Good Girl's Bad Lessons

by Carmen Falcone

  Nico let out an exasperated sigh, looking both ways, and saw just a sea of people greeting one another or searching for their seats. His heart quickened, and the image of his mother running to him in the backyard filled with rare, beautiful bois dentelle plants unraveled in his mind. He blinked twice, his pulse still out of control. What the fuck was happening?

  He’d come all the way here to have a panic attack?

  He’d come all the way here to lose?

  He ran his fingers down his face. No. Never. He’d get to the bottom of this mess.

  “Nico,” he heard a female voice call. A female voice he recognized and spiked his heart rate for an entirely different reason.

  He turned around, and Emma waved at him. She stood next to Desmorais and his assistant. Stretching to his full height, he strode over to them with his natural confidence restored. Whatever misunderstanding happened earlier, now was a great time to put it behind him—with Emma, who spoke French and knew Desmorais. He’d question her later, but not while Desmorais stood before him. He’d never miss the opportunity to continue as planned, even if he didn’t trust her anymore.

  She said something in quick French, then touched his tie and smiled. “Nico, please meet Angele Desmorais. I was just telling him how we’re excited about the fund-raiser.”

  Nico stretched out his hand, and Desmorais glanced at it for an uncomfortable stretch of time until his assistant whispered something in another language. At last, Desmorais shook his hand, his brown eyes squinting.

  Nico stared him in the eyes, not letting the man’s disdain unsettle him. “Pleasure.”

  Desmorais gave him a reluctant slow nod, then quickly withdrew his hand. He exchanged a few sentences with Emma and spun around. She responded in French, to which he glared at Nico, and muttered a, “Oui.”

  As he and his assistant moved along to greet other people, Emma turned to Nico. “No wonder you needed help. He doesn’t like you.” She whistled, hands perched at her waist.

  “Why? What could I ever have done to him?” Had he been too overbearing in the past when he’d tried to establish some rapport? Perhaps Desmorais’s lawyer had influenced his mind against Nico. But why?

  “I don’t know. He had invited me for a lunch at his place in three days, and just now I asked him if I could bring you, and he sort of begrudgingly agreed.”

  Nico gritted his teeth. “Great.” When was the last time he had to impress anyone? Most people he dealt with knew him, his power and influence. They went out of their way to gain his approval, but Desmorais didn’t bow to any man. “I just met him tonight. I was making a joke about lapdogs with a friend I ran into, when he approached me.”

  She frowned, angling closer. “Lapdogs? What did you say?”

  “James mentioned something about me being a lapdog because I brought my girlfriend here, and I said lapdogs are for suckers. Something about handing over your balls on a tray. Why?”

  “Didn’t you know? Desmorais loves small doggies. He’s rescued a bunch of them and keeps them in his home. It’s his passion.”

  Oh shit. He ran his hand down his face, cursing himself. One stupid joke and the man clearly hated his guts. “How could I know anything about him? He’s so reserved, and personal views on animals aren’t on the top of my priority list.” Besides, all he’d paid his corporate investigator to discover had been about financial crap, which had been a disappointment. If Desmorais had been in any kind of difficulty, the man wouldn’t think twice about selling a property well over market value. Yet his portfolio was strong. Too strong.

  She tapped his arm. “Well, there you have it. You insulted his dogs and implied he’s not a real man because he likes them. Can’t you tell lunch with him at his house, surrounded by his pets, will be a joy?”

  The animals. Now what James had said made even more sense. He jerked away from her, knowing full well her touch only made him less focused. “You know what else will be a joy? When you explain to me why you didn’t tell me he intends to turn the same fucking property I want to buy into a sanctuary,” he said, his voice low but merciless. “With your help.”

  Her face paled. She glanced around them and then angled closer. “Nico, I couldn’t tell you. I signed a nondisclosure agreement, like I do on every project with Desmorais.”

