Con Man: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance

by Amy Brent

  And I was alright with that.

  I didn’t want to let him go, nor did I want him to feel as if he had to choose. I understood the passion and burning desire to own your company, and to see it flourish under your leadership, and I would never rip that from him. If anything, I supported what he was trying to do, even though I didn’t like being relegated to the shadows.

  Especially when I had to go an entire week without so much as catching his gaze during the work day.

  We clicked so well. Our senses of humor were the same and our life experiences seemed to line up. For every story I told him he had one of a similar taste, and I loved getting to know the man behind the money. Even though he owned his own multibillion dollar real estate development company, he still had dreams and aspirations. He had dreams and goals for this luxury resort he was building, but he also had personal dreams. Places he wanted to visit, simply so he could exist in them, and cliffs he wanted to stand on while looking out at the ocean. I found that the big, bad Ellison James had a side to him that was hopelessly romantic, and it made me smile whenever I thought about it.

  His surprise trip to the Bahamas showed me how fun and adventurous he was. The dinner where he declared the fact that he wanted to try and make this something real was the picture perfect setting. The sunset, the luscious foods, the light breeze, the ocean battering against the legs of the terrace. I could still remember how beautiful the reflection of the painted colors of the sunset was in his eyes while I tried to decipher whether or not he was being serious, and I could remember the feeling of elation and relief when I realized he was.

  He was being serious.

  Even though we had only seen each other once since that trip, that didn’t mean he was taking a step back. I had come home Tuesday evening after a late night of data entry in the office to a delivery of savory food from the four-star restaurant up the street. There had been an insulated box sitting at my doorstep with a bottle of wine accompanied by a letter he’d written to ‘Charles’.

  Then, I came home the next day to a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting outside of my door also addressed to ‘Charles’.

  Each day was something new as I came home from work, and it became sort of a game between the two of us. I’d find myself getting distracted, wondering what in the world he was going to leave me next. Maybe it would be chocolates, or my favorite type of pizza. Maybe it would be another surprise trip, or airline tickets whisking us away to one of the places he had talked about.

  But, when I came home Wednesday evening, there was a dress hanging on my doorknob with a note that wasn’t addressed to anyone.

  L had hand-delivered this gift, and the note had been inscribed by him.

  “Charlie, find something nice to match this dress. Tomorrow night, you’re my surprise. L”

  So, I’d called in sick on Friday in order to go lingerie shopping. I had ducked into every store Miami had to offer, trying to find something that would match the beautiful silky fabric the dress had to offer. It was a dark red, off the shoulder dress that tumbled all the way to my feet and hiked my tits up to my chin. It was definitely a dress that would show off my body to L, so I wanted to make sure the spicy lingerie underneath did the exact same thing.

  I ended up finding a strapless bra and lacy panty set that was the same crimson red as the dress, and I tried my hardest to contain my excitement before I went home that evening to prepare. I had no idea what L had in mind or where in the world he would be taking me in such an eye-catching dress, but at 7 PM sharp—after waiting for almost an hour—there was a knock at my door.

  That night was when I had found out exactly how romantic Ellison James was. He was at my door with a small overnight bag and his body was clad in a muscle-hugging suit that had me drooling the moment I opened the door.

  But, the way his eyes scanned my body, I could tell he wasn’t even aware of the way I was looking at him.

  “Holy shit, you look incredible,” he said. “I have wonderful taste.”

  He’d come into the room and set his bag on the couch, but when he opened his bag he didn’t pull out clothes. Instead, he pulled out a very old CD player, complete with a disc inside of smooth, beautiful jazz tunes.

  “Care to dance?” he asked.

  He took my hand and led me to the middle of my apartment, then pulled me into his body. His arm wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me to him while we danced alone. His eyes twinkled down at me while we swayed in each other’s arms, and I simply got lost in the romance of it all. Here was this powerful man, who could have any woman he wanted and dance with her anywhere he chose, public or private, but where he wanted to be was pressed against my body in the middle of my tiny apartment.

  I felt safe with him. For the first time in my entire dating existence, I felt safe in the arms of the man I was with. I pressed my cheek into his chest and felt him kiss the top of my head, but the calm sensuality didn’t stay that way for long.

  Our Thursday night was punctuated with groans and sighs while my lips wrapped around his cock. I teased him, over and over again, squeezing his orgasm back with my hand before I’d suck him right back to the top. By the time I was ready to let him cum, his balls hung to low they tickled his own ass crack and the tip of his dick was raging blue.

  And he was begging.

  But, he dished what I did, and by the time I was ready to flood his tongue with my juices I was sweating onto the bed. He’d peeled every single piece of clothing off my skin before he’d teased me to the edge. I’d rode his face, bucked into his fingers, and even felt him press his pinky into my asshole. My body shook and writhed with need while the sweat dripped down every crevice of my body. I was so frustrated with his teasing that tears were running down the sides of my face, and it wasn’t until he heard me sniffle that he finally granted me the release I had been looking for.

