by Penny Wylder
I can smell the jail on my skin. It's a musty hospital scent, and I want it gone.
Turning on the water, I wait until steam is pouring out of the top before getting in. Dipping my head under the stream, the water runs down my back, soothing the slight ache.
Closing my eyes, the water moves down my forehead, dripping off the tip of my nose. The woman from last night flashes in my mind, and my dick instantly jerks.
Her body could drop any man to his knees. Perfect curves, flawless velvet smooth skin, plump round ass.
Bracing myself against the wall with my forearm, I wrap my other hand around my shaft. Gripping hard, I squeeze the head as I think about her wet cunt and her ass as it jiggled with each pump of my cock. She was smooth, tight, her juice silky and warm.
Stroking down, I hit the base and slowly move back up to the tip. The mystery woman's tits, her ass, the way she kissed, I could almost feel her all over again. Faster and faster I pump my cock, until my stomach clenches and my balls draw up.
I want to find her, I want to know her name, I want to fuck her over and over. My hand is moving rapidly, and I can feel the heat as it spreads down my shaft, ready to explode from my swollen tip.
Harder and faster, I work my cock. The sexy little vixen is my muse, her body the canvas I want to paint with my cum. With one final pump, I squeeze the crown as cum shoots out, spilling over my hand.
A light grunt escapes my lips as I drop my forehead on the wall and let my body relax deeper into the water as the orgasm burns through my muscles.
I stay like this for a few minutes, enjoying how much lighter I feel. Rinsing my hand off in the water, I watch the puddle of cum as it swirls around my foot and disappears down the drain.
Washing my hair and body, I turn off the water and grab a towel to dry off. Wrapping it around my waist, I go into my room. I still have twenty minutes before Daniel expects me, so I flop on the bed and let my body get sucked into the mattress.
Oh my God, this is so much better than the prison bed. I'll just rest my eyes for a little bit, then I'll go to this dumb meeting.
Closing my eyes, I wake up to my phone going off. I'm a little dazed. I must have fallen asleep. Picking it up, I focus my eyes and see it's Daniel.
Screw it, he can wait.
Sending him to voicemail, I rest the phone on my chest and try to fall back asleep. Within seconds, my phone goes off again, so I send him to voicemail a second time.
It becomes a cycle like that. He calls, I hit decline, repeat over and over until eventually he just stops. I'm exhausted, my body feels drained. I didn't get much sleep last night and it's definitely caught up with me, because I drift back to sleep easily.
Blinking my eyes open, I can see the clock on my nightstand. It's two hours later, well past the time Daniel told me to be at the office. Checking my phone, I have seven missed calls, seven messages, and ten text messages all from my boss.
There's no point in reading or listening to any of the messages because I already know what he's going to say. He's pissed and I'm a fuck up.
Getting out of bed, I put on some clothes, and throw a little gel in my hair so it doesn't look like I just woke up.
Driving to Daniel's office, I stop for coffee and a sandwich on the way. I'm already late, what's a few more minutes?
The door closes behind me with a slam. The secretary, Carla, looks up at me from behind her desk. Dipping her head, her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. I feel like a kid getting sent to the principle.
“You're late. Daniel expected you hours ago.”
“He should know better by now. I don't do well with time restraints.”
“I'm serious, Phade, he isn't happy with you.”
Strolling up to her desk, I grab a handful of candy from the small jar and throw a piece into my mouth. “Is he ever really happy?”
“Don't say I didn't warn you.”
“I never would.” Winking, I get a pleasant little smirk from her as I walk to Daniel's door and knock.
“Yeah?” he asks. His voice sounds muffled, like he's got his head buried in something.
Opening the door, I poke my head in, and see him reading the newspaper. “Hey, I'm here.”
Slamming the paper down, his eyes open wide, exposing all the white. His mouth is tight and thin, thick lines run across his forehead as his brows drop in hard.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands, as the whites in eyes explode with crackling red veins.
