by Nina West
“Yes, Mr. Wolf,” I mumble, my head bowed and my focus on my iPad, reminding myself of his words this morning before he left. This is what he meant about not taking anything personally. His tone with me has been sharp and his words clipped, since I met him for the staff meeting earlier. They’ve carried through to the grand opening planning checkpoints that have followed.
It must be working, because Belinda has barely given me a glance today. She must be convinced that Henry would rather fire me than sleep with me.
But everything has changed.
“We have everything under control. The Wolf men just need to show up, smile, and look sharp, and everything will go smoothly,” she purrs.
I’m going to meet Henry’s father. I wonder what he’s like in person.
“Great,” Henry murmurs, checking his watch.
“What time is the photography session this afternoon, again?” Belinda asks Henry, though her raised brow is directed at me.
“Uh...” I frown, pulling out my calendar. Photography session?
“You got my message, didn’t you? I sent it at seven this morning.”
At seven this morning I was splayed out on Henry’s desk with his face between my legs. I swallow, struggling to keep my cheeks from flaming. “I don’t know how I missed it.”
“World Hotel is here to do a spread on Mr. Wolf this afternoon and you missed my message?” She glances at her watch. “It’s already noon!”
“Enough. What is this about?” Henry asks irritably.
“They want three hours of your time to take some pictures around the hotel and out in the Alaskan wild at one o’clock this afternoon,” I explain, reading out the top line of Belinda’s e-mail for the first time. Somehow I skipped over it. “For a feature as one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.” I keep my expression smooth, hiding my disdain.
“Three hours?” he mutters, and I know this isn’t an act; he’s truly annoyed. “I don’t have three hours.”
“You’ll have to make it. It’s important for business,” Belinda admonishes.
“How is me being a bachelor important for the hotel?”
“Because everyone reads those kinds of articles.”
“Why is this so last-minute?”
“Because an opportunity came up and I made the executive decision as the hotel manager to take it!” I can’t believe she has the nerve to speak to him like that.
He shakes his head. “Wardrobe changes and all, I’m guessing?”
“They asked for three, including a suit. We have an hour. It’s okay, we can make this work,” I pipe in. I feel like such an ass for missing this email.
“Fuck, I hate these things.” He begins to pace. “I never know what to wear.”
“Don’t worry. I know how to dress you,” Belinda offers, and jealousy spikes deep within me.
He’s punching something into his phone as he talks. “You’re my hotel manager. You need to be here. That’s why I have Abbi.”
“Abbi.” Belinda gives him an “are you serious” glare.
“She’s done a good enough job so far.”
I’d like to shoot Belinda a snooty glare, but I settle on keeping my head down and hiding my smug smile of satisfaction.
She heaves a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I need you for a few more minutes and then you should go...”
Belinda’s words drift into the background as my phone vibrates in my hand. I check it to see a text from Henry.
You wouldn’t mind undressing me and helping me choose a few things to wear, right?
My heart begins to race. I press my lips together to keep from smiling, as I type in:
If I must, though it is a chore.
Are we already at the playful texting stage? This is moving fast. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re confined to a remote hotel in the Alaskan wilderness and acting out on primitive needs. That’s all we’re doing, I remind myself. I can’t let my dreams get painted with jet-setting and a trip down the aisle. Or even a real relationship.
Henry is responding to something else Belinda asked as he types, his tone all business.
Another message comes through.
I can still taste you coming in my mouth.
My notebook and iPad slip from my suddenly shaky grasp and land on the floor, earning Belinda’s annoyed glare. Mouthing an “I’m sorry,” I dare a glance Henry’s way.
His steely mask is firmly in place, as usual. “Is there anything else, Belinda? Because I have to go smile for three hours in front of a camera, thanks to you.”
She clears her throat. “That’s all for now. Abbi, I hope you at least remembered to have his tux ready?”
There’s that tone again. I could let it bother me, but I don’t because I’m the one who gets to dress—and undress—Henry. “Yup.” I let my gaze skate over his strong stature. That man in a tux...
Belinda leads the way and I follow, sensing the ghost of warm fingertips at the small of my back.
~ ~ ~ ~
“The Tom Ford.”
I grab the suit off the hook and lay it out on the bed, hollering, “How about the gold tie?”
“Sure.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch him drag the razor over the curve of his jaw. He’s fresh from yet another shower and wrapped in a towel, and the sight is making my pulse pump hard in my veins. But the playful text from earlier seems to have slipped from his mind. He’s all business now.
“Where else do they want to go?”
I scan the forwarded e-mail. “It says ‘maybe a few on the docks with the planes, a quick trip around the cove on his private boat, and, if possible, some wilderness’.”
“No wardrobe requirements?”
“‘More casual’ is all it says. So...” My mouth twists with thought as my fingers push through the various items hanging in his closet. All expensive, designer, high-thread-count clothing. He looked hot that day in the woods, cutting wood. And the day I watched him get off the plane. He could make a pair of sweatpants look sexy, to be honest.
I pull out a pair of dark blue jeans and black crew-neck sweater, along with a yellow-and-black checkered coat, similar to the red one he normally wears. I finish it off with his beanie.
