Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “You must wear that one,” she’d proclaimed the minute I’d presented myself in the burgundy. “Because it will get you all the right attention.”

  Of course, she’d meant Cole’s attention, which tonight I will embrace. I want his attention. I’m allowed to want his attention. Just this night.

  We’ve just stepped into the elevator when Cole, devastatingly handsome in a gray three-piece suit paired with a gray and blue tie, appears in the doorway. “Gorgeous, ladies,” he says, giving Cat a wink before he looks at me, his eyes simmering with male appreciation.

  There are words exchanged between Reese, Cole, and Cat, but it buzzes in my ears, non-descript, unintelligible, for the thrumming of my heart in my chest and ears. There is just Cole, stepping into the car, shrinking the tiny space and claiming the spot to my left, with Cat on my right. There is just Cole’s spicy scent, teasing my nostrils with erotic promise. Cole’s big body next to mine, his shoulder brushing mine, and the smattering of goosebumps lifting on my skin at his nearness. The doors shut and the car starts to move, and I can feel him looking at me even before he asks, “Are you nervous?” He discreetly catches my fingers with his, heat radiating up my arm and across my chest where my nipples pucker.

  I swallow and look at him, the collision of our eyes, and the heat in the deep blue of his, weakening my knees. No man but this one has ever weakened my knees. “Should I be?” I ask, when of course we are not talking about the party. We’re talking about me going home with him.

  “Not at all,” he says, and perhaps it’s just me but I swear his voice is low, rough, sexy. “Because you’ll be with me,” he adds, “and I know exactly what I want, and what you need, to get out of this night.”

  His fingers stroke my palm on that promise, darts of pleasure shooting through my sex, and I suddenly can’t remember why needing Cole Brooks is a problem. I’m sure I will. I know I will. Just not when he’s touching me. Or looking at me. Most definitely, not when he’s kissing me later. And when he’s naked—well, when he’s naked, I’m just going to let it happen, I’m going to let myself need him. All of him, more of him, until it’s enough of him. Until we’re done with each other. Then need won’t matter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Cole

  I have never wanted to fuck a woman as badly as I want to fuck Lori Havens right here and now in this elevator, and we’re not even alone. That I want her to the point of distraction, and have for months now, is a problem that ends tonight. The floors tick by, twenty to be exact, each allowing me an opportunity to imagine the many ways to take this woman: bent over my desk, me driving inside her until she begs me to stop, and her sitting on my desk, her legs around my neck, my head buried between her thighs, top the list. Of course, there’s her on her knees—

  The elevator doors open, and holy fucking hell, at least we’re a little closer to the hour when Lori will be on my tongue and on my cock. A few hours from now, she’ll be mine. With that certain future before me, I steel my willpower—that is, until Lori follows Cat and Reese out of the car ahead of me, and I’m allowed a perfect view of her heart-shaped backside in that burgundy dress. Change of plans, I decide, checking my watch to confirm there is a good thirty minutes until the party starts, adequate time for me to find a place to pull Lori’s dress up, slip inside her, and fuck her; just long enough to hear those sexy moans of hers. A fantasy I savor as I step out of the elevator car and to her side. That is until Maria rushes through the open double doors to our right, where our newly minted unoccupied space is being used for the party, and blows that all to hell.

  “We have a problem,” she announces, stopping in front of us, her attire of jeans and a T-shirt making it clear that she hasn’t had time to change. “The catering company had a fire,” she continues. “They cancelled hours ago.”

  “What?” Cat exclaims. “Why didn’t you call us?”

  “Because I thought I had it handled,” Maria says, pressing her hand to her forehead, “and I handle worse than this most weeks.”

  “Oh my God,” Cat breaths out, turning to Reese. “Oh my God.”

  “Don’t panic,” Maria says, quickly. “I should have prefaced that statement by saying it’s handled. Somehow. Le Rue, the restaurant we all adore down the road, agreed to save us, but they showed up with no sweets and no coffee. We really need some kind of sweets.”

