“Did you call me for a reason?” I clasped my hands in my lap, more than ready to get it over with and get back to the office.
Her fake smile faltered. “I want to know what you’re doing with this Kennedy Granade character.”
“We work together on a case. That’s all.”
She lowered her gaze and pretended to rack her brain. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that family name before. Who are his parents?”
“They aren’t our people.” The phrase was general enough, but it had an all-too-specific meaning. The Granades weren’t members of the New Orleans elite. They didn’t escort me to debutante balls, or go to the same parties, or have the right friends.
“Well.” She waved her drink, almost sloshing it on Matisse. “Then I have nothing to worry about?”
I ground my teeth. “What do you mean?” I knew exactly what she meant.
She set her glass down and scratched Matisse’s head. “I mean that once you get done with this lawyer nonsense and settle down, it will be with someone from an appropriate family. Not some riffraff ambulance chaser. You have a name, a reputation to protect.”
The room seemed to have grown hotter, and my cheeks burned.
“Mother, who I see is none of your business.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you are seeing him.”
I stood. “If you intended to scold me, you have. Can I go now?”
“There are plenty of lovely young men, ones whose mothers have told me are more than interested in you. Trevor Scales, Van Robins, even William Rabelais. They’ve all expressed a desire to get to know you. What about them?”
I shrugged, which did nothing to alleviate the feeling that I was an unruly twelve-year-old. “What about them? I’m not in the market for a husband. I have a career. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
She scooted an irritated Matisse from her lap and rose. “But you need to think of the future. Of children.” She swept her hand in an arc toward the rest of the expansive house. “One day, all this will be yours and what will you fill it with?”
It always went like this—her trying to tell me to get married, and me telling her that I wasn’t ready. She never listened, only pushed. “Mother, I have to go to work.”
“On a Saturday?” She picked her drink back up and took a dainty sip. I knew she’d finish the bottle before dinnertime.
“Yes. I have a very important case I’m working on. Now, if you’re done getting onto me, I’d like to go.”
Her face softened as much as the Botox would allow. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“I know.” I air-kissed her cheeks and turned to leave.
“Just don’t fall for any song and dance from that Granade man. He’s not in our league. He never will be,” she called behind me.
I gave a weak smile to our butler and hurried to my car. Mother would never change. The stratification of society was written in stone for her. Being the eldest Carmichael heir had been a full-time job since the day I was born.
I peered into the rearview mirror. I had my mother’s eyes, but not much else.
She was right about one thing: Kennedy was a different breed, and not based on status. I needed to keep him at arm’s length. Kennedy just needed to respect my space. I sighed and straightened my shoulders. We would keep it professional from there on out. I would make sure of it.
I tossed my bag onto the conference table and sank into the seat at Carey’s elbow. The sun was already low on the horizon, creating angular shadows from the downtown high-rises. I’d gone over my mother’s scolding as I drove, but it was the same song I’d heard all my life.
Frustrated on all fronts, I hoped a trip to the office would get me back in control. The legal world I’d made for myself was mine. Even though I was an associate—a small cog in a much larger machine—I was doing it my way. My career was a creature of my own invention. The fact that my mother frowned on it made it all the more rewarding.
I cleared my head of family responsibilities and focused on Carey. “Hey, how are you feeling? About Fluffy? We haven’t really had time to talk about it.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It sucks. He was a nice guy. I hate that he got mixed up in whatever Discord was doing that led to this.”
“I’m glad you got out of the hacking business.” I patted his arm.
“I didn’t really have a choice. Iron bars wouldn’t look good on a guy like me.”
“Keep on the straight and narrow. That’s the way to do it.” I nodded.
“Well, let’s not go too far. I still know how to do the high jinks.” He grinned.
“Like riding a bicycle, right?” I glanced to Carey’s computer screen. “Any luck?”
“Nope. But I did find some really interesting shibari bondage art porn. Interested?” He hovered his finger over his keys, waiting for my go-ahead.
