Wild Violet (The Vi Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 1) (3 page)

NE corner 60
th
and Madison 11 p.m.

Vi returns her phone to her purse and continues to zigzag her way through the Park toward Fifth Avenue. The clock reads 10 p.m. An hour is much too long to wait for any man. Why would he presume that she would want to be with him after he’s been with someone else? She’s not the jealous type, but even she has her standards.

Vi unties her hair and runs her hand through it as she picks up her pace. It’s unnerving how much she wants him, but acknowledging it to herself is at least liberating. He’s gotten under her skin. Doesn’t mean anything has to come of it. It’s growth, she figures. Maybe she’s not the ice queen one man accused her of being when she refused to give him her number. But that was different. He was a terrible lay.

A firm hand on her shoulder makes Vi turn around. “What the hell?” She nearly screams. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He laughs. “You look so serious. I couldn’t help myself.”

“What are you doing here?” She asks, catching her breath. “What happened to your date?”

“Told her I had an emergency. Put her in a cab and said I’d call her tomorrow.”

“You don’t think she feels cheated?”

He shakes his head. “Of course not. I’ll send her flowers tomorrow. Violet, sex isn’t always a given with dates. Sometimes all women want is company and to feel desired.”

“What’s your emergency?” Vi asks, already knowing the answer.

“You,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I saw you heading down Fifth and realized you weren’t going to meet me, so I decided to improvise.”

Vi continues to head East to avoid the crowds coming out of the Park. “An hour seemed too long to wait.”

“I realized that as soon as I sent the text. And I didn’t want to wait either.” He pulls her into a dark doorway and crushes his lips against hers.

The kiss is all consuming. His soft, full lips part hers, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth. Vi moans into his mouth, taking pleasure in the feel of his lips and the touch of his hand moving over her sex. There isn’t a part of her body that doesn’t feel overwhelmed in the moment. His hands, arms, legs, feet, every part of him moving in perfect tempo, like a
pas de deux
. She set the rhythm, and he’s executing the dance. He lowers his head to her breasts, and bites down on her rock hard nipples from the outside of her thin cream blouse. “I need to be inside you now,” he groans, pressing his lips to hers again.

Vi takes his hand and leads him halfway down the block until they find a basement entrance. “Down here,” she whispers.

As soon as they descend the steps, he’s on her again, wrapping her left leg around his waist. Vi arches back, molding her body to his as he lifts up her shirt and pulls down her bra to expose her breasts. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, drawing one into his mouth and sucking while massaging the other. She grinds her hips against his, impatient for his promise to be inside her. He laughs quietly against her bare skin. Her body shudders at the feeling of his warm breath against her skin, wet from his kisses.

“You’re such an impatient shrew,” he growls into her ear, while dipping his finger into her wet snatch. “But always so ready.”

He enters her slowly, only part way, then pulls out. “You feel unbelievable, Violet.”

He continues in this vein, pushing the head of his cock inside her before pulling out again.

“You’re such a tease,” Vi says, biting down on his bottom lip, swollen from kissing her.

“That’s right. I want you to want this. Can you feel how badly I want you? How crazy you make me?” He says through clenched teeth.

Vi twines her fingers in his thick hair, angling her hips to draw him deeper. Finally, he pushes himself so far into her she bites down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

He pulls her head back and invades her mouth with his tongue, sucking and tugging on hers. He holds onto her ass firmly while his fingers rub her clit. This time, Vi can’t leave her body. He has her grounded in this moment, all feeling, all over. She can’t think for a second about being anywhere but in this place.

He picks up his pace, thrusting himself in and out of her, her sex becoming slicker with every push.

Their breathing becomes more staggered as he plunges himself deeper and deeper. Suddenly, she can’t hold on anymore. The feeling in her core, the delicious slow climb becomes faster and starts to take over. It’s as if she’s on the precipice of something so profoundly deep and painful, she can’t stop herself from taking that final step.

