Tiger Shark

by LP Lovell

  He throws his head back on a growl, thrusting even harder. I watch a bead of sweat roll down the stubble of his throat and in between his pecs before it drops onto my chest. My back bows as I spread my legs wider, pushing my heels into the mattress and meeting him on every thrust. He presses his face into my neck, letting out a groan as he picks up the pace, fucking me faster. My core tightens, and my skin prickles with heat as the orgasm rips through me. My pussy clamps down on his dick, and a guttural roar leaves his lips as he braces on his forearms, throwing his head back as his thrusts become stiff and disjointed.

  He collapses on top of me, and I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath. Our slick bodies slide against each other, and I honestly can’t remember ever being fucked that hard.

  “Next time, I’m going to fuck that tight arse of yours, kitten.” He says, kissing me quickly before he pushes off me. The smug curve of his lips makes me scowl, bringing me down from my sex haze.

  “There won’t be a next time.” I say, breathlessly.

  He gets dressed before he casually strolls over to the bed. He stands over me, his eyes tracing the lines of my naked body before he offers me his hand. I take it, allowing him to pull me upright. His eyes lock with mine as he drops to a crouch between my knees. His other hand moves to the back of my neck, cupping my nape and pulling me forward roughly.

  His lips twist into a wry smile. “We’ll see.” I open my mouth to speak, but he presses his lips to mine, invading my mouth with his tongue. When he pulls away, I can’t remember what I was going to say. “Remember Kitten; you asked for this. I’m not done with you yet.”

  And then he stands up, turns around and walks out of the room, leaving me naked and speechless on the bed. I glance at my shredded dress on the floor. Arsehole. Good job Masque is prepared for just such a situation. It is a sex club after all.

  An entire weekend of being in my apartment has not been good. It’s given me too much time to think. Too much time to repeat Friday night over and over in my mind like a damn porno, watching him control and dominate me in every way, watching myself moan like a whore while he did it. When I propositioned him, it was as a means of controlling the situation and instigating the when, where and how, but the only thing I managed to control was the when and where because the how was all him.

  I should have hated the feel of his hands around my throat, him holding me down and taking what he wanted, but I didn’t, and that worries me. For him to not only control me but for me to like it…not good.

  It’s Sunday evening, and Quinn is sat on my sofa, glass of wine in hand as she watches me fidget and pace in front of the coffee table.

  “So what are you going to do?” She asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  She sighs and leans forward, placing the wine glass on the table and clasping her hands together as her eyes meet mine. “I’m going to give you some tough love.” Great. “You made the decision to fuck him against your better judgment.” I open my mouth to respond, and she holds up her hand. “And with good reasoning, so suck it up, princess. Fuck him again, ignore him, quit, whatever, but don’t whine about something that you instigated. You’re an adult. Deal with it.”

  I glare at her. “You’re a bitch.”

  She shrugs, picking up her glass and falling back against the sofa cushions. “Ah, but I’m right.” She is. Shit.

  Monday morning, I’m so anxious, that I’m up and in the gym by six o’clock. I run until my legs are numb and sweat coats my entire body. Running usually clears my mind, but not today. When I get to work, I tap my foot anxiously, waiting for the lift to make its way to the top of the building. When I step off, I don’t even spare a glance at Susan. I’m just going to go in, hand my resignation to Angus and walk out. Of course, I’ll work a month’s notice. I’ll have to; those are the terms of my contract. And seeing as I’m not willing to admit to Angus the real reason for me leaving, it’s an amicable termination of contract, and therefore the terms must be adhered to. At least Landon will know where I stand, though. It was a mistake.

