by Dark Angel
Lori’s snort of disgust tells me I’m on the right track to winning her over. I know she’ll love my strategy once she sees how effective it'll be.
“My point is they have to be humiliated. Once I have a stack of signed statements indicating how ACL impacted its guests so negatively, there’s no way Jacob Kent can stand by his claim of improving lives and saving marriages.”
Lori huffs. Oops. I forgot the mere mention of marriage is a hot button with her.
“Trust me Lori. Have I ever let you down?”
“Not yet,” she says crossly. “And you better not this time.”
This conversation is going nowhere. “Okay, well, I’m going into the office today to observe Jake and Toby’s selection process. It should be very...enlightening.”
I roll my eyes, unable to keep the snark from my voice. I can only imagine how this will go. I mean, how the hell do you screen women you want to go down on?
Another heavy sigh from the newly crowned queen of negativity. “Fine. Get back to me.”
I hang up and look at my phone for a minute, then shake it off and get up. Time to grab a shower and get dressed for the day. I think about the day ahead as I shampoo my hair, trying to focus on the professional reason for spending the day with Jake, but my mind keeps going back to the thrill that raced through me every time he smiled at me when I was at the studio the other day.
I know it’s not professional, but I can’t help wondering if he’s really as good as he seems—with everything. His brain, because he seems really intelligent. I mean the man did write an international bestseller. His heart, because even though I don’t buy his bullshit, the things he said about making people’s lives better were really nice. And, of course, his tongue, for obvious reasons. I don’t want to admit it, but Jake seems like the total package. It could all just be an act, though. You can’t trust a man who makes his living selling sex.
But still...something about him makes me want to trust him. Or at least find out how much of what I see is the real deal.
Really, it would only be smart for me to find out. Maybe these are things I need to know in a professional capacity. For research. Yeah. That’s it. I need to know just how good Mr. Jacob Kent is off camera so that I can make a stronger case.
That’s all it is. Just business.
Layla
Jake opens the door to his office a few hours later and greets me with a smile that definitely doesn’t make my heart speed up. The way he looks me up and down as if he wants to memorize every inch of my body doesn’t make my breath hitch, either. And when he reaches out his hand and slides it around my waist to guide me into the room, his touch absolutely doesn’t turn my pussy into a total gusher. Nope. Not at all.
And I’m a fucking liar.
Holy shit, how could I forget just how strong this man’s raw sex appeal is in the few days since I’ve seen him? I’d chalked it up to the intensity of the moment. The fact that we met only moments after I watched another woman face fuck him. Of course the testosterone was pouring off him in waves then.
So why do I feel just as turned on now as he walks me across his office toward a high-end coffee machine that looks so complicated I’m not even sure a barista would know what to do with it?
“Coffee?” he murmurs, his smile slipping into more of a knowing smirk, and I wonder if he knows what kind of effect he’s having on me.
“Sure.” I watch as he expertly punches in a sequence of buttons, then the most delicious aroma fills the room within seconds. “Wow, you really know how to work that thing.” I mentally roll my eyes at the dumb comment.
Jake chuckles, and the low sound sends shivers straight from my stomach to my clit, which is practically quivering with need now.
What in the actual fuck is he doing to me? Making me forget how to speak and act like I’ve never been around a sexy man before?
The sexy smirk that has me remembering all too clearly just what those lips are known for grows larger. “You could say I’m an expert at knowing what buttons to push.”
Apparently. He’s pushing all the right ones with me. If I don’t get my body under control—like right the fuck now—he’s going to have me so wet that my juices will run right down my legs. Not even joking.
Holy fuck. No wonder he calls himself the Cunning Linguist. I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy could make a girl come with nothing but his words.
“That is the general consensus,” I toss back as he hands me the steaming mug of coffee. Thank God I have something to do with my hands now. At the rate things are going, I’m likely to reach down and pull his cock out.
“You say this as if there’s a question.”
Laughing, I shake my head, hoping to clear out some of the lust-induced haze that’s making me want to behave like a fucking nympho. “All I’m saying is that I adhere to the principle of innocent until proven guilty.”
Jake’s eyelids drop to half-mast in what has to be the cockiest look I’ve seen on him yet. “I plead guilty, baby. Every single time. It’s way more fun that way.”
Someone clears their throat from across the office, and that’s when I realize for the first time that Toby’s already here.
“Have you started already?” I ask, looking between the two men.
“Waiting for you,” Jake says, his hand resuming the position on my back as he leads me toward one of the two chairs facing his desk. Toby’s taken up residence behind the desk, and Jake pulls the other chair closer to the desk, and closer to mine, ready to get to work.
I clear my throat and pull a tablet from my handbag. “Sorry to keep you waiting then, Mr. Kent.” Jake gives me a look. “I mean Jacob.”
He narrows his eyes. “My friends call me Jake, remember?”
“Sure thing, Jacob.”
Toby busts out laughing. “I like you, Layla.”
