The CEO's Baby (Thirsty Thursday Book 2)

by Kyle Autumn

  Each notch on the zipper is excruciating, but it finally reaches the bottom and her straps loosen. I draw them down her shoulders so she can step out of her dress, which she does. So I’m left with a view of her jaw-dropping backside as she’s in nothing but a lacy thong and her heels. Fuck me, she’s not an angel. She’s a damn goddess come to life. And I plan to worship at her altar tonight.

  She peeks over her shoulder, probably wondering what I’ll do next. Or maybe she’s getting shy and doesn’t want me to see her naked. I’ll get her comfortable. No problem.

  “Turn around,” I grit out. Way to make her comfortable.

  She hesitates, but then she turns in a half circle and faces me. If she’s a goddess from behind, the front of her is absolutely indescribable. I’ve never seen a woman so gorgeous, and I’ve seen more than my fair share.

  “Fuck me,” I accidentally mutter out loud.

  “Isn’t that what I’m here to do?” she sasses, a hand on her hip.

  I can’t help the grin that splits my mouth. Or the laugh that comes out. “Touché.” Then I approach her and it’s fireworks like this morning in my office all over again.

  We’re like magnets. Our mouths connect, her hands shoot to my suit lapels, and mine wrap around her waist. This time, though, she rips my jacket down my arms, so I release her and drop the jacket to the floor. Then she does the same with my shirt and my tie. When those are gone, I pick her up and take her to my bed. She has her legs wrapped around my waist, but I start at the buckle of my belt and she lets go. Then she shoves my pants down until we’re both left in our underwear.

  “Condom?” she asks, tucking some hair behind her ear.

  Clearly, this isn’t her usual MO, but it is mine, so I’ll take it from here. I go over to the nightstand to pull a packet out of the drawer. Once I’ve retrieved it, I head back to her, where she’s taking her panties off. But I stop her with a hand on hers.

  “Nope. I’ll do that, thank you.”

  When I take my hand away, she goes to slip her heels off. But I halt that as well.

  “Oh, hell no,” I tell her. “Those stay on the whole time.”

  She quirks an eyebrow at me, but there’s no question. So I rip the packet with my teeth, pull my boxer briefs down, and roll the condom onto my cock. Then I crawl over her until she’s flat on her back on my bed, her fruity scent drifting up to my nose and intoxicating me.

  And then I prepare to rock her world.

  Chapter 5

  Lyra

  My teeth start to chatter a little when he, inch my inch, pulls my thong down. But, when his lips land on my ankle, the warmth soothes me, giving me the confidence I need to shut my mind off and “just have sex.” That’s all this is. I won’t let emotions get involved. Mostly because the last thing I need to do is fall in love with a noncommittal manwhore like Blake. So I won’t. Nope. Won’t do it.

  That’s why I agreed to this in the first place. Because I have to prove to myself that Roger doesn’t make a difference in how I feel today. That I don’t have to worry about emotions getting tangled. That I can roll with the boys and do it like the best of them. I may be in over my head with someone so experienced like Blake, but well, I’m too far past the point of no return. It’s not like I don’t want this to happen, so the show must go on. I can do this.

  He makes it so easy though. His soft lips are warm on my calf, on my knee, on my thigh…all the way up to my pussy. Where he spreads me open and makes me forget any thought except his name. Roger who? What hurt? All I know is what his tongue feels like when it presses on my clit. And holy shit is it glorious.

  I trail a hand up my stomach, over my breasts, and into my hair and pull. His tongue is masterful, and there’s so much pleasure that I have to even it out with pain. But it’s all too much, and when he slides his tongue inside me a few times before dragging it back up to my clit and flicking there, I lose it. I fly apart, shouting his name as my release breaks me open.

  I barely have time to relax before he’s hovering over me, his cock poised at my opening.

  “That is the first of many. I hope you’re ready,” he says.

