Ch. X: No Longer Alone
by Whispersecret ©
Copyright 2000 by the author. All rights reserved.
Rockwell trudged up the stairs at last. The police were finally gone, taking Frank away with them. The hired security people were on the job patrolling the house, and he’d sent Whitcomb to his own room and told him to sleep as long as he wanted.
Fiona had been expectedly stilted while the police talked to her, and she’d barely spoken two words to Rockwell since he’d taken the gun from her. After the initial questioning, she had gone upstairs, wanting to call her brother and tell him what had happened.
He thought about leaving her to herself tonight after what she’d been through, but he wanted to see her. He just couldn’t wait until morning. He paused outside her bedroom door. His heart was pounding so hard he swore he could hear it.
She knew now that he hadn’t made up the story about her father. He wished to God she hadn’t found out the truth the way she had, but there was nothing he could do about that now. It was over. Rockwell was fairly sure Frank would adhere to the arrangement they’d made before the police had arrived. If Frank pleaded guilty to attempted rape and kept quiet about Rockwell’s keeping him prisoner, he would get to keep the money from the sale of his company once he got out of prison. Thirty three million dollars was a pretty good incentive for good behavior.
Would Fiona blame him for what happened? He wouldn’t fault her if she did. She’d been the helpless victim of his self-centered sexual appetite. When he had greedily stolen her innocence, he had stomped on whatever dreams she might have had. When she resisted, he had ruthlessly beaten her down. He’d threatened her brother. He’d endangered her life, and in making Frank Sheridan listen in, he’d fostered a forbidden lust in her own father.
She, of all people, had seen his dark side, and he, of all people, had no right to expect anything from her except rejection or even out and out hatred.
But ever since he could remember, he’d yearned for someone to love him, even though he’d shielded himself from the tremendous hurt that often came from reaching out. Success, recognition, affection, even boundless sex—none of those could equal love. It was the only thing that could fill the void in his life. And Fiona was the only woman he had ever wanted it from.
So, with his heart in his throat, he opened the door to her room.
Instead of the darkness he expected, dozens of candles flickered. Fiona was pacing in the center of the room, but she stopped when he opened the door. He just stood there in shock. She was wearing his robe again, loosely belted, and as she walked toward him, he saw she was naked underneath.
"Do you know what time it is?" she asked him.
He shook his head dumbly. What was going on?
"It’s twelve fifteen. According to the contract, I’m no longer yours."
He combed his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He had come in here with the intention of saying a hell of a lot, but now he couldn’t think of a single thing.
When she was a foot away from him, she stopped and looked up at him. She was so beautiful in the candlelight, more beautiful than when he had first seen her in this room, stretched out in the bed like a green-eyed angel. His mouth went dry.
"I wanted to thank you for saving me…Jackson."
"What—what did you call me?"
"Jackson." Her eyes twinkled at him. "That’s your name isn’t it?"
"Well, yes, but—"
She touched his lips with her fingertips, silencing him. "You know, all this time I didn’t know what your first name was. I finally found out tonight when the police were questioning you." Her lips tilted in a slight smile. "Jackson. I like that."
"Fiona, what’s going on?"
She pulled his shirt out of his pants and proceeded to pull it up and over his head. He obliged her by lifting his arms.
"I’m trying to thank you for saving me."
When she reached for his belt buckle, he stopped her. "Don’t. You don’t have to do that."
"I want to."
"I don’t. I don’t want your gratitude, Fiona."
"What do you want, Jackson?" She lifted her eyes to his and let her hands drop to her sides.
Rockwell clenched his teeth. He rubbed at his unshaven chin. This was it. This is what he came her to tell her, but he felt shaky and scared. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He felt like he was going to vomit.
Fiona smiled at him. She kept her eyes on his, steady and unwavering, and in her sea-green gaze Rockwell saw a vision of himself, altered somehow. Like every one of his character flaws were diminished. All of the shadows he kept hidden from public view were banished. What he saw was so intense, he wanted to look away. But he couldn’t. In her eyes, he discovered an unconditional acceptance that humbled him. It made him want to live deep inside her forever, free from his own faults and weaknesses.
