The Naughty King

by Michelle A. Valentine

  “Holy fuck,” I say against her mouth. “You feel so fucking good.”

  I pull back slowly and then fill her again, giving her time to adjust to me. Margo whimpers against my lips, and I push into her one more time. The little noises she’s making combined with how good she feels, are deadly. I won’t be able to last. This time when I pull out of her I slam back in.

  “Jesus!” Margo cries out. “Yes!”

  Her cry only excites me more as I begin slamming into her. “Mmm, Margo. You like it hard, don’t you? I knew you were a dirty girl.”

  I fuck her hard and fast against the door while she continues to claw at my back and scream out with delight. It feels so fucking good, and it doesn’t take long for my balls to tighten.

  “Oh, Alexander. Oh, God. I’m coming. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Margo cries out as she comes hard around my cock.

  Watching her fall apart sends me over the edge and I pull out just in time to drop her legs to the ground and come all over her thighs. I pant hard as I lean my head against the wall over her right shoulder to catch my breath.

  What in the holy fuck am I doing? I never fuck a woman more than once, and I for damn sure don’t risk fucking one that could cost me billions of dollars. Why am I allowing this girl to get to me and fuck with my head? It’s like I’m a fucking crack addict and she’s the best hit I’ve ever had. I can’t get enough, no matter what the cost.

  I need to tell her to get the fuck out of this room and fire her ass. It’s the only way I’ll be able to make sure I don’t slip up again.

  I pull back and open my mouth, fully ready to turn back into a huge asshole, but the sight of Margo’s bright-blue eyes narrowed at me causes me to snap it shut. I wasn’t expecting that expression, considering I’d just given her one damn fine orgasm.

  “You are such a bastard,” she snaps.

  I raise my eyebrows and pull back a bit. “Most women thank me for what I just did for you.”

  “Thank you?” She shakes her head and releases a bitter laugh. “Alexander, I should punch you in the face for ruining my Versace dress.”

  My gaze drops down to the floor, and I see her dress still in a pool by our feet only now it has my come on it from when I pulled out of her.

  I smirk, unable to stop myself from finding a little humor in the situation. “Great sex requires sacrifice, and I’m afraid your dress paid the ultimate price.”

  “Ugh!” She growls as she shoves my shoulders back and steps away from me. “You’re unbelievable.” She bends over and snatches the dress off the floor. “From now on, stay the hell away from me. This will not be happening again.”

  I stare her down, meeting the challenge in her eyes. “Margo, don’t kid yourself. If I want you again, all I have to do is touch you and you’ll give in. Your body has already proven twice that it can’t resist me.”

  She pulls her lips into a tight line. “Never. Again. Alexander, do you hear me? This—whatever it was—is over. Done. When we get back to New York, I’m going to figure out a way to bury you. You can count on it.”

  I give her my most wicked smile, showing her that her threats mean nothing to me. “I look forward to your sweet ass attempting to destroy me.”

  Her nostrils flare and I can tell she wants nothing more than to lay into me. Instead, she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and flips me the middle finger.

  I laugh and then chide, “Mature.”

  Margo jerks open the door while she’s still bare ass naked. “Fuck you.”

  “I thought you just said we weren’t doing that again?” I tease.

  “You . . . I . . . Ugh!” That’s all she manages to get out before storming out in nothing but her stilettos and slamming the door behind her.

  I drop my head into my hand and then run it over the top of my head. What the actual fuck just happened? That spiraled out of control quickly and I didn’t even have to say a damn word. I guess I don’t have to ask her to stay away from me, after all.

  The sharp ring of my cell cuts across the otherwise quiet room, not giving me the time to think about what in the hell just happened. I pull my shorts back up before walking over to the nightstand and smiling as I see the name of the caller flash across the screen.

  “King,” I answer.

  “Where are you, asshole? Yamada’s been waiting on you all night. First you blow off dinner and now drinks at the bar?” There’s irritation in his voice.

