by Penny Wylder
His eyes ignite with pleasure as he realizes the same thing. Stopping a foot away, he rolls his shoulders back, lengthening his body. Like a hunter trapping its prey, he smoothly closes the gap.
“Look what I just caught.” Taking a long step in, he lowers his face and inhales a slow silent breath. “You smell amazing.” Stroking my jaw, he runs his finger across my chin, drawing a swirl in the center.
Turning my face away, I try to stop myself from blushing. But my cheeks heat instantly, and my chest is warm, buzzing with need. I can't stop it as my insides start to tumble and my muscles become electrified.
Damn it! No more of this!
With open palms, I hold up my hands as a wall between us. It's weak, I know, and I won't be able to stop him if he wants to break through, but I need to do something to keep him from getting any closer. To feel protected from him.
I'm terrified that my body is going to take over, giving him complete permission to do whatever he wants with me. Phade has this power, an ability to steal my self control. I learned that first-hand the other night when I said yes and let him fuck me in the bathroom.
“We should work on our story, make sure we're both on the same page. We can tell people we met at a charity event.” I'm trying like hell to divert all of this, all of his sexual energy and wanton need in his eyes.
My eyes scan around his body, searching for an exit, but I can't find one. Phade's hot skin is so close to mine, I can see the sweat as it trickles down his chest, following all the sharp angles and hard ridges.
His chest flexes, forcing me to dart my eyes back to his, and the knowing grin on his face. “Like what you see?”
“Can we please just focus on our back story, and how we met at a charity event?”
Lifting a hand to either side of my head, Phade boxes me in, lowering his face so his lips hover over my cheek. “That doesn't sound like me at all,” he says, his warm breath rolling across my cheek, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“I think it will work.” The words barely squeak out loud enough to be heard.
“It won't.”
I can feel his lips. They're not on my skin yet, but they're so close I can imagine them there, kissing me, tasting me, pleasuring me.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice tense as I try to force the dirty thoughts away.
You could fuck him here, no one will know but us two.
The small devil on my shoulder is giving me advice and I'm trying so damn hard to ignore him. But it's hard, fuck, it's so damn hard. I can feel my chest starting to arch into his, as my breathing picks up and my pussy grows wet.
“Because it's not me.” Resting on his forearm, Phade starts to tease the trim of my blouse. He's pinching the hem, running his fingers back and forth at my waistline.
“Is being you, all the partying and drinking, worth losing it all?”
Phade's lips slip over the shell of my ear and my eyes shut instantly. “I'll always be me, no one can change that. The person you are is burned into every piece of your body, from your pores to the very cells that make them up.” The tips of his fingers run across the curve of my shoulder, moving down the outside of my arm. Tangling his fingers with mine, he tilts his head. “But now you've got me wondering.”
“Wondering what?” My voice is nothing but air as he runs his hand up my throat and lifts my chin toward the ceiling.
“Do you know who you are?” Placing a tender kiss on the underside of my throat, I moan on instinct.
Biting my bottom lip, I wait, anxiously craving for him to keep going. Phade kisses my neck again, moving lower. His mouth tickles across my chest, fluttering light kisses along the way. Exhaling hard, his hand moves down over my breast, slipping over my stomach and coming to rest on my hip.
Pressing up onto my toes, my body leans forward, being pulled like a moth to a flame. My nipples are hard and sensitive, scraping the inside of my bra as my pussy throbs and my belly fills with butterflies.
And just like that, as quickly as he was there, Phade's gone. The heat off his body dissolves as he takes several steps back. Opening my eyes, he's unwrapping his hands from my waist.
“Dinner tonight, you and me.” Balling up the tape from his fists, he tosses it into the garbage and starts to walk away.
“Wait—” I call out, stunned and confused as my body comes down from the high he's sending it on. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner, you know, when two people sit down and eat food together.” Phade turns and is walking backward, his smile thick and amused.
“Dinner where?” I'm still confused, not exactly sure how we got to this point at all.
“I'll send a car for you, seven o'clock, be ready.”
Then he's gone, disappearing behind a blue door.
And I'm left wondering what the hell just happened?
I went into work to get shit in order, but I'm leaving with soaking wet panties and dinner plans with Phade Manson.
This day isn't going how I planned at all.
6
Phade
The limo pulls up to her building, and I feel my nerves as they stir with wild trepidation. I'm eager to see her, to smell her, to feel her heat. This woman has invaded every piece of my brain, there isn't one nook or cranny that isn't focused on her and her alone.
I want to know all the spots that make her moan if I touch her just right. I want to learn about who she is and where she's been. What's her favorite movie, her favorite food, her worst memory, her best gift. . . All of it.
This isn't how I normally operate. Yet I'm not fighting against this desire, I embrace it, I condone it, I want it.
Sylvia's a challenge, a challenge I'm eager to conquer. There's a sense of satisfaction that settles comfortably in my gut when I get what I want. And I want her.
Smiling to myself, I climb out of the car, adjusting my sleeves as I lean against the door and take my phone from my pocket.
'I'm outside.' Sending the text, I'm fixated on the double fold in my cuff. I can't get it to sit flat, so I keep folding it over and pressing it firmly in place.