  My stomach churns horribly as I step into the office. Landon is nowhere to be seen, and I release the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as I walk over to his empty desk and pop the envelope in the centre. I pause for a second, my eyes locked on the white paper as I swallow hard. I like Angus. I like this job. I don’t want to leave, but it’s for the best. My life has always been black and white, clear-cut, simple and with a sole focus in mind. Now Landon has suddenly painted it in a kaleidoscope of greys in the space of two short weeks. He’s a black mark on my otherwise unblemished record and the fact that I allowed that all for the sake of lust…it makes me sick. So you see I need to leave, I have to get away from him, away from this, because despite what I previously thought, I’m not stupid enough to think that we can simply forget about it. I certainly can’t.

  I force myself to turn around and walk out. I go back to my office, and start work for the day, waiting anxiously for the phone to ring, and for Angus to call me up to his office.

  Eva bustles in and out, flashing nervous glances at me and continuously asking if I’m okay. I shoo her away every time, sending her on menial tasks that really don’t need doing. Of course, she knows that, and it makes her more suspicious. I’m not a person that makes friends easily, but I like Eva, so I make every effort not to be a bitch, and trust me, it doesn’t come easy.

  It’s nearly midday when my office door bursts open, and Landon walks in without knocking, closing and locking the door behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place seems to reverberate around the room far more loudly than it should.

  He turns to face me, placing his hands on his hips as he tilts his face down, focusing on the ground. His usually immaculate image is ruffled this morning. His jacket and tie are missing, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, exposing his thick forearms. His hair is dishevelled as though he’s been dragging his hands through it all morning. Taking a shaky breath, I remember what it felt like to have my fingers in his hair, his cock inside me, his tongue on me, his body against mine. My mind replays the image of him moving beneath me, his biceps tensing as he forced me down on his cock, his abs rolling with every thrust. Oh god. I squeeze my thighs together as my underwear becomes uncomfortably wet. I fight the urge to fan myself as a hot flush works over my skin. And the entire time he just stands there, refusing to look at me. Yep, I definitely need to leave. I wait, my heart beating so loudly I’m sure he can hear it in the deafening silence of the room.

  “Why?” He asks, lifting his gaze to mine, making me squirm under his scrutiny. I clench my fists under the desk, letting my nails bite into the palms of my hands in an attempt to pull my mind out of the damn gutter.

  “You know why.” I breathe. I can’t even speak properly.

  He narrows his eyes at me, tilting his head to the side as he takes slow strides towards the desk. He leans over, bracing his palms against the wood. I sit back, trying to put as much space as possible between us. A smirk takes over his face, but it’s not the usual sexy smirk, this one is twisted with something dark and hard. “Did I miss something?” He asks. I frown in confusion. “Because the last I checked, you were the one who invited me to your secret sex club, and now you’re running.” He shakes his head. “I thought you could separate the two, Georgia.” Unease crawls over me at the hint of disappointment in his voice. Wait, what? Why the fuck do I give a shit what he thinks? This is about me and my career. No, this is about my self-respect.

  I fix my expression into a steely mask and push up from my chair, stepping closer to him until the desk bumps the front of my thighs. “I’m not running. I’m doing what’s best for my career.” I growl through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t care if you go. There are a hundred brokers ready to take your place, but Angus already thinks I fucked you. He’s going to bitch like a motherfucker.”

  I glare at him. “Why would he think that? What did you say?” I snap.

  He til
ts his head to the side. “It might have something to do with the fact that most days you look at me like you want to fuck me and slit my throat at the same time.” I fucking do!

  “I do not look at you like I want to fuck you.” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. Eva is a nosy bitch, and totally on team ‘fuck Landon’, so she probably has her ear pressed to the door right now. “See, this is why I’m leaving.” I say, stabbing my finger into the desk and scowling at him.

  “Why are you whispering?” He says, bringing his face even closer to me.

  I stand upright again, throwing my hands in the air. “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because I don’t want the entire office to know that I fucked the boss!” I hiss under my breath.

  He rolls his eyes and moves around the desk. I mirror his action, putting more space between us as he tries to close it. Eventually, I end up on the other side in a standoff, while he stands in front of my chair, an incredulous look on his face.

