by Mari Carr
She reached around him and lightly gripped his cock. After her firm touches and painful blows, her stroke was disappointing, not enough.
“Harder.”
She placed a soft kiss on his upper back. “No.”
“Dammit Frankie. You’ve had your fun, but—”
She removed her hand from his cock completely. “Bad boy. Don’t move. Not a muscle.” She walked away and he fought the urge to look behind him, to see what she was doing.
He heard her rifling through his desk and his curiosity piqued. “Looking for something?”
She returned and took her place directly behind him once more. He was beginning to feel like a fool, chained in a doorway, bent at an odd angle, his bare ass sticking out. God help him if Brian decided to walk in.
Something cold touched his ass and he knew what she’d grabbed. For a moment, his cock actually wavered.
“No,” he said.
She ignored him, her finger continuing to delve deeper into his ass.
“Frankie. I mean it.”
She stopped for a moment, but she didn’t remove her finger. “Sixty seconds.”
“What?”
She started to push deeper once more. “Give me sixty seconds. Count out loud. If you still want me to stop by the time you hit sixty, I will.”
He swallowed heavily. Even a minute seemed too long, but as she plunged deeper, he had to admit he felt an odd stirring low in his gut. His cock had resurged, harder than it had been since they’d started this liaison.
“One, two,” he began.
She pushed more firmly, her entire finger engulfed in his ass. It was only when she was fully seated that he realized her fingernail wasn’t cutting him.
“Nails?” he asked, interrupting his count.
“I cut two of them off in the bathroom earlier. You didn’t notice?”
He been so focused on her outfit, her face, the incredible things she was doing to his body, he’d failed to notice her hands. Then another fact came home to rest. “Two?”
She laughed softly, the sound wholly feminine and sexy. Her finger withdrew, returning faster than her previous journey in.
He gasped and resumed his count. “Fifteen, sixteen.”
She began to thrust inside his ass, shallowly at first and then deeper, harder. He felt himself anticipating her return trips, pushing back to capture more of her finger. He’d forgotten all about the count until she increased the pressure and added another finger to the first.
“Fuck,” he said between gritted teeth. The tight pinching was almost more than he could bear. “Thirty.”
She reached around his waist and grasped his cock once more. This time her grip was firm, controlled. She rubbed his cock in time with the fingers fucking his ass and he lost all grasp on reality. She trapped him in her erotic web, wrapped him in silk bindings and he was now her willing victim. He was on the verge of coming when she surprised him by withdrawing from his ass.
“No.” Her fingers pressed hard against the base of his balls. He trembled, struggling to hold back his come. Why he was obeying her when all he wanted was to erupt, drawing a new pattern on the carpeting in her office, was beyond him. All he knew was he had to stop.
She took her hands away from him, stopped touching him completely. He hung limply from his chains, his body exhausted from the effort of holding back.
“Please,” he whispered, the sound of his voice pleading. He never begged, but in this moment, he was willing to go on his knees before her. He’d offer her the world on a silver platter for the right to come.
She walked around him. Stood before him. Her face was blissful, happier than he’d ever seen it. For a moment, he thought she might lean forward and kiss him. Instead, she lowered the zipper on her catsuit, her breasts threatening to fall out of the outfit at any moment, giving him the perfect view of heaven, and then she went to her knees.
His legs went weak at the image of her kneeling before him.
“I want you to come in my mouth.” Her command issued, she took his cock in hand, drawing it to her lips. She engulfed him, one slow inch at a time, until he felt the back of her throat. Then, she released the wild woman inside and gave him the greatest blowjob in the history of giving head. She took him in roughly, deeply.
He fought to hold on, fought to restrain his body’s natural impulses. Her mouth was heaven and he wasn’t willing to leave it so soon. She was offering him a precious, beautiful gift and he never wanted it to end. His arms shook, the chain rattling above his head, as he struggled not to come.
Just a few seconds more.
Just a second.
One last thrust in her hot, wet mouth and he felt his tenuous grip on control break.
“God, Frankie,” he yelled as he started to come. It felt as if she was sucking every drop of come out of his body, taking it all until he began to go lightheaded. He’d never come so hard or so long. In the aftermath, she held him in her mouth as his cock went soft.
Rising slowly, she unlocked the manacles and held him as he slowly went to his knees. She’d killed him with pleasure. Taken complete control of his body, his mind. Possessed him in a way no one ever had before and, as he looked up at her beautiful face, he knew no one ever would again.
She’d just claimed the part of him he’d never relinquished to another woman. His heart. And for the first time in his life, he felt complete.
Chapter Six
Reed cursed as he looked at the blank screen in front of him. He’d been struggling for over a week to create an ad campaign for Wedded Bliss. The presentation was in two days and he had nothing. He told himself his mental block was due to the fact he knew practically nothing about the institution of marriage, but he wondered if subconsciously he wasn’t throwing the game.
