The Misters: Books 1-5 Box Set

by JA Huss

  “That’s because you don’t know me.”

  “That’s because you never told me anything about you!”

  “I’m a private person, Miss Hatcher. I don’t dream up fantasies and then dole out tidbits of my personal life to almost strangers who have no interest like you do.”

  “I hate you,” I snap. “That was a low blow.”

  “Really? So you didn’t spill your fantasies to Heath’s phone? I just imagined that?”

  “He was never supposed to see them!”

  “Then why send them?”

  “It was like…” Fuck. “It was just a fun way to… shit, I don’t know. But I shouldn’t have to explain it. All that stuff was my private thoughts and you read them! It’s like… it’s like reading a person’s diary!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Mac

  She’s right. I take a deep breath and say it out loud. “You’re right.”

  “I’m… right?” she asks, unsure of herself.

  “Yes, you’re right. And I’m sorry. But I was pissed off when I finally figured out that you’d rather stay home all weekend alone than let me take you out on a nice date.”

  “I just needed things to slow down, Mac. That’s all.”

  “Then why lie?”

  “I didn’t…” But she stops. Because she did. “I’m sorry then. I wanted to go out on the date but I felt bulldozed. You know?”

  I look her up and down in that dress and shake my head.

  “You don’t? Why not?”

  But that’s not what I mean and she figures that out pretty fast. That fingernail she likes to chew comes up to her perfect lips and she shifts her feet, which makes her hips wiggle.

  “Come here,” I say, sliding her laptop to the side and scooting her chair back to give her room. “Come here and bend over the desk.”

  “Mac,” she says sharply.

  “We had a whole week of space, Ellie, and I’ve had enough of it. Come here, right now, and bend over this fucking desk.”

  She inches forward, her knees practically glued together in that dress, and stands in front of me.

  I twirl my finger in the air and say, “Turn around and bend over.”

  Ellie closes her eyes and lets out a long breath of air. She stays still for two seconds, then turns around, places her palms flat on the desk, and bends forward at the waist, resting her cheek on the wooden surface.

  He ass is fucking spectacular and my hands can’t control themselves. I place both palms on each of her cheeks and rub her until she lets out a small moan.

  “We’re a thing now, Ellie. OK? Can you deal?”

  “OK,” she whispers.

  “We’re together, we’re going away this weekend, and fuck that five-date limit. I’m going to have my way with you right here, right now.” She sucks in a small sip of air as I unzip her dress from the bottom up, slowly revealing the back of her knees, then her thighs, then her ass.

  She’s wearing white mesh panties and her pink pussy is peeking right through them.

  This is exactly what I pictured when I bought this dress last week. My fantasy of Eloise Hatcher might not be up to her level of dreaming, but this is it. Exactly.

  I move her panties aside and slip my finger up to her folds, tracing my way around her entrance as my dick grows and my heart races. “Tell me,” I say. “I like to hear it.”

  I’d like to watch her say it too, but her hair is covering her face. That’s something going on my fantasy list. I want to watch her mouth talk dirty to me as I finger the fuck out of her pussy.

  “Put your finger inside me,” she whispers. “Far,” she adds.

  It’s enough. For now. I twist my hand a little so I can play with her g-spot as I ease in. She buckles her back and I get a tiny glimpse of her pink mouth as she moans, “Oh!”

  “Now what?” I ask. I want to keep her talking. I don’t want her to stop.

  “Stand up,” she says.

  I smile, but push the chair back and stand.

  “Push your hips up to my ass.”

  Oh, yeah. This is nice. I smile wide as I force my hips into her ass, grinding my dick against her curves. My finger slips out of her pussy and she says, “No,” but I reach around her front and slip it back in to quiet her protest.

  “You like this, Ellie? You like it when I stick my fingers in your pussy?”

  “Mmmm-hmmm,” she says. “I missed you this week.”

