The Casanova (The Miles High Club)

by T L Swan

  “Hello, Park Avenue Florist,” the girl answers.

  “Can I send some flowers as a matter of urgency please?”

  “Sure. We can deliver that in an hour, where to?”

  “Kathryn Landon, Miles Media building, level ten.”

  “What would you like to send?”

  “Ummmm.” I think for a moment. “What would you suggest for . . . to get out of . . .”

  “An apology?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, how big an apology do you need?”

  “Pretty big.” I roll my eyes. “The biggest you’ve got.”

  “Okay, so red roses?”

  “I guess.”

  “A dozen.”

  I frown. “Umm . . . stubborn kind of woman.”

  “Four dozen?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Okay, and what do you want the card to say.”

  “Hmm.” I think for a moment. “Maybe just, ‘I’m sorry.’”

  That’s so lame.

  “Okay.” I can hear her typing. “Four dozen red roses and ‘I’m sorry’ on the card.”

  “Yes.”

  “Name?”

  I frown as I think; I really should come up with something witty but I can’t think straight when she’s angry with me. “‘Love, Elliot.’”

  Damn her.

  She’s got me by the balls, and she fucking knows it.

  “So, ‘I’m sorry, love Elliot’?” she asks as she checks the details.

  “Yes. Can you call me as soon as they’ve been delivered, please?”

  “Of course, sir.” I pay her with my credit card and I hang up and wait.

  An hour and four glasses of Scotch later, my phone rings. “Yes.”

  “The roses have been delivered, sir.”

  “Did she receive them?”

  “Yes, signed for them herself.”

  “Thank you.” I hang up and roll my lips; this could go either way. I dial Kate’s number.

  “Yes,” she answers.

  I clench my jaw at the sound of her voice. She wants to fight. “Hello Kathryn.”

  “What do you want, Elliot?”

  “I . . .” I hesitate as I think what to say. “I wanted to see if you got your roses.”

  “I did, thank you. However, there aren’t enough roses on earth to make up for your behavior.”

  I roll my eyes. Did she even read the fucking card? “I’m sorry.”

  She stays silent.

  “I acted appallingly and I regret it.”

  She stays silent.

  “But in my defense, this could have been easily avoided. Why didn’t you just tell him that you had a boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, Elliot, you have made that quite clear.”

  “Well, maybe you do,” I spit.

  I scrunch up my face. Shit.

  “Well, maybe my boyfriend is a fucking idiot.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “And maybe he better get his act together or else he’s getting dumped.”

  I smirk. “Maybe you should be quiet now?”

  “Don’t shush me, Elliot, and so help me God if you fucking ever flirt with someone in another language in front of me again—”

  I cut her off. “You know I was only doing it to make you jealous.”

  “It didn’t work.”

  I can tell she’s smiling, I’ve nearly got her. “Maybe a little.”

  “Elliot,” she snaps. “I swear to God, if you ever pull a stunt like that again . . .”

  “Did you miss me last night?” I ask. “Because I missed you.”

  “No, and I’m very busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Putting your roses through the shredder.”

  I chuckle, I wouldn’t put it past her. “I have an art auction tonight, I’ll come over after.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow night.”

  I sip my Scotch. I don’t want to get off the phone, this damn woman has me like a puppy. “Am I forgiven?” I ask.

  “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Elliot. I’ll think about it.”

  I smile and I know that I am.

  I hear someone talk to her in her office. “Who are they from?”

  “My boyfriend,” she replies.

  I wince . . . fuck . . . boyfriend, how did that happen? Slipped that one in under the radar, didn’t she?

  “Call me later.” She sighs.

  “Okay.” I hang on the line.

  “Goodbye Elliot.” She hangs up and I smile into my glass.

  Mission accomplished.

  I stare at the painting on the easel in front of me.

  Immortal

  “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I say to Christopher as he stands beside me.

  He scrunches up his nose, unimpressed. “Hmm . . . I don’t even know what you see in this artist. It’s just a painting to me.”

  “Harriet Boucher is not just an artist, Christopher. She’s a genius.”

  He rolls his eyes. “If you say so.” He glances at his watch. “How long is this going to take, I’m fucking starving.”

  “The auction starts in twenty minutes.”

  I look up across the crowd and I see the ballerina. My heart skips a beat.

  She’s blonde and beautiful, a frequent visitor at art auctions, but she has always eluded me.

  I have no idea if she’s an actual ballerina, but seeing as we don’t have a name for her, we’ve nicknamed her that.

  What is it about this woman?

  I’ve always gotten the feeling that I should know her, that she is somehow connected to something, although just what that is, I just don’t know.

  Our eyes are locked across the crowded room, the air between us swirls with electricity.

  Tonight, she seems different, her big eyes hold mine.

  She’s not running, she’s not trying to escape; if anything, she’s trying to silently will me over.

  I inhale a steady breath and drop my head.

  Fuck . . . perfect timing.

  On any normal day I’d be over there, pursuing her and persuading her to have dinner with me. Making myself known to her and wanting to know all about her.