She opens her eyes and sees him staring at her.

“Andrés,” he tells her. “Say it.”

“What?” Vi replies, breathless.

“My name. I want to hear you say it when you come,” he says in a low voice.

Andrés leans his forehead onto hers, sweat dripping down his face. Vi closes her eyes, loving the intensity of the orgasm that’s just about to take her.

“Violet,” he groans. “I’m going to come. Come with me, baby. I want to feel you.”

A few more thrusts and Vi feels herself falling into her sweet release. Just as she’s about to utter his name, Andrés covers her mouth with his tender lips.

“Shouldn’t you be going home?” Vi asks Andrés one evening. She gets out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. The evenings are a restless time for her. Probably explains why she likes to go dancing. It quells her restlessness, at least temporarily.

He stretches out across her bed, the ivory Sferra sheets falling to the side. She pauses to take in the view. Unlike many of the men Vi’s had, his beauty and style are uniquely his own.

“I thought we’d stay in. Your bed is quite comfortable.”

“I don’t like overnight guests,” Vi calls out from the bathroom. “Besides, don’t you have a date or something?”

“Summers can be slow. A lot of my clients are out at their beach houses or traveling. I prefer to stay local.”

By the time she re-enters the bedroom, Andrés is dressed.

“That was fast,” Vi observes, putting on a fitted black lace Rag & Bone dress.

“I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

She walks up to him, turns around and holds up her hair. He zips up the dress without saying a word.

“You are very much wanted. I just don’t like sleepovers. One night may eventually become two and so on. You know how this goes.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but if we’re both having fun, I don’t see the harm.”

Vi leans in for a deep kiss. She won’t say it, but she’s addicted to his lips. The feel, the touch, the shape of them. Everything about him, as a matter of fact, makes her want to be with him. Hell, if she had to, maybe she’d pay for his company. But it’s that kind of wanting that makes him dangerous for her. She knows if she lets him in any more than she has, it will only turn out badly for the both of them.

By the time they pull themselves apart, his shirt is off and her dress is unzipped. His erection is straining against his pants as he carries her to the kitchen. “Where are you taking me?” She asks between kisses.

He sets her down on the wide, granite-top island in the middle of the kitchen and spreads open her legs. “You said you don’t like sleepovers, so I think we’ll have to keep ourselves busy. There are at least fifteen other rooms in this apartment, right?”

Vi nods, her eyes hooded with desire as he lowers himself in front of her waiting pussy. With one finger, he moves her soaking panties to the side and runs his tongue over her throbbing clit. She arches her back and opens her legs even more. He makes it easy to forget her rules, too easy.

“You going to dance class today? Monsieur Renard was asking if I’d any idea what happened to you.”

Vi shrugs. “I’ve been taking classes in the afternoon.”

“Why?” Andrés bends down and kisses Vi’s breast. “Are you avoiding me?” She feels his erection stirring. The man is insatiable. Finally, someone who matches her drive.

She rolls over and puts her finger to his lips. “That’s one reason. Also, I wanted to get back to dancing alone. I need my space.” Vi gets up off the floor and loosens her braid. Andrés convinced her to amend her sleepover policy if they slept anywhere but the bed, so last night he fucked her thoroughly on the antique Persian rug in the formal living room. She’s promised herself that it’s just for a couple of weeks. Soon the summer will be over, and school will be back in session. Vi takes her education too seriously to compromise her standards, even for him.

“Where are you going then?” He asks.

Vi shrugs. “I’m meeting my academic advisor at ten.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles. “Does your advisor hold the key to your life purpose?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, maybe.”

“What’s your major anyway?”

“Math.” Vi starts toward her bedroom.

“Oooh, damn.” Andrés catches up with her and scoops her into his arms. “A math geek. You’re even sexier to me now.”

“Tell me,” she says, kissing him, “What did you major in? Sex?”

