“Come here.” Max pulled me to him.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He caressed my hair. “You give a damn good blow job. But I don’t want to come. We’ve got all night.”
We’ve got all night. He wanted me to stay?
“Then what are you waiting for, Mr. Knight?”
He growled. His fingers slipped through my hair, gripped tightly, then he pulled me in and kissed me madly, fervently, as if he couldn’t get enough. As he released me, his teeth grazed my lips.
I gasped when he twisted our bodies and I ended up on my back. Then he dragged me to the edge of the bed and stepped off.
“I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name.”
Oh. My. God. Take me now, Max.
And he did.
He fucked me until hours passed, until I was dead tired.
We lay there side by side, the heat of his body touching mine. I rested my head in the crook of his neck with our fingers intertwined by his chest.
“You are amazing.” He kissed the back of my hand.
“So are you.” I ran a hand across his chest.
“I think that was the best dessert I’ve ever had.” He brushed my lips ever so lightly.
“Told you.” I shrugged.
Max chuckled. “You must be starving.”
“Famished.”
“I’ll go heat up dinner.” He tapped my nose. “But you take your time and rest up. After dinner, you’re mine.”
I didn’t know what came over me, but while he was in the kitchen heating up our dinner without clothes on, I walked toward him naked with my high heels on. Max lifted me on the counter and took me again.
After dinner, we went to the room and used my torn lingerie to tie his hands. I wanted him to beg, and so he did.
“I have to be honest. I believe three orgasms is the most I’ve had in one day.” I snuggled in his arms. “You know, most men ask how many partners I’ve been with, but you never did. Why?”
Max caressed my face, lifted a strand of hair around my ear. “It’s none of my business. You already told me about your long-term relationship. The number doesn’t matter. You’re a high-class woman who wouldn’t sleep with just any man. In fact, I think you choose wisely.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I ran a hand down his bicep, feeling its curve and the hardness.
“I’ve been told that.” He snorted.
“So where do we go from here? Are we just fuck buddies?”
Max chuckled. “Fuck buddies. Now that’s a first. If that is all you want, then I’ll have no choice but to agree.”
“And if I want more? More as in dating, getting to know you better, and maybe having a future kind of deal?”
“I would like that, too.”
I beamed a smile and cuddled closer, melding my body to his. I’d never felt so loved and wanted. I wanted Max, all of him. I didn’t want just the dating. Eventually I would want to be his wife.
“Then dating it is,” I said. “So does this mean exclusive or not? I just want to clarify, because I have a long list of men waiting to call me.”
Max poked my breast, not hard, but to startle me. “You can burn your list. No one gets to touch what’s mine. When I date, I’m exclusive. I don’t believe in sharing.”
Music to my ears. The words I wanted to hear.
“Are we crystal clear? I had to say it.” Max laughed, the full belly kind.
“No more crystal jokes.” I poked him again and again until Max lifted himself over me.
He grabbed the fabric I used to tie him up and waved it at me. The dark gleam in his eyes told me what he planned to do with the fabric and me.
My body trembled. I was already wet for him.
Chapter 11
Max
I sent Crystal a bouquet of red roses to her house to thank her for bringing dinner and for an amazing night. I also sent her flowers a week after that to celebrate our one week. Kind of cheesy, one might think, but I had a feeling she might appreciate the sentiment.
A month later, Crystal had been coming just about every night. I even gave her her own set of keys. I wanted to proceed at a slow pace, but somehow Crystal managed to weasel her way to more.
Before I knew it, she had practically moved in. But what the hell. Life was too short. Might as well make the most of it.
We hadn’t disclosed our relationship to our co-workers. In fact, we hid it well, even when Crystal visited me often in my office during lunch hours. We played it off as having a lunch business meeting.
Mandy called on the intercom: “Mr. Knight. Ms. Blackwell is here to see you.”
“Yes, we have a lunch meeting,” I said. “Let her through.”