  I’ve always seen her across the room in the heat of an auction battle, but never once gotten to speak to her. She always disappears before I can find her. I’ve wanted her for so long. But it’s different now.

  Kate.

  My beautiful Kate is at home waiting for me and I am not going to fuck this up, so I drag my eyes from the ballerina and focus on the painting.

  I can feel her looking at me.

  “Holy fuck, look who’s here,” Christopher whispers. “It’s her.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and try not to look.

  “Oh my God, she’s fucking perfect,” he whispers.

  My eyes flick up to her, and he’s right, she is perfect.

  I clench my jaw and drag my eyes away again.

  “What are you doing, get the fuck over there,” he whispers. “This is your chance, she’s not running tonight.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “What?” He frowns. “Since when?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I whisper angrily as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Why now, of all the times in the world she could want to talk to me . . . it has to be now, doesn’t it?

  “What’s wrong with you?” frowns Christopher. “You’ve wanted her for years. Go fucking get her.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  I don’t need this shit.

  The auctioneer walks into the room and I am momentarily distracted. I look back over to the ballerina and she’s gone. This time, instead of disappointment, I’m relieved.

  Good . . . fuck off back to wherever you came from, I don’t need temptation. Even if it is from someone that I’ve wanted for a long time.

&
nbsp; I think of my girl at home and my heart swells.

  I’m with Kate.

  KATE

  My phone buzzing on the bedside table wakes me and I scramble to answer it. “Hello.”

  “I’m out the front,” Elliot’s deep voice says.

  “I thought I wasn’t seeing you tonight.”

  “You thought wrong, open the door.”

  I make my way downstairs and open the door and there he stands. Sexy suit, gorgeous smile, and enough charisma to light up space. He takes me into his arms and kisses me. “Hi there.”

  “What happened to seeing me tomorrow?” I ask.

  “One night without you was bad, two nights is intolerable.”

  I smile against his lips and take his hand and lead him up the stairs. If the truth be told, I missed him too.

  I get back into bed and he sits on the side and stares down at me with a soft smile.

  He’s different.

  “What?”

  “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks softly.

  I smile. “We’re not having sex tonight, just so you know.”

  He chuckles as he leans in to kiss me, and his lips take mine with such tenderness that I feel all my defenses fly out of the window.

  He kisses me deep and slow and oh . . . maybe we should fight more often. “I’m going to take a quick shower, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.”

  He kisses me again as he holds my face and I nearly lift out of the bed.

  He’s just so . . .

  He has a shower and ten minutes later he walks out in a white towel, his perfect body on display in the moonlit room. He drops his towel and I swallow the lump in my throat. No matter how many times I see him naked, it always floors me to see how gorgeous he is.

  He pulls back the covers and climbs in beside me. He lies up on his elbow and kisses me, long and slow and oh God . . .

  His big, powerful body is snug up against mine, his teeth graze my neck and his hard length rubs up against my panties in just the right spot.

  For a long time, we kiss in the darkness, as if we have all the time in the world, and something about him making the boyfriend commitment has amped up my arousal tenfold.

  His large body rolls over mine and I pant as he writhes between my legs, grinding me into the mattress. My hands roam all over his muscular back as he stares down at me.

  He’s hot, hard, and ready to fuck.

  And good God, I come just from the way he’s looking at me.

  His breath quivers on the inhale and I know he’s close to the edge of control. I wrap my legs around his thick body and he pushes forward, his hard dick running over my clitoris, adding more heat to the already burning inferno.

  “I need you.” He breathes against my neck; his hands knead my breasts with force.

  He pushes forward, his cock coming dangerously close to breaking through the material of my panties.

  “Elliot.”

  “Fuck. Kathryn,” he whispers as if in pain. “You want me to beg? I’ll fucking beg.”

  I stare up at him.

  “I need it,” he moans as his lips take mine. “Please.” His eyes close as we kiss and I know he’s right here with me.

  I need this intimacy too.

  We stare at each other and, without a further word, he takes my panties off and he slides in deep.

  Our eyes are locked in the darkness, his body deep inside of mine. His eyes flutter shut as he loses control; he tenderly moves inside of me, with care, so much tenderness and sheer adoration . . . I slip into the abyss.

  “El,” I whimper.

  “I know, baby.” He kisses me with his eyes closed. The emotion between us is palpable. A tangible force that we no longer control.

  This is special. He is special.

  Elliot Miles is everything I never knew I needed, and regardless of our differences I can’t deny it.

  I am utterly and irrevocably in love with him.

  ELLIOT

  I lean on my elbow as I watch her sleep.

  Her hair is splayed across the pillow as she lies on her side facing me, her bare breasts falling across her chest. I lean in and kiss her temple softly, the need to be closer to her almost primal.

  We crossed a boundary tonight, broke through some kind of invisible barrier.

  My heart is freefalling from my chest and I have no way of stopping it. Nor would I want to.

  What’s happening?

  I’ve never felt like this before.