  “I’ll help make phone calls,” Cat says. “Someone can help.”

  “Time is an issue,” I say. “Do we have the champagne we ordered?”

  “Yes,” Maria confirms. “All is well on that end.”

  “We’re boozing people up and feeding them, then,” I reply. “Call it good.”

  “Agreed,” Reese says. “How many of the partners are here?”

  “Most of them,” Maria says. “But none of them know there’s a problem. I didn’t want to deal with them and this at the same time.”

  “No food was a problem,” I say. “Skipping dessert and coffee is not a problem. Your job is done and done well, as always.”

  “Again, I agree,” Reese chimes in. “Cat and I can manage the masses, Maria,” he adds, slipping his arm around Cat’s shoulder. “You go take a breather and change clothes. We’ll toast your hard work and our future when you get back.”

  Cat twists in his arms to face him. “You go manage the masses,” she orders. “I get it. You’re a guy and it doesn’t feel important, but it is. We need dessert and coffee. This is a big event and we have time. It can be a final offering.”

  “I think I can handle the coffee and sweets,” Lori offers, reaching inside a small burgundy purse at her hip and removing her phone. “I worked at a coffee shop, remember? The owner also operates a cupcake shop and the cupcakes are amazing. I also happen to know that he mass bakes on Saturday nights for the Sunday and Monday rush.”

  “See why I love her?” Cat demands. “She’s amazing.”

  “Call me amazing when I get the job done,” Lori says, dismissing the compliment, and eyeing Maria to ask, “How many am I servicing?”

  “Two hundred,” Cat says, answering for Maria. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing,” Lori replies. “I’ll take over. I’ll handle this.”

  The three women go back and forth a minute, or maybe two, before Maria proclaims, “Thank you, Lori,” and hugs her before she darts away.

  Lori motions to the rest of us. “All of you go. You have better things to do than manage cupcakes.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need me?” Cat asks.

  “If I can’t handle cupcakes,” Lori replies, “then someone needs to fire me now.”

  “These cupcakes might require a miracle,” Cat says, “but I do want to check out everything else inside. I’ll be back. Or you come find me. Whichever happens first.”

  Lori nods, and Cat walks in the other direction. “Hold on, sweetheart,” Reese says, catching up to her, his arm settling around her shoulders, and for the first time in my life, I want to have what they have. I want to pull the woman next to me into my arms. I want to show the damn world she’s mine. I want to make her mine, and the craziest fucking part is that I feel no resistance to the idea.

  “I can find you inside, too, Cole,” Lori offers. “I won’t be long.”

  “You could find me inside,” I say, turning to face her and reaching for my wallet. “But you need to pay, remember?” I remove my credit card, replace my wallet, and hand her the card.

  “Right,” she says, reaching for it.

  “Not to mention,” I add, holding the card that she’s now holding, as I add, “You’re with me tonight, remember? Now and later.”

  “Quite well,” she assures me, heat whipping and cracking between us that she reacts to the minute I release the card.

  She takes a hard step backward, wetting her lips while I indulge in a fantasy that involves her mouth on my cock, or pretty much anywhere on my body. She taps a number on her phone and immediately begins a short conversation that is over without a
cupcake order being completed.

  “I was right,” she confirms, disconnecting the line. “The shop staff is baking for tomorrow morning. The owner will call me back in a few minutes. I feel good about this working out, but I should try to make calls for backup, just in case.”

  The elevator dings and I step to her, catching her elbow. “Come with me,” I say, leading her in the opposite direction from the party.

  “Where are we going?” she asks earnestly.

  “Away from whoever is about to step off that car and force us to be cordial before it’s necessary,” I inform her, turning us down a hallway. “And to an office where you can make calls in private.”

  “Shouldn’t we update Maria?”

  “Maria’s changing clothes,” I say. “And we don’t have an update.” I cut us down yet another hallway.

