by Eve Black
Finally, Mr. Ayers looked up from his screen and pinned her with those unreadable eyes of his.
“Miss Bluth,” he drawled, leaning forward to grab a packet of papers from the edge of the desk. He held them up. “These are the depositions in the Mason v. August case. I need you to go through them with a fine-toothed comb.” He stopped, looked at his expensive black gold watch, and continued, “I know it’ll probably be late by the time you’re done…”
She nodded. It was already after one o’clock, and if the thickness of the stack he handed her was any indication, it would take hours to go through the first set. By the time she finished all of them, she’d be leaving the city, taking the ninety-minute drive into Edison, and then crashing into her bed fully clothed—if she didn’t crash on the way home from falling asleep behind the wheel.
Her worry must’ve shown on her face because Mr. Ayers narrowed his eyes, sighing.
“I know it’ll be late, Miss Bluth. So, here’s what I’ll offer you.” He leaned back, not breaking eye contact. “Reserve yourself a room at the Incantata. Stay the night, and you can go home, fully-rested, in the morning. Use the company account there.”
She gasped. The Serata Incantata was a five-star boutique hotel in the heart of Manhattan. It was the it place for celebrities looking for an over-the-top elegant and yet quiet stay. She’d been there a few times, but only for company banquets. So, to actually stay in one of the $800 per night rooms…
“Mr. Ayers, I can’t ask you to do that.” It was too expensive! She’d just drive home very, very slowly, blasting classic Prince songs to get keep herself awake.
Mr. Ayers shook his head. “I’m not doing it, you are. And, besides, I think you’ve earned it after all the late nights I’ve required of you over the last several months.”
Diana sighed, her will to argue dying slowly. Late nights, eyeballs burning from all the staring at documents and computer screens, and all the nights she’d missed with her mother and sister because she was stuck at the office.
“You’re right,” she agreed, nodding, a smile creeping over her face.
He waved off her expression. “It is settled, then.” He glanced at the stack of papers he’d given her. “Get started, and once you’re done for the evening, you get a night’s stay in a luxury hotel on the company’s dime.”
Dime? More like a stack of Benjamins.
What could she say? Her boss was asking her for another late night, and in return she would get a free night at the hotel she’d only ever dreamt of staying in.
Hell, yes!
She nearly saluted before answering. “Sounds good, Mr. Ayers.” It sounded fucking amazing, actually.
In response, he snapped a quick nod. She turned to leave his office, packet of papers in hand, but his stern voice made her stop.
“Oh, and Miss Bluth. I suggest you purchase blouses that fit before you return to the office on Monday.”
Heat blasted up her neck and into her scalp, no doubt covering her face in a deep pink blush.
“I will, sir,” she replied, quickly killing the idea to explain her blouse situation. He didn’t care. She sped off toward her office, fighting the urge to burn the damn blouse the first chance she got.
Chapter 4
David checked the time on his watch and waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. The elevator smelled of peaches; sweet, but not cloying, fresh, delicious, subtle.
She smelled of peaches, too. And she was just as lushly colored as a peach…and plump in form. A perfectly juicy mouthful. She’d stepped from the elevator, distracted, laughing that sultry, husky laugh, and collided with him. He was an agile man, he could have stepped out of the way…if he’d wanted to. But something insidious made him stay his course, and he was rewarded for it. He could still remember the feel of her large breasts pressing into his chest, the experience tantalizing enough to make his shaft thicken just a bit. It had only been a moment, but it had been long enough for the vision of delectable womanhood to imprint itself on his cock. He’d barely pulled his eyes from the display of creamy flesh, peeking out from the gaps in her much-too-small blouse. Her pink lace bra, which he could see through the thin fabric, hid most of the cleavage, but left a tantalizing tease of—
Hell! What was he thinking? And why had he noticed her at all? Because she had incredibly nice tits.
Shit.
