by Bay, Louise
“Just tonight. This is Vegas. We start with a fresh slate tomorrow morning. No fucking after tonight.”
“Vegas? Just for tonight?” I stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Wondering if I wanted him to be. Yes. Tonight would be my last with Max King. Working on this account and showing my father what he had been missing wasn’t worth risking. Not even for the King of Wall Street.
He smoothed a hand over my pussy, then pushed his fingers into my folds. “Just tonight,” he whispered.
I lost strength in my knees and stumbled.
“See what a single touch does to you? See the power I have over your body?” He removed his fingers and disappointment caught my breath. I didn’t have to answer. “You came here to get fucked, and I’m not going to disappoint you.” He bent and lifted me over his shoulder.
“I came to tell you I’d work on the account!” I yelled at his back as I kicked my legs.
“You came to get fucked.”
Well, maybe he was right about that. Except sober I’d never have risked colliding with one of his other lovers.
“Vegas,” he muttered again. “Just for one more night.”
He tipped me onto his bed, my ass bouncing on the mattress, and he grabbed my leg and pulled me toward him. “If I only get to have you for one more night, I need a memory of that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”
I sat up, my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and he stepped between my legs, cupping my head in his hand.
“You can’t just demand a blow job.”
He raised one eyebrow as if to disagree.
I shook my head and pulled down the sides of his pajamas until they hit his ankles. His cock sprang out, hard and thick.
“It seems to be working.”
I wanted to have him in my mouth, could feel myself grow wet between my thighs at the thought of his cock between my lips. But I’d clearly made it too easy for him, and I couldn’t have that.
I leaned back onto the mattress, opening my legs so my skirt bunched around my hips, then reached into my underwear. Wanting him in no doubt as to what I was doing, I hitched one leg up onto the bed to improve his view and pushed my hands deeper, finding my opening.
“Really?” he asked as he fisted his cock, dragging his hand upward.
“Ask me nicely.”
He chuckled, shook his head, and let go of his erection. His energy shifted and he leaned over, stripping me of my clothes. First my skirt, then my panties. Next he fiddled with the buttons of my blouse. He glanced at me, and it was my time to raise my eyebrow at him. “Finding that difficult?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes off me, he ripped my shirt apart. Fuck, that was silk and I’d only worn it three times. “You asshole!”
“Whatever,” he replied, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra. “If I only have tonight, I need to see these,” he said, staring at my chest as he palmed my skin and pulled at my nipples. My back arched into his touch. He was so forceful, so single-minded about sex—just as he was about everything else. To have that focus concentrated on my body was almost too much to bear.
His hands left my breasts and he dragged his palm down across my stomach until his fingers found my clit. I groaned as his thumb circled and pressed, pulling out my pleasure, inch by inch. His fingers stroked at my folds, and I threw my hands over my head, needing him to send me over the edge.
“Max,” I whispered, opening my legs wider, inviting more of him.
“You’re desperate for me. My hand is covered in you.”
I groaned at his dirty mouth. But he was right. I was desperate for him.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I opened my eyes. He wore the same look when he was concentrating at work—as if nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.
He stilled and removed his hand, standing up straight. “I want my cock in your mouth. Please.” His voice was thick with lust.
He’d been getting me worked up to get his dick sucked? He played dirty.
“Now,” he added.
I paused while I thought about my next move. Was I going to give in to him? The thing was, it wasn’t giving in if it was what I wanted. And I did want to have him in my mouth, to make him feel even half of what he made me feel.
I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Opening my thighs, I tapped the mattress just in front of my pussy. I cocked my head. “You trust me not to bite?”
He chuckled. “Nope. But that just adds to the fun.”
I trailed my nails up his outer thigh, and he tipped his head back on a muffled gasp.
His cock was thick and stood to attention against his stomach. I flickered my gaze from his erection to his eyes, wondering how I was going to handle him. He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, and I gave him a small smile as I leaned forward, the flat of my tongue connecting with the base of his dick. I dragged it up his shaft.
“Jesus,” he called out.
I swirled my tongue around his head and took just the tip of him in my mouth. I wouldn’t be able to take him deep—he was too big. I circled my hand around his base, gripping him tight. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a moan from the memory of him inside me, filling me. My nipples pebbled, and he must have been watching because he caught them between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed and pulled, setting off sharp circuits of pleasure from my breasts to my belly button and then lower to my clit.
I took him deeper, my jaw as wide as it would go.
“Yes, like that. That’s how I’ve imagined you.”
I circled again, then took him deeper this time. He groaned, whispering about my mouth and my tongue. His fingers threaded into my hair. Not pushing, not directing, it was as if he just wanted to touch me, to be further connected to me. I pulled back, allowing my teeth to graze his shaft just slightly.
“You’re wicked,” he growled and I pumped his cock with both hands while sucking on his crown. “But it’s not enough.” He lifted my chin and I released my hands. I was more than certain I was giving him a great blow job. What was his problem?
