The CEO & I

by River Laurent

  I’m too shocked to even cry. I look up at the man who caught me and Chance grins at me. He turns toward Lars and gives him a thumbs-up sign before looking back at me.

  “For a yellow belly, that was one hell of a throw,” he comments coolly.

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Lars is going to get hurt,” I shout.

  Chance chuckles and turns me around so that I’m sitting on my butt. “Lars is a little rusty from years of sitting behind a desk, but he can take that green horn no problem.”

  “Will you help stop the fight?” I beg.

  He shakes his head. “I’d be fixing to do the same if someone disrespected my girl. It’ll teach that fancy city slicker a lesson.” He grins. He is about to say something when he looks down and notices the state of my scraped and bleeding knees. He pulls a face. “Oh, my own Aunt Mary, that don’t look good. I reckon Lars is gonna be hoppin’ mad when he sees that. Might as well let him get his pound of flesh off that tenderfoot now.”

  I have no choice but to sit and watch as Lars rains blows on the man’s body so quickly and so relentlessly, the ferocity of the attack overwhelms him.

  “Fast is good, but accurate is better,” Chance chuckles approvingly.

  One power punch from Lars catches Steven flush on the chin and he flies backwards, landing on one of the hay bales. The crowd hoots as if this is entertainment. Blood is pouring from the man’s nose. He pulls himself to a sitting position and looks around him with a dazed expression.

  Lars stands over him, his chest rising and falling quickly.

  “Lars, don’t,” I scream.

  He turns toward me, his eyes instantly connecting with mine, and I freeze. His face is clenched tight and his eyes cold and bloodshot with murderous rage. He looks like a crazed bull. I don’t even recognize him. I gasp with horror.

  “Please don’t,” I whisper again.

  He turns back to his opponent, grabs him by the collar, and drags him up. The man looks terrified. Then he punches him so hard in the jaw it sends him flying backward in an arch. He crashes into some bales of hay stacked in one corner of the room and lies unmoving in a tangle of limbs.

  Lars turns toward me. There is a cut over his eyebrow and it is bleeding. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. I close it and open it soundlessly like a fish.

  He strides toward me. “Heck, Tamara. I told you not to move.”

  I’m trying unsuccessfully to keep my tears at bay, but it’s getting impossible. “You were getting hurt,” I whine. My knees have started to sting, but they don’t hurt too bad. I’m sure I’ll be able to walk. I try to stand and my legs buckle under me. Lightning fast, Lars catches me around my waist. His eyes flicker up and down my body. Cursing, he lifts me into his arms and carries me out of the barn. Everybody is staring at us. Outside, the night is balmy.

  “I’m sorry,” he grates.

  “It’s okay,” I mumble, but I’m horrified by what has happened. Everybody in there has heard what the man said. Everybody in there thinks I was the main star in a sex tape. A tear slides down my cheek.

  “Oh, fuck,” he swears.

  “I’m not really crying. It’s just the shock of it.”

  “It’s all right, baby.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” I sob.

  “You didn’t,” he says, looking at me with sad eyes. “I don’t give a flying fuck what anybody thinks about you.”

  I want to hug him and apologize for the fight, but instead, I simply lay my head on his chest and allow him to carry me to the car.

  Chapter 39

  Cass

  “It’s nothing. I just scraped my knees,” I say softly as Lars pulls his entire medical kit from his bathroom closet. He lays every possible antiseptic spray and ointment on the counter along with gauzes, splints, and bandages.

  “I don’t want it to get infected,” he says, frowning.

  “Lars, I’m okay,” I persist, even though the sight of my knees all bloody and filled with hay and dirt fills even me with disgust. One knee looks worse than the other, but I can tell that they are both shallow. It’s not my physical wounds that hurt. It is what everyone must now think of me that really pains.

  “I’m cleaning your knees. It’s my fault you got hurt and I can’t even do anything about your wrist.”

  I look at my wrist, which is becoming blue.

