Taking Control (22 page)

We finish the rest of the picnic, and Tiny insists on packing everything away carefully when she sees that I intended to pick up the four corners of the blanket and dump the contents into the basket. “You might break the glasses,” she protests as I gather up one side and then another.

“I doubt they cost more than a dollar to make,” I note wryly.

“Still, we might want to use them again.”

Standing back, I take the opportunity to watch her ass sway as she bends over to pick up one dish and then another. The shorts are riding high, and I can see not only her lower cheeks but the lace edges of her panties. When she reaches into the basket, the delicate crease where her inner leg joins her body winks in and then out of view. I can’t resist any longer and kneel down behind her, sliding one large hand over the curve of her succulent ass and dipping in between her legs. The denim is so short and frayed, it’s easy to slip two fingers underneath the fabric to rub against her honeyed warmth.

Her body stills under mine, and then I feel the slight press of her pussy against my hand. Without any word of acknowledgment, she continues to pack the items away. The glass plates and silverware are followed by empty jars of jam and wrappers of cheese. I hold my hand rigidly in place, and the movement of her body as she packs and rearranges creates enough friction that she’s soon lightly panting.

“Quite the workout,” I observe mildly, all the while enjoying how my fingers are getting damper by the minute.

“Yes,” she says, a tiny bit breathless. “All this cleanup is really taxing.”

Her ass moves more forcefully, and in response to her silent demand, I slide one and then another finger inside her. She pushes back as far as the constraints of the denim and lace allow. Leaning forward, I brush the hair away from her neck and place a small bite against her shoulder. She shudders. “Can you come like this?” I pump slowly, only able to reach up to the second knuckle.

“Maybe,” she moans and jerks against me.

“How about now?” I dip my other hand down the front of her shorts to press my fingers against her clit. The position draws the denim tight against my hand, as if we are bound together. “I can’t wait to lick your honey off my fingers after you come.”

She whimpers and while I can barely move either hand, she is able to work her hips and ass in minute movements, the tautness of the fabric and the steely restraint of my hands providing just enough sensation to bring her off.

The climax is small but powerful as she tenses beneath me and then throws her head back, releasing a small keening sound. Her nectar floods my palm, and I cup it to gather as much as I can. The suck of her channel against my fingers makes me groan in anticipation. Once we’re in the house, I’m going to slake every ounce of passion she’s roused in me on her tender body.

I ease out of her shorts, and she collapses on the blanket, her sides heaving lightly as she tries to catch her breath. “I hope you’re in good shape,” I gently tease, “because I’m going to be fucking you on every acre of land and in every room this weekend.”

“You’re going to have to have a lot more in your picnic basket than cheese and wine then,” she says, eyes closed.

I lick her juice off the palm of my hand. “I have plenty in my basket for you.”

She chortles softly. “I can’t tell if that’s an innuendo or not, because right now everything sounds extremely dirty.”

I manage to keep my hands off her long enough for us to make it back to the house. Dropping the basket off at the car, I tug her hand to lead her into the garage. Entering the code to raise the door, I watch her face as the bikes come into view.

“Oh my Lord,” she breathes. “Is that a Vanmoof and a Cervelo?”

“The day I saw you in SoHo there were two bikes in the window. I couldn’t figure out which one you wanted, so I bought both.”

She ducks under the garage door before it’s fully raised to see the bicycles up close. I can’t tell the difference between them. The Cervelo is lighter and, per the salesperson, corners better because it has a stiffer suspension. The Vanmoof is more elegant and more technologically advanced, with its integrated battery providing extra power via a tiny motor attached to the front wheel.

Whatever delight Tiny had shown for the car has nothing on the pure joy she is exhibiting now. Clearly her love of bikes overcomes her dislike of me spending money on her. She claps her hands to her cheeks and then runs over to jump into my arms. “Oh shit, Ian. I can’t even pretend to be mad about this. I love those freaking bikes. Thank you!” A hundred kisses are pressed all over my face. “Can we go for a ride?”

“Sure.”

We strap on helmets, and Tiny and I explore historic Southport on our new bicycles. Tiny had to raise the seat for me, and even that small task made her smile broadly. Being self-sufficient is important to her. I need to remember that and respect it.

