“Yes Sir,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you,” I tell her. “I know how Cyrus can be. Just don’t let it happen again.”
I’m more than a little irritated. Ryan Communications hasn’t yet accepted our offer, and they are trying to drag the deal out by nitpicking on a hundred little things. Cyrus spent all weekend in Kansas, playing golf and schmoozing the guys on their board. He better have results for me.
“I thought I told you not to ride roughshod on Sophie,” I bite out as I walk in.
He waves his hand. “Forget about your secretary,” he says. “I thought you’d want a status update from Kansas City.”
I settle down on my chair and lean back, glaring at him. This fucking deal. If I was managing it, I’d tell Ryan Communications to accept our bid or we walk. But for some reason, Cyrus isn’t willing to do that. “So give me one,” I tell him.
“I talked to Brant Hollister,” he starts. “You know him? He’s the chairman of their board.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of who the crucial players are in this deal, Cyrus, thank you.” I don’t hold back the sarcasm. “What did Hollister have to say? When’s the deal coming up for a vote?”
“They want guarantees.”
“What kind?”
He avoids my gaze. “Since some of the payment is in Hartman stock, they want some guarantees on leadership. They don’t think you are taking being the CEO of Hartman seriously enough.”
I’ve heard variations of this line for months now. Cyrus has made no progress at all. “Cyrus,” I say, my voice dangerously flat, “this deal has dragged on for months. In the meanwhile, other, better opportunities have come and gone, and we’ve missed them because our focus has been on Ryan Communications. Here’s a guarantee for you. If Ryan does not sign in three weeks, we walk. Is that absolutely clear?”
“Don’t go ballistic at me,” he grouses. “I’m just the messenger.”
“No. You are not just the messenger. You are the Chief Operating Officer of Hartman, Cyrus, and you are not making any progress. I find myself questioning your judgment.”
He stops dead in his tracks. “I’m your uncle,” he says, his voice cold. “I taught you everything you know.”
“Aren’t you the one who always tells me to put the firm first?” I snap. “Well, I am. Get the fucking Ryan Communications deal done, Cyrus. Else, I assure you, there will be consequences.”
When Cyrus is gone, I lean back in my chair and look absently out of the window. Normally, the view of the city invigorates me, but today I just have a headache. Last night, I counseled Sebastian to fire his sous-chef Ben. Right now, I have a feeling that I’m going to need to take my own advice.
“Hey Sophie,” I press the button on the phone to talk to my assistant.
“Yes, Mr. Hartman?”
“Can you arrange a lunch meeting with my mother, please? As soon as she’s available.”
If it’s time to fire Cyrus, I need to enlist help. As ridiculous as it sounds, I need my mother. After all, she is the biggest shareholder in the company.
25
I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.
Herman Melville, Moby-Dick
Bailey:
The next two days are a blur.
Work is busy, but because I spent most of the weekend in my office, I’m done with my end of a paper I’m co-writing with Dr. Pierre Landrieu. Our topic is the adaptability of gender roles in isolated communities. My section is predominantly about my experiences in the Taiga, and requires no new research, just a re-read of the diaries and the blog I kept during my time there. Dr. Landrieu’s section will include his experiences from his time in Patagonia. Pierre Landrieu is a star in my world - one of the pioneering voices in cultural anthropology, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to co-write a paper with him.
I get several teasing messages from my girls about missing Monday night drinking. Each one makes me blush. Gabby doesn’t text me - instead, she calls and demands that we have lunch. “I refuse to be kept in the dark, Bails,” she says.
We meet for lunch and I tell her everything, Daniel’s stupid comment Friday night, the gift of vodka, which I finally picked up from FedEx, the Hartman Foundation grant to NYU, and finally, the proceedings of Monday night.
“So,” I ask her when I’m done, “do you think I’m a fool?”
“Normally I’d give you grief for sleeping with Daniel after he acted like an asshole,” she says thoughtfully. “But you know what? I’m tempted to give him a one-time pass. For some reason, Daniel Hartman is always in the tabloids. He’s probably sick of it.”
