“I’ll get the check.”
He doesn’t even wait for my response, and that’s his slight arrogance showing through again. But I was never going to turn him down. Not now.
He pays the check and turns to me, that smile making my stomach flip whether I like it or not. He’s giving me no choice here. “You coming?”
I smile back, and I slide down from my stool and pick up my purse and he knows the answer to that question. I think we both do…
Two
Lola
His apartment is exactly how I’d imagined it would be. Ultra modern, open plan and airy with huge floor-to-ceiling windows affording a magical view over Manhattan. And it’s a penthouse, of course. It’s – well, it’s stunning. And way beyond anything Kat or I could ever aspire to. Her two bedroomed apartment just outside of Manhattan is comfortable enough, but it’s nothing like this. And my old place – no. That was nothing like this, either.
I drop my jacket and purse onto a dark-mink colored couch by the window and look out at the view. To say it’s breathtaking is actually an understatement. That doesn’t do it justice. All of Manhattan and beyond is spread out and lit up before me. It’s mesmerizing. I’ve been here almost ten years now and in all that time I don’t think I’ve ever seen the city look like this.
I press my palms against the glass and continue to stare out. I’m in a stranger’s apartment; I came here for sex, and yet, all I want to do is look out of his window.
“It’s the reason I bought this place. The view.”
I close my eyes, just for a second, before I slowly turn around to face him. He’s taken his jacket off, rolled his shirt sleeves up and loosened his tie. He even makes casual look hot, but I’m not sure the butterflies kicking up hell in my stomach now are because I want him, or because I know this whole situation is wrong.
He walks toward me, his eyes never leaving mine, and he hands me a cut-glass crystal tumbler containing a generous measure of bourbon.
“Why don’t you just pay high-class escorts for sex? I mean, judging by this place, you can afford it. And isn’t it much more discreet? Faceless women. No risk of any of them hitting back with something even resembling feelings. Wouldn’t that be an easier way to keep the distance you want?”
“I don’t want to sleep with escorts.”
He holds my gaze and I take a sip of my drink, swallowing hard as the amber liquid slides slowly down my throat. And he steps forward, he’s so close to me now I can hear him breathing, and my heart – Jesus! It’s racing!
“That would be like fucking a robot,” he whispers, and he leans in to me and takes the glass from my hand, placing it on the table beside me, and I can’t breathe. I don’t know if it’s panic or lust or – I can’t breathe.
He takes a sip of his own drink before he places his glass down beside mine, and I close my eyes as he rests a hand on my hip, and that breath I can’t get out, it catches tighter in my throat as his mouth touches mine, and I taste whiskey on his lips as he kisses me. And I like it, I’m making myself like it because he isn’t… He’s everything I need him to be.
His hand slides up the length of my body, his fingers deftly brushing the curve of my waist, my forearm, skating over my skin until he reaches my neck, and I gasp quietly as he gently pushes my head back, scattering tiny kisses across the base of my throat. Am I still scared? A bit. But he’s got me. I’m all in, the growing ache in my thighs is telling me I have no choice now. He’s giving me no choice.
A shiver tears through me – a real, physical reaction – as he slides his hand around and fingers the zipper on the side of my dress, and my breath catches again, I swear, I don’t know how I’m still standing. And then he slowly pulls the zipper down, and my dress falls to the floor, and I kick it away. Expensive or not, I have no use for it now. And I’m standing here, in this stranger’s apartment, in front of a huge expanse of glass that looks out over Manhattan, in only the tiniest pair of panties and ridiculously high heels. And I’ve never felt so fucking sexy!
He drops his gaze, and I know he’s checking me out, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief that I work out and eat okay; that my body isn’t all that bad for a woman of my age. But I know my breathing is way out of control now, and that’s making my chest rise and fall at a rapid pace, and I watch as he focuses on my breasts. I want him to touch them, I want to feel myself pressed against him; I want him inside me, and this is so fucking crazy, but I’m past caring now.
He raises his gaze and his eyes meet mine, and without breaking the stare he reaches out and picks up his glass of bourbon, and he takes a sip, and he keeps the liquid in his mouth as he puts the glass down, slides a hand into the small of my back and lowers his head to my breasts. And I cry out quietly as his lips cover my nipple, and as he does so the whiskey spills out over my breast, and his tongue licks and his mouth sucks and I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I feel a tiny rivulet of whiskey trickle down over my stomach, and I wonder if he does this to all the women he brings here. Do they all get to feel this worked up and crazy? Because this man, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m wet, I know I am, he’s made me wet and – oh, Jesus! All he did was slide a hand down onto my ass and I was almost there, almost coming, I’ve never experienced anything like this before. Ever. Is he even real?
He lifts his head, and those eyes, that smile, I am dying here! He takes my hand and raises it up beside my head, his fingers intertwining with mine as he kisses me again, and as his body presses against me I feel his cock hard and erect, and I want it. I need it. Kat was so fucking right…
And then he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him, and he’s still kissing me as he carries me into the bedroom and my heart, it’s hammering so fast now it’s like it’s trying to burst out of my chest.
He lays me down and I lift my hips slightly as he drags my panties off, and he lies over me, and he throws me that smile and I swear I just got even wetter.
