He was more than satisfied with his level of renown in the ink community. He'd be able to work the conventions and reality shows for a while for side cash and promotional value.
Greed corrupts.
He really didn't need any more than he already had. Especially where the brainless bimbos were concerned. The last thing he wanted was to upgrade to a soulless trophy wife itching to write a tell-all the minute things went south. Liam's tastes were simpler than that. He'd met and bedded a lot of women in his 28 years, but he'd yet to meet a woman who challenged him intellectually, and fed the animal lust that had won him a serious reputation as a lady killer.
He wasn't. A lady killer, that is. He had a healthy, sexual appetite, but it was the sort that was hungry for all that a woman had to offer, body and soul. He wasn't interested in a woman who looked great in bed, but couldn't handle her own at a poker table, in a business meeting, or even in a friendly game of paintball.
And as simple and reasonable as it might sound to find a beauty with brains and a personality, he'd been striking out left and right for awhile now. The mentors of today's generation had taught them all to be material girls with an emphasis on looking good no matter the amount of plastic it took to stuff those double-Ds. Yeah, he'd pass on the plastic Barbie’s. If he didn't bed another one for as long as he lived it would be far too soon.
Leaning back with his hands cradling his head, he let his eyes slip closed, claiming a quick Zen moment before he made the rest of the day's business calls. With Tat Con coming up in six weeks, he needed to sign a new face he could trust. It wasn't a lot of time, and he had to be sure the new kid was a complete professional if he took the job.
No hot heads. No undisciplined players. Even if Liam himself had resembled the former for most of his young life. He'd learned the perils of letting your fists think for you, firsthand, and he didn't have time to babysit anyone else right now. Not with the reality show coming up. The ink hadn't touched the final contract, yet, but he was pretty sure the execs would meet his demands without a fuss.
A ding popping up on his browser shook him out of his snatch of peace, and he lowered his hands to click the touchpad with a sigh. He had to get out of here tonight. A distraction was in order. A good one.
The Two of Hearts site logo on his screen bounced twice before zooming out and flashing an avatar that made him lean forward and squint his eyes. A whistle escaping his lips, he clicked it and sat back. He might just get that distraction, after all.
This one was a beauty.
And not in the way of the synthetic hive mind that took over most women these days. She was fucking striking. Wide, dark eyes wreathed in lashes. Lush lips that looked like they were flushed permanently red. And her body. Holy shit. Hips for days, a cinched waist, and a mesmerizing rack he couldn't take his eyes off of.
Even better? Her profile. She actually read books for pleasure, not just for school. And she was also in school, though, her listing didn't say for what. Like him, she was discreet. Just a hair to the left of anonymous. Like his, her profile gave one name only: Jackie.
He liked the way that rolled off the tongue.
Yeah, he was answering this IM.
Clicking the box, Liam grinned at the simple greeting, "What's up?"
Straight and to the point. He didn't know why, but he could already tell they were going to click. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and sucking it back, he passed on the obvious crass answer his little brain might have given if he were still 14 years old, and under its sway.
Grinning, he threw a line at her. For fun.
"Other than my heart rate, right now? How's someone with your beauty and brains on a dating site?"
Sitting back, he waited for her response, looking forward to seeing what kind of conversation this banger had. If she was at least not a giggler who agreed with everything he said, it was on for tonight - if she would have him, of course.
Shit, the more he looked at her picture, it was on tonight, even if she was a giggler.
"I joined for the articles, of course. You?"
"Same, if you mean articles of clothing when I meet my match. Fewer, the better, of course."
"Confident are we?"
"Would desperate be a better approach?"
"Depends on the girl."
"What kind of girl are you?"
"Not a desperate one."
They went on like that for awhile, and the more he messaged with this goddess, the more he wanted to see her that night for something with a deeper significance than a mere distraction. She had substance, wit, and a subdued sort of fire that he couldn't help but grin at. She'd probably whip his ass at chess if he challenged her.
Yeah, that was a turn on.
And when she agreed to meet him for a drink, he knew he couldn't just bring her anywhere. He was calling in a favor for reservations at Dark Tower Suites' VIP only lounge. Best drinks in the city. Located in the one 5-Star hotel his father didn't own.
~
Liam went with an upscale-casual approach, his button down shirt open to the a-shirt beneath, cuffs rolled up to expose the ink sleeves covering his forearms in dragon motifs.
His trousers were loose-fitted, enough to reveal his physique without him stepping too far over the metrosexual line. He was serious about his appearance, but not obsessed to the point of brow-waxing and manscaping.
And he had a brand to protect.
If he was recognized by someone inclined to take snapshots, he needed to maintain that cool, laid back persona that had launched his shops on the backs of the cleverly designed ad-campaigns he'd ensured went viral.
Slinking out of his car, he let the door close with a click.
"How long?"
"Keep it warm for awhile. If I'm not out in an hour, park it for the night."
Tucking a Benjamin and keys into the valet's palm, he gave him a nod and made his way to the service elevators. He'd tatted so many socialites here before the shops took off, he still claimed a certain amount of access that let him wander whichever way he took a notion to.