Stupid fucking thing. I'm never going to that dry cleaner again.
Grunting to myself, I drop my arms to my sides, tucking my hands into my pockets. These nerves are fucking killing me. My mind is jumping from thought to thought, my eyes are drawn to stupid little shit that really doesn't matter, and I don't know how to stop it.
This isn't who I am. I don't get nervous. The feeling is foreign, and I'm trying to figure out how to manage it. I'm a one and done type of guy, that's been my motto for as long as I can remember. The fact I'm here is jarring.
What the hell are you doing, Phade?
Ignoring what's brewing inside hasn't been possible, and trust me, I've tried. This feeling is just too strong and loud for me to pretend it's not there.
So, fuck it, I thought to myself finally. Why not embrace whatever the hell this is? Let it play out, see where it goes—enjoy the ride.
I'll let her get on and ride if she likes. . .
Glancing down at my blazer, I see a few stray hairs. As I'm plucking the hairs off the front, a pair of black heels stop in front of me. My eyes stay static for a moment, staring at the shiny heels.
They're high, slim, the black coated in a lacquer that gives the shoe a mirror like appearance. One foot tips on its side, the other one moves the toe outwards.
“Eh hm,” she coughs into her hand, clearing her throat. “You uh, you all right?”
Slow and methodically, I run my eyes up her body, following the smooth skin and sharp curves. Her dress is a soft pink, hugging her full hips and framing every inch of her body like it was made just for her.
The hem of the skirt is ruffled across the edge, and all I can think about it running my palm back and forth over the ruffle to feel it tickle my skin. The neckline dips low, wrapping the outside of her shoulders, her cleavage is the only thing that's stopping the top from slipping down to her belly.
A sparkly di
amond necklace is dressing her neck, giving her the perfect amount of bling. Her lids are tinted blush pink, matching her dress, and her lips are nude, natural, with a light layer of gloss. Loose, dark curls bounce on her shoulders, framing her face as a breeze blows strands in front of her eyes.
She looks amazing.
Our eyes connect and she smiles. “A limo—and you're right on time,” she says, tring for sarcasm but her voice catches, “And to think, I wasn't even sure you'd actually show up.”
“Wow,” I say, standing up straight and taking a second look up and down her body. I don't try to hide the fact I'm checking her out, I gladly let her know that I like what I see. “I would never miss this. I mean look at you—damn.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is soft as she pitches her chin into her chest and smiles. “I was hoping this wasn't too dressy, you didn't really say where we're going.”
“You look perfect.” Opening the door for her, I can't stop myself from biting my knuckles and growling. “Absolutely perfect. We don't need to go to dinner, we can just go upstairs to your place. . .” Waggling my brows, I give her a playful smile.
“Stop, this is a business meeting, remember?”
“Of course, nothing but business,” I say seriously.
She steps forward as she gives me a look that says you're full of shit, and I notice something in her hands.
“What's that you got there?”
“Oh,” she says, holding it closer to her chest, and looking down. “I tried to show you yesterday, but you were a little preoccupied.” Tipping her head, she glares at me under hooded lids. “This is the holy grail to get this done right. Everything we need for the plan is in here.”
“The what?” Cocking a brow, I keep my eyes on her.
“The plan.” She looks up at me as she says it again. Seeing the confusion on my face, Sylvia brushes it off. “It's nothing, I'll explain it all later, don't worry about it right now.”
I stare blankly. I'm not aware of a plan, and I didn't realize that any of this required research and directions.
We don't need a breakdown of anything, I'm good with just letting it all play out on its own. She's thinking way too much about it. It's simple in my eyes. Find one little bird to send word to those wonderful journalists and let them do the rest.
All we have to do is smile and wave. Boom, problem solved and she’s the next Mrs. Phade Manson.
Sylvia bends over and climbs into the backseat, so I take the chance to check out her ass before it disappears as she sits. She scoots over so can I climb in next to her, and I can't take my eyes off her.
She crosses her legs, and I'm tempted to feel how smooth they are. Her hands fold on top of the binder, and she takes a deep breath as she keeps her face looking out the window. I watch her tits rise, and they stay there suspended in air as she holds her breath.
“Nervous?” I ask her, thumbing my bottom lip.
“No, why?” Her face whips in my direction as her lips thin. She looks almost offended at my suggestion.
Smirking, I relax back in the seat. Reaching to my right, I grab two glasses for champagne. “Yes you are, it's written all over your body.”
“What are you, a body psychic? You have the power to tell me what I'm feeling, and that what I'm telling you is wrong? Who do you think you are?”
Passing her a glass of champagne, she snatches it from my fingers and takes a big gulp.
“No, that's not it at all. I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, or how you should feel. I'm just telling you what I see, that's all. You don't need to put on an act for me, I'm not the paparazzi.”
Rolling her eyes, she swallows as she nods. “Right, you have an answer for everything. You know this pretentious attitude of yours is what got you in this position to begin with. Maybe you should just listen more and talk less. We all don't want your opinion, nor do we need it.” Huffing loudly, she turns her face back to the window.
