by Vivian Wood
She cried out as she sprawled on the bed, her lush ass in the air. She turned over and sat up halfway, unintentionally thrusting her breasts out. He growled a little as he crawled on top of her, pushing her back down. He kissed her again as he wrestled her hands up above her head, then kissed her neck.
She moaned when he sucked on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, almost coming off the bed when he cupped her breasts. He pushed her knees up and apart, kissing his way down her body.
He nuzzled her lower lips, admiring the way they glistened. He’d done that, excited her that much. He spread her with two fingers and licked his lips.
“Smith…” she protested weakly as he went straight for her clit, teasing it with slow licks. “Smith, god damn it!”
She tasted so good. He had to savor it though, because she pulled his head up, forcing his body to follow.
She kissed him vigorously, pulling him down to her. He groaned softly as his cock brushed up against her pussy, hot and willing.
“Do you have protection?” she whispered, flexing her hips against his.
“One second…” he said, withdrawing. He grabbed his trousers, searching, and was rewarded with a telltale crinkle.
He pulled the condom out, and rolled it on with deft fingers. He returned to her, grasping his cock and pressing the head flush to her entrance. When he pushed in, feeling the warm heat of her body, she cried out.
“God, yes,” he muttered. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Even with the condom between them, she felt like fucking heaven. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his size. It seemed she was impatient though, because she bucked her hips.
“Please, Smith,” she gasped. “Don’t make me wait.”
He grabbed her waist, withdrawing and slamming himself home with a snap of his hips. They both cried out. He did it again, slowly, and again. Each time he sank himself into her body, chills raked his spine.
“Jesus, Cameron,” he whispered. He picked up the pace, putting her leg over his shoulder to make it feel deeper.
She raked her nails across his back, crisscrossing his flesh. That little bite of pain only increased his pleasure. He felt her tightening around him. She moved with him as he fucked her, meeting every thrust.
His skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat as he moved inside her, determined to make her explode. He thought of her nails against his back; maybe she needed the same push, a nudge over the edge.
He wrapped one hand around the front of her neck. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t discourage him. He squeezed gently, feeling the raw power of having her life in his hands. He’d never felt so dominant, so alive.
It was intoxicating.
“More,” she whispered. “Please. I’m so close…”
He cut off her breath for a few seconds. She responded immediately, moaning and writhing. He gripped her neck again, and she convulsed beneath him, clenching. As soon as he let go, she screamed as she came.
Smith’s own orgasm was barreling down upon him. He felt his seed spurt forth, jetting from his body as he pumped into her. When he was finally sated, he slowed, coming to rest on top of her.
He held his weight on his forearms, kissing Cameron on the lips. She kissed him back, but slowly, sluggishly. He withdrew from her body, tugging off the condom and throwing it aside.
He settled in beside her, pulling her body close. He was plagued with stray thoughts as his breathing slowed, things he couldn’t possibly say out loud.
Foremost among those thoughts was what the hell he was supposed to do with her now. Sighing, he shut the thoughts out. He turned on his side and watched her as she fell asleep, refusing to be plagued with doubts.
16
Cameron could admit it to herself: she was definitely eavesdropping. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom next to Spencer’s office, having silently tracked Spencer and Smith through the house.
Now she could hear Spencer talking about the business, although it wasn’t very helpful information. Most of it was boring enough to put her to sleep.
“How about that girl that works for you? What’s her name?” Spencer said.
Cam froze. This certainly wasn’t the direction that she’d seen the conversation going.
“Her name is Cameron,” Smith said. He sounded bored by the conversation, though she couldn’t see him.
“Do you like her?”
There was a long pause. “Yes. She’s a competent executive assistant.”
There was a clunk, like something heavy being put down. Spencer sighed heavily.
“You know that’s not what I mean, Smith.”
“It’s what you asked. You asked if I like her.”
“I want to know if she’s pleasant to fuck.”
Silence lapsed for several seconds.
“I’m not fucking her,” Smith gritted out.
“Why not? She’s obviously your type,” Spencer said casually.
“Piss off.”
“Are you saying that I went to the trouble of having a woman hired to the company with your specific needs in mind, and you are not taking advantage?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is if I am bankrolling the entire operation. Is there someone else that catches your fancy?”
“No!” Smith said. “No. I’m happy having her as my executive assistant.”
“Well, I think you’re foolish. The woman clearly wants you.”
Cam heard the creak of leather.
“I’m going to bed,” Smith said.
“To her bed, if you’ve any sense.”
She heard Smith’s heavy footsteps storming down the hallway, heading toward his bedroom. He’d be looking for her soon, if she had to guess. She planned to say that she was outside on the back porch.
She stuck her head out into the hallway, trying to see if the coast was clear. She saw no one, and was about to sneak out when Spencer’s voice stopped her.
“Hello, Stacey,” he said.