  “Look, man, I’m sorry. I had too much to drink today so I’m staying in for the night, but I promise tomorrow we’ll party.”

  I know that I flew out here to spend the weekend with him and secure the deal with our companies for the Buchanan deal but going out to find random women to party with doesn’t sound appealing.

  “Okay. Fine. But, I’m holding you to tomorrow. You better bring your ‘A’ game because it’s going to be Yamada and King just like the old days. Getting’ bitches and gettin’ laid.”

  I chuckle. “You got it, buddy. Tomorrow, Vegas better watch out.”

  “Make sure you bring Dime Piece back with you. She’s got a rockin’ body, and I wouldn’t mind—”

  “Goodnight, Yamada.”

  I quickly cut him off before he has a chance to finish whatever dirty thought was brewing in that twisted little mind of his. Besides, it pisses me off for some reason when he talks about how sexy Margo is. I know he’s harmless, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but the idea of another man looking at Margo makes me jealous as hell.

  This is going to be a fucking problem.

  Margo

  STUPID. STUPID. STUPID. THAT’S THE word I’ve been scolding myself with since last night. I can’t believe that I had sex with Alexander King . . . again. Even after I forbid myself from ever doing it again, the moment he put his hands on me in his room I was a goner.

  I hate that the man has so much power over my body.

  When he texted me early this morning to demand my presence in the common area of our suite for breakfast, I replied with a friendly fuck off. Not the most mature thing to do, I know. Normally, I play it cooler when dealing with assholes like Alexander, but for some strange reason, he’s able to get under my skin like no one else and cause me to lose my typical level head.

  I spent most of the day in my room with the door locked trying to figure out ways I could avoid Alexander while still maintaining a close presence to figure out a way to get between him and Yamada. From what little bit of background I know about their relationship, it seems that they go way back, but hopefully their bond has a weak point I can break into.

  The hotel phone rings, pulling my attention away from my thoughts and I answer on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Dime Piece! Are you coming to my party tonight?” Yamada’s upbeat voice laced with his heavy accent shoots across the line.

  I lift my eyebrows. “Alexander didn’t mention anything.”

  “King said you hate him right now and wouldn’t come even if he asked, but I knew if Yamada invited you up to his penthouse, you couldn’t turn that down.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh to myself. Yamada really is convinced that he’s quite the ladies’ man.

  Yamada’s also wrong about Alexander. Alexander didn’t tell me about the party because he knew I would jump at the chance to spend a little one-on-one time to pick Yamada’s brain. Alexander kept this from me on purpose. He knows how badly I want to talk with Yamada. Alexander wants to limit my access to the man who whill have a huge hand in the destruction of my father’s company.

  King has another thing coming if he thinks he can keep me from my main objective while we’re here.

  “So, are you coming or not?” Yamada asks.

  I lift my chin. “I’m in. What time does it start?”

  “It’s already in full swing, so get your smokin’ self up here. I’m in the Real World suite. I’ll send my security down in thirty minutes to escort you up.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I tell him.


  “Great. See you then, you sexy thing.” I hear the smile in his voice, and I can’t help shaking my head.

  Out of every type of business partner I imagined Alexander King to have, Yamada was definitely unexpected.

  When I pass through what I have officially dubbed ‘The Room That Shall Not Be Named’ on the way to the common area of the suite, I shudder the moment my eyes land on the table. The things that man did to my body on there are unspeakable in the best kinds of ways. It’s hard to admit the man that you love to hate can make you feel so incredibly good.

  A quick rap on the door makes me quicken my pace. I open the door and find two very large official looking men in black suits—one white guy with short buzzed blond hair and the other a light-skinned black man with braids—each of them at least six-foot-five or better because they dwarf me by at least a foot.

  The man with braids gives me a polite smile. “Good evening, miss. We’re here to escort you to Mr. Yamada’s suite.”

