The nighttime air is fresh and cool, so unlike what people experience living in between and below the city high-rises and skyscrapers on the other side of the river. The Bridges and the Japanese guests are standing at the bow when I join them. Becky gestures for me to come and watch the fireworks next to her and Roscoe. When I stand beside him, he takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. This is what I knew would happen when I agreed to pretend I was Roscoe Bridges' girlfriend, lines are going to get blurred as we are compelled to make the fantasy a reality in the flesh. It feels as if I no longer have a choice, because my body has taken over the steering wheel, kicking my calm, rational brain to the curb. I don’t feel an ounce of helplessness, though, but rather a delightful sense of heightened expectation.
Fireworks explode across the night sky the moment the last of the orange sunset leaves the western horizon. It’s really beautiful and I am thinking about asking my dad to find me a fabric with such vibrant colors on a black background, because the theme for my next collection can handle such a strong pattern.
“Shall we go back to the cabin?” Roscoe quietly suggests into my ear after drawing my hair away with one finger. “My dad can bid our guests farewell when the yacht berths at the marina…”
I turn my head to look at him, and the expression on his face takes my breath away. Now I know why Roscoe is such a killer in the boardroom; he has this way of making his desires manifest themselves on someone. He also has the charisma to make someone want to please him, serve him, never let him down. It’s thrilling and breathtaking all at once.
“What are we going to do?” I ask him, not wanting to go down without a fight, or at least, I’m hoping he will brush his finger over my ear to move my hair aside one more time, have his breath tease my skin as his hear his soft words. As his mouth brushes against my neck, I get my wish. “You know how much I want to fuck you. The thought of you lying naked on the bed with your legs wide open to receive me has the power to drive me crazy with desire, Tess. I’m about to lose my mind if you don’t let me feel how warm and wet you get when I bury myself deep inside you.” He takes my hand in the dark and rubs it against the front of his pants. I have to stifle a groan. He’s rock-hard and ready to come even from the light touch of my fingers. It’s electric and I feel my body light up in response. I get wet, my pussy pulses with the urge to reach its peak, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“I’m…not going to last long,” I warn him.
“We’ve got the whole night ahead of us, Tess.”
This is insane, but it also makes some kind of sense. We both need sex, and while the charade of our engagement is required to make the merger happen, we might as well enjoy the opportunity that has presented itself because, sure as hell, we can’t be seen to be with other people. We can’t get hurt, we’re doing this with our eyes wide open.
My brain is working overtime to justify what I’m about to do. If I’d been living on my own without access to a fit, perfectly muscled, devastatingly handsome man living one floor above me, I would have been content to stick to my two or three times a week sessions of pleasuring myself; a quick rub when the mood strikes or I need to tire myself out before a good sleep. One look at Roscoe in his skintight swimwear as he works out in the pool every morning, and I lose all ability to rein in my wild nature.
I’m exhilarated and adore the way he’s not ashamed to admit how badly he wants this. Placing my hand on his shoulder and standing on tiptoes, I whisper in his ear. “I want to ride your cock so hard, Roscoe Bridges.” And I rub my hand slowly over the front of his pants, the way he seems to like it. He bends to kiss me and I’m glad the noise from the fireworks masks my moan of desire.
After saying goodnight to his parents—who give us a knowing look that kind of makes me blush—and bowing multiple times to the Ishida guys, he takes me by the hand and leads me downstairs. My knees are trembling and my mouth has gone dry. Suddenly, I wish I’d had a drink to take away the nerves, or maybe even be able to use it as an excuse tomorrow morning…
The lights are off in the cabin, but we don’t need them anyway. The fireworks outside the windows are painting the walls and lighting the room in reds, whites, and blues. As I sit on the edge of the bed, a golden burst of light crashes and burns with a loud bang, reflecting off his skin as he lifts up his sweater. His chest is chiseled to perfection, his abs are like a washboard. I can’t resist reaching out my hand and touching him. He runs his fingers through my hair, just staring at me, like he can’t get enough of how I look. I know what he’s waiting for and it makes me feel more excited than a kid at Christmas. I loosen the button on his belt and unzip his pants.
He’s changed underwear, but it’s no use. The ones he has on now also have a damp patch from where his cock is straining against the soft cashmere material. I hook my finger under the band and pull them down. And when his hardened length springs out from underneath his boxers, all I can think is,oh my god. This thing is a masterpiece. Having touching it outside, I knew he was big, but I never expected it to be so beautiful. He looks down for my reaction. I can’t stop staring. The urge to touch, feel, taste is overwhelming. So much so I don’t know which I want more. Enjoy the work of art in front of me with my eyes, my hands or my mouth. And I feel myself become wetter by the second. And then I can’t resist anymore. Leaning forward, I give I to my desires. And the hardness, combined with the softness of his skin, his flavor, all come together as an uncontrollable hunger comes over me when I place him in my mouth after giving the tip a few teasing licks with my tongue. A ravenousness that can only be satisfied by sucking him as far down as I can take him. The more I move my mouth up and down, holding his shaft with one hand while cupping him with the other, the more excited I get. It’s as if pleasing him has the power to make me come without even being touched. I risk looking up at him. He has his eyes closed and his head tilted back. He groans, “God, Tess, you’re driving me wild. I’m going to lose it soon.”
