by J. L. Leslie
“Dance with me,” I say, boldly taking his arm and turning him to face me.
I am never the one to take the lead, and maybe it’s the whiskey, or the music. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ll probably never see him again, but I step to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He follows suit and holds me close, his hands gripping my waist before they slip around to cup my ass.
A slight gasp escapes my lips before he crashes his mouth to mine, lifting me against him and then lowering me to the floor. The rug is soft beneath me as he pins my body beneath his. My head is spinning, my entire body humming as he sheds his shirt.
I rise, licking my lips as I unbutton his pants, kissing the dusting of hair that trails below his belly button and disappears into his boxer briefs. God, I know why that’s called a happy trail. It definitely makes me happy ― deliriously happy.
He’s content to let me lavish kisses over his abs while he fishes a condom out of his wallet. He thumbs his pants down and I assist him with his briefs, his dick bobbing free from its restraint.
I watch with my mouth watering as Havoc sheathes himself and then he pushes me back, hiking up my skirt above my thighs. My thoughts are racing a hundred miles a minute as he grabs my shirt and rips it open, buttons scattering across the floor.
I let out a nervous giggle and he grins down at me before tugging my bra down, letting my hardened nipples pop free and capturing one with his mouth. My hands immediately go to his hair, fingers threading through the thick waves.
His tongue is making magic on my sensitive peaks when he pushes my panties to the side and thrust inside me, moaning “La mia fiamma.” I cry out, and he pumps again, driving deep inside my warmth. If there is anything in this entire world that feels more incredible, I haven’t found it or experienced it yet.
Havoc’s mouth moves up my skin, scorching the flesh of my chest up to my neck before he reaches my mouth. I can’t recall another man who kissed me while he fucked me, but this man does. Even when he breaks the kiss, his mouth is so close to mine that he breathes me in, the song still playing in the background. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.
I fear that this man has already done me in. One night is all it took. I’m afraid of what happens when this night ends, of what happens when he’s gone. The sun may not shine in the morning.
Six
Havoc
I lie on my office floor, naked as the day I was born, with only a light blanket covering me, and watch Frankie move around the room quietly picking up her discarded clothes. She probably thinks I’m still asleep, and truth be told, I should let her believe I am.
I fucked her on the floor for Christ’s sake. Not once, but twice.
On top of that, I’m off the damn market, and she has no idea. I’m the biggest type of asshole there is for deceiving her the way I have.
So, I lie there and watch as she gets dressed and when she pulls on her ruined shirt and cinches it closed by tying it at the bottom, I’m unable to resist any longer. I clear my throat and she faces me, that blush I’ve already come to adore creeping in on her cheeks.
I stand up, letting the blanket drop to the floor, and she blushes harder. I smile and walk over to her, my dick standing at attention and anxious to slide between her legs and drive into her again.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but it looks like you’re up already,” she remarks, her eyes playfully glancing down at my junk.
I scoop her up and place her on my desk, positioning myself between her legs and leaning in for a kiss.
“Tell me your name,” she whispers, her voice pleading. “Your real name. The name you won’t share with anyone else.”
“I thought you were good at the guessing game,” I joke, sliding her skirt up her thighs and jerking her to me.
“I may have overexaggerated my skills,” she confesses sheepishly.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I was pretty impressed with your skills.”
I let the tip of my dick slip inside her, coating myself with her wetness. I’ve hardly touched her, and she’s already soaked. Unfortunately, she presses her hand to my chest and pushes me back.
“I can’t. I have to get home.”
I know if I push just a little, I’ll be inside her and all thoughts of her going home will disappear from her mind, but I don’t do that. My cock may be hard as a damn stone, but I don’t do that. She said no, and that’s it. I’m an arrogant asshole, but even I have my limits.
I also don’t tell her how badly I want to see her again. Not because I don’t chase after women, but because it’s fucking impossible. The next few weeks are crazy for me. My schedule is almost unbearable. Sneaking around for an affair isn’t in the cards.
“I understand,” I say. “It was fun.”
My dismissal sounds harsher than I intend it to, and I can see the hurt in her eyes. Fuck, I don’t know how to make this right. Even if I weren’t engaged, I wouldn’t know how to do this the right way.
I’m not built for romance and sweet words. I wasn’t raised to be gentle and caring. I was raised to take the things I want in a ruthless way because no one is going to give them to me. Raised to wreak havoc if necessary, to be unfeeling, uncaring.
So, I give her a kiss, a soft, lingering kiss because I need to taste her one more time before I let her walk out of this room. When I break away from her, I walk over and get my pants, keeping my back to her as I pull them on.
I hear the soft click of my door, and I know she’s gone. The logical side of me tells myself it was the right thing to do. Fucking her on my desk would’ve only prolonged the inevitable.
I’m getting married soon, and I can tell that Frankie isn’t the type of woman who is going to wait around five years for me. She also isn’t the type of woman who will be the other woman. She deserves far more than that. She deserves far more than me.
