Dirty Deal

by Crystal Kaswell

"You're a waitress. He's loaded. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's got meal ticket written on his forehead."

  "It isn't like that. I love Blake." God, this is a terrible confession of passion. I force a smile. I think of the things that make my heart race. The accident. The skyline against the sunset. The spring's first flowers. "He… he's not like anyone I've ever met. He makes me feel safe. He makes my knees weak. He's…"

  She snaps her purse shut. "I hope you are telling the truth. For your sake. Because if you're not… you're going to regret using him. I'll make sure of it."

  "I appreciate that you're looking out for him." Really, it's sweet. Even if it's at my expense. "I hope you enjoy your night." I drop my lipstick in my purse and I saunter out of the bathroom.

  Conversation whirls around me. It's loud.

  Everyone is looking at me the same way Fiona was.

  What's he doing with her?

  And what's she doing with him?

  Someone that young—she's looking for a meal ticket? Just look at her dress.

  You think she's a hooker?

  Okay, I'm imagining things. I think.

  It's funny. I never thought people would be looking at me thinking I was too pretty to be with someone.

  It's almost nice.

  But Blake isn't after my looks.

  He's after my—

  No, he's not after anything.

  This is all bullshit.

  I find a waiter and grab another flute of champagne. The bubbles burst on my tongue. They lift me higher. They make the room effervescent.

  Now where is my adoring boyfriend?

  He's not in the corner where he was earlier. Neither is Meryl.

  I wander around the party, looking for him. But I don't see him anywhere.

  Oh. There's a quiet balcony up ahead. That's perfect.

  Someone steps into my path. Declan, Blake's old friend.

  "Hey, Kat. Blake is about to give his speech."

  "I'm just going to get some air," I say.

  He pats my shoulder. "Nonsense." He leans in close and whispers, "I have it on good authority that he mentions you in it."

  Oh.

  We're moving up the timeline.

  That must mean…

  I swallow hard. "Of course."

  I follow him into the main room. Grab another glass of champagne and drink quickly.

  This is too fast.

  I'm not ready to be a fiancée.

  Declan pats me on the back. He nods to a small stage. Blake is standing there. He's holding up his own glass of champagne like he's about to give a toast.

  He scans the crowd. His eyes rest on mine. They fill up with love.

  Like this is real.

  His smile spreads over his cheeks.

  That's how I know it's fake.

  Blake doesn't smile.

  I press my nail into my palm.

  He doesn't love you.

  He'll never love you.

  This is all pretend.

  "I know we're all very excited about the new Photos feature. I'd love to praise the dev team—you're all fantastic—but this is a party." He lifts his glass. "Let's skip to something interesting."

  Everyone laughs. And lifts their glasses.

  Blake finishes his in one long sip. It's not like him. Not like the Blake I know.

  He wipes sweat from his brow.

  That isn't like him either.

  Blake doesn't get nervous.

  His eyes meet mine. They fill up with something, something real.

  The flutter in my stomach builds.

  Lightness spreads through my fingers and toes.

  I forget everything but those deep blue eyes of his.

  "My priorities are different nowadays." He steps off the stage. "There's something, no, someone I love more than Sterling Tech."

  The crowd parts until it's a straight shot between Blake and me. Good thing his mic is cordless, because I can't move a muscle.

  He walks to me slowly.

  He hands off his champagne glass.

  The expression in his eyes is pure love.

  I believe him.

  I believe everything.

  He takes my hand and strokes my fingers. "Kat, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

  My stomach flutters.

  This is pretend.

  But my body can't grasp that.

  My body is on fire. It's demanding him. Not just the heat of his touch, but the softness of his embrace.

  "You make the happiest man alive." He drops to one knee.

  I force my lips into a smile.

  Blake pulls a ring box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

  It's a solitaire on a platinum band. Four carats, five maybe. Sleek, like everything else he owns.

  The room goes quiet. Every ounce of attention is on us. I catch glances from his mother. Her mouth is hanging open, but there's no mistaking the joy on her face.

  I go for a big smile. I throw my hands over my mouth like I can't believe my luck. "Of course."

  His eyes stay glued to mine. He slides the engagement ring over my finger and rises to his feet.

  Blake leans into a kiss. Our lips meet and fireworks explode inside my body. But it's fake. Everything but the ring is fake.

  I'm engaged to Blake Sterling.

  This is either the best decision I've ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.

  Chapter 11

  Lights flash. Cell phone cameras click. An actual shutter closes and opens.

  We're a spectacle.

  Of course we're a spectacle. A public proposal is always an event.

  Blake is already at my side, his arm around my waist, his expression cool and aloof. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was a robot with only one programmed facial expression.

  He's not. There's more to him, other shades. I've only seen them briefly, but I'm as sure of them as I am of anything.

  Blake waves at the crowd. "If you'll excuse me, my fiancée and I would like to be alone. To celebrate."

  Some people laugh. A few cheer. Everyone knows celebrate is code for have crazy, hot, we-just-got-engaged sex.

  It's romantic. We're committing to forever. We're promising to proclaim our love in front of everyone. It's beautiful.

