Romance: Luther's Property (75 page)

For the next few days Bradley absorbed himself in his work,
and didn’t even try to talk to Zoey. She seemed more than content to stay out of
his way and he was glad for that. He had no idea what to say to her or even
begin to describe why he was feeling what he was feeling.

When he saw her there, standing in nothing but her matching
bra and panties, a switch had went off inside of him. Anger, confusion, and
contempt all filled him, and he had no idea why. After all, she had no reason
to try to trap him. Had he not promised her all those years ago that she could
come to him for help? And now he was doing exactly that, so why was he suddenly
so suspicious of her?

Deep down he knew it was because he couldn’t understand why
she would want him. He was older than her, fifteen years to be precise, and a
career driven man. The reason why he hadn’t had a girlfriend then or many times
before was because he was married to his job. He knew that about himself, and
didn’t mind that fact at all. After all, his job was what paid for his nice
house, his fancy clothes, and the good, nutritional food that Zoey made for
him.

Bradley knew what he looked like, and he knew that as far as
appearances went, he was a pretty handsome guy. He kept his body neat and in
check at all times. At least once a day he was at the gym for an hour, either
running or lifting weights. He had seen what a life of at desk stasis could do
to a man’s body, and he was not ready for that yet. Most of the men in his firm
had tires around their bellies and balding hair, thanks to their bad diets.

Being as busy as they were, he understood that they probably
didn’t have time to pay attention to their diet. However, Bradley had worked
his ass off to get to partner level in his late twenties. It was part of the
reason why his marriage with Zoey’s mother didn’t work out. She wanted him home
with her all the time, and he was hardly ever there. Then, when he started
showing up for Zoey’s games and recitals, she had started getting jealous.

Bradley realized how off track with his work he was getting
and forced his mind to come back to the present. He knew that he was only
stalling to do more work on Zoey’s case, but if he wanted to get her out of the
house he would have to do it, and soon too. Though she may be a confusion to
him at the moment, she was still wrongfully fired, and she deserved justice for
that. Cracking his knuckles, he picked up his phone and punched in the
appropriate numbers.

~

Zoey stared down at her sliced hard-boiled egg. It looked
sad sitting on the plate all alone, but ever since her fight with Bradley she
just hadn’t felt hungry. She wanted him to talk to her. Sure, he still said
please and thank you at the dinner table as he was fixing his plate. But he
always ate in his room or in his study, and when he was done he would simply
leave his plate and glass outside of his doorway for her to collect, just like
a hired maid. It hurt her feelings, but then again, he had warned her that she
had to work for her keep.

She missed sharing meals with him. It was something she had
come to look forward as soon as it started, even though they’d only done so a
couple times. It was her hope that by dining together she would get to know who
Bradley was now. Yes, she knew that he was a successful, handsome lawyer, but
what else was he? What did he like? Dislike? Did he still like to take the
occasional toke of weed like he had when she was younger, or had he moved on to
harder drugs? Maybe he didn’t do drugs at all. Did he go out to bars and pick
up women or did they just throw themselves at him? If she had to guess, she
would say the latter. He was absolute stud, and how he managed to be single was
beyond her.

Getting up, Zoey walked with her plate in her hands and took
it to the trash. She slid the remnants of her snack into the black garbage bag
and rinsed off her plate. When she was done, she walked upstairs to her room
and pulled out her favorite blue dress. Enough was enough, she decided. She
would throw on her favorite dress, add a little red lipstick, and cook them a
meal. If he tried to walk away with his plate she would just stop him. No
talking? Fine then, no eating.

She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she was done
being upset about it. Whether he liked it or not, they were going to talk about
their feelings and figure out what to do about them together. And if he
wouldn’t, well, then she would just have to find another place to go and hope
for the best there.

Bradley could smell the heavenly scent of Zoey’s cooking as
soon as he pulled into the garage. His stomach growled loudly, and he felt a
little pool of drool start to form in the corner of his mouth. He had to admit
that the girl could cook. He hated eating in his office, but it was the only
way he could think of to make sure that she was out of reach of his mood swings
and his odd agitation against her. In the house, he heard the music of the
reggaeton persuasion playing softly from the kitchen.

After climbing the stairs he opened the door that led into
the kitchen and the sight he saw put a smile on his face. There was Zoey in an
adorable navy blue dress and white apron tied over it. She was in her bare feet
and was swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music as she cooked. She looked
happy and carefree. She looked like she belonged there, in his home. A surge of
guilt shot through his heart as he thought of their recent discomfort, and he
turned to walk away.

Before he could, Zoey spotted him and grabbed his arm. She
pulled him into the kitchen. “And just where do you think you’re going?” She
asked, still holding up his arm and spinning herself around underneath it.

