Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths)

by Stefanie London

  “Thank you, I moved in a few weeks back.” His hands came to her shoulders, and a shiver raced down her spine. “Would you like a drink?”

  She shook her head, unsure what to do, how to stand, or where the hell to put her hands. God, she was so unused to this. Her fingertips grazed the hem of her dress, mostly because if she didn’t find a way to occupy them she was worried they’d fly back to his chest as they’d done in the car. The soft cotton over hard muscle had done crazy things to her and his kiss…holy hell.

  She didn’t want anything to dull the sensation. “I’m okay.”

  “How about I give you the tour?”

  He held out his hand, and she took it. His grip was warm and reassuring, solid. Stable. He must have seen what a bundle of nerves she was. She cursed herself internally.

  Just relax, everything will be fine. You want this. He wants this. There’s no need to be nervous.

  They walked through the apartment, which was the biggest she’d ever seen, eventually ending up in the master bedroom. Emmaline swallowed. An enormous bed with dark navy blue covers and pillows dominated the space. The view ran the length of the room in a curved shape, making it feel like you were standing right out in the night sky. She raised her fingertips to the glass.

  He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his lips pressing into her neck. “It looks like you can reach out and touch them, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” she murmured.

  She leaned her head to one side, encouraging him to keep kissing her there. Warm breath skated over her skin as he trailed a blazing path up to the sweet spot behind her ear. He pressed against her, the hard length of him fitting directly against her bottom. Arching, she wriggled back and forth, getting rewarded with a stifled moan.

  Hot, pulsing want stabbed through her, making her head feel light and dizzy. His hand ran down to the hem of her dress and drew it up, his fingers slipping between her thighs. His touch was confident, as though he already knew what she liked. A gasp escaped her lips as his hand reached her sex, turning to cup her over her lacy underwear.

  She shifted, widening her stance to allow him to touch her more easily. When he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit, her knees buckled. There was something so languid and decadent about his movements. He wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t following a well-worn pattern like she was used to—this wasn’t paint-by-numbers sex.

  The cool glass of the window was sweet relief for her heated palms, and she caught his reflection, saw the fire in his eyes and determined set of his mouth. Her body sparked as he slipped a finger beneath the elastic of her panties, stroking her. Taking his time to get to know her shape. Her feel.

  “You’re already so wet,” he said, his lips brushing her ear. “I love how turned on you are.”

  He rubbed his erection against her and, in a moment of boldness, she reached behind to touch him. Steely hardness met her fingertips as she ran her hand up and down his length, enjoying the contrast of him against the soft wool of his pants. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel the real him. Needed to feel him naked and hot in her palm.

  When she reached for his fly, he moved her hand away. “I thought we talked about this.”

  She turned and he pressed her up against the window. Lights flashed in her peripherals, and it felt like she was suspended in midair. “What do you mean?”

  “Only nice girls finish last.” When he sank to his knees, her breath stuttered.

  “And you don’t think I’m nice?” She needed to dispel some of the tension, before she spontaneously combusted.

  “I think you deserve to come first.” He pushed her dress up to her waist, and the cool air hit the tops of her thighs. “Beautiful.”

  Oh, God.

  For a moment, he just stared, admiring the lace panties she’d splurged on at La Perla earlier that day. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he drew them down and let out a soft curse as the neat little triangle of blond curls came into sight.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she blurted out, cringing the second the words left her mouth. “I mean, it’s totally up to you.”

  He looked up, a dark brow arched. “I don’t have to do what?”

  Crap, how was she supposed to put it? “Umm…”

  “You can say it.” His darkened eyes were like liquid heat, the blacks of his pupils wide and round. He looked…hungry.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she said, shutting her eyes and hoping that a hole would form in the ground so she could crawl away and die of embarrassment. “You don’t have to, I don’t mind.”

  To his credit, Parker didn’t laugh in her face…or in her lady region, which was currently at his eye level. “Firstly, I don’t feel obligated. I want to do it. It’ll give me a great amount of pleasure.”

  “Really?” She should probably stop talking, but fascination won out.

  Conrad had eschewed oral sex—both giving and receiving—due to his belief that it was dirty. Filthy. He’d gone down on her once, when she’d begged, just so she could see what it felt like. But the whole thing had lasted no more three and a half seconds, which wasn’t long enough for anyone to figure out if they liked something.

  “Yes, really. And secondly, I want you to tell me what you like.” He continued to draw her panties down her legs until they slipped past her ankles. She stepped out of the fabric and nudged it to one side. “That way, I can make sure you’re getting what you want.”

  How did one put into words something they knew nothing about? “I don’t know how to say it.”

  He rubbed his palms up and down the front of her thighs until his hands came to rest at her sex. Goose bumps rippled across her skin as he blew cool air gently over her. “Do you like that?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  His thumbs rubbed over the front of her sex, teasing the tight bundle of nerves there and parting her in a way that was incredibly intimate. “What about this?” He leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss. Electricity galloped through her veins.

  “Yes.”

  “And this?” He ran his tongue between her folds, drawing a line from her entrance to her clit.

