by Anna Lewis
Taking his cue from her cries, Andre slipped a second finger inside of her, then a third. Shelby was panting and crying, fucking herself down onto his hand. “Please, Andre, please,” she whined. “I need you now, I need all of you.”
Andre didn’t wait for her to ask twice. He pulled his boxer briefs down and his cock sprang forth, happily free of the confines of underwear. Shelby sat up for a moment, panting, and propped herself up on her elbows so she could properly admire the naked beauty of Andre’s cock.
She bit her lip in appreciation, allowing the subconscious gesture to be seen for once. Andre’s abs were like a washboard, a firm plane dipping into the V of his hips, which tapered down to his cock, standing firm and erect, emerging from a patch of thick black curls at its base.
Andre fell forward again, catching his weight on one propped elbow as he lined the head of his cock between Shelby’s legs, tip pressing urgently at her dripping slit.
“Andre,” Shelby pleaded, and then he was in her, pressing the full length of his erect cock into her with one quick thrust.
Shelby pushed her hips up to meet him, urging Andre on as he pushed into her again, and again, and again.
Time was a thing of the past now. Shelby had no idea how long Andre thrust into her. It could have been hours or it could have been seconds. At some point, he flipped her over, pulling her on top of him until her legs straddled his strong thighs as she rode him, chasing her pleasure at the base of his cock.
Andre thrust up once more into her and Shelby threw her head back, curls tumbling down over her shoulders. She glanced out one of the picture windows and saw a pink glow burning on the horizon.
I think the sun is rising over Paris, she thought and then everything faded into the waves of pleasure that coursed over her body as Andre fucked up into her, driving her orgasm through her slight frame as morning dawned in the City of Lights.
***
Andre was gone when Shelby woke up the next morning, but there was a hastily scrawled note left on her bedside table.
Early morning meeting w/investors. See you tonight?
Shelby smiled at the note. Oh, Andre would definitely see her tonight.
She ordered a platter of pastries and coffee up to the room. Shelby was halfway through the carafe of coffee and a second croissant when she finally decided to check her phone.
Thirty-three missed text messages from Jackson Archer.
Oh, no.
Shelby quickly scrolled through them, but nothing seemed to be an emergency or anything life-threatening. It was just a series of drunk texts, each one getting progressively drunker, checking where she was, bragging about Svetlana, and then checking on her whereabouts again.
All the texts were from last night, except one. And that is the one that had Shelby worried.
From Jackson Archer: I need to talk to you. 911.
Shelby froze, a bite of croissant hanging out of her mouth. This wasn’t Jackson’s usual texting style. He was normally so casual, his texts were always full of emojis and abbreviations, but this one was different. Terse, cold, straight to the point. Something was wrong.
Shelby threw on her dress and glittery shoes, not caring that she’d have to do a walk of shame through Paris in an expensive designer dress, and sprinted out of Andre’s penthouse and into a waiting cab.
As the driver sped across town to Jackson’s Parisian flat—he owned real estate in almost every major city in the world—Shelby took a moment to text Andre and Jackson.
To Andre Kennedy: Thanks for last night. I’ll text you soon?
To Jackson Archer: On my way. Don’t do anything until I get there.
The taxi screeched to a halt in front of Jackson’s building and Shelby lurched out, throwing a handful of bills—way too much money—to the driver, and dashed inside.
When she arrived upstairs, Jackson was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest and staring blankly ahead. Shelby had never seen him like this. She’d seen Jackson drunk, she’d seen him angry, she’d seen him hung-over. But she’d never seen her boss looking so…defeated.
“Mr. Archer?” Shelby asked, hovering nervously in the doorway. “Are you all right?”
Jackson didn’t answer, just shook his head.
This was bad, really bad.
“Mr. Archer?” Shelby finally entered the room, crossed to Jackson and wrapped her arms around him.
She didn’t think that he would accept the hug but, much to her surprise, Jackson just relaxed into her and dropped his lovely dark head on to her shoulder.
“Jackson?” she tried once more and this time he responded.
“Shelby,” he said, voice muffled by her shoulder. “Someone from the board of directors called me this morning. Apparently, someone found out that we had some Archer Enterprise shares coming available and they bought them before we could reacquire them.”
“What are you saying, Jackson?”
“I’m saying that I no longer own the majority of Archer Enterprises.”
Shelby’s mouth fell open in surprise. She knew that the stock reacquisition was an important deal, but she had no idea that it might mean that Jackson could lose control of the company.
“Oh, Jackson, no,” she muttered, holding him tight like a child. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”
“We don’t even know what happened, Shelby,” Jackson continued. “I was on this, I was so on this, and then…blindsided.”
Shelby held Jackson as he explained how things went down. They’d been set to require the shares this morning, but when Archer Enterprises brokers approached the seller, he’d already sold to an anonymous buyer.
“How did he get the contact info for the seller, Shelby?” Jackson whined. “I mean, I had that info. Don, our broker, he had that info. And you had it.”
“Me?” Shelby froze.
“Yeah, you were cc’d on all those messages,” Jackson said. “They’re all probably still in your inbox, unless you deleted them.”
