After the office was cleared, they sharked around each other for a few minutes in silence. He could hear her brain working. Finally, finally, finally, she looked at him.
“What did you do, David?”
He heard the worry and conflict in her tone. He also noted the edge of hopefulness, and that’s all he needed.
“It’s time, honey. We said that after the launch we’d start coming out of the shadows.” He offered a shrug. “Close enough.”
“Your mother,” she murmured. Her tension was evident.
“Oh, fuck my mother. Not literally, of course, but in the broader sense. I’m not a teenager who just watched his father move out of the house. The years of catering to Quinn’s victim charade are over. I know her. She’s not going to cause a scene because I’m in love with someone who happens to be among the thousands of people this company employs. And she’s not going to remove me from the company.”
“I don’t like the timing. There’s no way I can finish my degree before next summer. Going public will make things complicated.”
“No, it won’t,” he assured her.
She peered up at him when he gathered her close.
“We’re not the center of the universe. We’re involved. No big deal. It’ll be a weekend story that will be quickly forgotten. If things get weird or complicated—for you—I’ll take care of it.”
She might be slightly off-kilter by the sudden recalculation of their relationship parameters, but that didn’t mean she lost any of her innate firepower.
“I want this nonsense with Violet stopped. Immediately.”
There was no other way to say it—he gawked at her. Really? He was pushing them to the next level, and she was fixating on another woman?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. “And take your hands off me you arrogant jerk.”
Wait. What the hell was happening? He just started making moves to reveal their love affair, and her reaction was to get bitchy with him?
The gawking continued as he watched her zip around his office, gathering the stuff she brought to the interview with a tight-assed efficiency he found startlingly erotic.
Suddenly she whirled on him and slapped her hands on her waist. “That’s not how this works, Mr. Sanderson,” she bit out. “I will not be gossiped about.”
He wasn’t finding the thread all that easily. What the hell was she getting at?
“Oh for god’s sake, David,” she growled. Pretending to slap her forehead she went through a pantomime that called him out for being a dumbass.
“Thanks to Quinn, you’ve been parading through the society pages with that wretched bitch at your side. Did you imagine people thought she was your sober companion? A babysitter? Your bodyguard?”
Oh. Right. Yeah. She had a point.
“I’ll be painted as a sneaky slut who stole another woman’s man. You know exactly what you can do with that opinion, right?”
“Ah, fuck.”
“I’m going back to my office now before I come across this room and wipe that head-up-your-ass expression off your face.”
“Amy, hold up.”
“No,” she spat out. “There’s only so much, David—and you know it. Ditch the bitch with the fake smile, and we’ll talk. Until then—go fuck yourself.”
He was ready to do anything, anything at all to change her mind when he detected the slightest twinkle in her eyes.
Oh my god. She was playing him. Fucking fantastic.
He gave her an unimpressed smirk. “As you wish.”
Her expression didn’t change, but instead of a twinkle, her eyes flared.
As she went to leave in a grumpy, well-acted huff, he got the last word.
“I believe we have a date on Friday. Five o’clock, right? I seem to recall a particularly lewd promise of you coming all over my cock.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That would be correct, Mr. Sanderson. Don’t be late.”
And with that, she turned and exited with a naughty hip swagger that put a shit-eating grin on his face.
Oh, he’d get rid of Violet. No problem there. He’d had a Plan B for her tucked away for some time.
But first, he was going to enjoy the wicked theater his sweet Amy planned. She had a way of making the mundane exciting and loved everything and anything that remotely smacked of sexy times role-play.
Chapter Five
The stage was set and her costume perfect. Amy struck several provocative poses in front of a full-length mirror.
“Not bad,” she murmured out loud.
Standing at 5’ 9” she cut quite a figure with her dirty blonde hair, freckles, blue eyes and extra curves. When she packed all that into a naughty corset and added hooker heels, tiny panties and a bra that demanded attention, well, David didn’t stand a chance.
Adjusting her panties, she inspected the real estate for telltale grooming or wardrobe fails. A soft snicker rolled out of her throat. Realizing that once she demanded David cut things off with Violet he’d move with typical speed, if she wanted to squeeze maximum burn from the whole stupid set-up, this was her last good chance.
Meow, much?
She shrugged and went back to studying her reflection.
Hey, she was only human, and it was natural for women to deal with territorial issues much different than men did. She couldn’t punch the greedy bitch out, but she could stake her claim in a powerfully intimate way. After that, Violet could get lost.
Giving the girls a tug, shove and shimmy, she gave her image a thumbs up when they settled comfortably in the risqué see-through bra. The corset gave her naughty curves a boost.
Poor David.
She laughed and searched the vanity top for a perfume. Her hand hovered over the bottle of Poison. It was her go-to scent.
Hmm. Her eyes landed on a bottle that was the same shape only slightly altered.
Hypnotic. She liked this one but used it sparingly. Exotic smelling and lush, she loved the delicate Jasmine undertone.