  He doesn’t need to be worried about me being ready for him though. But I’m not sure how many more orgasms like that a girl can handle in one night. I’d be worried, but I don’t have a moment to think about it. He’s slowly sliding in, closing his eyes. Once he’s fully inside me, he pauses above me. Not moving. Closed eyes. Just…there. Inside. Where he fits perfectly. The delicious stretch is already teasing another orgasm from me, and I fear—in the best way possible—that he might be right.

  But he’s not moving. And I don’t know what to do. Do I start to move? Do I wait? Do I poke him in the chest and ask him what the fuck he’s doing? I’m about to do just that when his eyes pop open and he looks down at me. Only he shakes his head and starts sliding out before entering me again, finding a rhythm he’s good with. One I’m more than good with. Without explaining that pause. But I don’t care at the moment because his rhythm. Holy shit is it glorious. Just like his tongue was.

  Another orgasm hits me like lightning in my veins. I’ve never had a second one in one session, let alone a second one so fast after the first. But I’m gone, rolling around on the clouds, enjoying the heavenly feel of him inside me and my orgasm relaxing every single muscle in my body. Until he follows with his own right after me.

  “Angel!” he shouts at the peak, his arms tensing and his muscles rippling with the force of his release.

  That is enough for me to snap out of my post-orgasm delirium and go right back to what seems to be my natural gut reaction when it comes to him. I reel back and slap him clear across the face.

  His eyes fly open. Then they narrow into a sexy, smoldering gaze. “You like it rough, sweetheart?”

  “Uh, no. You called me by another woman’s name, you prick!” I start trying to shuffle out from under him, but he gets up on his knees and pins me to the bed.

  “What did I say?” he asks, a sharp seriousness to his tone.

  “You called me Angel.” I try to get out of his grip, so he releases me, but he doesn’t rise off the bed. “Was that the last girl you fucked in this bed?”

  He just laughs and wipes a hand down his face. “I called you angel,” he says, “because, since the moment I saw you, I thought you were angelic.” He pulls out of me, takes the condom off, and disposes of it in a trash can near the bed. “With your perfect little body and your short hair.” He grabs a towel off his dresser. “And your cute fucking nose.”

  My hand flies to my nose. “My nose isn’t fucking cute!”

  He snickers. It’s not a laugh, and it’s not a giggle. It’s a goddamn snicker. And I’m ready to get up and slap him again, but I have to stop and remember when I became so violent. He seemed to like it this morning before we kissed and just now, so maybe it’s just him. I’ve never hit anyone in my entire life, but he brings it out of me.

  “I was right,” he says under his breath, smirking.

  “Right about what?” I ask when he goes to his nightstand again.

  He removes another condom. “Nothing, angel.” He winks at me.

  I could smack that wink off his face. But he’d like that too much. Instead, I just ask, “What are you doing?”

  “Well,” he says, tearing the packet open, “I made you a promise, and I’m getting ready to fulfill that promise.” Then he rolls the condom onto his cock. His massive, thick, somehow-still-hard cock.

  Which reminds me that I, too, am naked. And not one bit shy about it. Because we’re just having sex. And I don’t have to worry about if he likes the small pooch in my stomach or the lack of a gap between my thighs. Hey, wait. Did he say “perfect little body” before?

  I shake that thought out of my head. “You’re ready to go again?” I ask instead.

  “With you”—he approaches the bed, flips me over onto my front, and tugs my head back by my hair to speak by my ear—“I’ll always be ready. Just like you a
re for me.” Then he thrusts into me from behind and makes me come for a third time.

