The Hot Sergeant (Second Chance Military Romance) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  When at last my climax began to ebb, I felt the zippers of my leather suit being opened around my crotch, letting out all the heat that built up within and allowing a blast of cool air to rush over my hot, soaking wet pussy. The touch of Tristan's cool hands touching me there made me come again almost instantly. I bucked and thrashed in my bonds as wave after wave of powerful orgasm shook through me. With no other senses available to me, and only my breasts and pussy exposed to the world, my sense of touch was so much more intense that I could hardly believe it and my orgasm was the most powerful I had ever experienced.

  I was still trying to regain my breath when I felt Tristan remove the bonds that were holding my wrists and ankles. He guided me to kneel on the floor on my hands and knees. Something brushed against my lips and I knew it was his erect cock. I took him into my mouth hungrily, relishing the taste and feel of his hard organ as I licked and suckled him. Then, he removed himself from my mouth and I was once again alone in the silent dark, waiting for what would happen next.

  Out of nowhere, I felt him plunge into my dripping wet pussy from behind with a swift and solid thrust that took my breath away. Unable to see, hear, or even feel the currents of the air when he walked, I had no warning he was there and the unexpectedness made me gasp. My cry of surprise quickly turned to moans of pleasure as he pounded into me powerfully from behind. His hands gripped my exposed breasts, squeezing and fondling me there as I rocked back to meet him with every thrust. I wondered if he was groaning in time with my moans, but my thoughts quickly faded away as I was overwhelmed by the powerful throes of yet another orgasm. I was delirious with pleasure and collapsed onto the ground. My arms and legs were no longer able to hold me up under such overwhelming rapture and I could no longer even cry out with pleasure, my voice was so hoarse.

  At long last, Tristan removed the hood from my eyes so that I could see and I blinked as my vision cleared. Next, he plucked the earplugs from my ears and I could hear how heavily he was panting and knew that he had exerted himself mightily in pleasuring me. Finally, he removed the leather gloves and bodysuit, leaving me utterly naked. He bathed me with a cool cloth, washing away the salty sweat and residue of come that coated my skin. Then, he carried me to the bed and laid me down to rest. I fell asleep there, utterly exhausted and at peace from our hours of pleasure. My mind and body were completely relaxed when I awoke and I knew without a doubt that I had made the right decision in staying with him instead of returning home.

  I put on my clothes and left the alcove. The club was deserted except for a few stragglers like myself, but Mr. Varner was still there.

  "Go out the back door," he told me, but I laughed and shook my head.

  "I'll be all right going out the main entrance."

  "The story broke this morning. It might be ugly out there."

  "I can handle it. It's Tristan I'm worried about," I said and pushed my way through the exit. A mob of reporters were on me at once. Flashes of cameras blinded me as I staggered back.

  "Olivia, where are you from? How did you become a bondage prostitute? What's it like to sleep with Tristan Porter? Does he spank you or do you spank him? How much does he pay you? Do you sleep with other celebrities?" The deluge of questions came at all once and I couldn't distinguish one from the other.

  Suddenly, a team of bodyguards came and surrounded me. I recognized them as being the men who worked for Tristan, and even though I had said I didn't need them, I was grateful. They shepherded me into the back of a limousine and drove me away from the crowd. Once the driver was certain he had lost them, he turned to me and introduced himself. "I'm Adam, Miss Harte. I'll take you wherever you want to go."

  "Take me home," I said, and the thought made me smile. Los Angeles was my home now, for better or for worse. I turned to the laptop computer in the backseat of the car and pulled up the scandalous newspaper story. I wasn't sure I wanted to see it, but if everyone else was going to be reading about me, I should at least know what it said.

  My face was featured prominently in black and white on the front page next to one of Tristan coming out of the club. I read the article from top to bottom, and I was relieved to find that the only thing they really knew about me was my name and where I worked, the rest of my life and where I came from was mystery to them. Still, the article was enough to humiliate my parents, and I was certain they would never forgive me for it. I was stuck here now and there was no going back.

  The story mostly focused on Tristan, however, and my heart wept for him. The reporters were merciless, attacking him as being a degenerate lacking in morals and accused him being into the worst types of abuse and perversion.

  His ex-wife had made a public statement against the article alleging that Tristan had beaten her, claiming it wasn't true; but with no reply as to had beaten her, many people did not believe the recant and thought that Tristan had bullied her into making the statement. Now this newest scandal served to worsen that image and made him look like a complete monster. I needed to go to him and make sure he was alright.

  I called for Adam and said, "On second thought, take me Tristan's."

  "Yes, Miss Harte," Adam said respectively, and I felt him turn the car around. I mused that perhaps one day when I said take me home, it would be Tristan's place. Seeing his name dragged through the mud made me certain than ever that I had fallen in love with him. I just hoped that one day he could feel the same about me.

  Chapter Two: Tristan

  "We've lost another one," my assistant Avery said with quiet frustration.

