King of Wall Street: a sexy, standalone, contemporary romance

by Louise Bay

  I giggled. “Glam squad? She’s fourteen, right?”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Going on twenty-seven.”

  “Coming,” I yelled, bending to pick up my bag. I hated to see overly made up teenagers, and I knew Max didn’t want his daughter to look like the twenty-seven-year-old she thought she was, so alongside some bits of my makeup, I’d brought a tinted moisturizer and a glittery lip gloss. Add in a bit of mascara and I didn’t think she’d need much else.

  “I’ll follow with the drinks,” Max said pulling out a tray as Violet and I made our way upstairs. As we passed a table on the landing, I bent to look more closely at a wedding picture.

  “Beautiful,” I said to myself. Amanda, dressed as a flower girl, stood alongside a bride and groom I didn’t recognize.

  “Pandora and Jason’s wedding,” Max said from behind me.

  He had his ex’s wedding photo up in his house? “Wow, that’s …” I wanted to say weird because it was, but it was also sweet and open hearted and all the things I knew Max to be.

  “Pandora’s beautiful,” I said, turning to look over my shoulder at Max. He nodded as if it were just a statement of fact.

  Amanda’s room was everything I’d expected of a normal fourteen-year-old girl. A Pitch Perfect poster over her bed, a blue-and-white-striped bedspread, and full bookshelves running across the length of one wall. Despite the house being large, it was all about family. There were no airs or graces.

  “How about a face mask while Violet dries your hair?” I suggested.

  Amanda grinned. “That would be awesome.”

  Max set the tray down.

  “Thanks, Dad. Make sure you put the oven on for the lasagna.” She took a champagne glass from her father, who obviously wanted to make her feel special. “You’ll love it, Harper. My dad’s a great chef and pasta is his specialty.”

  It was sweet that she thought I was staying for dinner. I didn’t need to set her straight. I’d pull Max to the side before he left to take Amanda and then when he’d had a chance to consider what I had to say, maybe he’d call. Hopefully he’d forgive me.

  “Thank you, peanut, but I think I can handle the stove.” He continued to speak but held my gaze and I couldn’t look away. “And anyway, Harper hasn’t agreed to stay for dinner yet.”

  My heart fluttered, suddenly beating twice as fast. He wanted me to stay for dinner. But I hadn’t apologized yet.

  “But she will, won’t you, Harper? Keep my dad company while I’m at the dance?”

  “Amanda,” Max warned.

  “Dad, ask her. She can’t say yes until you do. Tell him, Violet.”

  “It may sound like my daughter is strong-arming me into this, which is the last thing I want you to think.” He sighed, shaking his head at his sister and daughter. “And I really appreciate getting the opportunity to ask you in front of the two most interfering women on this planet.” Max turned to look at me. “But I’d really like you to stay to dinner so we can talk and hopefully set things straight between us.” He pushed his hands through his hair.

  I tried to hide my grin. I wasn’t sure what set things straight meant. I hoped at the very least it would mean we wouldn’t hate each other. But a huge part of me really wanted more, more than I deserved. I wanted Max. I had to believe I wasn’t too late.

  “Lasagna’s my favorite,” I replied.

  *

  “Oh my God, I remember when she was born,” Violet said as we came down the stairs after primping Amanda for as long as we could stretch out. “It seems like yesterday. And now …”

  Max slung his phone on the counter and raised his eyebrows, instantly in the moment with his family despite whatever corporate emergency was bound to be causing him stress. “Is she ready?” he asked. He’d left us to primp and prime his daughter, but was clearly as invested in the event as the rest of us were.

  I nodded. “She’s coming.”

  Violet had put some waves in Amanda’s hair, so it looked very natural falling over her shoulders. And although I’d spent a lot of time on her makeup, it could have been done in two minutes—it was just a little mascara and a touch of lip gloss. Hopefully Max would approve.

