Page 60 of Buying the Bride

I look down towards the High Line, and there is someone watching. The Tai Chi class is breaking up, and a man is standing, watching. Arousal washes through me like wildfire and I shudder. Andrew sees the man at the same time and laughs, knowing this is just turning me on even more. “Now you have your audience,” he whispers.

He thrusts in again, and I realize that this whole time he’s been holding back. This is so much more than what I’ve felt before, even just with him. I can’t think, can’t breathe. My fingers grab at the glass of the window in attempt to hold on to something, to anchor myself, but I can’t.

Every stroke brings me closer to my next orgasm, and it’s big. I can feel it building like I can see it from far away, and it grows. The man down below has pointed us out to some of his classmates and now several people are looking up, watching.

Andrew wraps his arm around me, fingers finding my clit effortlessly, and I’m so damn close. I’m moaning now, begging him to finish me, let me come again. I’m shaking with it, right on the edge, and he doesn’t stop. Andrew pounds into me, and then his thumb comes down on my clit and I’m screaming. I’m coming, and it tears through me like a storm. I sag against the window as he continues to move, and I feel his cock jerk as he comes too.

This pleasure feels like it’s never going to end, and I would be perfectly happy if it didn’t. I sag against the window as he slows, glancing down at our audience. Everyone has moved on except for the first man, who has a smile the size of Texas on his face.

My body is shivering with aftershocks, and as Andrew pulls out of me, I suddenly feel like something’s missing. He scoops me up and carries me back to his bed, where the coffee he made us—still warm—is waiting. “Well, I guess you are a screamer,” he says when we’ve settled back into the bed.

I snort. “Maybe I’m only a screamer with you.”

“I’m just fine with that.”

I finish my coffee and am dozing when I hear Andrew pick up his cellphone and make a call. “Hi, May, I’m going to be working from home today. Just let me know if there’s anything urgent.”

“You don’t have to stay home because of me,” I say through a fog of incoming sleep after he hangs up.

Andrew pulls me closer, fitting me against his chest. “I’d much rather stay here in bed with you. And tonight, we’re going to dinner.”


I shouldn’t have expected anything less, but going to dinner with Andrew is way more than I imagined. He fits me in a dress that he hasn’t debuted and calls easily the fanciest car I’ve ever seen to take us to the restaurant. I raise an eyebrow when it pulls up to the curb. “Business is really that good, huh?”

He winks. “It’s been all right.”

The young man driving the car hops out, and Andrew opens the door for me, and surprises me when he actually gets into the driver’s seat. He sees my look. “I’m not really the chauffeur type.”

“There are certain advantages to having a driver you know.”


I reach over and touch his arm, “You are free to do whatever you like while you’re being driven around.”

Even though his eyes are still on the street in front of us, I see the color in them deepen. “That’s an excellent point. Maybe I’ll think about that for next time.”

Andrew drives us to a restaurant in midtown called Serenity. It’s gorgeous Asian fusion, with dark and rich decor and a vibe of relaxed elegance. We’re seated immediately, and I wonder if Andrew comes here regularly, though I’m too busy taking in the little details of the restaurant to ask. Sculptures of glass flowers erupt at different points in the room, fabric twists in elegant drapes from the ceiling, and colored lights in the floor slowly rotate through the spectrum, giving the room a shifting rainbow glow.

“So,” Andrew says when we’ve settled and ordered, “you told me at the party that I’d hear the story of what you wanted to be.”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to hear that.”

He catches my hand across the table. “I do, actually.”