Controlled Chaos

by Christina C Jones

  It was endearing as fuck.

  And really, it was why my review hadn’t gotten as callous as it could’ve – I was not a fan of the polished perfection vibe, but I understood the vision, understood that Andre and his brothers were just trying to carve out their own path, and I didn’t want to shit on their efforts.

  That wasn’t my style.

  And… maybe that had made me a little more attracted to him than the photoshoot had.

  And now, knowing how much dick he was carrying around, knowing how talented he was with his mouth… I could literally feel the inappropriate crush developing.

  Yeah.

  It was time to fess up to my friends, so I could talk this shit out.

  I didn’t make it down the hall though.

  Before I could, Cameron, head editor and owner of Sugar & Spice stepped through the main doors of the office, accompanied by…

  Andre.

  She was talking to him, so his attention was mostly on her, but then… I must’ve caught his eye.

  “Ah,” Cameron called. “Drew, I was just thinking about you – kinda hoping we didn’t run into you,” she laughed, leading Andre over to where I was frozen. “This is Andre Clarke, from 81st and Clarke,” she explained, of course not knowing it was an unnecessary introduction. “Don’t worry though – he’s assured me he didn’t take that review of yours personal.”

  The hell he didn’t.

  Andre extended his hand, and I accepted his firm shake, trying not to remember how those big hands had felt gripping my ass. “Ms. Dawson. I have to admit, I’m a little taken aback by such shrewd remarks coming from such a lovely mouth.” He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it like we weren’t right in front of my boss. “I’m curious about what other talents it holds.”

  “Dre,” Cameron scolded, giving him a little shove that made him release my hand. “Do not harass my editors, please.”

  Andre smirked, holding my gaze. “I don’t think she needs protection.”

  “You’re right – she doesn’t, but you might if I let her loose on you,” Cam warned. “Unless, what – you’re a sadist or something and enjoy being berated,” she laughed.

  “I might.”

  Oh God.

  “Man, come on here so I can ask you these questions,” Cam told him, then turned to me for a quick explanation. “I know we were supposed to meet this afternoon about the Pot Liquor profile, but I’ve been trying to talk to Dre about this business insider thing for a while, and couldn’t pin him down. As you can see, I’ve got ahold of him now, but I need to push our thing back. Is that okay?”

  While Cameron was talking, Andre had pulled out his phone, in what seemed to be a quick check of the screen. I was nodding along with my boss, but my attention, really, was on him and whatever he saw on his phone.

  Suddenly, he looked up at me, his eyes intense and dangerously focused.

  He’d gotten my request.

  “Um, y-yeah,” I stammered, forcing myself to respond to Cam’s question. “Yes, that’s totally fine.”

  “Perfect, thank you,” she told me. “You, bring your ass,” she said to Dre – a demand that set off a little prickle of… jealousy? Especially when he smirked about it before following her, giving me a little wink.

  Cameron was in a happily committed relationship, with a fine ass local firefighter who’d recently been promoted to chief. She came breezing into the office with a big smile on her face often enough that I was sure Will was getting her together on the regular.

  She didn’t want Andre like that, I was confident.

  But even if she did… why the hell should I care?

  Yeah.

  I couldn’t get down the hall to Bianca’s office fast enough, and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Girl, get Raisa in here. We’ll need all hands on deck for this.”

  The air felt different now.

  More charged.

  There was always a heightened aura of sex as I followed my escort down the hall to where he was waiting, but this time was… different.

  I’d done my lips in purple.

  Chosen black lingerie.

  Neither were his preferred colors, the things he’d stipulated in this anonymous, informal contract between us. I was, however, still wearing the mask – pointless since he knew my name, face, and boss, but I guess I still needed something to ground me to the moment.

  Something to make it “normal”.

  Well… as normal as something like this could be?

  When I stepped into the room, it was lit with the usual candles, and it occurred to me that this was likely part of why I hadn’t recognized him – the candles gave everything a romantic haze. Andre stood from where he was seated on the bench, already stripped down to his boxers as he padded toward me.

  “Have you touched yourself?” I asked, holding up a hand to stop him before he reached me.

  His eyebrow lifted. “Well, there are certain functions—”

  “Don’t get smart with me, motherfucker. You know exactly what I’m asking you.”

  He shook his head.

  “Good. Lay down.”

  He didn’t say a word, just moved to lower the bench like usual, then spread himself across it, like usual.

  “No,” I spoke up, when he started for his usual face-down positioning. “On your back.”

  If he minded me switching things up, he didn’t mention it – he got on his back, like I said, stretching out his arms and legs for the restraints. I bound him, tight, at his ankles and wrists, enjoying the feeling of his attention stuck to me as I moved around the bench.

  His dick was sticking almost straight up.

  Long and thick, the profile apparent even through the fabric of his boxer briefs – the only thing keeping him from pointing straight to the ceiling.

  Mouth-watering, as usual.

  I… wanted to do something with it – I wanted to do a lot with it, actually, but I had no idea where to start. So I stood there, flogger in hand, and then… whipped him.

