“You had better not have your eyes closed,” he said.
“Your hands are on my butt and your dick is going in and out of my kit kat.”
“Tell me how it feels,” he said.
“Good.” Her hands splayed on his chest and she leaned forward. But she must not have realized that action would not only make him go in deeper but also bring his cock in direct contact with her clit, because she cried out in surprise. “Oh, my God! So good…”
The tips of her breasts grazed his chest as he moved her up and down on his cock. He was glad when her breaths quickened above him, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
She came with a broken cry only a few seconds before he exploded inside the condom. “Fuck, Josie, fuck…” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down, holding on to her with fierce tightness until he was empty.
“I can’t believe…” Josie said. Then, “…I can’t even form a sentence.”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door, causing Josie to let out a squeak of surprise.
“Mr. Prescott, it’s me, Mac.”
Josie began to squirm above him. “Oh, no!” she whispered.
Why were older black people always trying to interrupt whenever he was in the sack with Josie?
“Go away, Mac,” he snarled.
“I can hear you’re… busy, Mr. Prescott, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t need my services today. I could run out and get us some breakfast, since from what I heard, Miss Josie is, er…also busy.”
“Oh, my God, oh, my God. I can’t believe this is happening.” On top of him Josie tried to wiggle free but Beau kept her right where she was, on top of his cock, even though he was now fully spent.
“Go away, Mac,” he said again, even surlier this time. “And don’t come back.”
“Don’t come back?” Mac said. “Are you firing me, sir?”
“You can’t fire him!” Josie whispered. “This job is how he puts food on the table for him and his wife. It’s not his fault he caught you banging the help.”
Irritation prickled inside of him. Apparently, Josie was still in the habit of defending other people against him. And she obviously thought he was in the habit of firing people. Beau harrumphed. Fire someone once before you make her your mistress, and you’re labeled a mean boss for life.
“No, Mac, I’m not firing you,” he called back. “I’m giving you most of the week off with pay. Now get and don’t come back until the big appointment on Friday.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” he answered. “Now get out of here.”
“All right, see you Friday morning.” Apparently Mac knew better than to look free vacation days in the mouth, because the next thing they heard was the sound of his receding footsteps.
“Happy now?” Beau asked Josie.
“Well, you didn’t have to be so rude about it. I mean, cussing? That man’s old enough to be your father.”
He grinned. “Who do you think taught me how to cuss? If you’ve got a problem with how I handle business, you need to take that up with Dad’s ghost.”
She went still above him. “I was sorry to hear about your daddy’s passing.”
Beau finally released her from his hold, the mood effectively killed. “Don’t be. He was a bastard. You knew that, everybody did. And at least we were finally able to take the company public, and fill dad’s vacant CEO position with someone who, unlike me, actually gives two shits about the company.”
“Maybe so, but I should have made it back for his funeral. I mean, you came back to Birmingham for my mother’s funeral. I should have done the same.”
Her voice sounded far away now, like she was talking to him but giving her full attention to something else.
“Why don’t you run down and whip us up some breakfast?” he said, trying to get her back. “Something good like pancakes.”
That did it. He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Mac wouldn’t approve.”
“Well, Mac isn’t here, is he?”
She chuckled and said, “Whatever you say, Mr. Prescott.”
CHAPTER 12
“WHATEVER YOU SAY, MR. PRESCOTT” was a phrase Josie became very familiar with over the course of the week, during which they fell into a comfortable but intense routine of amazing sex, followed by meals that definitely weren’t on Beau’s diet plan.
She whipped up as many of his old favorites as she could, given the challenge of having to use whatever ingredients were in the house. But eventually she told Beau that she had to go to the grocery store.
“Does that involve you leaving the house?” he asked when she introduced the subject over a breakfast of grits smothered in butter, cream, and cheese on Wednesday morning.
“You know it does,” she answered, fingering the lace trim on the black satin nightie she was wearing. She’d overnighted it to herself a couple of days ago, thinking he’d like the feel of it, even if he couldn’t see it. She’d been right. It was eleven in the morning, but they were just now eating breakfast because he’d kept her up well into the night “breaking in the nightie,” as he called it.
Now he shook his head, in denial of her grocery store request. “What if I need you while you’re out?”
A shadow crossed her heart. By “need,” she knew he didn’t mean need her help. He still refused to accept that from her. In fact, she’d yet to see him walk any meaningful distance by himself, because he found a reason to send her out of the room whenever he wanted to go to the bathroom or take a shower.
However, when she came back from whatever errand he’d sent her on, she’d see the evidence of his struggle in the messes he left behind: overturned furniture, drawers of clothing in complete disarray, a shower littered with cleaning products he’d accidently knocked over.
And despite her attempts to stay cynical and detached from his situation, his helplessness worked at her heart. She wished he would let her help him, and hated that she had to stop herself from offering after he’d snapped, “No, Josie, I don’t want your help. That’s not what I’m paying you for, so stop fucking offering. ”
Reminding her of their arrangement was his way of shutting down the conversation any time she tried to broach the topic of his blindness. Otherwise, he treated her more kindly than she ever would have expected. He complimented her food, kept her laughing with his NFL stories, and kept her coming more times than she would ever have imagined could be physically possible.