  I had to slap a pillow over my face just so I could roar his name as loudly as I wanted.

  Ellison James was the perfect mixture of romance and adventure. The way he spoiled me was never by treating me to decadent things, but simply executing small gestures to let me know I was on his mind. The way his body could manipulate mine melted me into a puddle at his feet with every swipe of his tongue, and every time I wrapped my fingertips in his hair the burning truth of my reality would sear itself onto the backs of my eyelids.

  I didn’t want to let Ellison James go.

  And I knew that spelled trouble for us both.

  Chapter 21

  Ellison

  I told Charlie to keep away from me at the office for a little while, but it turned out to be harder than I’d anticipated. I knew our tans would give us away if we were seen together much, but I missed seeing her around. There were moments where I’d look over at my secretary and see a new file sitting there untouched, and I’d know that Charlie had been by. I’d sit there, trying to imagine what she may have looked like or what she would have been wearing. Maybe she was in one of her pencil skirts and a tit-blasting top, or maybe she was in a nice dress that playfully hid those succulent hips from my view.

  But, every single time I saw a new folder sitting untouched on my secretary’s desk, it would give me an idea. Even though I couldn’t risk seeing her this week in the office, that didn’t mean she had to go around wondering if I was thinking about her.

  So, I started sending things to her home. I couldn’t address them to ‘Charlie,’ so I started addressing her gifts as ‘Charles,’ In my mind at the time, sending gifts to some dude I could pawn off as a sick employee would be easier to explain than ‘Charlie,’ especially since Charlie was making such an impression in the eyes of corporate already. I’d rather have to explain how some guy I knew was sick or something rather than try to babble my way through why someone named ‘Charlie’ was getting my gifts.

  I knew I was being paranoid, but I had to be. What I had with her was too precious to risk over using her name.

  I sent her flowers, chocolates and dinner. I sent
her wine, letters and trinkets. But, my personal favorite was the dress I personally hung on her door Wednesday afternoon. I’d taken a long lunch and had been passing by a shop when I saw a dress that simply screamed Charlie. It was subdued, but sexy, steeped in this rich color of red that reminded me of that hair I loved to wrap my hand in when she was sucking my cock.

  I felt myself growing in my pants just imagining her in it, and by the time I came to I was writing her a letter to accompany the dress before I rushed to hang it on her door.

  Thursday night ended up being one of the most passionate evenings we had shared together so far, but it wasn’t my favorite. Sex with Charlie was always incredible. The way she wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked the life from it was astounding, but the way she edged me that night had me begging for her to release me. Never in my life had a woman ever made me beg, but by the time her lips were done, I would’ve said just about anything in order to cum down that sweet throat of hers.

  But, she didn’t have to worry. I could dish out exactly what she gave, and by the time I was done with her she was a sweating, snotty, crying mess.

  A mess I scooped into my arms to hold while she trembled against my body.

  Charlie plagued my thoughts. She was pragmatic and uncomplicated. Simple in a way that made her elegant. Every time I shared a story with her, she had one to shoot back, and it allowed me to slowly peel back the layers of the astute businesswoman I employed in order to see the cheeky woman underneath. I found out that she had a bit of a competitive streak while she talked with me about things she would do with her company, and she playfully began juxtaposing things I didn’t do with things she would.

  She had some wonderful ideas, and I found myself looking forward to her competition in the future.

  It was that story that actually led me to our favorite outing that week. Yes, Thursday night had been incredible, but Tuesday night we had gone bowling. There was a bowling alley 45 minutes across town that was tucked between two rundown buildings, and I knew no one from work would be caught dead there doing anything. The beer was horrible and I wasn’t going to even attempt to touch their food, but it was easy to coax Charlie’s competitive streak out from within that beautiful body of hers.

  “You know, I’m a fabulous bowler,” she said.

  “Oh, really? And just how fabulous are you?” I asked.

  “Fabulous enough to know I’m gonna beat you,” she said, smirking.

  “Well, what you don’t know is that I’ve been bowling since I was sixteen years old,” I said.

  “Hah! Been bowling since I was twelve. It was actually how I bonded with my father,” she said.

  “Do you feel confident enough to bet on our final scores?” I asked.

  “Oh, most definitely. What are the stakes?” she asked.

  “Loser gets to give the winner whatever sexual thing they desire. Tonight,” I said.

  “Oh, you are so on. Be prepared to declare yourself the loser, L.”

  Honestly, I wanted to lose. I’d been watching her bend over all night in those tight ass jeans she wore. Her shirt kept creeping up on her and her tits would bounce every time she pulled them up, but I found that I didn’t have to let her win in order for it to happen. Most of the shots she took were strikes, and by the time the final score was calculated she was a solid 50 points ahead of me.

  “Suck on that, L,” she said.

  “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” I said, chuckling.

  “Now, it’s time to pay up. My muscles have been a bit achy, so I hope you’ve got some lotion or oil around somewhere,” she said.