  Awww. Fuck. I lean down on her back and ease my knee between her legs. “Ellie,” I breathe into her neck, trying my best not to bite her ear. “I was miserable all week. I came to work today hoping we could try again. And I’m sorry I was a dick.”

  “Fuck me,” she says. “Fuck me and make it all better.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I chuckle.

  I stand back up and reach in to my pocket for the little foil condom packet. She looks over her shoulder at me when I rip it open and I say, “Not my brother’s this time.”

  She grins and then closes her eyes. “You came prepared?”

  “I came hoping, Ellie. That’s all.” I slip the condom on and grab her by the hips, then ease back and hook my fingers around her panties, dragging them down her thighs until they come to a rest around her knees. “Open your legs,” I say, placing a hand on her back and pushing her into the desk.

  She obeys, her legs opening until her panties are stretched to their maximum and she can’t go any further.

  I look down and take a mental picture. I’m going to jerk off later thinking about how she looks.

  My free hand makes a fist around my cock and I press it against her pussy, flicking it back and forth to tease the wetness out and make me slick. And then I push into her. Hard. She gasps, her head coming up off the desk, but I grab her hair and force her down again.

  I lean into her back, bite her shoulder, then whisper in her ear. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, Eloise.”

  “Please,” she whimpers. “Do it. Hard. I want it hard this time. Make me feel it. Make me remember it.”

  I stand up straight, then thrust inside her, the full length of my cock disappearing as I look down and watch. Her lips part, and the slick wetness pools against the side of my shaft.

  “Harder,” she begs. “Harder.”

  Her wish is granted. I thrust again, then again. And each time, she lets out a moan. And each moan gets louder and more uninhibited. I know they can hear us outside this office, but I don’t care.

  I push her dress out of the way and grab her hips, forcing her back against me, forcing my dick deeper and deeper inside her, until the impact of our skin-on-skin contact makes a slapping sound that echoes off the walls of her office.

  We come together. And it’s sweet, and thrilling, and erotic as fuck. She doesn’t scream—not exactly. But it’s close.

  And I smile.

  She might be leaving next week, but she’s not getting away.

  I collapse on top of her back and kiss her neck. “You’re leaving early today, Miss Hatcher. I require your attendance down on the tarmac in twenty minutes.” I step back and rip the condom off as I walk into my office. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Ellie

  Don’t keep me waiting.

  Is that hot? Or not?

  I can’t tell.

  McAllister Stonewall certainly has an air of superiority about him. I’m sure it comes with the territory. Billionaire’s son, trust fund, accountable to no one.

  But he did apologize and he did admit he was wrong. That counts for something. I’m not sure what yet. But something.

  All week I’ve been thinking about him. But why? It’s not the money. I’m not rich by any means, but I’m not poor either. I’m a saver. I live in a Tech Center apartment to save gas on a long commute and because it’s kind of a dead area. A place to work, not to live. So the apartments are new, nice, and affordable.

  And I really do believe in my book. I believe in my new career. I know that my life forward involves intimate
one-on-one meetings with people who need guidance. My degree might be in communications, but I minored in psychology, and I’ve had enough people tell me my words make a difference to them to believe in myself. I think leaving is a good idea. I think I’ll be successful.

  No. Mac’s money is not the source of the nagging desire that’s been floating around inside me all week.

  It’s certainly got something to do with his good looks. He’s taller than Heath. Not by much, but it’s noticeable. And while his blond hair is technically short, it’s long in all the right places. Enough to give it that messy look that drives women wild. The just-rolled-out-of-bed look. The just-ran-my-fingers-through-it look. The just-lie-back-and-enjoy-it look.

  But no. It’s not the way he looks. That’s not what’s got my attention.

  I do like his bossiness. Which walks that fine line just between rude and fuck-hot. It’s definitely a contributor.

  I guess it’s all of that put together that makes him seem so… perfect. Maybe too perfect?

