Survival of the Fiercest

by Chloe Blaque

  “Good. I’ll come get you in an hour.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  An hour and fifteen minutes later, I step into the lobby and spot Evan chatting with the concierge. He does a double take as I come toward him, making the forty minutes I spent straightening my hair worthwhile. It’s sleek, shiny, and well past my shoulders, brushing seductively against the sleeveless black leather dress I’m wearing. Unsure of where we are going, I went for simple but deadly.

  Evan gives a distracted nod to the concierge when he sees me. I curve my deep red lips into a small smile.

  “Wow. Stunning as usual,” he says. He pulls me in and kisses my cheek, lingering just a bit. I close my eyes and inhale his scent.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He’s elegant in an eggplant cashmere V-neck sweater that brings out his eyes, and waxed dark denim jeans.

  “Shall we?” he asks with a head jerk. His hand goes to the small of my back as he leads us toward the exit.

  At dinner, Evan is attentive and engaging. It seems I’ve been forgiven, and I stay clear of any mention of Fierce or Viper or Josie. We clink cocktail glasses and smile. I’m thankful that we are friends again, or should I say more than friends? I could say friends with benefits, but I can sense a shift between us. There is something more, and although I know better, I’ve caught myself fantasizing about a future together. Nothing crazy, just little snippets of us walking hand ’n hand through Soho or watching movies on my couch. And the comparisons I make to Pete seem never ending.

  These thoughts are dangerous. Once my contract is signed, there is no more reason for me to stay in San Francisco. I could be gone as early as tomorrow night. Our time is running out, and it makes my heart ache a little.

  As we eat—we got a porterhouse for two—Evan wants to know everything, every minor detail of how Fierce works. My page views, my staff budget, annual revenue, ad sales, statistics, and where I think the profit went. It’s Evan the lawyer in action, and it’s hot. Really hot.

  “I’m not that sold on the idea of celebrity gossip, but I don’t have a choice,” I confess.

  “What’s so great about Viper that you would compromise your vision?”

  Put like that, I have to pause. “Stability, I guess.”

  “In this market? No one is stable, hence your situation. Stability comes from being in control of your own future. You could get private funding or a business loan and run the site from your home. You don’t need all that overhead.”

  He’s right, I think, taking a sip of my wine. Then I shake my head. “A parent company is like a business manager. I know how to create clickable content, not sell ad space and deal with payroll.”

  “Hire an accountant and a PR person.”

  “That sounds expensive.”

  “Maybe I could help.”

  “You want to pay for my accountant and PR person?” I tease.

  “Seriously. I could introduce you to some investors.”

  I spear a piece of steak and contemplate his offer. As much as I appreciate his interest, I’m embarrassed to admit that I feel unstable in my career for the first time in, well…ever. My career always fell into place. My love life was the thing that I never got right.

  “No, this will work out. Let’s change the subject,” I say.

  When I ask about the club, Evan talks about some new deals he is working on. He tells me about his friend Andrew, the head of an investment firm in New York, who is helping him scout locations for another gallery there.

  “I could be in New York a few times a month,” he says softly.

  “Yeah? Starting when?”

  “Soon, I hope. But just getting an appointment to see these places is a bitch. The real estate market there is so fucked.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Evan sips his wine, and his gaze falls over my lips. “So when are you going back to New York?”

  “It depends on work, but probably in a couple of days.”

  His brow wrinkles. “That soon?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. We blink at each other before hunching back over our plates.

  “If I came to New York, would you let me take you out to dinner?” Evan asks.

  “I think I’d be a little mad if I found out you were in town and didn’t at least have coffee with me.”

  “Then expect a call. I can’t have you mad at me again. It’s bad for my reputation.” His dimple pops when I slant him a look, and my mind shifts to the unspoken thoughts that hang between us. Will we keep in touch? How often? Should we just say good-bye now?

  “What are you thinking?” he asks with a solemn look on his face.

  “I’m thinking I might want dessert.” I half smile.

