Chapter 17 ~ Carter
T he grand hall at the Waldorf Astoria was packed. As every year, New Yorkers had scrambled for tickets to this charity event benefiting the city's homeless. I wasn't usually one for such events, but Don had given me the tickets two weeks ago. He couldn't make it today because he had to accompany his mother to an appointment. I had considered raffling off the tickets among my employees, but when the deal with Isabella began to take shape, I decided to go myself. The charity dinner was the perfect opportunity to rehearse for the wedding: an upscale, rather formal gathering where no members of my family or other acquaintances would be present. I had requested a guest list beforehand to ensure I wouldn't run into Donovan Hayden Ellesmere. Or Cameron.
Isabella hesitated to enter the grand hall. There was no need for that. Today she wore a red patterned dress that modestly ended just below the knee, with matching shoes. A silver necklace and silver earrings completed her look. Her wardrobe must be quite well-stocked, and she looked better than all the women here in the hall. A strange feeling spread through me.
Pride.
I was proud to have Isabella by my side.
"What do people talk about at an event like this?" she asked.
I shrugged. "No idea. These are mostly people who think they're particularly important. So it's always good to ask them about their jobs. It flatters their ego."
Isabella giggled a little. "As long as I'm not asked about my job..."
"Why?" I wanted to know. I still didn't know what Isabella actually did when she wasn't playing my fiancée.
Before Isabella could answer me, a waiter approached us with a tray full of long-stemmed champagne flutes. He looked me up and down.
"Sir, may I ask you to change your shoes?"
I looked down at myself. My feet were in a pair of sneakers. As always.
"What's wrong with my shoes? They're much cleaner than those of the gentleman over there?" I nodded discreetly towards a guest with a shiny red bald head who was making his way through the crowd. He was wearing black shoes. Or rather, shoes that were probably originally black. The leather didn't shine as usual but was covered with a fine layer of brown dust, with some larger black spots sticking out. In short: it looked like the man had come here straight from a construction site.
"That's true, your shoes are cleaner," the waiter admitted sheepishly. "But unfortunately... well, formal attire was requested."
"And?" I smoothed my suit. "The suit is tailor-made. And the shoes are also custom-made. Pretty upscale, right?"
The waiter nodded dutifully. Never contradict a guest. That was one of the first rules in the hotel and restaurant industry, which the man in front of me was trying to follow as best he could, without forgetting to implement the pointless rules of the event organizer.
"Listen here." I lowered my voice and leaned forward slightly so that none of the surrounding guests could overhear us. "The tickets for this event aren't exactly cheap. They actually cost quite a lot. You could buy several pairs of shoes with that. Good shoes. That's okay, after all, it's all for the benefit of the homeless. So you probably don't want to deny me entry?"
The waiter lowered his eyes, thought for a moment, and then replied: "Would you like a glass of champagne?"
Satisfied, I nodded, took two glasses from the tray, and handed one to Isabella, who was looking around curiously.
"I recognize a few faces from the newspaper," she remarked excitedly. "Is that possible?"
"It's quite possible," I said. Then I raised my champagne flute, looked deep into Isabella's brown eyes, which were sparkling with warmth today, and said: "To an unforgettable evening." Grinning, I added: "Fiancée."
"To our engagement." Isabella also raised her glass and clinked it against mine with a tinkling sound. She giggled. "Feels somehow... different."
What did she mean by that?
"At least I've never spent an evening like this and could call it 'work'." Isabella sipped her glass.
Basically, she was right, but... for some reason, her statement bothered me. We had a contract. This was work. And yet I didn't want Isabella to see it that way.
"That you dare to show up here!" At that moment, the guest with the shiny red bald head stood in front of us. "That you have the nerve!" He hissed as he spoke, spraying tiny droplets of spit around. "What are you doing here?"
"Excuse me?" I asked, irritated. The bald guy with the dirty shoes hadn't even said a full sentence and was already getting on my nerves immensely. How dare HE question my presence here? I had tickets, I was one of the most important and wealthy citizens of New York. I had every right to be in this hall. Mr. Dirty Shoes had no right to say anything to me. We didn't even know each other.
"I don't believe we've met before," I said coolly, but as politely as I could and was about to turn my back on the man. I wasn't going to let my mood be spoiled on an evening like this. Certainly not by a small-time wannabe gigolo with dirty shoes. Those should have shined like his bald head. THAT would have been something. The thought made me grin.
"I don't mean you. I mean HER!" The bald guy jabbed his finger in the air, pointing to my astonishment at Isabella. She stood frozen beside me, staring at him speechlessly.
"Do you have to show up everywhere I am and get in my way?" the guy now barked at Isabella.
"Then just turn around!" Isabella's cheeks had reddened and her voice sounded sharp. "Then I won't be in your way anymore! And you won't have to see me either. And I won't have to see you."
What was going on here? Who was this guy and how did he know Isabella? He was using the informal 'you' with her, while she used the formal form with him. What kind of strange relationship was this? Had he once been her teacher? The age difference between them would fit that scenario. But why would a teacher develop such an aversion to one of his students? While I was still puzzling over this, the confrontation between the guy and Isabella entered its next round.
"A few days ago you were begging me for a letter of recommendation that you supposedly needed so urgently. And now you're here, as a guest at an obscenely expensive event." The man snorted indignantly through his nose. Once again, a small droplet flew onto the floor in front of us. I shuddered with disgust.
Letter of recommendation. The guy must indeed have been either a former teacher or professor. Or a former boss.
"So what?" Isabella didn't hesitate to talk back to the bald man. If necessary, I would stand by her side, but she was holding her own bravely. A woman who stood up for herself. I liked that. The flushed cheeks also brought out Isabella's full lips beautifully. She snapped at the bald guy: "I can be wherever I want. It's none of your business."
