Endorsed

by Marni Mann

  And except for the suit he’d worn tonight. It was navy, and he’d paired it with a crisp white button-down, a striped tie, and brown leather shoes.

  He didn’t just act the part.

  He dressed it, too.

  “Get over here,” he growled.

  I got to the end of the bed and said, “What are you going to do to me, handsome?” I smiled, excited to hear his response.

  “I’m going to fucking devour you.”

  I’d been wet since he started touching me at the bar. It was just casual then—a quick skim of his thumb across my cheek, a grasp of my thigh, a hold of my lower back. But, now, the anticipation of what he was going to do was making my body scream.

  “You’re a naughty man, Jack Hunt.”

  “Naughty doesn’t happen until I rip off those panties and put my tongue on your pussy.”

  Oh God.

  “Then, what are you waiting for?”

  “Get on the bed.”

  It was an order. One that was full of lust and passion and dominance.

  I pressed my hands onto the mattress, and my knees followed. I began to crawl, and when I reached the halfway point, he gripped me under my arms and flipped me onto my back, moving between my legs.

  “Yes,” I moaned.

  He hadn’t even really touched me yet.

  “I want your fucking pussy.” He tugged at the sides of my lace panties until there was a hole, and then he shredded them off me, his mouth immediately covering my clit. “You taste so good.” With one long stroke of his tongue, I heard, “Mmm, I can’t get enough of it.”

  The back of my head ground into the pillow, my hands clenched the blanket, and I groaned. I couldn’t believe how amazing this felt, that a man’s tongue could feel as good as his dick.

  Only one other guy’s mouth had ever been in that spot. Whatever he had done was nothing like what Jack was doing right now.

  Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any better, he stuck a finger inside me.

  I bucked from the sensation, the orgasm now within a few licks, and he was relentlessly swiping across my clit.

  “More,” I begged even though I had no idea what more would even feel like.

  He filled me with another finger.

  His flicking then turned faster, the orgasm pounding through me. My body quivered with each ripple that passed, and I heard myself shout after every wave.

  He knew when I’d calmed because he pulled his mouth away, and he flipped me onto my stomach, quickly jumping off the bed for a few seconds before he moved in behind me, his face leaning into my neck. “Did that feel good?”

  “Yes.”

  I heard the tearing of foil. “I can make you feel even better.”

  I moaned again, unsure of how that was even possible. “Your fingers. Your tongue.” I shuddered. “If your dick is anything like them, I don’t doubt it.”

  He laughed, and his whiskers scratched my cheek and shoulder, the skin so sensitive in those places that, “Ahhh,” came hissing out of my mouth.

  After roughing them up, he kissed both spots, and then he slowly traveled down my spine. “Patience. You’re going to get what you want. But, right now, I’m still getting what I want.” He continued to go lower until he reached my ass where he licked around the edge, skipping the middle to move to the other side. “Fucking perfect,” he groaned, squeezing the bottom of my cheeks with his hands.

  I gripped the feather pillow so hard.

  Jack was so giving, so attuned to what I wanted, what I needed.

  I’d never had anything like that before.

  Nor had I had this kind of teasing, waiting for a surprise every time his mouth landed on my skin.

  And it all felt so unbelievably good.

  “Do you want me?” His voice vibrated across my skin.

  That was the hottest question I’d ever been asked.

  His lips were at the top of my ass, moving toward my side.

  “Yes.”

  In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted something this badly. My pussy was throbbing, there was pressure in my clit that needed to be released, and I couldn’t get the thought of his hands and tongue out of my head.

  “Then, tell me, Samantha.”

  He licked me again. This time, in the middle of my back, followed by a kiss and a quick swipe of his tongue.

  “Oh God, Jack.”

  “Is your cunt nice and wet for me?”

  I didn’t even have to check. I could feel it on my inner thighs and on the blanket as it rubbed against me. “I’m dripping.”

  “Mmm, that’s just what I want.”

  I barely had time to take a breath before his cock was at my entrance, and it was plunging straight inside me.

  “Ahhh,” I moaned so loudly.

  He was so large, so hard, and he moved with so much force and speed. After several thrusts, he slowed, pulling all the way out, pausing for several seconds before going back in.

  I could feel the build coming on right away, especially as he twisted his hips when he was completely buried, reaching a spot no one had touched before.

  That triggered a whole different kind of pleasure.

  “Jack…”

  “I fucking love it when you say my name.”

  “Harder,” I demanded.

  His face was in my neck, and I felt each breath he took, each groan, each nip he bit along my ear. “You’re so tight, you’re squeezing my tip every time I pull out.” He held my hair in his hand and used it to lean my head back, giving him more access to my neck. “Do you want to come again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, beg me.”

  My clit was grinding against the blanket. His cock was so deep inside me, there were sparks pulsing through my body. I was seconds away from losing it, and I swore, he could tell.

  “I want to come,” I cried. “Please, Jack. Oh God, please let me come.”

  “Those are the words I wanted to hear.” His speed doubled, and so did his strength. His hips twisted in a circle as he got to the base, thrusting right back in when he reached his crown. “Your pussy is squeezing my cock, so I can feel how close you are.” He put his mouth to the side of my face. “Fucking kiss me.”