The door buzzed and Crystal walked in and closed it behind her.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Knight?”
Crystal wore a tight knit sweater dress that clung to her body. She also wore her hair down.
“Have a seat. I wanted your opinion on the color scheme. We had a meeting regarding this matter.”
Crystal sat and glanced over me at the table. “You ordered lunch?”
“I took the liberty of catering lunch for us. I hope you don’t mind. It’s Chinese.”
“No. I don’t mind at all. Thank you. I love Chinese food. I know a great Chinese restaurant nearby.”
“By any chance, is it called Szechuan Palace?” I asked.
Her eyes beamed. “Yes. We have the same great taste.”
“I believe food is not the only thing we have in common, don’t you agree?”
She gave me a wicked glance. “I so agree.”
“Shall we get lunch?” I tilted my head behind me.
Crystal rose. “I would love to.”
“Buffet style for two.”
“Why not? It’s the best kind.” She smiled.
Just then the clouds opened up and the sun peeked through, highlighting her hair to almost white, and the blue in her eyes looked silver.
“You have a beautiful view,” she said, serving herself some Kung Pao chicken.
“I do.” I looked straight at her.
Her cheeks turned slightly pink. After she scooped some fried rice and assorted vegetables, she walked to the sofa. I followed and sat next to her.
“I’ll be heading to New York Fashion Week in a couple of weeks.” I used the chopsticks to pick up some chicken and shoved it in my mouth.
Crystal crossed her legs and studied me. “Is this an invitation, or are you letting me know your agenda? Because it’s not on my calendar.”
I went back to the table and picked up two bottles of water. “No, it’s not on your calendar, and no, this is not an invitation.”
Crystal stiffened. She even stopped chewing. “Oh. Glad you made that clear.”
Her tone hinted at sarcasm, but she remained professional.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to come with me. We can’t always travel together for work, but we can for personal reasons.”
She swallowed and used her chopsticks to pick up a piece of broccoli into her mouth. “Yes. I know. That’s why I asked.” She flashed a quick smile.
“Good. I’m glad you understand. To tell you the truth, a part of me worried.”
Crystal cackled. “Oh, please, Max. We’re professionals. I know there’ll be times when you’ll have to do your own thing. Though I would love to accompany you to New York Fashion Week another time. I’ve never been.”
“I’ll make it happen, but sorry, not this time. I need you to take care of the Asian market. I also need you to make some phone calls. The Japanese are sending their rep to visit us.”
“During Fashion Week? Don’t they attend?”
“Yes, but again, they’re sending their reps at the same time.”
Crystal took a drink from her water bottle and placed it down. “I see. So in two weeks? Will you be gone the whole week?”
I bit down on my snow pea. “Yes, and a few days more. I’m going t
o visit a friend.”
“Oh. A friend.” Her tone elevated, and she looked away.
That was the first time I got a taste of the unexpected jealous side of her.
“My friend Jason. We’re college friends. He and his wife live in New York.”
“Oh. And you should. You should visit your friend. I’m sure it’s difficult being so far away.”
I dipped my eyes lower to my almost empty plate. “I do wish we lived closer. Anyway, I’ve never heard you speak of your friends.”
She twisted in her seat to face me. “I have none. Women all hate me.”
Her tone was so serious I almost believed her until she chuckled.
“Oh, Max. I’m just kidding. I have friends, but they’re scattered throughout the states. I have a few close high school friends nearby, but they’re busy. A couple of them have children.”
“Do I get to meet them?” I placed my plate on the table and leaned back into the sofa.
“Only if I get to meet yours, too.” She gave me a smirk.
Crystal leaned back and spread her legs, one over the back of the sofa.
“Is this an invitation?” I stroked the length of her leg.
“Yes, it is. I kinda forgot to wear underwear this morning.”
I sucked in a breath and ran my hand lower and lower until my thumb landed on her clit. After I circled it a few times, I took my hand away.
