VERSUS

by Deborah Bladon

  ***

  I wrap the sauce-stained blouse around me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I just asked you that same question.” He glances past me to the view of Manhattan through the window of my office.

  It’s dark, so all that awaits the eye is a sprinkling of lights from the buildings across the street.

  “You realize people can see in here, right?”

  My gaze darts over my shoulder to the window. “I’m not naked, Dylan.”

  “Close.” He exhales on a sigh. “Take off the blouse. You can wear my jacket.”

  The jacket is off his shoulders before I can protest.

  He shoves it at me, but I don’t take it.

  “Why are you here?” I repeat my question. “How did you get up here?”

  “Myron is an old friend.” He takes a measured step closer to me. “I told him you were another old friend of mine, so he let me up.”

  “I’ll never buy him another candy bar,” I mutter.

  “Sure you will,” Dylan responds with a smirk. “Take the jacket, Eden. We can wash the blouse at my place.”

  The way he so effortlessly mentions going back to his place both irritates and excites me. He’s so sure of himself.

  I can’t blame him for that.

  The man is built for sex. Everything about him screams that he’s incredible in bed.

  He is.

  My experience with him was limited, but it was still the best sexual encounter I’ve ever had.

  I shake my head to chase away thoughts of his naked body.

  Jesus, he’s breathtaking in and out of a suit.

  “You’re thinking about fucking me.”

  I spit out a laugh that sounds more like a shriek. “What? No. Why would you even say that?”

  “Your nipples.” He circles a finger in the air, pointing at my hardened nipples under the lace of my bra. “Your nipples are thinking about fucking me.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s cold in here.”

  “It’s not.” He tosses the jacket onto one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Do you want my shirt? You can wear it back to my place. I’m good with just the jacket.”

  His cufflinks are off and in the pocket of his pants.

  What is wrong with him?

  “No.” I shake my head. “I have to work. You need to leave.”

  “You’re coming with me.” He slides off his tie. “Come home with me. I’ll wash and dry your blouse. My laundry skills are impressive.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “It’s a fantastic idea.” His hands start on the buttons of his shirt. “We can share a bottle of wine. You’ll have an orgasm or three.”

  “Three?” I laugh. “You’re way too cocky.”

  The shirt slips off of him. “Too cocky? Is that a thing?”

  My eyes dart over his muscular chest and his abs. “Is what a thing?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “Put on my shirt.”

  I toss my stained blouse onto my desk before I take his dress shirt in my hand. “I’m leaving as soon as my blouse is cleaned and dried.”

  “That works.”

  Staring at him, I button his shirt up. “Why did you come here tonight?”

  “I came for a kiss.”

  My heart flutters in my chest at his admission. “You came here just to kiss me?”

  He answers me with a soft brush of his lips over mine. “I’d go anywhere just to kiss you.”

  Our kiss intensifies when his hand finds my waist. He pulls me closer to him, pressing his body to mine.

  I feel how erect he is. I hear his need in the moan that escapes him when I tug his bottom lip between my teeth.

  “It’s time to go,” he breathes the words into my mouth. “Now, Eden.”

  I don’t protest. I don’t want to. All I do want is to be back in his bed.

  Chapter 20

  Eden

  If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be standing in Dylan Colt’s apartment on Fifth Avenue wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts and my lingerie, I would have laughed in their face.

  I thought Dylan was part of my past.

  I admit that I held out hope that our paths would cross again at some point, but I gave up that fairytale dream ten years ago.

  “Your blouse and skirt are in the trusty hands of my dry cleaner.” Dylan walks into his bedroom. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, his trousers, and a smile.

  He garnered a few second glances on the walk from my office to here.

  You can’t blame anyone for staring at him. He looks like a Greek God in that suit without a shirt on.

  “When will I get them back?” I tug on the bottom of his dress shirt.

  He noticed a few drops of sauce on the front of my light blue skirt while we were riding the elevator up to his place.

  Before we reached his floor, he had his dry cleaner on the phone.

  He ordered me to drop the skirt once we were inside his apartment. After that, he took off out the door again with my sauce-stained clothes in his hand.

  “Tomorrow morning.” He rakes me with a heated glance. “You want to fuck me.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I roll my eyes. “What is it with you? Do you use that line on all the women you sleep with?”

  They’re my words, but they sting.

  I know this arrangement is temporary. Once I’m back in Buffalo, Dylan will be a fond memory of my past again.

  This time that memory will include phenomenal sex, but it will still just be a memory.

  He’ll go back to his life in this tower in the sky he lives in.

  I’ll go back to my two-bedroom condo in downtown Buffalo.

  “I’m stating the obvious.” He shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair that faces the window. “Let’s not bring up the other women I’ve been with.”

  I’m fine with that.

  Dylan’s number in high school was higher than my number to date.

  He never outright told me that he slept with seven different girls in senior year. I heard about it from my friends, or in one case, one of the girls he took to bed blurted it out during a study session.

  I stopped her from sharing any details by reminding her that she had an exam the following day that she couldn’t afford to fail.