"What do you want, Jackson?" she murmured.
Rockwell took a long, deep breath.
"You." His voice sounded raspy, like he’d been wandering the Sahara for days without water. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I want you, Fiona. I love you."
Her face lit with happiness. She reached up, pulled his face down, and kissed him hard. Over and over she kissed his mouth, and Rockwell could only stand there, dumbfounded until she stopped and said, her words caressing his lips, "I want you too, Rockwell. I love you too."
It took a while before her words sunk into his brain. By the time he finally realized what she had said, he was on the bed, flat on his back. His pants were already off and she was kneeling between his thighs.
She loved him.
When Fiona’s velvet lips crept around his cock, Rockwell moaned. Wet and coaxing, they pulled at him. Within seconds he was fully hard, impervious to anything but the almost unbearable pleasure she was giving him. Her flowing tresses trailed along his abdomen, and he reached down to tangle his hands in the silky strands, as if to reassure himself that she was really there.
"Fiona…God, baby, that feels so good…"
She drew him into the hollow of her mouth, her lips tight around him. Sensation upon sensation spread from his groin through his whole body until he felt like he was drowning.
She loved him.
Her hands cradled his balls. Her mouth drove him toward the edge. Just when he was approaching the point of no return, she lifted her mouth off him and her luminous eyes met his. She must have sensed his imminent orgasm, because she gripped him tightly in the circle of her fingers. He gasped, desiring the release, but at the same time wanting to prolong the pleasure.
He sat up, breathing heavily. His cock was on fire. His whole body was ablaze with desire.
"Come here," he said hoarsely.
She shed the robe and smiled at him. His heart almost stopped beating. God, he loved her.
Rockwell took her by the shoulders and, with a deft twist, flipped her over on her back and pinned her beneath him. His rock hard cock was smashed between their bodies. She was panting, her eyes bright with excitement.
"You’re mine," he growled.
She parted her legs for him. He grinned and insinuated himself in the steamy vee between her thighs. His cock was poised at the entrance of her willing body. Precum flowed from him like syrup onto her pussy lips.
"Forever," he insisted. His eyes bored into hers.
With a moan, he pushed inside.
While Fiona’s cries of passion filled his heart with music, their bodies moved together in a dance as ancient and as splendid as love itself. She lifted him from his shallow existence to a surreal paradise, where he wanted to be a man she could admire, who deserved her respect, who earned her love. He thrust into her again and again, claiming her, loving her, inviting her into his soul, until at last, she dug her fingers into the flesh of his shoulders and her body bucked against his. Seeing her in the throes of orgasm brought on his own.
"Fiona…I—I love you!" The words burst from his lips as he experienced the most potent climax of his life. Rockwell felt like his entire being collapsed in on itself like a black hole, and then burst and expanded in a sun-bright, beautiful explosion. Her legs were locked around his waist. He could feel her pussy clenching his cock rhythmically as his essence flooded her body in a pulsing rush.
"I love you…I love you."
Three years later.
There were days when Rockwell woke up and still couldn’t believe his good fortune. Today was one of those days. He stood on the lanai of the oceanfront home he shared with Fiona and sipped his drink, anxious for her arrival.
Having lost a lot of the drive to succeed in business, Rockwell sold off most of his holdings. He did keep a select few companies, not wanting to completely cut himself off from the corporate world, but the companies he held onto were easily managed from home with only occasional trips away required. Besides, he wanted to be near Fiona, and it just wasn’t feasible to move his headquarters to Maui, where he and Fiona now made their home.
Rockwell had funded a research vessel, staffed it with a an able crew and a couple of well-respected, retired oceanographers, and put Fiona on board with them five days a week to work and learn as much as she could in and around the Hawaiian islands. She’d been on cloud nine ever since, dividing her time between her hands-on education and him. Surprisingly enough, he spent a good deal of his time with Fiona on The Love Boat, as she called it. He found the study of the coral reefs very interesting, and, after getting his diving certification, he conducted his own personal research on the mating habits of puffer fish.
