by Paige North
Miles calls one afternoon while I’m up in the gym.
“Remember Randall and Shelley McCrery from Atlanta?” he asks.
How could I forget? Miles was trying to recruit Randall to Croft International but, more importantly, that lunch was the first time Miles snapped at me for being inappropriate.
“I remember,” I say. “Shelley was excited about seeing a Broadway show.”
“Right,” he says. “Randall accepted our offer. He and Shelley are moving up to New York next month.”
“That’s great,” I say, feeling happier for Randall and Shelley than for Miles getting his way. “Congratulations.”
“Randall said he and Shelley insist on taking us out to dinner once they’ve settled.”
My heart stops working for a moment. When the McCrerys arrive in New York my contract will have long since expired. There’s no me and Miles after the end of the month. I realize what he’s saying. He’s saying he’d like to see me—really see me—after this is all done.
“Well…okay,” I begin.
“Of course, I’ll just come up with some excuse when the time comes. I’ll tell him you finally came to your senses and left for me someone better.”
He’s joking, but I don’t like it.
“Whatever you think is best. Is that all?”
“No, actually,” he says. “I’ve got something big coming up. Something I need you to help me with. I need to meet with some possible partners but they’re not taking me seriously. Won’t even give me a meeting. They think I’m too young and inexperienced—not to mention the beneficiary of some serious nepotism—and refuse to meet with me. So I’m trying to figure out how to get a moment with them, even if it’s in public, at an event or something. I'm not sure. Got any ideas?”
“Are they married?” I ask.
“Definitely,” he says. “Marriage is a prerequisite for these kinds of people.”
“I haven’t been in this world long,” I say, “but I bet one of the wives is on the board of some charity, or at least works closely with one. Didn’t you mention once that right now is benefit season?”
“We’re right in the thick of it.”
I can’t even believe there is such a thing as benefit season, but apparently fall is the time of year when all the charities in New York have their galas and such. This is such an odd world that I’m learning about. “Okay, so find out what charity one of the wives is close with and if they’re having a benefit any time soon.”
“Huh,” Miles says, thinking. “That’s good. And in fact I know Mrs. Kendrick supports some sort of heart foundation. I’ll find out if they’re having something soon.
“But if you go, tell them first. You don’t want to ambush them or look like a creeper.”
He laughs softly at this. “Of course. Good point.”
“When we’re there I’ll cozy up to the wives and make sure you look outstanding. After all, that’s what I’m here for, right?”
He clears his throat. “Yes, definitely. In the meantime, look in your closet for a gown. Whatever the event is, it’ll be formal, and I want to make sure we’re ready to go once I get the date. If there’s not a dress, or if whatever is there doesn’t fit, just call the stylist. I think her number is in one of the drawers in your closet.”
“Sure, fine,” I say. “Just say when and what time and I’ll be there.”
Normally I’d be excited about going to a formal event, but I’m having trouble mustering the enthusiasm. Miles has made it all too clear that this is all business, no matter what else might happen between us physically.
Later that night, he brings me a small present: a little box of pastel macaroons from Ladurée Madison.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I was passing by and just thought of you. Thought you might like them. Have you ever had a macaroon?”
“No,” I say, taking a pale green little sandwich cookie out of the box, where six others of varying pastels are perfectly lined up.
“That one is pistachio,” he says.
I hold it up, inspecting it. “Looks like the color of my bed,” I say.
“I don’t have much work to do tonight,” he says casually, “if you want to watch a movie or something.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, caught off guard—again. Macaroons and a move? What’s gotten into this guy? “Just let me know when.”
Miles has a big screening room that seats thirty-five people but I tell him it’s too big and suggest we watch it in another room on a plush couch with the fire going. We settle on a drama, and it’s good, I suppose.
At first Miles and I sit on the couch with some distance between us, like we’re just a couple of buddies watching TV together.
Soon, though, we’re thigh to thigh. I don’t know who shifted first but there’s clearly something magnetic between us because against our better control, our bodies seem to need to be touching whenever they’re within eight feet of each other.
Hardly realizing how it happened, my hand is on Miles’ solid thigh, rubbing it gently. He pulls my hair back from my neck and says quietly, as if there are others to disturb, “What do you think you’re doing, Ms. Thompson?”
“What?” I say innocently, gripping his thigh.
He leans in closer to me and says, “Are you trying to distract me from the movie?”
“I’m not doing anything,” I say. As it always seems to happen, the need for Miles has shot through my body without warning, with hardly any build up. Feeling him next to me is all I need, and I need to touch him.
“That hand on me is all it takes,” he says. Kissing my neck he says, “God, you make me crazy.”
That’s all either of us needs. His mouth on my neck sends me to another dimension. My eyes fall shut and everything in body flutters to every kiss of his lips, every nip of his teeth, and every stroke of his tongue. He pulls back and looks at me. He holds my face in his hands and kisses me like I’m all his, long and deep and with such passion that it makes me whimper.
Our hands flow over each other like rushing water, needing to rediscover each other.
Miles pulls me on top of him, my knees pushed out to the side as I grind down on his hard dick. My sex is clenching for him, needing him more and more as I press down and tilt my hips toward him.