  I watched Max as he gazed at his daughter coming down the stairs in the blue and silver dress we’d picked out. His eyes went glassy and he tilted his head. “Peanut, you look completely beautiful.”

  My heart squeezed. I wanted to reach out for him.

  He walked toward her and she stepped back, putting her hands up to stop him from coming closer.

  “You can’t touch me; you’ll ruin my hair or smudge my makeup.”

  He chuckled, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re getting so tall. Are you going to FaceTime your mom?”

  She shook her head. “She’ll just get emotional. We took some photos. I’ll send them tomorrow.”

  She might only be fourteen but worrying about her mother’s feelings in a situation that was really all about her showed a great deal about her character. A personality that had been shaped in part by the man I’d so foolishly let go.

  I hung back as Scarlett and Violet gathered their things and ushered Amanda out the door. Max followed, then stopped to lean against the doorway.

  Before she got in the car, Amanda turned and waved. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Harper. Enjoy your date.”

  I got the impression Amanda would be very happy to see our dinner become something more than apology and air clearing and that gave me some hope she knew something of Max’s intentions.

  We watched them drive off until their taillights had completely disappeared.

  “She’s beautiful, Max,” I said.

  “She is. Thank you for being here, for helping her. I wanted this to be special; she’s been so excited.”

  “It’s been a total pleasure. You didn’t want to go with them?” I asked as Max closed the door.

  “Amanda wouldn’t let me. I think she was concerned I’d kick Callum Ryder’s ass given half a chance. And anyway, we have things to talk about,” he replied. He held my gaze and my breathing hitched.

  I had things to apologize for. “Max, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I’ve been an idiot and selfish and I lost all judgment when it came to JD Stanley. You did nothing wrong …” My words were running together; I wanted to get them all out before he had a chance to say anything that would make it harder to get them out, wanted to make him see how I understood he’d done nothing wrong. I covered my face with my hands.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry.” He removed my hands from my face and threaded his fingers through mine. “We were involved and I didn’t think through the consequences of accepting your father’s ultimatum. I have no experience mixing the personal and the professional, so I didn’t think about you or your feelings. I should have.”

  “It wasn’t as if we were serious, but if we had been …”

  He squeezed my hands and heat travelled up my body. “Maybe I gave you the impression that it was just sex, but I’m not sure it was ever that for me. I want to take you out on dates, to have you here with me and Amanda. I want to talk and laugh and wake up together.” He sighed and shook his head. “I thought we had time. I missed the bit where I told you how important you were to me. I told you I’ve had zero practice at this stuff.”

  My stomach twisted. “I was important?” Did that mean he’d moved on?

  “Was and are,” he said. “I’m just so sorry I screwed it up.”

  How was he making this so easy for me? I’d expected to have to try to convince him, talk him round.

  It wasn’t too late. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself. “You didn’t. We’d made no promises to each other, and my issues with my father aren’t your battles to fight.”

  “I want your battles to be my battles,” he replied.

  The corners of my lips twitched. “You do?”

  He nodded. “And I’m ready to make any promises you want. I want to be the man who deserves you. The man who will do anything f
or the woman he loves.”

  I swallowed. “Loves?” I stepped toward him until our bodies were almost touching.

  He shrugged. “Yeah. I love you and I need you to know. And I want you to give me a chance. I’m going to get this wrong. A lot. I haven’t had much practice—I’ll need you to stick with me.”

  “Max, I’ve never trusted a man. I don’t know how to be that woman.” I’d never expected a relationship to work before, never needed it to. “You’re going to have to be patient with me, but I promise I will do my best if you give me another chance.”

  “You can have a lifetime of chances,” he said. “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t forgive you for.” His eyes were soft and I reached out and stroked his jaw. He was still breathtakingly handsome but somehow the photographs I’d seen of him before I knew him had never done him justice. They’d not seen what a beautiful soul he had, what a wonderful father he was.