  “How is it your fault?” I ask. “I’m the one who ran from you and jumped in between you two.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you walk off. Instead of listening to that fool Gary talk my ears off about his stupid tractor, I should have stayed with you. But I messed up and now you’re hurt.” His beautiful eyes look at me sadly.

  I stare at him, unsure of how to convince him that he’s wrong. This situation is entirely my fault—or rather, Tamara’s.

  If she hadn't starred in those sex tapes, that man wouldn’t have recognized me. If Tamara wasn’t such a bitch, my life could be so much simpler.

  “You ready for this?” he asks, holding up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. My eyes and mouth pop open when he pours it on my wounds. I watch it clean out all the dirt and hay from my cut. It hadn’t hurt much up until now.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he wipes the excess from around my leg.

  I shake my head and take a deep breath as the pain subsides. “It’s not your fault,” I repeat.

  Lars places a bandage with two different ointments over my less severe knee and sprays another antiseptic on the more damaged one. This one doesn’t hurt nearly as bad. Instead, it cools the pain temporarily. I watch as he works nimbly at retrieving a much larger bandage and gauze tape. He puts a few ointments on the bandage and carefully covers my knee with it. Once it’s covered, he wraps the gauze tape around the bandage to hold it in place.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. He nods his head and continues looking at the floor. I notice a small cut on his eyebrow where he got punched. I grab a small antiseptic wipe from the counter and dab it over his brow gently.

  He jerks back and I scowl sternly. “Hold still.”

  I gently tend to the cut and place a small amount of Neosporin on it. Lars continues staring at me, but I ignore him and finish by sticking a Band-Aid on it. He leans his head into my hand and his hair falls over my fingertips. The urge to grasp it in my fingers…

  I pause, trying to gain the control I need to finish the task at hand, but we both know that my control is gone.

  “I’m such a fucking pervert,” he whispers against my palm.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask curiously.

  “Because I’m horny as hell even after I’ve seen you look like you’ve been attacked by a fucking shark.”

  I giggle. “I scraped my knee, Lars.”

  “It looked far worse. I hated seeing you get hurt. I wanted to fucking kill him.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “About the sex tape-”

  His finger lands against my mouth and he shakes his head. There is some great hurt in his eyes. “I don’t want to know, Tamara. I can’t take it. Not now. Not tonight.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  My heart is beating so fast I hear it booming in my ears. I know what I want. Even if it is just one night. I want it. I’ll keep it in my heart for when I’m old. For when I am sitting in a rocking chair. That one night when I went to bed with the most beautiful man who ever walked God’s earth.

  Lars stands to his full height and lifts me from the sink. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his midsection as tightly as possible and meet his lips. He walks me backward and out of the bathroom into his bedroom.

  His lips drown all reasonable doubt.

  Lars carries me to his bed and lays me gently beneath him. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you,” he groans, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving nothing to my imagination.

  I pull his bare chest into mine and say something that I know he won’t be able to resist. “I’ve needed you on top of me for weeks.”
<
br />   With an animalistic sound originating from the back of his throat, Lars grabs the hem of my tank top and pulls it over my head. The flannel top falls over my arms and leaves me in nothing but a bra.

  I groan at the pure bliss I’m feeling and my small sound seems to excite him even more. He arches his back and presses himself into me, which causes a louder, more frenzied noise to escape my lips. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and pull at the tips of his hair while simultaneously pressing his head more tightly into mine. I can’t get close enough to him and closeness is what I need.

  Chapter 40

  Lars

  I kiss her lips again, unable to resist the fullness of them. “You feel so damned good.”

  I slip my fingertip underneath the lace of her bra. The nipple hiding under there is hard and full. I touch it gently and she arches into my hand, looking for more.

  I unbutton her little shorts and pull the zipper down slowly, teasing us both with the reveal. Sure enough, the panties match. My sister once said if a man undresses a woman and finds that her bra matches her panties, he’s played right into that woman’s hands. Fuck, I never wanted to play into a woman’s hands more.