  “Yes.” This time the word came out as a moan, and her hand went immediately to his head.

  “You just keep saying that unless I do something you don’t like, okay?”

  That seemed unlikely given his current track record, but she nodded anyway. Her eyes fluttered shut when his lips descended on her, his tongue moving in a way that made her want to cry and shout and laugh all at once. A thought about how she had her bare ass pressed against the glass for the world to see danced in her mind, but one insistent lick washed that concern away.

  “Yes.”

  This was nothing like the times she’d fumbled around in the dark, trying to see if her own hands might bring her any satisfaction. But whereas she’d only managed to get a few weak sparks of enjoyment, he’d created an inferno.

  Pressing one palm against the glass behind her, the other threaded through his hair and grabbed on for dear life. His tongue swirled and darted, lapped and licked and flicked until her thighs quaked. Was this how it was supposed to feel? A pressure built inside her, and it felt like she was charging toward an edge.

  “Yes!”

  When he drew the bud of her clit between his lips and sucked, the air fled her lungs and she was tumbling, falling and crashing down into something wonderful and new and exhilarating. His name flew from her lips over and over as pleasure ripped through her, buckling her knees so they fell against his shoulders while shudders wracked her body.

  Before she knew what was happening, he’d scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Her body melted in his arms, weightless and wrought with release.

  “You stopped saying anything at one point so I just went with my instinct.” His lips curved into a wicked smile.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  He dropped her gently onto the bed. “I am.”

  “Tha
t’s not nice.” She tried to hold a mock expression, but there were far too many endorphins running around her body for her to maintain a frown.

  “I thought we’d established that niceness was overrated.”

  Licking her lips, she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it up over her head. “Good point.”

  “Ditch the bra,” he said as he stood perfectly still—and fully clothed—at the end of the bed.

  She reached behind her back for the clasp, her fingers making quick work of it. Tossing it over the edge of the bed, she leaned forward to remove her shoes.

  “No. Leave them on.”

  The powerful, commanding tone in his voice made her pulse flutter. With him, she wouldn’t need to worry about making the next move. Or about letting her lack of confidence show. Because he was in the driver’s seat. He would lead her. Guide her.

  Aware of how naked she was, she fiddled with her hair and brushed it over one shoulder so that it partially covered her breasts.

  His hands came to his belt and she watched, transfixed, as he stripped down. Everything about him was perfectly defined—from the muscles in his arms and chest to the light trail of hair connecting his belly button to his erection. It jutted forward, long and thick and hard. Her breathing came fast, and she longed to take him between her lips, but her hands stayed fisted in the covers on his bed.

  The mattress sank as he kneeled beside her, his hand cupping her jaw and lifting her face to his. She tasted herself on his lips, kissing him with all the desperation that flowed through her as he eased them back and nudged her legs apart with his thigh.

  “I want to be inside you,” he whispered, his hand running down her body to cup her breast. “I want to feel how wet you are.”

  The weight of his erection was heavy against her leg. It dug into her soft flesh. How would it feel when he buried himself inside?

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  A second later, he’d reached for a condom and rolled it down onto his length. Positioning himself at her entrance, he moved slowly and surely. Giving her time to accommodate him as he eased inside.

  “Christ,” he moaned, his face pressed against her neck. “You’re so tight.”

  A sense of fullness washed over her as he pushed forward, burying himself to the hilt. Then when he moved, her body lit up, sparkling like the lights that danced all around them. He hooked a hand under her knee and lifted her leg over his hip so he could plunge deeper. Eyes shut, she dropped her head back against the mattress and bucked her hips up to his.

  The pressure built again, her muscles clamping down on him as he thrust into her. As if sensing her need, he slipped a hand between them and found her clit with his thumb. Sharp pleasure stabbed through her and she cried out, grinding up against him and taking what she needed.

  “Parker,” she cried. “Oh God, I’m so close. I’m—”

  Her whole body shook as she splintered, clutching him to stop herself from drifting away. A moment later he followed her, driving himself deep and shuddering while his mouth claimed hers once more.

  …

  An obnoxious buzzing thrust Parker into waking. He reached out and slapped at his alarm clock, almost knocking the damn thing off his bedside table. Normally he was the kind of guy to spring out of bed while it was still dark out. But he didn’t usually spend the entire night drowning himself in a beautiful woman.

  “What time is it?” The angel in his arms looked up, her huge blue eyes like slices of heaven.

  “Six thirty.” He brushed his hand over her hair. “Time to get up for work.”

  A confused smile passed over her lips before it was replaced with an O. “Work! Crap, it’s Monday, isn’t it?”

  “All day.”

  “I have an early meeting.” She pushed up, and her breasts bobbed at his eye level.

  He’d spent a good portion of the night worshiping those breasts—licking them, kissing them, sucking them until he’d figured out exactly what she liked, since she wasn’t able to tell him herself.

  “Do they normally make you have meetings before the school day?” He stretched, his muscles achy in a way he hadn’t felt for a while.

  “Uhh…no. Not usually.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “But this is to discuss the…umm, school production.”