Now, after two and a half years, Fiona had decided to take a break of undetermined length from her studies. So while she was wrapping things up on the ship, saying good-bye to her mentors, the crew, and the various sea creatures she’d "made friends with," he had come home to make certain everything was ready.
He’d made a trip to the local florist and made sure there were vases full of her favorite tropical blooms in every room in the house. Lani, their cook, had a replenished stock of lobster, and at Fiona’s request, he had gathered a large collection of wallpaper sample books and furniture catalogs. The remodeling work on the house was finally finished and she finally had time to concentrate on the decorating. The shipment of James Bond videos even arrived on time. Thank God for overnight deliveries.
When he heard her drive up, he put his drink down, snatched up the orchid lei he’d bought for her, and hurried to the door. She beamed when he draped the lei around her neck and greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss that warmed him to the tips of his toes and made him think briefly about postponing dinner for an hour or so.
She seemed to read his mind because she said with a laugh, "Jackson Rockwell! You’ll have to wait. I have to go to the bathroom right now and I’m starving."
"Do we have any lobster salad left?" she asked. "Do you think Lani would be upset if I asked her to make that for me?"
"Lobster salad again? Fiona, if you eat any more of that stuff you’re going to sprout claws. You’re single-handedly killing off the species."
"I can’t help it if I’m craving lobster salad."
"Why can’t you be like other women and crave something less exotic, like pickles or chocolate?"
"I’m special. Now go away and let me pee in peace."
Rockwell laughed. He’d anticipated her request and a pair of lovely lobster salad sandwiches already awaited them. Just how long did pregnant women crave certain foods? he wondered. Did he have five more months of lobster salad in his future?
When Fiona found him a few minutes later on the lanai, she kissed him again and stepped into his arms. As she snuggled up against him, he felt the slight swell of her belly.
"When do I get to feel it move?" he asked, rubbing her stomach.
"My book says any day now. For me, at least. I don’t know when you’ll be able to feel it."
"What does your book say about making love? When do we have to stop?"
"Well, supposedly we can keep doing it right up until the end if we want to."
"You’re kidding me." Rockwell frowned. "I don’t know about that. I mean, what if—what if he can see me? You know, when I’m inside you…"
Fiona laughed. "She can’t. Some other paranoid father asked the same thing, and the author of the book said that’s impossible."
"Well," he said, grinning, "if you’re sure…" He slid his hands up her torso and leaned down for a kiss.
"I’m sure," she said laughing, "but I want my lobster salad. Remember?"
"Oh, all right." He released her reluctantly and they sat down at the table, which overlooked the lagoon. "I suppose I can eat it one more time, but I get to pick dessert."
"Let me guess. I’m dessert."
"Now you’re getting the idea."
She laughed and began to tell him all about her last day on The Love Boat. As she talked, a feeling of utter contentment washed over him. This was everything he’d ever been afraid to dream of. He had a wife who loved him despite his many faults. She was going to have his baby, which thrilled him more than he ever thought possible. And as if that wasn’t enough, her sexual appetite rivaled his own.
He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve this, but as long as Fiona loved him, he didn’t care if he had to eat lobster salad everyday for the rest of his life.
Thousands of miles away, Frank Sheridan was sitting on a plastic bench in a concrete room, eating creamed corn and mystery meat stew. He had four more years left on his sentence, and he didn’t plan on doing a thing to jeopardize his parole. If he survived prison, a huge amount of money waited for him. Which meant continuing to cooperate with his cellmate, Bubba McCoy.
Bubba was into domination and kept Frank as a sort of jail pet. Ironically, he dubbed Frank, "Baby Girl." Fortunately for Frank, Bubba was very possessive and protected Frank from the rest of the prisoners. Unfortunately, Frank had to get real good at sucking cock and bending over to grab his ankles.
I hope you enjoyed reading "Hostile Takeover" as much as I enjoyed writing it. When I started this three months ago, I had no idea that my idea of a father selling his daughter to a corporate pirate would turn into this long and involved tale. I originally intended it to be a short vignette. I guess this just goes to prove that I am a romantic at heart and I like happy endings.
Thank you for sticking with it all the way to the end. I appreciate any and all comments, even, maybe even especially, the critical ones. <smiles>
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