  “I know,” she says, “but—”

  I stop walking, turn her to face me, my hand sliding under her hair, my mouth slanting over her mouth. Her hand presses to my chest, her body stiff until the moment my tongue licks against hers. A soft, sexy sound escapes her lips and her elbow softens, but the air conditioning kicks in and she jumps.

  She gasps and pulls back. “We have to stop,” she pants out, her hand firming on my chest again, elbow stiff. “Someone is going to see us.”

  By the time she’s finished that statement, I’ve backed her to a door, opened it, and I’m walking us inside. “Now they can’t see us,” I say, shutting us inside and flipping the lock.

  “Cat will look for us.”

  “I just want a little taste, sweetheart,” I say, my hand sliding under her hair, one of my elevator fantasies presently on my mind, “and then I promise to share you for a few hours,” I add, my mouth slanting over hers again, and this time her resistance lasts a split second. She outright moans with the touch of my tongue, and that’s all I need to deepen the kiss, the taste of her deliciously sweet and addictive, exactly what I’m after. I back her up against the desk and drag her dress up her hips. She grabs my hands. “Cole,” she breaths out. “We can’t do this.”

  I lift her and set her on the desk. “But I can do this,” I say, kissing her hard and fast, before I drop to my knees, spread her legs, and yank away her panties. She gasps—God I love the sounds this woman makes—and then my mouth is already there, on her sex, my tongue licking her up and down, the taste of her salty and sweet, and once again, addictive. I can’t get enough of this woman on my tongue, on my lips, or on my cock where I’ll finally have her when we’re alone. I drag her legs to my shoulders, forcing her to catch her hands on the desk, while I slip one, and then two fingers inside her. She moans, and pants, and my name murmurs from her lips. I want to hear my name on this women’s lips over and over again, I lick her, stroke her; I torment her with pleasure just long enough to drive her wild, to drive her to the edge until she’s panting out, a raspy, “Cole, please.”

  And since she said please, how can I deny her? I give her what she wants and needs. I dart my tongue across her clit, before I suckle her deep, pumping my fingers inside her until she’s arched against the touch, her sweet tight sex spasming around my fingers. Her entire body jerks and then begins to tremble with her breathless, “Cole,” that fades and her arms collapse.

  Only then do I ease my fingers from her and slide her legs from my shoulders. I slip my arm around her waist, and lift her up and to me. She catches herself with a hand on my chest. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she says, her head low, a hint of vulnerability and sweetness to her that I find sexy as hell.

  “I can’t believe that I didn’t do that the day you walked into my office the first time.”

  “You’re my boss,” she says, but this time it doesn’t read like an objection.

  I cup her face and force her gaze to mine. “Does that turn you on?”

  “I’m not telling you that I’m turned on by you being my boss.”

  “Why not? It’s me. It’s us.”

  “There is no us.”

  “Isn’t there?” I challenge.

  “No,” she says, “because, damn you, you are my boss.” She motions to the room. “And we’re doing this in some person’s office, which proves what a horrible, horrible influence you are. What are you doing to me?”

  “Nothing you aren’t doing to me, Lori.”

  “Then what are we doing?”

  Her cell phone rings. “The cupcakes,” she says, twisting around to try to locate her phone, grabbing it somewhere behind her to answer the call. “Hello, Mr. White?” She scoots forward on the desk and I help her down, easing her skirt over her hips as she continues on her call with, “Yes. Yes. Two hundred, and coffee with condiments. Perfect. Credit card. Right.” She turns and starts hunting for it.

  I find it on the floor and snatch it up, offering it to her. She accepts it while I lean in and kiss her, a quick, deep slide of tongue, letting her taste herself on my lips. When our lips part, and I pull back, she gives me this sexy, doe-eyed look that makes me want to pull her skirt up again.

  “You there, Lori?” someone on the phone line asks.

  “Yes,” she says, cutting her gaze from mine. “I have the credit card number.” She reads it off to him, and then listens a minute, giving him instructions before she disconnects and announces, “We have cupcakes and coffee.”

