I kissed him once through the fabric, the mix of sweat and pre-cum turning me on. Gripping his elastic waistband, my nails scratched their way down, until his shorts were pooled at his feet and the red marks would remind him that ignoring me had hurt. It hurt my feelings. It made me want to hurt him in return.
My thumbs then started at his ankles, slowly working their way up while I continued to tease him with flicks of my tongue. Denying Scott, denying me until my hands reached his precious balls and then I sucked him whole.
Devoured him. Demanded more than the soft, bleating moans.
I wanted the man from Katoomba.
I wanted the man who’d stroked my back after I’d lost and then held my hand during each of his breaks.
The man who made sure I’d never look at a chocolate the same again.
I wanted Scott. I wanted, us.
“Fuck me!”
Finally.
Scott lost control. I had no choice but to release him when he suddenly twisted, almost throwing the coffee cups onto the bench before yanking me to my feet.
I braced for a kiss that didn’t come.
My dress offered no resistance as he turned me over his bench. Pressing the small of my back until I was perfectly positioned. Legs spread, wetness oozing. All I wanted was—
“Ahh,” I cried as he ignored any foreplay. My skirt flung to the side, panties pushed to the side and his huge cock found its way home.
I’d never done this before. Come into a home uninvited, given head when my presence was unwelcomed. Being fucked raw and hard without mercy.
With each harsh thrust, I felt the tingles rise. Within seconds, the gift I’d wanted to give to Scott didn’t matter. I didn’t care about his satisfaction or what the hell would happen in five minutes or five hours.
My knees weakened and I would have crumpled to the ground if it wasn’t for Scott pinning me to the bench.
“I’m—” I called moments before I exploded. Slapping the bench with relief and giving into everything Scott. Wanting to cry. To scream. To end cradled in his arms. Willing for this feeling to never end.
I’d always been a dreamer.
Scott’s explosion came at full force. I tried not to whimper as the edge of the bench slammed into my hips, but Scott heard.
He pulled back, just enough and then left a trail of kisses from my nape to the small of my back.
He wanted this.
He just didn’t know how.
“You need to talk to me.”
“No, I don’t.”
I’d readjusted my dress before reaching for my coffee. Scott had gotten me a warm washcloth. An act of kindness before the cold set in, again.
He downed his cup in one go, made busy work by wiping imaginary smudges from his bench and fridge door before leaving the room, only to emerge wearing a shirt that smelt—divine. Of sweaty male, of him.
“But you can’t just ignore me.”
I stood my ground in the middle of the room, waiting for him to stop pacing.
“I think you just proved that point.”
“What we did, yes I wanted that, but I want you,” I pleaded. “I thought we moved past all the crap in Katoomba.”
“Only to come back to more of it.”
“I don’t understand! Yes, we need to be discrete. Ignoring me isn’t discrete.”
“I saw the way you looked at him.”
“Looked at who?” I cried, stunned he could have imagined shit.
“Him, Darius. The Greek God himself.”
“I didn’t want Darius; I don’t want anyone else—I want you.”
“Look.” Scott finally stopped pacing to stand toes to toes. A breath away from a kiss that didn’t happen. “You have a job to do and I can’t get messed up screwing either a client or a colleague.”
“I’m more than that to you, and you know it.”
“You could have been—but—”
Damn him.
He basically begged me to interrupt him. To silence him with kisses until he couldn’t resist. For long seconds, I felt him come back to me. The hunger was still there, the need to consume me as much as I craved him.
Leave while he wants you to stay.
It took all my self-control to pull away. Loving the way he groaned at his loss.
Fisting his shirt, I said, “Read the draft report, I think you will be pleasantly surprised with some of the findings.”
“When will Darius get a copy?”
“You’ve got five hours to give me any feedback before I send it to him.”
“And Mason?”
“He gets it at the same time as Darius.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you deserved to see it first.”
And because Mason had already received his copy of the second, secret report.
Scott
The bloody report wasn’t as bad as I expected. No sharp jabs or snide comments about my team. So, I read it again. This time with my third coffee in hand.
Damn the woman who refused to be predictable.
It was a good report. Everything I’d been trying to tell the sales exec, Mason and the Board had been repackaged up with a solution. Do this, and then the debt book will fall, profits will rise, and all will be great.
GG: Thoughts?
GG: Scott, talk to me. Thoughts?
GG: If there’s a problem, just tell me. If there’s an error, I’ll fix it. Thoughts?
GG: I’m running out of time to fix it before Mason starts asking questions. Thoughts?
I could almost imagine the broken or bitten nails while she waited for my answer.
I could also still feel those nails rubbing down my leg when she removed my workout shorts. And her lips around my cock. And—
Scott: Release it.
“Mr. Alexander,” Chloe called my mobile. “Mr. Winters would like to see you in his office.”
“I’m about to head out of town. Remember, working from home today and heading off tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Alexander.” Chloe was never this formal unless Mason was in a mood. “Mr. Winters would like to see you in his office.”