  Which has never been done.

  ~~~

  Also something that’s never been done before? Sleeping at a stranger’s house after no-strings-attached sex. That happened. I just woke up next to an empty space. No note. No nothing. Because this is no-strings-attached sex. And we don’t owe that to each other. So, why does it sting a little?

  Nope. That’s letting feelings get in the way, and I said I wouldn’t do that. I’m a big girl, and I can do what the boys do. So I get up, gather my clothes, and dress. Then I walk downstairs, prepared to do the walk of shame, and realize that my car isn’t here. And, if Blake isn’t home, then…what am I supposed to do? Uber? Shit.

  I’m frozen at the front door, deciding which rideshare app to use, when the door suddenly opens and Blake fills the frame, a paper bag in one hand and a tray with to-go coffee cups in another. Blake, the man with those ridiculously drool-worthy abs I barely had time to drool over before I passed out after my fourth orgasm of the evening. Blake, the man who gave me those four orgasms in one night, a feat I never dreamed possible.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asks, but he looks less casual than his words sounded. His eyes appear…worried?

  Nope. That’s reading into it. Letting emotions get tangled. Shutting that down right now.

  “Well, you were gone, so I thought…” I trail off though. Then I gather my thoughts. “I thought I should leave because I figured that that’s how these things work. So I’ll just—”

  “But your car isn’t here. How did you think you were going to get home?”

  I hold my phone up, the Uber app loaded and ready to go.

  “That’s unnecessary.” He steps back onto his porch and holds the door open for me. He’s in a T-shirt and jeans, and I have to say, while I love the suit-and-tie look, I think I prefer the casually sexy Blake. Aw, shit. “I can take you home if you really want to leave right now.”

  I mean, I should. I can feel myself not wanting to leave, but that’s not what this night is for. So I nod and walk through the doorway.

  He sets the coffee tray on the hood of his car to open my door for me. I get in, and he closes the door, grabs the coffee tray, and heads to the driver’s side. While he gets everything situated inside the car, I say a mental goodbye to the flower gardens I would have loved to dig into.

  “I meant what I said,” he tells me, so I look at him. His gaze is serious before he flicks it over to the gardens. “Any time you want.”

  I just nod. Speaking would be too much.

  After he starts the car, he backs out of the driveway. “So, I was gone because I had to get something for breakfast.” He hands me a coffee from the tray.

  Once I’ve taken it, he picks the paper bag up, which I also take.

  “I don’t keep a lot of food in my house,” he says. “I’m no good at cooking anyway, so there’s no point.”

  I won’t let the touched feeling settle in my heart. He probably does this for every woman. Gulp.

  “What do you eat, then?” I ask as I open the bag.

  Muffins. Chocolate chip. They smell divine.

  He turns a corner but then pulls over. “I usually just get take-out for the most part. Isn’t healthy for me, but what else am I supposed to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Hire a chef instead of a landscaper?”

  He laughs, so I do too. I’m glad I can joke with him. But no—not getting too used to it.

  “Why did you stop the car?” I ask when we’ve both stopped laughing.

  “I don’t know where you live.”

  Well, duh. “Oh, right.” So I give him directions, and we get back to my apartment building within fifteen minutes. Time mostly spent eating the muffins and drinking the coffee he bought for breakfast.

  When we pull into my complex, I tell him where to drop me off. Before I get out of the car, though, I need to know one thing.

  “Where did you get these muffins? And the coffee.”

  “There’s this little place around the block from my house. I can actually walk there when the weather is nice. It’s called The Steam Room.” Then he laughs a little. “And I confused Kimber, the barista, this morning with an order different than my usual.”

  I take the final sip of my delicious coffee. “Thanks.” Then I tip my cup to him and get out of the car. In the dress and the heels I was wearing last night. Classy.

  I start to walk toward my apartment, but his voice stops me.

  “Angel!” he shouts through the rolled-down window of his car.

  Right. That’s me. So I turn around.

  “Thanks for last night. We could have gone for five though, yeah?”

  “Maybe next time,” I say automatically. But then my eyes fly wide open and I spin around to speed-walk the hell to my apartment.

  I swear I hear him chuckle as I rush away.

  ***

  Blake

  There’s that walking-away thing again. Except, this time, she’s not coming back. And she’s speeding away from me as fast as those heels will let her. At this point, though, I’ve done what I set out to do. I got what I wanted. So, why does it feel like a piece of my heart is no longer my own?

