Betting On It

by Violet Blake

  His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “I never knew you had a mean streak.”

  “You have no idea.” I leaned across the console and kissed him. Still a little high from our extracurricular dining room activities, I placed my hand on his knee, inching my way up his thigh. His breath hitched and gave way to a moan, which I took as invitation to inflict a nice dose of payback. The man had practically made me crawl on top of him in front of other people—how could I let that slide?

  My tongue ran over his lower lip, savoring the taste, the sensation of him. I tilted my head, my tongue enjoying the feel of his teeth before I plunged deeper. Sawyer’s fingers moved to my hair, twirling a few strands until his hands were tight against my scalp. I couldn’t move. Which wasn’t a big deal—why would I want to move when I was getting the royal kissing treatment?

  But there was the whole issue of payback. And no way would I let him get the upper hand. Fully aware that we were in a parking lot behind a row of businesses, and not exactly in the privacy of our own homes, I walked the tips of my fingers the final few inches to his zipper. The woven material of his pants stretched around his crotch, which filled me with nothing but smugness.

  I never would’ve gotten away with something like this in my old haunts of Boston or DC. Too many greedy eyes.

  His hand covered mine. “We’re going to get caught.”

  “It’s dark and nobody can see us.”

  “We’re going to get arrested if they do.”

  “Then you’d better start driving, Callahan.”

  Unraveling his fingers from my hair, he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, tempting, taunting me to act. If he knew how much I wanted to take that lip into my mouth again, he’d probably already have the car in drive. Shaking his head, he backed out of the lot and drove to his house.

  Although we had pressing matters to attend to, Sawyer gave Baxter enough attention to keep the dog happy for a while. He usually brought Bax with him to work when he didn’t have outside meetings, and had dropped him off before picking me up.

  I took a seat on the barstool at the kitchen’s island while he unboxed everything. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, and I tried not to drool. Yeah, the food smelled amazing. But unbuttoned Sawyer was my favorite flavor of Sawyer.

  He glanced at me, then the food, then at the black granite countertop. Then the most diabolical glint lit up his eyes. He moved between my legs and put his hands around my waist. “Do you trust me?”

  “I trust no one.” Humor sparked my voice, even though it was the truth.

  “Then consider this our own little team building retreat.” He lifted me by the waist and hoisted me onto the table. Now I was eye level with him. He bent forward and kissed my neck—my weak spot. The sneaky bastard unzipped my dress while he kissed me, licking and teasing my skin at the same time he revealed more and more of it.

  My dress draped around my hips now, and he shifted me so he could get the skirt out from under me, then took the whole thing off.

  I took the phone from my bra. “You ready to go over those projections with your accountant?”

  He lifted the phone and tossed it onto the couch. “Who?”

  “Good answer.” I squinted at the lights overhead. I’d never really been naked in full light like this. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I fought the urge to hold my hands in front of me.

  “You’re not shy, are you?”

  My whole body went up in flames. Milton should’ve created a tenth circle of Hell, just for the things Sawyer’s voice did to my body. “Maybe.”

  “If I had it my way you’d walk around naked all the time.” He placed light kisses along my collarbone, giving me goosebumps. “Or wearing nothing but black pearls.”

  Before I could simmer even more under his attention he took off his tie, unknotted it, and held it in front of my face, giving me a moment to tell him no. Nervous, but dying to see what he had in mind, I let him tie it around my eyes like a blindfold.

  Now it was dark, leaving my remaining senses of hearing, taste, and especially touch, amplified. Heat from Sawyer’s body permeated my skin. It mixed with my blood, and my knees opened wider. The sound of his breath, the softness of it against my cheek, made me melt against him. But when his fingertips came out of nowhere and traced my collarbone to my chest, then followed the edges of my silk bra cups, I could barely handle the influx of sensation.

  I had no idea where he would touch me next. What torture he would inflict. I had zero control, and I liked it.

  “Lie back,” he said, and guided me to lie on the cool, hard counter. He brushed my hair away from my neck and shoulders, removed my bra, then moved my hands so they were at my sides. Strong hands took hold of my knees, spread them, and bared my sex to him. A thrilling shudder tore through me—I actually sensed his gaze on me there.

  At the same time I wanted to run and hide, I also couldn’t help but savor the awareness of him watching me.

  “If we didn’t have a bet to win, I’d be inside you right now.”

  “I’m in it to win it, Sally. Get to the food.”

  Chuckling, he popped open the clamshell food boxes, then arranged the desserts next to me on the counter. “Ready?”

  “For what, exactly?”

  “That’s the point. Surprise.”

  “I didn’t know there was another point besides crossing an item off the list.”

  “Let’s see if we can cure you of this single-mindedness, too.”

  “Sally…” I said, injecting as much threat into my voice as possible.

  All thoughts of menace combusted when the first dessert was placed between my breasts. Warm cake, moist and heavy, settled and crumbled on my skin. I caught the faint whiff of chocolate and caramel, and my mouth watered. Seconds later, a hot, sticky sauce drizzled over my skin, teasing my breasts and nipples.

  I drank in a breath, not only in hopes of collecting myself, but to inhale the sweetness. “That smells so good.”

