She smiles. “I can be as bossy as you want as long as you punish me when I need it.”
I stalk her like the prey she is. “Oh, I’ll punish you, all right.”
She giggles as we rush into the elevator, and we barely make it to my apartment. Tearing each other’s clothes off, we’re naked before the door closes behind us.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Maggie moans as I bury my face between her glorious tits.
“I promise to show you many times tonight how much I missed you.”
I run my finger down her slit. Maggie curves her back so her hips push up into me. Her eyes stay on mine, her mouth open, eager. I glide my finger across her pussy, so wet and pink and mine—mine to play with, mine to please. I dip my finger inside her, and she lets out a moan. I pump inside her before slipping my finger out and giving her clit some attention. Her face flashes with passion, and I know she’s going to start begging me soon for more. I love that she always needs more.
She reaches down between our bodies and takes me in her hand. God, her hand—so small but so assured on my dick. I slip my finger back inside her pussy, and she pumps me at the same tempo I do her—matching me, showing me she can take it if I can.
I’m not actually sure my body can take it. I fall to the bed beside her, fingers and hands still in place. Face to face, we work each other, our breath mingling in the small space between us.
We belong together. Now and forever. We’ve weathered a big storm and come out even stronger. Nothing is going to stop us now.
Epilogue
Jonathan
“Detective Kincaid is here to see you,” Travis says over the phone.
I’m watching my favorite group of high-rolling poker players entranced by their latest private game. They were here for the baby shower earlier today, so we figured, why not? It’s early, but they’re already getting the big guns out. They’ve gotten used to playing together now, so the gloves are off.
“I’m all in, plus I’m adding my fifty-acre ranch on Maui that overlooks the North Shore. It’s worth twenty-one million,” Viviana Prentis announces.
Three players fold, and Jackson Graham studies her. “I’ll see your bet and add my Lear jet that seats twenty-two people and is also worth twenty-one million.”
Viviana turns over four Jacks and an Ace high. “Can you beat this?”
There’s a collective intake of breath before he puts his cards down.
“I believe my straight flush does beat four aces.”
The room erupts. It’s only the first night, and we’re at complete pandemonium.
I walk out, chuckling to myself. These guys have too much money. I spot Detective Kincaid just down the hallway and extend my hand. “Good to see you, Detective.”
“I understand all the players are back this weekend?”
“Yes, they’re playing poker right now. In fact, you just missed one of the players losing a fifty-acre ranch on Maui.”
“Definitely too rich for my blood.” He looks at me. “There’s been a development in the Cecelia Lancaster case.”
“Nate’s not playing tonight.”
He was at the baby shower earlier, but he didn’t feel like gambling.
“We’ve already spoken to him, but I’d like to update the rest of the group.”
I nod. I assume we’re all suspects, but he isn’t willing to tell us that outright. “Come with me.”
He joins me as we re-enter the room.
“This is quite the view,” he says, looking out at the fountains.
The group is on a break, but it seems all of them are still here. “Everyone, there’s been a development in the Cecelia Lancaster case.”
The room immediately quiets down and everyone stares at us.
“Hello to all of you,” the detective says. “I’m Detective Kincaid with the Las Vegas Police. I need to let you know we’ve found Cecelia Lancaster.”
“Why don’t you look happy about that?” Christopher asks.
Detective Kincaid sighs. “She’s in the morgue. We’ll have an autopsy done, but it appears she was murdered.”
Note from Ainsley
Hello Reader,
Thank you so much for reading House of Cards. It means the world to me. I really loved creating this book and developing the start of what I hope you find is an intriguing series. It’s beyond fun!
As a special gift to my VIP mail subscribers, I’ve written a bonus novella, Gifted to share with you about Jim and his love, Kate. Just a small disclaimer-it’s pretty racy and a fun story. If you want to join Ainsley’s Naughty Readers use this link https://dl.bookfunnel.com/zi378x4ybx. This novella is only free to my subscribers!
If you’re interested you can sign up here. VIP mailing list. If you were already a subscriber and look for the release email of the book that there will be a link attached for the ebook!
Keep on reading for a short excerpt of Royally Flushed Jackson Graham and Corrine Woods, my next Tech Billionaires book. And excerpts from Forbidden Love, the first book that started it all with the Venture Capitalist.
Thanks again for reading my book. I could not do this without you!
XOXO,
Ainsley
Sneak Peak
Royally Flushed
Book 2 Tech Billionaire
A Preview
by
Ainsley St Claire
Chapter 1
Corrine
“What do you mean, he broke up with you on the news?” my best friend, Gabby, screeches.
Heads turn all along the bar to see what she’s so worked up about, and I can feel my face turning red.
She’s been dating her boyfriend for a little over a year and they’re planning a wedding.
I look down and feel tears forming in my eyes. “I got home late last night from work. I was watching a rerun of NCIS and eating popcorn for dinner. A news teaser about him came on, so I stayed up to watch it. The segment was at the end of the news, so it was almost eleven when it played. The interviewer stuck a microphone in his face and said, ‘I heard there’s a new lady in your life. Are you allowed to date a cheerleader?’ His response was that it was nobody’s business but his own if he chose to date a cheerleader.”