  How ironic that Elton was willing to run his mouth, but she had to be all high and mighty about it. He shook his head, anger washing over him. “This is different. You knew my goal. I agreed only to—”

  She lifted her chin and perched her hands on her waist. “To fuck me in exchange for an introduction to Desmorais. I have, and I secured you a lunch with him. Who’s to say you can’t go and change his mind? You told me yourself you’re a good negotiator.”

  “That’s not the point. I shouldn’t have learned about this from an acquaintance.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to stand my ground. I was conflicted over this, but I’m still holding my end of the bargain. I was contracted to be the project manager of a sanctuary, but that job won’t start for another couple of months. I’ll be the translator for the professionals I bring from the U.S. There.” She angled her head to one side. “That’s all I know.”

  “Did you tell him about my wanting to buy his home?”

  “No. I didn’t tell him anything about our deal. He believes you’re my boyfriend.”

  She stared into his eyes, and his stomach curled like he’d received a blow. Despite the honesty leaking from her voice, her eyes hid a secret. He should have yanked his gaze away, but instead, he contemplated the fiery specks of gold outlining her pupils, which darkened to a matte brown. Fear.

  Was she that scared he wouldn’t fulfill his end of their deal? Was she that scared she wouldn’t have the tools she thought she needed to win back her fiancé? Tension stiffened his back. Perhaps after having lost her father and brother, she craved a familial relationship. She didn’t want to break up with the man who’d given her the dream of a family of her own.

  Nico sighed. Just because he didn’t believe in the same dream she had, didn’t mean he wouldn’t honor his word. His shoulders relaxed. “Fine. I believe you,” he said, even though deep down he wasn’t sure.

  …

  Emma removed her shoes and tossed them to the side. The regal presidential suite they occupied seemed a lot colder now. Ever since the fund-raiser from hell, Nico had been quieter than usual. Was he discouraged by Desmorais’s dismissive attitude? Or did he just hate her after he’d found out about her omission?

  Nico walked into the closet, where the hotel maid had already unpacked their clothes. He removed his clothes, then, naked as if this was everyday business, he headed to the shower. A cloud of steam swirled out the door of the bathroom, which he didn’t unlock.

  She sat on the curvy chair and played with the ends of her hair. A part of her wanted to join him in the shower. They weren’t in a real relationship—she didn’t have to offer to talk to him, and she doubted he enjoyed deep personal conversations.

  And as for sex…

  She stood. She didn’t have the confidence he did to remove her clothes and parade around naked for no good reason. He didn’t need to worry about cellulite or unflattering lighting.

  When he exited the bathroom she cleared her throat. Her heart slammed against her rib cage like she’d just finished a Zumba class. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Nico made his way to her. The green in his eyes darkened, and his muscles shifted and bunched as he moved.

  Damn it. She sucked in a breath and attempted, with no success, to tear her gaze from his washboard abs. “So did you, um, use all the hot water?”

  A delicious smile formed on his handsome face. “We need to work on your pre-sex game, Emma. It’s weak.”

  You know what else is weak? My knees. “All right, boss. Or should I say professor?”

  “Professor has a different subject tonight,” he said, removing his towel so it fell on the floor. Her throat grew thick and dry, and a tremor surged through he
r, from top to bottom. Whatever he wanted to teach her, she was down with learning. Mastering it, even. “On your knees, sweet face.”

  She kneeled before him, his ginormous cock within a breath of her face. Entranced, she parted her lips and bobbed her head forward, motioning to take it in her mouth.

  “Eager, aren’t you?” he said, stepping back, his voice strained.

  A wave of warmth moved across her cheeks. “I’ve always been a straight A student.”

  “Good. Because if you master this, any man will go crazy for you. Which means…patience.”

  She glanced up at him, noticing the dark gleam in his eyes. She could feel her pearly essence coating her folds, her thighs getting damp and sticky. The idea of driving him crazy for a change played in her mind like an old-fashioned record.

  “First, you want to entice. Lick my cock with the tip of your tongue, running it up and down.”

  She followed his request, tracing her tongue along his dick, feeling the powerful rush of blood in his veins. He groaned and, encouraged, she intensified the laps of her tongue at his rod, then stopped at the tip.