She was probably the girlfriend or wife of one of the men in the practice, which made her off-limits. And why he was thinking of her anyway, he had no idea. Certainly, she was pretty enough, with long blonde hair that looked like ribbons of silk, eyes of emerald green that glimmered as she’d stared up at him, and skin so pale it looked to be as creamy as milk, but she wasn’t his type—not that he had time to think about types. He was much too busy for anything other than a quick fucking on his own time. Which was dwindling as of late.
Thanks to Rinna. His ex-fiancée. The woman he’d been fooled into giving his ring to. The woman who cheated on him in their bed with any number of men. The woman who dared to drag his name through the mud now that her money train had derailed.
Fuck. He had to focus on getting the bitch out of his life and his wallet.
If Rick could bury Rinna up to her neck in litigation and slander suits, he would be worth every dime of his multi-million dollar fees, and David would owe him big time.
Striding through the lobby, he headed out into the surprising afternoon heat. New York in April was wet and still shaking off the cold of winter; it almost made him miss England. Almost. Thankfully, his hired driver was waiting, the door of the black Escalade held open. He slid onto the crème-colored leather seat and nodded at the driver, Rodney.
Once the car was moving through the heavy traffic along Lexington Avenue, he laid his head back against the rest and closed his eyes. Immediately, an image of rounded cheeks, flushed pink, and bright green eyes infiltrated his mind. Plump, pink lips, slightly open, daring for the intrusion of his tongue, creamy skin on a neck begging for his mark. Tapered waist accenting wide hips…perfect for holding on to when pounding into her from behind.
Again, his cock wanted in on the action, pressing against his zipper, no doubt leaving an impression along his considerable length.
Damn! How long had it been since he’d fucked someone? Thinking back, he realized it had to have been that urology nurse three months ago, the one with the eager mouth and those two dimples right above her shapely ass. Oh yeah, he remembered that ass, and what he’d done to it. He’d met her while visiting his doctor, and her smile and curves had promised him a good time. At that point, he’d been without for nearly a month, having no desire to hook up with random women who were connected in any way to Rinna. The nurse had been good, but it wasn’t anything that demanded a repeat. He hadn’t wanted repeats with anyone since Rinna, and he was thankful for that. If he only had them once, there wasn’t the risk of them getting attached to him or his money. Which meant he could roll out of bed, brush them off, and be on his way with little to no fuss. He preferred it, and they knew going in that it was just one night. If that made him an ass, then so be it. He had no desire to be any woman’s “potential for more.” He’d tried that. It failed. End of bloody story.
Hell…his last one night was long enough ago that his cock was close to forgetting what pussy felt like. And that was a down right tragedy.
As Rodney pulled the Escalade under the canopy of the hotel Serata Incantata, David recalled what Rick had said earlier, “Enjoy your last night in New York…”
He quirked a smile. Oh, he’d enjoy it, and he knew exactly how. There was nothing he enjoyed more than sex. Anonymous sex with a beautiful woman.
After working a few hours and enjoying a delicious solo dinner in his room, he called his assistant, Derrick, giving the man the rest of the night off. He’d have plenty to deal with in the morning before their flight to Shanghai and, for what he had planned, David wouldn’t need the man’s assistance. Dressing in a pair of black slacks that m
olded to his leanly muscled thighs, and a tight black shirt that showed his chest and abs to perfection, he drew a tailored navy coat on over his broad shoulders. He knew how good he looked, how fuckable. He’d spent most of his life swimming, biking, rowing—keeping his body in top shape. He was used to the hungry stares and appreciative smiles, and he wasn’t ashamed of using that attraction to get what he wanted. It was easy for him to get whatever woman he wanted; he’d crook a finger, put on his most devastating smile, and drawl in his panty-melting accent. Bam! She was sucking his cock not long after that. And tonight, he just wanted to find pleasure between the thighs of a beautiful woman—the cock sucking would be an added bonus.