  I nod stepping out into the hallway with them and closing the door behind me. The ride up in the elevator to Yamada’s penthouse is quick, but I find myself fidgeting with the hem of my black dress, trying to squeeze an extra inch from the length to cover more thigh. This is the shortest one I brought, and suddenly, I wish I wouldn’t have picked this one to wear to a place I know Alexander will be in attendance. I don’t need the temptation of having him come on to me. Lord knows that I can’t seem to resist his advances, so I need to make sure I steer clear and don’t set myself up for another encounter with him.

  When the elevator dings and the doors open, the men lead me down the hallway. They pause at a set of double doors and use their keycard to gain entrance into Yamada’s suite. It doesn’t surprise me that this suite is the biggest one in the hotel.

  Wall to wall bodies fill the large space as music pumps through the air. People are dancing to the beat while sipping on drinks like the place is one of Vegas’ hottest nightclubs. I follow the security team closely as we wind our way through the crowd. Yamada seems very eccentric and over-the-top, so this place totally fits him.

  The crashing sound of bowling pins smashing into one another catches my attention, and I raise my eyebrows when I find a full-fledged bowling lane in the suite just a little ways down from the hot tub that’s filled with bikini-clad women.

  Turning the corner, I see a large white sectional crammed with people. My heart freezes in my chest the moment my eyes land on Alexander, who has two women strategically placed on either side of him. He hasn’t spotted me just yet because I follow his line of sight and his gaze is fixed on Yamada, who is standing in front of him wearing a flat bill baseball cap turned sideways, low-riding jeans, and a white buttoned-down dress shirt that’s undone to reveal a T-shirt underneath. Yamada seems to be telling a story of some sort because he’s throwing his hands around causing Alexander to laugh. I stop in my tracks and just stare. It’s the first time I’ve ever actually seen Alexander look relaxed and happy, and it’s breathtaking. The casual outfit he has on of jeans and a T-shirt looks amazing. He’s never looked more handsome, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a carefree spirit—one I wish I knew instead of the asshole I fucked . . . twice.

  “Sir, Ms. Buchanan, as requested,” the blond security guy says, interrupting Yamada’s joke.

  Alexander’s eyes immediately snap in my direction, and the jovial expression that I was just admiring has completely been wiped off his face. His posture even changes and instead of leaning forward toward his friend, he relaxes back against the couch and throws his arms around the women on either side of him, pulling them snug against his sides.

  My nostrils flare. That asshole. What’s he trying to do—make me jealous? Ha! Well, I’ll show him that it doesn’t bother me one tiny bit.

  I’m here for one reason: To get close to Yamada. I will not allow Alexander King to distract me no matter how ridiculous he looks draped over some random bottle-blondes.

  Yamada turns to me and holds out his arms. “Dime Piece! I knew you wouldn’t refuse Yamada! Come give Papa some love.”

  I hold back a laugh and an eye roll as I step into his embrace and hug the guy back. “This party is really something. Do you know all these people?”

  Yamada pulls back and then places his hands on his hips as he surveys the filled space. “No, but the bitch—”

  “Bitches love Yamada,” Alexander cuts him off. “I’m sure you’ve told her that one already.”

  I curl my lip at Alexander. “He can tell me again if he wants. You shouldn’t be a complete asshole and cut people off like that. It’s rude, and you’ve got a bad habit of doing it.”

  Alexander’s eyes narrow at me. He hates when I belittle him. This grumpy look he’s giving me is the same one I get every time I tell him something he doesn’t want to hear.

  Yamada bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yamada’s in love. Any woman who stands up to King earns my respect.” He grabs my arm. “Come on. Let’s go get you a drink.”

  He pulls me through the crowd to where he has two bartenders working what appears to be a full bar. “What are you drinking?”

  I bite my lower lip. “I don’t typically drink, so just a diet soda or water would be fine.”

  Yamada tilts his head and stares at me like I’ve just sprouted wings. “What? Are you one of those Christian-y types or something?”

