by Brandi Evans
A frustrated sigh escaped my lips—lips still wet with his precum.
"While the Dom continues to tease you with his cock, another Dom palms your breast while another slaps you hard on the ass."
With his left hand, he squeezed one of my breasts until it teetered on the edge of pain, and then, he slapped my ass, once, twice, three times.
"Sir!" The word sprang from my mouth, breathy and drenched in need.
He slapped my ass yet again, harder than before, and I gasped. Pain and pleasure mingled, and I couldn't keep my legs still. They pumped and flexed as I squirmed on the sawhorse, but when Max began inching my skirt up and over the area he'd just struck, I feared I might go mad.
"Sir," I whimpered.
He yanked my underwear down and spanked me again, this time flesh to flesh.
"Sir. Sir!"
"Maybe one of the Doms drops to his knees behind you and paints your clit with his tongue, lapping at this wet little pussy over and over and over."
Oh, god.
I held my breath as Max acted out his words. While he knelt behind me, he spread my labia apart and kissed my sex, hot, hungry, open-mouth kisses that had me on the edge of climax in no time. My legs gave out, and I collapsed my full weight onto the sawhorse, the flat surface biting into my torso.
"Sir!" With every breath, need boiled me from the inside out. I shook my head as the buildup continued, but milliseconds before I was about to come, Max pushed away.
"You're at their mercy, little sub, sensation after sensation wrapping around you until you're moaning, squirming, begging for that one last push to take you over the edge, and only then, will I come to you and give you that push you so desperately crave."
With one quick thrust, Max was inside me, his cock stretching me, filling me in the familiar way I craved. My breath stalled as I relished the feel of him inside me with no barriers, just his naked cock in my willing pussy.
We'd stopped using condoms several weeks prior, after getting clean blood tests and making sure I'd been on a course of birth control pills long enough.
"Goddamn it, I love your body." His voice had taken on an edginess, as if someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal cords. "We fit together, Bree, in every way. And I'm tired of hiding it from the world."
With that said, he started pounding. Hips never slowing, he leaned forward and crushed his big, hard body against mine. With the added weight, I could barely breathe, but I begged for more of him. At least, I wanted to, but no words escaped my panting breath.
He fisted my breasts in his hands, fitting me that much more securely against him. He kneaded my tits as he fucked me. Hard. Relentless. Kind in a way too, but unyielding like the man himself.
"Bree." His breath was hot against my neck. "Come for me. Do it now. Don't make me wait."
Yes, Sir.
Pleasure erupted through me in undulating waves, every muscle in my body quivering under the onslaught.
On a groan, Max found his own climax. He didn't draw it out. Maybe he couldn't wait any more than I could. Here, in this place, knowing what it meant for us and where our relationship could be heading, was he as overwhelmed as I was?
When, at last, he stilled and my orgasm turned to little more than eddies of sensation, neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. We stayed frozen in this perfect moment we'd created.
I loved watching Max work.
Seated at Whitecliff Internationals' table, prominently positioned as the foremost spot at the event, I sat prim, proper and partially paralyzed as my gaze devoured Max. He stood to the side of the podium, showing off one of his many custom three-piece suits. One day, I might grow immune to the look of him in a suit, but it was not this day.
The material of his suit—as well as the man—looked way too pressed and elegant, especially considering he'd fucked me senseless in that very suit not an hour ago. His tailor must use magic fabric; that was the only explanation. But damn, if Max didn't have the room of designers and investors, and well, me, too, obviously, hanging on his every word. Sure, his sexy British accent gave his words an elevated elegance, but what honestly had me captivated wasn't his magic suit or his accent—it was the man himself.
Maxwell Penn was a god among men, and that god wanted to tell the world he'd chosen me to stand by his side.
His words from the club came back to me. We fit together, Bree, in every way. And I'm tired of hiding it from the world. He was ready to come out, and I was, too. Most of me, anyway, and the part that wasn't ready was obsessed with what ifs.