“Well, I’ve got some stuff to work on, so I was going to go
to my office and”-

“Oh no,” Zoey replied, shaking her head as she continued to
dance. “No work tonight. Tonight you and I are going to sit down to dinner
again and we are going to talk out what happened the other night. Then if you
want we can talk about my case. But first, we get rid of whatever weirdness is
between us, okay? You mean a lot to me and I think I mean a lot to you, so I
don’t want it here.”

Bradley panicked at the idea of having to explain himself,
and he started to shake his head no. When he did, Zoey suddenly grew serious
and turned off her music. As she walked back towards him he saw the stride of a
woman, not a little girl, and he knew he was in trouble.

“Listen, I can make your life really easy, or I can make it
really difficult. You want to me to follow you around absolutely everywhere?
Simply sitting or standing by watching you relentlessly like a creepy live doll
until we talk about this? No? I didn’t think so. So wash your hands and take a
seat. Dinner is about ready.”

Realization of his mistake in thinking that Zoey was still a
child or unable to take care of herself suddenly dawned on him. He had been
wrong. Stupidly wrong. Obediently he put down his briefcase and walked over to
the small sink in the kitchen island to wash his hands. When he was done, he
removed his suit jacket and picked out a bottle of wine from the wine cellar.

When he came back up he saw that Zoey had laid out a
beautiful spread of homemade tortillas, salsa, guacamole, steak fajitas, and
Spanish rice. It smelled heavenly and tempting looking steam rose from all of
the sizzling dishes. Bradley’s stomach grumbled at the sight, and he realized
that in his busy schedule he had forgotten to eat that day.

“Thank you for making this,” he told her, uncorking the
wine. It was the first words he had spoken to her since he had asked her to
leave his room. He felt that he should be saying much more, but the rest would
have to wait until after dinner.

“You’re very welcome,” she responded, putting two wine
glasses on the table. “Now please, let’s eat.”

Nodding his head, Bradley made his way to the table and
poured them each a glass of wine. She was right. It was time to talk. No matter
how embarrassed of himself he might be.

“I can’t believe you thought that about me,” Zoey whispered,
her voice full of sadness.

“I can’t either honestly. I know that we haven’t got to sit
down and get to ‘re’ learn one another yet, but I should have known better that
you were nothing like that. Nothing like, well, your mother.” Bradley
apologized, yet again.

As she had suggested, they had sat down and began to discuss
the awkward moment they had shared and the unsettling silence since then.
Bradley had told her everything, including how ridiculous he felt when he
realized that he had made a stupid mistake. He wanted to fix it, and he hoped
that she would let him.

“I really am sorry, Zoey. I know that you didn’t need my old
man insecurities, especially with what you’re going through with your ex
company and you ex boyfriend right now. I don’t-I can’t even begin to properly
explain myself.”

Zoey picked up her wine glass and swirled the dark red
contents around in it, taking in everything that he had just said. She knew
that she was going to cut him some slack. After all he was still paying her
bills and letting her stay with him, not to mention he was still handling her
case that could easily set her up for life. However, it didn’t change the fact
that he had basically thought she was a gold digger just because she wanted to
kiss him.

As far as she knew, gold diggers didn’t come crawling for
help at their lowest point. No, they came dressed in the tightest man-catching
dresses and seduced their ways into bank accounts. She was not that type of
woman, and never had been either. It hurt her to think that he had thought she
was.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said finally, taking a sip of
her wine. “We haven’t really gotten to know one another or who we’ve become
since we last saw another. Maybe we should fix that.”

“Yes,” Bradley said, helping himself to some more Spanish
rice. “Absolutely, let’s do that. I want to go get to know you better, Zoey.
Not just for the case, but for our friendship. All I really remember about you
is that you hate dolls and that you were disgusted by pickled relish,” he
joked.

Zoey laughed. “Both are still true actually. The best thing
about moving out of mother’s house was the fact that I never had to look at
another horrifying porcelain doll again.”

Bradley grinned, finally feeling comfortable around his
lovely younger lady again. “What else?” He asked. “I want more.”

As the two began to talk, Bradley found out that a lot in
Zoey’s life had changed after she moved out of her mother’s house, and even
while he had still been married to her. She went through what she called a wild
stage her freshman year of college after she turned eighteen. On a whim she and
a couple of her girlfriends all went out and got their hair dyed wild colors.
She had chosen a light aqua blue, and had loved it. She admitted that from time
to time she missed the long blue locks and the fake nose ring she would don to
go to class.