Pumping a cloud of scent into the air, she stepped into the vapors and twirled around so the perfume could touch her everywhere. Remembering a magazine article she’d recently read, Amy lifted a foot on a stool and one at a time spritzed the inside of her knees, through the stockings.
In the other room, she heard the oven dinger go off and laughed.
David carried a monkey on his back in the form of an especially hard-core addiction to chocolate chip cookies. He couldn’t help himself. A good Toll House cookie or a homemade variation was like crack to him.
So what did she do? Create an olfactory backdrop to the proceedings with a tray of gooey, decadent chocolate chip cookies. The scent and her refusal to allow him any would drive him nuts.
With a gusto that would make her mom proud, she belted out her version of an old Peggy Lee standard, ‘A Man of Distinction”, while bumping and grinding her way through the apartment. Her pole dancing classes paid off in surprising ways!
Dancing around she lowered the lights, lit a few candles, pulled the blinds and shut the curtains. No outside distractions. Just her, David, a pan of warm cookies and a game plan.
Her phone buzzed twice. It was the burner phone signal to alert her when David was on approach. He never failed to let her know when he was in the parking garage so she’d be ready when he arrived.
This time however it was him who better be ready.
Standing in the middle of the room holding a bottle of champagne and wearing a wicked leer, she posed seductively and waited. She didn’t have to wait long before the sound of his key in the door signaled show time.
* * *
On the way to the elevator, David checked the inside pocket on his suit jacket for the twentieth time. He had a bracelet from Tiffany’s in one of those blue boxes that made the ladies swoon.
After an exhausting search he settled on a sapphire bangle that would wear well with jeans or a fancy dress. He planned to give it to her after she played out whatever scene she
was working on in her head. Knowing her as he did, it’d likely be raunchy and hot, hot, hot. Amy didn’t have much in the way of inhibitions.
Since their fake spat in his office, he’d stayed in character and grumped around the office as though someone keyed his new Mercedes. She walked around with her nose in the air and even managed to give him the finger behind somebody’s back.
Taking off half a day, she texted him before leaving the building to, as she put it, go to their apartment and get the handcuffs ready. He was in a meeting when the message came through. With all eyes on him it was near impossible to do anything surreptitious, so he held up his finger to request a pause, ignored the iPhone next to him and reached for the pay-as-you-go phone he kept strictly for her.
Her words were, of course, ambiguous and intended to titillate. Suspecting she wasn’t necessarily kidding about the handcuffs, his cock surged when his thoughts took a sharp detour to triple-x rated town.
He was in a business meeting with eight pairs of curious eyes trained solely on him. His lover was taunting him. And his dick was hard as stone.
Great.
And now, here he was about to walk into their secret love nest and confront God only knows what.
The short elevator ride took too long. He smoothed his tie with a trembling hand.
A lady with a dog got on and grumbled when she realized the elevator was going up two more floors. He all but ran from the lift in his haste to get to Amy.
Stopping outside the apartment door, he sucked in a deep breath and composed himself before inserting the key.
“Let the wild times begin," he quietly breathed as he pushed on the door. “I like where this is going,” he snickered the second he was through, and it shut behind him.
She’d set quite a stage for her bad girl seduction. Dim lighting. Candles. And something else. His nose went into the air, and he inhaled. The scent of his favorite cookies made his mouth water.
Ooooh, she was good.
“You’re late,” she snapped. “By three minutes.”
“Sorry,” he drawled.
“Oh, you will be.”
He swallowed and lowered his eyes for a scorching hot inspection of the get up she wore.
Holy fuckballs. The shoes and stockings were enough to make him question his sense but the corset and see-through bra? Aw, come on. Unfair.
“Is that champagne?” he asked.
He enjoyed the deliberate sway of her sexy hips as she stalked toward him with the bottle held in her hand as she extended it. “Open please.”
“No.”
She dropped her chin and gave him the arched stink eye all women seemed to have perfected.
“Care to say that again?”
He snickered. “Sure. I said no.”
“Do you have a death wish Mr. Sanderson?”
They were separated by no more than an arm’s length now. He could smell her perfume and see the shimmery glow on her skin from whatever body lotion she’d applied.
“The quid pro quo in this matter I believe has something to do with your demand for an orgasm in exchange for something. I don’t remember what. I don’t seem to recall an expectation for me of anything more than showing up. Open your own damn champagne.”
He could see by the fierce effort she put into not laughing that he was on the right track. The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement.
“Open the fucking bottle Mr. Sanderson, or you can stand there and watch while I diddle myself—with no help from you.”
“No diddling allowed.”
“Open the bottle.”
“Kiss me first.”
She let out an adorably exasperated sigh and latched onto his lips with hers. He bit her just before she pulled away.
Taking the bottle from her hands, he twirled his finger and said, “Please!”
“You get one. This is it.”
He chuckled but never took his eyes off her as she walked into the dining room, picked something up and came back his way.
Amy Peters from the front was centerfold heaven. But from behind? Her ass was illegal. He knew this because the things he wanted to do to her back end would probably get him arrested in a few states.
She handed over a foil remover but said nothing as he went about cracking open the bottle of expensive bubbly.
