Domenic and I sit together in silence for long moments.
I manage to wrangle my raging hormones and just revel in the comfort and familiarity of hanging out with an old friend. On a night like tonight, when I’m sad and vulnerable, a simple, uncomplicated connection like the one that Domenic and I share is priceless.
My mind drifts back to when we were kids, growing up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Our fathers ran in the same circles – up and coming business professionals taking Manhattan by storm. Their father worked as an investment banker and my dad was building his legal practice. Frankie and I bonded over our love for ballet when we were still snotty-nosed tots.
At first, Domenic always seemed really annoyed by his little brother and me. We were constantly jumping around on Frankie’s bed, singing into our hairbrushes pretending to be the Spice Girls or giggling at all hours of the night, covered in acne treatment, during our weekly sleepovers.
As we grew older, Domenic came to tolerate us. He’s only two years older than me so we ended up having a lot of friends in common. In our late teens, we began hanging out. He never looked at me with interest of any kind – I saw the types of girls he brought home; sculpted bodies, olive skin, exotic features. His taste in females hasn’t evolved that much over the years. And I was always the flat-chested, bookworm/wannabe ballerina who hung out with his annoying little brother. Still, I always knew I could depend on him to protect me when my older brothers weren’t around.
I remember one time when I was in 9th grade, Domenic walked in on my group of friends playing spin the bottle. I will never forget the way he pulled me back – by my ponytail – just as my crush, Cohen Thompson, was about to give me my first kiss. I guess Domenic was trying to preserve my innocence or something. It wasn’t funny then. But it makes me chuckle now. Domenic’s always been there for me. He’d drop anything to help me. He is the definition of a true friend.
I sigh deeply and look up into his face. “You’re like a brother to me, Dom.”
He winces at me. “Please don’t ever say that.”
I laugh. “Why?”
“Because your brothers are douchebags.”
Chapter 3
I balance my coffee tray and the small brown pastry bag against my hip as I press the elevator button for the 7th floor. It’s barely 8:15 a.m. and I’m already at work.
I glance into the mirror on the elevator panel, adjusting the lapel of my grey custom-tailored suit jacket and ensuring that my peach chiffon blouse is neatly tucked into my slim-fitting, knee-length pencil skirt. I smooth over my flawless chignon with my palm and blot away a lipstick smudge with the tip of my finger. My impeccable reflection reveals none of the turmoil that I lived through last night. And that’s exactly how it needs to be. I can’t be falling apart in the halls or break down in tears over the fax machine. I need my game face right now.
I’m Madision Moretti – the boss’s daughter and it’s my duty to act the part.
The elevator doors open and I pause in the vestibule for just a moment to take in the sign. In big, bold silver-plated letters posted on the dark oak paneling.
Cartwright Moretti Stevenson.
The law firm my father has dedicated his life to building.
My father has been in the trenches for the past thirty years, putting in the work to turn this firm into what it is today. With around 40 lawyers here at our New York office, we’re not the biggest dog in town but we’re good. Very good. And under my father’s stewardship, we’ve expanded into Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago, Houston and Tokyo as well.
Yes – some would argue that my siblings and I suffered during our childhood as a result of my father’s manic work schedule. Yes, we did spend an unnatural amount of time with our nannies – because my mother has a jam-packed social calendar, of course – but my siblings and I have all turned out all right…so far.
At only 31, Michael is the managing partner of our Los Angeles office. Matt is 29 and works in the real estate department here at our New York office. My younger sister, MacKenzie, is off to college this fall. She’s convinced that she wants to be a professional ballerina, but we still have a few years to get her on the track to being a lawyer, so I’m not too worried. As for me, starting my summer internship here at my father’s firm nearly six weeks ago was one of the proudest moments of my life.
I poke my head into the open door at the end of the hall and see my dad sitting at his large, imposing mahogany desk. His favorite solid-gold pencil in hand, he scribbles feverishly in the margins of the thick document on his desk. He looks intelligent and professional and impressive in his signature three-piece designer pinstripe suit. Dashes of white have started to appear in his neatly-cut dark hair and the tight lines on his forehead denote the intensity of the concentration that he’s devoted to whatever it is that he’s working on so early in the morning.
I tap lightly on his door. “Good morning, daddy.”
He looks up at me and his eyes light up. “Good morning, Madison.” He waves his hand in the air gesturing for me to enter. “Come. Sit.” I push the door shut behind me and make my way to one of the dark leather armchairs in front of his desk.
“Did you have breakfast this morning? I got you a scone,” I say sliding the small brown paper bag and one of the coffees across the desk to him.
“Your mother would throw a fit if she saw me eating this,” he says breaking off a tiny piece of the pastry and sliding the bag back to me. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he savors the cranberry scone.