Oh wow, he is really pissed.
Taking a step inside, I close the door. “Daniel, I—”
“Don't you try and give me any of your fucking excuses!” Pounding his fist on the table, he growls. “You've been screwing up left and right. Getting drunk, getting into fights, acting like a damn fool! It's not just your face those reporters see, it's mine too!”
I hold up my hand and smile. “Calm down, it's not that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal, not a big deal. . .” Pausing, he lowers his head into his hands and presses his temples. “You think the world revolves around you, you think you're untouchable—”
“I am untouchable.”
Maybe I was a little too cocky, but it was the truth. I am untouchable. No one matches me in the ring, and no one touches me out of it. I know I might be going a little crazier than I should be, and yeah, getting blackout drunk isn't good for anyone's image, let alone mine, but you're only young once. Why not live like it?
Slowly, he lifts his head and looks at me. Daniel doesn't say anything, he just glares at me with beady black eyes, and a scowl on his face. Shifting his gaze, he nods toward the chair.
His silence jars my nerves slightly because I have no idea what he's thinking. Daniel is a man with no filter. He speaks when he feels he should, he says what's on his mind, he never holds back.
So the fact that he's currently mute, his eyes a dark shadow of insanity as the orbs dance in the sockets, I know whatever is in his head isn't good.
Taking the seat, he pushes the newspaper across the desk. “Did you see this?” he asks, tapping the paper. “Take a good look.”
“What is it?” Scanning the paper, I see my face from last weekend. I remember that night; well, most of it.
It was one of those nights where shit starts to fade and blur after midnight. Full images become blips as time tears into bits and nothing is certain. But the night ended with me throwing some asshole into a dumpster after beating his ass.
“Yeah, and? Why are you showing me this?” Shoving it back in his direction, I fold my arms across my chest. “I like having fun, Daniel, what's so wrong with that? You never went out and had fun?”
Gritting his teeth, his voice comes out torn and shredded between angry breaths. “This ends today. There won't be any more of this shit.” Slamming a single finger down on his desk, his head tilts slightly. “I'm done cleaning up your messes, Phade—done.”
“Cleaning up my messes? Daniel, you might own me in the ring, but you don't actually own me. I fight for you, I don't live for you.”
A sly smile spreads on his face as he wags a finger in the air. “That's where you're wrong. You signed a contract, that makes you mine. I own you, I own everything about Phade Manson.” Pushing back from his seat, he rests his arms behind his head. “I'm not bailing you out ever again. It ends now; all the partying, all the late nights, the drunken fights, everything. Your wild days are over.”
Scoffing, I veer my stare and snap. “You can't tell me what to do. I signed a contract for the ring, that's it.”
“Fighting outside the ring is a breach of contract. I can rip up your contract and find someone else if I want to. You broke your word, legally I could drag you through the mud. I can drop you, I can end all of this for you with the snap of my fingers. I can take everything you own—all of it, and wipe my ass with your face.” Tapping his finger against his chin, he's twisting side to side in his chair. “But, I don't want to do that. I want you to stay, I want you to be
better, to fight harder. And I know how to fix you and your image. I've thought long and hard about this, and it's going to smooth over all these headlines. You'll be back on top, in the good graces of the world.”
Rolling my eyes, I can't pretend he sounds interesting. He's being fucking ridiculous. But I'm going to play his little game and see what he has in mind for me. If nothing else, I'll at least get a good laugh out of this.
“And what the hell is that?”
Daniel smirks as he leans over his intercom and presses the button. “Carla, we're ready now.”
“Alright, Mr. Cross,” she says, her voice holding a slight crackle as it comes out of the speaker.
Daniel's eyes instantly jump to the door, so I turn in my chair to look. The door opens slowly, and my heart jumps into my throat. I can't think straight, I'm excited and shocked all at once.
Holy shit. . .
It's her.