  I lick along the top of the panties, right where they meet her skin. She gasps and clenches my hair with her hands. I pull her shorts down more and she wiggles her hips until they are down to her thighs. Carefully, I slide them lower without letting the material touch her knees. When I finally get them off, she lifts those long, smooth legs and teasingly, provocatively, spreads them wide.

  Hell! She’s showing me the sweet, wet heat at the center of her.

  I stare like a man transfixed at the wet patch as she lifts her hips until her sex is inches away from my nose. The heady scent of her arousal fills my nostrils.

  Like a wolf scenting the air, I inhale in quick bursts.

  She pulls back and my nose moves forward, following the intoxicating trail of her scent. Her hands skim lightly over her ribs and linger over the tops of her satiny breasts. She cups her breasts. I stare at her utterly riveted. Keeping her legs straight, she opens her thighs so her long, long legs make a fabulous V. The position is obscene and bewitching.

  She is good enough to eat.

  She holds the pose while I kiss and lick my way up her spread thighs. The crotch of her panties is completely soaked and I can see the puffy lips through the transparent material. I push my hand against it and the moan that comes from her almost makes me come in my pants.

  I pull the material to one side–I need to see all of her–and look at her pussy. Fuck me. I can’t take my eyes of it. So goddamn pink and sweet. God only knows how many pussies I have seen in my lifetime, but hers takes my breath away. I stare at the pink glistening whorls of wet flesh. In that position, the hole gapes, as if begging to be filled, taken, fucked. Enticingly thick nectar drips out of it.

  Like an uncivilized heathen, I stick my watering mouth right where it was dripping.

  She groans at the first stroke of my tongue along her swollen folds. Her pretty little pussy is as soft as the petals of a flower and as sweet as nectar. My tongue delves deeper as I eat her out greedily. I can’t get enough.

  My hungry slurping draws even louder moans from her as I hit on the spots she loves the most. She pushes her fingers through my hair and arches her hips up to me, giving me more access.

  I begin drawing designs all over her with my tongue. When I hit a spot that makes her shiver and go tense with pleasure, I hold her tighter to my mouth and keep at it, rubbing, licking, sucking, worshiping until I find a rhythm that makes her moan with ecstasy and her body squirm.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” she begs, driven purely by pleasure.

  I suck the engorged button hard. It takes less than a minute before her body becomes a hard bow. She pushes her clit even deeper into my mouth. She lets out a long wail that bounces off the walls as she collapses underneath me. Limp and completely sated, she lies panting…but not for long. Sticky-sweet honey is all around my mouth and I lick it clean.

  “You’ve got a sweet little pussy,” I tell her, and lick her all over again. Her poor clit throbs under my tongue.

  When she comes clawing and grasping at the sheets, I lie down beside her and rub my palm on her nipple, over the lace of her bra. It’s as hard as a little stone. It doesn’t take long for her to catch her breath and rise on her elbows.

  She grins at me. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Her searching hands find the button of my jeans and slide the zip down. She fumbles a bit so I help her push my pants off. As soon as they get to my ankles, I kick them away.

  Now there’s nothing between us but a pair of boxers. I lift my hips and she hooks her fingers into the waistband and pulls the thin material down. My dick jumps to full attention.

  “You’re so huge,” she gasps in wonder.

  I look down and my dick is pulsing so crazily to get inside her silky warmth it actually hurts. “That’s right, and you’re going to take every inch of me inside your tight pussy, baby.”

  She slides her hands up my thighs and my cock jerks at her touch. One hand curls around my upright dick. I groan at the sudden thrill of her small hand fisting my cock. Her fingers are cool and sure as she slowly slides them along the shaft and over the pulsing veins as she feels every inch of me. It is as though she’s memorizing me, testing the texture of my skin, exploring me.

  “Your skin is like silk,” she murmurs.