  There’s no border between us; the separation of the two of us is blurred. She’s like an extension of my body . . . only, in a better way.

  She stirs and puts her hand out for me. “El,” she whispers.

  “I’m here, baby,” I whisper as I snuggle in closer, put my head on her chest.

  She smiles softly with her eyes closed and falls back to sleep.

  In the darkness, in her arms, I listen to her heartbeat.

  And I lose sight of mine.

  “Good morning, girls,” I say as I walk through reception.

  They look up from their tasks. “Good morning, Mr. Miles.”

  Christopher is standing at his office door. “Hey.”

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?” I smile.

  He frowns. “Not really.”

  “Oh.” I look out of the window and shrug. “Ah, but it’s not snowing, is it?”

  “Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy prick of a brother?” Christopher replies dryly. “It’s like the fucking Sound of Music around here.”

  The girls laugh and I walk into my office and unpack my computer as amusement fills me.

  “What’s going on?” I look up to see Christopher watching me as he leans on the doorjamb.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “Well, you’re up, you’re down, furious, then quiet, you’re like a one-man fucking circus.”

  I log into my computer. “A good night’s sleep is all we needed. I mean me,” I correct myself. “I slept well.”

  He walks in, suddenly interested. “No, you said ‘we.’”

  “I meant me.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He sits on the side of my desk. “You’re seeing someone aren’t you?”

  I type in my email login.

  “Who is she?”

  “None of your business. Get out.”

  Knock, knock: I glance up to see Kate standing at the door.

  Shit.

  “Morning, Kathryn,” I say, my eyes roaming down to her toes and back up to her face. Her fair hair is down and tucked behind one ear and her smile instantly lights up the room. She’s wearing a black, fitted pencil skirt and a cream, silk blouse; her top button is undone with just a hint of what’s underneath—perfection.

  I feel the blood as it rushes around my body.

  Was she always this hot . . . or do I see it more clearly now that I know what she does with those killer curves?

  I get a vision of her on top of me naked and I bite my bottom lip to push the pornographic thought away.

  “Is now a bad time, Mr. Miles?” she asks. “I have the report you’ve been waiting for.”

  “No.” Christopher smiles. “Come in, Kate. You can help me pry information out of him.”

  “Information?” She looks between us.

  “He seems to be in a very uncharacteristic good mood lately. I want to know what’s responsible.” He crosses his arms in front of him. “Or who?”

  “Oh.” A trace of a smile crosses her face. “I don’t think you have to worry, in no time he’ll return to his ogre self. Let’s enjoy the peace while we can.”

  “Fair call,” he agrees.

  “Just give me the report and get out, both of you.” I sigh as I throw a manila folder onto my desk.

  “Ah, there he is. Crisis averted.” Kathryn smiles. “Give it three minutes and he’ll be screaming the office down.”

  “Keep going and I will be,” I snap.

  Kathryn’s eyes dance with mischief as her eyes hold min
e.

  My cock throbs . . . stop it.

  What is it about this woman? She turns me into a horny schoolboy. “Are you staying for this meeting?” I ask Christopher.

  “No, I got my own shit to do.” He gets up and ambles out. “Do you want the door closed?”

  “Yes.” My eyes hold Kate’s. “Thank you.”

  Christopher leaves and I stand and walk to the door, flick the lock.

  Kate’s eyes widen. “Elliot, no,” she whispers.

  I walk toward her. “Telling me no is the ultimate aphrodisiac, Landon.” I grab her roughly on the behind and pull her toward me. I bite her bottom lip and drag her over my hard cock.

  “Stop,” she murmurs against my lips.

  “Do you really want me to stop?” I grab her hair aggressively and pull her face back to mine. “Or do you want me to take you into my bathroom and pump you full of come. Like the naughty employee you are.” I knead her breast with force as I bite her hard on the neck, and she throws her head back, granting me full access.

  Fuck I love these tits; her body was built for sin.

  My sin.

  “Elliot,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed, and I know that look.

  She wants it.

  I take her hand and drag her into the bathroom and close the door, fall onto the chair in the corner and in one quick movement, I unzip my fly and pull her skirt up. I pull her panties to the side and position myself at her entrance.

  I put my hands on her shoulders and slam her down onto me, stretching her tight body to the hilt.

  We fall silent as we stare at each other.

  “You’re a bad man, Mr. Miles,” she whispers.

  A slow smile crosses my face. “And you’re a dirty girl. Get those fucking legs up, Landon, and work my cock.” I bite her neck with force, the need to bruise her overwhelming.

  With dark eyes she brings her legs up and puts her feet on the chair, bringing her into a squatting position. She’s only just learned how to take me like this; my size was an issue and we had to work up to it.

  I feel every one of her muscles as they ripple around me, and it’s all I can do not to blow.

  We’re in my office for Pete’s sake . . . this isn’t good, but there’s no way in hell I can stop. My addiction to Kathryn Landon isn’t slowing down. Like a forest fire in a wind storm, I’m completely out of control.

  She fucks me.

  Hard, unbridled, and wet.