Alpha Billionaire Series

MANDY

The look on Grant's face when I told him I needed him took my breath completely away. He was already doing a good job of leaving me needing more of him, but that look.

I didn’t focus on it too much because once he had sheathed himself in a condom, his mouth was on mine and his body covered me. Everything was right with the world the second he slid into me. I knew he felt as deeply as I did. That's what tha look had told me. I wasn't the only one in danger of falling in love.

His body in mine was the most pleasurable experience. I don't think there was anything that could ever beat this feeling, except for maybe the orgasm that followed. I think I was actually crying as Grant took me to the brink and into the chasm of ecstasy. Breathing was difficult, moving was harder. MY entire body thrummed and pulsed as Grant continued relentlessly until I didn't think I could handle it any longer.

He seized and shouted and pressed his hips tights to mine. We both collapsed, sweaty and limp.

“Be right back,” Grant muttered. I didn’t think he actually had the stamina to speak clearly. “Fuck.”

“What?” I struggled to push up and watch him through the bathroom door. I could barely catch a glimpse of his shoulder as he cleaned up and washed his hands.

He stepped out of the bathroom drying his hands. “The condom broke, do you need me to go into town and get you anything?”

Ishook my head and collapsed back on the bed. “It's all good. I'm on the pill. The condoms are just so we don't give each other weird sex cooties until we decide to be exclusive and shit like that"

The look on his face was almost hurt when he sat on the edge of the bed. He was shaking his head. “There is no “until we decide! We're exclusive.”

My gut clenched, and I pasted a fake smile on my face. I guess I had read his expression all wrong. I thought he was serious, and here he was telling me we weren't, that the condoms were necessary.

“I don't have," he paused, “cooties. And the decision has been made.” He was so serious.

Iwas trying to be flippant and make him think I was okay being a lakeside booty call, and he was being serious. I sat up. “Exclusive?” I squeaked out.

He nodded. “Cootie free?” he asked.

I nodded. I threw my arms around him and let him press me back into the mattress.

Bohemian Rhapsody filled the silence of the room.

“What is that?” Grant growled.

“Mom!” I scrambled out of bed and fished my phone out of my shorts pocket.

“Hi Mom,” I said, trying to sound as bored as possible. As far as she knew I was sitting alone in a hotel room watching TV. “Mandy, on your way back tomorrow, will you pick up curds from Ferme de Fromage for me?”

“That's in the opposite direction. Do you want me to pick you up in the morning and we can drive out together? Make a day of itz”

I reached out and placed my hand on Grant's chest. I wanted to stay with him for as long as possible. But I also needed to take care of Mom.

“I don't think so. I'm so tired, but I really want some curds. You and Vivica ate them all so fast. I feel like I didn't get any for myself” She sounded like a little old lady with a thin warbling voice, she didn't sound like Mom at all.

Guilt pierced my soul. I was a bad daughter. “Sorry about that. 'm probably going to sleep late. I'l give you a call before I head out. It's going to take me most of the day.”

I extended the time it would take to drive across lake country and to Ferme de Fromage, thinking that Mom wasn't really going to pay too much attention, as long as I got home sometime tomorrow with her cheese curds.

“That sounds like a good idea. I'm going to make myself a snack and head to bed."

“It's still early.” The sky on the other side of Grant's bedroom window was still blue but the clouds were starting to be tipped with the pinks and oranges of the impending sunset.

“My tired bones can't really tell the time. They are either awake or tired.”

“Good night, Mom, love you." I ended the call.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Grant kissed the side of my hip, letting his lips linger on my skin.

“Want to go to a cheesemaker with me?” I asked

“Can't you just get cheese at the grocery store?”

“What rock have you been living under? It's cheese Grant, the good stuff comes from—"

“Caterers. I usually pay people to do my grocery shopping, Mandy. Out here my life is completely different.”

“Well, the good stuff, the stuff your caterers get is artisan, craft-made, and it doesn’t come from the grocery store. That's what Ferme de Fromage is. Mom wants some of their cheese curds.” I sighed. My breath quavered.

Grant pulled me into bed against his chest, wrapping around me.

“Ever since Mom got sick’— I couldn't bring myself to say cancer, or disease, she was sick, had an illness— “I try to make sure I do things for her. Little things that might seem trivial to other people, but.”

“She's your mother, you want to take care of her. I understand. I'd be very happy to go to this artisan cheese factory—" “Ferme de Fromage,’ I corrected.