What if my family's secrets weren't buried as deeply as we'd been led to believe? And what if the newspapers, tabloids, whoever discovered the truth that had almost cost my mother her life all those years ago?
What if they found nothing?
What if they found everything?
What if the truth broke Max's heart?
I needed to come clean with Max. I had to. He deserved the truth. When things calmed down, I'd talk to my mom and give her a head's up. I was gonna tell Max and hope for the best. Until then, it was business as usual. In public, we were nothing more than boss and employee.
Max's speech ended, and he lifted his glass of champagne in a toast. "I've heard it said drinking before noon is irresponsible, that it breaks society's rules, but let me tell you, my friends, the people who say this never make history. Only the bold, the daring…" He grinned. "…only the rule breakers go down as legends. Now, what do you say we go and make some history, eh?"
The room erupted in raucous applause and guests staggered to their feet, me among them. With great effort, I resisted the urge to run straight to Max and throw myself at him.
We fit together, Bree, in every way. And I'm tired of hiding it from the world.
I clenched my leather portfolio against my chest and reminded myself not to stare at Max like some garden-variety stalker. I turned—and found myself looking straight at Théo Roux. His easy smile should have melted my bones; instead, it made me nauseous and nervous.
"What are you still doing here?" I asked, remembering what Max had said.
Théo ignored my question. "Bonjour, ma chère." He stepped in close to me. "Aren't you looking ravishing today?"
Instinctively, I stepped back, a rabbit backing away from a possible predator, and I didn't respond. Instead, I tossed a glance over my shoulder toward Max. My lover was speaking to a man named Trevor Dennison. I'd met Mr. Dennison briefly a couple days earlier. He was middle-aged, of average height and weight, and with the softest dusting of gray at his temples. He was, if memory served, from an up-and-coming investment firm on the west coast.
Max had his back to me, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If he couldn't see Théo, Max wouldn't storm over here and possibly make a scene, but on the other hand, Max wouldn't storm over here, which meant I was on my own.
I returned my gaze to Théo.
"I regret not sharing that drink with you last night," he purred. And, yes, purred was a damn apt way to describe the lilt and fall of his words, every syllable colored by his thick, French accent.
"I'm sure you did. Or should I say, your boss did."
"You wound me, ma chère."
I'm sure. "So, you're telling me that your boss isn't using you in some pathetic attempt to manipulate my business relationship with Mr. Penn or to rattle him or to upset him in some way?"
I examined Théo as I waited for him to respond. I searched his handsome face for any change, any hint my accusations had hit close to home, but I got nothing. Nada. Not only did he look legitimately clueless as to why I'd suggested such a thing, but he also looked insulted. Either he was a damn good actor, or he was honestly just hitting on me. I wasn't sure which I preferred.
"I am a publicist," he continued, "and as such, it is my job to generate media coverage for my client. I will not lie about that. So, yes, learning more about Maxwell Penn's inner mind would be a plus, and as a trusted employee, you would be an ideal candidate to approach.
However, I can assure you, what I want from you is a far cry from a simple business dinner."
"You're good, Mr. Roux. I'll give you that. I almost believe you."
"I am positively hurt, ma chère, and I assure you my attention to you is purely a personal one. Let me buy you dinner tonight, and I'll prove it." He hooked the knuckle of his index finger beneath my chin and tilted my face upward as if he were about to kiss me. "And I vow to show you just how personal my intentions are."
I swallowed hard, frozen to the spot. This wasn't about learning about a business rival or flirting. This, this… I wasn't sure what it was, but the way he looked at me made my skin crawl.
I stumbled backward three—no, five steps. I glanced back at Max; he still had his back to me. I was on my own, but I'd only have to shout one word to assure my safety. It was a word Max would hear no matter what conversation had his attention.
Fishnet.