“But, I thought you two were serious,” she implores.
I look at her as if she’s grown horns and developed a forked tongue. “So did I, but apparently he’s moved on without telling me.”
“Have you heard from him?”
I shake my head.
“Have you tried to call him?” she pushes.
I shake my head. “He never liked that I gave so much to my job, so I knew one day this was coming. I just thought he’d have the balls to tell me—not announce it on the news to the world.”
“Bartender?” Gabby waves to the man. “Another cosmo for my friend.” She turns to me and reaches for my arm. “I’m sorry he was such a shit.”
“I fucking hate this city. Commitment phobia must come from something in the water, and the rest of the guys don’t have the social skills to date. I’m almost thirty years old, and I have a roommate. If my dad didn’t pay towards my rent, I’d be homeless—and I make a decent living.”
My drink arrives, and it goes down quickly. I’m going to be feeling this tomorrow.
“It’s his loss,” Gabby stresses. “Jeez, you’re beautiful, smart, and you’re the whole package.”
“You’re my best friend. You’re required to say that.”
She giggles. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”
I look up at the bottles surrounding the bar and push the tears away. “What am I going to do?”
“You are going to get up and not let this dickhead affect you. You can’t let him take a minute more of your energy. I bet there are at least a dozen hot guys you could take home to fuck their brains out tonight. Forget all about ‘Bobby Sanders, Quarterback for the San Francisco Goldminers.’” She air-quotes and rolls her eyes.
I shake my head. “Y
ou’re too much. You’re right on so many levels, but I’m not going home with anyone tonight.” Something flashes in my periphery, and I see him staring at me. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Gabby looks around frantically.
“It’s my boss and his current Barbie,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Barbie? Where?” She looks around again.
Not so subtle, that one.
“Stop! He’s over there with the woman you could use as a flotation device.” I point with my eyes. “Shit, he just saw me. Crap. Do I need to go over and say something? Knowing my luck, he’ll just ask me to get them drinks.”
“She’s very pretty, in an artificial way,” Gabby notes.
“She definitely looks good, but the elevator doesn’t go to the top on that one. It seems to get stuck at her chin.”
Gabby snort-laughs.
“Try not to draw any attention to us,” I plead.
“He’s looking over,” she says under her breath.
“Fuck! Try to ignore him.”
I made reservations for him elsewhere. Why is he here? I just want a break from work. Plus, I’ve had plenty to drink. I’m probably a little too honest for my boss right now.
The bartender appears with two drinks. “These are from the couple over there.” He hooks his thumb toward my boss.
My heart drops to the floor. He’s seen me, and I’m a blubbering mess. I glance across the bar, paste a plastic smile on my face, and raise my glass. “Oh my goodness, it’s my boss, Jackson.” I lift my glass and mouth at him, “Thank you.”
He smiles and nods.
“What a smug asshole,” Gabby says under her breath.
Through clenched teeth, I say, “Just be thankful for the drink and that he’s keeping his distance.”
“Oh no he’s not. He’s coming over with two of his friends.”
“Fuck. Those aren’t his friends. They’re his bodyguards.”
“Corrine, nice to see you here.” Jackson Graham is a girl’s version of a wet dream. He’s a Chris Hemsworth lookalike with Daniel Craig’s piercing blue eyes. He’s also founder of an alternative energy company that has made him a billionaire. I’m his assistant, and I must get two dozen calls a day from women asking him out.
“Nice to see you, too. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I thought I made a reservation for you at Bix?” I only make the point of asking because with his entourage, they reserve three tables in prime locations. If he stands them up, I’ll have a problem the next time he wants to go there.
“You did, but Valerie is getting bored with Bix. I called and canceled.”
He can make his own calls? That’s new. “Oh, I think I called her Jennifer today. Sorry about that.”
He looks back at her with his brows furrowed. “She didn’t mention you calling her the wrong name. Enjoy your drinks.” He smiles and walks back to his table.
Every woman’s eyes in the packed bar are glued to him.
Gabby leans in with a bit of a drunken slur. “Your boss is positively hot.”
I shake my head. “That might be true, but he likes the surgically enhanced and he can’t stand brains.”
Her phone pings with a text, and she gets this funny look on her face. Love. I know exactly who she’s talking to: her boyfriend Damien.
I haven’t had my phone on all day. While Gabby sexts with her boyfriend, I reluctantly turn mine on. I’ve got to do it at some point, and it might as well be while I’m partially drunk. It lights up and buzzes with multiple texts. My stomach ties in knots as I stare at the messages rolling over on the locked screen.
What happened with Bobby?
When I find out, Elly, my supposed best friend from high school, I might let you know.
I knew it would never last.
Thanks, Mom. In her mind, to get a man, you need to give up everything. I’d take her advice if she hadn’t been married five times.
I thought you had some great summer plans with Bobby?
Angela, you’re such a nice roommate. We had plans with other players and their wives to go to a lake in Wisconsin. I’m probably off that invite list. So much for any summer vacations. I can’t afford to do anything.