  Get it together, Blake. You have a company to run now. You don’t have time for meaningless bullshit like love and hearts and women who’ve been hurt.

  Still, I watch her unlock her door, enter her apartment, and shut the door behind her. Essentially shutting the door on whatever this was between us. Because I don’t do seconds. I don’t go back for more. I fuck and move on. Well, that’s what I thought I do. Apparently, once wasn’t enough to get her out of my system. Driving away from her is hard as hell, so I know she’s still lodged in there somewhere.

  Between the face-slapping, her sweetness still lingering on my tongue, and the way I almost came as soon as I had finally slipped all the way inside her, it’s no wonder she’s still in there. If I believed in love, monogamy, and that kind of thing, she’d be it for me. But I chose my career, and I’ve finally—though slightly miraculously and sooner than I thought—made it to the top. Last night’s “celebration” was the icing on the cake. That’s all.

  Inside my pocket, my phone buzzes as I turn right after a stop sign. When I pull it out, I see that it’s Simon Bale, the board member I primarily speak with. So I answer it.

  “Hi, Mr. Cornwell,” he says down the line. “It’s Simon. Do you have a minute?”

  “I do,” I reply, taking a left at the light.

  “Great. The board has some concerns we’d like to address as quickly as possible now that you’re the new CEO. Which, by the way, was approved by the board.”

  “What can I do for you, Simon?”

  “Right. Let’s get down to it, shall we?”

  I nod even though he can’t see me.

  Then he continues. “When Charles was CEO, we were concerned about his lifestyle, as you well know.”

  “Yes, I do know,” I say. Then I set my jaw. I think I know where this is going, and I’m not going to like it.

  “Yes. Well, we’re afraid that yours is, well, to be frank, no better. And we don’t want to replace the face of the company with someone who regularly lives the same way he did.”

  Meaning they don’t want me fucking around the way Chaz used to. The way I currently do. Which is exactly what I thought he was going to say. And, no, I don’t like it.

  I say nothing because I have nothing good to say. The last thing I need to do is piss the board off as my first act as CEO. But I thought it was ridiculous for Chaz too. So I definitely think it’s ridiculous for me. Though I understood it too. And I get it now. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck ass, and I should have seen it coming.

  “We’ll give you some time to adjust to the position,” Simon tells me. “But we have to uphold the same standards with you. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Sure do,” I spit out through gritted teeth.

  “Good.
Because we did notice that you left the party last night with a woman, and we—”

  “She’s none of your concern,” I firmly say, pulling into my driveway.

  “Well, Blake, you’re the CEO now. And we run the company with its best interest in mind, so it technically is our con—”

  “Understood.” I can’t hear any more of this. They don’t need to drag Lyra into it. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No.” He clears his throat. “That’s all we had to tell you. Have a great weekend. We’ll see you on Monday.”

  I hang the phone up without saying anything else and throw it on the passenger’s seat—where Lyra was just fifteen minutes ago. After turning the car off, I stare at the flower gardens Lyra complimented yesterday. I take a deep breath of the air Lyra was just breathing and get out of the car Lyra was just in. Then I go inside my house, the one Lyra just left, and nearly decide to swear my bedroom off. Because, yeah, Lyra was in there. Naked. Gloriously naked and sweaty and consumed by me.

  I left my phone in the car, but I don’t care. I don’t want to be reached right now. What I really want to do is get back in the car, drive back to Lyra’s place, and lose myself inside her until this bullshit goes away. But she’s now tied into the bullshit. And I don’t want to complicate it any more than it already is. I told her that I wouldn’t hurt her the way the last asshole did, and I plan to stick with that.

  But I now realize I’m not sure how that guy hurt her, and the only way not to hurt her the way he did is to know. Call it an excuse to go back over there, but it is what it is. The force to go is stronger than anything keeping me here. Especially since the board doesn’t want me fucking around with woman after woman. She’s not just some woman, and fucking her again wouldn’t be nothing. So I clutch my keys in my hand and head back out to my car.

  Fuck this shit.

  Chapter 6

  Lyra

  By the time I’m showered and dressed, I realize that it’s probably time to get on with my weekend. I’ve spent enough time thinking about Blake and last night. If that was a one-night stand and “just having sex,” then I have to move on. He’s not the type to call or come back, so I should be proud of myself, actually. Mission accomplished. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am complete. Right? Right.