  "Goddamn motherfuckers!" I shouted with uncontrolled rage, slamming my fist against my desk. All morning long, calls had been coming into my office of investors withdrawing their support from my projects. It was a fucking bloodbath and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. My corporation was hemorrhaging to death thanks to the fatal knife wound of Janice stabbing me in the back. What a fucking cunt. I never should have saved her life when that drug dealer was beating her to death; if she were here in front of me now, I might just do it to her myself. I'd go to prison for the rest of my life for murder, but it might just be worth it.

  Oh, fuck it. So maybe I wasn't really mad enough to murder her, and maybe I didn't really regret saving her life, but I was fucking fed up with her cutting me up and feeding me to the fucking wolves. This shit had to stop or I'd lose everything I'd worked my entire life to create.

  My PR agent Carson came into the room, and I pounced on him at once. "How the fuck are we going to stop this? We need to brainstorm some ideas quick before the network fucking cancels me."

  "The popularity of your show is based on how controversial you are," Carson assured me. "The meaner and nastier you get, the more the viewing audience tunes in to see what outrageous thing you're going to say next. So, don't worry about the show; this scandal is making you more famous than ever. The network won't cancel you for this; after all, you're the man everyone loves to hate."

  "You may be right, but my business investors don't agree. They're jumping ship like rats on the fucking Titanic, and I'm losing millions every time another one hits the water. What the fuck can we do about that?"

  Carson paced the floor in opposite motion of Avery in front of my desk as we all struggled to come up a solution. Avery spoke first, saying, "You've got to show the investors that even though the public seems to hate you, your negative public image doesn't make you a bad investment. Prove to them that the support for your show is as strong as ever. Then, they'll feel safe sticking with you."

  "Obviously, but how the fuck do I do that?" I snapped. I wasn't mad at Avery, just this fucked up situation. Luckily, he had seen me through worse moods than this and always stayed with me.

  "Throw a party," Carson chimed in, and we both glared at him.

  "I think Mr. Porter is hardly in the mood to throw a party right now," Avery scoffed.

  I could fucking defend myself without Avery's help. Rising from my desk, I confronted Carson and said to him, "My name is bei
ng dragged through the fucking mud. Over half the country thinks I'm a degenerate pervert, and you want me to order a case of champagne, turn on the music, and party?"

  "Not just champagne. Order the finest whiskey, aged scotch, and imported vodka. Invite the company heads of all your advertisers, the network executives, and the richest friends you've got. Fill the place with power moguls, millionaires, hot women, and free-flowing liquor. I'll make sure the party is leaked to the media, and they'll spread the word to your investors for you. Tristan Porter is on top of the world with more support from the rich and powerful than ever before. After that, your investors will come flocking back to you, and you'll be able to pick and chose the ones you feel like taking back."

  "And, you expect this ridiculous scheme to work?" Avery sounded doubtful, but I loved the idea.

  "Fuck yeah, it will work." I grinned, slapping Carson on the back. I turned to Avery with newfound excitement and said, "We'll have it at my place. Book a caterer and a band. Have my secretary pull up a list of my advertisers and the network executives and send out the invitations. I'll call the millionaires and extend my invitation to them personally. Set the party for this Friday night at eight o'clock. Carson, you're in charge of making sure this story sizzles in the papers and draws back all the rats that have jumped ship."

  "Don't worry, sir; it will," he assured me. I led him to the elevator and entered the car with him.

  "Where are you going?" Avery was surprised by my departure with so much suddenly to do.

  "I'm going home. I want to call them from there. I like keeping my friends separate from business and never call them from here. You've got your assignment. Make sure this is the best fucking party of the year."

  I had forgotten that I had assigned Adam to take care of protecting Olivia, and I had to use my back-up driver to take me home. I started working on this week's episode of Pick Me the moment the car pulled away from the curb. Carson was right; my fans loved to hate me and the more ugly it got, the more they clamored to watch. I intended to make this week's episode the most outrageous one yet and stacked it with guests I was sure would get a good rise out of me.

  When I got to my mansion in Beverly Hills, I went straight to my home office and started calling my friends, starting with the richest. They were all game for a good party, and in less than an hour, I had confirmed five of them as guests. I was about to call a sixth when a surprise knock came on my door.

  "Not now, I'm busy," I called to my maid. No doubt she had come to offer me lunch or ask for a raise, or some bullshit. Whatever the fuck she wanted, I didn't care.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have a guest. There is an Olivia Harte here to see you."

  I set down my phone and adjusted my suit and tie. Shit, why was my heart suddenly racing? She was just a whore; just a stupid little bitch I liked to fuck at the club – only she wasn't and even I couldn't deny it. Olivia had taken some kind of hold on me that I couldn't explain or understand, and I didn't want to. I just wanted to be with her all the time. I'd been infuriated when I learned the newspaper article was going to include pictures and information on her because I knew how devastating that kind of negative attention could be for a young girl like her. I hated what it had done to her relationship with her parents. How those heartless bastards could disown someone as precious and sweet as Olivia was beyond me, and I wanted to rip their fucking hearts out like they had done to her. It's why I went through so much effort to pleasure her for so long last night. I didn't just want to give her orgasms, I wanted to make them so incredible that they would overshadow her pain and make everything all right again.