“Cholesterol still high?” I ask. I’m concerned about him. He works so hard and really doesn’t take the time to care for his health. He’s your typical Italian brick wall, health-wise, but I still worry.
“I’m working on lowering the cholesterol,” he says nonchalantly adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“I really need to stop sneaking treats to you. And you need to come jogging with me,” I demand.
“Oh, nonsense. I feel as healthy as ever. No need to disturb up my routine,” he says waving me off before taking a sip of his coffee. “So, how are things going with you, Madison? How are you liking your summer internship?” He’s eager to change the subject every time his health or his workaholic tendencies are the topic of discussion. I take the bait this time because, in fact, my internship is exactly what I wanted to talk to my father about this morning.
I started work at the law firm in May and I had high expectations for my internship. I had expected to get hands-on experience and work on real cases, but so far I’ve been handed grunt-work like any regular intern. I have other plans, however. I am, after all, the boss’ daughter. There have to be perks associated with that.
“Well, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about, daddy. I haven’t worked on anything meaningful since I’ve been here. And I was hoping that maybe you could help me get involved in something more substantive than document review.”
“Madison, we’ve been over this. You know that all interns at this firm have to pay their dues regardless of who their father is.”
“Well actually, that’s not true. Because from what I heard, one of the interns is working one on one with Spencer Harrison.” Spencer Harrison is the founder and CEO of DisSpence Development Group, one of the firm’s largest clients. I should have gotten that case. Not Amber Roberts.
“That’s a special circumstance. Ms. Roberts is fully fluent in French. Spoken and written. We require that particular skillset in the file. That’s why she’s been assigned to Mr. Harrison’s case.”
“Well daddy, I’d like to find myself in one of those special circumstances that require the use of my special skillsets. I mean, I’m your daughter. Everybody I know who works at their parents’ companies enjoys the perks of being the boss’s kid. Why can’t you do the same for me?” I’m pouting now but I don’t care.
“Madison, I love you very much and I really hate to be harsh with you, but quite frankly, you are not here working at this law firm b
ecause you are my daughter.” His expression is stern and unyielding. “You are here because you have excellent grades and you have proven that you are a hard worker. You should take pride in that. And you should also note that, the moment any of that changes, I will not hesitate to have you let go from the firm just like any other intern who falls into delinquency. You’ve gotten one foot inside the door, now you have to climb your way up the ranks like everybody else.” His eyes are narrow slits now. “It was through hard work, Madison. I rose to where I am through hard work. Not through favors or connections. The fact that your father’s name is on the door does not entitle you to special treatment. The fact that your father’s name is on the door means that you have to work harder than everyone else to prove that you deserve to be here and that you didn’t just ride in on my coattails.”
“But daddy–“
”Madison, I don’t have time for your whining right now. I have work to do.” He turns his attention back to the documents on his desk.
The message is clear – this discussion is closed.
With that, I push up to my feet fighting back the tears threatening to rivet down my face. I stomp out of my father’s office, the sound of my anger echoing through the room as my quick steps clatter across the highly polished wooden floor.
Chapter 1
Take me back to your place.
That’s what I’m thinking as I glide my tongue against his and he slips his hand under the hem of my too short, too tight faux-leather mini dress.
I don’t care that we’re at a jam-packed Times Square nightclub, surrounded by hundreds of drunk, sweaty strangers. I don’t care that all my coworkers will be gossiping about how “easy” I am when we get to work at the law firm on Monday morning.
I just want him to take me home.
I don’t usually throw myself all over men I’ve just met…but it’s my birthday. And a night of passion with a smoldering hot man like this gorgeous stranger is exactly what I had in mind when I dragged my friends here to Club JUMP! tonight. Besides, it’s been seven months since I’ve had a man in my bed!
Seven whole months!
So, right now, all I want is to find myself moaning and panting underneath the heavenly specimen whose body is pressed up against mine.
I’d love to say that our eyes had met from across the crowded room and that he had found his way to me by the sheer pull of the feral energy between us. But the truth is, I saw him and I wanted him so…I went and got him.
I spotted him nearly 20 minutes ago. He was leaning over the banister in the VIP lounge, looking down at the crowd below. Within half a second of seeing him, I knew that he would be the perfect birthday present for me. His chiseled bone structure and bad boy ponytail made him dangerously handsome while his deep dimples added an odd softness to his face. But it was his eyes – those piercing blue, mysterious eyes – that told me he’d be an animal in bed.
I need that tonight.
When I noticed a group of girls hovering near him, trying to build up the courage to make a move, I took a nerve-steeling shot of tequila and approached him. “You waiting for your girlfriend?”
He spun around and watched me, his gorgeous eyes meandered lazily up and down my tight body as a virile smile spread across his handsome face. “I was waiting for my brother, actually…but now that you’re here…” My pulse thumped along with the loud music vibrating throughout the club as he put his hand on the small of my back and leaned in closer to whisper in my ear.