  I tilted my head to one side. “You know someone told me about this thing Michael Jordan once said.” I released his hands and smoothed my palms up his chest, staring up at him. “He said, ‘I’ve missed more than nine-thousand shots in my career and I’ve lost almost three-hundred games.’”

  Max lifted an eyebrow.

  I continued. “He said, ‘I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.’”

  I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug as he slid his hands around my waist. “Some guy I’m in love with told me about it. I think he’d say that we should keep trying until we win.”

  Max’s grin made my stomach swoop. “Sounds like a smart guy.” He paused, then said, “Sounds like a lucky guy.” He pulled me closer and pressed his lips against mine. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  His tongue trailed along my lips before pushing in to find my tongue. I’d forgotten how urgent his mouth was, how passionate his kisses could be. With every second, my knees got weaker, my breaths got shorter, but I wanted more.

  We separated, panting, our foreheads resting against each other. “I’ve missed you, too.” I slid my arms around his neck. As he lifted me, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “Lasagna will have to wait,” he said as he carried me toward the stairs. “I’ve fantasized about having you in this house a million times. I’ve dreamt about bending you over on the kitchen counter and fucking you from behind, thought about laying you out on the dining table and making your pussy quiver with my tongue. But right now I’m going to make love to you in my bed.”

  When we got to the bedroom, I unwrapped myself from Max’s body and pulled his shirt from his jeans, undoing the buttons keeping his skin from mine. I wanted time to take in where I was, to get to know more about Max, to hear stories of the black-and-white photographs that lined his bedroom walls and to understand why he’d chosen the huge mahogany four-poster bed. But his touch temporarily wiped all my questions from my head.

  “These have been driving me crazy,” he said, reaching under my shorts and cupping my ass.

  “They had the desired effect then,” I replied.

  “Harper, you could turn up in a trash bag and it would work magic on me.”

  “I know that feeling,” I said.

  When we were both naked, we stood, staring into each other’s eyes, Max cupping my face. “It’s so good to have you here,” he whispered. “I’ve missed your beautiful, soft skin.” He smoothed his hands over my breasts, around my waist, and across my ass, “Your perfectly wet pussy.” He dipped his hand between my legs and groaned. “I’ve missed this. Your sounds, your wetness.”

  My skin tightened and I shivered.

  “I’ve got to be inside you. I’ll take my time with you later, but I need to feel you around me. I need to be close.”

  It was what I needed, too.

  He spun us around, then pushed me against the wall. Lifting my leg, he rubbed his tip along the length of my sex.

  “Max, condom,” I said, breathless and desperate.

  He shook his head. “I just had my annual checks. I’m all good.”

  Oh. I hadn’t slept with anyone but him since I’d last been tested. “Me too, and I’m on the pill.”

  I moaned as he pushed into me and stilled. “Good,” he said.

  “Max.” I tightened my fingers around his arms. I needed him to wait a few seconds for me to adjust to him. After not having him for so long, in this position, he seemed to fill me more than usual.

  He increased his rhythm. “I’m not going to be able to last long, and after I’m done, I’m going to have you on the bed, then in the shower. I’m going to be inside you for hours.”

  The thought of the relentless drive of his dick in and out of me chased my breath from my lungs.

  “Once is never enough with you. I need you all the time, forever.”

  I felt as if I were cycling toward the top of a mountain, panting and moaning, desperate to get to the top. As Max thrust into me again, his dick reaching deep inside me, I found myself at the summit. I arched my back as I began to freewheel down the other side.

  “I love you,” I whispered into the wind.

  Max was right behind me, grunting my name in my ear as he jabbed his hips into me so sharply it would have hurt if it weren’t for the insulating effect of my orgasm. “I love you,” he shouted out.

  His skin was hot and sticky with exertion when I put my arms around him, pressing my breasts to his chest, hoping I could attach myself to him permanently. He lifted my ass and I wrapped my legs around him as he walked us toward the bed, still joined, him still inside me. He sat on the edge of the bed, my knees coming to rest on either side of him.