He sidles up beside me with a smirk. “You want me to dress as a lumberjack?”
“I don’t know.” I giggle nervously, collecting the jacket to put it back on the hook. “You should have had Belinda do this for you. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He seizes my wrist before I can take two steps. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Discount yourself so easily.” He pulls the coat from my grasp and tosses it onto the bed. “I like confident women, and I think that beneath all this insecurity, there is a strong, self-assured woman.” Leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of my neck, he adds in a murmur, “And I can’t wait until you let me see her.”
A few orgasms and mind-blowing sex has definitely helped us get more comfortable around each other quickly.
I reach for his chest, my fingers gliding over still-damp but hot skin, memorizing the grooves and curves and ripples, all the way down to his towel. My hand just manages to cover the hard outline of his cock when he seizes it in his. His fingers squeeze and mold over himself, wrapping my hand over his girth.
“We don’t have enough time for what I want to do to you.” His whisper is pained.
I honestly don’t think I could handle any more sex right now; my body still feels thoroughly used from this morning. It’s a wonderful feeling though, knowing that Henry was there. Going about my day still feeling him there.
“We have fifteen minutes. Let me do what I want to do to you.” My fingers dip into the fold of the towel, pulling it apart until it falls to the ground and I have Henry standing naked in front of me again. I haven’t stopped thinking about the blow job I gave him yesterday. How much I enjoyed it, how much I wanted to do it again. Do it better.
His eyes burn as he wa
tches me sit on the edge of the bed. I pull him toward me with my hands on his hips, face-to-face with his cock, swollen and glistening at the tip. My mouth waters. Just knowing that I’ve caused that reaction is enough to make me grow wet. I’m never not wet around Henry anymore, though.
“Who knew you’d be so greedy,” he murmurs. I look up to see the smirk on his lips before his hand comes around to the back of my head. Fingers weave through my hair and then he pulls me forward.
I lick him more confidently than I did yesterday, now that I know what he likes, flattening my tongue as I run it along the underside, leaving a glistening trail from root to tip. I do it again, only this time I let my small pink tongue dart out to tickle the ball sac hanging beneath, so heavy and full.
“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back in pleasure as I keep licking him, teasing him. “Suck me, please,” he finally begs.
I open my mouth wide and wrap my lips around his soft skin, taking in as much of him in as I can. He hits the back of my throat each time, and I’m so glad for my nearly non-existent gag reflex, something I never appreciated until now.
He tastes so good, like nothing I can describe, but I can’t get enough of it and the feel of him gently tugging my hair and the motion of his hips as he occasionally thrusts himself in.
Suddenly, he whispers, “Let me pull out. I want to come on you.” I release him and he slips his cock out of my mouth and pushes back against my shoulder. “Lean back, onto your elbows.”
I follow instructions, while watching him intently. With two strong, frantic hands, he grabs hold of either side of my blouse and tears. Buttons pop as the blouse rips open, all the way down to where it’s tucked into my skirt. He yanks against my bra cups until my breasts spill out the top.
And then he grabs hold of his heavy cock, still wet from my mouth and swollen, and he begins pumping it hard and fast and shamelessly.
It’s such an erotic sight to take in his beautiful, powerful body as he so confidently jerks off in front of me, that my legs begin spreading, my thighs opening up to him. It’s my body’s involuntary urge to feel him inside me.
“Push up your skirt.”
I do, letting it bunch around my hips. He hooks a finger around the crotch of my panties and he yanks until they slide down, past my knees, down to my ankles, exposing my sore sex to him. “What I would do to have that again right now,” he pushes out through gritted teeth. His hand suddenly shoots out, gently pushing me down until I’m lying on the bed.
With his loud cry, cum spurts out in hot streams all over my bare breasts and stomach and thighs. One stream lands right on my clit. His hand slows with the last spray, his pants hard and fast. “Christ, woman.”
“We need to have a discussion about your use of the Lord’s name.”
His head falls back with his deep laugh. I smile, watching this magnificent man in front of me, naked, laugh about something I’ve said while still recovering from orgasming with me. It’s just so intimate.
When his laughter dies down, he strolls to the vanity, dampening a washcloth. I can’t keep my eyes off his still semi-hard cock bobbing up and down on his way back. I want it in me again. I already miss that full feeling.
His hand is gentle as he wipes himself off my body, paying extra attention to the cum dripping off my nipples. When he gets to my lower half, he slides a finger across my sore clit and brings it to my lips. “Taste me.”
I open my mouth. He dips his finger in and I suck off the salty cream watching his eyes light up with excitement. “I like that you’re so eager.” He keeps wiping away until my skin is clean.
“I never thought that would be something a man would want to do, coming on a woman’s body.”
He grins darkly. “I can’t wait to show you all the things I like to do.”
My stomach spasms at the promise.
“You should work naked for me.”
“I may have to if you do that to my uniform again.” The buttons are torn and scattered, my skirt covered in his semen.
“Yeah, I went a little bit overboard. Run to your cabin and get changed and let me get dressed, or I’ll be late for this session. I’m already going to be late.”