  “That is our chocolate stout torte, with salty caramel porter sauce,” he said, his voice lower and hoarser than before. He inhaled, then let out his breath slowly. “You know what smells even better? You, naked, turned on.”

  I had nothing to say to that. I grinned stupidly and bit my lower lip between my teeth. The sauce on my left breast made a slow path down the side of me, toward my ribcage.

  “Don’t move.” His tongue covered the hardened tip of my nipple, sucking and licking off every molecule of the sauce.

  Moaning, I stayed still, not wanting to spill the cake everywhere. “You’re cheating.”

  He groaned. “You’re making me crazy.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Says the woman about to have an orgasm from nothing but cake.

  “I have three more.”

  “Get with the program, Callahan.”

  Although he made quicker work of the following three desserts, my senses powered into overload. The next dessert, which he placed on my solar plexus, was red velvet cake with the most delicious-smelling buttercream frosting. The third was a hot apple crumble cake that went on my belly, and the fourth was a crème Brule, which he put on my pubic bone.

  “Open your mouth,” he said, and when I did, he placed a bite of the chocolate cake inside my mouth. While I savored the perfect German chocolate cake with caramel sauce, he took his own bite. While he chewed, more of the warm, sticky sauce dripped onto my nipple, and within seconds he lapped it up. He licked the overly sensitive flesh, and poured the rest of the sauce onto my other breast. Panting and dying to move so I could have some sort of relief, I let him pin my wrists to the countertop with his hands—I’d probably upset the desserts otherwise.

  “I love that you’re a breast man,” I said.

  “Just yours,” he said, right before his mouth covered the sauce-covered nipple. This time he nipped at the skin with his teeth, and he sucked harder. Not enough to hurt, but enough that I was so close to coming.

  He pulled away,
and I felt the scrape of a spoon against the soft flesh of my upper abdomen. “Open.”

  He put another piece of dessert into my mouth—a sinfully rich red velvet cake—and smeared sticky frosting on my aching nipple. I began to detest any time he took away from worshipping them, which made me seriously consider his suggestion earlier that I should just be naked all the time. If my boobs got attention like this, I’d happily ditch the bra the moment I walked in the door.

  He licked my sternum until he got to the next dessert, which, by the way he groaned when he took it into his mouth, I knew had to be his favorite. “No sauce for this one,” he said, and I heard him licking his fingers and smacking his lips.

  “Awwww…” I pouted.

  He chuckled and put a bite into my mouth. Spicy apple pie. Hell yes. Almost worth no sauce, too, but he more than made up for it with what he did next. He more than made up for it.

  Warmed syrup trickled onto my clit, the most exquisite torment imaginable. I felt it drizzle, melt, and travel down to the opening of my sex. I clenched my teeth and let out a hiss. My hips about came off the table, and he put his hands on my pelvis.

  “Don’t move,” he murmured.

  “I’m dying.” I had to be.

  His hot breath gusted against my sex, and I knew he was right there, enjoying the show. If it were up to me, we’d chuck the food and go at it this very instant. But not Sawyer. Oh no. The man had restraint.

  “I love watching your pussy tighten,” he growled, his finger smearing the sauce all over my clit. Then he pushed it inside me. While his fingers moved in slow, languid strokes, he fed me a bite of crème Brule, and I tasted tart raspberry sauce.

  I gasped, unable to breath with any sort of normalcy at this point. My hands moved to my face and I clawed at the tie, keeping it in place, but needing something to hold onto. “Please…”

  “Please what?” he asked, continuing his torture. “I could do this all day.”

  I moaned, a shiver splitting through me. “I want your mouth on me. All over me, inside me, wherever you can think to put it. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His tongue started at my clit, lightly teasing and sucking at the engorged flesh. Strong arms wrapped around my thighs to hold me down, close to him.

  I’d never surrendered myself so fully to anybody. He worked his way from my clit to my sex, doing exactly what I’d told him, bless the man. His fingers moved inside me, thrusting in a rhythm that made orgasm imminent.

  “Damn it, Callahan.” My lips went numb, and I was sure I was seeing stars.

  His fingers laced with mine, like an invisible lifeline. He didn’t let up on me, though, and next thing I knew I was coming. The breathy, aroused moan that escaped my lips wasn’t mine. It couldn’t be. I’d never thought it possible to find that kind of release. Not from an orgasm.

  The chair scooted, then crashed to the floor. The sound of his zipper came next, followed by the soft thud of his belt and pants on the tile.

  “Do you have any objections to me fucking you right now?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  He pushed away the remaining dessert, pulled my knees apart, and his cock filled me in one hard, fast movement. A small hiss of breath, then he thrust into me again and again.

  I. Could not. Get. Enough.

  The man was a superstar. All the orgasms I’d had in my life couldn’t add up to beat this haze of intoxication.

  “Wow,” I said on a sigh, feeling as if I were being carried away.

  He let out a satisfied chuckle and dragged me upright, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

  My fingers played with the muscles on his back, and my other hand moved to his hard, muscular ass. I dragged my teeth over my lip, adoring the way his muscles tensed. It took maybe thirty seconds for me to come again.

  “Are you on birth control?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, realizing he’d forgotten to put on a condom.

  “Can I come inside you?”

  I could only nod, on the brink of another orgasm.

  His hand covered my breast and squeezed. I clinched my legs around his waist. This time we came together, the growls he made not sounding at all like the put-together guy I’d seen at his office only an hour ago.

  He practically collapsed on me, his face on my chest as he caught his breath. I moved my hands up to his neck, twisting his hair in my fingers with one, the other tracing the muscles on his back. He placed kisses along my collarbone and withdrew from me.

  I’d never had sex without a condom. And who knew what took over at that moment? Maybe I felt safe with the blindfold.

  I reached down and put my fingers into the pot of caramel, then sucked them clean. A little bit of the sauce remained so I covered my fingertips with it and he licked them until none remained.

  “And you were complaining about me possibly killing you. I’m already getting hard again.”

  I tore off the blindfold and met his gaze. Conflict raged inside me. Rules. We had rules. While my body screamed and begged for me to do it with him again, I didn’t think anything else on the list would’ve worked. Not tonight.

  And seeming to understand my unspoken reminder of the rules, he smiled, helped me down, and we took a shower together. A non-sexing kind of shower. Although I can’t say we didn’t engage in all sorts of foreplay activities.

  Yep. The next thirty days would probably be the longest in my life.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I dragged my sorry, oversexed carcass into the office, and found a huge bouquet of pale pink roses on my desk. In a Waterford vase, no less. What the…?

  Eva didn’t cover her smirk in the least, but she turned and went back to her phone call.

  Whatever.

  I plucked the card out of the little plastic fork.

  Thinking of all your pink parts.

  ~S

  Sweet. Pervy, but sweet.

  I brushed aside the little devil on my shoulder reminding me that this was a boyfriend thing to do. The sex had been pretty amazing. If I’d had the funds, I might’ve sent him something to show my appreciation, too. A Lamborghini would’ve done nicely.

  An IM from Victoria popped up on my computer.

  Victoria: See me.

  I entered her office and she gestured for me to take a seat, then closed the door. She took the seat across from me and folded her hands across her jade skirt.

  “We have an incredible opportunity that I’d like you to be a part of, Blair. You’ve been an integral part of our team for two months, and if everything goes well with this project, well, it’ll be great news for you.” She grinned as if she’d just handed me the map to get to Oz.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Being a young start-up company, we take a risk every time we make contact with somebody. Whether it’s a new account, a future account, or a new employee,” she said, her gaze pointed.

  Shit. I cleared my throat. “I see.”

  “Watson & Associates is the rookie of the Front Range marketing scene. Every dollar we spend—or make—counts. It’s been difficult for us to find just the right match for your position, actually.”

  Serious as ever, she continued. “Every new client is a coup, and we have a mega coup on our hands. Ever heard of Arthur Biomedical?”

  Mega coup? Sweet. I nodded, scanning my memory for something useful before she thought I was just plain stupid. “They make the bionic bones, don’t they?”

  “Right. They’re a Colorado company and just got FDA approval on a new component that’s going to revolutionize this technology. They want to announce their new product line in a big way. Which is where you come in.”

  I did a mental fist bump with the universe.

  She handed me a folder. “There’s a lot of work to be done, but I want you to be my right hand in this project. We’ll have to put in a ton of hours for the next several weeks, but once we nail this campaign and get that first bonus check
, it’ll be worth it.”

  Bonus check? Twist my arm.

  “Thank you so much,” I said, opening the folder.

  “I want you to act as if you’re the one heading the campaign. Everything you do will go through me, of course, but I’ll mentor you. Sound good?”

  Good? Try fucking amazing.

  “I really appreciate this opportunity,” I said.

  “You’re doing such a great job,” she said. “Why don’t you go through the files, come up with a rough draft, and we’ll meet up again Friday?”

  Walking on clouds, I made my way to my desk. Eva peeked at my folder with interest, not bothering to conceal her frown.

  “What?” I whispered.

  She turned away. “Nothing.”

  “Not nothing. You’re looking at me like the mean girls did in high school when they saw toilet paper on my shoe and didn’t want to tell me. Not that you’re mean like that. It’s just that I can tell you’re hiding something.”

  She sighed. “Let’s take a quick walk to the supply room. I need help getting paper.”

  I followed her to the supply room, which was at the farthest end of the hallway and away from offices or other people. We closed the heavy door and walked toward the paper.

  “Okay, listen,” she said. “I really don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, but I like you and I want you to know what you’re getting into so you don’t have expectations of grandeur or anything like that.”

  Dread snaked its way around my heart.

  “This is Victoria’s MO. She’s awesome, she’s all about girl power, but when she gets overloaded she tends to use the probie to do her grunt work.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” I asked.

  “The caveat is that she’s salaried and gets mammoth bonuses, and will reap far more benefits than you. Didn’t you notice on the contract that you can’t be paid overtime? You’re technically supposed to go home after forty hours no matter what, according to the temp agency guidelines,” she said. “And no bonuses.”

  Cue the semi that comes out of nowhere and crushes my body to smithereens. “Oh.”