Shelby’s stomach dropped to the floor. They were in her inbox, all her emails were currently stored in the cloud, so she’d have them available on all her devices: her laptop, her tablet…her phone.
Her phone.
Which had spent the night in Andre’s penthouse. Which would have been easily accessible to anyone in the penthouse, whether that was Andre or a different member of his staff.
There was no other explanation. Andre had used her.
***
Shelby held Jackson, her brain whirling through possible solutions, but none of them made any sense. It had to be the most obvious answer: Andre had invited her to Paris, wooed her and then fucked her, all so he could get his hands on the top-secret business info on her phone.
That bastard.
For so long, Shelby had admired Andre, compared Jackson’s behavior and business acumen to Andre’s and she’d been wrong—so, so wrong—to do that. Andre was perfect on the outside, but inside, he was a lying, manipulative scumbag.
And she was beginning to think she’d horribly underestimated Jackson.
Her boss—Jackson Archer, cocky playboy and general pain in the ass—was now huddled in her arms, trembling like a small child. She had to tell him the truth, she knew she did, but it was so hard to open her mouth and be honest about her part in this.
“Mr. Archer,” she began, but Jackson cut her off.
“Mr. Archer is my father, Shelby,” he said. “My father was an excellent businessman and I…I don’t deserve to share his name. Just call me Jackson. Please.”
Shelby took a deep breath. This was going to be harder than she had imagined. “Jackson, I need to tell you something.”
She pulled away from him and Jackson sat up, gazing at her with his big blue eyes. He looked open, childlike. She’d never seen her boss without his snarky, shit-eating grin. This wasn’t the man she knew and disdained.
“You do?” he whispered. “Shelby, there’s something I need to tell you, too—”
“Mr. A
rcher—”
“Jackson.”
“All right,” Shelby conceded. “Jackson. Please let me go first.”
Jackson shook his head. “No, Shelby. I think I know what you’re going to say or, or a variation on the theme, so please. Let me go first.”
Shelby really, really doubted that he knew what she was going to say, but she’d been taking instructions from the men of the Archer family for so long, following along was an instinct.
“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Jackson said. “For being such a shit to you these last few years.”
There were a lot of things that Shelby thought Jackson might say, but this definitely wasn’t one of them.
“I know what people think of me, what my father thought of me and I, I don’t know. I guess I was just trying to live up to all their negative expectations,” Jackson admitted, running a hand through his thick black waves. “But you…”
“Me?” Shelby had an idea where this was going and was beyond shocked.
“Do you remember when my father made you be my date to that gala? When I was dating that actress and he freaked out?”
Oh, Shelby definitely remembered.
“Well, you took care of me that night, Shelby. You looked after me, you got mad at me when I said something shitty, you actually made sure I got home safely,” Jackson said. “You were the first person to ever really call me out on my shit, or the first woman anyway. Most of them are content to just let me misbehave, act like an idiot. They don’t care if I’m safe or happy or whatever, they just want me for my money. But you, Shelby, you never gave two shits about Jackson Archer Jr., billionaire bad boy. You cared about Jackson, a guy who was making some really bad choices and I…I appreciated that.”
Shelby chose her next words carefully. “Then why did you continue to…behave badly even after your father died? You could have made any choice you wanted, you were in charge of the company. You didn’t have to keep being an idiot, Jackson.”
Jackson laughed, low and thin, but at least it was a laugh. That was one step toward getting the old Jackson back.
“I love it when you call me an idiot, Shelby.” Jackson said, reaching one hand out to stroke along the edge of her jawline.
Something else clicked into place for Shelby.
“Jackson—” she started.
“I love you, Shelby,” Jackson finally admitted, and Shelby froze. “I think I’ve loved you ever since I almost threw up on you at that first party, but I didn’t realize it then. I realize it now, though, and I’ll be damned if I let you—”
This was all too much for Shelby. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she needed Jackson to stop talking. Immediately. And there was only one surefire way of doing that.
She shoved Jackson back on the bed threw herself on top of him, stopping his mouth with her kiss. She could feel his lips form a brief ‘O’ of surprise before they relaxed into the kiss, pressing back against her with a sweet tenderness.
Jackson explored the kiss, losing himself in her mouth as his tongue desperately chased hers. When Shelby was sure his attention was elsewhere, she deftly unbuckled his belt and tugged his trousers down around his thighs.
“Shelby?” he asked, pulling away for a brief moment to suck in air. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, stroking the outline of his cock through his thin boxers. “Tell me I can do this?”
“Do what?” Jackson whispered, eyes big.
Shelby slid her hand into his boxers and wrapped her clever fingers around his thick shaft. “This,” she murmured, sliding her hand up and down with surprising ease.
“Y-yes!” he stammered. “Yes, you can definitely do that, Shelby.”
She pulled her hand free for a moment and offered her palm to Jackson. “Lick,” she commanded and Jackson eagerly lapped at her palm, providing all the lubrication that she’d need to properly take care of his hard, needy dick.
When her palm was slick with Jackson’s spit, she slipped back inside his boxers and took him in hand once again. Jackson fell back on the bed, writhing in pleasure and she sat above him, tugging him toward orgasm.