How does any man compare after dating an NFL quarterback?
John, you broke up with me and only wanted me back when you found out I was dating him. Bobby wasn’t perfect. But I liked that he made twenty million a year and was four years younger than me.
I put my phone on mute and toss it in my purse. I can respond later. It suddenly occurs to me that none of the other players’ wives or girlfriends sent me texts. We were all planning for the game on Sunday. I guess in the back of my mind, I thought a few of them would stand by me, but apparently not. That might hurt more than the breakup.
Gabby is ready to go find Damien, so we say our goodbyes. As I walk out of the bar, I look over at Jackson and his date and wave. She scowls at me. Whatever.
I take a rideshare across town to my meager apartment in Presidio Heights. It’s a fancy way of saying I live behind the old Army base, the Presidio, and in the Avenues. The beautiful people look down on those of us who live in the Avenues, but it’s considered affordable. I don’t consider it affordable. I share a three-bedroom apartment—my bedroom used to be a closet—with two others and pay an entire half of my monthly salary toward my portion of the rent. And that’s with the thousand dollars my father contributes each month. I hate San Francisco.
I let myself in and crawl into bed—still wearing my dress and without washing my face or brushing my teeth. That’s very unlike me, and I cry myself to sleep. He broke up with me on the news.
*****
My alarm sounds, and my eyes are crusted shut from my tears. My mouth feels like a cat strolled by while I was asleep and took a crap. I roll over and look up at the stained ceiling. I’m not going to let Bobby Sanders get to me. I take a big breath and sit up. Oh, I can’t move that quickly.
I go slowly into the bathroom and wash my face, determined to make today a better day. I can’t let this keep me down. I’m better than this.
As I do each day, I stop at Starbucks and pick up Jackson’s and my coffee order. He likes a double espresso with steamed milk, and I treat myself to a mocha cappuccino. No one‘s going to see me naked for a while anyway, I reason. Who cares about the extra calories?
Jackson typically beats me to the office, as he works nonstop. Placing the cup on his desk, I remain standing and prepare for our brief morning meeting. “Here’s your double espresso.”
He nods without looking at me.
“Thanks again for the drinks last night.”
“Glad you enjoyed them,” he says without looking up from the spreadsheet he’s studying.
He doesn’t elaborate, so I begin to walk through his calendar for the day. “You’re all set for your Tuesday meeting with your team. You have lunch with Mason Sullivan at noon at Quince regarding your business plan. If you don’t have any changes, I’ll get that bound and ready. Your afternoon is full, and I’ve marked you busy from two thirty to four to return phone calls.”
“Thank you, Miss Woods.”
He still hasn’t looked up, so I turn to leave. He’s in a bad mood today—like most days. As I open the door, I hear, “Oh, I almost forgot.” I turn, and he’s pointing to a box by the door. “That was delivered to you this morning.”
“Okay, thanks.” I pick up the lightweight box and carry it out to my desk. Before I tackle it, I take a big swig of my mocha. “Ahh.”
“I saw the piece about your boyfriend,” my officemate, Heather, says. “I guess he moved on.”
“They always do,” I say. Heather is the executive assistant to Jackson’s chief financial officer—the fourth one since I’ve been here. We get along okay and will occasionally grab lunch together. I made the mistake of telling her about Bobby, and she shared it with the entire building. Lesson learned. If you don’t want anyone to know your business, don’t say anything.
Pull
ing the scissors from my top drawer of my desk, I cut the seal on the box, and immediately the wretched smell hits me. Before I can even discern what’s inside, I slam the box shut. The overwhelming stench fills the office.
“What the hell is that?” Heather asks. Her face is scrunched up, and we’re both breathing through our mouths.
“I have no idea.”
I carefully pick up the box, walk it to the elevators, and ride it to the lobby. The smell is still escaping, and it’s just awful. I want to vomit.
As the doors open, I see our security guard. “Tommy, can you call maintenance? We got a package that I think is full of dog poop. Can you have them fumigate the executive level and the elevator?”
“Dog poop?” He cocks his head to the side.
“Yes, someone sent me a package. I’m going to open it outside.”
“Don’t! That could be a bomb! Put it down and back away.”
I’m already mostly outside, so I set it on the sidewalk and look at him, confused. Why would anyone send me a poop bomb?
When I walk back into the lobby, Tommy is on the phone to 9-1-1. He gives them our address, and I watch him pull the fire alarm. It’s barely eight and people are still arriving. It’s quickly chaos.
He stands with me as we look at the box. “The police are on their way.”
After that he moves right into leadership mode and keeps repeating, “This is not a drill. Please leave the building.”
I look at him in panic. “This may have been a threat to Mr. Graham.”
As the crowd grows outside, I watch Mr. Graham exit the elevator.
People are piling out of the building. Some seem thrilled to have a free morning, while others are clearly perturbed.
Mr. Graham walks up to me. “What the hell?” he says. “First our office smells like shit, and now this?”
“The box you gave me was filled with something disgusting. Tommy thinks it might be a bomb.”
House of Cards (Tech Billionaires) Page 32