"I see you've hooked yourself a man," the man needled. "That's what you women like to do, isn't it? Get someone to take care of you when you can't do anything yourself or are too lazy to work."
Now that was enough.
"Leave my fiancée alone!" My sharp voice drew the attention of the guests standing around us. Their conversations fell silent and they looked over at us. I didn't care at all now.
"Fiancée?" The bald guy chuckled mockingly. "Well, my condolences. You've really brought something nice into your house. You're in for it with her." What did the guy mean by that? I had no idea. But I wasn't going to ask. I didn't want to give the man that satisfaction.
"Yes, indeed, I have brought something nice into my house." With these words, I put my arm around Isabella and pulled her reassuringly against me. I turned my head briefly to her, smiled at her, and then looked back at the bald guy, whose name I still didn't know. Mr. Pig Eyes? Or Mr. Baldy? Several good options came to mind spontaneously. But I continued more moderately: "If you're jealous because YOU couldn't find a suitable companion for tonight and are therefore pretty much the only man in the room who's alone here, then you should work that out with yourself and not take your anger out on my fiancée!"
At that moment, Isabella giggled softly and looked at me admiringly. At the look in her eyes, my cock throbbed slightly. And another, unfamiliar feeling flowed through my body.
What was that?
After my words, something happened that I wouldn't have thought possible: The man turned even redder. The color of his bald head could easily compete with a boiled lobster.
"Yes, and who do I have to thank for that?" He hissed, pointing at Isabella once again.
"Keep your finger to yourself!" My voice sounded even sharper than before. I barely restrained myself from using the words "fat" and "sausage finger." Why wouldn't the guy give it a rest? The vein at my temple started to throb.
"I don't have to take this from a snob in sneakers. You can't even buy yourself a decent pair of shoes!"
"And you can't clean yours," I retorted. I looked around searchingly and waved to the waiter.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"We unfortunately have to leave you again. But the gentleman here would like to use your excellent shoe shine service. Please show him everything necessary. He'll surely have better chances with the ladies if he has clean shoes."
Isabella giggled again beside me. I removed my arm from her shoulders, gently took the glass from her hand and placed it along with my glass on the waiter's tray.
"Come on, darling, let's go enjoy ourselves somewhere else," I said loudly, grabbed Isabella's hand, and pulled her behind me towards the exit.
"Thank you for saving me from that creep. No one has ever done anything like that for me before." Isabella had held my hand but hadn't said much after we left the event and drove to my place. Now she stood next to me in the elevator to my penthouse and looked at me with big eyes. She suddenly seemed very vulnerable.
"Who was that guy?" I now wanted to know. "And why did you ruin his date for tonight?"
"My former boss," Isabella explained. "I accidentally walked in on a phone call he was having with a woman he had apparently messaged on some website." She giggled again at the memory.
"You naughty girl," I grinned. And then I did what I had wanted to do all evening. I stepped close to Isabella and kissed her. I pressed her body against the wall, braced my hands against it, and took all the time in the world to explore this mouth that I already knew and yet seemed so exciting to me, as if I had never touched it with my lips before. I gently probed Isabella's lips with my tongue. Licked over them. Teased Isabella, who now wrapped her arms around me and arched her body towards me. Her full breasts pressed promisingly against me. Soon I would be holding them in my hands. At this prospect, my cock grew even harder than it already was.
Isabella sensed my arousal and rubbed her hips against me, which nearly drove me over the edge.
Ding!
At that moment, we reached my penthouse.
Thank goodness.
I hastily pulled Isabella out of the elevator. She must have been as aroused as I was, because she immediately let her coat fall to the floor. I got rid of my jacket and pulled Isabella close to me again. I simply had to taste her hot mouth once more and this time feel her tongue as well. While we kissed passionately, I fumbled for the zipper of Isabella's dress. Meanwhile, Isabella was working on my belt with slightly trembling fingers.
Good.
Very good.
My cock clearly signaled to me that it couldn't wait any longer. It needed... Isabella.
"Get undressed!" My voice was hoarse with desire. This woman simply drove me crazy every time. We had spent a whole night together, had a passionate evening here in the penthouse, and I still couldn't get enough of this body. Not even close.
Our clothes quickly flew to the floor. Finally, Isabella stood naked before me. Full of lust, I pulled her close. She gently stroked my six-pack and then let her hand glide down again. But just the thought of the massage she had pleasured me with during our last encounter aroused me so much that I knew: I had to have Isabella now. I couldn't wait another moment.
I gently took her hand and licked her fingers one by one. After all, Isabella should also get her money's worth. I placed my hand on her back and bent my head down. Slowly, I let my tongue glide between Isabella's breasts. I turned to the right and finally found Isabella's nipple. I savored running my tongue over it and felt it stiffen under my touch. Very stiff. I gently bit down.
Isabella moaned and arched her body towards me. Tightly embraced, we moved backward towards the black leather sofa. Hastily, I turned Isabella around and rubbed my erection against her buttocks. Isabella matched my movements, showing me that she was ready for me. More than ready.
I bent Isabella's upper body forward and finally entered her.
Deep.
And deeper.
A loud moan escaped Isabella's throat.
I thrust again.
Pulled back.
And thrust again.
And again.
And again.
Over and over.
"Oh yes, Carter," Isabella moaned loudly. At that moment, she shuddered beneath me and I felt her vagina contract around my cock. Again. And again.
Yes baby.
Isabella was coming.
Powerfully.
Her moans echoed through my living room.
I thrust again. Again. And again.
Then I too found my release inside her.