“I’ll be right back, beautiful.”
He disappears into the living room and I throw my arms up over my head and stretch out, taking in my surroundings. His bedroom is smart and modern, decorated in muted colors of beige and brown, and there’s another huge window in here lining one entire wall, that view, it’s everywhere in this apartment. The bed is enormous, and I sink into the mattress and smile to myself as I stretch out again, arching my back and sighing quietly as I absentmindedly reach down to touch myself. I can’t help it, I’m feeling all kinds of crazy shit here, and the frustration – yeah. It’s bad.
“Not waiting for me?”
I prop myself up on my elbows, and the sight that greets me almost knocks me for six. He’s naked, and his body – oh, man, I wasn’t prepared for this. He’s toned and hard and I don’t even notice his king-size erection at first because the rest of him is so damn perfect. He’s holding a bottle of whiskey, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a sexy-as-hell smirk as he walks over to the bed, and just watching him – every inch of my skin is starting to tingle in anticipation of what’s to come.
“No glasses?” I ask as he places the bottle down on the nightstand.
“We don’t need glasses.”
He lies down next to me, facing me, and he reaches out to grasp the bottle, taking a swig from it before he hands it to me. I swallow a mouthful down and give the bottle back to him. He takes another drink, and then he cups my cheek and leans over and when he kisses me he releases the whiskey from his mouth into mine, some of it trickling down over my chin, and it’s probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. I swallow it, and he strokes my neck and moves his mouth down, gently sucking the whiskey from my chin, moving lower, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses across my shoulder that send the most beautiful shiver coursing right through me. I’ve only got this man for one night, and I’m making the most of him, of this, I’m not going to waste a fucking second. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever have sex, like this, ever again, and I need to remember this ni
ght, and the things he’s done – the things he’s going to do to me.
He pushes me gently back into the mattress, pulls my legs up and open, and the groan that seeps out of me is low and deep as he pours a small drizzle of whiskey over my labia. It’s the strangest feeling, an almost burning sensation; hot and wet and, oh, God! He dips his head and his tongue starts to lick the whiskey off of me, flicking deftly over my clit, diving into a wetness exaggerated by the whiskey. I feel dirty and sexy and everything I’ve never felt before. I’ve got a handsome, quite obviously rich, naked stranger between my legs, licking me dry, and I just don’t do this. One-night stands? Never. Until now.
He lifts his head and slips a hand into the small of my back as he slides his body up over mine, and he kisses me, and he tastes of whiskey, and me. And I groan as he pushes my head back, his mouth landing on the base of my throat and I feel his cock pushing against me. His rigid, throbbing cock, and I almost cry out again in frustration. My head is a mess right now, all I can think about is what’s happening here, what this man is doing to me.
He pulls back slightly, and he rests his forehead against mine, his thumb stroking my cheek as he looks at me, right into my eyes, and as he does that he reaches down and opens me up with his fingers, pushing into me gently and carefully and I just let the long, low, drawn-out groan flood out of me. He’s a big man; his girth fills me to my limit now he’s fully inside me, and it hurts just a little as he thrusts deep and hard. But it’s a pain that soon gives way to a beautiful, overwhelming pleasure as he keeps pressure on the small of my back and angles my body in a way that means he touches a place within me that shoots a wave of something so intense through me that I can’t hold back the cry. It echoes off the walls, fills the room, and he does it again, puts my body in that same position, thrusts his cock hard into me and I feel him hit that spot once more. I feel my legs weaken, my head spin, and he keeps doing it, keeps pushing and thrusting and moving me around so I feel everything, I feel him, all of him – how does he do that? How does he know?
And it seems to go on for the most incredible amount of time, but then, I’ve lost all sense of reality here. He’s in control, and I’m fine with that. He’s working me, he’s inside me, he’s fixing me with this fuck and I am so okay with that. But when he finally explodes, when he comes and his cries fight against mine as he angles my hips one last time, bringing me to a crashing, mind-blowing orgasm that merges with his, it goes way beyond anything I’d ever imagined. I’d hoped he’d be good. I’d hoped he’d do the job I came here expecting him to do; the job I needed him to do. But he’s exceeded that. He’s taken me and ruined me and made me never want to have sex again because it’s never going to live up to this.
I’m exhausted, drained, and I ache all over. I’m sticky and wet and I just want to close my eyes and sleep but I can’t. I need to shower and go home. I need to get some rest because, now this is over, real-life is about to start surging forward again. In just a few hours’ time I start a new job at Cavendish King, and I can’t turn up there in last night’s clothes, smelling of bourbon, and sex. Great sex, though. Amazing sex.
“You okay?” He rolls off me and lies on his side next to me, propping himself up on one elbow.
I look at him, and I smile. But we both know where this is going now. “Can I use your shower?”
He nods, and he returns my smile, and I know he’s watching me as I slide out of bed and head into the bathroom. He has no idea what he’s done to me. How he’s notched up my confidence and helped me kick the shit I need to forget aside. Oh, it’ll probably all come crashing back down around me in a couple of hours, but I’m going to try so hard to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can.