  “Good girl. Play with my balls with the other hand.”

  She cupped his heavy, full balls and squeezed them gently, earning a little growl from him. She’d always thought of oral sex as a sometimes-needed foreplay, a task to be checked. Never did she feel compelled to really enjoy the moment and stretch it for as long as possible. And now, just looking at his gorgeous, perfect cock sent a thrill down her spine.

  Who knew pleasuring him would excite her, too? She longed for it to be in her mouth, filling her and, unable to wait a second longer, she took it inside, sucking, loving that velvety skin and the hardness of his rod.

  “Emma,” he called in such a hoarse tone she didn’t know if he praised her or cursed her. Maybe a little bit of both.

  She cupped his balls one more time, then brought both hands to his cock, encircling it as she sucked most of it, as much as she could manage, in and out of her mouth.

  “Move your hand in the same direction as your mouth,” he said, throwing back his head.

  She followed his request and intensified her bringing him into and out of her mouth. Her clit throbbed with need, and she clenched her thighs together, but her attempt at cooling her desire only fueled the fire.

  She swirled her tongue over his leaky tip, savoring the salty jism. Then she licked the sensitive slit in the middle. This, this exploring his most sexual part caused a flutter of female empowerment through her. She was making him lose his head—she, Emma Cavanaugh, not anyone else.

  “Emma…”

  She slipped her hands behind his legs and onto his ass, finding the perfect position for them. She clasped his firm cheeks, her fingers scratching his flesh, and he thrust his cock deeper into her throat. Deeper.

  She relaxed her throat muscles in an attempt to fit him completely. He withdrew halfway and returned it, faster. His engorged rod slipped in and out of her mouth, each time hitting the back of her throat. A rush of adrenaline bolted down her body, and she looked up at him, unsure if she should or not. She wanted to see, play by play, her effect on him.

  She lifted her gaze and found him staring at her with a mysterious glint in his eyes. A small, almost unnoticeable smile formed at the corners of his lips. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and a blazing heat filled her heart. Her common sense warned her in a wavering voice to look away, to lessen the passionate energy passing between their stare. But crap, she couldn’t.

  He continued fucking her mouth, and she touched his balls again. They were tighter than before. He thrust his fingers into her hair, his strong hand kneading her scalp and sending a charged awareness all the way to her toes. “So good, Emma. I can’t—”

  She squeezed his balls gently, and whoa, that did it. She withdrew his cock halfway only to return with a vengeance, the shaking of his legs warning her of what was about to happen. Without hesitation, she took him, his seed, still playing with his balls with one hand and caressing the back of his knee with the other.

  An animalistic sound filled the air as he emptied himself into her mouth. When he disengaged from her, she inhaled. She fought the wobbliness of her knees and surged to her feet, her eyes searching his.

  She expected him to crack a joke about her passing the oral exam with flying colors, but he surprised her. Without a single word, he sat at the edge of the bed and glanced at the floor. With flushed cheeks and sweat glistening on his arms and legs, he sucked in a breath.

  She scratched the back of her neck. When he finally peered at her, his eyes darkened, and his spine locked into place. Her gut clenched, and she knew she’d done a good job—knew it because he acted like her performance brought more of an inconvenience than a successful teaching lesson. Her pulse skittered, and she nodded to herself. Turned out she had a thing or two to teach him, too.

  Chapter Eight

  “Wow. This is stunning. I have no words,” Emma shouted.

  Nico locked his rental car and caught up to her, as she contemplated the white sandy beach. A line of coconut trees separated the long beach from the parking lot, and the sun shone on the tantalizing blue ocean.

  If Desmorais had agreed to have lunch sooner than three days’ time, he’d be a lot happier. Not that he’d minded sightseeing with Emma, but this whole thing turned out to be a lot more complicated. They shared a suite, they spent the day together, they fucked. Too much togetherness.