Another surprise was that she had also gotten a tattoo. A
small one, on her right butt cheek that he must have missed when he was
studying her ass so closely the other day. She claimed that is was no bigger
than a kiwi and was a simple black cutout of a cat. She had thought that it
suited her best among the array of possibilities, and she had yet to regret her
decision. Once she moved out of the freshman dorms and started living off
campus, she found her love of cooking and quickly became the house’s unofficial
den mother. She cooked the meals, did their laundry, and cleaned up the
apartment. In return they all pitched in and paid for rent.

“It was really nice actually because I didn’t have to get a
loan for housing anymore,” she explained, which was a struggle to get each
year. She talked about her part time jobs as a TA and a student librarian, and
how it gave her the freedom to be basically be paid to study. It was an
admission of guilt that she had abused the system, but she didn’t feel guilty
about it. After all the school was charging her an outrageous price for
admission and she felt as if they owed her a little something for her troubles.

“I have to say, you’re a little more rebellious than I could
have imagined,” Bradley admitted. “However, you could have gone down much
darker paths than the ones you chose. I’m proud of you for knowing when to
quit.”

Zoey smiled sadly, playing with her melted puddle of ice
cream. “I wish that were even half true. If it was then maybe I wouldn’t be in
the position that I’m in now. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get caught
up in this cliché of sleeping with my boss,” she groaned.

“Yeah, how did that happen anyway?” Bradley asked,
intrigued.

“What can I say?” Zoey asked, shrugging her shoulders. I
was, well, I mean I guess I still am a romantic, and out first meeting was
straight out of a romance movie. I was fresh out of college and ready to join
the work force. I had a stack of resumes, two solid letters of recommendations
from two of my business professors, and a strong can-do attitude. With the help
of my guidance counselor I had been set up on three interviews in major
companies, and I was on my way to my first one.

Like any other career driven person I decided to go into
Starbucks and get a coffee. I remember standing in the long line of businessmen
and women in their suits and just thinking, ‘this is it, this is exactly the
way I want my life to be’. Anyway, when it came time to place my order I tried
to open my briefcase with one hand. To my horror it flopped open and my money,
keys, make up, and forty copies of my resume went scattering across the room. I
was mortified, and no one moved to help me pick it all up. Except for Zack. He
had been two people behind me and he had later admitted that he had been
watching me do my little excited feet shuffle-it’s something I do to occupy
myself when I have to stand in line.

He was trying to think of an excuse to talk to me when my
briefcase exploded and he ceased the moment. He was calm, smooth, and he had
the most charming smile. He paid for my coffee and asked me if I had time to
chat. When I told him I had to go for an interview he asked where. Surprise,
surprise, not only did he work for Bronson Advertising, but he was the very
hiring manager that was going to interview me.

It all seemed so romantic and destined at the time. And to
be fair on myself, I had no idea that he was eventually going to become my
boss. That came later. Still, it sucked. Everyone knew that we were dating by
then so they made a sport out of making me feel like the cliché secretary that
was screwing his boss. It was mortifying,” she sighed, pouring herself another
glass of wine. “Either way, I’m glad it’s over. What about you? Have any cute
romances to brag about?”

“Me? Bradley asked, taking the bottle from her to pour his
own glass. “No. No my last great romance was with Tori, and that went straight
down the drain. We were married for six years but we should have been divorced
after only two. But I was young and naïve at the time, and I didn’t know that
you could have love without hating the other person.

Since her I’ve gone on a few dates. Hell, I’ve had plenty of
one-night stands. Well I used to anyway. They lost their flare about a year
ago, and I don’t go out bar hanging like I used to. It was so easy though, you
know? I would walk in with my expensive suit and all I had to do was smile. Women
would come from all directions to buy me a drink, hoping that I was there for a
wife. I don’t know though, I could just never take any of them seriously.”

Bradley admitted that he liked the attention, one way or
another. Though he hadn’t found a second wife he’d still had a lot of fine
trying to find her. He knew how easily he could charm a woman right out of her
dress, and often enjoyed exercising that power of his. Still, none of them had
ever made it past a third date.

“Do you want to get married?” He asked suddenly, enjoying
the sleepy, relaxed feeling the wine was giving him.

Zoey laughed, shrugged her shoulder, and then shook her
head. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I thought that I did. You know Zack, he didn’t
show any signs of unhappiness before our break up. Didn’t spend any less time
with me, didn’t stop doing sweet things for me. It was like he suddenly decided
that it was time for him to be with someone else. Of course, seeing as how he
had all of my stuff quickly organized and out of his apartment, he obviously
had some sort of plan.