Fishnet was our personal safe word. Max had suggested it after we'd become lovers. "Special subs," he'd said, "deserve special safe words." I wasn't so sure about how special I was, but if I said it, Max would be at my side in an instant. I knew that as solidly as I knew my heart would continue beating. But I didn't want to bother Max. I could handle asshats like Théo Roux. I just needed a strategy. After all, I'd trained for moments just like this.
I took a weekly jujitsu class, and I had since my late teens. My mother had enrolled me to help me cope with the anxiety my father's trial had created. The things some of the people outside the courthouse had yelled about my father—no, had yelled about me, an innocent child—had terrified me, and that terror had lingered.
I'd suffered recurring nightmares most of my childhood, but taking jujitsu had helped me regain control over my fears. I'd learned to defend myself if any of the disembodied voices from my nightmares had ever made the transition to reality.
"As flattering as that offer is," I lied, "I'm gonna have to pass."
"But why, ma chère?"
"As a member of Mr. Penn's team, my schedule is jam-packed. Especially today, with all our meetings and—"
"Just a drink then." Théo took one of my hands and lifted it to his lips. "Just one little drink. Surely, you have time for that, ma chère."
I resisted the urge to yank my hand from Théo's grip as doing so would only make a scene, and I didn't want to draw unwanted attention to myself.
"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Roux, but I simply cannot. My schedule won't allow for it." Without giving him the chance to say another thing, I turned toward Max, and my feet stalled. Giselle had sidled next to him, smile set to maximum brightness.
Clever girl.
She'd separated Max and me. She'd sent Théo to distract me while she'd pounced on Max. Well, fuck that plan, and fuck her. I knew my lover needed me, so I walked away from Théo while he was mid-sentence, and I didn't look back.
Giselle placed a manicured hand on Max's right biceps, one of the biceps that had held me so frantically at the club. My biceps. If looks could kill, I'm positive Giselle would have disintegrated.
"Oh, Max, darling," I heard her saying when I reached earshot, "about our meeting this afternoon, what do you say we turn it into a working dinner instead? It would give us a chance to talk, just the two of us, and talk is something we most desperately need to do, don't you think? We could eat at Ravenous. I've heard wonderful things about their no-utensils-required meals. It sounds downright delectable, don't you agree?"
Max didn't yank his arm from her touch, which didn't exactly surprise me. When she'd approached him last time, we'd been in the relative privacy of his office suite. Here, he was in view of the world; all eyes were—likely—on him. He had to play it cool, and he did just that.
He gave his apologies to Mr. Dennison, whom Giselle had no doubt rudely interrupted, and Max made a beeline for one of the back exits, Giselle trailing in his wake, and me half a dozen steps behind.
"…the love of god, give it a rest, Giselle," Max was saying when I stepped into the hallway with them. He practically had her pinned against the wall, but he hadn't used physical force. He'd used little more than his larger-than-life personality. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I'm not going to dinner with you. Ever. I've made my feelings about you crystal fucking clear. Ms. Jennings is the only reason I'm even speaking to you. If she didn't like your designs…"
He leaned in close to Giselle and lowered his voice. I couldn't hear whatever he'd said, but judging by the expression morphing Giselle's smile into something dark and twisted, whatever he said wasn't pleasant. I liked to imagine Max's sentence ended with something along the lines of, "I'd have already kicked you out on your ass."
I acted as if I didn't notice her presence and made up a lie on the spot. "Mr. Penn, if you're ready, I've prepared the client prospectuses you asked for. I'm ready to go over them whenever you are."
Okay, it was a half-lie. There were client prospectuses. There was a meeting about them in our near future, but Todd had prepared them, and Todd was going to prep us. I just needed to get Max out of that woman's vile clutches.
"Of course, Ms. Jennings," Max said, never taking his penetrating gaze off Giselle, and when he spoke again, his words weren't for me. "Do not approach me again unless it's business-related. Even then, do so with extreme caution. Do I make myself very clear?"
"But, Max—"
"Do I make myself fucking clear?"