  Leaning forward, she wraps her red mouth around my cock and starts sucking it in. I want to say something, but I lost the power of speech. I dig my hands into her hair as she takes my cock deeper and deeper into her throat.

  “I won’t be able to last long,” I warn.

  She looks up at me with wide open eyes and bobs her head up and down my shaft.

  “Spread your legs, Tamara. I want to see what’s mine.”

  Obediently, she readjusts her body and allows me to see her wet, open pussy. I stare at her flesh and lick my lips thinking of how sweet she tasted earlier. Suddenly, I can hold it no longer. I try to pull my cock out of her mouth, but she clamps her hands around my hips and starts making a swallowing motion.

  I explode in her mouth while she moans and milks every last drop from me.

  Chapter 41

  Cass

  I am tempted awake by the delicious smell of bacon. With my eyes still closed, I roll over in bed lazily. Mmm…Emma Jean is making breakfast. I should get up. Wait, I shouldn’t be able to smell bacon from my room. My eyes snap open.

  I’m naked and alone in Lars’ bed.

  My immediate and first thought is he’s done a runner because he regrets sleeping with me. But that insecure thought doesn’t last. The way Lars worshiped my body last night is not what people do to their one night stands. A secretive smile curves my lips to think of all the things he did to my body. I’ve never met anyone who did the things he does, or who made me climax so hard. I guess he must be very experienced.

  We did it so many times I’m sore this morning.

  I stretch deeply, and it makes both my knees and wrist ache. I examine my wrist gingerly. It hurts, but it’s bearable. I sit up and look around the dim room. Last night, I had no eyes for anything but him, but today, I’m curious. It’s surprisingly bare. A couple of watercolor paintings of horses, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a daybed with some olive-green pillows. It’s almost as if he lives here, but it’s not really his home.

  The sheets reek of sex so I quickly strip them off the bed and bundle them up. Picking up the flannel shirt I wore last night off the floor, I slip it over my head. As I pass the mirror on the dresser, I glance at it. Yup, I look like a dirty stop over, but I can’t stop grinning at my reflection. Nothing can be done about my swollen mouth, but I run my hands through my hair to put it to some kind of order before I turn away.

  Still wondering where Lars is, I quickly gather the rest of my clothing, add them to the sheets, and carry the wad out of the room. Pausing at the top of
the stairs, I listen. Everything seems still until I hear clattering sounds coming from the kitchen.

  I briefly think about exiting through the front door and accessing my living quarters through my patio, but I don’t like the idea of sneaking about like a thief, and I certainly don’t want to tell an unnecessary lie to Emma Jean. She’s been good to me and I respect her.

  Clutching the dirty laundry against my body like a shield, I go down the stairs and head toward the kitchen for my walk of shame. The door is not closed, and I can hear Emma Jean moving around. For all I know, she has probably already heard about the sex tape and the ensuing fight. It’ll be embarrassing, but I’ll just have to brazen it out.

  Cautiously, I put my head around the kitchen door, expecting to see Emma Jean’s cheerful face. But what I see is a stripped to the waist, totally edible Lars presiding over a big mess. There are pots and pans on the fire and in the sink. The table is littered with broken egg shells, cans of beans, bread, a bowl of pancake batter, packets of open bacon, and sausages. For a second, I stare at him blankly.

  “You okay?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

  I nod, still too bewildered by the sight of him cooking to form actual words.

  “Well, I’m most definitely not,” he says.

  I frown. Is this where it’s supposed to get awkward? I can act cool about last night if that’s what’s needed. Straightening my spine, I step into the kitchen. “Why aren’t you okay?”

  He places his hands on his lean hips. “Here I am busting my gut trying to make and serve breakfast in bed to the most beautiful, naked woman God ever created, and she’s ruined it all by stripping the bed and getting back into clothes.”

  I grin with relief. “The sheets reeked of sex.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” he asks, genuinely surprised.