“Glasses?” he asked.
“Oh, we won’t be needing glasses.”
He raised a brow and asked, “Why not?”
She took the open bottle and raised it to her lips for a hearty slug. He warmed even more and grinned. His lady knew how to play the tramp.
“Well first because you can’t have any. You’re driving.”
“And what about you?” he asked silkily. “I thought Joshua was on the evening’s roster.”
She gave him a Mona Lisa half-smirk and rolled a shoulder, which, in turn, made her boobs jiggle.
“He served his purpose.”
His reaction came too swiftly to stop it.
“Really? And what purpose was that? Making me want to smash his smug face in?”
She blew him a kiss. “Worked, didn’t it?”
“You do realize, I hope, that if this weren't your party, I’d have you over my knee.”
“I know!” she happily crowed. “That’s what makes having the upper hand so awesome.”
She took another hefty swig of the champagne, walked away and went to stand next to an armless chair that usually sat in the corner. When she turned her back to him and bent over to put the bottle on the floor, he got a glorious view of the ass he loved to salivate over.
Wench.
She whipped around, clapped her hands together and spelled out her plan. He almost dropped like a stone when all the blood left his head in a tempestuous rush to his dick.
“The suit has to go. Too many problems on the other end if you show up rumpled and with wet spots on your pants.”
Was it weird that a hot blush set his cheeks on fire?
Lowering gracefully at an angle, she sat on the chair and crossed her legs. Back ramrod straight, she was tits and titillation from top to bottom. The little lip bites and deliberate glances at his crotch were making him horny as fuck.
“Break it down for me, Mr. Sanderson. Take it off,” she said with a wave. “Take it all off. I want bare skin.”
Alrighty then.
“Oh, and don’t take your time. The clock is ticking.”
Taking care to drape everything over the sofa, he got rid of his clothes with alarming speed.
A candle flickered on a table behind her. She looked so god damn hot in her bad girl get-up. Without thinking he reached for his cock.
“Tsk, tsk,” she sniggered. “None of that. Hands at your sides. For now.”
The wicked gleam in her eyes and slight giggle sent more blood rushing from his head.
She crooked her finger and licked her lips. He wondered if a heart attack was in his immediate future.
While his dick rocked with every step, he crossed the room and stepped into her body space.
She smirked, subjected his heavy erection to a lingering inspection and then tilted her head to look at him. He wasn’t sure if she actually batted her eyelashes, but that’s how he’d remember the moment.
He had a thing about Amy in a submissive pose. And she knew it, so he was aware that every move she made was choreographed with the intention of driving him wild.
Twirling one of the long wispy curls that lay against her neck, she let out a seductive purr. When she spoke, he felt her hot breath on his skin.
“You have a hard time with the no hands thing,” she said in a husky, velvety voice. “Go get the soft cuffs.”
He hesitated. She was turning the tables on him. She also hadn’t brought the cuffs out by herself. The toys were his domain. The subtle nod to who wore the pants so to speak made his consent easy.
Marching to the bedroom, he went to the walk-in and pulled an old-fashioned leather suitcase from its nook. Unlatching the li
d, he raised it and reached in for a pair of magenta colored cuff restraints. A crystal butt plug caught his eye. He glanced at the door and thought about her posing on the chair and quickly abandoned the idea.
After stashing the case, he hurried back in time to watch as she helped herself to another champagne glug.
He went back into position and handed over the cuffs as his dick waggled close to her face.
“Turn around,” she commanded.
Taking a steadying breath, he turned and put his hands behind his back. His heart thumped wildly when she restrained his hands and adjusted the soft bindings for comfort.
When she turned him round again, and he faced her, she motioned to him for a kiss, took another swig of the champagne just before his mouth took hers, and shared the cold bubbly.
He straightened and looked down his body at her. She dribbled some champagne on his hard cock.
“Lubricant,” she snickered as her hands took over.
Some part of him died and went to heaven as she fondled him with mind-blowing thoroughness. She laughed and said dirty things the whole time. When her tongue got involved, and she licked the head of his cock, he almost dislocated his shoulders from struggling against the cuffs.
He watched, mesmerized, his hands bound behind his back as she threw down with one hell of a blowjob. Amy had a wicked mouth. The sounds she elicited from him were raw and real. Her laughter and sexy delight turned him on tenfold. When she paid serious attention to the twins hanging beneath his cock, he groaned and pushed his hips into her touch.
Sucking, licking, teasing, stroking and laughing the whole time, she stared up at him when his cock bumped the back of her throat. Seeing his dick stretching her lips as she swallowed his staff made him quiver. The slight constriction when she gagged emptied his brain. His hips bucked without thinking.
As the sexual energy built to a dangerous level, his balls felt heavy and tight. He tried to stay cool, but couldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t let him come in her mouth—that wasn’t what this was about—so he desperately drank in the sounds and sight of her voracious mouth as she took him on one hell of an oral and tactile journey.
Shaking, desperate to come and frustrated by the cuffs, he growled at her. “Amy, fuck.”
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