I'm not trying to upset her or make her angry. I just don't want her to feel like she has to hide from me. I'm not here to judge her; unlike those vampire paparazzi, who print every dumb opinion for the ass bags of the world.
If we're doing this, let's do it right. I don't hide shit from anyone, even strangers. You meet me, you know exactly what you're getting.
Eyeing her quietly for a moment, I lean over and refill her glass. “I didn't mean to upset you, I just want you to be comfortable with me, that's all,” I say with a smile. “You really do look amazing, I mean that.”
“Don't get any ideas, Phade. We've been over this. It's just business.” Messing with the binder on her lap, she pulls it in against her stomach. She's holding it like it's the bible, or some type of historical document that needs to be protected.
Pressing my palms into the tops of my knees, I look over at the giant blue binder. “So, what's in that thing anyway? My life history? The evolution of Phade Manson? Because whatever it is, it looks like a lot.”
“No, it's nothing like that. This is our play book. A step by step guide to our engagement. When we met, how we met, all of it.” Touching the cover, she opens it slightly, then drops it back down. “This is going to be our story, the one we use. I have it all separated into key points, with labeled sections and cheat sheets so it's easy for you to follow. Every detail matters. You've been in the paper way too much. Now it's time for us to counterattack.”
Furrowing my brows, I crook my jaw. “So, that entire binder basically tells our history that you created?”
“I guess you can put it that way.”
“Huh,” I grunt, rubbing my jaw. “I've never had someone plan everything out for me like this before.”
“Well,” she says with a serious tone. “You've never been in a position like this before.” Playing with the cover, she moves her eyes to the window. “And neither have I.”
“You mean your father hasn't forced you to be engaged to other fighters before?”
“Step-father,” she quickly corrects me, letting out a scoff. “And no. Are you kidding me? Do you really think this is normal for me or something?”
Shrugging, I hold out my arms.” I don't know; you tell me, you're the one holding a binder full of directions. It certainly doesn't seem like this is your first time.”
Her eyes jerk back in my direction, forehead crinkling with light lines. “Daniel doesn't usually go through this much trouble for one of his fighters. You should be grateful he's putting this much energy into you at all, because I wouldn't if I were him. You keep going the way you have been, and he's going to lose more than just his good name.”
Thinning my lips, I shake my head. I'm not sure what to say right now. Why should I be grateful for my own talent? If Daniel hadn't signed me, someone else would have eventually.
I made my own destiny, no one handed it to me on a silver platter. Daniel has the cash to open certain doors, to parade me around like some golden goose he bought. But it's my skills, mine and mine alone, that win each and every fight.
“Maybe it should be the other way around.”
“You think Daniel should be thanking you?” Her head jerks back on her neck as her eyes open wide. “You can't be serious. Why should he treat you like you're special? There'll be other Phade Manson's in the future, you're not the only special thing that deserves attention.”
“There will never be anyone else like me, I am the name—the muscle—the man. As for Daniel, we both know that he's going straight to the top with me, but without me, he'll fall flat on his face.” Veering my stare, I hold my eyes on hers. “I'm going to cement Daniel in this world, I promise you that.”
“You really think that?” she asks, her voice full of disbelief.
“If you don't, then you obviously don't know how good I am at what I do.” Brushing my knuckles across the outside of her thigh, I let my eyes settle on her face. “I excel at everything, one of those things you learned firsthand.” My smile spreads slow and steady as I watch my words sink into her brain. “I know that
pussy didn't forget this cock.”
Sylvia just glares at me, her eyes moving to my cock briefly, then flicking back up. I'm pretty sure I pissed her off. Her eyes go dark as they still on my face. Flaring her nostrils, she stays quiet as she inhales a deep breath.
But in that stare I see something else. I see lust. I see need. I see memories and a body that knows exactly what it feels like to have me inside. A body that wants more.
The hair on her arms stands up as a visible shiver runs down her body. Her chest snaps outward, her breathing intensifies.
Licking her lips, Sylvia pulls her bottom lip deep into her mouth. And fuck me, that pouty little frown only makes my dick pulse and my balls tighten.
My eyes move down her legs, tracing her calf muscles. The heels make her legs look endless, giving me miles of skin to run my tongue over. I find myself wondering what color panties she's wearing, or maybe it's none at all?
I want to break you, I want to make you crumble and then put all your pieces back together so they fit my world and my world only.
“Don't even think about it,” she says, catching my stare.
“Think about what?” Holding out my arms, I try to show her that I'm harmless.
“Don't play with me. I know what's running through your head right now.”
Chuckling, I rub my chin with my thumb, and turn my face to look out the window. “We're here.” I say, seeing the sign for the restaurant. “But just so you know, and there isn't any confusion, playing is my favorite thing to do.” Smirking, I wink.
The limo stops and the valet comes, pulling the door open, and leaving her no time to lash out at me. I can see it in her eyes though, her fiery tongue, ready to spit facts and tasks in my face.
I step out, turning back to offer my hand to Sylvia. She hesitates for a second. It's brief, but that second of hesitation makes my heart drum and my stomach curdle.