After collecting on her bet ten days, eight hours, and—Reed glanced at his watch—twenty-two minutes ago, Frankie had gone directly back to colleague, friend, ice-queen mode. Ordinarily he would have been thrilled to find a woman like her. One who didn’t pressure for more than he was willing to give. One who enjoyed sex without messy attachments.
He didn’t want that from her.
He was in love with her. Jesus, head over heels in love with her.
A light knock at the door startled him from his uncomfortable revelation. “Come in.”
Frankie stood beneath the frame of their connecting door. “Got a minute?”
For her, he had a lifetime, but he didn’t say that aloud. He merely nodded.
She walked in and took her usual seat in front of his desk. She sat down wearily.
“Problem?”
She sighed. “It’s about my Wedded Bliss campaign.”
Reed leaned back in his chair. He was about ten seconds away from conceding the damn contest on this bid now. There was no way he was going to be able to come up with something between now and Friday. Better to throw in the towel and help Frankie polish up her proposal. “What about it?”
“I don’t have one.”
He sat up. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”
She shrugged. “I’ve tried for days to catch a spark, find an angle. I can’t.”
“Shit.”
She frowned, leaning forward to put her elbows on her legs. “I thought you’d be happy. Thought you’d gloat a bit. I’m out on this campaign. You win.”
He shook his head sadly. “Frankie—”
She cut him off with a quick wave. “I was just hoping you could wait a day or two before collecting on the bet.”
Her words took him unaware. She looked fragile suddenly, almost afraid. Of him? He’d never hurt her, never force her to do something she didn’t enjoy. “Why?”
She clasped her hands together and looked down. It was the only time he’d ever seen any sign of weakness in her. He didn’t like the look.
“I just need a couple of days.”
“For what?”
Her temper broke and she stood, her feisty fighting spirit emerging. “Goddammit,
Reed. I’m not a fucking robot. I can’t put these damn wagers of ours away as easily as you can. I’ve tried, really tried, to make it be just sex, but—”
He stood slowly. She was hurting too. It was the first chink he’d ever seen in her armor. The first time she’d ever given him hope for a future.
“The wager is draw.”
She stopped pacing in front of his desk and looked at him. “A draw?”
“I don’t have anything either.”
She ran a hand through her hair, tucking a stray strand back into her ponytail. His fingers itched to rip out the band constraining her lovely mass of hair. He wanted to see it loose again. “Well, that’s not good.”
He chuckled, though the sound betrayed no humor. “Yep, it would appear we’re up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle.”
“What the hell are we going to do? We have to make a presentation to the Wedded Bliss people in two days. Brian will shit a brick if we tell him we don’t have anything.”
Reed turned slowly and looked out his office window at the hustle and bustle of the street below. While he knew he should be worried about the client, he couldn’t summon the energy. His mind was too fixated on Frankie’s earlier comments. She was hurting just like he was.
Then, it came to him.
“We’ll work together.”
She stood before his desk and through her reflected image in the glass he could see he’d gotten her attention.
He turned to look at her, a wickedly wonderful idea forming in his mind. “We’ll put the Wedded Bliss presentation together as a team. We’ll start now. Order in food for the next two days. Take turns sleeping on my couch. It’s the only way.”
She nodded, clearly understanding exactly how far behind they were. “Okay. That’s a good plan. Surely between the two of us, we can—”
“If we land the bid, we share the wager.”
She shook her head. “No. No more wagers.”
“The game’s not over, Frankie. You shook on the deal.” He was a bastard to push this, but he couldn’t let her go yet. He just couldn’t.
“We shook on a competition. We’re collaborating now.”
“We’re still competing. Only this time, it won’t be against each other, but against The Wilkerson Team and three other firms. The competition is stiff on this one. The wager stands.”
“Stands how?”
He could see she was equal parts distrustful and intrigued. Though she’d given him a brief glimpse at the vulnerable woman inside, he could tell she’d tucked her away once more. Sexy, self-assured Frankie was making a comeback. “We share the fantasy. Name one fantasy—anything you want—and I’ll give it to you.”
“A threesome.”
Her quick answer sent his brain into a tailspin and he studied her face to see if her response was the truth or merely a way to pick at him. As always, she gave him nothing. “So should I round up another man or another woman?”
She smiled. “I don’t share with other women.”
“But I’m supposed to share you with another guy?”
She shrugged. “Why not? I don’t belong to you.”
He wanted to refute that fact, but there was nothing he could say that she would listen to and suddenly he understood her request. She thought by pushing him into a ménage, she’d be able to keep the wall between them high, impenetrable. “Fine.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Fine?”
“I’ll find another man to join us in this next fantasy.”
She raised her hand. “This last fantasy. After this, no more games.”
He readily agreed. It was time he stopped fucking around, stopped pretending. The moment their last fantasy was realized, he was going to turn his attention to seriously wooing Ms. Frankie Carlyle. She wouldn’t know what hit her. The idea actually made him smile. “No more games.”
“Fine, then I suggest we get started on the campaign or our wager won’t—”
“Don’t you want to know what my fantasy will be if we win?”
