Beginning with Forever (29 page)

“I’m almost there
, baby.” This is his fair warning for me to allow him to come outside or in my mouth. It excites me to know that I’m the reason he’s on the verge of climaxing. I urge him further. “God…what are you doing to me Lil?” Carson groans. He pulls away, and climaxes in his pumping hands. His head falls back again as he enjoys his blissful moment. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he pants with a long savoring breath.

“Are you ready for more surprises?” I taunt him.

“What do you have in mind?” He raises his head off the bed to give me a naughty look.

I
rise, straddle my legs over his fit waist and rub my swollen flesh against his hard-again cock. I’m really stepping my game up, not letting my inhibitions hold me back. I lean into his lips and kiss them fervently. “Let me show you,” I murmur softly into his ears.

He
swiftly flips me onto my back and pins me underneath him. “No, let me show you, baby,” he insists, and I dare not disagree.

____________________

We’re both gasping heavily as we lay sated on our backs, profusely sweating and staring into the ceiling mirror. “I can’t believe I waited twenty-two years to enjoy that. If only I would’ve known then what I know now,” I regret teasingly.

“I’m glad you waited because
you’re all mine and no one else’s.” I avoid the reflection of his jealous glare in the mirror.

The thought of interrupting
this amazing moment would be unforgivable, but Bianca has been slowly poisoning my mind since I met her. I’ve held my tongue the entire night to avoid being the lesser woman who’d ruin his special evening, but I can’t hold back my insecurities any longer. I have to know. “Why did you agree to marry Bianca?” I blurt it out snappily like bullets being fired rapidly from a machine gun. I know it’s against my better judgment and every prideful bone in my body, but I just can’t help it.

He seals his eyes in contempl
ation and then answers, “Convenience. Love was never the reason. Bianca is persistent and so is my mother. They convinced me that marriage would solve all
their
problems, not mine. Bianca would have me, and my mother would have grandkids,” he sighs.

“
I don’t think your mother likes or trusts me.” I sadly look away from him.

He
folds my face with his hand, capturing my attention. “Lily, she just needs to get to know you, and as soon as she does, she’ll adore you as much as I do,” he comforts me.

“I really hope you’re right.”

“I’m confident that I am. Speaking of getting to know me better, we’re flying to my place tomorrow morning. I’ll show and tell you whatever you want to know about me. We’ll also have dinner with my parents, and if I’m not pushing my limits too far, I’d love for you to visit the Harvard campus.” I’m both overwhelmed and excited that Carson is finally opening up to me. It’s apparent that he thoroughly plotted the details of this weekend, far in advance. I wonder if this is his way of letting me know that he wants to bump our relationship up another level.

“I
assume your permanent residence is in Boston?” I look at him for confirmation. “No promises, but I’ll see Dean Filmore if it’ll make you happy.” It wasn’t coincidental that he introduced me to him earlier this evening, such a devious man. “I’m still struggling with the fact that you own Bradley International Pharmaceutical Corporation. Your sky’s-the-limit wealth will be an issue for me. Take me seriously when I ask you not to spend lavishly on me.” I try my best to give him an uncompromising look.

“Yes ma’am!
I’ve heard you loud and clear, many times.” He turns his body to face me and pulls me into his embrace. “You can be so incorrigible, Angel.”

“Carson,
can I ask you another question? It’s kind of personal.”

“Sure, I have nothing to hide from you
, Angel.”

“How did you get that scar on your left hip?”
I run my finger along the length of it.

“My parents told me it’s from birth
, and I’ve never questioned it. Why do you ask?”

“It looks like a clean
, surgical excision to me.”

“Interesting,
I’ll have to pry my parents for more information now.”

“If this is the only
imperfect thing about you, I think I can handle it.” I give a playful smile and then chuckle.

“I’m glad to know that you love me beyond skin
deep.” He returns my smile with his. “Let’s get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us. Goodnight, Lily.”