“I’m not dressed to see the boss. Can’t you just put me through to his phone?”
“Mr. Alexander, please.”
Call me a coward, but I could chest up to Mason, Darius, Lachlan and even Jarryd. Man-to-man. I could even chest up to Carlynn Rush when she was performing her role as high-paid consultant.
I couldn’t be a dick to Chloe, who was just doing her job.
“Tell him, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll be dressed but not showered.”
“Thanks, Scott.”
Twenty minutes was twenty minutes of wondering what the fuck.
Even if Mason had read the report, there was nothing to warrant this sort of summons.
Was Mason expecting something harsher? Was I about to get blamed for holding out on Carlynn Rush? That’d be a bunch of bullshit. My team had individually and collectively fallen in love with her and had pulled out all stops to shower her with information, advice and even sweet-talked Darius’ top geeks into giving her tech support.
My team would trade me in for Carlynn in a heartbeat.
So would half the building. I couldn’t go to any meeting within Softli without hearing about the charming Ms.Rush, and her public and repeated rejections of Darius’ attention were becoming legendary. I didn’t buy it, but it did soothe my ego.
Straight to Mason’s office? Or check in on my team?
Of course, I chose wrong.
“Mate, got a minute?”
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear at my door,” I muttered as Darius made himself at home. In my office. Thirty seconds after I’d dropped in to pick up some files with every intention of reading them before Monday morning.
“Any word from that consultant?” Darius picked up my fountain pen and started twirling it between his fingers. My pen which I only used to sign contracts. Adding insult to the
fact I’d never been able to master the whole pen over, pen through, pen falls on the ground and makes me look like an idiot maneuver.
“What do you want to know.”
“I’m getting a copy of the draft report later today. Any rumors I should know about?”
“Check out the draft.” I enjoyed the slow-motion change in Darius from confusion to shock. It took him a second to accept the report that just happened to be on top of my briefcase. A hardcopy, not just the emailed version that Mason and Darius would get.
Yes, I wanted to shout to the world, a woman had given me something that your arrogant, smug ass wanted.
“Damn me—she gave it to you first?”
“A draft to check for errors of fact before she gave you and Mason a copy.”
“Are you sure that’s all it was?” Darius flicked through, stopping at the same pages that had caught my attention. “She’s good. We can work with that.”
“I thought so.”
“What’s the story between the two of you?”
“Nothing.”
“She’s got it bad for you.”
“Why,” I snorted, “Because she knocked you back?”
“Mate, she’s not my type.”
“Then why keep asking her out.”
“Because I’m waiting for you to admit you have a thing for her and tell me to back off. It’s as plain as day how she feels about you.”
“Back off.”
“Consider me in the penalty corner. Now, are you gonna do anything about her?”
“Just back off and leave it alone. She’s made her feelings clear and you’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Scotty, Scotty, Scotty,” Darius mused, shaking his head as if I was a puppy that had peed on the mat. “I might be embarrassing myself but if you let her go, you’re the idiot.”
Still shaking his head, he tossed me the report and gently closed my door on his way out.
“Scott,” Layla buzzed. “Chloe just called again. Mason knows you’re in the building and is waiting for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
Leaving the draft report behind, I strode over to Mason’s end of the floor. Chloe refused to meet my eyes as I walked into Mason’s office as an over-worked and handsomely rewarded Chief Financial Officer.
Less than twenty minutes later, I stormed out not caring if I had a job.
Bastard.
Ungrateful, bastard.
“How much have you lost at cards this year?” Mason hadn’t even waited for me to sit down before throwing out the question.
“Enough.” My face gave my real answer, fuck you.
“How much?”
“It doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t Mason or anyone else’s business to know how much I won, lost or had left to lose.
“If you can’t answer the question, it matters.”
Mason walked over to his window. The man hated confrontation and I wasn’t about to let him grill me like a ten-year-old child caught stealing cookies. Not without a fight. Not without a bloody good explanation.
“It really doesn’t.”
“Scott. Ballpark. How much have you lost at cards this year?”
Now I got to see Mason The Charming.
Shit. The man could slice diamonds with his smile and then extract your organs with the offcuts. Deciding to back pedal, a little, I answered with a shrug, “A lot.”
“How much.”
“None of your damn business.”
“It is if it’s my money.”
What the fuck!
“Mr. Winters. If there is an accusation there, I want it in writing and a copy sent to my legal counsel.” Which I’d have to find and engage, pronto. Again, what the fuck!
“I asked you a simple question. You’re the one making it difficult by not answering. But how about I start again. When was the last time you played poker?”
“Last week.” It hadn’t been one of Jarryd’s games, but he knew I was wanting to try up some new plays. Try and test on other tables, come back to Jarryd and clean up. Jarryd pretended to believe my bullshit and I tried to think of new plays. We both knew I was avoiding GG. It was a shame I’d be rock-climbing this weekend, because defending my hobby to Mason made me crave a game.