Cam stilled, then backed into the bathroom again. Better safe than sorry. She listened closely behind the partially closed bathroom door.
“Well, if you did your job, I wouldn’t need to check up on you,” he said. “I moved the money out of the employees’ retirement account and into my account in the Cayman Islands.”
She put her fingers over her mouth. For a second, she wondered if Spencer saw her, and was messing with her. After looking around for a second though, she was pretty sure that he had no inkling of her presence. She’d been ultra-cautious in following Smith and Spencer around the house.
“Obviously the employees will notice that their retirement fund is almost empty, Stacey. That’s why you are going to tamper with the files and cover my ass for a while.” He paused. “Yes. I’m going to resign publicly, which will tank the stock. We will buy a bunch of shares under a shell company, sell the stock short, and retire to Luxembourg.”
Her eyes went wide. He was stealing from the employees’ pension fund with the intention of getting caught?
“My son will take over the company,” Spencer said. “Leave the angry employees to him.”
Suddenly Spencer emerged from his office, heading down the hall. “Honestly, Stacey. It’s like I’ve never explained any of this before…”
She snuck a peek. Spencer was heading down the grand staircase, on his way somewhere. She leaned against the vanity in the dark, winded. She held her hands out in front of her face; even in the dark, she could tell she was shaking.
She needed to move, to tell Erika what she’d discovered. Erika would know how to double-check what Cam had just heard Spencer say.
She grabbed her cell phone from her pocket and sat down to text Erika. The few details that Cam had overheard were spilled over a few texts.
She sat on the counter and waited for Erika to text her back. She didn’t have to wait long.
Holy shit. I can’t believe he said that in your earshot, was Erika’s response. Then, We have to get pr
oof. Actual evidence.
I agree, Cam responded. I’m freaking out about what to tell Smith.
What? No no no! You don’t tell Smith anything until we’re ready to publish! came the response. Work on finding corroborating evidence!
Cam bit her lip, slipping her phone back in her pocket. If Spencer was bold enough to discuss his plan in the house, there might be some evidence in his office.
She peered out in the hall, making sure it was all quiet. She darted into his office, all done up in leather. She grabbed the papers that were on top of the desk and flipped through them, but they appeared to be nothing more than sales projections.
Looking toward the open door, Cam quickly pulled open the desk drawers and looked through the papers she found there. Most of them were just sales projections or memos from the accountants.
In the second drawer, though, she finally hit pay dirt. The page was right on top, labeled List of Account Transfers. It was dated from yesterday. The left side listed all the accounts in the company, with most of them losing or gaining a small amount. The final figure was listed on the right side.
The account named Employee Pension started with an astonishingly large amount of money… and ended with less than a thousand dollars. At the bottom of the page was Spencer’s signature, writ large.
“No way,” she said, shaking her head. This must be the paperwork that he’d mentioned to Stacey, what she had to tidy up. Her heart beat double time, thinking that Spencer could be so casual about his theft of company funds.
Folding several pieces of paper and tucking them in her bra, Cam closed the drawers and stealthily crept out of the office. She headed to her bedroom, pulse pounding.
When she got there, she closed the door and collapsed on her bed. She was in disbelief. She’d found actual, concrete proof that the senior Calloway was corrupt…
And she couldn’t tell Smith, the one person who deserved to know the most. She pulled the papers from her bra, but couldn’t look at them.
Did she dare to pull the trigger?
On the other hand, did she dare not?
17
Cameron leaned back in her seat, watching Smith through her lashes as they drove back to the city. He was silent, his eyes on the road. She was supposed to be asleep, but when they’d reentered the city, the city lights had woken her up.
They must be close to home, judging by the fact that she’d woken up about fifteen minutes ago. She watched his face as he drove, and wondered what he was thinking.
He slowed the Tesla down, and took a sharp right turn into the parking deck of his building. He looked over at her, and she opened her eyes fully.
“Hey,” he said, his mouth turning up. “We’re at my place. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and raising her seat. “Are we stopping for something?”
“I thought we could stay here tonight,” he said, glancing away.
Staying at his place wasn’t that unusual of a request. She just hadn’t been prepared for it.
“Oh. Uh… okay.”
He frowned.
“Are you sure?” he said as he slid into a spot.
“I would definitely tell you if I wasn’t.”
“Alright,” he said, turning the car off. “Let’s go upstairs, then.”
She got out, looking around the below-ground parking deck. It was gray and dark, with lots of fancy cars parked in it. Smith opened the trunk and took their bags out, then headed for the elevator.
Cameron followed him into the elevator. He smiled at her as they rode up to the penthouse. She found herself looking at him, in his black t-shirt and black jeans, and blushing. She could admit it to herself. He was hot as hell, and he hadn’t even done anything special to merit it.
She could see the definition of his arms and chest from here, and it was almost too much to handle. The elevator chimed, the doors opening.
“After you,” he said, tilting his head.
