“You’re responsible for this…” I move my phone down, giving her a view of my hard, naked dick. I hear her moan. I redirect the screen to my face. “And, if you’re not on that plane, I’m hunting you down and fucking you on sight.”
“Promise?” Heaven flirts while looking at me through thick lashes. I love how we haven’t missed a beat. We’re picking up exactly where we left off.
“Yes. I’m afraid I have to punish you for getting me all worked up,” I inform her while fisting my cock.
“Punish me?” she repeats, more aroused than curious.
“Yes. Now, I have to pleasure myself like a teenager, you’re stuck having to finger yourself, knowing that I plan to eat you for a very long time when we meet up again. Not only that, you’re going to do it in the dark with only your imagination. You will receive no visual or vocal stimulation from me tonight.”
“Axel…” Heaven starts to protest.
“No, Baby, do your assignment. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up before I can fold. Punishing her is punishing me, but I want her to be so worked up that she pounces on me when she sees me.
I turn off the television and push my phone aside. I relieve myself with the once again soothing sounds of the ocean in the background. My orgasm is quick and satisfying. Not as good as it is when I’m with her, but enough for me to sleep better than I have since she left me at the airport.
Axel
I whiz into the office early, whistling to myself. My spirits are high, and I’m hyper-focused on finishing up business. I’d woken up to messages from Heaven. The first message promised to ‘get me back.’ The second message was her phone number, and the third message was her home and email address. I’m excited that I have access to her again. I pull out my phone prepared to send her a text when Allie comes out of nowhere.
I jump, and the phone flew out of my hand. “What the hell!” I yell, my heart racing. “You scared the shit out of me, Allie. Why did you jump in front of me?”
She is breathless. “I called your name several times. I think you zoned out again.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize absently as I retrieve my phone. “What’s up?”
“We have an issue. Let’s meet in your office. I have it set up there.”
I rush to my office and swivel my head. Nothing is out of the ordinary.
“Have a seat, Axel. It’s on your laptop.”
I sit and tap the spacebar. I see a paused video of Janet on TMZ. The headline reads:Surf Mogul Tosses Longtime Girlfriend Out Like Trash.
I sigh heavily and press ‘play.’ It’s a video of me leaning against the door jamb of my office with my hands in my pockets. I look like I don’t have a care in the world as Janet thrashes against Paulo and the security guard who is taking her from the building as she calls me ‘cruel’ and ‘heartless’.
Granted, I would judge me as well if I didn’t know Janet was full of shit. She is a drama hound, and I’m still glad she’s out of my life. Even with knowing how damaging this news story will be for my company, I can’t help but feel relief knowing Janet will soon be my past.
“I’m guessing we have to contact P.R.—”
“Already done,” Allie cuts in, sliding a green tea across my desk before disappearing.
I take a sip of the energizing brew as my brain pings through all the issues I need to address. Knowing Janet, that video will fuel her into weeks, maybe months, of lies.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I smile to myself, hoping I’ll find a naughty picture from Heaven or an equally sexy text. Instead, Mr. Pafuti’s name flashes across the screen.
Shit.
He’s an early riser, but his early mornings are for quiet and reflection. His goal is to never discuss business first thing. Instead, he likes to start his day with a clear mind and spirit.
My gut tells me he’s not calling me for reflection or spirit cleansing. “Hello, Mr. Pafuti,” I greet, pumping extra cheerfulness in my voice. If I’m not worried, it may relax him.
“Mr. Behr, I’m not liking the headlines,” he announces, jumping to the point. “It makes me uneasy acquiring a business from a playboy. It affects the bottom line.”
“I know, Mr. Pafuti. I’m not a playboy. It’s all a misunderstanding—”
“I do not want to buy a business that forces me to make excuses for its former CEO. Wassergott’s news needs to be about the gear and only the gear,” he chides. “My baby girl…”
The last thing I need is him projecting his daughter’s trust-fund-douche heartbreak onto me. “I know, Mr. Pafuti. I put my all into building this business, and I will sell it to you with all its integrity. That video was posted out of context,” I explain.
