by Alex Wolf
Men.
Men suck.
Just ask my Aunt Susan whose ex-husband ran off with his trainer.
Before I can offer a thank you, he’s out of the car and the cab pulls away.
Weston
Pounding my fist against the punching bag, I can’t get the woman I shared a cab with out of my mind. Her snarky attitude had me wanting to shove my cock in her mouth. I should have known by her designer handbag and three-inch heels she’d be a snob who thinks she’s hot shit. Who knows? No strings attached rough sex might’ve gotten that stick out of her ass. I could’ve replaced it with something much better.
I smile at my thoughts.
I admit taking her cab was a dick move, but my driver was stuck in traffic, and I had a late dinner meeting. It wasn’t personal. But, my mother did raise me to be a gentleman and this is the south, so I shared the cab and paid for her ride home.
Getting pussy has never been a problem. Hell, I could’ve fucked my client’s wife before I flew back home yesterday. I could’ve handled our meeting by video conference, but Mr. Pike insisted the meeting take place in person. He couldn’t be bothered to fly back to Texas while vacationing.
Fucking clients.
I shouldn’t complain really. He brings in a shit ton of billable hours for the firm. The only problem with a man like Mr. Pike is he has too much money to burn. Thinks he owns everyone and doesn’t let you forget that you need him. Expects me to drop my life to tackle any legal problem that falls in his lap because he’s been with my firm, The Hunter Group, since the beginning.
And he needs attention all the time because he’s an asshole who can’t keep his cock to himself. Neither can his wife by the count of how many times her hands found their way to my ass during my visit. Somehow, I’ve managed to settle every sexual harassment case against him outside the courtroom. You’d think the bastard would learn by now with the millions he’s shelled out for my services and for the silence of his accusers.
He hasn’t though, and it’s rich pieces of shit like Pike that keep the world turning.
He’s an associate of my father. A real power player who has his hands in a bit of everything. The man has gone through more assistants than I have, and that’s saying something because I’m hard to work for.
I throw a few more punches before hitting the shower. It’s New Year’s Eve and I intend to go out, get drunk, and get laid. Three things that should be simple to accomplish.
I need to fuck that sexy woman from the airport out of my mind. If only I could stop thinking about her long legs wrapping around me and her heels digging into my ass while I go balls-deep into her sweet little pussy. She had blue eyes with flecks of green in them and I’m pretty sure she’s a closet screamer. I can just tell.
That’s how I imagined last night playing out in my mind, had she accepted my courteous invitation. I would’ve canceled my dinner meeting for her. Would’ve gladly had her as a meal.
I shrug. Her loss.
Yet, I still can’t shake her from my mind. The chick is everywhere.
Visions of her plump pink lips wrapping around the head of my cock have me fucking my hand as the warm water cascades over me. My fist tightening in her strawberry blonde hair as I work in and out of her smart mouth.
Fuck me. I stroke myself harder.
I watch her blue eyes staring up at me. She’s a hard little worker, making sure she tongues my shaft just right, trying to please me.
I should’ve asked for her number before hopping out of the cab. I bet she would have had another sassy remark. I can imagine her pink tongue flattening against my shaft taking me to the back of her throat.
It doesn’t take much imagination to get me off when I have good material to fantasize about.
As I step out of the shower my phone pings with a text from my little brother.
Brodie: Coming out tonight? Jaxson reserved the VIP room at that new club.
Weston: I’ll be there.
Tossing my phone on my bed, I finish toweling off and put some deodorant on.
Once I get dressed I head into the kitchen to heat up one of the meals Karen, my housekeeper, left before taking the weekend off. I fucking hate when New Year’s Eve falls on a Sunday. It means everything shuts down Monday for the holiday and it assfucks my whole week.
Digging into my chicken and vegetables, I look at the empty chairs around my table.
Being thirty-four, most people expect me to be married—settled down in the suburbs with kids. Fuck that. I’m in my prime and love single life in the city.
Sure, I’ve had my share of flings, but I don’t do girlfriends. I don’t do love. I like to fuck, and I like them to leave. It’s efficient and drama-free, usually. The arrangements work perfectly for me. I rent a room and get my rocks off. There’s no talking about how our day went or sitting through shitty movies to get to the prize.
I don’t have time for mundane shit, nor do I feel like doing anything I don’t want to do. I don’t need to know that a woman’s cat has allergies or that her hairstylist is a gossip.
Unlike Pike, I know how to separate my dick from my work. Which is another reason most of my assistants hate me. They see me, a young attractive man with a stable career who is unattached, and they think they can trap me. They think working in close-quarters means maybe I’ll fall in love if I just get to know them.
There’s only one problem with their theory. I don’t want to get to know them. All I need them to do is fetch my coffee and run my errands. Occasionally pick up my dry cleaning. It’s simple.
Finishing my meal, I toss out the leftovers and rinse my plate before sticking it in the dishwasher.
Glancing at the clock, I go back to my room and fire off a text to Rick, my driver, to bring the car around front.
When I exit the building, he’s waiting. Like I said, efficiency.