Too bad she won’t be there. Miss Peaches n’ Cream. Slamming that thought into the back of his mental locker, he checked the time on his Vacheron Constantin watch. It was going on 10PM, and since it was a Friday night, he knew there’d be a bevy of ladies lounging at one of the two hotel bars. The one he was interested in was the Bella Notte, the less elegant of the two bars. It was open to non-guests, which meant it would be swarming with sexy women, dressed in their best, looking to hook up with men who could afford the pricey bar drinks.
A hook up. That’s what he needed. Quick, filthy, and forgettable. He’d charm a lady, buy her a drink, engage her in easy conversation—no names, of course, and then he’d invite her up to his room. She’d know the score, she’d know it was just one night of pleasure. He would make it clear. He had to. He was already dealing with one mistake he’d fucked, he wasn’t going to allow another one.
His room, though it was the penthouse, was not on the top floor. The top floor belonged to the hotel owner, Bello DiCezzo, who was the son of the original owner who’d built the property back before Manhattan became the American hub of the nouveau riche. The hotel was considered old world elegance with its European architecture, dark wood furniture, hand painted plaster ceilings, and thick carpets—not to mention the crystal chandeliers, brass sconces, and richly upholstered benches, couches, and chairs. And because the building and business passed from generation to generation, it would remain a top property for years to come. David knew most of what there was to know about the Serata Incantata and the DiCezzo family because he made it his business to know. He hadn’t made it to the top of the tech industry because he landed a few lucky deals. No…he was tapped in, his mind constantly seeking input, knowledge, inside information, data. His assistant, Derrick, once joked that David required terabytes of storage space in his brain, and David couldn’t argue with that.
Stepping into the elevator, he caught his reflection in the smooth brass façade as the elevator doors silently slid shut. His familiar eyes blinked back at him, his familiar lips quirked into a predatory smile. Everything about his face was familiar…except for the lines between his brows. Those were new, compliments of Rinna, her lawyers, and his upcoming travel schedule—thirteen nights, eight cities, endless meetings...
No. I refuse to think those thoughts tonight. He needed to let go for one night, to allow himself a few hours of anonymity, of simply being a man. Tonight, he would not be a billionaire bachelor businessman. Tonight, he was simply a single man, looking for a single woman for a single night of hot fucking.
Sighing, he pushed the button for the lobby where the Bella Notte was located off the main lobby. As the elevator descended, he sucked in a breath, his body humming with anticipation of the night ahead.
The breath caught in his chest.
Peaches. The elevator smelled of peaches. An involuntary grunt escaped his throat as his thoughts rushed headlong to another elevator in another building, and a woman who’d caught his attention for longer than he liked to admit. But now…he wondered what Miss Peaches n’ Cream was doing. He doubted Rick Ayers would know who the woman was; the man was a stickler for propriety and professionalism, especially in the work place. That woman flaunted her assets boldly. David recalled how the buttons on her top were struggling to hold her shirt together, not that he hadn’t enjoyed the quick view of what she was barely hiding. So, not an employee. Was she in the building meeting with her boyfriend or husband? Had her lover taken her into an empty office, released those lush breasts from her much-too-small blouse and then suckled them until she moaned? Had he pulled up her curve-hugging skirt and drawn her moist panties to the side to slide his eager fingers along the lips of her pussy? Had he moaned at the wet welcome he received? Had he bent her over a desk, unzipped his slacks, and thrust his aching cock into her tight, hot, slick sheath? Had he pounded into her hard and fast, watching her tits bounce and shake with each forceful thrust, building to a release that would make them both cry out in explosive pleasure?
Fuuuuck! His cock throbbed, his thoughts much too vivid and tormenting. He glanced down at the tent in his slacks—damn. Just what he needed when he was leaving the elevator to hunt for a woman to enjoy for the evening. At least the ache created by his own fantasies would be taken care of in short order—the quicker the better. He removed his navy coat and folded it over his forearm, bringing his arm in front of his waist to shield his unwelcome erection from curious eyes.