  “I definitely want dessert,” he says softly. By the way he is looking at me, I’m pretty sure his idea of dessert includes a bed. So does mine, but the crack in my heart would do better with chocolate cake. I grab my clutch and rise from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  After emerging from the ladies’ stall, I retouch my lipstick in the mirror, then smooth out my dress. Staring at my reflection, I tell myself that things happen for a reason, but I find no comfort in these words. My time with Evan has a limit. The sooner I accept that, the less it will hurt when I leave. My life is in New York. Finding a guy like Evan back east won’t be easy—all the more reason to indulge now. Turning, I give myself one last look. I’m ready for dessert.

  When I get to the table, Evan stands and pulls out my chair. He buries his nose in my neck as I slide forward.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he says.

  The table is decorated with an assortment of sweets that Evan has ordered for us, and I taste them all—a red velvet cake, pecan pie with black pepper ice cream, banana pudding with vanilla wafers, and a chocolate cheesecake that Evan devours. I polish off the cake and pie, washing it down with a glass of Lambrusco. When we finish. Evan asks for the check and leans back in his chair.

  “What’d you think?”

  “It was absolutely delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His gaze makes my insides go liquid.

  The minute we get in the car, Evan’s lips crash onto mine. “You’re too sexy,” he groans. His words make me smile, as his feelings seem to mirror my own. His hands are everywhere: my hair, cupping my face, sliding down my side to my ass. Pushing forward, I lean closer, but the control panel interferes. We are both breathing harder when I break the kiss.

  “We need a bed,” I breathe.

  “Put your seat belt on.” He kisses me again and then tears out of the parking lot.

  * * * *

  We burst through the door of his apartment, and I am in his arms in one fluid motion. Nothing else matters as we rip at each other’s clothing. Evan strips off my leather sheath and stops to appreciate me in my bra, heels, and silk side-slit shorts that flutter when I walk. Nothing makes me feel sexier than these little shorts—except Evan’s gaze on me.

  “You blow my mind,” Evan says, his breathing heavy. “I’m like a teenager about to come in my pants.”

  Discarding my bra, I walk to the bed in my heels and lounge on his white duvet. “I’d rather you came inside me.”

  His clothes are off in two seconds, and his muscles ripple when he moves toward the bed.

  “Spread your legs,” he says in that throaty tone that makes my insides melt. I smile and slowly wet my lips.

  Evan stares at me for a long moment, his smoldering gaze traveling up my thighs, over my breasts, my mouth, and then locking on my eyes. I hold his stare, spread my legs, and slide my hand beneath the black silk of my shorts. I rub my pussy in invitation.

  “Keep touching yourself,” he says, advancing on me, his cock springing to attention. My strokes increase. “You look like an angel,” he breathes. “I’m going to buy you more of these outfits—red, pink, white.” His voice gets deeper. “And I’m going to fuck you in all of them.”

  I quiver at his declaration. I’m drenched
, and feeling my own arousal makes me even hotter. “I think I want you.” My voice is coy as I hold up my glistening fingers under his rapt attention. His lips part, and his muscles clench in anticipation. He reaches for me, but I swing my leg up and place my shoe on his chest, keeping him from advancing. He grabs my shoe and slips it off, then removes the other. I prop onto my elbows and let my red-tipped toes slide down his torso. He grows even harder under my scrutiny.

  “Look at what you do to me,” he says, standing very straight, his muscled thighs flexing and his erection poised and ready. I meet his heavy-lidded gaze before falling back down to the steel pillar jutting toward me. He’s perfectly formed, I think—thick, proud, subtly curved. I swallow hard as my mouth starts to water.

  Rising onto all fours, I move toward him, stopping just inches from his powerful shaft. Evan is spellbound, watching me, quaking with anticipation as I raise my chin and give the velvety head a tiny lick. His neck strains as the object of my attention jumps and pulses just inches from my face. My woman’s power rises inside me again. I can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so sexual…so fierce.

  Looking into Evan’s eyes, I lick my lips, then rub them over the head before taking his cock fully into my mouth, drawing him farther with a deep, strong suck. My cheeks hollow around his thick, smooth length, and the helpless moan that bursts from his lips fuels me. His hips jerk forward, and his eyes roll back into his head. Wrapping my hand around the base, I swirl my tongue around the head, then begin a slow up-and-down motion.