My heart sinks a little. Daniel didn’t come across as a player, but I can’t really trust my judgment about men. After all, I spent eleven months with Trevor. My instincts are horrible. “Is he always in the tabloids? What about?”
“That’s the thing,” she replies, taking a bite out of her egg salad sandwich. “He’s never doing anything particularly newsworthy. He could be walking down the street, and he’d make the Post. He’s dated some Hollywood actresses casually, but nothing that warrants this kind of coverage.”
“Yikes. He’s dated actresses?” I wince. “He’s definitely slumming it then.”
“Will you stop?” she demands. “You are beautiful and smart and accomplished.”
“That’s what they keep saying,” I confess. “Sebastian and Daniel. They get very irritated with me when I’m insecure.”
“In that case,” Gabby announces, “I think I like them. It is immensely irritating when you put yourself down. So this wasn’t a one-time thing?”
“I don’t think so,” I reply, crossing my fingers under the table. “I mean, it definitely has an expiration date, how could it not? But hey, as long as they still want to do it, I’m game. They are so hot.”
“That’s awesome, Bails.” Gabby seems genuinely happy for me. I wonder if she realizes she’s not entirely over her own threesome. Even now, two months after the fact, there’s a certain wistfulness in her eyes when she talks about Carter and Dominic. She’s been hurt by men before, and she’s wary for a reason, but because I care about my friend’s happiness, I wish she’d try to find them. They were good to her, and she needs to date more men like that.
* * *
I’ve never been excited about going to play a game of pool, but I’m almost giddy with anticipation by the time Wednesday evening comes around. Per Daniel’s instructions, I get to the Maxwell Club early, which I can assure you almost never happens, but when I arrive, both men are already there waiting for me.
Thankfully, Juliette is nowhere to be seen. I haven’t told Sebastian about my encounter with her in the bathroom last week. I’m not really catty, and I’m convinced that complaining about her will only make me sound petty and childish.
The guys smirk when they see me. “You’re planning something,” I accuse them with a grin as I walk up. “I can tell.”
“Yup.” Sebastian grins widely. “Come with me,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him. “Daniel would like us to stay relatively inconspicuous,” he mocks. “So he’ll allow us a head start.”
Daniel makes a rude gesture at Sebastian, and I stifle a giggle. Sebastian is unfazed. “Coming, Bailey?” he asks me.
After Gabby’s revelation about Daniel attracting more than his share of tabloid attention, I’ve forgiven him for that stupid ‘keep this out of the press’ comment. However, teasing him is fair game. “Of course,” I tell Sebastian meekly. “You know me, I’m always obedient.”
Daniel snorts. “We’ll find out soon enough how obedient you are,” he promises, sending a shiver of heat through me. I’m dying of curiosity, but I’m not going to give in and ask them what they are going to do. Biting my tongue, I follow Sebastian.
“Fascinating place, the Maxwell Club,” he says conversationally, as we walk toward the restrooms. Are we going to do it there? I wonder. I’m not opposed to washroom sex on pr
inciple, though I’d prefer somewhere less germ-filled.
Before we get there, we stop in front of a door marked Staff. Sebastian waves a keycard at the lock, and the door opens. Another long corridor stretches in front of us. Sebastian seems to know where he’s going. He takes my hand in his, and leads me forward.
“How do you know where to go?”
He chuckles. “Daniel told me. He has a signature line, as I’m sure you’ll find out. It’s my business to know.”
“Is it his business to know?” I grin. “I can’t imagine how the back corridors of a private club in Manhattan concern Daniel.”
“That’s because you aren’t using enough imagination,” a smooth voice says from behind us. I jump and pivot around, but it’s just Daniel, his brown eyes gleaming as he struggles not to laugh at me.
“You scared me,” I accuse him. “Why do you know about the back rooms here?”
He links his arm in mine. “A few months ago, a reporter for the New York Times did a feature about this place on its hundredth anniversary. At that time, the club president offered a few of us tours of the back, including the closed off sections.”