“I don’t even know what you just said, though I did make out the word ‘porn,’ so I’ll have to pass.” I put my head down on my arms, exhaustion setting in from the mental battles I’d been waging at the luncheon and then at Mother’s.
“Come on. If you hate it, I’ll turn it off.” Carey elbowed me. “Live a little. A tiny ‘fuck you’ to the man would do you good.”
I wobbled my head back and forth on my arms. “It’s against the rules. I’m pretty sure there has to be a line or two in the Stone and Porter employment manual about no porn at work.” I was too tired to debate the inherent sexism of porn and how watching it would, in many circles, be high-fiving “the man.”
“A good life is a series of small rebellions.”
I lifted my head. “Who said that?”
“Gorepheus.” He pointed to himself.
“Smart guy.”
He nodded, his piercings glinting in the fading light. “He is. Handsome, too.”
I sighed. Maybe a little rebellion wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine, play porn at work.” I waved toward his monitor. What Mr. Porter doesn’t know won’t hurt him. “Let’s do this.”
He grinned and tapped the keys as I shielded my eyes. I tried to deny the little thrill of excitement breaking the rules gave me, but it wasn’t working. The corners of my lips quirked up, trying to give me away with a smile.
He stood and flicked the overhead lights off. “Okay, it’s starting. Check it out.”
I peeked through my fingers. A nude woman with a thin, but still killer, figure sat on the floor as a topless man covered in gorgeous tattoos circled her.
“Ready?” he asked.
She stretched leisurely and settled on the floor on her back, giving him a smile. “Do your worst.”
“Is he going to hit her?” I dropped my hands as the camera focused on the woman.
“No, well, maybe later if that’s what she wants. Shibari is a particularly specialized form of bondage, not BDSM in the hitting sense.”
“So he’s just going to tie her up?”
“Yeah.” He nodded as the man in the movie began wrapping rope around the woman’s ankles and linking it to her torso.
Before long, I was entranced by the delicate way he positioned her limbs, taking his time knotting, tying, and adjusting. He broke a sweat as she remained serene, even as she was trussed up with her legs drawn up into an M pattern.
“It’s actually kind of beautiful.” I rested my head on my hand.
“Yeah. I’ve been practicing a little myself. Not enough to do it for real, but I’m trying to work up to it.” Carey scooted his rolling chair closer to mine and turned the screen. “Now here comes the even better part.”
The man lifted the woman and tied her ropes around some wooden rods on the ceiling so she was hanging helpless, totally at his mercy.
I stared at her face, her eyes glassy. “She has no control over any of this, but she looks so . . .”
“Happy,” Carey finished for me.
“Yeah. I would be losing my mind.”
“Maybe not.” Carey’s voice was quiet. “Strong people are often th
e sort who would really benefit from giving up control, if only for a short time.”
The man in the video stripped the rest of the way, appearing back on-screen totally nude and more than ready to go. He ran his hard cock across the woman’s pussy before easing inside as she let out a pant, though her expression remained calm. He started a slow rhythm. Carey shifted in his chair, and my skin flushed as the man flexed and thrusted.
“I think maybe we’ve seen enough.” I said the words but I still watched the woman, her serenity turning to pleasure as she gave over all control to the man who’d tied her so beautifully.
“Just a little longer.” Carey’s arm rested against mine, his voice husky.
The light flicked on, and I jumped with a startled squeak.
“What’s going on in here?”
I whipped my head around to see Kennedy leaning against the glass door, a grin on his face. How long had he been standing there?
“Nothing.” Carey tapped a key and the screen went dark.
“Porn at the office. My, my. I had no idea you were such a naughty little minx, Ms. Carmichael.”
So much heat rushed into my cheeks that they felt sunburned. “W-We were just—”
Kennedy snorted. “It’s okay. I get off on tying up chicks, too. No worries.”
My embarrassment turned to anger. “You get off on pushing people around. You’re a bully.”