“Shelby!” he moaned. “Shelby, oh my god. Don’t stop! Don’t stop, please…”
Shelby increased her strokes, twisting her wrist slightly as she reached the tip, teasing the head with each twist.
Jackson moaned and thrashed on the bed, hands balled up in the sheets as he gripped the linens to ground himself.
“Shelby,” he said again, voice low and scratchy. “Shelby, I’m so close but I need…”
“What do you need?” Shelby whispered in his ear.
“I need… I need…” Jackson stammered.
“What, baby?”
“I need you to say my name,” he finished.
Shelby took a deep breath. That was not what she was expecting at all. “Jackson,” she said finally and he thrust his cock up into her fist, moaning in delight at the sound of his name falling from her lips.
“Jackson,” Shelby said again and was rewarded with another shuddering moan. Shelby opened up then, repeating herself, driving Jackson closer and closer to the edge with the lightning fast ministrations of her hand and the repetition of his own name.
With a cry, he threw his head back and came, white droplets of his release spurting over Shelby’s tight fist. He cried out again as Shelby coaxed the last of his orgasm from his exhausted cock, then she released him, wiping her hands on the disheveled bed linens.
A moment passed, then another. Finally, Jackson propped himself up on one arm and gazed admiringly down at Shelby, still wearing her rumpled ball gown.
“That was incredible,” he whispered down at her. “I love you, Shelby.”
“Jackson,” she said, but he cut her off with a kiss.
“I love the sound of you saying my name, Shel,” he said, then dove back into the kiss. Shelby knew that she needed to say something, let him know about her betrayal, but his mouth felt so good against hers, his lips so soft as they left her mouth and nibbled down her throat, across her collarbone, down…
“Jackson, I need to tell you something,” she blurted, sitting up abruptly.
“What?” he asked warily.
“Jackson, I—”
A knock sounded on the door to the flat.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Jackson asked wryly.
Shelby shook her head. “Nope.”
As Jackson buried his naked self under the covers, Shelby straightened her dress, making herself as appropriate-looking as humanly possible, then crossed the flat to the front door.
There, on the other side of the threshold, stood Andre Kennedy, fists clenched at his sides and dark eyes nearly black with anger.
“How dare you,” he hissed, glaring at Shelby like she was nothing but a piece of dirt on his shoe.
***
Shelby stood there for a moment, completely confused. The emotions of the morning had been a bit of a rollercoaster, but she eventually remembered where she’d left things with Andre. They were good or, rather, they were good as far as Andre was concerned. He didn’t know that she knew that he’d played her for a fool.
If anything, she should be the one standing on his doorstep and yelling at him.
“How dare I?” Shelby replied, throwing his words back at him. “More like ‘how dare you, Andre?’”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Shelby,” Andre replied. “I know exactly what you’ve been up to, you manipulative, treacherous—”
“Is everything okay, Shel?” Jackson padded out of the bedroom, dressed only in his discarded pair of boxers.
Andre’s face contorted as he took in the sight of a nearly-naked Jackson and Shelby, still dressed in her gown from the previous night.
“I knew it,” Andre stuttered. “I fucking knew it, man.”
“Andre,” Shelby went to him, hands outstretched. He was so mad at her. She was so mad at him. He was probably experiencing so many new emotions—betrayal, disappoin
tment, requited affection—that his head was likely to explode in confusion.
But the fact remained that Andre had used her.
“Congratulations on your new stock acquisition, Mr. Kennedy,” Shelby said coolly.
“Excuse me?” Andre shot back.
“Wait, what?” Jackson said.
In the middle of distracting Jackson with sex, Shelby might have forgotten all the things her boss didn’t know.
“Jackson, this is what I have to tell you—” Shelby began, then launched into the whole story. Andre wooing her, deliberately bringing a date that Jackson would be distracted by, taking her to bed and then stealing the information from her phone.
“—and that’s everything,” she finished. “Andre screwed us both, I guess.”
Jackson looked at her, blue eyes full of hurt. “You…slept with him, Shel?”
That was not the thing that Shelby expected him to be most upset about that.
“Jackson, I didn’t know—” she began.
“Bullshit,” Andre snapped, cutting her off. “Both of you are so full of bullshit, I cannot even stand it.”
“What the hell are you even talking about, Andre?” Shelby snapped. Jackson was still looking at her, his expression sad.
“Nice try with the ‘corporate espionage’ game, Shelby,” Andre continued. “But we all know that it’s you who got all up in my shit. Care to explain to me why my investment in Paris Global was denied this morning?”
Shelby just stared at him. Paris Global was the firm that they’d met with yesterday, but she didn’t do anything that would have messed up Andre’s business deal with them. Or, at least she thought she hadn’t.
Andre explained that he was set to be the final investor in the project, but when his lawyers had called to broker the deal this morning, they’d discovered that the Paris Global people had already struck a deal with a different investor. One who had outbid Andre by the slightest margin.
“It’s like they knew exactly what my investment was going to be,” Andre glared. “And then they upped their bid until they were higher. I wonder where they got that information, Shelby?”
“Jackson?” she asked. “Did we do anything to mess up Andre’s deal this morning.”