  I shake my head. “No. I just like to keep my head on straight. People always seem to do crazy things when they drink.”

  The corner of Yamada’s mouth lifts into a half smile. “That’s kind of the point—to let loose and have some fun.”

  His words ring through my head and I think back on the phone conversation I had with my mother just before I boarded the plane. I did promise her that I would have at least one drink and not be a complete stiff while I was out here. What’s the worst that can happen?

  I push up to the bar and the cute dark-haired bartender looks my way with a smile on his face. “What can I get you?”

  “Can I get a screwdriver?” I ask and the guy nods and gets to work making my order.

  Yamada’s smile widens. “That’s the spirit.” He turns toward the bartender. “Make that two. We’re getting fucked up tonight!”

  Three drinks later, Yamada and I are dancing to some crazy techno sounding song that I’ve never heard, but with all the alcohol coursing through my veins, I’m not bothered that I might look like an idiot.

  Yamada sings along—complete with doing the rap to the song that completely comes out of nowhere. He flings his hands and points his fingers while spitting out the fast-paced words just like the guys do on the videos.

  “You’re pretty good at that,” I lean in to tell him. “You should be a rapper or something.”

  He smiles. “That’s exactly what Yamada’s going to be, waiting for his one shot to be discovered.”

  “Why don’t you make your own video and put it on YouTube or something? You have the money.”

  He nods. “Yamada might just do that while he’s here in the states. Good thinkin,’ Dime Piece. Beautiful and smart. No wonder you have King tripping all over himself.”

  I roll my eyes before I nod my head in the direction of the couch where we left Alexander sitting with the two women. “Clearly, he’s not. He couldn’t care less about me.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let that show over there fool you. Trust me. The Barbie Twins are a cover—for his own benefit—to make you think that he’s not thinking about you,when, in fact, he is. He just isn’t ready to admit it to you or himself yet that he cares.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “But I do,” he assures me. “He warned me that you were off-limits.”

  I shake my head. “That’s only because of my father. Alexander’s afraid that I’m here to try to mess up the deal the two of you have going for parts of my Buchanan Industries.”

  “That’s not it. Trust me. Alexander knows that nothing you
could do would pull my loyalty away from him.”

  That hurts, knowing there’s nothing I can do to make Yamada change his mind about my father’s company. I guess it’s time to face the facts. Alexander has won this war. It’s not fair and it’s wrong in so many ways, but there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to stop Yamada’s company from making a deal with Alexander.

  I sigh and drop my head. “I’m such an idiot. I’m a project to him—nothing more—and I’m stupid for letting him in my pants. I’m usually a lot smarter and don’t allow myself to lose control. He said he was going to torture me until I quit. I guess fucking me and then showing me that I mean nothing to him is his tactic to get me to do that.”

  Yamada tips my chin back up with his bent index finger. “Don’t discount yourself like that. The last girl King warned Yamada to stay away from was Jess, and he was madly in love with her. The guy turned into a jealous maniac whenever another man even thought about breathing in her direction. I haven’t seen him act that way—all possessive and shit—toward another woman since then—not until this weekend with you, that is.”

  I furrow my brow. “What are you saying?”

  Yamada sighs, and his eyes soften a bit. “He’s different with you. King can be an asshole—everyone knows that—but you have to be able to see past all that to see the real him.”

  I glance over at Alexander, who is watching Yamada and me intently. His words about seeing the real Alexander waft through my head as I remember how happy Alexander looked when I first spotted him tonight. Is it possible for me to even get to know that guy? Would he ever be like that with me?

  The short answer to that is no. It’s never going to happen. Alexander sees me as the enemy and nothing is ever going to change that. For some reason knowing that fact causes my stomach to twist.

  I take a deep breath. Being in this room while I break down can’t happen. I won’t allow Alexander King to see me cry. That implies weakness and I need to maintain a strong front when it comes to him.

  “I’ll be back,” I tell Yamada before I take off in search of a restroom.