Rubbing my eyes, I'm not sure if I'm still drunk and dreaming, or if I'm really sitting here, face to face with her.
“Phade, met Sylvia Fontain.”
The shyness I saw in the club is still there. She isn't looking at me, her eyes bounce around the room as her fingers twist nervously around each other. She looks stunning. The form fitting fifties style dress hugs her curves, belling out at the bottom. The black fabric is covered in red roses and her scarlet heels make her dangerously sexy.
Perking in my seat, I give her a little wave. “Hi there.” I can't stop the grin that's spreading from ear to ear, or my heart from beating a little bit faster.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd see her here. Yet, here she is, standing two feet away, nervously rocking in place like a kid giving a presentation in front of the whole class.
Pushing up from his chair, Daniel walks to her and pulls her in for a hug. “Sylvia is going to be the reason you stay sober, Phade; to keep you out of those bars, to stay on the clear and narrow. My step-daughter here, she's exactly what you need,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “You two are about to get engaged.”
Our eyes connect, hers grow large like saucers as my jaw drops open.
I have no words. Because I wasn't sure I heard him right.
He couldn't have just said what I think he said. . . Could he?
Engaged?
4
Sylvia
His eyes are dark and bold, with gold flecks that burst when the light skims across the surface. I feel them all over my body as he gazes up at me from his seat. The temperature must drop ten degrees, because why else would my nipples harden and goosebumps prickle my skin?
Flashes of our night together are rolling through my head. His smile, his cologne, his strong arms, the way he made it so easy to say yes, when I really should have said no.
I can't even bring myself to look at him directly. My eyes drift over his briefly and my cheeks flush instantly. The memories shift to dirty touches. His hands on my hips, his lips on my neck, his cock deep in my pussy. All of it comes flooding back, making my heart kick against my ribs like a caged bird trying to escape.
I can't breathe. Fuck, I can't breathe.
Focusing on the air coming in and going out, I force the thoughts away of how big his dick is, of how I'd love to feel him inside me again, and how hard I came as he buried himself inside me.
Just breathe, don't think about it.
Don't focus on his washboard abs, and how his tongue was warm as he licked the nape of my neck, causing goosebumps to explode all over my skin. Don't focus on his hands and how they felt as they slipped up my thighs, teasing my pussy.
Shit. . .
Not focusing isn't working. My thighs are slick with arousal as it drips, making my panties wet and warm. I've never been this wet before from just thoughts, it's insane.
Phade is still staring at me. I don't think his eyes have left me once since I walked in, and I can't help but wonder if he knows he's doing this to me?
Does he know I'm wet for him right now?
From the corner of my eye I see him smirk as the tip of his tongue peeks out ever so slightly from behind his lips. My cheeks are hot, and I know the blush is making its way down my neck.
I never meant to sleep with him. That was never my intention. I went to the club just to watch him from a distance, to get an idea on who he really is, so I know how to approach this whole engagement thing.
And for some unexplainable reason, he found me in the crowd. Of all the girls, of all the other possibilities he had to choose from, Phade came to me—me.
My muscles quiver as a ghostly shadow of his touch slips down my spine. I almost moan, but I stop myself, holding it in the back of my throat and swallowing it.
I can't let him get to me. It was casual sex, people do it all the time.
Now it's business. Period.
From here on out, it has to be about changing his image. Nothing else. I want to run the PR department more than anything, and it's important for Daniel to see me taking charge.
Before setting foot in Daniel's office today, I promised the celibate gods that I would be good, that I wouldn't let myself stumble again. There will be no more getting sucked into Phade Manson.
“I'm turning this over to Sylvia,” Daniel says, pushing his hands into the top of his desk. “Phade, she's in charge now, whatever she says, you do. Maybe if you listen, you'll still have a contract here in the future. I don't want to cut you, but I will if you don't pull your head out of your ass.” Tapping his knuckles on the wood, he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with him.