  After all, if he persuaded Desmorais to sell him the house, what if the volatile man resented her in the end? Even if he agreed with Nico’s well-above-market and crazy-generous offer…Desmorais could find another place to take his sanctuary. But would he keep her as his project manager?

  Too many questions. Nico shouldn’t care about anything other than his goal. The last time he’d had this kind of concern for someone of the opposite sex, it’d been Linda. Linda, whom he’d almost believed could make him change his ways. Linda, who had drained him of everything he had to give, but in the end he hadn’t—

  “Take off your shoes. It’s awesome,” she said, carrying her flip-flops.

  He removed his sandals and walked alongside her in silence. A white cover-up concealed her body, and he wondered if she’d worn the sexy bikini Veronica had showed her. His balls stirred, memories from the previous night stabbing in his mind. She’d given him so much pleasure, and—

  “Why are you frowning?” she asked. “It doesn’t match the surroundings. I mean, look at the white sand, Nico.”

  He glanced around them and had to admit she had a point. As a child, the beach usually took his breath away. He’d loved running on the sand while his mother chased him—laughing, happy.

  Those days… A lump of sadness lodged in his throat. Those days were good enough for him. Her schizophrenia had come out after Marco’s difficult birth. The doctors had explained that in a lot of cases very stressful events triggered the disease. Even then, one of the maids who helped raise him confided in him she’d seen glimpses of it before his mother had been pregnant with Marco. Maybe his father and other family members had chosen not to notice.

  Either way, even during dark days, the lightness of the beach helped tamp down the illness. Those had been easier times, much before her downfall, her death, and the discovery of the family secret he’d bottled up inside but still shook him to this very day.

  “I was thinking maybe today we should spend some time apart.” He cleared his throat, looking away from her. “I have some business to take care of, and I’m sure you can find some places to visit on your own,” he said, then stared at her again, managing to look nonchalant.

  The disappointment in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms, to hug her and never let go. Her shoulders dropped a notch, and she shook her head slowly, perhaps cursing him in silence. Any man in his right mind would rearrange his fucking schedule to spend more time with her, but he wasn’t a regular man—and the sooner he reminded himself and her of it, the better. S
he’d understand in the end, he meant to protect her, even if he hurt her along the way.

  “Of course, I totally get it,” she said, then gave him a small smile.

  “It’s nothing personal, but—

  She lifted her hand, gesturing for him to stop talking. “I get it, Nico. I’m a big girl. Listen, if you want to be alone even now, I can find a way to get a ride back to the hotel. This beach will keep me busy, and I need a tan.”

  “No, I won’t allow you to find your way back by yourself,” he said. She shrugged, and her voice seemed casual, but his gut told him he’d probably hurt her in some way. Crap.

  “It’s not a big deal. I speak the language, and my cell phone works here. I’ll be fine.”

  “Emma, it’s not you, it’s me,” he said, using one of the most clichéd lines on the planet. Didn’t make it less true, though.

  The cry of a young child made him turn around. A boy wearing swim trunks and nothing else, about six years old, ran in their direction, wailing, his arms moving in tandem with his legs.

  “What happened?” she asked, striding in the direction of the boy.

  “Help,” the boy called, trembling. “I’m lost.”

  Fuck. Nico reached into the backpack she’d insisted on bringing and produced a towel. Without wasting time, he kneeled and wrapped it around the kid. His heart squeezed; he didn’t know what it was like to be lost at a beach, but he’d experienced feeling lost far too often as a child. He knew what it was like to not know his place, even when people pointed it out to him.

  Emma touched the kid’s wet brown hair and leaned over to him, her voice soothing. “It’s okay. We’ll help you. It’s okay,” she repeated.

  “Do you know where your parents were?” Nico asked, standing. “What part of the beach?”

  “That way,” the boy said, pointing in the direction he’d been running from. He had an English accent, which hinted he was probably a tourist. “We were playing hide and seek, and I found some rocks between the coconut trees. I kept a few of them, and when I looked for my parents, I couldn’t find them anymore,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks.