Page 6 of CurVy Baby

I look at my gold Rolex as I wait on the balcony. The city is a living, breathing thing that rushes around the hotel, making itself known with dashing lights, horns and hollers, vehicle fumes, and the occasional wisp of tobacco.

This was the same yesterday.

But I was not.

I smooth my tie down my shirt.

The city, Vallie, Donnie, and Tyler lived, and built, and progressed, and moved, while I was in a stalled state.

I sip my espresso on ice. Pretend I don’t wish it was whiskey or wine.

An ambulance siren pierces the atmosphere. I lean over. The lights cut through the flood of cars that are bumper to bumper.

My phone chimes.

Donnie: She is on her way up. She wanted this. I did not. Let me make that clear.

Crystal.

I stand and walk inside.

It’s too much activity.

I finish the coffee and set the empty glass on the marble coffee table before I turn back to close the balcony sliding doors, draw the curtains, and lock the public world outside.

A ping from the elevator has my head snapping to the side, on edge. A side effect of the past five months. Guards entering whenever they please.

I stride toward the elevator as it opens, revealing a stunning curvaceous blonde in a tight black ankle-length dress that cuts low and tight across her cleavage, nearly spilling two plump globes over the seam.

Christ.

“Wow, penthouse, fancy…” she says, peering past me and across the top-floor two-bedroom penthouse suite I had refurbished with lush cream carpets, gold trimmings and marble accents only a month ago. She looks back at me and blushes as I gawk. “You said to look nice, right?”

I told her to wear a nice dress, but I forgot those curves cannot be tamed, cannot be unadulterated. “You have indecent curves, Baby Girl. It is any surprise that Tyler let you leave the house like that.”

She chews on her lip, shame in her darting brown gaze. “Well, we actually didn’t tell Tyler. He gets in these zones now that he is playing the piano again. He can just play and play for several hours. I have to go in and physically snap him out of it. It is like he’s in a different realm. Lost.”

“He sees the music.” I open the door, and she walks into the hotel room. I stare at her arse, lifting and dropping as she moves. “Did you know?”

She smiles, spinning to face me, awe touching her lips. “Really? That’s special. He is so special.”

“Yes. It is called chromesthesia.”

I open my arm to direct her gaze to the dining room table lit with two candles, already set with two plates sealed with steel lids, steam dancing from the small hole in the centre.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, and I realise how unnatural we both feel when she fidgets with her dress. Not at all like before. Stagnant, almost. I need a fucking drink. That is what I need. I haven’t even touched her yet; maybe I need to grab her and remind her who I am.

You won’t let go…

I remain calm.

“Actually, I did.” I walk to the table, pull out her chair, and after she sits, I move to the chair opposite her. “I need to make sure you’re fed.” I feel my cock thickening, all my intent playing out across my face when I narrow my eyes at her. “I need you hydrated.”

She swallows, and I follow the roll of her throat, imagining how deep my cock will be in less than an hour from now. I look at her eyes again. Really look. “Last time we were all together, I wasn’t quite myself. I had only been dry for a few weeks. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, or them. I’d hoped, of course. But I knew I only had a few days with you, so I didn’t want to waste them on dynamics.” I clear my throat. “I wanted more for you and us from the start. I was wild with the need to get inside you. Things are different now. I’m not like my brothers. I need you to know that this is me, Baby Girl. The man who will spoil you. Dinners. Dresses. Diamonds. Events. Travel. You’re Mrs Vaughn. And that is my role in this. But…” I run my thumb across my lower lip while I eye-fuck her spilling tits. She squirms in her seat, and I wonder if when she stands up, she will leave a trail of moisture from her wet pussy. “You’re a brat,” I go on. “Your mouth is a real problem.”

She sneers, and my cock twitches. “Excuse me, ‘my mouth is a problem?’”

“Please”—I gesture across the table to her plate— “eat. It’ll help with your mood.”

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