  The thing that really nags at me though—the thing that has been nagging at me since the day I first looked at him a little closer—is this missing past business. There’s something wrong with that. Like he was erased. How powerful does one have to be to erase themselves from the internet?

  It can’t be done even if it appears it has been done.

  The power, I realize. I like his power. I like the way he talks to me. The way he assumes I will just obey his commands. The way he holds me still when I feel like things are spinning out of control. The way he pulls me close.

  Maybe this is just some stupid end-of-job fling. It probably is. But it’s fun. Like he said. It’s fun.

  I have to contort myself to get my dress straightened out. The zipper is almost impossible to reach and while I don’t need to pull it all the way down to my knees again—mission accomplished there—I do need it to cover my round ass.

  I chuckle a little at the thought. How I must have looked to Mac as I was bent over the desk, the dress unzipped to my waist, my white panties not enough to prevent him from getting a good look at the desire spilling out from between my legs.

  Yes. It’s the power.

  He’s self-assured. He’s confident. He’s commanding.

  I like all of that.

  I shuffle through my large pink clutch until I come up with a compact and open it.

  Jesus. I looked well-fucked.

  My cheeks are rosy, my eye makeup is slightly smudged, my hair is messy, and my lipstick is gone.

  I suddenly have the desire to walk out of this office just the way I am. Let everyone see how this man affects me. Let them all know what’s been going on.

  “No, Ellie,” I say with a smile. “That will not do.”

  So I take a few moments to put myself back together, smooth my dress down with the palms of my hands, grab my clutch, and open my office door.

  A round of applause echoes throughout the seventh floor and I feel my whole body go hot.

  “Oh, shut up!” I say. But I’m smiling with satisfaction as I walk over to the elevator and press the call button. I guess I got my wish after all.

  Mac is waiting for me at the bottom of the airstairs when I make it over to the tarmac. “I texted you, didn’t you get it?”

  “I was in the train tunnel,” I say. “Sorry. Did I take too long?”

  “Twenty-seven minutes, Miss Hatcher. You made it just in time.”

  “Just in time?” I ask, having a hard time keeping my grin hidden from him as we turn towards the jet and walk up the stairs.

  “Just in time to avoid the punishment if you were late.”

  “Something tells me that might’ve been fun.”

  “Test me next time, and find out. The reason I texted was because we have a change of plans. My… father called and says Brutus is expecting us at his house this afternoon.”

  “Brutus? Why?” This can’t be good.

  “Senior wants that interview and he says we fucked it up, so we have to fix it. So we’re on our way to Santa Fe to talk Brutus into it.”

  “Oh, for the love of God. This will not be fun.”

  “Well, sometimes we all have to do things that aren’t fun. Brutus specifically asked for you, so if he reams you a new one for trying to kill him last week, you need to be good.”

  “Be good?” I sneer. “You ask like I’m some kind of ridiculous person!”

  “Ellie,” Mac says with eyebrows up and a crooked smile. “Please. You and I both know the level of crazy you’re capable of. So just be good.” Mac repeats this in his bossy authoritative tone.

  Which only gets my hackles up more. He’s known me a week and he thinks he understands my level of crazy. “Number one, Mac, I’m not ridiculous. I think we just agreed that you had no business inserting yourself into my fantasy life. Which is completely, one hundred percent healthy. It was harmless fun before you came along and tore my world apart.”

  “Tore your world—? Ellie, come on. I came to work, you sent me messages. I didn’t do anything other than react. But anyway, we can talk all that out later—”

  “Talk all what out later?” I’m genuinely confused. We just had makeup sex, right? What’s to talk about?

  “Because Stonewall Senior has heard rumors about us.”

  “No!” Aw, shit.

  “Yes. He said he’s going to come into town to talk, so we need to be on our best behavior today and get this guy to agree to reschedule the interview.”

  How could things go so wrong in twenty-seven minutes?