Our weekend is idyllic. After biking, we return home to find a meal waiting for us. The house came with a caretaker’s lodge, along with an actual caretaker. I’ve continued to pay the salaries of Bruce and his daughter Venita for them to air out the house and carry out a few tasks like coordinating delivery of the bikes and bed and making sure the kitchen was stocked with food. They’d done well so far.

Tiny and I try out the new bed, christening it with her being tied to the four posters while I spend a long time testing the limits of her ability to orgasm. After three, she cries for me to bury my cock inside her, and after the fourth she starts cursing me.

I smile the whole drive home. It was a damned good time.

SEVENTEEN

“T
HE
REPORTS
YOU
REQUESTED
FROM
Jake are on your desk. Are they related to the SunCorp acquisition?” Louis is like an excited puppy as he hovers close to the sealed envelope that contains an encrypted USB drive hand-delivered by one of Jake’s employees. Each of Jake’s clients receives his reports in this fashion. No over-the-air transmissions that could be intercepted. No printed photos or reports that could be pilfered from an envelope.

Every client is assigned a passcode and an additional authentication code that gets texted the day of the delivery. These small extra steps were putting Jake’s security business in high demand. His attention to detail was becoming renowned. It kept prying eyes—like Louis’s—from seeing sensitive information.

“I don’t know,” I say. It’s likely related to Howe and the Hedders, but it could be related to business.

“If you’d given me the key, I could have looked it over this weekend while you were upstate.” Was that a slight hint of reprimand in his voice? I’ll be glad when the paperwork is finally through HR so that I can fire Louis.

“I hope you didn’t work all weekend. Not getting enough rest can make you overlook important details,” I answer mildly. Gesturing for Louis to sit down across from my desk, I slice open the envelope and two USBs drop out. Curious. I plug the first one into my laptop. Then I check my phone and type in the passcode. The name on the top of the report is only slightly surprising, as are the details. Idly I wonder if I had shared some of my vendetta with Louis, if things would have gone differently and if he wouldn’t have felt the need to align himself in direct opposition. It’s all rhetorical now.

The information in the report is damning.

It merely shores up my position should any legal proceedings be initiated. I don’t need to wait for HR with this information. The summary is succinct and to the point. Jake has never been one for gilding the lily.

As I watch his fingers tap the arm of the chair, it strikes me that I simply have never trusted Louis with that kind of personal information, despite the two of us having worked together as an efficient moneymaking team for the last five years. My instincts haven’t failed me yet.

“
Someone
needs to keep the lights on,” Louis replies snippily.

“Someone needs to remember who signs the checks around here.” Despite the evenness of my tone, not even Louis could mistake the steel in my eyes—if he had the balls to look at me.

He tugs on the cuff of his shirt, apparently obsessed with getting the correct cuff-to-sleeve ratio. “You aren’t the only multinational holding company in town.”

It’s a weak threat, but a threat nonetheless. I require only one thing from the people in my inner circle: loyalty. “One pussy is as good as the next?” I ask.

He exhales in relief. “Right. I mean unless she’s shitting out golden eggs, then there’s no point in jeopardizing a deal over her. I was worried there that she’d swallowed you up or something. Nice to see you’re coming to your senses.” He laughs a bit self-consciously and tugs at his cuff one more time before glancing up. His smile dies off at the hard look on my face.

Clasping my hands together on my desk, I lean toward Louis. In clear tones, so there is no mistaking my meaning or purpose, I tell him what I think. “You have fifteen minutes to get your personal effects together, turn in your company-issued equipment, and leave the building. There will be no severance pay.”

I watch for a few seconds as he opens and closes his mouth like a beached whale and then switch USB drives. After a minute of no movement, I comment, “You’ve got fourteen minutes now.”

The second USB is devoted to Malcolm and Mitch Hedder. As the summary of the elder Hedders’s past ten years rolls by, I hear the office door close quietly.