  He’s panting, cupping my head with a quivering hand while I continue in a steady, savoring rhythm. My hardened nipples strain painfully against my bra. Widening my thighs for leverage, I grasp his hips and press his cock deep into my throat. My nose nuzzles the soft thatch at the base.

  “Oh God, baby,” he pleads. He’s quaking, groaning deep in his throat as I work him over with my mouth, changing speeds and positions, taking him deeper. I slip my hand under and cup him, hefting his delicate sac with a light squeeze. A raspy moan drags from his lips, and his fingers latch onto my hair.

  Evan’s body is taught, his breathing is erratic, and his dick is solid and pulsing against my tongue. His climax is close, and the thought of tasting his orgasm unlocks my carnal beast. Pulling him to the back of my throat, I slide my hand down and slip my hand under his balls. I give a light squeeze, and his whole body stiffens. His hand in my hair clenches, his hips buck, and he lets out a ragged shout as he climaxes. I swallow his semen as hot spurts lash the walls of my throat.

  Releasing him, I slide onto my heels and watch him struggle to catch his breath. He looks at me, dumbfounded. “Your mouth is like heaven.” His gaze dips into my cleavage. “Just like the rest of you.” His voice has dropped to a whisper.

  I slide backward and stand on my knees, so he can get a better view, flipping my hair around for maximum pinup-girl effect. My body is aching for release, but I’ve just finished him off. I resign to wait, but I like his gaze on me. I trail my fingertips over the cups of my bra and flip them under my breasts, exposing and caressing my tight nipples. His lips part.

  Evan reaches for my breasts, but I slap his hand away. His brow rises in question. I smirk.

  “You’re feeling very in control right now, aren’t you?” he asks low, bending toward the bed.

  Coquettish, I nod.

  In a flash, I’m in his arms and on my back, held in a safe cradle underneath him on the bed. Evan ravages my mouth, taking my breath away. My heart is hammering when he breaks our kiss and pins me with his gaze. His warm lips latch on to my breast, and my body quivers at his relentless sucking. I need to orgasm.

  Trapping me with his upper body, he brushes aside my panties and slides through the wetness between my legs. We both groan when he inserts two fingers.

  “Please…” I beg.

  “Please what?” His voice is full of need.

  “Please, fuck me,” I plead, my lids heavy, my body ready to burst.

  “Fuck you how?”

  “Any way you want.” I say, lost in sexual need.

  “What if I want to fuck you hard?”

  I moan as he inserts another finger, and I wriggle against his hand to ease my swollen clit. He won’t let me, holding me steady with his palm, his blue eyes boring into mine. All I can do is nod.

  He flips me onto my stomach and props me onto my knees. I steady myself on my elbows, and my breasts swing forward, grazing the duvet. I peek at him over my shoulder. He is on his knees behind me. His gaze is wild and focused, and his cock is at the ready, like a sword. Pulling aside the scrap of fabric covering my bottom, he slaps a heavy palm on my cheek and squeezes, closing his eyes. Then he gives me another thwack—the heat on my bottom feels delicious.

  Reaching between my legs from behind, he finds my clit and caresses me. I moan and push back onto his fingers.

  “Say something in French to me…” he says softly, coaxing my hips to move.

  “J’ai besoin que tu me baises.”

  He groans. “What’d you say?”

  “I need you to fuck me,” I say over my shoulder. I emphasize it by circling my hips on his fingers.

  He bites down on his lip. “I’ll fuck you any way you want—all the ways you want.”

  The earnestness in his voice makes me pause.

  “Reach into that drawer and get me a condom,” he commands.

  I tremble and stretch to the night table, feeling my breasts swing. He replaces his fingers with the crown of his erection, sliding it up and down my slick folds. Reaching in the drawer, I pull out a magnum and place the gold foil on my lower back. On impulse, I push onto him a bit, anchoring the head of him into my pussy. Now who’s in charge?