“If you want more, you’re going to have to show me, Ms. Blackwell. How badly do you want me?” I looked at my watch pretentiously to hint that I could be elsewhere, just to tease her.
I would never make my woman feel like she wasn’t worth my time, but Crystal liked a little challenge. And I loved teasing her.
She angled her eyebrows. “I wanted you the second you bumped into me. No, I take that back. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you on paper. I read an article about you in Knight Fashion magazine, your struggles, your dreams, and all about you. You are the epitome of the perfect man, Maxwell Knight. And I’m so happy that I’m here with you.”
“I am, too.”
I had been with many women. Most of them wanted to date me for my status, fame, and money. Some even wanted to fuck in hopes of getting modeling careers or a job at Knight Fashion.
It was hard to distinguish who wanted me for myself. Her honest words had me speechless. I hadn’t given her my heart fully because of my past experiences, but perhaps she could be the one. The one I could trust to be my best friend. My soul mate. My lunch buddy, always and forever.
I supposed time would tell. One day at a time. After all, to make any relationship last, there had to be work, give and take, bad and good times. I truly believed any couple who could weather the storm was meant for each other.
Perhaps Crystal would be my always and forever. Too soon to tell, but we seemed to be on the right path so far. Hopefully there would be few bumps or curves, and if there were, we would see how things played out.
I offered her my hand, and she took it.
“Are we going somewhere?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“It’s time for dessert.” I winked. “I’m going to fuck you on my desk. Don’t worry. My office is soundproof.”
She twisted her lips. “Good. Because you’ll be screaming my name from the things I’m going to do to you.”
I smacked her ass. She yelped and jerked forward.
“Is this a challenge?” I asked, planting her on my desk and spreading her legs apart with my own.
She yanked my tie until my face met hers. “It is. You know me so well.”
“I do. But sorry, my love, I think we’re both going to win this challenge.”
After I laid her down, I sucked her clit and made her scream my name.
About M. Clarke
International Bestselling, Award Winning, Author M. Clarke resides in Southern California. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great.
To find out more about M. Clarke at your favorite e-book retailer!
Chapter 1
Cyn Aston should’ve be pissed. Screw that, she should’ve be ten shades of absolutely irate and ready to burn the hotel room down around her can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-pants B-list actor boyfriend and the three—yes, three—star fuckers in the bed with him. Instead she laughed, grabbed the unopened bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket at the foot of the bed, and popped the cork, hitting Sebastian right in his Emmy-Award-winning ass. He yelped and spun around to face her, his no doubt drug-inhibited boner looking a little droopy.
“Oops, my bad.” She took a swig straight from the bottle as realization dawned in Sebastian’s eyes. “Did I catch you at a bad moment?”
“Cynthia,” he said in his fake British accent, using her full name unlike everyone else on the face of the planet. Hell, even the tabloids called her Princess Cyn. “It’s not what it looks like.”
She gave the scene a slow once-over. Her boyfriend of eight months, buck naked in a bed surrounded by three equally naked and—judging by their bloodshot, dilated eyes—equally stoned women. Book club? Political debate? Underwater basket-weaving convention? Nope. Drugged-up foursome in the presidential suite at a five-star hotel? Yep. The champagne bubbles popped in her mouth as she gulped more of the effervescent liquid. She wasn’t drinking to numb herself. She was sucking down the alcohol because she didn’t feel a damn thing. Not with Sebastian and not with any of the other men who’d shared her bed. Oh, she’d orgasmed. Coming had never been the problem. It was the something else, the emotional connection that had never clicked into place.
Her parents had—and still had—a storybook romance so sugary sweet Hallmark would turn it down for being over-the-top sentimental. In a few days, her older brother would be joining the wedded-bliss crowd, and with any luck, Garrett and Sophia would land on the right side of the fifty-fifty divorce odds. So Cyn knew exactly what she was missing when it came to relationships: Love. Why? Because the man she’d spent her whole life loving never gave her a second look, and he never would.