I use my hands, tightening my fingers a bit around his girth. “So, lose it. I want you to.”
My words ignite a fire in him. He pulls away. “You’re a witch, you know that, Tess. You’re so sensational, you could make a man forget his manners. Come, take off your dress before I rip it off.”
I push him down on the bed and make him watch as I slowly remove my clothes. I’m only wearing panties underneath my corset dress. The intensity in his eyes lights me up inside and makes me feel the most desired I’ve ever felt. As I reveal my body to him, little by little, he watches my every movement. He is an alpha predator. I am the willing prey. He grabs me by the waist, pulling me down beside him. We’re both naked now, face to face, eye to eye. He kisses me and I die with the beauty of what’s happening to me.
I’m on my back, sighing each time he teases my nipples with his tongue and mouth. I’m not sure what I’m saying: please, yes, more, oh God, don’t stop. The feel of him kissing me, licking me, tonguing me is too much, until I can’t help but scream and hold his head in place while I come hard. Outside, in the night sky, the fireworks explode, but they are not as sensational as the orgasm Roscoe gives me. I don’t care if it’s messy and visceral, his mouth has pushed me into paradise.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” he whispers before he kisses me. I taste myself on his mouth. “I want to fuck you, Tess,” he growls. “No more playing around.” I can’t even form words right now, so I nod.
Getting himself into position, I watch as he feeds himself into me, taking it slow, no sudden moves or he’ll explode. We rock together with a gradually increasing rhythm, and I bite my lower lip as he penetrates me all the way to the end. He’s so deep inside me, and I feel my body eat his cock with an urgent greed. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t say there is a little bit of pressure. He’s a big man after all, and it has been a while. But he’s masterful and incredibly controlled. The way he moves himself in and out of me. There’s no pounding away like a jackhammer, Roscoe is too much of an expert for such rookie moves. He takes his time so that we both make the most out of this moment. I can feel the pressure building again, and I can’t hold back.
“I’m coming…again, oh…” The moment he feels me start to come off, he thrusts deep and grinds hard inside me. We come together. I think I scream, loud, but the fireworks are still exploding in the sky. If tonight is a taste of things to come, my future with Roscoe is looking very much like unicorns and rainbows.
“Roscoe, that was amazing. I needed that so badly.” I have no more words, but somehow, I don’t want to sleep either. There is a very small part of me that wants this to happen again and soon but I know I have to protect myself as well. As our breathing goes back to normal and the sweat cools on our bodies, he does something very sweet. Sitting up, he pulls the cotton sheet over us, then puts his arms around me and pulls me closer. I can admit, even if just to myself, that running my fingers over his chest is the perfect way to spend the night. Being here like this makes me feel as if there is a chance we could be more. And that is a dangerous thought.
Post-coital talk with Roscoe is fascinating. He doesn’t clam up and go to sleep. No. Sex seems to have galvanized him the same way it has me.
Putting his arm under my neck so I can lie my head on top, we discuss a bunch of completely random topics. He asks me about my childhood, my friends and dreams from back then, and I ask him about his and also about his dreams for the future. And he mentions he wants to follow in his father’s footsteps. That the company is focused on sustainability and green energies because Bryson Bridges wants to create a company his grandchildren would be proud to be associated with.
“Grandchildren?” I’m a teeny bit scared by this word until I remind myself that all of this: me, Roscoe, the wedding, the engagement, is all a fantasy. “How come your brothers haven’t stepped into the breach? Are none of you broody?” My head moves up and down as I feel him shrug. “I don’t get involved in whatever narrative Mitch and Harry want to tell my parents. And my mother and father know better than to force the issue with me, because they have always put my happiness above their yearning for grandchildren. I know Mom would never forgive herself if she encouraged one of her sons to have a child just for the sake of it. They are staunch traditionalists, at the end of the day. They would rather there be no grandchildren than for one of their sons to have a child out of wedlock, or even worse, with someone they don’t love with all their heart.”
“Isn’t that an old fashioned ideal to have in this day and age?” As interesting as I am finding this conversation to be, it would be stupid of me not to use it to learn more about the Bridges family values. I’ll be part of it for the next few months, after all.
“My parents are old-fashioned and proud of it,” Roscoe’s chest moves as he laughs. “My father’s business practices have taught him the value of strong bonds and family units. That’s what a legacy is all about. I have to emphasize how loathsome my family finds the news cycle and believe a special place in hell should be reserved for entertainment news. New York is not L.A. and they want to keep it that way. Pension fund managers and savings and loans banks tend to steer clear of investment firms that have office heads with messy private lives.”
I feel the yacht’s anchor mechanism begin to haul the weight up. We’re heading back to the marina. Why do I suddenly feel the overwhelming desire not to let Becky and Bryson Bridges down?
CHAPTER15
ROSCOE
There’s no going back now. We crossed that line together—we are lovers.