  All I wanted was for Olivia to be happy, and I felt honored to be the man to protect her and provide for her. It's why I paid her a thousand dollars a week when I only gave others a few hundred. It's why I told Adam to take half my security detail to follow her and ordered him to personally see to her every need. It's why I felt nervous and happy and insecure and excited all at once just knowing that she was standing outside my door. I'd never had a girl from the club into my home before, but I was glad that Olivia was the first, and if I had my way, the last.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that I was falling in love with the precious little Bitch, as I liked to call her. It was a playful term of endearment that for me denoted my love and caring for her, despite its mean implications. I was falling in love with her, only I didn't know what to do about it. Surely, she only acted the way that she did because I paid her to do it. Her seeming desires and affections for me were simply because she was doing her job and doing it well. If I stopped paying her, no doubt she would think no more of me than any other client and possibly even hate me for costing her the job. I couldn't claim to love a woman whom I was still paying to be my fucking whore, and I couldn't end the business relationship with her that I myself had started just because I'd grown feelings for her based on the job that she was doing. She would hate me for it. Did I really fucking expect her to return my feelings of love? No, that was fucking ridiculous. No one had ever loved me – not even Janice or my own parents. How could I expect Olivia to? No, if I wanted to keep being with her, the best thing I could do was bury my feelings as deep down as they would fucking go, carry on our business relationship, and just enjoy having that little piece of her that I had paid for. Anything more was just a fantasy and to ask for it would ruin everything, and then I would lose her completely.

  Swallowing hard to clear the lump of emotion from my throat, I made myself sound all gruff and business. "Send her in."

  She came into the room looking fucking amazing in a pair tight-fitting shorts, a pink silk sleeveless blouse cut low in the front to accentuate her ample cleavage, and white wedge heels. Her taunt nipples were visible through the thin fabric and her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, just the way I liked it. God, she was so fucking sexy, I got hard just looking at her. All I wanted to do was bend her over my desk and fuck her right here, right now; but I forced myself to remain professional. Her face was free of make-up, and her fresh beauty only made her hotter, as far as I was concerned. I was sick to death of overly made-up sluts; I liked Olivia because she was precisely the opposite. She was sweet, innocent, and lacking in guile or pretense.

  Clenching my jaw to drive away such fucking sentimental thoughts, I glared at her and said, "What are you doing here? I told Adam to take you wherever you needed to go."

  "That's why I asked him to bring me here. I wanted to make sure you were alright after all the awful things that article said about you." Olivia walked up to me and there was such tenderness in her big hazel green and gold eyes, I couldn't fucking take it. She was going to break me down like a Goddamn pussy if I let her get to me like that. I had to remain tough, strong, untouchable.

  I turned on my most cocky grin, the one I used to display superiority like nothing ever bothered me and said, "I've never been better. Fuck the press. They can't stop me from living my life exactly the way I want to. In fact, I'm throwing a huge party Friday night."

  "A party?" Her expression of surprise was adorable, and I wanted to kiss those pouty lips, but I forced myself not to. I got up from my desk and strode around it to keep myself from fidgeting and showing weakness. I needed to appear strong and in control in front of her.

  "Yes. It's going to be a huge bash with high-ranking executives and millionaires. I'm going to show them that all the bad press in the world hasn't changed me." Suddenly, I had an idea. I came up behind Olivia and put my hands around her slender waist, holding her there. As my hands slid down over her perfectly round ass and squeezed her butt cheeks seductively, I said, "And, I want you to be there."

  "Me?" Olivia was even more surprised and her hazel eyes sparkled with excitement. She tried to turn around to embrace me, but that would have made me crumble into an emotional pussy. So, I held her fast by the waist with one hand as I continued to fondle her gorgeous ass with the other, showing her my dominance. She submitted at once and let me fondle
her without objection.

  "Yes. I want you to invite all the girls from the club. It will give Whip some exposure to new clients and prove to the old clients that there is no reason to hide. Introducing your business associates to mine will benefit us both and show the world that mixing business with the pleasure of BDSM is as good as it gets.”

  "So this is purely a business deal between us. You're not inviting me as a guest." Did I hear disappointment in her sweet voice? No, it was all an act. She couldn't actually want to be my date for real. She was too good to care for an asshole like me. Well, after a lifetime of practice, I could play that part to perfection.

  "That's right. It's business as usual for us, just like it's always been. Only this time, instead of having our session at the club, I'll be paying you five hundred dollars to entertain me here during my party, instead."

  "Fine. I'll be here and I'll bring as many of the girls from Whip as I can get." Olivia sounded cold and edgy. The sweetness was gone from her voice; I'd known she hadn't really cared for me and this proved it.

  "Good girl. Now have Adam take you home and let me work." I slapped her on the ass firmly and sent her on her way. My dick was throbbing, but I couldn't indulge myself with her now between hired sessions. It wouldn't be right. I would have to wait until the party on Friday. Something occurred to me as she walked out and I called out to her, making her stop. "Wait. Have Adam take you down Rodeo Drive on your way out of Beverly Hills and buy yourself something to wear for the party. I'll call ahead to Chanel and tell them to put anything you want on my charge account. Get yourself several dresses and don't forget shoes, a handbag, and jewelry to match. It will all be yours to keep."