“I am?” He smirked, and I wanted to backhand the look off his face. “Good one, Carey. I didn’t realize you were this savvy.” Kennedy shook his head at me. “Oldest trick in the book, Scarlett. Want to get a girl on her back? Turn her on. Porn is the easiest way to do that.”
“That’s not what I was doing.” Carey slapped his laptop closed and shoved it into his bag.
“Sure it wasn’t.” Kennedy sat at the head of the conference table.
I glared at him. “It’s fine, Carey. Mr. Granade is just jealous he didn’t get to watch, too.”
“I saw plenty. Trust me.”
“I need to get home anyway. I’ve been here all day. The decryption is still running. I’ll let you know if anything happens.” Carey hurried toward the door, embarrassment dogging his steps.
I followed him. “Hey, Carey. Look at me.”
He turned and glanced to Kennedy before meeting my eyes. “I know you weren’t trying anything. I enjoyed it. Thanks for showing me.” I dropped a kiss on his cheek and he gave me a wan smile before walking out.
I spun to Kennedy. “What Carey and I do is none of your business. And you should apologize to him.”
“You’re naïve. He’s just trying to get into your panties.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’ve already been in your panties. Remember?” He let his eyes drift down my body. Dick. I ignored the thrill that shot through me, the goose bumps erupting along my skin.
Grabbing my bag from the table, I strode to the door. He was on me before I could pull it open. Pressing his chest to my back, I was flat against the glass. My bag hit the floor.
“Get off me.” I tried to buck back against him, but his hard cock pressed into my ass and my body reacted, my pussy growing wetter by the second.
He snaked his fingers through my hair, clenching his fist and pulling my head to the side. He nipped at my ear, and my panting breaths fogged the glass of the door.
“I don’t think you want me to. I think you want me on you and in you. Isn’t that right, Scarlett?”
I closed my eyes as he said my name and rubbed his stiff length against my ass. No. I made one final effort, pushing him back and turning.
Holding my hand out in front of me, I said, “Don’t. We can’t do this. We work together. That’s it. We can’t . . .”
His shirt collar was open, the vein in his neck pumping hard and steady. When I met his eyes, I was lost. No one had ever looked at me like he did. Hungry, with a mix of need and desperation.
He wet his lips and grabbed my wrist. “You keep telling me what we can’t do. Let me show you what we can.”
He swatted my other hand away and pinched my chin before crushing me into a kiss that stole every last bit of breath from my body. I clutched his sides, holding on to him as he sank into my mouth. His tongue worked me into a stupor, my body a slave to his touch. I needed to stop this, to say no, to put an end to all of it. For my career, for my family name, for my propriety. Instead, I returned his kiss, my tongue battling with his in a dance that was a mix of warfare and passion.
Reaching down, he gripped my ass and lifted me. My shoes fell to the floor, and he swung me around and set me on the conference table. Snugging between my thighs, he bent and kissed to my neck, sucking and biting as I yanked his shirt from his pants and worked at the buttons. My panties were soaked and I needed him more than I’d ever needed anything.
He pulled at my top and I lifted my arms so he could pull it off. I wore a simple white bra. He nipped at my collarbone and reached behind me, unclasping the bra and stripping it from me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He palmed my breasts and ran his thumbs over my nipples.
I bit his bottom lip and wrapped my arms around his neck, needing another taste of his wicked mouth. Our tongues parried and thrusted, neither of us giving ground. I didn’t know if I wanted to master him or to be mastered; all I knew was I didn’t want to stop.
He broke the kiss and pushed me back to lean down and capture a nipple in his mouth. I moaned and clawed at his scalp as he bit down on my hard tip, his tongue licking across it until I whimpered. Moving to the other breast, he slid a hand up my skirt to my panties.
He groaned when his fingers grazed my wet center. Putting a hand at my throat, he eased me back until I was lying on the table. The simple pressure of his fingers around my neck kicked my heart into a faster beat, made even quicker by his possessive gaze. The chilly marble top failed to cool my skin. Kissing down my stomach, he gripped my hips and yanked me to the edge before flipping up my skirt and pulling my panties off.