  I bounce back to the subject of my clothes because I have no intention of spending the night.

  “Why didn’t you just throw my shirt and my skirt in your washing machine?”

  His hands fall to the leather belt at his waist. “That sauce is going to be a bitch to get out. I have talent, but it only reaches so far.”

  “You’ll just have to spend the night.”

  Pointing at his hands, I shake my head slightly. “I’ll wear this shirt home. That belt around my waist will make it look like a dress.”

  “This belt?” He slides it from his pants in one smooth motion. “What if I tell you that you can’t borrow the shirt or the belt? You won’t parade around the streets of Manhattan in a bra and a pair of panties.”

  Maybe it’s the attorney in me, but I take the statement as a challenge. I unbutton his shirt and slide it off, revealing the white lace bra and matching panties underneath. “I’ll do it.”

  His gaze is riveted to my body. “You wouldn’t. Not you.”

  I reach behind me to unclasp the bar, sliding the straps down my arms until it falls to the floor at my feet. My hands drop to my hips. “You don’t know me anymore, Dylan. You’d be surprised at some of the things I’ve done.”

  He steps out of his pants. “What have you done?”

  “Let’s not talk about the men I’ve had sex with,” I whisper. “You don’t want to hear about them, do you?”

  His right hand disappears inside his boxer briefs. I watch as he grips his erection under the fabric.

  Envy shoots through my veins. I want to touch it, kiss it, and lick it until he shudders from pleasure brought by my hands and mouth. />
  “How many?” he asks with a deep rasp in his voice.

  “Men have I fucked?” I ask back, my hands sliding over my stomach to the waistband of my panties.

  “How many men, Eden?” His gaze is transfixed. He can’t tear his eyes away from the path of my fingers as they dive under the lace.

  I moan loudly when my hand parts my folds.

  “Jesus,” he hisses loudly. “How many men have fucked that sweet cunt?”

  I close my eyes against the rush of raw need I feel. I circle my clit, bringing myself closer and closer to the edge.

  “Eden.” My name lashes off his tongue.

  I open my eyes slowly. His boxer briefs are pushed down to mid-thigh. His fist circles his thick cock.

  It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

  He pumps his cock once, and then again, drawing a bead of pre-cum to the tip.

  “Tell me,” he spits out between clenched teeth.

  I step forward, my fingertip still drawing a tight circle over my clit. Soft moans escape my lips, brought to the surface by my need to come, and the sight of Dylan’s big hand sliding over his cock.

  “Have you ever thought about me while you’re doing that?” I whisper.

  He nods, his free hand reaching to curl around my wrist. He yanks my hand from my panties, dragging it up to his lips.

  He pushes just the tips of my fingers into his mouth. His tongue brushes over them. “Christ, Eden. You’re so sweet.”

  I stare at the look on his face, wanting to imprint it on my brain forever.

  It’s there because of me.

  He wants me. He needs me.

  I tug my hand from his, slide down to my knees, and reward myself with a sweep of my tongue over the head of his cock.

  I finally get my first taste of Dylan Colt’s desire.

  Chapter 21

  Dylan

  Goddammit.

  I tangle both of my hands in Eden’s hair, twisting it at the roots.

  That lures a breathy moan from her that vibrates along the length of my dick.

  She can’t swallow it all, but I don’t give a fuck.

  This is too good. It’s so damn good that I can’t help but let out a stuttered groan when I feel the tip of her tongue lash against the underside of my crown.

  “Like that,” I manage to form two words before another heady growl pours out of me.

  I thrust into her mouth, riding the pleasure as she grips the root of my dick and pumps in perfect rhythm with the motion of her tongue.

  She licks and sucks like I’m the best thing she’s ever tasted.

  I pray that I am.

  Jesus, I wish I were the only man she’s ever had.

  I up the pace. Pure need drives my hips forward with each plunge of my cock between her lips.

  I fuck her mouth, listening to the sweet sounds she makes.

  I could come like this.

  I tug on her hair. “My turn.”

  She shakes her head, upping the pace of her strokes.

  “Stop.” I pull harder, drawing a wince from her. “Get on the bed.”

  Her hands glide up my body as she pulls herself to her feet.

  I kiss her hard with my hands cupping her cheeks. “On the bed.”

  She steps backward, her eyes glued to mine. “I wasn’t done. I want more.”

  “You’ll get more.” I eye her underwear. “Take those off, or I’ll fucking destroy them.”

  Her gaze falls to the front of her panties. “You want me that much?”

  I reach for her arms, pushing her onto the bed.

  She falls onto her back, her tits bouncing, her hair whipping around her face.

  I bracket my hands on either side of her shoulders. Staring down at her, I say what my body has been screaming since I was eighteen-years-old. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

  Lifting her head from the bed, her lips purse. I give her the kiss she so desperately wants, before I lower myself down her body and take what I want.

  ***

  I’ve never been a man prone to addiction, but her taste unravels me.

  I lick and suck on her beautiful cunt, luring sounds from her that shoot straight to my aching cock.