  Except it's bullshit.

  I force my lips into a smile. I force my gaze to my ring. It catches every bit of light in the room. It mocks my decision to choose money over integrity. Over honesty and love and affection.

  I don't believe in karma, not usually, but I can't fight the sense I'm sealing my fate.

  I'm mocking love. I'm mocking marriage. I'm mocking lifelong commitment.

  My parents loved each other. Even after twenty years of marriage, they were madly in love. They still smiled and giggled like teenagers.

  They even died together.

  It was better that way. For them. They would have been lost without each other.

  But for me…

  It's been three years since the accident that killed my parents and left Lizzy in critical condition for weeks. I've been holding things together for three years, and I've never really found my footing. Everything is too expensive. And there's never enough time.

  I need Blake's money. I know that.

  But this gorgeous, expensive, showy ring makes me want to hurl.

  It's the most beautiful horrible thing I've ever seen.

  Blake's grip around my waist tightens. It's a little possessive, sure, but that part is for show.

  I think.

  The crowd parts for us. No, it's parting for Blake. He has that effect on people. They bend to his will.

  Cool air hits my face as Blake pushes the doors open.

  I lean into Blake's touch.

  I soak up all his warmth.

  And I hate that too.

  My gesture is a lie.

  I force my gaze away from the ring. We're at some fancy hotel uptown. The streets are quiet. The limo is parked at the curb. And, the
re, in front of it, are bare trees. But there are tiny white buds on the tree at the end of the street.

  It's a cherry tree. It's almost the season.

  Blake opens the limo door for me and helps me inside. Then he's on the opposite bench. He pulls the door closed. It shuts out the sounds of the party.

  Soft white lights glow. This really is a beautiful limo. Sleek. Like all his possessions.

  Like the ring.

  Like me. I'm close enough to something he owns. A woman under contract. He doesn't strike me as the type who would think of his wife as his property, but you never really know. Rich people are awfully entitled. The men especially.

  I sink into my seat. The leather is freezing against my exposed skin. The entire world feels freezing. Like there isn't a shred of love or warmth left.

  "Kat."

  He's just as cool as the leather. As the air. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." I smooth my dress. Cross my legs. Try to look at anything besides the ring.

  "Something." His voice is sincere.

  Does it really bother Blake that I'm upset? He got what he wanted. This is all what he wants.

  He takes a seat next to me. Presses his thigh against mine.

  He leans in to whisper. "Tell me."

  His breath warms my skin. It's the only warm thing in the universe. I can focus on how much I want him, how much my body demands his.

  That's real.

  And, right now, I need real.

  His lips brush against my neck. My body reacts instantly.

  My back arches of its own accord.

  My legs part.

  My tongue slides over my lips.

  "You're overwhelmed." He whispers it in my ear like it's a dirty promise.

  "I know how I feel. I don't need you explaining it to me." My body whines at my protests. It doesn't want to talk. It doesn't want feelings. It wants his hands and his mouth and his cock.

  He pushes my hair aside with a gentle touch. Then it's his lips on my neck. He kisses me. Softly. Then harder.

  "Tell me I'm wrong." His fingers skim the bare skin on my back. They settle on the top of my zipper.

  "Do you even care?"

  His eyes turn down. He actually looks hurt. I think. His expressions are all so similar. "I want to make this as easy as possible for you."

  "You wouldn't want a difficult wife?"

  "No." He undoes my zipper. "I like you, Kat. I want you to be happy."

  "Really?"

  "I don't lie when we're alone."

  Happy is a tall order, given the circumstances. "That isn't going to happen. Not with all this deception."

  He nods with understanding. "You don't want to think about it."

  It's more a statement than a question. I nod anyway. I stare into Blake's blue eyes. They're still beautiful and deep and impenetrable. "Distract me."

  His lips curl into a half-smile. He nods. "Close your eyes."

  I do.

  He turns me so I'm facing away from him.

  He pushes my dress off my shoulders.

  It falls to my waist.

  I'm topless— this was one of those can't-wear-a-bra-under-it dresses.

  I'm exposed. On display.

  It makes my sex clench.

  I still like it. I still like feeling dirty. Blake still seems to know my desires better than I do.

  His hands skim my back, sides, torso. He draws circles around my nipples.

  My thoughts float away. They're off in some corner of my brain. Desire is taking over the rest.

  I need him.

  Now.

  Faster than now.

  I arch my back, pushing my breasts into his hands. He nips at my ear. And his hands, oh his hands.

  "Are you on birth control?" he asks.

  I nod. "The shot." As promised, he sent me his test results after our last conversation.

  He tugs at my dress, lifting my ass so he can slide it to my feet. "You remember the safeword?"

  "Yes."

  He tugs hard at my panties. They strain against my hips until the lace fabric snaps.

  Blake's lips find mine. His kiss is commanding. Possessive.

  It wakes up every nerve in my body. It gets every part of me screaming for more of him.

  I shift my hips. I tug at the fabric of his suit jacket. I kiss him back as hard as I can.