O
ur trip to Boston is expedited by flying on Carson’s private jet. He refused to waste our brief time together, waiting for commercial flights or going through agonizing security checks. I agreed to appease him, not that I had a choice in the matter. My time with mellow Carson will be more enjoyable than with uptight Carson.

Striding away from the jet, my eyes zoom in on
an intimidating man, leaning against a black limo on the tarmac. Could this be Owen? It has to be. I’m anxious to meet him in person since I only know him by his husky, masculine voice. He’s younger and more strapping than I pictured him to be, maybe mid-forties. The first thing that comes to my mind when I see him is Dwayne Johnson, the WWF wrestler. It’s so uncanny how much he looks like him, from his handsome, dark features to his shaven head. Emma’s bratty, little brother used to run into her room and impersonate the Rock just to irritate the heck out of us, so I’m very familiar with Dwayne. Owen has two intriguing faint scars, one above his left eyebrow and the other on his neck along the carotid artery that strikes my curiosity. I bet there’s an exciting story or two behind them. Perhaps I can ask him about them one day when we’re better acquainted and on a first name basis. He seems like an interesting character.

“Miss
Ly, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome back, Mr. Bradley,” Owen greets and nods his head at us.

“Thank you
, Mr. Maxwell. I’m happy that I can now attach a face to your famous voice.” I cordially reply with a silly smile and extend my hand out for a shake. He gives me a firm squeeze and the Rock’s infamous crooked smile, well…not quite. It’s more like a tilt of his lips. It still makes me laugh to myself, imagining it.

“Mr.
Maxwell, has anyone ever mistaken you for the Rock, the wrestler?” I ask him frankly like any star-struck person would.

H
is expression barely changes with a subtle grin. “No. Miss Ly, you’re the only person to ever tell me this.” His expression is deadpan, making me feel dumb for asking.

“Lil, he likes to be called Owen
, so don’t bother with formalities,” Carson bluntly cuts us off. He doesn’t handle my interaction with other men well. This is an obstacle he’ll have to overcome because I won’t tolerate it. Why can’t he just trust me and understand that he’s the only man for me? Owen resumes his reserved expression. I feel uncomfortable and guilty almost instantly. It appears that he was non-verbally reprimanded for having a conversation with me, if you can even call it that. I’m noticing that Carson’s demeanor is more reserved and curt with everyone other than me. I can still remember how intimidated I felt the first time I witnessed this aloof side of him. He’s not a person to be trifled with especially when he’s in his executive mode. It’s amazing how some people can command that kind of response from just a look. I’m just ecstatic to be on the recipient end of his more tender side.

O
ur bags are stowed in the limo by the driver. Owen sits in the front. I climb in first and Carson follows behind me. As soon as the driver closes the door, he pulls me against him and depresses a silver button to raise the privacy, glass screen. His mood lightens up, but his expression remains rigid.

“I
don’t normally invite women to my home,” Carson declares in a stern tone.

“I’m honored
, then,” I buoyantly reply with a teasing expression.

He locks our curled fingers together
and emphasizes, “I’m being serious. It wasn’t just an accident that brought us together. Someone up there planned it.” The firmness of his tone tells me I better pay attention to what he’s conveying to me.

“Someone
? Do you not believe in God, Carson?” I curiously ask him. This is another topic we haven’t touched on either.

“I do, but He hasn’t been fair to me.” His index finger glides along my cheek and then down to my heart. “But…I think we’re okay now. What about you? Do you believe in God?” He looks up to my
doting, brown eyes.

“Yes, but in a confusing way. I call it Bud
dhistian. It’s a blended religion with principles I value from both God and Buddha.”