He pulls my top off as well as his own, and makes quick work of devouring my tits, sucking on me until I think I might faint.
He grabs my ass with both hands, pushing me slightly away from him. He looks up at me and says, “Take these off. Now, Jordyn. I need these off your body.”
I step back from him, onto the floor before him, topless, nipples wet from his mouth and tongue. I run my hand over my hardened tip, holding my tit, then taking the other, kneading them both while he watches.
He swallows hard and says, “Pants. Now.”
“You’re so bossy,” I say, moving my hand to the zipper.
In a barely audible whisper, Miles says, “Strip.”
I shove my pants down and step out of them. “Those, too,” he says of my lace panties. I hook my thumbs in the sides at my hips and watch him as I slowly lower them. He stares openly at my crotch, rubbing his thumb across that full lower lip of his.
“What about you?” I say. “It’s not fair I have to be naked but you get to keep your pants on.”
“Can’t you already see how hard you make me, Jordyn?” He rubs the flat of his hand over his huge bulge. “All I have to do is think about you and you make my body go crazy. Do you want to know what else?”
“What?” I ask, feeling no intimidation standing before him naked because I am too turned on watching him rub himself.
“Most mornings, when I shower,” he says, “I have to jack off thinking about you. I think about you in those little panties.” He nods to the discarded scrap of lace on the floor. “Or you in your bed, with me on top of you. Sometimes I close my eyes and picture your hand on me, jerking me off. But mostly, I think
of my mouth, and your pussy. When I think of tasting you, I can’t control myself. So get over here, Jordyn. Give me that pussy of yours that I love so much to eat.”
Oh my god, no guy has ever talked to me like that and hell if it doesn’t have me so wet—I thought I was wet before but no, I’m practically dripping.
Before I can move closer to him—I’m not sure how he wants me—he moves his hand to me and slides his fingers along the length of my swollen folds. His fingers flipping across me like ice makes my stomach flutter even more, and I suck in my stomach as I push my hips toward him.
He doesn’t enter me but feels me, teasing my aching clit until I’m sure I can’t stand any longer. When he pulls his fingers away I open my eyes back and watch as he takes his fingers in his mouth and tastes me like he’s done before.
“Now get up here,” he says. “I need you, Jordyn.”
With the first warm touch of his tongue I’m sunk. I don’t even try to hide my moans. If I do I’ll collapse right on top of him.
I grind my hips into his mouth as he licks me up, flicking over my clit and lapping me along the length of my pussy. Even Miles is practically growling as he eats me, his hands digging into my ass as tightly as I hold on to the thick of his hair. If I had any decorum left with him, any bit of shyness, it’s all but gone—for both of us—as I buck my hips into his face for more.
Fuck, he’s so good, and just when I don’t think it can get any better I feel his fingers slip into my hole. He finger fucks me as he sucks on my clit and it’s too much, way more than I can take.
I hold his head just where I want him, just where his mouth is perfect and I come hard, the walls of my sex clenching around his buried fingers.
I practically fall over the back of the couch when the wave passes. I’m ready to die right there when he pushes me back by my hips, forcing me to sit up.
“You’re not done yet,” he says. I let him move my limp body around, situating me as he pleases. My eyes can hardly open, but when I see what he’s doing I become fully alert. Miles is now before me, stripping off his pants. He stands in front of me with that big, intimidating, gloriously hot dick in his hand, working it slowly. “Now I want to fuck your mouth,” he says.
Miles
Jordyn is beyond the most intense, incredible woman I have ever been with or seen in my life.
As she sits on the couch in front of me, watching with fascination as I work my dick in my hand, my head spins with thought of her tongue on my cock. I want to stuff my entire dick in her warm little mouth and let her soak me, slide all over me until I come down her throat. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
With my free hand I stroke her delicate jaw, then caress her bottom lip. Her mouth falls open as if on command. “Open your mouth,” I say. “Now stick out your tongue.”
Jordyn’s long, pink tongue falls out of her mouth, everything open and angling for my dick. I step a little closer to her and lightly slap my dick on her tongue. “Lick,” I say when I leave it on her tongue. She does, licking it a little. “More. All of it,” I say. Jordyn starts at the base of my cock and drags her tongue up the length of me. I moan, the feeling of her too fucking good. She does it again, slower, watching me watch her the whole time.
She licks around my head, circling it with her tongue, and then she dips her head and takes me in her mouth, as much as she can. My breath catches as she bobs down on my shaft, then back up again. She puts her hand on me and jerks me as she sucks me.
I dig my fingers into the back of her head but I don’t need to force her; she’s going at it with gusto, taking me deeper each time. I watch as she sucks my cock, working it further into her warm mouth each time, the feeling of her tongue pressing on me, sliding up and down so good. When she pauses, giving her mouth a break, she keeps her hand on me and jerks me off, my dick so wet and slippery in her hand. Before I can even guide or tell her, her mouth is back on me, knowing what I need before I can even say it.
