She turns around in my arms. Her look says, aren’t you so full of yourself? It also says, I do love your own face. She kisses me and pulls away to continue her self-guided tour around the living room.
I love the sense of ease between us. I never brought women home into my private spaces. Never introduced them to my driver or made confessions about the music.
But no woman is Mia.
She runs her hand over the nubby blue couch and the antique lamp.
“This isn’t at all what was in the magazine. It’s so much more…” She turns around and looks at the painting above the fireplace. I bought it at a flea market in Amsterdam. It’s a crow in a tree, done in bold, heavy black strokes on a bright blue background. It’s not at all realistic, but there’s something I just love about it. I want her to love it, too.
“It’s so you,” she says.
“A crow?”
“It’s so straightforward, just the lines of it. Energetic and watchful. People think crows are carnivorous and mercenary, but in truth, they’re fun and smart and playful.”
“Are you saying people think I’m carnivorous and mercenary?”
She looks at me strangely. “Maybe.”
I don’t love that she’d say that. We’ve been trying to modulate that image lately. Not enough to defang the brand, but corporate responsibility is a thing with me these days. It’s a lot of what Catwalk for a Cause is about.
She moves on into the dining room. “It looked so different in the Architectural Digest article. This is much more human.”
“I’m still on the carnivorous and mercenary thing.” She looks thoughtful, as though she has something more to say.
I think she’s about to tell me, but then she spots the hot tub on the porch. “Look, Max, there’s steam coming out of there.” She points to the corner of the cover where steam leaks up. “Is that thing functional in the wintertime?”
“Maybe.”
“That is so decadent.”
“Decadence is the spice of life, baby.”
She gives the Max Hilton line an eye roll and I go to her, slide a knuckle along her jaw, down her neck, down the smooth silky bodice of her dress. I’m imagining her naked in there. “It’s amazing in the winter. You want to go in?”
“Would we need suits?”
“I have a no-suit policy for you.”
She gives me a sassy smile. “Oh really?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s a strict no-suit policy that I enforce in only the harshest way.” I slowly unzip her dress, kissing my way down, unwrapping her like an erotic confection. “I’m afraid I’ll have to enforce it.”
Her breath speeds. I love that I can affect her this way. I plant kiss after kiss along her spine. My cock is rock hard as I push her dress down in front of the panorama of the park. Her whole body shudders as I pull down her panties, get her to step out of her clothes. “Bra off,” I grate.
She takes it off and flings it in true Mia style. It lands on the couch.
I stand, running my hands over her hips. “So beautiful.”
She gives me a wicked look over her shoulder, and I’m so overcome with affection, I forget how to breathe. Just her standing there naked is all my fantasies from that lost summer coming true, but so much better. She goes to slip off her shoes, but I stop her. “No, no, no, no. Keep the shoes on,” I growl.
“I can’t wear shoes in there.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, slide my hand down over her pussy. One stroke and her whole body quivers. In her ear I whisper, “Bad news. We’re not gonna make it that far.”
She gasps as I stroke again.
I hold her more tightly. “You’re so wet for me,” I say. “I love how you get wet for me so fast. Almost as fast as I get hard for you. Almost.” I finger her some more, waiting for the feeling of her melting in my arms.
“See that table over there? I’m going to bend you over that table, and you’re going to let me do what I need to do.”
She turns all the way around now, with a hazy look in her eyes. “Yeah?”
I lower my voice. “You want me to describe how I’m going to fuck you?”
“Yeah, Hilton.” She pushes my jacket off my shoulders. “I want the details.”
I kiss her the way she seems to like—soft and slow, though there’s nothing soft and slow about how I want to take her.
“I’m going to hold your hair in my fist and press you right onto that table. It’s cool marble, but you’ll warm it up with your sweaty little body, because I’m going to be working you so hard.”
I slide my hands over her chest, her hips, learning her curves, the silky warmth of her skin.
“I’m not just gonna fuck you. I know from last night you like a little something extra over your clit, and it’s the perfect position for that. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll forget how to meow.”
“That’s a tall order,” she whispers huskily.
I hoist her up; her legs lock around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like she was always meant to be flush against me. I carry her over to the table and put her down, threading my fingers through her soft curls before I fist her hair at the nape of her neck. Her eyes go unfocused as I tighten my grip.
“Undo me,” I whisper.
I kiss her while she fumbles at my pants. I want her hands on me again. I loved the reverent way she touched my cock last night. The way she kissed it.
She takes me in her hand and squeezes.
“So good,” I whisper. “That’s how hard I am for you. I’ll get even harder once I’m inside that pussy of yours. I’m gonna make you come so hard, your knees might give out. But I’ll hold you. I need you upright for how I’m gonna do you.”
I spin her around. There’s nothing gentle about the way I press her down on the table. She makes little begging sounds as I push aside her folds, press one finger in, then another. “This pussy,” I grate. She angles up her hips as I press myself in. As I lose myself in her.
She cries out. I slide my hands all over her back. “I gotcha, baby.”
I cover her, fucking her. I reach around and do her, lost in the sounds of her pleasure. Lost in her. Never have I lost myself in a woman so completely.
* * *