Chapter 17
seventeen
PETER
I’ve always thought window-shopping was pointless. Why spend hours browsing with no intention of buying anything? That was until the first time I went with Geneva. Somehow, she turned it into a blood sport. It’s now a great way to spend a day listening to her eviscerate store after store.
“All I’m saying is, they would sell more by changing the color palette in the store. Nothing about chartreuse says ‘please buy my cardigan.’ Unless it’s ripped, spray painted, and makes you want to rage against authority,” she says, walking out of the latest shop. “They had some good stuff in there too. But, eww.” She does a little shimmy to show her opinion of the assault to her senses.
“So I take it I should tell the painters to pick another color for the new office?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Bront? and I have already agreed on a color palette.”
“Do I dare ask what color my office will be?”
“You dare not,” she says. “I want it to be a surprise. You should see the new logo I’m designing. It says young, edgy, but still traditionally elegant.” She uses her hands to make her words look like they’re on a marquee. “What are you smiling at?”
“You,” I answer, taking her hand. “I knew we were making the right decision.”
“Right decision about what?”
“About making you the head of operations.”
“What?” Geneva gapes at me. Rand, Bront?, and I discussed last month our roles in the company. It was unanimously agreed that Geneva is the most obvious choice to keep the train on the tracks. No one else can fill the role like she can. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” I ask with a snort of derision. “Because, G, you’re brilliant. You’re organized, goal-driven, and have a way of making people give you what you want. That’s on top of how fucking genus you are at the advertising. You already have branding ideas, for Christ’s sake. None of the rest of us have even thought about it.”
“I just assumed I’d keep doing what I did before at Randolph Development.” We’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Good thing it’s not the height of shopping season. I’m not sure why she’s so surprised by what I’ve said. To us, she is the obvious choice.
“No, you’re going to be in charge of keeping this whole shitting-shebang going. Rand will still buy properties, Bront? and I are going to do the design work, and you’ll have to run the business. Oh, you still have to do all the stuff you did before as well.”
“Okay. Well.” She stares down the street in thought. “I guess I should start putting in some overtime then. There’s a lot that needs to be done.” We head back toward the hotel. “I think I’ll start with kicking Rand into a smaller office.” The wicked smirk is back on her face. The look I love so much. “I mean, should I even be sleeping with someone that’s beneath me?”
“Beneath you? Definitely. Sleeping? Not so much.”
“Speaking of, what do you think about ordering in tonight? That way I can just lick it off of your abs.”
“Damn. I can’t say no now.”
“I know. You’re way too infatuated with me to ever say no.”
“That I am.”
* * *
I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed. We ordered dinner in, but nothing has been licked off my abs yet. Geneva sits across from me at the small table in our suite, waving her fork around. She’s finished her salad and has moved on to a piece of carrot cake.
“I’m telling you,” she says between bites, “there’s no way that something that contains carrots and nuts can have this many calories.”
“Keep dreaming, Randolph.” I’m one to talk. I chose a fat piece of chocolate pie for dessert.
“I don’t care what you say; this stuff is to die for. Besides, why eat salad if it’s not so you can have cake after? I mean, no one voluntarily lives on roughage.” She pops another bite in her mouth. She clamps her lips around the fork and pulls it slowly out of her mouth. I’m at half-mast just watching the show. “What time do we need to leave tomorrow?”
I calculate the time in my head. It’s a solid ten-and-a-half-hour drive to Austin from here. The snow started again a little while ago, so I doubt we’ll make great time getting there. If we can get somewhere that is about halfway, I’ll be happy. There are only two ways to get there. Either way, we should be good.
“How about we aim for seven? The sun should be up by the time we’re done with breakfast.”
“Perfect,” she says, pushing away from the table. “That gives me just enough time to do very nasty things to you and still get plenty of sleep.”
“Very nasty, huh?” I just went to full mast.
“You heard me, Winsloe. Now get on the bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I don’t have to be told twice. Pushing away from the table, I head to the bedroom. I sit on the end of the bed to wait for further instructions.
I used to tease Rand that his sister would make an amazing dominatrix. He was never amused by that observation. It still made for an amazing fantasy. Hopefully, that fantasy is about to become reality. What can I say? I like a woman who takes what she wants.
“Let’s see what you have in this thing,” she says, carrying my duffel into the bedroom. “Take off the shirt,” she adds. I pull it over my head and toss it on the floor. She digs through the bag. “Rope!” Her eyes gleam with glee. “Lay down with your arms over your head.”
I lay back and raise my arms over my head. No one has ever tied me to a bed before. Trust was never a thing with a one-night stand. The last thing I wanted was for housekeeping to find me the next morning naked in a bed.
