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Money Can’t Buy Love
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Sometimes love demands a second chance, but it will never be bought, no matter the amount.
Michael Carrington promised himself after losing his wife that he was done with love. No more investing in anything he wasn’t capable of walking away from. Sex and high-dollar business deals had become the center of his world. Throw in a touch of danger, and he had all he needed outside of a new assistant.
Rainey Foster had finally graduated college, and as a struggling single mom, she just needed someone to give her a chance. She was willing to go all in with the right employer, as long as the buck stopped there. He could have her time, her commitment and her attention, but no one will ever have her heart again. She thought she had things figured out until she comes face to face with the illustrious Michael Carrington.
Powerful. Confident. Sexy as Hell.
Lust might ignite the flame between them, but love will have its way.
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“So good,” the pretty blond I had bent over my hotel bed moaned as she gripped the sheets, taking me like a champ.
“Yeah. You are.” I ran my hand up her back, pressing my fingers into her skin as she arched and cried out. I’d hit the spot deep inside of her I’d been after for the last thirty minutes. She was exquisite, and where I wished she was the ballsy red head I’d met in Bar Harbor a few months back, she wasn’t.
Lisa was soon to be a faint memory, though I hated to see her go. I’d almost given up my bachelorhood for the pretty girl, but she wanted a younger man. Good for her. The blond beneath me was more than happy to let me take the reins, not that she had much of a choice.
I rolled my hips and drove the full length of my cock deep inside of her as she whimpered and pressed back, hungry for anything I would give her.
“Michael. Don’t stop.” She lifted up a little and tucked her hips in, tugging on my erection tightly with her sweet body.
“I won’t. Just come for me.” I bent over the top of her and pressed my teeth into the back of her shoulder as she came, thrashing beneath me. She sounded like every other woman I’d been with over the last few years, and yet there was something so beautiful about watching each of them lose themselves in pleasure.
Pleasure. It was almost a four-letter word in my world, and one I indulged in a little too often, but life was short. That was a lesson I knew all too well. I forced away thoughts of my late wife and doubled my efforts, wanting to hear Sandy… or was it Sarah, come again. Whoever she was, I wanted to hear her blow one more time.
“Fuck,” she cried out and bucked against me, riding me in a way that had me wanting to give her my number instead of walking out and never looking back.
“Let yourself go.” I stood up and ran my fingers up the sides of her spine, pressing in hard until I reached her hair. With a handful of her blond silkiness, I rammed into her until the world exploded and all that was left was pure, unadulterated bliss.
Why anyone would choose liquor or drugs to disappear from life was beyond me. Fucking was legal, free in most cases and so much better than the alternatives.
It was, for sure, my drug of choice.
I crossed the border into New York State a little while later and my foot instinctively pressed harder on the gas pedal. “I love this city.”
And it loved me too.
I smiled and gripped the smooth steering wheel of the Maserati, quickly switching over to the left lane. There was something about being so close to home that made the blood pump faster through my veins. Nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of Manhattan and I could feel its energy from miles away. The slick surface of the road was no match for the luxury car. The tires hugged each curve as if the ground was bone dry. The cars in front of me moved out of the way as if they sensed my urgency to get home.
Lisa and the blond, and every other woman I spent time with in Bar Harbor were in the rearview mirror. I was headed back to my life, back to the throne where I ruled as king.
Overcast clouds hung heavy in the air, and I hoped I’d missed the brunt of the rain. I didn’t want traffic to slow down when I was so close. This highway was known for the insufferable rubber-neckers.
I still had a ways to go before I arrived home, which didn’t bother me much at all. I forcefully relaxed my shoulders. The trademark tenseness that all New Yorkers experienced had started to creep into my muscles. Normally, I didn’t give much notice to the feeling. The relaxation from my mini-vacation fought the tension, wanting to linger in the experience a bit longer.
I wasn’t ready to let go of the past few days just yet. Spending Thanksgiving at my summer house in Bar Harbor, Maine signaled the start of the holiday season for me. I’d started the event only two years ago but this year had surpassed the rest.
It gave me a place to be a different guy, allowing another part of my personality to push forward. It was the part of me that Cynthia loved best. The softer side she would say.
I’d sponsored a community event far away from the Manhattan spotlight which had been good for my soul. I admired the genuine nature and kindness of the people in Bar Harbor, and I was happy to give back. Meeting my old friend, Drake Demarco’s new wife, Sicily had been a bit of a blessing too. The pretty Sicilian baker had helped with the event, allowing me a chance to get to know her a little better. The fact that she was Lisa’s best friend should have caused awkwardness, but Lisa and I had been short lived. I wanted a relationship, surprising myself, and she wanted freedom, or so she said. Funny how freedom came in the body of a twenty-something year old man. It was a loss on my part, but one I’d eventually be thankful for. I didn’t need commitment, though a part of me yearned for it. I forced my thoughts back to the warmth I felt when I gave back, like I had recently in Bar Harbor. It was feeling I enjoyed. Maybe a little too much. I knew that same feeling would continue when I started planning the charity Christmas event that Cynthia had started years ago.