  I turned my head, and I was immediately hit with his lips. His tongue touched mine, and the most sexual taste filled my mouth.

  I didn’t know how, but his power became more intense, now reaching the deepest part of me.

  “Jack,” I moaned.

  This orgasm wasn’t as quick and sharp as the first time he’d gotten me off.

  This time, it was a slow, violent flare that didn’t rush. It gradually dragged through my body, giving pleasure to each of my limbs before it sat in my navel and caused me to tremble.

  “Fuck yes.” He pulled his mouth away but stayed close, his teeth gnawing on my shoulder. “You’re going to make me come.”

  I began to meet his strokes, my ass pushing back every time he slid forward, the orgasm still working its way through me.

  “That’s it, baby,” he urged. “Just like that.” I met him again and again until I heard him yell, “Samantha! Fuck!”

  I loved how sexy he sounded as he came.

  I loved how his strokes turned more aggressive.

  And I loved how we both stilled at the same time.

  Staying inside me, he kissed across my cheek until he reached my mouth where he moaned, “You’re fucking incredible.”

  Me: Thanks for the most amazing three days and the most memorable trip to NYC. I just landed in Miami. Maybe I can come to LA in a few weeks to see you.

  Jack: Hey, Samantha. It was a great couple of days for me, too, but it’s time for us to return to our normal lives. I don’t think LA is a good idea. Maybe I’ll see you at one of your brother’s games.

  Me: Okay…is everything all right?

  Me: If you’re worried I’ll say something to my brother, don’t be. I wouldn’t ever say anything. I just…miss you. That’s why I’ve be
en texting so much.

  Jack: Samantha, I know you promised never to discuss what happened that night in my hotel room, and I really appreciate that you haven’t. You’re a beautiful girl, and it’s a few days I’ll never forget. But, now that I’ve thought about our time together, I’ve realized it was a mistake. One that can never happen again. Your brother is my top client. I can’t jeopardize that. Therefore, my relationship with his family has to stay professional. I’m sorry. Best of luck with your classes this semester. —Jack

  Me: Jack, I need you to call me. I really need to talk to you.

  Me: Jack, I’ve left you three voice mails. Please call me.

  Me: I’ve left you six voice mails, three emails, countless texts. All I want is to talk to you.

  Jack: I’ve gotten all of your messages. I’ve been extremely busy. Samantha, what happened between us has to stay in the past. I need you to stop contacting me and move on with your life. You can never be more than my client’s little sister.

  Me: Got it. Loud and clear. You won’t ever hear from your client’s little sister again.

  1

  Jack

  “Ruuun!” I shouted at the TV.

  I dropped my legs from the ottoman and moved to the edge of the couch while I watched Tennessee’s running back make a fucking beeline for the end zone.

  It was the divisional round playoffs, and they were up against San Diego, down by two touchdowns with nine minutes left in the fourth.

  Tennessee’s coach had been calling the wrong plays the whole game. I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. But, finally, he had called something the players could work with and they looked like they were gaining some momentum.

  “That’s it,” I said to the TV. “Twenty more yards. You’ve got this.”

  My star tight end, Shawn Cole, had tweaked his hamstring a few days ago during practice, and he wasn’t in tonight’s game. Even though Tennessee’s offense was strong without him, I could feel Shawn’s absence, and I was sure San Diego could feel it, too.

  “Ten more yards,” Brett said from the other side of the couch. “He needs to run faster; they’re right on his fucking tail.”

  I agreed.

  I reached for my beer and held it to my lips, swallowing until it was gone.

  “Jesus,” Max said from the cushion next to mine. “It’s about time their offense woke up.”

  The running back reached the end zone, and I put my beer down and clapped my goddamn hands together. “Down by one. Now, we need an interception.”

  Max took a bite of his pizza and said, “If San Diego scores on the next drive, it’s going to take some aggressive offense to even this shit out, and Tennessee hasn’t been playing aggressively at all.”

  “We’ve seen teams score with less than ten seconds left,” Scarlett said, sitting between Brett and Max. “We have plenty of time to win this.”

  Brett, Max, and Scarlett, my best friends and business partners, were as invested in this game as I was. That was because, the further Tennessee advanced in the playoffs, the larger Shawn’s bonus would be. As his agent, I would get a piece of that, and so would The Agency, the company the four of us had opened six years ago.

  Even though I represented some of the top athletes in the world, Shawn was ranked one of the highest, and he’d never made it to the Super Bowl. He deserved the championship, and this year, he was so fucking close to playing in it.

  “Tennessee’s defense is finally stepping it up,” Brett said after the first play. “We need to keep them from getting in field goal range.”

  “You think they’ll go for three and not seven?” Max asked.

  “They have one of the best kickers in the league,” Brett replied.

  Scarlett held open the pizza box and said, “Who needs a slice?”

  Brett took one, but I shook my head. “I just need beer.”

  “I’m empty, too,” Max said. “I’ll grab us some.” He walked over to the bar that I’d had built in my living room, opened the fridge, and handed me one.