“Thanks,” she said, stepping into a boring white hallway. She expected that she was supposed to move down the hallway toward a sleek steel door.
He moved around her so that he got to the door first, dropping the suitcases on the floor. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
“Ladies first,” he said.
She smiled and stepped inside. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, maybe some austere white space. But this was anything but austere. The space had dark teak wood floors, white walls, huge windows, and colorful pieces of art here and there. They entered through the kitchen, seeing white cabinets, dark countertops, and a stainless steel island.
“This is really something,” she said, looking around the kitchen.
“I’ll let the architect know that you approve,” he said, moving the luggage inside.
She looked at him, and saw the flash of humor in his eyes. She scowled.
“It’s not everyday that I’m in a place like this,” she said. “Not everyone has the luxury.”
His face changed from amused to regretful.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. Come see the rest.”
She reluctantly allowed him to take her hand and show her the living room, the home gym, the home office, the spare bedroom, and his own bedroom.
“Saved the best for last,” he joked, turning on the lights in his bedroom.
The room was very much him, all dark wood and navy walls. The bed looked impossibly crisp and white; she wondered when was the last time he’d slept in it.
“It looks like you,” she said, wandering in. A tall bookshelf housed a lot of stylish books, while the wall just to the left had a very small Renoir.
She almost asked if it was the real thing, then thought better of it. It certainly wouldn’t help her sleep if the painting were real.
“You like Michael Chabon?” she asked, going back to the bookshelf.
“Yes. I read a lot of his works during uni,” he said.
He took off his boots, then sat down on the bed. He reached over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer out. He fished around in it, then produced a key card.
“For me?” she said when he handed it to her. “To get into this apartment?”
“For you,” he affirmed. “For emergencies.”
She smiled playfully.
“Do all your executive assistants get one?” she asked coyly.
He looked her up and down. She felt shy, like she should have worn more than the flimsy cotton dress she’d thrown on. He grabbed her hands when she made to cover herself, then pulled her onto his lap.
She flushed hot. Straddling him like this, it was impossible not to feel his hardened cock through his jeans.
“Definitely not,” he said, sliding his hand into her hair and bringing her down to meet his lips.
She kissed him, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body. He moved down to kiss her neck, which made her shudder with pleasure. He squeezed one of her breasts. Her body burned for his, the fire spreading first between her breasts and then down between her legs.
She rocked her hips against his, craving his touch there. He sucked in a breath as her hand crept down between their bodies.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling her head back. “I want you to get off my lap and get naked.”
She bit her lip, pushing off of him. He released her hair, getting up.
“Naked,” he reiterated. “And on the edge of the bed. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared, leaving her to strip down. She took off her dress, toeing off her heels. She hesitated, then unhooked her bra and took that off. She waited for a second to see if Smith would reappear, but he didn’t.
Cam pushed her tiny thong down her legs, stepping out of it. She moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down.
He came back, wielding a popsicle and… a cucumber. Her eyes went wide.
“A cucumber?” she said. The very idea of using a cucumber made her squirm. Wasn’t that what he was for?
He grinned. He tossed the cucumber on the bed, pulling his t-shirt off over his head. He looked appreciatively at her naked body, her nipples alert.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, coming over to stand between her legs. “Just be with me, Cameron.”
He tore the wrapper off the popsicle, revealing the flavor. It was yellowish-orange, and after he tasted it, he gave her a taste. It was sweet but light.
He knelt down between her knees, sucking on the popsicle. She couldn’t help but stare at him, at the way his mouth and throat worked as he sucked on the popsicle.
“It’s sweet,” he said, his eyes dark. “But not as sweet as you.”
He kissed her, the fruity flavor of the popsicle still on his tongue. Then he pulled back, brushing the popsicle over the tip of her breast. He followed the cold of the popsicle with the heat of his mouth, using his tongue.
She moaned and thrust her chest out. The hot and cold sensations were so opposite, raising goosebumps across her flesh. She could feel everything so much more sharply as he abraded her nipple with his tongue.
She cried out. He pushed her back on the bed, bringing the popsicle down lower. She bucked once, but he stopped.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound, or I will stop. Do you understand?”
Her oversexed brain made her sit up and stare at him like an idiot.
“Was I not clear?” he said.
“No, you were,” she said.
“Good. That’s the last I want to hear from you,” he said, pushing her back down. He kissed her inner thigh, and she had to grip the sheets not to squirm or moan.
His tongue followed the popsicle to her belly button, to her hip bone, then down between her legs. By the time he brushed the popsicle over her clit, she was ready to scream, she wanted to cum so badly.
The popsicle disappeared. He knew her body, knew that she wanted to cum. He took his time slowly licking and sucking at her clit. She was panting, trying not to beg as he wrung every last drop of pleasure from her flesh.
He stopped for a second, and she audibly whined. He moved to retrieve the cucumber, but before she could protest, he returned to lick her clit in slow, lazy circles.