Taking another deep breath, he cursed. His nostrils filling with the scent of peaches once more, he closed his eyes, willing his mind to think on things like skinned knees, haggis, and cleaning out the lint trap in his dryer. And just as the elevator dinged to announce its arrival in the lobby, he drew himself to his full six-foot-two height, preparing himself to capture his evening’s delight.
The elevator doors slid open and he glanced up, his eyes, no doubt, playing tricks on him. They had to be—there was no other explanation for the sight that greeted him.
She was there, Miss Peaches n’ Cream, walking across the lobby and straight through the doorway into Bella Notte.
A wicked grin spread over his face, and his tongue flicked out over his lips. Suddenly, he was very hungry for peach pie.
Chapter 5
Diana slid onto the bar stool, her pencil skirt making the task a little more difficult than she’d expected. Hooking her heels into the bottom rung, she finished pushing herself into a comfortable position just as the bartender appeared before her. She huffed out a breath and tucked errant strands of hair behind her ears. It was the end of the workday; typically, she would have pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun, but she’d left her hair ties in her desk at the office. So, she was stuck with it as it was—and she probably looked terrible. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar and fought the urge to grimace. It had been a long day, her hair was a mess, probably from thoughtlessly tugging at it as she worked through all those damn documents. Unfortunately, she also hadn’t taken her brush with her to work that day, so she couldn’t very well make herself look less like a bag lady before she’d come downstairs to the bar.
Yeah, sure, she could have ordered something to the room, but she’d never had the chance to be a guest in the bar before. All the other times she’d been to the Incantata, she’d been rushing around, helping the catering staff keep up with the other employees’ demands for free booze. It seemed like, even when she wasn’t supposed to be working, she was working. That’s the type of woman she was—a helper. She got it from her mother, who had spent her life teaching other people’s children. She was and would always be Diana’s hero.
“Bar menu, please,” she requested with a slight smile. After the day she’d had, she could use a few drinks on Ayers’s tab. The documents she’d hunched over for the last eight hours had turned her brain into astringent mush and now all she wanted to do was sink into an alcohol-induced haze before heading back upstairs to her room and into the large comfortable looking bed. She might even order one or two of the new rom-coms on that huge flat screen TV tucked into the gorgeous mahogany armoire in her room, right beside the doorway leading to the huge white marble bathroom, with the huge tub, shower, and lots of fluffy white towels. Hmmm. Maybe she’d take a long bath before climbing into bed.
Glancing over the menu th
e bartender handed her, she decided on a vodka cocktail with a lemon-lime twist. As the efficient barman turned to mix her drink, she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, willing the stress of the day to float away.
But the sensation of floating was not what slid over her, prickling along her skin. Tension rocketed through her, a hot tingling that made her neck heat and her body thrum. She shuddered, her nipples hardening with a sharp yet delicious ache.
She snapped her eyes open, immediately spotting him striding toward her, a predatory gleam in his striking eyes. His long legs flexed wonderfully beneath the material of his pants, and with each swing of his arms, his chest and torso moved, the muscles rippling.
Hesitantly, she turned her head, scanning the bar area behind her for whoever he was looking at, because it couldn’t be her.
Daaaaamn. She swallowed the lump of lust forming in her throat, and flicked her gaze away from him, praying he wouldn’t notice the blush that, no doubt, was brightening her face.
He stopped just beside the stool where she was sitting and leaned against the bar top, sucking all the air from the room. A slow, cock-eyed smile quirked his lips, drawing one side up into a wolfish grin that made her panties catch fire. And his eyes…like two blades of flame, stared down at her, a look she’d never seen before spreading across his beautiful face. His chiseled chin, his sharp cheekbones, the hint of midnight black scruff highlighting his jaw… He was yumminess wrapped in designer clothes and smelling of rich leather, with hints of mint and goddamn sex.