He told me he was only in town for a few days to help his dad with some “business stuff.” I told him that I didn’t need the details because I just wanted to dance. He laughed a rough, throaty laugh that caused me to tingle all over and took my hand, leading me to the dance floor. My coworkers, Hailey and Nadia, looked on in awe as I grinded shamelessly all over this handsome stranger. And he couldn’t resist me.
Before I knew it, we were here, sprawled off on this dark suede couch in the VIP lounge, touching and kissing all over each other. And now, all I want is to feel him inside of me.
“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he announces confidently, his lips hovering near mine. The rough timbre of his voice vibrates to my very core and I clench so hard that my eyes instinctively flutter shut.
“Yes.” That’s all I can say. His fingers dance lazily across my exposed collarbone and I shudder, craving him so bad. “I want you to fuck me,” I whine as I circle my hips against the couch. It’s taking all of my self-control not to climb into his lap and hump him senseless right this minute.
“God, you’re sexy.” He nibbles on my chin before kissing a trail down my neck. I’m hot and breathless and the warmth of his breath on my neck has me feeling somewhat light-headed. “That accent – Argentinian? Peruvian?”
Usually, I become self-conscious when people comment on my accent. I’ve spent the past several years trying to suppress it just so I can fit in. But tonight, I’m too horny to protest. “Brazilian,” I moan against his ear.
“You’re a model, aren’t you?” he asks, inching away slightly to evaluate my face.
Model.
I cringe every time I hear the word. I glance over at my “model” friend, Teresa, on a tabletop nearby, kite-high on coke and grinding all over, Luke, this scrawny guy that I work with.
Model?
That’s one of the things I never want to be called again.
“I’m a lawyer.”
It’s sort of true. I’m only a few months away from finishing law school and taking the New York bar exam. Plus, ‘lawyer’ is a title that I like much better than ‘model’. I don’t need to go into details with this beautiful random. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again after tonight.
“Too much talking; not enough touching,” I whine as I slip my hand under the hem of his shirt. Jeeze – his torso is even more muscular than I thought it would be.
With that, he moans in a low, gravely pitch just as his fingers plunge into my long, blonde waves. He tugs gently as his mouth conquers mine again in a passionate, eager kiss. I get lost in the softness of his lips, the urgency in his touch, the rawness of his lust.
Flushed and breathless, I pull away and push to my feet, wobbling in my four-inch pumps. “I can’t take this anymore. We’re going to my place. Right now.”
His lips turn up into the most delicious smile I’ve ever seen. “Tonight is going to be a very good night.”
I grab him by the hand and lead the way to the door. Glancing back at him, I toss a wink over my shoulder. “You have no idea.”
Chapter 2
I put it in my mouth.
The moment he slid his boxers down his long, muscular legs, I had dropped to my knees on the rug and took his warm, throbbing cock between my lips.
And he thrust into my mouth again and again as he leaned against the wall near the open window in my tiny bedroom. His erection was so thick and long that my eyes burned as it strained against the back of my throat. And when he shot ropes and ropes of cum onto my tongue, I swallowed every drop without complaint.
I couldn’t help myself.
I’m no angel – I’ve had a few one-night stands. But I’ve never gone down on a stranger before. Never have I shared myself in this way with a guy I’ve just met. There’s just something about this man and his beautiful cock – I just couldn’t help myself.
So now, it’s only fair that he return the favor.
I’m spread eagle on my bed, holding the wooden bars of the worn bedhead with white-knuckled force as he pulls my aching clit between his teeth. “Jeeeeeezzzzeee,” is the only word that escapes my lips as the curtains flutter softly in the light summer breeze.
“You like that?” he growls in a taunting voice and when I moan in approval, he rewards me by dragging his teeth along my sensitive flesh yet again.
In the dark room, I can barely see a thing. All I can do is feel.
Feel the warmth of his breath against my thighs.
Feel the tingle of arousal racing across m
y damp skin.
Feel the crushing need for release that’s building up at the very core of me.
He pushes my legs further apart and my muscles burn with strain. But the sensation of his tongue racing back and forth along my pearl is enough to dull the discomfort.
“You’ve got the sweetest fucking pussy,” he mumbles between laps as my untamed desire gushes out onto his tongue. “The sweetest.”
“Lick it! Lick it!”
I squeeze on the bars of the bed and scream without regard for the fact that it’s already 3:30 in the morning and my neighbors probably don’t appreciate the disturbance. I don’t mean to be inconsiderate but my body has never felt so utterly…ignited.
The orgasm rolls over me in wave after wave and the man who provoked this reaction places wet kisses along the insides of my thighs. I push my cheek into the pillow, trying to temper the intensity of what I feel.
Matteo Page 19