  I’ve never come from the taste of a woman, but this is different.

  I’m pulsing in need.

  I feel another drop of pre-cum when my dick brushes against my inner thigh.

  I tongue her deeper, pushing her thighs apart as my fingers sweep over the swollen nub of her clit.

  Everything about her is perfect. She’s made for me.

  “Dylan.” My name comes out in a whisper. “I’m going to…”

  “I know,” I growl before I lash my tongue against her clit.

  She crashes over the edge in a pulsating orgasm.

  I slide two fingers into her pussy so I can feel her come. It’s so tight, so smooth, and so fucking good.

  I suck in a deep breath, willing myself to control the desperation I feel until I’m inside of her.

  I move slowly, trailing kisses over her soft skin as I make my way up her body.

  I stop when I reach her breasts, circling each of her hardened nipples with my tongue. “Your nipples are sensitive, aren’t they?”

  She glances down at me. A sated look floats over her expression. “So sensitive.”

  I bite the right one before I give the same attention to the left.

  She whines through it all. “Dylan, stop.”

  “You don’t want me to stop,” I say before I plant a soft kiss on her lips. “You want me to fuck you.”

  Her eyes scan my face. “You’re really handsome.”

  A smile tugs on the corners of my mouth. “You’re gorgeous, Eden.”

  “Did you think that back…”

  I halt her words with a deep kiss. When I pull back, I stare into her piercing blue eyes. “I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman on this earth.”

  Her bottom lip trembles. “I want you.”

  I want to hold her, protect her, and shield her from everything wrong in this world.

  Her gaze darts to the box of condoms on my nightstand. “Now, Dylan.”

  I steal one last look at her face before I move to stand.

  Sheathing my cock with a shaking hand, I draw in enough air to fill my lungs even though I still feel like I can’t catch my breath.

  I crawl over her slowly, savoring the anticipation, soaking in her beauty.

  Once I’m on top, I glide the tip of my dick over her core. “You’re slick. So wet.”

  Her tongue darts out over her bottom lip. “Kiss me.”

  I do. I press my mouth to hers just as I slide my cock into her tight cunt.

  I fuck her slowly and gently until she begs for more. Then I flip her over and take her the way she wants with long, powerful thrusts.

  Chapter 22

  Dylan

  “Mr. Colt? Sir?”

  There’s no way in hell that this is happening again.

  My hand runs over the sheet beside me. I come up empty.

  “Dammit,” I mutter. “Where’s Eden?”

  “Eden?” Gunner’s voice ticks up an octave. “Are you talking about Eden Conrad?”

  I force one of my eyes open. Sunlight is pouring in the room. My assistant is dressed in his usual garb even though today is Saturday.

  Wait a goddamn minute. It’s Saturday.

  “Why are you here?” I wave a hand in his general direction. “Shouldn’t you be at home annoying the hell out of someone else?”

  “Is Eden Conrad your girlfriend?” he presses on. “She’s representing Mr. Alcester. She called the office to leave a message. I never forget a name, especially one as nice as Eden.”

  I manage to open both eyes. “Go home.”

  “We had plans this morning, sir.” His tone edges on frustration. “It’s important.”

  It can’t be as important as Eden.

  I ate her to another orgasm last night a
fter we fucked. I couldn’t resist.

  She fell asleep in my arms afterward. I thought it was a guarantee that she’d be here this morning since her clothes are still at the dry cleaners.

  I had visions of breakfast in bed, sex in the shower, and then I’d run to grab her shirt and skirt sometime this afternoon.

  I scrub my hand over my face. “What plans?”

  “Brunch with Mrs. Jenkinson.” He scribbles his hand in the air. “She’s ready to sign on the dotted line with a retainer check in hand.”

  I remember now.

  I did set that up. I’ll do business every day of the week, any hour of the day.

  Boundaries don’t fit into my business model. Extra hourly fees for weekend meetings do.

  “I don’t need you to hold my hand through this.” I shoot Gunner a look. “I can handle it.”

  “She requested that I be there.”

  I swear to God he blushes at that admission.

  Martha Jenkinson is more than double his age, but if she floats his boat and they play safe, who am I to judge?

  “I’ll handle the paperwork. You’ll take over after that.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, taking care to keep my dick covered. “I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.”

  His gaze drops to his watch. “Eighteen would be optimum. Mrs. Jenkinson requested brunch at Axel Tribeca at eleven. It’s the restaurant inside the Bishop Hotel.”

  Eleven?

  I point at his watch. “What the hell time is it?”

  “Ten-fifteen on the dot,” he says proudly. “We’ll make it with time to spare.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”

  “It does a body good.” Gunner offers words of wisdom that I’m guessing he lifted from a billboard in Times Square or an ad he saw online. “It’s nice to see you enjoying life outside the office.”

  I’d enjoy it more if I knew when Eden left and why she took off without her clothes.

  ***

  Exiting Axel Tribeca, I pull my phone out of the pocket of my suit jacket.

  I silenced it before the meeting with Martha Jenkinson.