  Right across his hard dick, still protected by his boxers.

  I don’t think either of us was expecting it, but from the groan Andre let out, straining against the restraints… I think he liked it.

  So of course, I didn’t do that again.

  I teased him with it, dragging the tails of the flogger along his arms and legs, whipping it across his chest and stomach. Across the front, everything was more sensitive than his back had been, and every little flinch, every grunt and groan… I loved that shit.

  So I climbed up on the bench too.

  I approached from the end where his head was, climbing over him to put my pussy right in his sights thanks to the crotchless panties I’d chosen for this little rendezvous.

  He followed my cue, his mouth open and ready to receive whatever I was offering, eager for me to ride his face.

  He was really, really good with his tongue. So good that I pressed down harder, giving him only enough air not to suffocate as I bent over, pulling his dick from his boxers. It was hard to focus with his tongue swiping dangerously close to my asshole, but I managed, finally doing what I’d wanted to do since I first laid eyes on the masterpiece he’d been carrying around between his legs.

  I took him in my mouth.

  I hummed against him as it pushed down my throat, making me gag a little but I didn’t care – I took him down to the root, my nose brushing against his balls as I made a swallowing motion. That must’ve been good to him, because his hips bucked away from the bench and his tongue went into overdrive against my clit. The sudden orgasm that hit me then forced me to pull up before I choked.

  Without looking back at him, I slid down his chest and stomach, abandoning the need to taste him for the need to have him inside me. No preamble, no teasing, I sank onto him and grabbed the restraints at his ankles, using them as a counterbalance as I rode him in reverse.

  “Fuuuck!” he groaned. “Untie me. Now.”

  My p
onytail swung, whipping against my back as I turned to look at him over my shoulder. I didn’t stop moving, enjoying the slick friction as my pussy stretched to accommodate him, but I smirked as I shook my head.

  Hell no.

  I turned back around, ignoring him as I rode him harder, using my fingers to play with my clit until I came again, without him.

  Only then did I give him my attention again.

  “You… want to be untied, huh?” I asked, laying down against his chest, with my legs straddling his hips.

  “Yes. So I can fuck you like we both deserve,” he growled, glaring at me from his incredibly vulnerable position.

  I raised my eyebrows, and grinned at him. “What?” I asked, sitting up. My pussy was against his stomach, so I reached behind me, grabbing his dick and stroking. “You think I’m not capable?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just—”

  “You just what?” I asked, squeezing him, hard. Past the point of pleasure. “I think you’re just impatient.” I let him go long enough to scoot back, making sure my pussy dragged across him before I straddled his legs. “You don’t think I can make you cum anymore?”

  “Can you?”

  “Can I?” I asked, starting to stroke him again. I could feel the tension in his thighs, hear the tightness in his voice. He only needed just a little further push – he was so fucking close.

  No wonder I was pissing him off.

  I leaned in, flicking my tongue over his sensitive head before I took it in my mouth, making him suck in a breath. I took him further then, down the back of my throat, sucking harder and harder until his hips started bucking again, like he was right there.

  And then I stopped, again, to look up at him with a big grin.

  “Drew… stop fucking playing with me,” he demanded.

  I laughed, then bit my lip as I moved into position to sink onto his dick again. “You’re not in chaaa-arrrge,” I sang as I rode him, taking him deep at first and then pushing up to ride just on the tip. He couldn’t keep how good it felt to him off his face, couldn’t control the way his body naturally reacted to the tight wetness of my pussy, so I could tell exactly when to stop and get off.

  To keep torturing him.

  “Fuuuck me,” he groaned, throwing his head back in frustration until I took him in my hands again, jacking him off. I was having the time of my life as I, once again, brought him right to the brink of ecstasy and then, again… backed off.

  “Tell me who this dick belongs to,” I chided, my hands planted on either side of his head as I bent over him, my face hovering just inches from his.

  “You,” he answered, returning my smirk. “Drew Dawson, age twenty-eight, asshole foodie. I will gladly let you run my dick. Is that what you wanna hear?”

  “Mmmhmmm,” I told him, grinning as I sank onto him again and sat up, circling my hips against him. “You looked me up?” I asked, pulling my lingerie over my head so I was nude except for the crotchless panties.

  He spent a moment greedily eyeing me, then brought his gaze to mine. “Did you expect me not to?”

  “I wouldn’t want a man who could help himself,” I admitted, propping my hands against his chest as I rode him. I wouldn’t front – watching his wrists flex against the restraints made me want to let him free, so he could grab and caress whatever he wanted.

  But… I liked his helplessness too.

  This time, when I felt him getting close, I didn’t move away – instead, I slid my hands up his pecs, past his collarbone, easing my fingers around his neck. I planted my thumbs at the base of his throat, relishing the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes as I pressed in, cutting off his air as I rode him harder, and harder, until his hips rocked hard enough to buck against me and I felt his cum surging into me as he let go.

  When I let his neck go, he wasn’t moving.