“Let me guess, it’s really a sex club.”
“Would you like it to be, Bailey?” he asks, his voice rich with amusement. “Do you want to go to one?” His eyes gleam.
“Do you fantasize about being on display in front of everyone, Bailey?” Sebastian prompts. “Is that it? You have a secret exhibitionist streak in you?”
“Is there a real sex club here?” There’s a tremor in my voice and my footsteps slow down. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Not just yet. Even though each word they utter causes the coils of lust in my core to tighten painfully, and even though my nipples are hard pebbles, poking out through my t-shirt.
“No,” Sebastian admits. “Though it was interesting to watch your reaction.”
I punch his arm. “Stop laughing at me,” I tell him. “Else I’m going back out there and focusing on my pool game.”
“Oh, you’ll be focusing on your pool game tonight,” Daniel says blandly. “In fact, it’s to give you a little bit of extra incentive that we’ve brought you here.” He stops in front of a door and waves his wallet at it. The lock turns green and he turns the handle. “Come on, Bailey,” he invites. “Or are you afraid?”
“Of you?” I give him my most challenging look, and move into the room, with an exaggerated sway of my hips. “Definitely not.”
The sparsely decorated room we enter looks like a disused conference room. There’s nothing the slightest bit erotic about it, yet my eyes fixate on the table in the middle of the room, and I wonder if we are going to have sex on it.
“No, we aren’t,” Sebastian interprets my expression correctly. “But I like the way you think. Drop your pants, honey. We have a present for you.”
The present is a glass butt plug. It looks intimidating and heavy, and I gulp. In theory, I’m game for anal sex. In practice? I can’t see how this object is going to fit in my ass.
“Relax, we have lube,” Daniel says. He notices that I’m still clothed. “Pants down, Bailey,” he scolds. “We’re running out of time. You need to practice your pool game.”
“With the butt plug in me?” I squeak, my voice shrill. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Sebastian says. “Daniel and I have been chatting about your game. There’s nothing wrong with your mechanics. You just don’t think you can win. So, today, we are giving you something else to focus on.”
“A butt plug?” Though I remain skeptical, my hands are undoing the waistband on my jeans, and pushing them down to my knees, along with my panties. “The great secret to helping me at pool is to stuff a butt plug up my ass? How on earth did I fail to think of that?”
Smack. Daniel’s palm connects with my ass in a stinging blow. Undoubtedly, this is punishment for the sarcasm. I turn to look at him, and find his eyes twinkling at me. “Want another?”
The stinging has faded into a dull prickle, but the gush of wetness from my core remains. I liked that. I liked the unexpected harshness of that slap. The slight sense of danger I feel turns me on. “Whatever,” I say flippantly, knowing that I’ll make him mad.
His lips curl into a smile. His palm connects harshly once again with my bottom. “Bend over the table,” he orders.
I obey, my breasts mashing into the cool glass of the tabletop, and Sebastian gently kicks my legs open wide. “You spread for us, do you understand?”
“If I feel like it.” My words are airy, my body begs for another hard slap. I get one, but this time, Daniel’s palm doesn’t hit my ass. He connects with my pussy and I hiss in pain as a sharp ache radiates from the spot where I’ve been spanked.
Sebastian’s hands steady me instantly, his fingers soothing me. “Let’s get the plug in.” He brushes away a strand of hair from my face, and his lips find mine. “You okay, Bailey?” he whispers. “It’s just a game. It stops whenever you say so.”
“I know.” My voice is hushed. “I’m fine. It feels good to let go.”
“There’s always a safety net, sweetheart,” Daniel’s voice is quiet. “You won’t fall. We won’t let you.”
Did Daniel just call me sweetheart? What the heck is that about? I want to stop and process that, but I feel the trickle of lube at my anus, and one of them inserts two fingers into me to prepare me for the plug.