“I want to come in your mouth,” I tell her, giving her the option to pull back if she doesn’t want that. But hell if she doesn’t pull me closer and suck me harder. She wants it, and I finally give it to her, my come exploding in her mouth and down her throat.
She takes it all, and I groan as my dick spasms, releasing more and more of the hot fluid into her sucking mouth. She’s warm and hot, her tongue sliding and licking around the head as pleasure radiates throughout my entire body.
It’s the best head I’ve ever gotten in my life. I can’t believe how good she feels in every way.
Holy shit, I’m in trouble here.
Afterward I collapse on the couch next to her. “Okay, you have to know how sexy you are,” I say.
“Stop,” she says. She snuggles into my chest.
“And the fact that you don’t know you are is mind-blowing. If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were bullshitting me.”
She doesn’t say anything, just stays resting on my chest, her breath grazing my skin. I wish I did know her better. I wish I could let myself. But I can’t.
“Want to finish the movie?” It’s been playing softly in the background but I grab the remote to rewind.
We end up on the floor covered in blankets, the fire warming our feet as we go back and watch what we missed. Jordyn’s head is on my shoulder and my arm is wrapped around her. Her fingers move gently on my chest, little touches that let me know that she feels me here.
I kiss her head, taking in the clean scent of her shampoo.
Soon Jordyn’s little touches on my chest turn to little kisses with her lips. My kisses on the top of her head move to the skin of her forehead. The fact that we never bothered to get dressed again only speeds it all up.
Her hand slips so easily on me under the blankets. She feels so unbelievably good on me that I cave under her touch. When she crawls on top of me I think I might lose my mind. I kiss her until my lips are raw, until I can’t get any more out of her, and then I kiss her some more.
Soon she’s reaching down between her legs for my dick, so hard and throbbing again for her. She holds me at her entrance, slick with want, ready for me. As her tight pussy slowly engulfs my rigid dick, I swear the world stops for a moment.
My hands are on her hips but she’s deciding the pace and pressure. I watch her face, the pain and enjoyment of having a huge cock up inside her. Soon she’s stretched and wetter than ever, and she picks up the pace. The blanket around her shoulders falls away as she rides me, coming down harder and harder, tits bouncing.
And she wants me hard. Jordyn fucks me, her cunt slamming down on me until she’s crying out, until she’s coming, and that’s when I come into her, both of us moaning out together.
We fall asleep there on the floor. Several hours later I wake up cold, the fire gone out. I try to wake Jordyn but she only scoots closer to me. I get up and put my shorts back on. Then I wrap her up in the blanket and pick her up. She wakes up, a bit startled to be in my arms.
“What are you doing?” she mumbles.
“Carrying you to bed,” I say.
“I can walk,” she says. “I’m too heavy.”
“Nonsense,” I say. I could carry her to Maine and back and wouldn’t care, as long as I was holding her. I take up her the stairs and into her room, laying her gently on her bed. Her eyes flutter closed as I pull the blankets around her, tucking her in.
Her face is so peaceful and angelic. I kiss her cheek and whisper goodnight. When I close the door to her room I stand for a moment resting my head on the door, wishing I was still holding her.
So as it turns out, Jordyn was spot on about her idea for that benefit.
My sleuths at work find out that Mrs. Kendrick is, indeed, on the board of New York’s Heart Foundation and an event is coming up at the Waldorf-Astoria. I also know that not only will Ted Kendrick and his wife will be there, but also Stanley Washington, the two of which I’ve been trying to meet for two years now.
This charity event, with the beautiful Jo
rdyn on my arm, will be the perfect opportunity to show them that I’m not just some spoiled rich kid who inherited my title, but someone who’s damn good at business.
I know what I’m talking about and it annoys the shit out of me that they don’t trust that—that they won’t even give it a chance. But they are of my father’s generation, men who have a stick up their asses about younger people running the show. They are old school but I need them to work with me on some important acquisitions. The event is black tie and cost me ten thousand dollars for my seat and Jordyn’s, so it better work out.
I thought about changing into my tux at the office and sending the car to get Jordyn but realized that’d be an overly dick thing to do since this is a formal event and all. I worry about it feeling too much like a date but decide to fuck it and pick her up like a normal man. I still get dressed at the office, but I have the car drop me off at the building and go up to the penthouse to get her.
“Jordyn,” I call when I come through the door. “Your chariot is here.”
“One sec, I’m coming,” she calls back, her voice echoing through the high ceilings.
I sift through the mail that’s been brought up and find nothing of interest. When I look up, I see her. She’s wearing a long red gown with a cut-out at her waist and a slit up to her thigh. She’s done her hair differently, pulled up but still loose. She glides down the stairs like royalty. I have never seen anything more stunning in my life. I’m frozen in place, unable to move toward her or say anything.
She’s got me paralyzed.
“I don’t know how that stylist knew exactly what size to buy me, but she did,” Jordyn says, walking across the room toward me. “I mean, this thing fits perfectly. I thought I was going to have to send it downstairs for alterations but nope—it’s like a glove. Hey, you look…wow, seriously you look handsome.” She stands before me, her eyes sweeping over me. “Are you okay?” she asks.