  Even when I kept moving, kept riding until I’d gotten one more myself, he just laid there, panting like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

  “Pretty sure I left my soul in your pussy just now,” he grunted, making me laugh as I slowly raised off of him. My legs were the good kind of shaky as I undid his restraints, thinking we were done, and it was time to part ways.

  He… had other plans.

  I barely had time to react before I was on my back, pinned against the bench by the heavy weight of Dre’s body. It reminded me of being in his office, before I even realized our connection – when I’d gotten so embarrassingly turned on by him yanking me around.

  “You’re not fucking anybody else,” he said, framing it clearly as an imperative, not a question or a request.

  “What about my boyfriend?”

  “He’ll adapt,” Andre countered, calling my bluff without blinking as he lined his dick up with my opening and sank into me with a firm, swift stroke. He kept that hand between us, pinching my clit between his fingers as he fucked me. “Your pussy belongs to me, from here out.”

  “I’m supposed to be in charge,” I whimpered, unable to help myself from that plaintive reaction as he drove into me, stretching and filling me up from a whole new angle. Riding him was one thing, but he was able to get deeper now – so much he was setting off tremors from my fingertips to my toes.

  “You are,” he murmured against my lips, just before he slipped his tongue between them, and… shit.

  This was not supposed to be like this.

  I was supposed to come in here, whip his ass and then jack him off, then go home and do myself.

  He was not supposed to be inside me, and I was not supposed to be enjoying it, but… here we were.

  I hooked my legs around his waist, matching his rhythm with my hips as he stroked, and stroked, and stroked, harder and faster and deeper and harder until we were sweating and panting and spent all over again.

  Yeah.

  We were definitely “off plan” now.

  4

  Andre

  “You keep talking to me about heart like I give a shit about that.”

  “You should give a shit about it, though.”

  “Why, when you give enough shits for the whole damn family?” I argued across the desk to Aiden, who was pacing back and forth in front of it. “Don’t get me wrong – I hear you, but you’re stepping into my lane and I need you to back the fuck up.”

  “Or what?” he asked, tossing his hands up, his face twisted in anger – signs I’d pushed him out of his usual “zen”.

  Still, I chuckled. “Or, we don’t have to do this shit at all,” I explained. “Investing in the revitalization of failing restaurants was your idea, not mine. I went along with it because you were passionate about it, and you made a solid case. But I’ve always been upfront that if we moved forward on this, I would be the one handling any contract negotiations. Once the deal is done, Tigress is yours.”

  “We won’t have a deal if you don’t let up,” Aiden argued. “Do you really not understand why the current owner keeps pushing back? You’re trying to take over.”

  I scoffed. “You’re damn right I’m trying to take over – they had their chance with it already, and ran it into the ground to the point that they need this help. I’m trying to bring it back and turn it into something.”

  “It’s not their fault they were taken advantage of.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  Aiden stopped pacing long enough to give a “look” – one he’d perfected over many long years of being our family’s bleeding heart.

  “Don’t start that shit,” I told him, shaking my head as I laughed – it wasn’t working on me today. He and Addison loved acting like I was some heartless taskmaster when I wasn’t caving to their – often frivolous – business ideas, when really, I was the one making sure we made money.

  If you wanted to contribute to the culture and community, sure, time and energy were welcomed, and valuable. But funding was necessary too.

  “They’re not asking much,” Aiden argued, sounding more like he was on their side than mine.

&nb
sp; Ours.

  “Neither am I,” I countered. “The idea is to bring in new restaurants under our branch of the Clarke umbrella. We infuse them with cash, back them with our brand, while their owners still get to run them – with some training – and get paid more than they were making on their own.”

  “Yes, but you’re asking for fifty-one percent of their business, and making them change the name.”

  I shrugged. “Fifty-one percent ensures we have control of the big decisions and don’t get fucked over after we’ve invested in them. It doesn’t mean they have no say, just that we have the final say. And they won’t have to change the name. It’ll just be Tigress – by the Clarke Brothers on paper. Everybody will still call it what they called it before.”

  “It’ll be on the front of the building, on the menus, on the website…”

  “And most people won’t even fucking notice,” I argued, not even close to conceding on this point. “This is petty. I know your position is that it’s about the heart of the place and what not, but when it comes down to it, I’ve given enough. I could’ve stuck with buying them out completely and calling it a day, maybe hiring them to work there. As it stands now, I’m about to be business partners with somebody who didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.”

  Aiden huffed. “You’re acting like it was a wreck or something. Everybody in Blackwood knows and loves Tigress, it just… got a bit out of hand with the increased popularity, and then the shady business manager…”

  “Yeah – the place had potential, got grossly mismanaged, and now we’re swooping in to save it. I don’t understand what the argument is here,” I told him. “The bottom line is, I’m not moving anymore on this. The current terms are my final offer. They can take it, or we’ll take the deal to somebody else who wants it.”

  “Dre—”

  “That’s it,” I said, with finality that couldn’t be argued, because the way the business was structured, this was solely up to me. I absolutely took my brothers’ input – it was how Tigress was getting what it was getting in the first place. But Aiden was ruled by emotion over logic, and Addison was young and inexperienced.