Truth is, I bought the rope with Geneva in mind. She pulls out a length of yellow. With surprising proficiency, she has my arms secured to the headboard in minutes. I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Rand taught me all his sailing knots. I practice when I get bored.” She shrugs. “Now, what to do with Peter Winsloe.” Her nails stroke down my chest to my abs. I can’t stop the shiver that races up my spine. “He’s been such a bad boy teasing me all these years.” I might be in over my head.
Her hands land on my waist. Slowly, she unhooks my belt and pulls it from my belt loops. When it’s free, she loops it so the ends are in one hand. I watch in fascination as her other hand traces the leather to the looped end. Then she cracks it. The noise echoes around the room.
“Geneva,” I warn.
“Did I say you could talk?” The belt slaps gently against my chest, but I jump anyway. She drags it down until it snakes between my legs. Her fingers pop the button of my jeans open. I hear every tooth of my zipper unlock one by one. “Shall we see whose name is on your cock tonight?” My jeans are slid from my legs.
“Yours. Always yours,” I groan.
“Do I take your word for it, or do I find out for myself?” She eases my boxer briefs from my body. “Geneva. Very nice. You need a reward for being such a good boy.” Her lips close around the head of my cock, and my breath catches in my chest. “Mmm,” she hums. The vibration goes straight to my balls.
My belt is looped over my cock. I close my eyes, waiting for whatever sweet agony she has in store for me. I’m wrong. Her mouth draws on my cock as she pulls the belt slowly. When the end hits the floor, she slides until I’m pressing the back of her throat.
The tingling in my spine begins. I focus on tamping down the need to come back down. It’s no use with her pouty mouth working me.
“I’m going to come,” I warn. Her lips pop when they pull off me.
“No, you’re not,” she says, stabbing me with her emerald gaze. “Not until I tell you to.” She stands to pull something from the bag. As hard as I strain, I can’t lift my head far enough to see what it is. The bed dips, and she’s straddling me. “How bad do you want me?” she asks.
“Fuck, Geneva,” I moan. “I can’t think of anything I want more than that sweet little pussy. It consumes me.” I’m rewarded with a smile as she slides the belt around my throat. I don’t even care anymore if she kills me with it. I just need to feel her fucking me more than I need air.
“Beg, my dirty boy,” she purrs.
“Please, Geneva.” The belt tightens as she rises to her knees. Inch by inch, she sinks until she impales herself on me. She takes a couple of trial bounces. Then I realize what she’s had in her hand this whole time. It’s the small bullet vibrator I bought her. It presses against my rim as she leans back on top of me.
“Geneva,” I beg again. My body sizzles as she seats the vibrator where she wants it. “I’m not going to last.”
“You’ll last until I say differently,” she snaps. The belt tightens a little more. I can breathe, but I’m starting to feel a little light-headed. Her hips grind up and back as she rides me.
I can hear myself whimpering, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. There’s nothing I’d want to do anyway. I’ve never been brought to the edge like this.
Her breathing becomes shallow as she chases her orgasm. I’m teetering on the brink of oblivion when she shouts at me. “Now, Peter.” I come harder than I ever have. Somehow, I’m still on the bed but also floating above it. Geneva looks like an angel and temptress rolled into one as her head snaps back in ecstasy.
“Peter,” I hear her calling. My eyes open to find her still sitting on top of me. The belt is gone, as is the buzzing in my ass. “Did I kill you?” She leans over me to untie my arms.
“Possibly.” My heart is still slamming in my chest. She rubs on my numb arms to help wake them up.
“I think you’re going to have a mark on your neck,” she says, scrunching her face up. “Sorry.”
“I fucking hope so. Otherwise, I might think I dreamed all of this.”
“You did come really hard,” she says with a laugh.
“I don’t know how you didn’t get knocked against the far wall.”
“Hence the belt.” She winks. I use one rubbery-feeling arm to pull her in for a kiss. I’m not sure there’s much else on my body that is working.
Her naked breasts crush against my chest, and I start to feel stirrings again in my groin. She breaks the kiss to look at my lower body. “So, I’d guess we give it ten before you’re ready to go again?”
“Mmm, maybe five? Seven tops.”
“You know, this thing is growing on me.” I hope she’s talking about my cock. Instead, she eases the ring off of me. “Maybe I’ll have your cock tattooed with my name.”
“No, I draw the line at cock tattoos.”
“Hmmm, your hip then?”
“That we can talk about,” I agree. “Maybe in a nice script.”
“In several languages,” she adds. “That way no one will be able to claim they didn’t know who you belonged to if they get your pants down.”
“Now you’re getting carried away. Everyone who gets in my pants can speak English.” I pull her against my chest again. If I have to wait another five minutes before I’m on her again, she can damn well wait with me. “How much time do we still have before bed?”
“I’d say somewhere around two hours,” she says.
“We’d better hurry then.” With one quick move, I roll her under me. “I still have lots of toys waiting.”