  “Really?” He sighs, dragging a hand over the stubble on his face. “You invited me to that club knowing that you would have to walk back in here afterwards. What changed?” I shake my head, squeeze my eyes shut, and bite down on my bottom lip. I stay like that for long moments, trying to drag my scrambled thoughts into some sort of order. I don’t hear him move, until his chest brushes against my arm. My eyes flash open, and I glance sideways at him. “What changed?” He asks again, softer this time.

  My eyes meet his, and there’s a beat of silence, an anxious pause that seems to stretch between us. “I fucked up.” I tell him.

  He leans in close to my side, dropping his face so his lips are at my ear. “You lost control.” He breathes. “And now you’re panicking.” God, he’s right. He’s completely right. I was stupid to think that I would ever have even an ounce of control when it comes to this man, though.

  “Like I said, I fucked up.” I turn my face so that our lips are almost touching. “Rule number one: Never fuck the boss.”

  His lips twitch, forming a wry smile. “In this office, I’m your boss, but in that club I’m no one, remember?” I nod. “Just a guy in a mask.”

  Just a guy in a mask. If only that were the case. Landon Banks could never be ‘just’ anything no matter how hard he tries. I frown, tearing my gaze from his and focusing on the London skyline, each skyscraper reflected in the windows of the next, like a giant house of mirrors. I take a deep breath before I turn back to him. “It’s really that simple for you?” I ask, the sexual tension that I’ve become so used to crackling between us like a living thing. I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to my lips again for just the briefest moment.

  “It’s that simple.” He assures me, stepping back and holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “See, no need to leave.” He smirks.

  I press my lips together, thinking the situation over in my mind. I go backwards and forwards while he watches me the entire time, waiting patiently for my response. “I need to think it over.”

  He says nothing as he takes a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and puts it on the desk in front of me. I pick it up, unfolding it and reading over my own words, my resignation.

  “Meet me at The Mayfair Club tonight.” He says, a pleading tone in his voice. “Don’t make any decisions until then.”

  This is stupid. I shouldn’t be giving him any more chances to burrow under my skin. I think I’m strong enough to fight him, but I’m clearly not. There’s a reason I fucked him in the first place. I didn’t make that decision lightly. If I’m honest, I’m running because I don’t trust myself around him. Landon is a force to be reckoned with, and his brand of attack is one my hormones don’t seem to be able to fight. I have never had a weakness in my life, but it seems he’s it. I should hand him back my resignation and tell him to fuck off. Should being the key word.

  “What time?” I hear myself saying.

  I’m a little drunk when I descend the stairs at The Mayfair bar. I’ve been at Rouge with Quinn for the last two hours, listening to her guess every conceivable reason as to why he’s asked me here. According to her he’s either firing me, or he wants me to become his fuck doll.

  I glance around the bar, but I can’t see Landon, he must not be here yet. I order a martini and a bag of Mexy. The barmaid gets to work making the drink before placing it and the tiny bag of white powder in front of me. I’m too drunk to speak to Landon right now. God knows I need every ounce of sensible thinking when I’m around that man.

  I down the drink and then head to the bathroom. As soon as I snort the little line of white powder, the Mexy hits me, chasing away the drunken fog that’s surrounding me and replacing it with a heightened awareness of everything around me. I drag a hand through my hair and swipe a new layer of lipstick over my lips before I leave the bathroom.

  I spot Landon straight away sitting on a barstool; his elbow propped on the bar and a sexy smile on his lips as a brunette in a tight dress laughs at something he said. He’s my boss; I should be indifferent to everything he does, and yet I instantly wonder whether he would fuck her. I walk towards him, swinging my hips with every stride.

  His gaze flicks over the woman’s shoulder, tracking my progress towards him. I step up to him, angling my body between him and the woman and placing a hand on his chest. “You wanted to talk.” I say, cocking my eyebrow.