“Open your legs,” he said. Reaching across to his nightstand, he grabbed a condom, sheathing his cock in seconds. “Wider,” he barked, pushing apart my thighs. “I’m going so deep, you’re going to forget what day of the week it is.”
Before I had a chance to argue, he pushed into me. The sheer force of his body, his cock, stole my breath, despite being ready for him and wet with longing. I looked into his eyes, wanting him to understand it was almost too much.
“You’re okay, Harper. I have you.”
At just the right time, he knew how to be gentle.
“Relax and feel me.” I couldn’t do anything else. It was as if I’d lost the fight. My body went limp and I took a deep breath. He circled his hands around my waist and pulled me onto him as he thrust his hips forward. If this was Vegas, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave.
Smoothing my hands up his arms, I tugged gently at his biceps. I wanted him over me, touching me, his body pressed against mine. I didn’t have to say a word. Disconnecting from me for just a second, he reached under me, pulled me farther up the bed, then braced his body over me and drove back in deep.
Ordinarily, I liked to be on top, to control the rhythm so I could ensure things were just right, but Max left no room for that. Somehow, I didn’t need it. Things were more than right. I didn’t have space to think; it was all feeling, all sensation. “Oh God, Max,” I screamed.
“Again.” He pushed in deeper still. “Scream my name again.”
It was as if he had his finger on a button deep inside me and kept pressing until everything was at capacity and I exploded. “Max, Max. Oh Jesus, Max.”
The bed tilted and the room lit up in pinks and blues as he pushed into me three more times, my name echoing around the room.
Vegas was my new favorite place in America.
Chapter Eight
Max
I press
ed my thumbs hard against the wood, ensuring the tape on the back of my sign stuck to the meeting room door.
“War room?” Donna asked, standing with her arms folded in front of Harper. They were both staring at my sign. I resisted the smile that threated the corners of my mouth as I fixated on Harper’s reddened lips and the blush in her cheeks. God she was such a distraction. Perhaps inviting her to work on this pitch wasn’t such a good idea after all. I would just have to control myself—she would be a useful resource.
I turned back to the door. “Yes, this is war. We need to get ready.”
“Okay.” Donna handed me a coffee, leaving me with Harper.
“First thing we need to do is information gather,” I said. Harper nodded. Last night had been Vegas. Walking away from anything personal between us was the right thing to do, but it took every drop of self-control I had not to reach out and touch her. “Jim, Marvin,” I yelled. I needed to distract myself, find the off switch in my body that would turn off the desire to kiss her, touch her, own her.
Jim and Marvin dutifully left their desks and strode toward us. “Donna.”
“I’m here,” Donna said from behind me, almost making me jump.
“Stop creeping up on me.”
She rolled her eyes and took the tray of water and fruit she was holding past me straight into the meeting room. Or war room.
The team took their seats and I shrugged off my jacket, placing it on the back of the chair.
“We have less than three weeks. You guys know how much working with JD Stanley would mean to King & Associates, and to me personally. Now that we finally have our shot, we’re going to throw everything at it.” I didn’t want to raise expectations. I knew our chances of landing this account were slim to none. We could be being brought in just because I’d been making a nuisance of myself. We might get told to back off. Or JD Stanley could just be using it as an opportunity to gather additional information—key geopolitical insights—without giving anything away, without hiring us. And of course, there was the possibility Harper’s father wanted an opportunity to play games, get his daughter’s attention. Who knew?
All I cared about was we were being given an opportunity. I was going to make the most out of it. Whatever Jayne’s intentions were, I was going to make it difficult if not impossible to say no to me.
“We need to divide our time carefully. First we work out what we know about JD Stanley, Jayne, and the other executives in the business. I want to know everything from what they fed their dogs for breakfast to their mistresses middle names.” I shot a glance at Harper. That had been insensitive. Fuck. But this was war and we weren’t in Vegas anymore. I wasn’t used to having to second-guess what I said at work because I had a single focus and I had to keep that and pretend Harper was just another employee.
Her face was blank, which was a relief. “Then we look at their trading history. I want to understand what they react to, why they invest where they do, why they prefer certain products over others. Look for patterns.”
Marvin stuck his hand up. “I’ve started some of the stuff on their investment history and product preference. Just in my spare time. I knew we’d have this moment at some point.” Marvin’s capacity for research and modelling was the best I’d ever seen, and it didn’t surprise me he had a jump start. He was a hard worker.
“Good. Jim and Harper, you work together on the more personal stuff. Use the agency if you need to.” I’d gotten Harper’s okay to tell the team about her personal connection, but I wanted to make sure I told them in a way that they understood she was here for her skills. It was obviously a sensitive issue for her. But unless it came up, I wasn’t going to raise it.
“I may have some useful insights about their investment decisions,” Harper said. She reached down to her laptop case and brought out a thick folio, placing it on the desk in front of her. “But I’ve also been tracking their investments for the last five years and noticed some interesting choices. I’d be happy to share these.”
Jesus, it looked as if she’d skipped business school and dedicated the last five years to researching JD Stanley.