Perks of the privileged life.
One of the few things he actually appreciated about his position, aside from the independence it afforded him (the latter at the very center of why he'd gone into business for himself to begin with).
Early as usual, he strolled into the velvet-walled lounge an hour before he asked Jackie to arrive, keen to sip on a baby drink to warm himself up. He shouldn't be nervous, rarely was with these sorts of things, but he was undeniably uneasy about this meeting. Maybe because he knew what he was getting (if everything checked out, and he wasn't being catfished).
Like a lot of men, he'd been intimidated by the smart ones early on, opting instead for what was easiest. Until the flavor of "what was easiest" revealed it had next to no depth, and a woefully synthetic aftertaste he'd grown to loathe.
Still the predictability of it all had been a crutch, and he was seeing how heavily he'd leaned on it now, when he didn't have time to form a thought, let alone strategize how to lure a female who actually possessed an identity that wasn't fashioned to mimic the higher-paid bimbos of the day.
Returning the wink of a gorgeous blonde in a glittering, black evening gown slinking by like a wild cat, a burst of the old confidence rose back to the surface, and Liam was soon back on track, sure he'd be just fine when Jackie sauntered in. Ordering a warm Sake at the bar, he guzzled it, waiting until the heat of it flushed his cheeks, then he ordered one more, which he nursed for the remaining forty-five minutes he had ahead of him.
In that time, he contented himself with the adult versions of "Where's Waldo" that filled the tablet screens connected to the half-moon booths, played a few dollar slots for the sheer fuck of it, and finally settled into an internal game of "guess-the-call-girl," in which he rewarded himself with several servings from the saucer of Godiva chocolates in front of him every time a friendly conversation between strangers resulted in the passing of a credit card through a four-
square swipe attached to said lady vamp's cell phone, then evolved into a quick trip upstairs to the palatial rooms of Dark Tower West.
Jackie herself didn't make an appearance until well after 10, twenty minutes later than they'd agreed. But he didn't allow his frustration with that to ruin their night. With an approving glint in his eye, he made his way over to her before she spotted him, like a wild cat identifying the one he would devour before she had a chance to get away.
Her avatar didn't hold a candle to real thing.
She was a fucking ten on the scale of real women who don't need to overcompensate to be noticed. Eyes darkening, his gaze swept over her with keen approval. She'd chosen a backless, black cocktail dress, accented with emerald drop earrings, hair swept back from her face in a classy, side bun that showed just enough ear to make him fixate on nibbling one of those tawny lobes by night's end.
This girl was well above the mark, but he had enough alcohol in him to keep from falling into any thoughts that he couldn't close the deal.
He would.
Something about the way she made his stomach flip told him she was his. And he'd learned early to believe his instincts. They hadn't steered him wrong, yet. They certainly wouldn't start now.
"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"
Tugging his collar, he leaned on the bar beside her with the confident smirk he wore like armor around the girls that made him nervous like this. His heart literally skipped a beat when her eyes turned to size him, dark and heavy, smoldering as they locked onto him. For a beat, he wasn't sure if he'd erred with the cheesy pick up line; he hadn't been seriously trying to use it.
It was an icebreaker.
Relief swept over him when a grin ticked her mouth.
"Need some time to flip through your pocket guide to 'Closing the Deal' for another one of those?"
He nipped his lip and pulled, her wit going straight to the core one look at her had already begun to awaken.
"No, I'm good. Thinking I'll just play it straight from here, or rely on my classically good looks."
He winked at her, and she leaned into the bar with a posture that told him she was intrigued now, interested enough to let him buy her a drink. Score. His eyes swept over her more brazenly than he was sure they should, and when her cheeks flushed just at the surface, he relaxed knowing it flattered her more than put her off.
Shit, why was he this nervous around her? Next his palms would start sweating like a 14 year old approaching the prettiest girl in school.
Looking him over, Jackie grinned.
"It is a classic sort of handsome. I'll give you that."
Averting her eyes, she panned the lounge, sliding back a bit in a stool seat that barely accommodated the marvellous round of her backside. This girl was a certified banger.
Ass. For. Days.
The kind you took it slow with, but Liam knew himself. He didn't do slow. He'd be all over her if he saw even the slightest hint of a green light in those inky, lotus eyes of hers. Leaning deeper over the counter, he ticked his head at the bartender who lowered his rag with a stone face, making his way over.
"Help you?"
The kid looked young, almost prepubescent, and it was clear by the thinly-veiled glare in his eyes that he wasn't impressed with the clientele he served.
He was probably someone with a hard background who'd taken the gig strictly to fund ambitions lofty enough to buy him a better lease on life. Liam knew that look and the torment that fuelled it. He was all too familiar with life on the 'wrong side of the tracks,' and he had the scars to prove it, inside and out.
Turning to catch Jackie looking him over, to his flattered surprise, he flashed her a grin that told her he'd caught her checking him out, and when her cheeks flushed once more, he felt a tightening in his pants from the strain of his interest.
"Red or white?"