Still, when I see that she’s scribbled her phone number on a piece of paper and left it on my desk, I can’t bring myself to toss it in the garbage.
Seven
Frankie
I unlock the door to my apartment and ease inside, knowing I’m arriving home quite a bit later than I planned ― like another day later ― due to the impromptu drink invitation. I hear the pitter-patter of footsteps and see my niece, Rory, running down the hall toward me.
“What are you doing up so early?” I ask, picking her up and carrying her back to the room she shares with her sister, Makaila, who is apparently still sleeping.
“I heard that knocking noise coming from mommy and daddy’s room again,” she says, yawning. “I tried to go in, but their door is locked.”
I stifle a laugh. “It’s okay, honey, they’re probably just making up their bed.”
“They’re having sex and it’s gross,” my fourteen-year-old nephew says, standing at his door stifling a yawn.
“Just go back to bed,” I tell Seth and he gives me a dramatic eye roll before going back into his room. “You too, sweetie.”
“I can’t go back to sleep now,” she complains, but I know she will.
“Yes, you can and when you wake up, I’ll have waffles ready.”
I take Rory to her bed and put her down, tucking her back in. I wait for her to ask me what ‘sex’ is, but she doesn’t. She simply snuggles underneath her blanket and closes her eyes. I lean over and kiss her forehead before going back out.
When Claire and I decided to start F&C’s Catering, we pooled together all the money we had in savings and converted our parents’ place into F&C’s headquarters. My parents were a bit miffed about it, but we both know they have no intention of moving back to New York. They love Georgia.
Since I was living in the house before the conversion, I moved into Claire and Kyle’s apartment and have been looking for my own place ever since. If I’m being completely honest, I enjoy living here with them. I love seeing my nieces and nephew on a regular basis, but the privacy aspect is an issue. Try having sex with three young sets of listening ears who may barge in at
any time.
“You’re back…early,” Claire says with a grin, joining me in the kitchen.
She has the post-fucked glow and if it were any other morning, I would be jealous, but I happen to have the post-fucked glow myself this morning.
I give her the rundown of the night, not missing the shocked look on her face when I tell her about my night.
“You had drinks with a handsome stranger?” she asks. “And sex?”
“Yes. Incredible sex.”
“Gosh, I don’t think I have ever had sex with a handsome stranger,” she comments. “I’ll have to put that on my bucket list.”
“I’m sure your husband will love that,” I joke. “Well, I won’t be seeing my handsome stranger again. It was a one-time thing. He told me this morning, and I quote, it was fun. Meh, that was a dismissal if I ever heard one.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, sis. I guess it’s good to know now instead of later.”
That’s the damn truth. My last serious boyfriend wasted four years of my life. At least this one only wasted one night, and I wouldn’t call it a waste, not by any means.
“No worries. I left him my number, and if he calls, he calls. I’m not going to hold my breath waiting. I wasn’t expecting a happily ever after anyway, but he did end my dry spell, which was nice.”
“Nothing like great sex to do that,” she says with a wink.
“Speaking of great sex, you and Kyle should really keep it down. Rory heard that ‘knocking noise’ again.”
My sister blushes and then giggles. “I swear, we can’t win. We wait until they go to sleep at night, and they hear us. We try early morning sex, and they hear us.”
I laugh with her. “According to Seth, it’s gross.”
“Oh my God,” Claire replies. “My son knows about sex.”
“He’s fourteen. There’s no telling what he’s learning at school.”
She visibly shudders. “Kyle is going to have to talk to him. We’ve put it off long enough.”
“He probably knows all he needs to know just from listening to the two of you,” I tease.
“From listening to us what?” Kyle asks, walking into the kitchen.
Me and Claire both burst out laughing.
Eight
Havoc
I step off the elevator and practically grunt a greeting to my assistant, Daysha. I hear the click of her heels as she follows behind me, no doubt bringing me my coffee and messages.
“Mr. Havoc moved today’s board meeting up to noon,” she informs me as she hands me my coffee and puts my messages on my desk. “Would you like for me to order lunch?”
“No,” I snap. She nods curtly and begins to exit my office. “Wait. Order some lunch from F&C’s Catering.”
“Yes, sir.”
I’m well aware that it’s an idiotic move, not to mention irresponsible. Engaging with a woman I can’t have but desperately want will only end in disaster.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since she walked out of my office, though. The way she was so comfortable dropping to the floor to drink Macallan. The way she played that silly name-guessing game. The way she moaned my name as she came. Christ, how damn real she is.
In my line of work, all I seem to encounter are phonies. Everyone is either kissing my ass because they want something from me, or kissing my ass because they’re afraid I’ll take something from them. It’s refreshing to meet someone who isn’t playing the game.
If ordering lunch means I’ll see her once more, I’m willing to make that idiotic move. I’m pretty sure I’m allowed a few of those in my lifetime.
After Daysha informs me the lunch order is placed and what time it should be here, I spend the majority of my morning talking with phonies and emailing phonies when I would rather call Frankie and hear her voice.