A small piece of me, that little girl that still exists inside, is screaming for him to stay. I don't trust myself alone with Phade. And I'm not sure I trust him either.
I've got this. It's fine.
Taking in a deep breath, I pull the binder out from behind my back and take Daniel's seat. I still can't look at Phade, so I open the binder and keep my eyes down.
“So I don't know what Daniel told you already—”
“Ooh, right down to business, I like it.”
Glancing up, I smile politely. “Phade, this isn't a joke, I hope you know that. Daniel's serious.”
Relaxing back, he slouches, resting his knuckles against his chin. “So am I. I like a woman who knows what she wants. Just like you knew what you wanted last night.”
Softly, I dab the open binder with the tips of my fingers. “We need to just focus on this. I have it all figured out. The ring, our history, where you can pop the question so the media can take it and run with it. I'm going to help you fix this mess and keep your job.”
Running his thumb across his bottom lip, his eyes circle my face. “Tell me. . .” Pausing, his gaze shifts, moving down my chest, then licking its way back up. “How is it that a girl like you, gets to tell me what to do?”
“Excuse me?” I'm not sure what he's trying to say exactly. But the way he says it causes my throat to dry and my heart to hammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Why couldn't a girl like me be his boss? Does he have something against women in charge? Does it bother him if he has to take orders from a girl?
Thinning his lips, he grabs a pen out of Daniel's cup, and spins it in his fingers. “Daniel is your boss, and your step-father?”
I give him a single nod, arching a brow in curiosity. “Yes, not that you don't already know that. But he's also your boss, and he told you to do what I say.”
“Does he know we fucked last night?”
“What?” Scoffing, I shake my head. “No, I didn't tell him that, I would never tell him anything like that.”
That wasn't supposed to happen, that part was a mistake.
“How do I know you're not just lying to me? Maybe that's why he's doing this. . .” Playing with the pen, he points it in my direction. “Maybe you're the reason for this?”
“Me? You think I'm the reason for all this? How could I be the reason for all this, when you're the one in the paper?”
His smile thicken
s as he bites the end of the pen and lowers his lids. He isn't speaking, he's just staring at me. There's something in his eyes, an intensity, a palpable feeling that's blanketing my body and giving me chills.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I look down at the binder and smooth my hand over the first page. “I won't be blamed for anything. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”
Chuckling, Phade's hands slide down the tops of his thighs. “I can think of a few things I'd like to do in bed with you, but it wouldn't be just lying there.”
“Phade, we're not doing this.” Flipping a finger between us, my expression is hard. “Last night was a mistake. Period.” My eyes drop to the binder and I push my fingers against the paper. “Today I am here to help you fix your image. That's what we need to focus on, only that.”
“Is it bad that I'm getting turned on from this? You giving me orders is hot as hell.” Phade stands from his seat, his eyes lock on mine as he walks around the desk. “Sylvia. . . I never would have guessed that was your name. I tried to imagine what it might be, but Sylvia never made the cut.” His thick, long legs bring him to my side in three steps. “Sylvia, Sylvia—” he repeats my name, adjusting his pitch higher and lower.
“What are you—”
Cutting me off, he leans over the desk on his forearms, keeping his eyes on my face. “I like it, it's nice to have a name to go with your face. When I jerked off earlier, I didn't have a name for you, now I do.”
My cheeks light on fire, and my mouth goes dry, making me cough.
He got off thinking about me?
The thought excites me, making me even wetter than I already am. The warmth mixes with the cooling arousal as I shift in the chair trying to calm the throb between my legs.
All right, enough of these games. It's time for business. We can't screw up a single detail, or the entire thing is ruined.
“Look,” I say, closing the binder and folding my hands on top. “I'm good at what I do, and I can tell from what I saw last night that you're not far from losing it all. If you want to keep your little red Ferrari and your Gucci shoes, and have it all by doing what you love, then you need to listen to me. Otherwise—”