“Ferme de Fromage with you tomorrow. It means I get more quality, uninterrupted time from you."

Islept deeply for the first time in months in Grant's embrace. In the morning he made omelets with slices of the steak we never grilled from the night before.

“I don't think you are properly appreciating life in the country,” I said.

Grant shot a glare in my direction. It wasn't as if he needed to keep his eye on the road. We weren't going anywhere. We wert stuck in a rare countryside traffic jam.

“There's probably a tractor on the road a few miles up. We're not in a hurry. Are we?” I asked.

“I thought you wanted to get to the cheese farm today.”

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. “I thought you wanted to spend time with me." I crossed my arms and stuck my lower lip out in my best pout.

Grant reached over and flicked a finger over my lower lip. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me toward him as he leaned over. He kissed the smile back onto my face.

“I want to be with you. I can’t think of anyone I'd rather be stuck in country traffic with. I figured I left traffic behind in Chicago.’

The traffic picked up and as we rounded a curve, we saw the reason for the traffic jam. A blinking sign with an arrow, a cop car directing traffic, and a huge roadside banner indicated we were about to drive past a small festival.

“Oh, let's go" I said pointing into the parking lot.

Grant chuckled and turned the car into the make-shift parking lot in an old field. “What is this?”

“I don’t know, but we're about to find out,” I said, jumping out of the car.

Itook his hand and we walked into the throng. It was a crowded little festival, not much bigger than the parking lot of the country store. For as small as it was, it drew a crowd, most likely people like us who happened upon it. There were mostly food vendors, and the smell of fresh kettle corn made my stomach grumble.

“You want some?” I asked as I pulled my wallet out of my pocket. I headed straight to the popcorn vendor.

“I've got this,” Grant said as he handed over a crisp bill, and then handed me a bag of caramel kettle corn.

I huffed. “I can buy my own popcorn.”

I shoved my wadded-up singles back into my wallet and put the wallet back in my pocket. Stopping at every booth, I looked at everything. I wondered if Grant would like any of the hand tooled leather items at one booth, but I didn't think he needec a belt sheath for a hunting knife, and I doubt he wore anything less than designer. I didn't think a belt with his name stamped on the back was his style.

I watched as one woman carefully painted names and flowers onto grains of rice, and then carefully put the grain in a small glass vial.

“Isn't this so cool?” I asked Grant.

He smiled and didn't say much as I dragged him from booth to booth. He paid when I picked up a few jars of homemade apple butter and pickled beans.

“What is all of this?” he asked as he looked at a jar of peppers.

“They're different kinds of pickles. Mom loves them. This will make her happy.”

“Pickles and cheese?”

I'stopped and put my hands on my hips. “Hey, don't knock pickles and cheese”

Grant shrugged, he couldn't gesture wildly because his arms were full of the jars from the various vendors, and my popcorn, “I'm not, you're cute. Did you see that?” He tilted his head.

I followed his gaze and gasped. The cutest vintage pickup truck, the kind with the rounded hood and exposed wheel wells and more rust spots than paint, had been staged with a few wooden crates, and old milk cans with sunflower arrangements. “Would you like your picture taken?” a woman with a huge camera smiled up at me from a folding camp chair.

Before I had a chance to tell her I didn't think so, Grant was handing over more money. “That sounds like a great idea.”

I waved at him to join me. He shook his head. “It's for your mother. She isn't going to want to see me."

I wanted to see him. A picture of the two of us would be nice. I smiled for the camera and watched him wander off. He didn't come back until I was looking at pictures with the photographer.

“You can take the files to any photo center to have them printed. I'll include a release, so they won't give you any problems, she explained.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Send all of them to me at this email.”

He wrote his email down as I selected which images I wanted.

“That was fun, thank you,” I said.

“What's next?” Grant asked as we walked back toward the car. “The cheese farm?”

“Ferme de Fromage," I confirmed.

Grant placed our purchases in the trunk and slid into the car next to me. He held out a small package to me. “I got you a littl present.”

I'smiled and felt giddy inside. “You didn't need to do that."

He had paid for everything during our time at the little festival.

“You were fascinated by these. I thought you should have one.”

I laughed as I opened the gift to find my name written in the tiniest lettering on a grain of rice inside a bottle. I fastened the necklace around my neck. I never wanted to take it off.