I don’t know if I could ever trust someone again after that.
Or if I did, I would have to have open communication. Like, all the time. From
the big stuff down to the little stuff, right down to which soap we should buy
to do dishes, and stuff like that.”

Bradley laughed and drained his glass. He couldn’t blame
her. Lord knows he was scarred after Tori. In his relaxed state, his foot had
slid across the tile floor, bumping into Zoey’s. Their feet sat side by side
for a moment, then Bradley’s toes slowly began to wander over her foot. His big
toe stroked back and forth along the outer plate of her foot, tracing the bone
that was there.

For several moments they sat in comfortable silence as
Bradley’s foot slowly travelled from her foot up to her calf. As he did, Zoey
found herself spreading her legs a little wider, enjoying the feel of his
touch. With her foot, she began to rub along the muscle of his calf as well,
tugging at the fabric of his pants with his toes.

“What are we doing?” Bradley asked, a small grin on his
face.

“Playing footsie,” Zoey replied, sliding her foot up higher
so that it rested on his inner thigh.

“This isn’t the footsie that I remember from high school,”
Bradley said, only half joking. He knew that he was playing with fire, but
there wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t want to get burned. He and Zoey
were finally on a good track again, and he enjoyed the growing intimacy they
were beginning to feel for one another.

“If I sat in your lap- would you push me away?” Zoey asked,
her eyes slowly travelling over Bradley’s handsome face and torso.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” Bradley
replied, his voice soft and full of honesty. He wanted her. Hell, he wanted her
so bad he could barely see straight. It was time to admit that to himself and
stop getting in his way.

Emboldened, Zoey rose from her chair and straddled Bradley,
putting her hands on his shoulders so that she could slowly lower herself down
into his lap while facing him. Already she could feel the dampness between her
legs and on her thong. She gasped when she settled into Bradley’s lap, finding
his cock hard and straining against his pants.

“Oh,” she moaned, slightly bucking her hips against his
crotch to feel his hardness glide over her the damp fabric of her panties. It
teased her to no end, and as she did it she felt her nipples harden tightly
beneath her dress.

“You look good there,” Bradley murmured, reaching out so he
could wrap his hands around her waist. “Really good.”

“I like being here,” she answered, her voice soft and full
of arousal. Her pouty lips parted as she felt Bradley’s hands guide her hips
into another bucking motion, this time making them both moan.

It would be so easy, he thought, to simply unzip his pants,
part her panties, and sink deeply into her. She could ride him right there in
the chair. When she was tired, he could simply pick her up and lay her across
the table.

“Yes,” Zoey breathed, as if she could read his mind. “I want
you too, yes,” she moaned, her hand going to his zipper.

He made no move to stop her. Instead, he helped by
unbuckling his pants. As soon as her hand wrapped around his cock he gasped and
growled in pleasure. It had been quite a while since he had been with a woman,
and he had forgotten how amazing a simple touch could feel when it came to
sexual pleasure.

With trembling fingers he hitched the fabric of her thong
and pulled it to the side, sliding his middle finger deep between her folds in
one slick, wet motion. This time it was Zoey’s turn to moan. Immediately she
began to gyrate her hips against his fingers, so aroused that her juices were
already flowing over his knuckles.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, rising up high enough so that she
could take him into her.

Bradley’s finger slipped out of her immediately, and he
groaned in ecstasy when he felt her hot, wet folds slide erotically down over
his cock. She took in every inch that she could, and easily found her rhythm
with him as she began to rock back and forth. Her frame was small, as was her
passage. She squeezed and milked his cock tightly, as if her hot center was
made just for him.

“Yes,” Bradley moaned, swearing under his breath. “Fuck, how
I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, using his hands to guide her hips into the
rhythm he wanted the most.

“Me too, Bradley,” Zoey moaned. Her juices flooded the apex
of her legs, soaking into Bradley’s pants. Zack had been okay in bed, but he
had never felt like this. Bradley filled every spare inch of her, as if he were
taking over every part of her body that she could feel. As their rhythm
increased, Zoey began to pant and moan in need. It seemed like every time she
got close to feeling her orgasm explode Bradley would pause, or slow. It was
becoming an unfair torture, one that she soon felt as if she could no longer
stand.

“Please,” Zoey begged, her legs trembling from both arousal
and fatigue.

“What’s wrong?” Bradley asked, his voice dripping with
sarcasm as he picked her up and pushed her down onto the table. With her back
supported by the heavy oak furniture, he was able to piston his hips harder and
faster into her, driving as deep as he could. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes!” Zoey practically screamed, her nails digging into the
table for support. Every breath she exhaled carried a moan or a plea for more,
the woman’s senses so heightened that every single touch, from Bradley or
otherwise, turned her on uncontrollably.