He dropped to his knees and put his palms flat against the inside of my thighs, giving gentle pressure and spreading me wide. One of my feet rested on an arm of a conference chair and the other perched at the edge of the table. I was completely exposed, at his mercy, and it turned me on to an alarming degree.
“Fucking hell, Scarlett.” His voice sounded tortured.
I squirmed under his gaze, and then gasped when he licked me from entrance to clit with the broad velvet of his tongue.
“Kennedy!”
He fastened his mouth to me, his tongue licking along my folds and teasing at my clit.
I ran my nails across the surface of the table, but there was nothing to hold on to. Instead, I reached down and gripped his hair as he laved my pussy. He slid his hands up my thighs until they pressed against the sensitive skin along my bikini line. I met his gaze, his eyes locked on mine as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge of my release.
When he slipped two fingers inside me, I fell back on the table and arched my back. My moans echoed off the glass walls and back to me. He pressed against my spot, stroking in and out of me with the same rhythm as his tongue. My hips kept his pace, grinding my pussy against his face as I let every pleasurable sensation rule me.
Seizing on my clit, he ran his tongue over it again and again before fastening his lips around it and sucking.
I gasped and rocked my hips, the friction ramping up the tension coiling inside me.
He groaned and pushed his fingers deep within me. Sparks erupted along my skin, skittering across my body until I was on fire and coming in an explosion of pleasure. His name was ripped from my lungs as my hips seized and my pussy convulsed greedily around his fingers, dragging them in deeper as I arched my back so hard, the unforgiving table bruised my shoulders.
“Oh my God.” I let out a huge breath and relaxed back into the table as my pussy pulsed a few more times, sending endorphins rushing to every corner of my mind.
He stopped sucking and
kissed me before standing. All I could do was stare, my body limp and my mind blissfully blank. He stripped his shirt the rest of the way off, giving me a view of his broad chest and the dark hair there that created a trail down into his pants. He scrubbed a hand down his face and reached for his belt, unbuckling it and dropping his zipper.
My eyes widened as he pulled his cock out, the tip glistening wet. I struggled to sit up, wanting to taste him. But he pushed me back down, his palm flat on my chest before roving to knead my breast. He fisted himself with his other hand, stroking slowly as he took in my body.
“Birth control?” he asked.
“Y-yes. Clean?”
“Yes.” He stroked harder and stepped to me, his tip pressing against my entrance. He leaned over me and pulled me up to him, claiming me in another mind-blowing kiss as he pushed inside me. I moaned into his mouth as he pulled back and pressed all the way inside, filling me until the slight pinch was overshadowed by the rush of need.
“So tight. Fuck, Scarlett.” He stared into my eyes and gave me a moment to adjust.
It was so wrong, everything we’d done and were about to do. But just this taste of him made me realize I’d been starved for his touch, this contact.
Gripping my ass with one hand, he pulled me into his strokes, while he used the other to rope my hair and pull my head back. His teeth grazed my neck as the slapping sound of his thighs against mine reverberated through the room. I panted as he bit down at my jugular, no doubt leaving a mark. I dug my nails into his shoulder and spread my legs even wider, getting every bit of contact to my clit and my spot.
He groaned as I opened to him fully; then he left a trail of kisses to my breasts. Sucking a hard nipple into his mouth, he yanked harder on my hair so that I arched into his mouth. I cried out as he slammed into me harder, his thick cock sliding deep with every thrust.
I reached up and yanked on his hair until he growled against my breast and stood, pulling my body to his and biting my bottom lip. Raking my nails down his back, I grabbed his ass, spurring him even rougher into me. I wanted to feel him the next day.
He pounded me, grunting with the effort, and his cock growing even harder. He wrapped his arms around me, crushing me to his chest and made smaller movements, keeping his cock lodged deeply as he thrusted. My clit buzzed, my pussy tightening for another orgasm.
Total D*ck (Bad Bitch #3) Page 9