Brooke
Come on. It’s New Year’s Eve for crying out loud.” Misty screeches through the speaker on my phone.
“I can’t. I’m still recovering from the vacation from hell.” I stretch out on my couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a Twilight movie marathon. Jacob is about to turn into a werewolf, and I’m going to sit right here and debate which team I’m on.
I let out an aggravated huff and take a sip of my water.
“We’re not even thirty. Get off your ass. You can’t be a crazy cat lady until you’re thirty-five, at least.”
Running my fingers through Casper’s fur, I laugh lightly. He looks up at me as though he takes offense to her tone.
He purrs as I scratch behind his ears. At least Casper is loyal. Unlike my ex-boyfriend, Sean. He blamed his cheating with my former roommate on my job. Said I cared more about my work than I did our relationship. Maybe he was right. I don’t know.
My life seems to revolve around my profession. I love my job, but Sean was right, I don’t know how to shut that part of me down as often as I should.
“I got us a table at that new club. You know what I had to do to get Mr. Pike to get me this table? Please?” She draws the word out.
Mr. Pike is her silver fox asshole of a boss.
“No, and don’t tell me.” Misty and her boss have a special relationship. Meaning she’s his plaything, sidepiece, whatever the kids call it these days. I don’t know why she works for the man—I really don’t—but she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. Not my concern.
She can deny it all she wants but I know she’s in love with him.
“Meet you there in like an hour?” Her voice is desperate, a pleading tone.
Ugh. I hold my phone from my ear and look at the time. In Misty speak that means more like two hours which would give me time to get ready, if I was going out.
I do have a hot little red dress I’ve yet to wear and the perfect shoes to match.
Hmm.
“I didn’t hear a no.” Her voice is nasal and singsongy.
“If I say yes, will you stop talking like that?”
“Maybe.” She does the voice thing again.
“Fine. Text me the address and don’t be late.”
“I promise.”
She’s full of shit and I’ll be sitting at the table drinking alone for at least two songs before she shows up.
“I’ll be there.”
“Yay!” She squeals in my ear before the line goes dead.
Clicking the power button on the TV off, I move Casper from my lap and put a lid over my popcorn bowl to save it for tomorrow night.
That red dress hanging in my closet screams my name.
When I get inside the club, it’s filled with people wearing New Year’s party hats and dressed to the nines. The bar’s jam-packed, and the waitresses appear to be running their legs off for the private party going on in the VIP section that sits up a flight of stairs and overlooks the club. I’m twenty-eight. I should be living it up like the group up there. Maybe I will, for one night, anyway. I deserve it.
I’m married to my job because I love it. I’m an attorney on retainer for a women’s non-profit. I represent women who can’t afford someone on their own. I know I can’t save the world, but I try.
Maybe it’s time I put myself back out there again. It’s been nearly six months since I ended things with Sean and moved into my new apartment on my own.
Closing my eyes, I take a moment to let all my worries go. Tonight, I need to cut loose. It’s almost a new year and the air seems full of possibilities. Smiling to myself as my mind clears, I move to the music, swaying my hips with the beat.
Right now, I don’t care that Misty’s late. I don’t care that there will probably be ten new cases on my desk when I return to the office on Monday.
Right here, right now—there is just me and the music.
“Fuck me, that dress would look fantastic on my floor.” An oddly familiar voice growls in my ear and a hand slides around my waist from behind, pulling me into a solid chest.
Woodsy cologne envelops me, and I shake my head.
I know who it is without looking.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Out of all the bars in Dallas, fate has delivered the asshole from the cab.
“Weston?” I don’t look back, and hope to God it’s him or I’ll feel ridiculous.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about his cocky smile and that heart-piercing dimple, ever since he disappeared from the cab. I can practically feel his smirk burning a hole in the back of my head.
“I made an impression. What are you drinking?”
Normally I’d smart off, but I do need a drink. Besides, I need to kill some time until Misty arrives. “Whatever you’re having.”
He clears his throat, and I turn around to face him. I think he was expecting a snarky remark, and his face actually looks a little disappointed.
“Champagne in the VIP room. Want to join me?”
Is that hope I see sparkling behind his dark eyes?
“Okay.”
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“Nope. It’s New Year’s Eve and a time for new beginnings. Why don’t we start over?” I smile and hold my hand out. “I’m Brooke.”
He grabs my hand and electricity shoots straight to my pussy when he smiles, exposing that dimple I spent a good part of the night dreaming about. “Weston.” He gives me a side eye.
“What?”
“I don’t know how I feel about this yet.” He wags a finger up and down my body.
“I thought you liked the dress?”
“I’d like what’s underneath more.”
And, we’re back.
“I’m sure you would. I could use an errand boy to take it to the dry cleaners for me.”
“That’s better, cab girl.” He grins.
“Can I call you Wes?” I stare into those dark eyes and everything and everyone around us seems to freeze. It’s like we’re the only two people standing here while the rest of the night blurs past. Only a minute has passed but it feels like forever.
“No.”