Malcolm Hedder was busy running his small time operation of high-end hookers and prescription drugs. Jake notes that Malcolm had acquired a new escort who was about the same height as Tiny and had similar features. Jake also points out that this was creepy. I agree. But it wasn’t just Malcolm’s possibly escalating obsession with Tiny that caused me a twinge of concern. Mitch Hedder’s last Palm Beach sugar momma had been found dead under suspicious circumstances, and several pieces of her extensive jewelry collection were missing. Now he was here sniffing around Tiny.

No, she wouldn’t like a bodyguard, but she damn well is going to have one. Jake recommends four different individuals—three men and one woman. No question who I’d pick, but the decision will be Tiny’s.

Picking up the phone, I alert Rose to the new development. “Louis is taking a new job. Please call building management and let them know.”

“Certainly, Mr. Kerr.” Rose’s voice is filled with smug pleasure. She informed me how much she didn’t like Louis when I gave her the news of his impending departure last week. Thirteen minutes later, I’m in the office lobby, still digesting the Hedder report. That bodyguard for Tiny needs to be hired immediately.

The receptionist is my assistant Rose’s daughter, Fawn, in keeping with the outdoorsy theme, I guess. She’s nineteen-going-on-thirty and enjoys testing her baby wiles on the older men in the company.

“I love your tie today,” she coos as I wait for Louis to appear. He’s always been punctual before, but now that I’m kicking him out, he’s dawdling. Probably attempting to download as many analyst reports as possible. Information is power, and Louis will attempt to leverage my superior research team for a better position somewhere else.

“Thanks, my fiancée picked it out.” Not really a white lie. She did suggest that the pale blue silk would look good against the black-checked suit coat.

“I didn’t know you proposed.”

“This weekend.” I love the word fiancée. There’s a sense of ownership and belonging in that word.

“Congratulations!” She smiles, and it’s genuine. At thirty-two, I might be interesting but I’m old. “She has good taste then,” she says and then turns back to reviewing emails—office ones, I hope. A muffled clatter of wheels down the carpeted hallway signals Louis’s approach. He’s dragging a wheeled cart behind him. The indignity of it is probably crushing.

“Everything go smoothly?” I ask.

A muscle in his jaw is working overtime as he struggles with how much he’d like to tell me to go to hell, possibly while sucking on a donkey’s dick on my way down. But he manages to hold back whatever profanity-laced diatribe he’d like to trot out and instead hisses, “You’re going to regret this decision.”

Fawn’s eyes widen in anticipation of a potential scene.

“I doubt it. My priorities have changed.” I walk toward the glass doors of the entrance and out of Fawn’s hearing. “You’ll enjoy yourself somewhere else.”

“All this over some illiterate snatch? Fuck, man, you can do better than that.”

My hand curls around the edge of the glass door. I’m tempted, for a strong and long moment, to take Louis’s head in one hand and the glass door in the other and bash the two together until one or both of them break into little pieces. But physical violence is transitory. Louis will hurt more when I remove his status and money-making ability.

“There’s a very important piece you are missing here, Louis.” I pin him with a stare and this time he can’t look away. I won’t allow it. “To be a good investor, to make good decisions, you have to be both unemotional and observant. You’ve shown neither trait here.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I continue. “Every attempt I’ve made to inform you that Victoria would be an integral part of my life has been met with either dismissal or disdain, which means you failed to notice both recent warnings and past signs. I stick up for people in my circle. You were once there.”

He gives me a weak nod as we both probably recall his first management meeting, which took place at Colicchio & Sons. The target’s outgoing CEO mocked Louis’s lack of an Ivy League education. I reminded the CEO that at least Louis had a college degree and a business school education—unlike myself. He’d shut up after that, and Louis had worn a grateful look on his face for an embarrassingly long time.

But in the months that I’ve spent with Tiny, I have sensed Louis’s impatience with me. He worried I’d take too long to make decisions, his attention had begun to wander, and—like a jilted mistress—he’d sought affirmation elsewhere. Jake’s investigative report telling me that Louis had racked up large debts at high end department stores, as well as overextended himself with other high-end toys, only confirmed what I’d begun to suspect. Louis wouldn’t be happy working at Kerr Inc. much longer. I’d merely hastened his exit.