  I screwed off the cap and brought it up to my lips just as a flag was thrown. “What kind of fucking call was that?”

  “Fifteen yard penalty and automatic first down,” the ref said.

  “I can’t fucking watch this.” I got up from the couch and moved into the kitchen, pacing around the goddamn island, hearing the TV but not turning toward it.

  Had Miami not played this afternoon, I probably would have gone to Tennessee to see Shawn and to watch the game. But the Dolphins quarterback was looking for a new agent now that his contract with his current one was almost up. Agents from all over the country had been pitching him this week. And, after his game today, I had as well, bringing my partners with me so that he could meet the whole team and get a feel for us.

  The Dolphins were having an after-party in South Beach tonight, and the quarterback had invited us to go. As a company, we had decided it was important for all of us to be there. That was the only reason I hadn’t taken The Agency’s private jet to Tennessee to watch the game. And, since Shawn was sitting this one out, I knew it was all right that I missed it.

  “Third and six,” Scarlett announced, like I couldn’t fucking hear the TV.

  If Tennessee lost to San Diego, Shawn would blame himself. He was so competitive, so dedicated; he gave everything to that team.

  And, when he’d tweaked his hamstring, I knew it would cause him to have to sit this one out. Shawn didn’t believe that. He thought he could fight through the pain and convince the team doctor to clear him for the game.

  Minutes before the players had gone out on the field, Shawn had called me to see if there was anything I could do to change the doctor’s mind. He knew damn well he could injure himself even worse. I didn’t care if he was willing to take that risk. I wasn’t, and his coaches weren’t either.

  “Interception.”

  I stopped circling the kitchen and faced the living room. “What?”

  “Interception,” Max called out again. “Tennessee’s ball.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  But I could tell he wasn’t because the announcers were shouting, and the crowd was roaring. And, now, the commentators were explaining how it had happened, at what yard line, and who had caught the ball.

  “You have to come in here and watch this,” Brett said.

  I circled around the rest of the island and moved into the living room. “We have a chance,” I sighed, sitting in the same seat as before. “We finally have a fucking chance.”

  Scarlett laughed. “I’m pretty sure I already told you this.”

  Max looked at Scarlett and me and said, “There’s still seven minutes left. Let’s just hope they’ve found their rhythm.”

  “It only took them three and a half quarters,” Brett mocked.

  “Listen,” Scarlett said, “they’ve found it, and that’s all that matters right now.”

  “They need—”

  I was cut off when Max stood from the couch and shouted at the tight end, “Run! Run that fucking ball!”

  “Forty yards,” I said, counting each white line he passed. “Thirty-seven.”

  “He’s going to make it,” Scarlett cheered.

  “How are you so sure?” Brett asked her.

  “Look at how fast he’s going.” She pointed at the screen. “There isn’t a single person on that field who has that kind of speed.”

  There was a player gaining traction on our tight end, and it worried the hell out of me.

  “He needs to watch out for number fifty-four,” I said. “He’s about to be right on his ass.”

  “Twenty yards,” Max said.

  “Trust me,” Scarlett told us all, “he’s got this.”

  “If Tennessee scores, I’m skipping the Dolphins party, and I’m taking Scarlett to the casino,” Max said.

  “You’re not skipping the party,” Scarlett snapped. “That’s the whole reason we’re not in Tennessee right now.”

  “Ten
yards,” I said.

  “You know, I really should have bet the three of you that Tennessee would win this game. It would have made the next few minutes so much more interesting,” Scarlett said.

  “Touchdown,” the announcer said.

  I could finally take a goddamn breath.

  But I only had time for one. There was still six and a half minutes left in the game. That gave San Diego plenty of time to take the lead again.

  When the TV switched to a commercial, Scarlett asked Brett, “When is James flying back?”

  James Ryne, an Oscar-winning actress and one of the coolest girls I knew, was Brett’s fiancée. She was also his client—something that hadn’t changed and wouldn’t now that they were engaged. She split her time between Miami and wherever she was filming, and that meant Brett spent more time on the road, so he could see her.

  “Tomorrow,” Brett replied.

  “And Eve?” Scarlett asked Max.

  “Not sure,” he said. “Not for at least a few more weeks.”

  Eve Kennedy was James’s best friend, a celebrity stylist, and Max’s girlfriend. She lived in LA and traveled all over the world for her clients. Max didn’t see her as often as he’d like, and I knew that was becoming tough for him.

  Scarlett and I didn’t have to worry about any of that shit because we were both single.

  Most of that was due to me working so damn much. It was almost impossible to date women outside my industry. None of them understood the time I dedicated to my clients or the schedule I had to maintain to make sure they were successful.

  Unlike Brett, who ran our acting division, and Max, who managed the music department, I worked with mostly men. Therefore, I didn’t have the luxury of being around beautiful women who were sympathetic because they put in as many hours as me. And no amount of time was ever enough for the ladies I’d been with in the past. So, I kept things casual, I focused on my athletes, and I built The Agency’s sports division to the highest-grossing in the country.