“Sebastian.” She toasted him with the half-empty bottle of champagne before putting it down on the room-service cart piled high with oysters and chocolate-covered strawberries. Good Lord, the man was a walking cliché. “This is exactly what it looks like.”
“Give me another chance.” He clumsily crawled over the women’s sprawled legs, scrambled off the bed, and stood in front of her. His hard-on had given up the ghost and shriveled up as if it were hiding. “I love you. It’ll never happen again.”
“Oh, honey, you are not a good enough actor to ever convince me of that.” She giggled at the offended look that crossed his so-handsome-he-was-practically-pretty face. “But it’s okay because I don’t love you, either.”
“So does that mean you want to join in?” Hopeful and horny, right up to the end.
Cyn snorted and shook her head. “The room’s booked through the weekend. Feel free to stay and enjoy yourself, run up the room-service tab, whatever.”
“Yeah, it’s not like you care. It’s only money,” he sneered, obviously not taking kindly to the reminder about his personal finances—or lack of them—after his last show was canceled. “Mommy and Daddy’s money, to be more specific. They’ll always have more for their little princess.”
Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she gave him her best bored-little-rich-girl look. “Exactly.”
She grabbed the second bottle of champagne, this one still unopened, and strode out the door. The elevator doors slid open as soon as she hit the button and she shared the ride down to the lobby with a half-drunk businessman and a woman Cyn would bet her nearly inexhaustible trust fund was paid by the hour. It was more proof that love existed only for the few. The rest of the world paid up front.
The L button lit up and the doors opened. She wasn’t worried about getting a new room. There was always a room to be found for an Aston. The lobby was practically em
pty as she strutted through it. Garrett’s wedding wasn’t for another forty-eight hours, but by this time tomorrow, the place would be packed with Aston relatives from across the globe for what the society pages were calling the wedding of the year. She’d be there in a mint-green monstrosity of a dress, counting the minutes until she could slip back into her signature head-to-toe black—well, except for the short platinum razor cut that her mother had declared was practically a fuck you to the rest of society. Good old Mom wasn’t wrong.
“Would you like me to call you a taxi, Ms. Aston?” the doorman asked as he held open the door for her.
“Thanks, Henry, you always have my back.”
“Of course.” He flicked his wrist and a cab appeared as if by magic. “Where to?” he asked as he opened the yellow door for her.
Now wasn’t that the question. It was almost midnight, but she sure as hell wasn’t staying here. Going back to the family compound down the Oregon coast and explaining why she was dragging her ass in at this late hour and why Sebastian wasn’t going to be coming with her to the wedding sure as hell wasn’t at the top of her want-to-do list. So where could she go? The answer popped into her head right as she slid across the cab’s vinyl backseat.
“The Silver Marina.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Henry shut the door and gave the directions to the driver.
It was perfect. Her brother’s best friend, Hunter McKenney, was tucked away in the hotel’s other presidential suite with whatever it was that kept Mr. Uptight Hottie warm at night, making his uninhabited yacht the perfect spot to hole up for the night and drink a bottle of champagne by herself in peace. And if she happened to get to sleep in sheets that smelled like sandalwood, spice, and the man who never gave her a second look no matter how she flirted, well, she’d just have to live with it.
Hunter McKenney watched from the presidential suite’s floor-to-ceiling window as the sunrise’s first rays poked through the city’s crowded skyline. Unease rippled up his spine. Maybe it was the walls around him when all he wanted was to spend the few hours of downtime he had on his yacht, maybe it was the clock ticking down to his best friend’s wedding reminding him that he was losing his longtime wingman, or maybe it was knowing that Garrett’s sexy-as-sin little sister—who was beyond off-limits—was across the hall banging her loser of a boyfriend judging by the moaning coming from across the hall.
Alphas of Seduction Page 10