  “I’m sure there will be a lot of satisfied guests.” My hands settle on her waist. “But you are what satisfies me, and by the time tonight’s over, you’re going to know that.” I hold up her panties and stick them in my pocket. “The rest of the room won’t know I own you tonight, but now you do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Lori

  He owns me.

  I stand in the bathroom off the hallway I’ve now made out with my boss in, I stare at my smudged makeup and wild hair, and decide that statement is as honest as it gets.

  He owns me.

  Good Lord, I all but admitted to being turned on by him being my boss. And I was. I didn’t think that could be possible, but in that office that I barely even saw for the distraction of his tongue, I was most definitely living a boss fantasy. Which is much better when you’re in the moment than living the aftermath. Or maybe I wasn’t living a boss fantasy. Maybe I’m just turned on by Cole in any and all capacity. Not that it matters. For someone who didn’t want to mix pleasure with work, I just managed to moan and orgasm on a desk in some nameless person’s office that I hope remains nameless.

  I open my purse and do my best to fix my face and hair with the few items I’ve creatively fit in my tiny bag. Thankfully I have lipstick, a concealer, a tiny comb and a petite hairspray, all of which I waste no time putting to use. Time is critical, not just because of the party either. The longer I’m down some hallway with Cole, the more obvious we are. I walk to the door, steel myself for the man on the other side, and exit.

  He’s leaning on the wall, looking all Tall, Dark and GQ—no, all Tall, Dark and Just Owned Me, in his perfectly fitted suit. The man doesn’t even have a hair out of place, standing there, one foot crossed over the other, his arms folded over his perfect, broad chest and me on his lips.

  He straightens to his barbaric height. And he is barbaric, or I wouldn’t have ended up with my skirt to my waist and his tongue doing the things it did to me. “Ready?” he asks.

  “Of course, I’m ready,” I say, turning away from him and starting down the hallway. I’m not going to let what just happened affect me during the party. I have a job. I have a boss.

  He gives a low, sexy laugh, and steps to my side. “No doubt in my mind,” he assures me. “And considering I can still taste you on my lips, this party might just be tolerable.”

  I stop walking and look at him. “Cole—”

  He turns to face me, intimacy and warmth in his blue eyes. “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Don’t say anything like that in that room, please,” I say. “Because I’m not sure I can hide my reaction.”

  “But I can say it
when we’re alone?”

  “Yes,” I say, because denial has gotten me nowhere, which was the point of this entire night, “but only when we’re alone. Now you say yes.”

  “Yes,” he says. “Just us. Our secret.”

  “Our secret,” I repeat, and I don’t know why, but right then in that moment, agreeing to our secret rather than fighting it, somehow deepens the intimacy between us.

  “There you are!”

  At the sound of Maria’s exclamation, I jolt, and face forward to find her standing in our path, a good three feet away and now dressed in a pale blue, knee-length dress with a hint of shimmer. Cole and I start walking toward her. “No one knows but us, sweetheart,” Cole murmurs softly. “I promise.”

  “Meanwhile,” I say in an equally low voice, “I’m trying to look like I didn’t just have my legs around your shoulders.”

  He laughs, a sexy, rumble of masculinity that clenches my sex, and carries us until we are nearly in front of Maria. “Any luck with the sweets or coffee?” she asks urgently, meeting us the last few steps.

  “Cupcakes and coffee on the way,” I say. “The owner of the bakery said it would be an hour about ten minutes ago. They’re going to ask for Cole downstairs.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes out. “I’ll have security call me when they arrive. How many were they able to supply?”

  “A hundred,” I say, “and since everyone won’t eat a cupcake we should be fine. And they’re bringing coffee in thermoses with condiments.”

  “You’re an angel,” she says, repeating my mother’s earlier sentiments. “I hate that you had to do this.” She starts backing up. “You two should head to the party. The guests have started piling in.” She turns and heads down the hallway and Cole glances over at me.

  “Time for the torture,” he says, motioning me forward.