Exit Strategy (17 page)

“This means your pristine Mayflower lineage could get some color in it.”

“Is that right?”

“Compliments of Nathan, mind you.”

“Like your mother used to say, ‘I don’t care if they’re plaid as long as I get some grandchildren out of the deal.’ ”

Tristan laughs. “She did used to say that, didn’t she?”

His dad sobers up. “What you’ve done for Aimee all these years is admirable, son. But you shouldn’t let that stop you from genuinely living.”

Tristan bristles and says, “Dad . . .”

“Okay, I won’t push, but if you see your...
arrangement
  with Keisha lasting longer than the others, you need to come clean with her.”

“You and Nathan are just full of advice these days.”

“It’s only because we care.”

“I know, but that doesn’t change my reality. Aimee has no one else. The least I can do is continue to provide her with the best creature comforts and human care possible.”

“That’s a given, but you don’t have to put your life on hold to do that. Your mother taught me that, and Lydia, in her overdone way, gives me comfort.”

“This is a first. Us talking about the elephant that’s always been in the room.”

“I know I’m responsible in large part for this legacy I passed on to you and your brother. The need for control for men like us is nonnegotiable, I get that. I just... I often wonder if your mother wasn’t taken from us so cruelly, would it have made a difference for you.”

“We’ll never find that out now. Will we?”

“Oh, there’s hope.”

“Yeah?”

His father nods toward the limo. “She’s waiting for you in your car.”

“I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Thanks for... everything tonight.”

“You’re welcome,” Charles says, then gets a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I appreciate Lydia doing this, but your mother’s birthday doesn’t deserve to be marred by a second wife’s insincere toasts or a jealous, inebriated stepson’s denigrating comments. Next time, let’s go away somewhere. Just you, Nate, and me, okay?”

Tristan gets the urge to do something he hasn’t done in a long time. He pulls his father in for a hug. “Sure thing, Dad.”

CHAPTER NINE

Keisha

Seeing Tristan share a tender moment with his father tugs at my heartstrings. What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation, but I’m still kind of pissed with him for making plans for KSR without notifying me or Jada about them.

I ambush him as soon as he slides in next to me.

“I get that you were exercising the contract provision, but Jada and I didn’t deserve to be blindsided like that. Don’t do it again.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sir.”

“That’s more like it,” he says. “It is after six on Friday, Ms. Beale.”

“It’s been three weeks. I’m out of practice.” I say this with the perfect combination of sheepishness and submissive flair. Despite having been quite upset with him a short time ago, I’m having a hard time staying mad with him.

“Yeah, right.” He resumes his Domly demeanor but gives me the closest thing I’ll get to an apology from him. “I’ll admit approaching Bryce without your and Ms. Jameson’s knowledge was poor judgment on my part.”

“And kind of shitty of him to bring it up at your father’s dinner party.”

“Bryce is about as uncouth as they come.”

“You know, your family made me feel like we were rocking an episode of
Dynasty
or a Beale family reunion in the
favelas
of Rio,” I say as we depart from the White property through the most enormous set of wrought-iron gates I’ve ever seen.

I can hear the frown in his voice. “Did you visit there a lot growing up?”

“Yes, when my fraternal grandparents were still alive.”

“Do you still have family there?”

“Just distant cousins and such, now. All my father’s siblings migrated to the states when my grandfather died.”

“And is this ‘dynasty’ some piece of Brazilian history I don’t know about?”

“No. It’s an eighties nighttime soap opera. My mother had all these episodes on VHS that I would sneak and watch when I was little.”

“I only watched one nighttime television show growing up.”

“What? Some cop show?”

“No,
The Cosby Show
,” he says with a playful, self-satisfied smirk.

I gasp. “Will wonders never cease. My Dom used to kick it with the Huxtables.” 

“And if you tell anyone else, I’ll have to kill you.”

I laugh. “I think you got that joke wrong, Tristan Xavier White. You should’ve told me you’d have to kill me
before
you spilled the beans.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh God. My father should never have told you I shared his middle name. So get all the X-Men jokes out of your system right now.”

“I think I’ve exhausted them all with Jada.”

“You laugh at me a lot behind my back, don’t you, Ms. Beale?”

“Only because you take yourself so seriously.” I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Are you tired?”

“No more than usual after a long week at the studio. Why?”

He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a square box.

My Triple-G faints, and Fairy Hoochie Mama gets out the smelling salts.
It’s too damn big to be what you think it is,
she says, but they don’t disappear yet, because they’re the two nosiest little fairies who’ve ever donned wings.

“What’s that?” I ask.

Tristan grins. “Something I was supposed to give you the other day when we had lunch at KSR North, but you distracted me with your exquisite little body.”

I suppress the eye roll. “So, what are you giving me now that you haven’t already?”

