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9
Prim
I can’t stop humming, I’m so happy. Barry is everything I want in a man and even more. He’s kind, attentive, and generous in and out of bed. I know he wants more because he’s been looking at me a lot. Not just in a sexual way, but really looking at me, even if he hasn’t said anything yet. But I have to think because I have such a dark secret that I don’t even know where to start.
After all, I’ve been ignoring my family this entire time. Sure, I still go back to New Jersey, but I slip in really late and then leave early in the mornings. I have no idea what Victoria and Malcolm think I’m doing, but I don’t care. This is my time with my man, and I want to enjoy it.
Of course, there’s that pesky arranged marriage thing but honestly, I haven’t paid it much attention for the past three months. Maybe Samuel Coleman’s out of rehab now, or maybe not. His problems were serious, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to ante up for another three month term.
Then again, Samuel seems like a hazy memory and I’m living in the present now. I don’t care what anyone thinks, and Barry and I have been happy in our little bubble. This man treats me well, has my best interests at heart, and takes me until I scream every time we’re together.
With that, I wrap a towel around myself and look in the mirror. A curvy girl looks back with her cheeks glowing and her damp brown ringlets a mess. My eyes sparkle and maybe I’ve put on a few pounds since I started dating Barry, but my man doesn’t mind. If anything, he says it gives him more to hold onto, and the sentiment makes me feel good about myself. I’m definitely going to reward him for that.
With a dramatic fling of my wrist, I open the bathroom door and then sashay into the master bedroom. It’s gorgeous with floor to ceiling windows (although of course, the curtains are pulled shut at the moment) as well as a huge king size bed. I playfully twirl and then drop my towel, revealing my flushed curves, before planting a hand on one hip.
“Are you ready for me to blow your mind, big boy?” I coo playfully at the man on the bed. “I promise I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve that you’ll like.”
But there’s no sound as I twirl again, making sure to wiggle my ass in the direction of the bed. That’s when I look over my shoulder to see Barry sitting on the mattress. He’s practically vibrating with rage and his face has turned an ugly shade of purple.
What the hell? What happened? I’ve never seen him like this. Maybe he’s having a heart attack? But then, the huge man opens his mouth and bellows, “What the fuck is this?”
At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about. Then I see him clutching my phone so tight that his knuckles are white.
“What is what?” I ask, edging closer to the bed. “What’s gotten into you?”
But he jumps up and waves the phone wildly in my face, and suddenly I see. It’s the video of me and Barry from our first date, and in this particular still, I’ve got his cock in my mouth as he rakes his fingers through my hair, his eyes closed in ecstasy.
Oh shit. I shudder, already bracing for the worst. He knows. He saw it. And he’s angry. I curse myself silently. Why didn’t I delete that video? Why didn’t I at least bury it in my back-up drive, where it can do no harm? Even more, what was I thinking? Why was I so careless with his feelings? Now, I’ve hurt the billionaire and angered the man I love needlessly.
Even worse, Barry’s not going to believe me when I tell him my sad story about the arranged marriage to Sam Coleman. Or if he believes me, he’s not going to agree with my plan. After all, why would any man want a sex tape to get out? If other people saw, he’d be humiliated and he’s a famous person in some circles. Oh shit. I’ve fucked up and my heart literally hurts. I can see the writing on the wall as I look at his face because this is not going to go well.
I reach out one hand.
“Barry,” I begin, but he cuts me off with an angry look.
“Don’t come near me. If you think you’re going to solve this with a few kisses and a bout of hard sex with your naked body, you are very wrong.”
I back away slowly and sit in a chair, trying to cover myself with the discarded towel. In a calm, but high-pitched voice I can’t seem to control, I begin. “Can I explain at least? Please, hear me out.”