Giselle pulled her shoulders back, and the expression that settled over her face sent a rivulet of anxiety squirming through my gut. "Oh, you make yourself perfectly clear. I just want to make myself clear, as well. I have a riddle, Max darling, I was hoping you could help me answer."
Max seemed to shrink back, and against all laws of physics, Giselle suddenly seemed to loom over him. I'd say he looked broken, but people didn't break Maxwell Penn. Something was terribly wrong, but I didn't know how to fix it. Hell, I didn't even know what was going on.
"Someone has gone missing," Giselle continued, "and I was hoping you'd know where I might find her before something terrible happens to her."
Her words made no sense to me, but given Max's sharp breath, they meant something to him. His shoulders went so taut that the stiffness was visible through the layers of his suit. And his face, oh god, his face. Lips set in a thin line, he looked as if he were terrified to his core.
When he spoke again, his voice was unfamiliar, not quite angry but not quite fearful, either. "Choose your next words very carefully, Giselle, or I swear to god, they will be your last."
But Giselle didn't speak, at least not loud enough for me to hear. She leaned close to Max and whispered something that made his jaw work, little pulses flashing near the joint.
When I was seconds away from tackling Giselle, Max turned on his heel, took me by the elbow and hurried us down the hall as fast as humanly possible without sprinting.
I glared back at Giselle. The smile curling her lips left me chilled. Whatever she'd said to Max, his reaction made her extremely happy. She was a fucking snake in stilettos, and I was done letting her get to the man I loved.
When we reached the outside corridor to Max's temporary office, Todd pushed to his feet and held out a stack of messages, but before he got a single word out, Max held up a hand.
"Not now." Max released my arm and reached for his office door. "Ms. Jennings and I are not to be disturbed until further notice."
"Yes, sir. Of course." Todd glanced my way, his concern for his boss palpable.
I shook my head and kept my words low. "Have hotel security find Giselle Dubois and Théo Roux and have them escorted off the premises immediately. If they show back up, call the police and have them arrested for trespassing."
"Yes, ma'am."
Without a single word of argument, without telling me I didn't have the authority to have someone escorted off the premises, Todd reached for the phone on his desk. This was the moment I knew Todd had deduced the true nature of my and Max's relationship. He wasn'
t following the order of one of Max's many employees; he was following the order of Max's lover.
I joined Max in his office, pulled the door closed, hit the lock button, and frosted all the windows. Although I wanted to run to him, I stayed where I was. He needed a moment to pull himself together. I'd learned long before we'd become a couple not to mess with Mr. Penn when he was upset, and he was as upset as I'd ever seen him. Hands pressed flat to his desk, head forward, body rigid, he was a black storm cloud, a man on the verge of being consumed by emotions more turbulent than he could handle. His feelings were on the brink of devouring him whole. He might be trying to rein them back in, but he was losing. Whatever Giselle had said, it had rattled him.
What did she say to you?
But I knew better than to ask. If he was hard to wring information out of on a good day, then this was a battle already lost. I'd get nothing out of him until he burned off whatever dark emotions were wreaking havoc on his mind. Given enough time, I had no doubt he'd be able to accomplish the task, but I couldn't just sit by helplessly and wait for him to regain control, not when he was hurting this much.
I went to him, pried one of his hands from the desk and brought it to my breast. He didn't resist, but his muscles were hard and unyielding. I pressed the palm of my other hand to his cheek. I didn't try to force him to turn to me; I just wanted him to feel the connection palpable between us.
"Max," I whispered.
His eyes clenched tighter, and I had no doubt he knew what I was offering him.
Myself.
Completely and willingly.
"I won't be gentle," he warned.
Despite everything, I smiled. He was about to be eaten alive by his emotions, but he still offered me a warning, a way out. It was sweet, but I knew what I was getting into. I knew what he needed, and I wanted to give it to him.
"Kiss me, Max," I whispered. "And don't stop until you feel like you're in control again."