  His pulls me onto his lap. I can feel his erection through his slacks. Fuck, it feels so good, knowing he's hard because of me. There's something instinctive and visceral about it.

  I want my hands around him.

  I want him coming from my touch.

  Or my mouth.

  I have no idea how to touch a man beyond late night gossip sessions back in high school. But I don't care that I'm inexperienced. That I may make a fool of myself.

  I want him too badly to care.

  He drags his lips down my neck, over my collarbone and chest. His mouth closes around my nipple. He sucks hard. Soft. Then it's short flicks of his tongue. Long ones.

  I surrender to the sensations forming in my body.

  His soft, wet mouth.

  His strong hands.

  The cold leather against my thighs.

  The strain as he spreads my legs.

  His thumb against my clit.

  Pleasure wells up inside me as he rubs me. It pushes out that last nagging thought, the one reminding me about the weight on my left hand.

  Then he's teasing me with one finger. I rock my hips to meet him deeper but he teases and teases and teases.

  Finally, he slides his finger inside me.

  Damn. That feels good.

  It's not as intense as last time, when it was his cock inside me, but it's still fucking amazing.

  He rubs me, sucking on my nipples as he fucks me with his fingers.

  It's so much sensation. I can barely take it. But this time, my hands are on his skin. This time I can touch him.

  I tug at his tie and toss it aside. I undo the top two buttons of his shirt. My fingers skim his chest. He's hard and strong against my palm. And warm.

  The whole world is warm.

  I dig my nails into his skin. He sucks harder. Strokes harder. Pushes deeper.

  The pressure inside me winds tighter. I tug at Blake's hair. I shift my hips. I let out a heavy groan.

  Everything unfurls as I come.

  "Blake." I pull him closer. I groan his name.

  Bliss overwhelms me. Every part of me feels good. Home. Safe. Satisfied.

  Blake wraps his arms around me.

  I blink my eyes open. Stare into his baby blues.

  He's the Blake I understand. The one who only wants my body. Who only brings me pleasure.

  If only we understood each other like this all the time.

  He runs his fingers through my hair and leans in to press his lips to mine.

  I kiss him harder. I need all of him. Not just his body, but the rest of him too. He's going to be my husband. I need more than great sex. I need something else to hold onto.

  He drags his lips to my ear. "Turn around." His voice is a demand. "Hands against the back of the seat."

  I shift off him, plant my knees on the bench, and press my palms against the slick leather.

  He positions himself behind me. His zipper undoes. My tongue slides over my lips reflexively. I want so badly to touch him or taste him. Something. Anything.

  But I'm still at his mercy.

  No, I like being at his mercy.

  I want it.

  And I want more.

  I want everything.

  For the first time in my life, I'm greedy.

  His fingers dig into my hips. He holds me in place as he drives into me. It's one hard thrust. I get the full force of him.

  Just him. No condom. Nothing between us. Well, between our bodies.

  My eyelids press together.

  He feels so good. Warm and hard and mine. Like his body was made for mine. Like we're both exactly where we belong.

&nb
sp; "You need to come on my cock." His voice is heavy. Almost desperate.

  I nod. I need to come on his cock. I need it more than I've ever needed anything.

  He holds me in place as he fucks me.

  He goes hard. Deep. It hurts, but in a good way. In a fucking amazing way.

  Pleasure wells up inside me. I tug at the seat. Curl my toes. Groan against the leather.

  It spurs him on. Gets him going deeper. Groaning lower.

  He slides his hand between my legs to stroke my clit.

  Fuck.

  It pushes me right to the edge. Almost…

  I arch my back, shifting my hips to meet his thrusts.

  His nails dig into my skin. A warning that he's in charge. I moan some kind of affirmation. He's in control. I love him in control.

  A few more thrusts and I'm there. All that pressure unwinds. My sex pulses as I come. I groan his name. I rock my hips. I try to do something to contain the intensity of it, but it still knocks me over.

  My knees shake.

  My hands slip.

  Blake helps me up. Holds me tighter. Only he's not Blake now. He's that animal version.

  His groans are low and deep.

  His movements are rough. Hard.

  He moves faster. Deeper.

  It hurts, but in a good way.

  His breath gets ragged. His groans get higher. His nails dig into my skin.

  Then he's there. I can feel his orgasm in the way his cock pulses, in the way his groans run together, in the way his nails scrape my flesh.

  When he's done, he pulls back and zips his slacks.

  I collapse on the bench seat. I'm naked. He's dressed.

  I hold onto my satisfaction for as long as I can. Maybe he'll never love me, but he will fuck me senseless. That's more than some people get.

  It's not enough, but it's something.

  Chapter 12

  Somehow, I get back into my dress long enough to get from the garage to the elevator to Blake's apartment. He says nothing until we're in the bathroom and then it's only to ask if I'd like anything to eat or drink.

  He draws a bath. Half of me wants to scream I can do this myself. The other half wants to fall into his arms and let him take care of me forever.

  There's something comforting about the surrender. About letting go of all the thoughts bouncing around my head. I want to be better at it.

  I want to be able to let go. To let someone else take care of me. Someone I trust.

  I'm just not sure if that's Blake.