“So, about that champagne you were going to fetch me?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
He doesn’t let go of my hand, simply moves his other to the small of my back and leads me to the velvet rope that gates the stairs to the VIP area. His hand is like fire, just inches from my ass, and I think I might combust.
He nods at the bouncer who lets us through.
As we approach the tables where his group is seated, a few of the girls flash me nasty looks. Guess they think I took him off the market for the night. I ignore them. I’m only using Weston to occupy time until my friend arrives.
To continue reading Devil in a Suit tap HERE!
Preview Playboy in a Suit
Introduction
Playboy in a Suit
I’m a playboy in a suit.
I like to do two things—whatever I want and dominate in the courtroom.
My brother and I run one of the most powerful law firms in Dallas.
I have a reputation.
Weston was the same, until Brooke came along and tamed him.
That leaves me.
One of us has to take care of all the smoking hot women in the city.
I knew better than to let my guard down at his bachelor party with all the booze floating around.
Apparently, I hooked up with the hottest stripper there. She was meant for my brother, but I kept her for myself.
We were so wasted I can’t remember anything about her.
When a dancer named April shows up at my firm a few months later wanting to sue her boss, one of my biggest clients, there’s a conflict of interest.
She looks familiar.
A lump forms in my throat when I notice a baby bump.
I have a sinking feeling she’s the one I hooked up with, and that baby might be mine.
No matter how hard I fight it, I know one thing—I want her, and the baby too.
She can fight it all she wants, but I’ll get her. I always get what I want. And I take care of what’s mine.
Because I’m Brodie Hunter, Attorney at Law.
April
Have you seen my gold hoop earrings?”
Jenny is always borrowing my stuff. I wouldn’t mind if she’d remember to return what she took once in a while.
I finish applying my lipstick while I wait for her to make an appearance.
I grow impatient, combing through my jewelry case again to see if I overlooked them. I’m going to be late. I took on a private party to earn some extra cash but if I’m not on time I can lose out on some good tips.
“Sorry.” She sucks in a breath through her teeth making some weird whoosh noise. Her fingers brush her hair behind her ears as she pokes her head through my bedroom doorway, revealing my earrings.
Rolling my eyes, I hold my palm out. “I’ll probably be out late tonight.”
“Well, be safe and all that.” She smirks, dropping the hoops into my awaiting palm.
“Always.” I grab a makeup wipe and clean off the ends before pushing them through my ears.
Picking my bag off the bed, I close my door behind me, half tempted to lock it so that nothing else of mine crawls off and disappears while I work. I adore my roommate, but she treats my closet like a five-finger discount store. I mean, I can’t blame her. I do have impeccable taste when it comes to fashion.
On my way out the door, Jenny stops me.
“Michael’s coming over, and I think it might be the night.” Her brows waggle.
I laugh. “Use protection.”
“Yes, Mother.” Moving her hand to the top of her head she salutes as I shut the door behind me.
She’s been seeing this guy, Michael, from her class for a month now, and they’ve yet to sleep together. I’m all for taking it slow but I’m pretty sure he’s gay. The guy dresses too nice and his brows are sculpted better than mine. I hate to see Jenny hurt but I’d bet that she’ll be crying into her Ben & Jerrys later when she makes a move and he gives her the just friends talk.
When I arrive at the club, Sheer Fantasy, the girls are already getting in the van. Shit. I’ll have to change on the way.
Five of us were hired for a bachelor party at some swanky building downtown, which means the money will be damn good. It’s the only reason I do private parties outside of the club where I dance. I park my car and grab my stuff as I rush for the van. Ben, our driver and security for the night laughs as I breathlessly climb in the back dragging my clothes with me.
“Don’t start.” I wag my finger at him with an airy laugh.
He shakes his head and starts the vehicle while I do my best to change clothes as he swerves in and out of traffic. He steals glances as I change, but I don’t mind. It isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before. He’s always a gentleman. Walks me to my car at night. Some of the customers can become infatuated and want more. Their lens between reality and fantasy blurs on occasion. One guy bought me an engagement ring without ever having a conversation. He’s since been barred from frequenting the club, for my safety.
“I love this.” Crystal runs her fingers over the sequins on my cop costume. “Did you make it?”
“Yeah.” I grin like an idiot as I hook the halter-style straps around my neck. I love making new outfits and costumes to wear to the club. When you dance four days a week, building a wardrobe can get expensive. Just because I take the clothes off doesn’t mean I don’t like a variety and to look good.
“Rod should hire you to make our stuff. You do great work.”
Stacie sneers at Crystal’s compliment. She’s a jealous cunt who doesn’t like me because I’m a headliner and bring in a lot of customers. Heavy tippers. It’s not my fault they don’t like her flat, dimpled ass. That’s not me being a catty bitch, it’s the truth. She doesn’t have the numbers to back up her attitude and she doesn’t take care of her body. Rod’s always threatening to fire her for drinking on the job, but he never goes through with it because they’re sleeping together.
I work out three days a week and take a pole dancing class at a local studio. I work hard to maintain my body and to earn paper.