Grinning, I sit back in my chair. “Why don’t you two just pretend I’m not here, and I’ll try to get a completely objective idea of how this goes?”
“Objective?” Toby scoffs. “If you say so.”
“Okay,” Jake rubs his hands together, “let’s dive in.”
“Nice one,” I laugh.
Jake catches my eye and winks, and my blood starts to simmer as I imagine him diving in—right in between my legs.
Luckily, the two men get to work and I’m soon able to push most of my dirty thoughts aside.
Toby’s clicking through email after email on the computer while Jake tears open envelopes and scans the contents one by one. Yeah. Letters. Women are sending actual physical letters to Jake. After a while it’s almost as if they forget I’m here. Both men sum up each applicant—that’s how I’m thinking of the women who want to be on Jake’s show—as they work their way through them, categorizing them into yes, no, and maybes.
“So how are you determining who goes into which category?” I can’t stop myself from asking after thirty minutes of this. I’m not quite sure what I expected, but it’s not what I’m seeing. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to understand?” Jake says simply. “We’re finding who I can help the most.”
“Yeah, but…” I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking, and I fumble through it. “There hasn’t been a single picture. None of these women have talked about what they like or don’t like when it comes to sex. I guess I just don’t get what you’re looking for.”
If I had to guess based on what I’ve gathered, I’d say the women ending up in the yes pile are ones who seem smart, funny, interesting. Women I might like to hang out with. And then there are the ones who fit the bill of what Jake said—ones who really need help.
Because some of these applicants? Holy shit. I can’t even imagine being so miserable with my sex life. I love sex. I see it as a vital and vibrant part of my life—something to appreciate and revel in. But some of these women look at it completely differently for a variety of reasons. It’s something they’re embarrassed about, or insecure. Some even sound ashamed. Then
there are those that desperately hope there’s more to sex than what they’ve known because their experiences can hardly be called great.
I thought most people in the world are happy with their sex lives, but it looks like I was dead wrong. Are there really that many people this uptight about sex? I mean, Lori is, obviously, but I thought she was the exception rather than the rule. If what I’m seeing and hearing while Toby and Jake go through these letters and emails is par for the course, well, maybe a show like this really can help.
Fucking hell, Layla. What am I supposed to do with that? I tuck it away as something to think about later and listen as Toby and Jake tell me more about their process.
“Have you ever watched the show, Layla?” Toby asks.
I shake my head. “Not really. Just the one last week. But I think everyone’s seen that one by now.”
He grins. “Fucking awesome, wasn’t it?”
“Or awesome fucking?”
Toby laughs loudly and holds his fist out toward me. “Right?” Smiling, I bump my fist against his. “But there was a reason for it. Isn’t that right, Jacob?”
Now I’m intrigued. He sits back and crosses his arms, looking at Jake to elaborate.
Jake leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers together. “Absolutely. See, people were questioning me. Doubting the entire premise of my show. We had to put a stop to it.”
“Because your ego just had to prove them wrong?” I grin.
“That too,” he jokes. “But also because I want people to believe my message. If they don’t think it’s real, how am I supposed to help anyone?”
Damn.
I don’t know what to say to that.
Toby pipes up again. “One of these days this dude’s going to let me guest host the show. I keep telling him that what better way to prove that good sex is for everyone than for someone else to step up to the plate.”
Anyone. Everyone. They keep using these words, and it strikes me that the women they’ve chosen are so varied. I assumed that there was a certain type of woman that would come to Jake for “help,” but once again I was wrong. They really do seem to believe this message about helping people.
When they get back to work, I can’t stop looking at Jake. I’m seeing him in a totally different light. Yeah he’s cocky. But I wasn’t wrong when I thought he had a brain and a heart. And I’m absolutely convinced I’m not wrong about the other skills he possesses.
“So, what do you think?” Jake asks when they’ve finished going through the applications. His gaze is heated as he watches me. “Am I the arrogant bastard who gets off on people watching me go down on a new woman every night?”
Wow. That shouldn’t turn me on. But it so fucking does. In the time it takes him to say the words, I’m soaked all over again, just like when I first arrived. It’s insane what this man can do.
“The jury’s still out, Jacob, but you did claim to be guilty,” I tease.
He laughs. “Maybe you could use a one-on-one interview to come to your own conclusion.”
Hell yes I could.
“Dinner?” he asks with a suggestive smile.
Dessert sounds better. But dinner is a start. It’s all in the name of research, right? Right.
I name one of my favorite upscale restaurants and Jake smiles.
“Perfect.”
I stand, since we’re done for the day. “Meet me there at eight.”
Jake
There’s almost nothing as satisfying as a glass of Macallan. Swirling the amber liquid in my glass, I glance around the bar at the restaurant where I’m meeting Layla. I’m not quite sure what she was going for in choosing this place, but if it was romantic, she nailed it.