“
Buddhistian…I like it. This is why you’re so unique to me.” He smiles, caresses my face between his hands and presses his warm lips against mine, tasting me like his fine wine or liquor. My body falls back on the leather seat with his forcefulness. He’s warming up his appetite as he inhales and nips all along my neck and down between the dell of my swollen breasts. “Why can’t I seem to get enough of you?” he groans under his breath. As much as he wants to have his way with me, he curbs his appetite and pulls me into his arms. “I need a quick fix for now and save the rest for tonight.” The look in his eyes promises an endless, heated night. The anticipation is killing me as I lean against his beating chest, steadying my breathing.

____________________

Boston is a beautiful city rich with American history. Most of the buildings are solidly constructed of brick and designed with detail and character. I’ve never seen so many streets end up in circular paths to connect to another street. It’s like driving through a labyrinth to get to his place. On our flight here, Carson forewarned me that his penthouse has over 8,000 square feet of living space. He lives at the Zen, a more modern development in downtown Boston. Why one person would ever need this much room is beyond my comprehension, but then again, I’m just a humble girl from a Midwest suburb. What do I know about big city living?

The limo driver
pulls up to the front of a high-rise building. The unwelcoming cold breeze bites into me when I step out. My shoulders shiver first and then the tremor sashays all the way down to my toes. I immediately think of Amelia doing the body roll to David Guetta’s ‘Who’s That Chick’ and chuckle to myself. Carson notices my shivering and rushes us to the front doors. An older gentleman, with Albert engraved on his nametag, greets us at the entrance while holding the door open.

“Mr. Bradley,
welcome back, Miss,” he greets while politely tapping the rim of his top hat and nods.

“Hello
, Albert,” Carson briefly replies as I gesture ‘hi’ with my hand and smile on the fly. I take it that Carson isn’t much of a conversationalist. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and directs me through the lobby, towards a set of elevators. Not again, I have to take the elevator to the top floor. I should be a pro at this by now, but it doesn’t get any easier for me. I wonder why no one ever wants to live on the lower floors. It would be prime real estate for me.

This
place is even more extraordinary compared to the one in Chicago. It feels like I’m in the center of an enormous glass globe. Large windows surround us, enhancing the unbelievable views of the city. Holy freak, he has an enormous pool just outside the confines of these glass doors.

“How often do you swim in th
at pool?” I inquire while pointing at it.

“Not as often as I’
d like to.”
Just as I thought—a rarely used space.
“My schedule keeps me busy. I never made any time for myself until I met you.”

“Am I a good or bad influence?” I smirk.

“Good in every way, of course.” He cocks his head in my direction and offers me his dimpled smile. “Lil, would you like something to drink? Please make yourself at home.”

“I’m afraid I’
d get lost if I wander off by myself.”

He g
ives me a wry grin with his eyebrows knitted tightly. “Don’t worry baby, I’d find you.”

In contrast to
the Chicago condo, the surrounding furnishings are dark and more masculine. Even though it’s double the size, it feels much cozier and more like Carson. Everything is brand new and barely touched. I doubt that he’s ever home long enough to settle down and enjoy this massive place. I’m handed a cold water bottle. He intertwines our fingers together and gives me a grand tour of his fabulous place. It’s like experiencing a ‘
MTV Cribs’
episode in real life: wine room, workout center, gourmet kitchens, entertainment rooms and several unused bedrooms. I can’t believe this is all his. I would’ve been lost had I decided to venture off on my own.

We stop at his home office to make a
quick call to Dean Filmore. This room also has an exquisite panoramic view of downtown Boston. I can only imagine how amazing it is in the evening with all the brilliant, colored lights reflecting in the background. I curiously look around his professionally decorated office. His mahogany executive desk probably costs more than what an average person earns in a year. I see that he’s a book collector, medical ones in particular. Now this impresses me. As I look beyond the wall of books, my eyes settle on two, large, professionally matted framed photographs of lotus flowers. They’re perfectly enhanced and credit is even rendered to me at the bottom left corners
.
‘Photographer:  Lillian M. Ly’
It’s gratifying to see them proudly hanging in Carson’s personal space because they represent me.