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Ellie

  Mac is on the phone the entire two-hour ride down to Santa Fe while I sit in the seat across from him bored out of my mind. Typically, when I fly I take something with me. An e-reader and those noise-cancelling headphones.

  But I have my purse and nothing else, so I keep myself busy eating Life Savers and thumbing through an outdated People magazine that the flight attendant hands to me out of pity. Probably because Mac is so busy. And it isn’t even interesting busy, either. It’s a very boring one-sided conversation that I can’t make heads or tails of. It’s like he’s talking in code, purposefully making sure I can’t glean any information about the topic under discussion.

  I don’t understand why they have to sell Stonewall Entertainment. It’s so successful. I mean, I guess I don’t know all the inside numbers, but they certainly don’t spare any expense courting big names for interviews and appearances on the shows they care about most.

  Mac is still on the phone when we land, and only pauses long enough to point me to the door. We exit at a small airport with no jetway, just airstairs. So we walk across the tarmac, enter the terminal, and make our way out towards baggage claim where a man in a dark suit is waiting with a sign that says ‘Stonewall.’

  Mac finally hangs up and starts chatting to the driver as I follow along like an afterthought. Why am I even here? Surely Brutus can’t want to see me after I caused him a life-threatening emergency last week.

  “OK,” Mac says, after we slide into the town car. “Here’s the plan. I don’t want you interacting with him so we’re going to go in there, you apologize profusely, and then I’ll take over and see if we can’t work out something for next month.”

  I have nothing but a sigh for that.

  “Ellie? Are you paying attention to me?”

  “Of course I’m paying attention. It’s not like I’ve been the one on the phone for the past two hours ignoring you.”

  “Sorry,” he says with a small smile. “I had to deal with some stuff with the sale. We have to plan it right so investors don’t cut and run at the first sign of movement.”

  “Why do you have to sell anyway?” I say. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me,” I sneer. “And stop treating me like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m incapable of understanding details. I live details, Mac. I’ve been running these celebrity
guests for seven years and this is the first time I’ve messed up since my first week on the job.”

  “I know, Ellie. It’s just this is a big interview. If we can get Brutus to show up after the first sale then it will let investors know we’re still in business.”

  “But if you’re not ‘still in business’”—I do little air quotes around that—“then why are you lying?”

  “We’re not lying, just holding our cards close.”

  I give up and turn to look out the window. “How far is this place?”

  “Not far. He’s got some kind of compound inside the city, I guess. So listen,” he says, turning his body to me. “We’ll get back in time for dinner tonight. Where would you like to go?”

  “Dinner?” I ask, not looking at him. “I’m not sure I feel like dinner. I hate flying. It wears me out. I’ll probably just go home and sleep.”

  “No, Ellie. You won’t. We’re going out.”

  We’ll see about that, I think to myself. Why did I spend the entire week pining over him and now everything he says and does annoys me?

  “Ellie?” Mac asks sharply.

  “What?” I snap back.

  “Why are you tuning me out?”

  “I guess I’m just not capable of understanding the details,” I say with an uninterested sigh.

  “Listen,” he says, taking my arm and turning me towards him. “Sorry I was busy, but believe me, you’re not interested in the business I was dealing with. Trust me.”

  “Sure,” I say. “Whatever.”

  “Why are you so irritated with me?”

  “OK,” I say. “I’ll tell you. It’s because you drag me along on to this stupid meeting and then practically tell me to wait in the car while you do your business. It’s demeaning.”

  “Don’t take it so personally, Eloise. It’s just work. And I realize that I’m not the best example for separating work from personal life, but let’s give it a try today.”

  I’ve heard enough. “Fine.”

  “Good.” We pull up to some massive adobe wall with an equally intimidating iron gate at the front, and the driver rolls his window down and tells them who we are. The guard looks in, then waves for the other guard to open the gate for us. “Now, let’s just stick to the plan. Don’t engage him too much, OK? Just apologize, then I’ll ask you to go get me a drink or something—”