  “Lie back,” I said. His eyes looked dazed as he did what I said. “I wasn’t too late,” I mumbled as I began to move my hips, just slightly, enjoying the feel of him still inside me.

  He reached toward my breasts, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs as he looked up. His touch melted me around my edges. I contracted my muscles, trying to stem the wetness his touch released.

  He groaned, and slipped one hand down to my clit. “Too late?”

  I wasn’t sure I could get the words out to clarify. Already I wanted him again, wanted to make the climb up the mountain, even though I was still out of breath from my first trip.

  “I was worried you’d be …” I gasped as he increased the pressure on my clit. “I was …” I couldn’t speak or move while ribbons of pleasure unraveled over and through me. My brain didn’t have capacity.

  As if he understood, Max lifted his hips off the bed and I stilled, happy to sit on him, to be taken by him.

  “Tell me what you were worried about,” Max said, the muscles in his neck straining.

  I pressed my palms against his chest. “That it was too late for us,” I said.

  He grabbed my hips and rolled me to my back. “Never,” he said as he pushed into me. “Not ever.”

  It was just what I needed to hear. I reached up and traced my fingers over his eyebrows. “I love you.” I couldn’t stop repeating those words. I’d never said them to any man before. No one before Max had ever deserved them.

  My orgasm crept up on me, pushing through my body like a tremor: silent, intense, and powerful.

  “Oh God, your face when you come.” Max growled and thrust again, erupting into me.

  He rolled off me, then pulled me toward him.

  “When I get my breath back I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin, then make you come with my tongue.”

  “We may run out of time.” I fingered his hair. “I have to make my way back to the city.”

  He squeezed me tighter. “Stay. Don’t ever leave.”

  I chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Things feel a little different,” I said. Perhaps because we were away from the city. Perhaps because I knew how painful losing him had been and knew I’d work hard never to make that mistake again. “I don’t know why, I just—”

  “I think it feels like the be
ginning of forever,” he replied simply.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Max

  “Come in,” I barked without looking away from my laptop. I thought I was the last one in the office. I was keen to get this piece of work finished and get back to the apartment and get my girl naked, and I didn’t really want any interruptions.

  “I’m looking for the King of Wall Street,” Harper said as she opened my door.

  I pushed my chair back from my desk. “Hey, I thought I was meeting you back at the apartment.”

  She walked toward me, rounding my desk, trailing her hands over the papers stacked up on it. “I couldn’t wait,” she replied, placing her purse on the table by the window.

  I swiveled my chair so I was facing her. “How was dinner with your father?” Harper and her dad had seen each other a couple of times in the last few months.

  “It was good.” At times I wondered whether or not it was worth the tears that often followed one of their meetings, but she assured me she was crying over their history not their future. If she wanted to try to build a relationship with her father, I was happy to support her in anything she did. “Nice actually. We’re getting to know each other a bit better now.” She leaned forward and unknotted my tie. “And I thought I’d come back here and make sure you were keeping focused.” Gently, she pulled my tie from my neck and sat on my desk. “I remember how you used to tell me how you weren’t so focused when I worked here,” she said, pulling up her skirt a little, revealing more of her long, brown thighs.

  “Yeah,” I said, a little dazed by the woman in front of me. “It’s better for the bottom line that you don’t work here anymore.”

  “I agree,” she said, pushing my chair around with her foot so I was facing her.

  “I like your shoes,” I said. They were the first pair I’d bought her from Jimmy Choo. I was becoming quite the regular customer. I’d never seen her wear them outside of the bedroom and they seemed a little much for dinner with her father.

  She began unbuttoning her blouse. “I remember you saying you used to think about me …” She opened the cream silk, revealing her high, tight breasts. “… here.” She leaned back. “On your desk.”