I shower quickly and head back out into the bedroom. He’s dressed now, in jeans and a T-shirt and he looks different, somehow, all casual and messed up, but he’s still so freaking hot. But this man, he’s way out of my league. And even if he wasn’t, even if this situation was different, I don’t need or want relationships or commitment right now. I don’t need anything that could hurt me the way… No. I’m not going there. I’m not letting that ruin how tonight’s making me feel.
He turns and smiles at me as he hands me my dress. A gentleman to the end. He’s even retrieved my clothes from the living room floor.
“Here. Let me help with that.”
I step into my dress and turn around, and I close my eyes as he slowly zips me up, his mouth brushing over my shoulders as he does so, his fingers digging into my upper arms and I feel a million goose bumps break out all over my skin.
And then he steps back, and I reach down to find my shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed as I slip them on, fastening the thin green straps around my ankles.
I’m surprised by how comfortable I still feel in his company, even though the whole reason for my coming here, that’s done now. It’s over. He’s served his purpose, and I’ve served mine. But he isn’t making me feel like I need to hightail it out of his apartment right this second, even though I have to. I need to get home. I need at least a couple of hours sleep.
I stand up and brush myself down and I start to walk toward the door, but he lays a hand on my arm as I pass him, stopping me in my tracks.
“I’ll get my driver to take you home.”
I look at him. He really is the most incredibly attractive man, and just remembering what we did not fifteen minutes ago, it sends one last warm shiver up my spine. “I can take a cab. I’m fine.”
“You start a new job in the morning.”
“You remembered that, huh?”
He smiles again, digging both hands into his pockets as he briefly drops his gaze. “You need to get home safely. You need to get some sleep. You need to be ready. For tomorrow.”
I look at my watch, and when I look back up his eyes are locked on mine. “It already is tomorrow.”
“All the more reason why you need to get home quickly.”
I cock my head slightly, my eyes still fixed on his. “I don’t even know your name. I mean, we did all of that and… and I don’t even know your name.”
“You don’t need to.”
“You don’t know mine.”
“It’s better that way.”
Maybe he’s right. This is what it is, nothing else. “Okay.” I smile, and he returns it, and then he leans in to me and he kisses me one last time. A goodbye kiss. And I take it and enjoy it because I’m never going to see this man again.
“I’ll make sure my driver’s outside. Tell him where you need to go and he’ll take you home. Oh, and good luck. For tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
I pull away from him, and I turn and walk into the living room without looking back.
And I’m smiling…
Three
Lola
I’m good at what I do. No. I’m great at what I do. But sometimes I wonder if that was part of the problem. Is that what helped turn every other aspect of my life to crap? Because I couldn’t leave work behind and concentrate on him? Was that the reason why he did what he did, why he hurt me that way?
I close my eyes for a second and breathe in deep as the elevator doors open out onto the 43rd floor of the Cavendish King building. This is where Evan King – one of the managing partners – has his office. My new boss.
Did I get much sleep last night? This morning, sorry. No. Not really. For the first hour back home I had to fend off Kat and her questions, none of which she’s had answered yet. And she’s not in the best of moods with me because of that, so I’m gearing myself up for the full-on interrogation later. But sleep? No. I couldn’t sleep. So many things kept racing through my head, it was never going to happen.
I step off the elevator with a confidence that belies the nerves building up in the pit of my stomach, and I stop and take another deep breath. I just need to relax a little. I can do this job with my eyes shut, what the hell have I got to be nervous about?
“You okay there?”
I turn to see
a friendly-looking woman with a cascade of dark curls come out of a glass-fronted office to my left, clutching an armful of files close to her chest.
“Yes, sorry, I’m fine, I just – I start work here today. I’m Evan King’s new secretary?”
“You’re Lola?”
She’s made me feel at ease instantly. At least they’re expecting me. I haven’t done something really stupid like turn up on the wrong day.
“Yes, I’m Lola. Lola Burrows.”
“Good to meet you, Lola. Evan’s office is just down here, come on. I’ll walk with you. I’m going that way. Oh, and I’m Jess. Jess Carter. I’m a junior partner here at Cavendish King.”
I smile my thanks and fall into step beside her. The offices of Cavendish King are ultra-modern, super-smart, and somewhat intimidating. A complete contrast to the last place I worked, which was way more formal. Glass-fronted offices line the wide, bright space I’m walking along, the carpet underneath my heels a dark shade of beige; everything and everyone here just seems to ooze style and success, and as I glance over at Jess I can’t help but notice her elegant cream pencil skirt and slightly darker cream shirt. She may well be a lawyer but she could easily pass for a model, and then I glance down at the curve-hugging dark-gray dress and black heels I’m wearing. They cost me nothing short of an eye-watering amount of money, and I think I can pull off elegance as well as the next woman but, hey, I guess I’m just not feeling like I’ve been here long enough to fit in just yet. I need to quit with the negativity, though. I need to hold my head up and believe I can do this because this job – it’s going to help me move on. Last night, sex with a handsome stranger, that was just the first step. The real journey begins here.
“That accent… Manchester, north west England… am I right?”
Lawfully His (A Dirty Business Novel Book 1) Page 2