My ass is still warm from my earlier spanks, my pussy already wet. When the two of them push the butt plug slowly and steadily into my anus, there’s a burning stretch, but I’m still turned on.
“Are you trying to push a watermelon up there?” I bite out. “How big does this plug need to be, anyway?”
Sebastian enters my line of sight. “Bailey,” he shakes his head, smirking. “You have seen my dick, haven’t you? Trust me, you’ll appreciate our consideration when it’s time for both of us to take you.”
A vision of them stretching my pussy and my ass with their dicks flashes in my mind, and this time, I can’t keep back the moan. “Fuck, that’s hot,” I groan. “You guys are killing me here.”
The plug keeps pushing against me, and finally, with a pop, it’s seated in place, and my anus has closed around the neck. “There you go,” Daniel pats my ass, as if pushing butt plugs into my butt is a commonplace occurrence for him. His hard, bulging erection proves that he’s not quite as detached as he appears. “Get your pants back on. It’s time to play pool.”
“What?” My cry is plaintive. “You can’t key me up this way and not get me off… that’s not fair.”
Daniel laughs. “Life isn’t fair, princess,” he points out.
“Says the billionaire,” I retort sullenly.
Sebastian pulls me into his body. “Stop pouting,” he mutters in my ear, his voice vibrating against me in a way that makes me want to grind my ass against his erection. “We’ll get you off tonight. After you win.”
I want to tell them that I have fingers and am perfectly capable of taking care of my own pleasure. But who am I fooling? I need Daniel and Sebastian to make me come. I want to be bracketed between their hard bodies.
The weight of the butt plug in my ass acts as a physical anchor, holding back my sassy retort. “Fine,” I say instead. “Let’s go play.”
26
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
Mark Twain
Bailey:
We have about an hour of practice time before Clark and Juliette show up, and I take full advantage. First, I order a couple of different appetizer platters, after making Daniel and Sebastian promise they’ll share the food with me. “Didn’t get a chance to eat all day?” Daniel asks me, looking bemused at the amount of food I’ve ordered.
“I like variety,” I wink at him. It’s fun knowing that I have a butt plug in my ass. It makes me feel quite naughty. “Are we going to play?” I ask them once I’m done ordering enough food to feed a small village. “Because I need t
o beat Trevor. He’s a dickwad.”
Though I’ve had other things on my mind since Sunday, I haven’t forgotten Trevor’s mockery of my pool league aspirations. When I tell Sebastian and Daniel about the way he sneered, their gazes grow dark. “I’m going to look forward to the moment when you kick this guy’s ass, Bailey,” Sebastian says.
Daniel doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s pissed, and his irritation warms my heart. Yes, they have fifty grand riding on me beating my opponent at the end of season tournament, but it’s more than that. I think they care.
As I play a friendly match with Sebastian, emotions take a backseat to lust. I’m very aware of the plug lodged in my ass. I’m terrified that it’s going to fall out, so I keep my lower muscles firmly clenched and hope that it doesn’t move.
Sebastian misses his shot and I move forward, chalking my cue. I’m about to bend forward when a low hum pulses through my body. I almost scream with shock, then I see the grins of amusement that both Daniel and Sebastian are trying to conceal. I walk over on shaking legs to them. “Is this thing on a remote?” I hiss out, careful to keep my voice low so the players at the adjoining tables won’t hear me. “How am I expected to focus when I’m struggling not to come?”
“Poor Bailey,” Daniel says to me. He wraps his arm around my lower back, and pulls me into his body. “What we are asking of you,” he murmurs into my throat, “is so difficult. But you are going to win tonight, aren’t you? You are going to rise to the challenge.”
“We’re in public,” I mutter weakly. “Someone might be watching.”
He releases me with a bemused expression on his face. “Would you believe I forgot?” he asks no one in particular. “I never forget.” He shakes his head. “The effect you have on me, Bailey…”
“Make your shot,” Sebastian says to me. “Forget the vibrations of the butt plug. Eye on the ball, and only the ball.”
Betting on Bailey (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 1) Page 14