She took in a sharp breath and he could see she’d forgotten that detail. “Sure.” She dragged out the word, proving she really didn’t want to know at all.
“Exhibitionism.”
“I don’t understand.”
He walked around the desk, watched as she fought to hold her ground. She was definitely going to take him on a merry chase. He couldn’t wait to begin. “There’s going to be an audience the next time we have sex.”
“Oh.” He watched her process his demand. If he’d expected her to refuse, run screaming from the room, once again he was disappointed. The woman was indomitable. She gave him a small smile. “That could be fun.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to admit this fantasy didn’t exist until our rendezvous in the alleyway.”
She laughed. “What happened there?”
“It dawned on me as I was thrusting into that hot body of yours that I didn’t care if the world walked by and caught us in the act. In fact, I was sort of hoping someone would happen upon us.”
“You do realize what’s driving this, don’t you?” Her words were playful and he suspected her next comment would be a jab.
Even so, he grinned and egged her on. “No. What?”
“It’s your overweening ego. You think you’re a stud of a lover and you want to show off. Plain and simple.”
He took a step closer, grasping her quickly with two hands on her waist before she could retreat. He pulled her closer, pushing the erection she constantly inspired into her stomach. “Sweetheart, you seem determined to insinuate that I’m not a good lover when you know the truth.”
She laughed. “I didn’t say you weren’t…” she paused, then chose a word sure to annoy him, “…okay.”
“Looks like I’ve been dropping the ball. If we’re going to put on a show for people, maybe I should brush up on my game. Practice a bit.”
His gaze dropped to her suddenly turgid nipples and he gave her a devilish grin. “Take off that shirt.”
She shook her head, pushing out of his grip. He let her go, simply because her earlier comments were still playing in his head. He was worried about her. While he’d resigned himself to the fact he was in love with her, he knew Frankie wouldn’t concede defeat on that emotion easily. Throughout the past few weeks, he’d gotten to know her better and he’d sensed a small wounded part inside her that seemed determined to hold the world at arm’s length. He’d tried to dig for an answer, tried to figure out what it was that was scaring her so, but he’d had no luck uncovering the truth. He could only assume she’d loved and lost before.
“No. We are already in a world of hurt on this campaign and we don’t have time for sex.”
He glanced at his watch and knew she was speaking the truth. “Dammit. Much as it pains me to admit this, you’re right.”
She ran her hand along his rough jaw, his five o’clock shadow making its daily appearance. “You’re a very hard man to resist sometimes.”
He smiled. “Working so closely to you for hours on end and not touching you? It’s gonna be tough.”
She nodded and he could see in her face she agreed. She looked at him for a moment and he sensed she was fighting an internal battle with herself. “Fuck it,” she muttered.
“What?”
“How about I set up a reward system?”
He leaned back on his desk, not bothering to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. Frankie had apparently gotten used to it. It also looked like she’d decided she was tired of fighting their attraction. “I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?”
“You’ve heard of strip poker. I was thinking we could adapt it. For every hour of work on this project, we take turns removing a piece of clothing.”
He nodded. “I like your idea of incentive.”
She held up a finger to ward him off when he took a step closer. “The game only continues until nine tomorrow morning when the other employees come in. At that point, my clothes
go back on. Then tomorrow night, we’ll disrobe where we left off and start again.”
“Solid plan. I like it.”
“Oh and we’re just undressing. Nothing else.”
He shook his head. “No deal. With each piece of clothing that comes off, we have five minutes to enjoy the newly uncovered body part. We’ll call it a work break.”
She considered his addendum and then nodded. “Okay. You’re on. Five minutes.”
They moved around his desk together as he opened up a file and the first hour passed in the blink of an eye as they bounced around ideas. Reed was impressed by Frankie’s creativity and energy. Though the workday had wrapped up for everyone else in their company, she’d gotten a second wind that was pulling him along for the ride.
He didn’t realize working with a partner, an equal, could be so invigorating. She fired him up and, for the first time in a long time, he remembered why he was doing this job. He’d always loved the art of the deal, creating campaigns, planning marketing strategies. All of those things were like crossword puzzles to him. He also loved The Donovan Group, loved this company and his uncle. He had a vested interest in its successes and failures, simply because it felt like home to him. Watching Frankie work on an angle, sketching out designs for artwork, proved how smart Brian had been in hiring her. He’d been a fool to try to sabotage her, an idiot not to form this working partnership from the beginning.
“First hour’s up,” she said, stirring him from his thoughts. “Looks like we need the break. You’ve been lollygagging in la-la land for the last ten minutes. I’m not sharing any fantasy with you if I do all the work on this bid.”
There had been very few people in his life who’d ever felt confident or comfortable enough to give him shit about anything—his uncle, Carter, and now Frankie made up that short list.
“Um, excuse me, but who was the person who came up with the idea of using photographs for the artwork, mimicking the look of a wedding album? We were stuck until I suggested that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d hardly consider that an earth-shattering epiphany, but who am I to split hairs? I’ll even take one for the team and lose the first item of clothing.”
