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This. His body arcing into mine, his grip pulling me tight to him, the burying of his cock when he finished, gasping my name, the shudder of his breath against my mouth as he rolled me over and gave one final thrust.
This. This was what I wanted, what my new self desired. The romance, it could wait.
Chapter 4 - Brant
"You did what?" Jillian's shrill voice echoed in the large office, bouncing off antique desks and framed honors.
"I'm an adult, Jillian. I have every right to entertain whomever I wish."
“Layana Fairmont isn’t a trailer park hussy, Brant. She's a respected member of society. Extremely intelligent, though you wouldn't know it from the life of leisure she lives."
"I would consider those marks in her favor. You're speaking as if you'd rather me date an uneducated redneck. I left her house last night and went home electrified. I worked all through the night and solved our issues with data recovery. The woman lit a fire in me."
His aunt stood, her pearls clicking, the fury in her eyes finding their mark and burning the skin they touched. "She's looking for a husband. A new last name, a finish line to the race of life that all of these debutantes live."
"I find it interesting for you to know so much about her intentions."
"You know me, Brant. I have nothing but your best interests in mind. Trust me when I say to let whatever happened last night be the end of it. You don't need a relationship and need to stay away from this woman. Next time you want to get your rocks off, let me call the service."
With a foot on the desk leg, he leaned back. "You realize how ridiculous it is for you to order me whores. Most maternal figures would be happy to see me taking out a respectable woman."
"Your mother would want this. Trust me."
He frowned. “I don't understand you half of the time."
She smiled at him with a hint of sadness. "Trust me, Brant. I could say the same about you."
Chapter 5
I woke up alone, Brant leaving the bed at some point during the night. I wondered briefly how he got home.
It was odd, that he had snuck out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe that was the modus operandi with prostitutes.
I didn't like it. The sex had certainly been stay-until-the-next-morning-worthy to me. More than that, it had been incredible. Sitting up, I reached for my phone and checked my notifications.
No missed calls. 11:12 AM.
I rolled out of bed.
* * *
I ran along the surf, my tennis shoes squishing with salt water, the give of sand beneath my soles encouraging as I felt the muscles respond, jumping into action as I pounded down the beach. I increased my speed as my house came into view, the finish line in sight. I was wheezing when I came to a stop, my finger trembling as I stopped the timer on my watch. The burn of my chest matched the scream of my calves and the endorphin high made it all worthwhile. I forced myself to walk forward and my heartbeat calmed at the leisurely pace.
Two miles. Shorter than yesterday but at a faster pace. I glanced at my watch, at the frozen stopwatch there. 15:04. I cleared it, the time returning to the display, and started the uphill climb toward my pool deck, where a bench and shower station waited. There was a strange woman standing inside my gate and I paused at the sight of her—her rigid posture bringing back the memory of every prep school headmistress I’d ever had. I eyed her warily and continued forward.
"Is there something I can help you with?" I opened the gate to the pool deck. How had she gotten back here? I glanced toward the house, wondering if I had left the side gate unlocked.
Living on the beach occasionally brought trespassers onto my property, but this was something else, and I tried to place her as I sat on my bench and worked off my sandy sneakers. She looked familiar. Maybe the neighborhood association? Or one of my charity boards?
"Layana Fairmont, I assume."
I nodded. "That's me."
Whoever she was, we were currently a lesson in contrast. My skin was wet from ocean spray and sweat, and barely covered by a turquoise sports bra and spandex shorts. This woman wore a burgundy pants suit, a white turtleneck peeking out from her jacket. I had drops of sweat versus her pearl necklace. My wild brunette ringlets were barely contained by a headband and elastic, while her coiffed updo was barely shuddering in the strong wind.
I stood, my breathing now under control. "And you are?"
“I’m Jillian Sharp." She started to hold out a hand, her lips pursed, eyes sweeping over me, but then thought better of it, choosing to primly nod instead, as if she was the Queen of England and I should curtsy.