He hands me the box. “Open it.”

I tear into it, thinking it’s another piece of jewelry. Close. “A sports watch?”

“Not just your average sports watch. It’s a Huáng 3000.”

“A what?”

He takes it from my hand. “This is going to be the quintessential watch for sports people all over the world.”

“Pfft, well that rules me out.”

“But for you and me, it will serve another purpose.”

“What’s that?”

“It will warn us when you’re in danger of having a panic attack.”

“Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“No, you’re serious about anything concerning your
lifestyle
.” I think about the embarrassment this watch will spare me, and I throw my arms around his neck. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that tells me he’s exceptionally pleased. “I got the idea after we watched the movie together the other night.”

“Yes! Bruce Banner had a watch like this that alerted him when he was about to change into the Hulk by beeping when his heart rate went up. I’m going to call this my Hulk watch.”

“You can do that in private, but please don’t say it around the client.”

“When would I ever be around your Chinese clients?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to take you to Hong Kong with me in two weeks.”

I get excited for a minute, but then I realize taking a trip at that time is going to be impossible. “Tristan, I can’t go.”

“Why?”

“My mother is getting married the second weekend in March, remember? She’s going to need me to help her plan. Then, of course, I have to be in the wedding.”

“That’s a legitimate scheduling conflict if there ever was one,” he says. “How about this? What’s her wedding date?”

“March ninth.”

“We could leave after the wedding. She and the good pastor will be going on their honeymoon, so that should work out for all concerned.”

“They’re not going on a honeymoon until the pastor sells his house, but I can still leave after the wedding.”

“What kind of nonsense is that? They need to have a proper honeymoon.”

“Good luck trying to convince the pastor. He’s very frugal when it comes to spending money on himself, but he’s generous to the congregation and people in need. I think Mama is kind of miffed they won’t have a honeymoon right away, but she’s not saying it outright. I offered to pay for it, but that whole prideful man thing got involved, and Mama got mad at me for what she calls ‘messing in grown folks’ business,’ so I gave up.”

“Your mother has some of the most charming euphemisms.”

“It may be charming to you, but she was putting me in my place.”

He maneuvers us so he can nuzzle my neck and says against my skin, “I have a few places I’d like to put you in tonight.”

Tristan’s words, coupled with his lips traveling over my throat, produce heat that vibrates outward, igniting a throbbing in all my pulse points. Then he cups my breasts as if he already knows the condition he’ll find them in.

I repeat the mantra three times,
I am not going to fuck my Dom in this limousine,
before I say, and “Can you ask Moses to hurry?”

~*~

Fairy Hoochie Mama and Triple-G are so wired, they can barely stand it. They’re both dressed out in their own version of Grotto outfits to match mine, and they take turns wielding tiny crops and floggers to tantalize each another. I tune them out so I won’t flub my first full foray back into the Grotto.

In our first scene, Tristan suspends me blindfolded from the ceiling on a rig, and he feasts between my legs as if he didn’t just consume a seven-course dinner at his father’s house. 

“Have you noticed how tight your body has gotten, Keisha?” He says as he licks a trail down my inner thigh.

“Ummm, yes, Sir.” I’m practically purring.

“Aren’t you glad I insisted you do a regular workout regimen?” He clamps his mouth onto my sex and pushes his tongue deep into me. My eyes roll back into my head, the sensation is so intense. The next thing I know, he smacks me on my ass, but he doesn’t remove his mouth. Then I realize I didn’t answer him.

“Yes—yes, Sir.” It’s hard to form words when he has me at such a disadvantage.

At the exact moment I’m winding up to orgasm Tristan leaves me, and I almost grunt with frustration before I realize that would be a mistake. I’m not angling to be punished on our first full weekend back in his role-play room. I hear him moving around, opening and closing drawers. Almost immediately he returns and smacks my ass softly with his hand again—for good measure, I suppose.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. Then I hear a buzzing sound.

“Y-yes,” I say, hesitant only because I’m not sure what he’s about to do to me. I feel something smooth and warm being slathered on my anus. Warmed lube, no doubt. Then I feel something cool and heavy being inserted. It vibrates deliciously.

I want to moan with pleasure, but I haven’t been given permission to speak.

“You may make noise.”

I grunt in response.

Then I’m lowered out of the semi-split, down, down, down until I’m just shy of the floor, I think. The cushioned straps around my torso allow gravity to take over as my legs dangle free. The vibrating plug varies in intensity as he changes my position. I moan, but it’s drowned out by the humming.

Tristan immerses his hands in my curls and holds my head steady as he kisses me. I can taste my own slightly salty twang on his lips, and it makes me wetter, remembering how he just performed what I can only describe as acrobatic cunnilingus on me to the tune of two world-rocking orgasms.