He sets her down and watches as she goes into the shower. As much as she can have him all the time, Vi appreciates that he gives her space without needing to be told.

“Art History.”

“Where did you receive your illustrious degree?”

“Columbia,” he replies matter-of-factly.

Vi wipes the steam off the shower door so she can see him clearly. “You graduated from Columbia, and yet you date women for a living?”

Andrés laughs. “Come to think of it, yeah. Imagine what my peers would think, those douchebags.”

“I think you need to explain this one.”

“Very simple. When I was in school, I interned a few summers at Christie’s. After graduating, I got a job through a contact I made there at a cool, up-and-coming gallery in the Meatpacking. I’d always wanted to own my own gallery one day.”

“Really? So you joined the ranks of the art snobs in the City?”

“For a time. Eventually my plan would take me back to Madrid. The art scene in Spain is way more interesting than in New York.”

“That’s a respectable goal. You’re ahead of me.”

“Well, the pay was shit. I could barely cover my rent, and I was living in a shitty studio with two other guys in Hell’s Kitchen. It was tough, especially when other kids I went to college with were pulling high five and six figure salaries.”

“I’m sure they were miserable slaves to the financial world.”

“Still, when you’re eating canned tuna and waiting for the next gallery opening so you can drink and eat real food, it can be depressing.”

“Is that what made you do what you do?” Vi turns off the water and opens the door. Andrés wraps her in a thick towel sheet.

“Sort of. I was determined to stick it out, but the art world took a huge hit in the wake of the recession. Sales at the gallery were decent, but they couldn’t afford to keep me. Long story short, there were more curators than curator jobs in the city.”

“You couldn’t find work after that?”

“None that paid. Plenty of internships, which were really glorified positions for spoiled trust fund kids who didn’t have to worry about paying their rent. No offense.”

Vi smiles and hangs her towel on the rack. “None taken.”

“Then, the gallery owner hooked me up with a client who had met me one day and expressed a sort of interest.” The emphasis he put on that last word makes Vi frown.

“You mean she pimped you out?”

Andrés shakes his head. “Not really. She didn’t take a cut. She felt bad about having to fire me and figured this woman and I had a mutual need. I was almost twenty-four and beyond broke. Someone tells you that you can take a woman out and maybe have sex with her and she’ll pay you for it. What other answer would I give?”

“That’s fair. So one thing led to another . . . .” Vi’s voice trails off as she heads to her closet.

“Something like that. Turns out this woman has a lot of friends, so business has been steady for three years now.”

Vi sits on the ottoman in the middle of her closet to slip on a pair of sandals. “How much longer do you think you’ll continue to do this?”

Andrés leans against the doorframe of the closet. “A couple more years, maybe. Starting up a gallery requires a lot of cash, building out a good space is key as well as making connections and fostering talented artists. It’s such a volatile market that I’ll need enough money to ride out downturns.”

“How much is that?”

“Four million, give or take.”

Vi gasps. “You plan to make that much from what you do?”

He laughs. “I’ve been on the receiving end of some very generous gifts. I’m about halfway there now.”

Now it’s Vi’s turn to laugh. “You’ve made that much!”

“What? Am I not worth it?”

She stands and walks over to him and kisses him gently. “More than worth it.”

Andrés puts his arms around her and squeezes her ass. His gaze is pure hunger and lust. “You know why I wouldn’t ever charge you for my company, don’t you?”

Vi’s expression turns serious. “Besides the fact that I wouldn’t pay for it.” She gulps.
Is that a lie?

“Because we’re friends. Money ruins friendships and relationships. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Vi doesn’t respond. This is about the most serious declaration of care that she’s received in years. The last time was a guy in high school who swore he’d kill himself if she broke up with him. She was confused by it all since she didn’t even realize they were dating. They had hooked up after a dance and turns out he had been a virgin.

Vi quickly pushes away the memory and steps back. “Right, so I’ll see you later,” she says, walking out of the closet.