“Did you win?”
“I held my own.” Some of the new moves worked, others didn’t.
“When was the last time you won.”
“A couple of weeks ago,” I admitted. Mason was asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. I’d lost a sweet fortune because of Darius and the girl. I’d got my shit together, recouped somef losses and was having fun trying out new stuff. Why the hell had Mason started to care now instead of when it mattered? Mason had cared enough about Darius trying to drink himself to death to pull him up. But me? Nothing.
“How much in the hole are you in over the past month?”
Again, wrong question and wrong time.
“With all due respect, none of your business.”
“Scott, my sources tell me that since that thing with Darius, you’ve been hitting the table hard and dropping some serious cash.”
“What sources?” Now I looked towards Mason’s desk, recognizing the credit reference company logo on the A4 envelope. Mason’s sources were out of date, which only pissed me off more than having my integrity questioned by a boss who didn’t give a flying fuck about me.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Bullshit.” If Mason thought I was losing my cool, it was because he couldn’t see the powder keg inside me, ready to explode. I couldn’t wait to get out of the office and get my car out of Sydney traffic and halfway to the mountains. Hell, I’d even strip out of these fucking business clothes in the lift. I’d even leave them in the lift for some poor sucker to wonder what the hell just happened to their former owner.
“Scott—”
“No, seriously, this is bullshit. You don’t have a problem having some asshole pull apart my financials, but you can’t let me do credit checks on clients. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Watch your tone. I’m still your CEO.”
I didn’t miss a beat. The markets loved and trusted me. Most tech companies went bust on big ideas and undelivered promises. I protected Mason from himself, and the market knew it.
“At my fucking discretion.”
After storming out of Mason’s office, I escaped to the solitude of the first aid room. Hardly any of the executives knew one existed on our floor. Usually I used it as a safe place to compose myself after dealing with Darius.
Never Mason.
Until today, I’d have counted Mason as one of my closest friends. Yeah, we were colleagues, and he was my boss, but I genuinely liked the dude. What wasn’t to like—when the guy decided to drop out of life for six months, he went off and built a killer app to preserve indigenous languages.
That whole line of questioning wasn’t Mason.
Commissioning a report into my finances wasn’t Mason.
I should have grabbed the bloody thing to read before storming out. Too late now.
Scott: I’m taking a week off.
For once, I didn’t bother asking.
Mason: You didn’t answer my question.
Scott: You didn’t ask whether I’ll be back.
If Mason asked a better question, he’d get a better answer.
Mason: Enjoy your week off. Breakfast on the Monday.
Fine, Mason wanted to play hard ball? Mason thought this was a grown-up version of a schoolyard argument? Well, he hadn’t grown up with hero Edison Alexander as a brother.
Scott: That wasn’t a question.
“You realize, you’re never gonna live this down?”
Haze was true to his name. His long blonde hair pulled into a hipster style bun; bright blue eyes prepared to give me shade for a thousand lifetimes.
“I can still climb.”
“Not with my crew, you can’t.”
“It’s just a dislocation.”
; “You need your thumb to climb.”
“I can still—” I tried to talk my way out of first-aid purgatory.
“No.” Haze slapped my back. Small consolation. “You can’t. You wanted to join my crew because we’re the best, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“We’re the best because we climb the crazy. We push the limits. We trust each other.”
“I know, but—”
“We climb hurt, but not injured. Go back home, find a good woman to dine or a bad woman to climb. You’re done here.”
“Looks like your luck finally ran out!” Finlay, our self-appointed team nurse and qualified paramedic tried to patch and cheer me up.
“At least I know my limits now,” I grimaced. It was only a thumb, but I knew Haze was right. Either I wouldn’t be able to keep up or I’d try to compensate and do something stupid. Still, I needed this climb.
“Haze was just being Haze. He sets a high bar.”
“I know, more frustrated at myself.”
“So, gonna stick around and watch us show you how it’s done?”
I looked at Finlay. Her small frame hid a body of steel. She could outclimb most men before mending their bodies—but not their pride. Over the last few weeks, she’d shown her interest while I’d tried to close her down, gently. Not that GG and I were a thing, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at any woman, as a woman.
“Nah,” I sighed. “Think I might head back and lick my wounds.”
Driving back to the city, my self-destruct impulse was on high alert. I needed a game. I needed to feel the thrill of going all in on an impossible hand and pulling it off. I needed to feel something other than rage for all things Softli, Mason and Carlynn-fucking-Rush.
I knew her report had something to do with Mason doing a financial check on me. No proof, but I stopped believing in coincidences about the same time I stopped believing in Santa—spoiler alert!
“Scott! How’s my favorite player?” Jarryd picked up on the third ring. “Oh, right, he’s decided to swing from a rock instead of playing my table.”
I hadn’t bothered with texts, needing to get something sorted before I got back to the city. “Nice to know I’m missed. I need a game this weekend, but out of town.”
“What are you looking for?”
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 15