“I’d like to work with Marvin on that, too, if that’s okay?”
“Marvin, work with Harper,” I said.
Marvin was practically salivating at the sight of her papers. “Sure,” he said, blushing when she smiled at him. I knew the feeling. There was something unaffected in her approach in the office that was totally disarming. She didn’t have the hard veneer of so many of New York’s Wall Street workers. Focus.
“Let’s meet at seven thirty each morning to update the team. I want us to start thinking propositions, looking for angles. This isn’t research for research’s sake. We don’t want analysis paralysis here.” Heads nodded around the table.
“We also need to determine our method of presentation. Do we do PowerPoint? Is it likely to be in an auditorium or boardroom? Talk to your contacts. We need more information than we have, people.”
“You should request a preliminary lunch meeting,” Harper said, looking directly at me. “Call his assistant personally. Tell her you want to take him to La Grenouille. It’s his favorite.”
The memory of the smooth skin of her breasts under my hands paralyzed my tongue for a second, and I had to look away before I could answer. “You don’t think that’s too pushy?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t understand the concept of too pushy. He’ll be testing your mettle. He didn’t give you much information about your meeting, right?”
“Nothing,” I replied.
“He’s trying to send you on a wild-goose chase. Don’t waste time. Take control. Ask him what he wants.”
I nodded. Of course, she was right. “Donna, put some time in my calendar for me to do that.” Harper looked glum, but I was grateful for her insight, despite the fact I hated the restaurant she’d suggested. I’d never been because it seemed so stuffy.
“And then in terms of who’s presenting, that will be me and Harper. We’ll need plenty of time to rehearse.”
I glanced at Harper. Her eyes were wide, as if she hadn’t expected me to take her. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked. “Of course I want to, but—I’ve never pitched before.”
I took a deep breath and tapped my fingers on the back of the chairs. She could be useful, like a carrot we could dangle in front of Charles Jayne. “Donna, what pitches do we have coming up?”
“We have the Asia-Pac for Goldman’s,” she said. “A week from Wednesday.”
“Good. Harper, get read into that. You can be my second chair in that meeting. Give you some experience. I can make a final decision after that.”
“Goldman Sachs?” she asked.
“Yes. They’re looking for someone to help them with a project in Asia.”
“Okay.” The slight quiver in her voice was the only thing betraying her lack of confidence. I doubt anyone else noticed. “I’ll speak to—”
“Jean,” Donna interrupted. “She’ll get you read in.”
“Good. I’m looking for your best work everyone. We’re going to nail this.” I smacked my fist on the table. “See you here tomorrow morning at seven thirty.”
Silently, people filed out of the room and I crossed my arms. Working with Harper would hopefully help my brain redefine her as a colleague, rather than someone I wanted to fuck—someone from whom it was my job to extract their best work. I needed those barriers between my worlds repaired and restored. Leaving Vegas Harper as part of my history with women would be the first step toward maintaining my distance.
First meeting down.
It would get easier to stop focusing on her neck, her legs, her ass, right? My dick would stop twitching at the thought of her hands spread against the glass of my office door while I fucked her from behind. Soon I’d no longer worry if her frown hid something I could ease or resolve. We were all business and that worked. It would have to.
* * *
Beginning the prep for the JD
Stanley pitch had fired up the competitor in me, but the evening with my daughter and sister put things back into perspective.
“You can’t just ban me from wearing makeup,” Amanda whined as she twisted on the stool in front of the counter. Scarlett had brought Amanda to town so the three of us could spend Saturday shopping for Amanda’s dress. Hopefully it would be the last shopping trip for this dance, and Scarlett would back me up on the whole age-appropriate thing.
“I’m sure he’s not saying no makeup at all,” Scarlett said.
I ignored them both and continued to stir the spaghetti sauce. The Manhattan apartment had been something of a sanctuary to me over the years—everything was how I wanted it. My place in Connecticut was always overrun with my parents, Pandora’s parents, my sisters, and various friends of Amanda’s. I had no complaints. I loved that side of my life, but it was all the sweeter because I got to escape it every week and come to my quiet, modern New York apartment where I got to watch the game uninterrupted and fuck one of the women who seemed to drift in and out of my life.
“Are you saying that I can’t wear any makeup, Dad?”
“Of course he’s not.” Scarlett interrupted again and I took another opportunity to stay quiet. The less I said, the less of a chance there was to have an argument.
I loved my daughter and my sister, and it wasn’t as if there wasn’t room for everyone here in Manhattan. But it did mean I didn’t have any mental space—a beat after my working day. The edges of my separated worlds were softening, growing fuzzy.
Everything was changing.
“I’ll speak to your mother,” I said, grabbing the oregano from the counter.
“We’re not having pasta, are we?” Scarlett asked.
“You just watched me make the sauce.”
“I wasn’t watching. I was talking. You know I’m not eating wheat at the moment.”
I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, then looked at Scarlett. “Why would I know that you’re not eating wheat?”
“Because I’ve been whining about it non-stop for the last month.”