My father owns one of the largest investment companies in New York. His business portfolios are impeccable. Businesses are constantly vying for an investment, and we always have our eyes peeled for failing businesses to scoop up at a low price. Why he wanted Liam’s business is still beyond me. We didn’t need to acquire it. It wasn’t failing, and the price Genevieve was asking was top dollar. Regardless, he’s been on the hunt for another business ever since. I’m pretty damn certain he’s looking for something for his new girlfriend to do to stay busy.
“Sir, the catering company is here and ready to set up in the conference room,” Daysha informs me over the intercom.
“Send the owner to my office and I’ll settle the invoice.”
I shift in my seat and await her arrival, fidgeting with my tie. I never fidget. This damn woman has me fidgeting!
“Sir, Mrs. Claire Harris with F&C’s Catering.”
I frown as I rise to my feet. It isn’t her. I don’t believe I have ever felt such disappointment. I suppose I should get used to this feeling. I’m not going to see Frankie again, and I’m marrying a woman I despise as part of a business agreement.
“Your assistant informed me you’ll be settling the bill directly with me,” Claire says. “I don’t mind emailing you an invoice, Mr. Havoc.”
“Whatever you prefer,” I reply.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just take your card and email you the invoice.”
I nod, and then wave my hand at her, letting her know our business is finished and she can go, looking back to my computer. When she doesn’t leave, I glance up, arching my eyebrow at her in question.
“Mr. Havoc, you seemed surprised that I was the one who walked into your office. Were you expecting someone else?”
Her question catches me a little off guard and I wonder how close she and Frankie are. Did Frankie go and brag to her sister about bagging a rich guy? She didn’t seem the type but then again, I hardly know her.
“Is there a reason you’re still standing here?” I ask, my rudeness my armor. “I expect to receive your invoice via email.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Her question is accusatory.
“Excuse me?”
“Frankie was with you last night.” She states it without question and then her eyes narrow. “You’re engaged.”
“I don’t see how that is any of your fucking business.”
“The fact that you’re stringing my sister along in some sort of sick game is my fucking business, Mr. Havoc.”
If she’s worried about losing my business or my reference, she doesn’t show it. She’s sticking up for her sister and I admire that, even if it pisses me off.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair, somewhat annoyed that she did go and brag to her sister about bagging a rich guy. “I’m not stringing Frankie along.”
She snorts a little. “I’m sorry but engaged men do not have drinks with single women. Alone. Oh, and then we know what that led to.”
“We are both consenting adults.”
“Frankie would not have consented had she known you were engaged! Are you telling me you divulged that information? I don’t know you, but I highly doubt that you did. It was just ‘fun,’ after all.”
“You’re right. You don’t know me.”
“Let me take a stab at it. You are the type of man who takes what he wants without caring about the havoc you wreak. See what I did there?” she says with a smirk. “My sister deserves more than some dirty fling. She is no one’s side piece.”
I chuckle, my armor cracking under harsh, but true, accusations. “I can assure you, I’m well aware of the havoc I wreak. And just so we’re clear, I am not looking for a dirty fling or a side piece. As you said, I’m an engaged man.”
“As long as we’re clear on that, I’ll email you the invoice. Enjoy your lunch.” She opens my door and looks over her shoulder, giving me some parting words. “Stay the fuck away from my sister.”
Nine
Frankie
I taste my mixture of mushroom stems, parmesan, cream cheese, parsley, and thyme, and add a touch more salt and pepper before I begin stuffing the mushrooms caps. I sprin
kle parmesan on top when I’ve filled all the caps and place the tray in the oven when I hear the bell on the door chime.
“Will you set a timer for those?” I ask Erin and go to answer the door.
I assume it’s Claire returning from a couple of deliveries. Some business office needed a last-minute lunch provided, and we had another pre-scheduled delivery for a kid’s birthday party. Claire volunteered to drop the lunch off before the birthday party, and it was her turn to make the delivery since I did the engagement party.
We try to evenly divide all the duties between us since we both love to cook, making sure one of us is here to cook. While one of us in the kitchen preparing the food, the other is out on the road making deliveries. We alternate any after-hours events.
“Hello?”
I wipe my hands on my apron and walk out to the front desk. We don’t have a receptionist, but we do have a waiting area where people can view our menu and place orders.
“Sorry, I was in…the back,” I say, my voice trailing when I realize who it is. “Well, hello, Anthony.”
He chuckles a little, shaking his head at me. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“I told you I’m good at this game.”
“I’ve yet to see that,” he says with a smile and I’ll be damned if I don’t get weak in the knees, my core throbbing.
Why in the hell is this perfect specimen here to see me? He’s the type of man us women lose our minds over. The type of man we sit and gossip about because he should only exist in our fantasies ― and for most of us, that’s all he is. A fantasy.
I experienced that fantasy, and I experienced his dismissal. At least that’s what I thought it was, but now, here he is, standing in front of me. I replayed last night through my brain over and over. I memorized our conversation from this morning and toyed with his words, contemplating if they were actually a dismissal. They were.