I glance at the clock. That took all of eight minutes, giving him seven minutes to dress. Not enough time.
Taking me by the hand, he pulls me off the bed. I yelp at his swat against my ass. “I can’t have your naked tits in my face anymore or the outline of my cock will be on the cover of World Hotel.” Just before I duck out of his bedroom, he adds, “Toss the blouse. There’s no way to explain why it was ripped open.”
Shit. “My other one’s at the cleaners.”
“Don’t bother with the uniform today. Wear something casual.”
Casual. Okay. I fix myself as best I can, thankful for the sweater and vest I wore this morning, and then head for my cabin.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Can you turn your head to the left, just a touch. Yes. Perfect,” Hachiro croons, aiming his giant lens. “Fuck, these are going to be hot.”
I say nothing about the pint-sized Japanese photographer’s lack of professionalism, instead focusing on his subject, a sharp-looking Henry in the Tom Ford suit and gold tie that I laid out for him, leaning against a stack of armor stones outside the main lodge. I have to agree with him, though, and it’s not just because of the man he’s capturing. The entire vista is dreamlike. Most Americans will never venture this far north to see the foreign part of their own country.
“It must be something, working so closely with a man like that. He’s like steel. You can see the power he wields in his steady jaw,” Hachiro murmurs, glancing over at me, his narrow eyes drifting over my black leggings and hiking boots. They look decent enough with the vest and sweater that Henry bought me and, all in all, are the most stylish thing I own besides jeans. And, being next to Henry, I’m wishing I had an entire new wardrobe and someone to dress me.
I don’t take the overview personally. I noticed right away that he assesses everything and everybody within his line of sight. I guess it’s the photographer in him.
“Yes. He wields a lot of power.” I fight to roll my eyes.
Henry stands tall, calm and collected, seemingly unbothered by the guests who linger, watching as the handsome billionaire gets photographed.
Nothing like the version I saw only thirty minutes ago, his face contorted with ecstasy, his hand grasping himself so aggressively, his cries escaping from a deep and vulnerable place.
I hide my smile behind a sip of water. My intimate memories of him are mine and mine alone.
“Okay, now give me your back, and slide your hands into your pockets casually. Look into the distance, but give me your right profile,” Hachiro directs, nodding emphatically when Henry does as asked. I can already see this picture as being one I want to stare at for hours.
“When will the magazine be published?” I ask.
“Next month,” he confirms, then in a lower voice, “Hey, so do you think he’d agree to some nudes?”
I press my lips together to keep from bursting out with laughter. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
~ ~ ~ ~
“You were fine on the ferry trip over, weren’t you?” Henry peers at me with worried eyes as he steers the boat. Behind him, Hachiro’s face watches with a mix of annoyance and disgust. I am taking up valuable time with his steely muse, after all.
“Yes. But that boat was bigger and it wasn’t so rocky.” As if in answer, a gust of wind sweeps past, swaying Henry’s boat. And my stomach.
“We’re going back.” Henry begins turning the wheel.
“No! Don’t. You do what you need to do, and I’m just going to lie down in the cabin and wait for the Antivert to kick in. I’ll be fine.”
That doesn’t seem to appease Henry, but at least he doesn’t argue with me, allowing me to duck past him and through the small door to the cabin below. It’s cramped and yet quaint, reminding me of my aunt May’s sma
ll travel trailer, with a narrow couch on one side, a dinette table on the other, and a compact kitchen area behind me. Ahead, in the bow of the boat, I see a bed.
I head for that now, diving onto the wool blanket, inhaling the scent of Henry’s cologne. When did he lie here last?
Was he alone?
The thought of him with another woman twists my gut in an unpleasant way. A way that reminds me of catching Jed with that girl. I don’t think I can survive that again.
I push all of those thoughts aside and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing, hoping that the medication will work and that I don’t have to use the plastic bag I stuffed into my purse before boarding.
The sea sickness has almost subsided fifteen minutes later when my personal phone beeps with a text. I seldom get texts. Really, only one person texts me.
How is Alaska? I hear you’re working for some rich guy?
I haven’t talked to Jed since March, and this is the first message he sends me? I’m annoyed, and angry, and yet I can’t stop myself from responding.
Alaska is incredible. Yup. SUPER rich.
The old me would have responded with a “how are things?” question. But I let the phone fall to the mattress as I wait for his response, the deeply hidden vindictive part of me thinking of a hundred other highly inappropriate, hopefully hurtful things that I could respond with.
Yes, his name is Henry and he made me orgasm with his mouth.
You should see the size of his dick.
Cum is warmer than I expected.
My phone beeps with another incoming text. I’m surprised I’m even getting them out here.
What do you do for him?
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.
“Abbi?” I hear Henry holler from outside the cabin. The boat’s engine has quieted, the motion slowed. I heard some commotion out there a moment ago. Maybe we’ve anchored.
“I’m fine,” I call back, smiling up at the ceiling. I’m more than fine. A week in Alaska and I’m doing exactly what I wanted to do: forgetting the past and encountering things I’ve never experienced before.