  “Struggling with your words this morning?” He leaned forward and claimed her mouth, not wanting her to leave his bed.

  “You seem to have that effect on me.” She traced her fingertip along the edge of his jaw. “I had fun.”

  “Me, too.”

  A strange sensation coiled in his gut. He didn’t want her to go. In fact, every fiber of his being was crying out for him to sweep her off her feet and carry her to the oversize tub in his bathroom. But today was his first day as CEO. Turning up late would not see him starting off on the right foot.

  “I should go.” She kissed him on the tip of the nose before climbing out of his bed.

  “Do you want another shower?”

  Her lip quirked as though she was remembering the one they’d shared sometime around one a.m. The image of him taking her up against the slate tiles made him stir.

  “I would love one, but I don’t have time.” She glanced at the clock, her brows furrowed. “As it is, I’ll have to head straight to work.”

  Giving him an eyeful of her long, creamy legs, she retrieved her underwear and dress from the floor. She shimmed into her bra and slipped the dress over her head, smoothing her hands over the fabric.

  “Do I look like I’ve had a night of incredible sex?”

  He grinned. “Well, your dress isn’t wrinkled, if that’s what you’re worried about. But your eyes tell another story.”

  She held her panties in one hand before folding them up and tucking them into a pocket inside her handbag. “Hopefully no one notices I’m going commando.”

  His cock sprang from half-mast to full attention, tenting the thousand-thread-count sheets. Unable to resist, he reached down between his legs and squeezed himself. “Jesus, Sarah. You’re hotter than a bloody house fire.”

  Her lips tightened. “I try.”

  “I’m going to be thinking about you not wearing any panties all day. You know that, right?”

  She looked around for her shoes and slipped them on. “I hope I don’t distract you too much.”

  “It will if you bend over.”

  Her eyes glinted. “What, like this?”

  She tipped forward at the hips, exaggerating the move so her otherwise modestly-cut dress gathered up around the tops of her thighs. The sight of her sex, all sweet and pink and perfect, sent all his blood south. He fought the urge to stand over her and plunge deep inside her while she stayed bent in half.

  “I really do have to go.” She stood, smoothed her dress back down, and slipped her bag over her shoulder.

  “I’ll have James give you a ride.” He reached for his phone and hit the speed dial for his driver, instructing him to meet her in the reception area of the building.

  Then he got out of bed and went to her, drawing her up in his arms for one last kiss. A voice urged him to make plans to see her again, but that was exactly the opposite of what this was supposed to be. He was a CEO now, and he held the future of his family’s company in his hands. He didn’t take that lightly.

  Distractions—no matter how incredibly sexy—were not his friend right now.

  “Thank you for a wonderful night,” he said. “I’m glad that crazy dog brought us together.”

  “Me, too.” Pink dotted her cheeks, and she pressed herself against him for a moment before stepping back and leaving his room with a quick glance over her shoulder.

  Don’t you dare go after her. Enjoy this feeling and move on.

  He scrolled through his phone to where he’d saved her number. Sarah. It would be wise to delete the contact and throw himself into work mode. No distractions, remember? But as his finger hovered over the screen, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Something told him that he mi
ght want to see her again.

  Chapter Six

  “Did you really need a private elevator?” Parker asked drily as he walked past the reception desk for the executive floor.

  A small kitchen area was tucked against the wall with a gleaming coffee machine, a basket of fresh fruit, and a plate of biscuits set out on a black marble bench. A stylish arrangement of leather chairs sat on the other side of the space with a round coffee table containing a pile of Wentworth’s in-house fashion magazine, Wondrous, and a bouquet of pink flowers in a silver vase.

  “Did you expect me to wait in the foyer with everyone else?” his father asked, his voice as deep and commanding as ever.

  They passed a second set of desks. His head executive assistant, Mercy, had already arrived and was tapping away at her computer. The two other desks were for her assistants, which felt like overkill, but he was reluctant to put anyone else out of a job this week unless absolutely necessary.

  “Do you think you’re too good to mingle with the employees?” Parker shoved the door open to his office. “Perhaps that’s why the staff engagement scores were so low this year.”

  The view stretched out in front like a panorama. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with buttery-soft morning light, and the Yarra River sparkled below them. Neat rows of yachts were moored at the marina, and the bay glimmered off in the distance. He never understood why his father insisted on filling the space with expensive paintings when he had a view that rivaled an artist’s brush.

  “Judge me when you’ve been in my shoes for more than thirty seconds,” his father said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Or are you looking to pick a fight this morning?”

  “I’m not picking a fight.” He gritted his teeth. “Although I did notice that you had me listed as Edward Wentworth on the memo about my start date.”

  “It is your name,” Arthur said.

  “You know no one calls me that.” He paused. “Except you.”

  It wasn’t a mistake that Parker stopped using his legal name around the time he’d left Melbourne. Boston was his fresh start after the shit storm his father created, and he’d listed himself as Parker on all his work documentation—effectively turning his childhood nickname into his real name. But Arthur had always called him Edward.