  A smirk kicks up the corner of his lips. “It was nice meeting you.” He says to the brunette. I can imagine the look of disappointment on her face, after all, who doesn’t want to fuck Landon Banks?

  He stands up and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me tightly into his side with a possessive jerk. He lowers his face to mine as he leads me away from the bar and my lungs freeze as his breath touches my cheek, his lips so painfully close.

  “You’re high.” He comments dryly.

  I focus ahead of me, refusing to look at him. “Last time I checked, you don’t get a say in what I do in my spare time.” I glance at him, cocking an eyebrow.

  He ignores me, and we stop at a door set back into a dark wall. I’ve never even noticed it before. It opens into a short hallway with another door at the end. He swipes a card over the metal box next to the door frame and a low buzz sounds before the door clicks open.

  “Is this where you tell me you own this place?” I grumble.

  He shakes his head. “No, I simply have an exclusive membership.” I step into the room beyond the door. It’s a smaller version of the main bar, but more intimate. The tables are well spaced with sheer curtains pulled across the little corner booths.

  “An exclusive membership in an already exclusive club?” I ask. I mean, really? He simply shrugs one shoulder as he takes a seat at the booth nestled into the corner. No one else is in here except for the bartender, and the lack of people makes me nervous.

  I sit across from him, leaning back against the seat and keeping my hands in my lap. He watches me like a predator looking for weakness. I wait for him to speak first because he’s the one who brought me here. The longer the silence stretches on, the more I fidget. God, why does he make me so nervous?

  He unbuttons his jacket and slips his hand inside, pulling a slim envelope from the inside pocket and placing it on the table, sliding it in front of me and retracting his hand.

  “What is this?” I ask, eyeing it suspiciously.

  He clasps his hands together on the table in front of him. “Open it.” His expression is hard as he stares at me, waiting.

  I pick up the envelope and pull back the unsealed flap, sliding the single piece of paper out. My eyes skim over the first few lines and pop wide.

  “A contract?” I ask, looking at him in disbelief. He nods. “Why? Is this some kind of joke?” I snap, my temper rising.

  “No, no joke.” He shakes his head and taps his index finger against his bottom lip. “I can’t be professional with you, Georgia.” He says, and I freeze.

  “Oh?” I prompt.

  “I know what it is to fuck you.” He says roughly, the sound of
his voice making my skin flush in goose bumps. “I know what you taste like, how you sound when you come.” Oh god, I can’t breathe. I part my lips on a staggered breath and his eyes drop to my mouth. “And you want me, or you wouldn’t feel the need to hand in your notice.” I don’t deny it. I can’t. “So that leaves us at an impasse, a seemingly impossible situation.”

  “So why not just let me leave?” I ask.

  He leans in, his eyes locking with mine and darkening. “One taste wasn’t nearly enough, kitten.”

  I squeeze my thighs together, unable to tear my gaze from his. “I won’t be your dirty office fuck.” I manage to say through my tightening throat.

  He points to the paper in my hand. “This is a contract that outlines very specific details, boundaries as it were. The office is off limits.”

  I skim over the writing quickly.

  Agreement between Landon Banks (herein referred to as “The Primary”) and Georgia Roberts (herein referred to as “The Secondary”).

  1. The Secondary shall adhere to her current terms of employment and treat the Primary with the respect that should be afforded to her employer.

  2. The Primary and Secondary will meet at agreed times at “Masque”, and only within this establishment will sexual activity be permitted.

  3. The Primary and secondary may not conduct in any sexual activity outside of “Masque”.

  4. Neither party may speak of their time within “Masque”.

  5. Neither party will discuss the terms of this contract.

  6. Breach of this contract will result in immediate termination of the contract.

  7. Should The Primary breach the terms of the contract, then he will leave Redford and Banks for the foreseeable future.

  8. This agreement in no way affects the employment or career of The Secondary.