  “Massage?” I asked.

  “Full body,” she said, grinning.

  We found ourselves crossing town back to her place where I soon had her skin underneath my fingertips. I found some lotion she had stored away in her bathroom, and I started at her neck and slowly trickled down her body. I paid close attention to her beautiful, perky tits before I slid my hands down her stomach, and she whimpered when I skipped her beautiful pussy and massaged my way down her legs.

  I made her flip over and I massaged her entire back, feeling her relax underneath my ministrations while her skin reddened at my touch. Her whispered moans made my cock hard, and I knew if I wanted to take her from behind right here in her bed she would be a willing partner.

  But, I wanted this to be about her. I wanted to see her climax and feel her silky juices on my tongue.

  When I was done with her she was wiggling and panting. There was a small wet spot where she had been grinding her hips into the bed, and I slowly helped her to flip back over before I pressed my tongue directly into her clit. I wasted no time teasing her because the two-hour massage did exactly that for her, and by the time I had worked up a steady rhythm her chest was flushing with desperation.

  The way my name fell from her lips while her clit pulsed against my tongue is an experience that would forever be etched into my memory.

  Being with Charlie was nothing short of existential. It was as if her entire presence ripped me from my world, tossing me into another one where nothing existed except the two of us. Never in my life had I ever experienced the type of euphoria I got from her when she smiled at me, and that’s probably why I found myself standing in front of a jewelry shop after our exotic evening of dancing and sweating. Both evenings held a side of her I adored—the bowling showed her charisma for competition, and the dancing showed her craving for romance—and I would make sure to indulge both of those sides of her frequently.

  Honestly.

  Openly.

  Whenever I could.

  I was on my way to a property spec meeting Thursday morning. There was nothing special about the morning except for fresh memories of the night before. I could still feel Charlie’s cheek pressed against my chest, and it was as if her scent still tickled my nose. My eyes drifted along the onyx necklaces and the emerald earrings, but eventually settled on the rings displayed in the window.

  The twinkling diamond rings reminded me of the way the sweat had shone on her body the night before.

  I found myself wanting to purchase one, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. Had things progressed that quickly between us? Was I actually considering getting her one of these? That was a massive fucking step in the world of relationships, especially since it had been less than a week since I’d presented the notion that I wanted to be in one with her.

  Could I actually take it to that level without it ruining both of our professional reputations?

  Engagement was public. It was a public affair with a visible sign that could not be denied. If I presented her with a diamond ring and promised her forever, it would only be a matter a time— and not very much time—before people began linking the two of us together. The idea of spending forever with Charlie put a smile on my cheeks, but the idea of going public with it sent a cold chill down my spine.

  What I was doing to her was wrong. Giving her a man who was in love with her, yet unattainable in public, was wrong. This wasn’t a step we could take. There was no way we could ever take our relationship to this kind of level without it ruining one—or both—of our lives.

  She deserved better than that.

  And as I ripped myself from the jewelry display window, it confirmed in my head what I would eventually have to do.

  Chapter 22

  Charlie

  Our beautiful night of dancing and passion woke me up early Friday morning. I kept dreaming about his body and all the things we had done to one another, and a wild thought popped into my mind. This entire week since we’d gotten back from the Bahamas, L had been treating me to things. All the deliveries, dinners, bottles of wine, flowers, chocolates, even a dress, not to mention the salacious ministrations with his tongue. Every single thing had been initiated by him, no doubt wanting to make sure I knew he was thinking of me.

  But, I had done nothing in return to show that I was thinking of him.

  I went to work that morning and did some discr
eet research on my personal phone. I looked up things in the area we could do that were private and within my budget, and I found private boats I could rent by the hour. L was always shelling out his big billionaire bucks to whisk me away and buy me all these rich foods and decadent dresses, so I figured I could dip into my savings just this once and treat him to something he would never forget.

  I booked the boat on my phone and paid it through the night before I took out my burner phone and shot L a message.

  MBM. 6 o’clock.

  I was hoping he would understand that ‘MBM’ stood for Miami Beach Marina and that I wanted him there promptly at 6. I didn’t get a message back from him, so I wasn’t even sure if he’d checked his phone today, but I hurried through my work anyway and was walking out of the office by 4:30. I had a dinner to purchase and pack before I could take a shower and get myself ready for the evening. The boat was going to be taking us out onto the ocean and we would be enjoying a picnic dinner underneath the setting sun.

  Just the two of us alongside a captain and first mate who I’d specifically instructed to keep to the bridge.

  I dressed in a flowing dress and slid on a pair of flip flops before I grabbed the cooler of food and drinks. I wanted to get there a few minutes early and make sure everything was set up, then I stood there and waited as 6 o’clock slowly rolled around. I wrung my hands in nervous anticipation while I kept my burner phone tucked into my bra. I still hadn’t heard from L at all that day, but the moment his body crested the steps of the dock I felt my skin crawl with excitement.