  Evan grips my hips and clenches his jaw, the columns of his throat pop as he battles for control. He buckles and pulls back, gathering his breath and shooting me a challenging look. “Woman…you are asking for it…” he says, rolling on the condom. With lightning speed, he buries himself inside me, and I scream from surprise, then from pure pleasure. All my thoughts fall away as he gives it to me just as he’d promised—fast and hard.

  Hooking himself around me, he finds my breasts and hefts them into his warm palms as he plunges into me again and again. My body is about to burst, and my hair whips his face as I toss my head to cry out.

  “Evan. Mmmmm…”

  “I have you, baby,” he rasps, grinding his hips against me, pinching and tweaking my nipples.

  “Don’t stop…” I whimper.

  “Never.” He pants, kissing my spine and sliding one hand between my legs. I’m grasping at his pillows, circling my hips onto him as he thrusts, matching his rhythm until I come, clutching the duvet and letting go with a long, heavy cry. Evan sinks forward to the hilt, then comes, pumping uncontrollably before going limp.

  Our ragged breath fills the room. Evan withdraws, throws away the condom, and scoops me up to lay lengthwise with him on the bed. I’m decimated, but Evan is still on fire, kissing me deep and long. He’s growing rigid again, and I’m absently shifting with him, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs to take his hips.

  Rolling on another condom, he enters me, looking deep into my eyes. A moan rips from his chest as he moves like a wave on top of me, stroking inside of me, setting a rhythm that has me building again quickly.

  Evan drops his head onto my neck, his breathing rough and labored in my ear. He’s talking, telling me how good I feel, how bad he felt about our fight, and how much he wanted to hold me this morning. I run my hands down his arms and hitch my legs over his shoulders.

  He props himself on his arms and thrusts deep into my pussy without restraint, forcing my legs wider, pushing me up farther on the bed. I grab his wrists for support. He increases his speed, pounding faster. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge.

  My orgasm slams into me. The strength of it bursts through my body, expanding me, breaking me apart. My cry is hoarse and raw, unable to find breath to carry it. Afters
hocks bolt through me as Evan’s hips still pitch and grind against me. I draw in breath and hold on for dear life. His body tightens, and a short yell fills my ears as he shudders once, then twice, before collapsing on top of me.

  Sweat sheened, we catch our breath. Evan pulls me to his chest and studies my face. The longest pause stretches between us, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s as if we’ve known each other forever. He twirls my hair, letting it grab onto his fingers while I trace his tattoos. He lowers his gaze as if in thought, and I wonder if he is thinking the same thing.

  Evan discards the condom before coming back to the bed and gathering me to his chest. I think more about our conversation at dinner. Would he call me if he came to New York? I imagine us walking around my neighborhood, but I frown—he was just talking about hypothetical future plans—plans that probably wouldn’t happen until next year, when our time together would be a distant memory.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When I get to the office the next morning, the receptionist hands me some letters that would normally be sent to my apartment. I shove them in my blazer pocket. Well, it’s Evan’s blazer pocket, which makes me smile. Last night, and this morning, was amazing. With each step, my muscles twinge and ache, and I’ve had to stifle a yawn or two, but I’m looking forward to a repeat tonight. This time I’ll pack a bag first.

  The receptionist tells me everyone is waiting in the fishbowl and congratulates me on Fierce’ s acquisition. “Thank you,” I say and wonder what will happen to her job.

  Inside the conference room, a sandwich platter and an assortment of cupcakes grace the center of the oval table. And a bottle of champagne is chilling in the corner. There is a seat open right next to Lou, a contract and a pen waiting patiently for me on the tabletop.

  Mr. Khan rises from his chair when I enter, and I’m thankful that Evan’s black blazer doesn’t look too bad over my leather dress. With his waxy smile, Khan introduces his staff. He brought his assistant, an Asian twentysomething who looks like a Bond girl, his legal team, his ad sales team, the PR team, and a woman named Paula who introduces herself as my general manager. Wait a minute. I already have a general manager. Don’t I?