"Hmm? Oh. Red."
His kind of girl.
"We'll take a bottle of Port. Top shelf."
"Sure thing."
~
Three glasses in, the raven-haired beauty warmed enough to laugh a little more openly at his intentionally, bad jokes, and Liam was well on his way to closing the deal when his fingers grazed hers, flirting a light brush over the cuticles of her lacquered black nail beds.
Everything about her dazzled him. Her beauty. Her style. Her wit. And she was fiery, too. More than he'd imagined after their IM on Two of Hearts. It was subtle, though. She was clearly centered in her strength, but she didn't feel a need to flaunt it. Which made her fire realer than that of the loud-mouthed, domineering types.
Another plus.
He liked a woman who didn't have a problem telling you what she wanted, but he wasn't a beta or a lap dog for a woman who at her heart just wanted to play house dominatrix-style - to compensate for a hidden inferiority-complex.
Coming off a laugh, Jackie drew back the throaty outburst that plumed like smoke between them, taking notice of how his eyes centered on the lush swell of her lips. Her gloss had worn off, and the natural flushed tint of them was calling out to him to be sucked, little did she know.
"You tat a lot of celebrities?"
"Enough. Depends on the season, really. Lately it's been more socialites than anything."
Pausing to draw a sip of port, Jackie lowered the wide-mouthed, wine flute and drew her fingers along its stem.
"Do they usually know what they want?"
Liam's brows rose.
"Socialites? Always. They're born with a list of demands," he grinned.
"What about the types who don't? Do you just sort of intuit the best ink for them?"
Drawing a bit of port himself, he lowered the glass, his eyes trained on her all the while.
"Why? You in the market for some ink?"
Shrugging, she averted her eyes shyly. And it was so damn sexy, his pants strained with his reaction for the umpteenth time that night. Did she know what she was doing to him? Probably. As smart as this cat was, she had to know exactly what sort of effect she had on a man by now.
"What would you suggest for me if I was curious but not sure?"
Yeah. She was playing coy now, fast abandoning the shy veneer.
Leaning in, Liam played fully into it.
"Where would you want it placed?"
"You tell me."
Fire.
He was playing with fire, and fuck if he cared. He liked fire. Was a fire sign, after all, and exciting women got his engine running like few things, outside of skin art and a good, bar fight after a hard day did.
"You look like the sort of woman who'd want something bold, but discreetly placed. Maybe something that lined your inner thigh, or the small of your back. Something you'd share with a privileged few who were lucky enough to get you naked."
Her eyes darkened, and he wondered for a millisecond if he'd gone too far.
"That sounds like me. But I wouldn't know what to get."
Liam leaned back, taking her in.
"A women like you? You'd want something of an inside joke between you and your intimates. An elegant message you could laugh over, like a nickname only shared between lovers."
She drew up her wine flute again.
"More?"
Coming off of her sip, she set it down and met his eyes boldly.
"If we can drink it somewhere with a view."
A grin stretched up Liam's cheek.
"Oh, we can certainly do that."
Jackie
He crashed her against the velvet, aqua padding paneling the elevator, the rippling brawn of him hot against her body.
Jackie nearly lost her breath matching his intensity, her skin fevering beneath her cocktail dress in reaction to him.
The chemistry between them was ridiculous.
She felt like an animal. Wanted to devour him, head to toe. Lick him. Bite him. Drink him. He was thrumming with sexy, his groans vibrating through her and making an instrument of her nerve endings with each note that gorgeous throat emitted.
She'd known by the second glass of wine that she was sealing the deal, and she didn't want him to be the one to ask.
This was a new era for her right? Things had to be different this time around. She wanted to meet the inner vixen within that could consume a man, and move on with her night when she was done.
She wanted to be the one to check a text and set the phone down without responding because she was too busy with other things.
Maybe it was a sort of rebound for all of the relationships where she'd been left holding the bag because she was so "sweet" and accommodating.
In her previous life.
Not anymore.
This version of Jackie was a temptress, and if Liam's reaction to her was any indication, she was starting off with a fucking bang.
Jackie growled breathily as his teeth grazed her neck, shivering with anticipation when his fingers ably found the stop button on the elevator, 36 floors up. This was the sexiest interlude she'd ever begun, and it was taking place in a fucking, 5 Star elevator, of all places.
Liam's mouth finding her, his searing tongue flicking the tip of her own, he sucked her wholly into his mouth. A million starbursts broke out under her skin, and her core fevered, dampening her panties as he pressed the heat of his length against her.
Her eyes blinked open.
He was huge.
Slipping them closed again, she forced herself back into the mind of the newer, confident version of herself. It was fine. She could take it. Or she could learn to, at least. Slipping her hands past the waistband of his trousers, her fingers slid into his briefs and down the globes of his ass. Fuck, he was sexy. She wanted him to take her right there.
Seeming to intuit that, he broke away from the kiss, nipping the skin from her neck and tugging before loosing it.
"I wanna split you in two, right here, baby."
Jackie grinned.
"What's stopping you?"
F*ck Buddy Page 2