Not only is it dark and seductive, the plush private tables scream sex. I can’t wait to get Layla alone in the corner booth I requested the minute I walked in and scoped the place out. Just being here is enough to get anyone in the right frame of mind for a sexy night of fun and pleasure. With my skills at reading both women and situations, I’m pretty sure I could have Layla begging for it before the appetizers even arrive.
I’ve pretty much been hard for days thinking about her. I don’t know why I can’t seem to get her out of my head. But she’s so fucking delectable, all I want to do is get my lips on her and finally have a taste.
That sassy little attitude gets me, too. She tries to be professional, but I see right through it. I know she’s attracted to me. That’s not me being a cocky bastard. It’s just the truth. Not gonna lie, I love knowing that she was getting hot for me from the minute she walked in my office this afternoon.
But she wasn’t alone. Seems like all I can think about is what it'll be like to peel away all those layers of professionalism and see the naughty little sex fiend I know is just beneath the surface.
I take another sip of the expensive scotch, and then smile into my glass when I see her appear in the entry of the restaurant.
No way is she going to convince me this is strictly business tonight. Not when she’s wearing a sexy little black dress designed to make men fall to their knees and beg. The dress is fucking short, making her legs look as if they go on for miles. Holy hell, I can’t wait to have those legs wrapped around my neck as I sink into what I know will be the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.
And that ass. Kill me now. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the dinner without tearing that dress off her killer body and taking what I want.
Rising from my barstool, I cross the bar to meet her at the front of the restaurant, my pace a bit more hurried than usual. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I’m fucking ecstatic to see her, and more than ready to get this night started.
“Layla. You look stunning.” I take her hand in mine and lift it to my lips just like I did the first day we met, but this time I let my mouth linger, my lips parted slightly so she can feel the heat of my breath, the hint of my tongue.
A shiver runs through her, and her eyes widen slightly before darkening with pure lust. Fuck yes. Can I just take a minute and say how completely satisfying it is to know that the woman I’ve been fantasizing about for days is responding to me just the way I want? You might think I’m used to women falling all over me. And you’d be right. But when it happens all the time, and your day job is to eat pussy as if your life depends on it, things can get a bit routine.
Not with Layla. I haven’t felt a rush of anticipation like this in a long time.
“Shall we?” she says, her lips curving in a seductive smile.
Releasing her hand, I tuck her in against my side, letting my hand rest low on her hip as we follow the maître d’ through the restaurant to the secluded corner table. After we’re alone again, I lean in close, running my finger along her neck as she watches me, her breath coming fast and heavy already.
“Let’s not talk about work tonight.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she replies, her voice husky. “Though I’m not sure if anything qualifies as work for you. I’d assume business and pleasure kind of bleed together for you.”
I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Tonight is all about pleasure.” Then because I can’t resist, I run my lips lightly along her jaw. I’m rewarded with a slight gasp that goes straight to my cock.
“So, tell me something I don’t already know about you, Jacob.”
I laugh and shake my head in amusement. “Aren’t we friends by now?”
“Friends?” Layla fingers the collar of my dress shirt. “I’m not quite sure that’s what I’d call it. Jury’s still out, remember?”
This girl. “Okay, something you don’t know.” I think for a moment. My life is pretty much an open book with my very public persona. “Oh, I’ve got it. How about that before I decided to study psychology, I was an art history major for two semesters.”
Her body is already angled toward mine, but she turns fully toward me now, her eyes wide. “Seriously? I’m obsessed with art history and fine art. My dream job was working as a curator fo
r the Smithsonian.”
I smile. “Yet you work for the FCC.”
Layla wiggles her finger at me and makes a tsk sound. “No, no. Didn’t you say tonight is for pleasure? Don’t let me catch you mentioning that four-letter word again.”
I hold my hands up. “Guilty.” Then I give her a wink. “You might just have to punish me for it.”
The server appears just as she’s about to reply, and I order for us. Over dinner, we continue talking about how much we both enjoy fine art.
“You know,” she says after we finish eating, “we said no work talk, but I have to ask.”
I lift an eyebrow. She doesn’t sound all-business like she can, and the look on her face is anything but professional. “Ask away.”
“So, I’ve watched a few episodes of your show now, and there’s one thing I’m really curious about.” She pauses, and then licks her bottom lip. “Your technique.”
Oh hell yes. Game on, baby.
“Well, it’s not so much something that I can describe with words. It’s really something you have to experience for yourself.” Hey, what can I say? She asked. Layla almost looks disappointed because obviously I’m not about to crawl under the table and eat her out. Well, I guess I could, but I’m pretty sure we’d be kicked right out of the restaurant, regardless of who I am.
I can’t have her looking like that so I add, “But I’m not just a cunning linguist. I happen to be pretty good with my hands.”
The naughty smile that curves her mouth makes me even harder, and I wonder how much more of this my cock can take. When her knee bumps against mine, I realize she’s just spread her legs for me. Not one to say no to an invitation like that, I lean in and whisper in her ear, then kiss her neck with a slow, teasing press of my lips that promises of more to come later.
