Taylored to Perfection (Taylor Made Book 2)

by kj lewis

  I rub my finger over my clit, relishing in the feel. I’ve missed Graham’s touch the last couple of days, so mine will have to do. I push a finger inside and pull it back out, moving wetness up and over my nub. Stopping only long enough to put the finger in my mouth and taste myself. Lying back on his desk, I move my feet to the arms of his chair, giving him a better view as I continue building my arousal. It’s not long before you can hear my fingers moving between the lips of my sex. My breathing escalates as my other hand continues to massage my breast. I trust Graham not to expose me to the people on his call. I know he is muting his end so they can’t hear me as I moan my appreciation. My body arches and quivers, and my chest and stomach rise and fall as I finger myself to climax.

  “Gentleman, that’s all I need for now. George will set up our next meeting.” He disconnects the call without as much as a goodbye. I’m still on his desk on my back when he pulls my legs towards him, running his nose along the inside of my thigh.

  “I should punish you,” he says. “Teach you it’s not nice to show me what I can’t have. Not to mention I’m trying to run a business.”

  “No sex until the wedding.”

  “I think that rule went out the window when you walked into my office and feasted on yourself in front of me. Keeping me from what’s mine.”

  “Is that what I did?” I ask sweetly, propping myself up on my elbows, watching him run his nose back and forth on the inside of my other thigh. He lightly presses kisses over my damp skin. “Oral sex is sex,” I remind him.

  “You should have thought about that before you came in here. I’ll show restraint by not fucking you into next week after that little show, but your mouth will be wrapped around my cock before you leave this office. Understand?” His mouth makes contact with my sex. A lusty moan escapes me.

  “I won’t repeat myself.” He pulls back, his eyes pinning mine. Waiting.

  “I understand…sir,” I add as his fingers tighten on my thighs.

  “Good girl,” he says before his tongue dives in and out of me. He pulls my hips slightly off the edge and tilts my pelvis up as he finger-fucks my ass while his mouth continues to wreak havoc on my control. Within minutes, I’m coming again. Hard.

  He drains the last quiver from me before he slides me off the edge of the desk, moving his chair back to give me room.

  “Take off your dress.”

  I comply sliding it off my shoulders and dropping it across his desk.

  “On your knees.”

  I lower to my knees. I unbuckle his belt and lower his zipper. He lifts his hips allowing me to free his hardened dick before he slides his hips to the end of his seat giving me better access. I run my hands up and down his length, spreading his moisture as I go, but purposefully denying him my mouth.

  “Emelia.”

  I smile coyly at him and then take him into my mouth. I work in increments, working my way deeper until I take him to the back of my throat. My hands rest on his thighs as I bob my head up and down. In this position, I’m in control of the pace, and I remember a trick Patrick said once. I mimic a yawn. His cock slides past my gag reflex and deep into my throat.

  “Holy Fuck!” Graham’s hips jerk upwards in response, his hands fisting in my hair. I continue the move, getting him deeper than any time before. The more comfortable I get, the longer I’m able to hold him. I add a hum and feel his cock swell. A few more trips deep in my throat, and I pull back as he comes on my tongue and in my mouth. I swallow everything he gives, licking up what leaked out as he continues to come down from his orgasm. My arms rest across his knees as I watch him gather his wits.

  “You should write a ‘how to’ book. I have never had my dick sucked like that until I met you.”

  His words throw me off a little. I don’t like thinking of his dick in other girls’ mouths. He runs a finger gently down my cheek, reading my response.

  “Would taking your ass right now be considered sex?” he asks, hopeful.

  “I’m afraid this is all you get until our wedding night.” I grab my dress and look seductively at him over my shoulder as I walk to the apartment door. In the bathroom, I grab a wet wash cloth and rinse off before putting my dress back on and brushing my hair.

  “I have to go.” I kiss him.

  “Where are you going?” His hands travel down and land on my backside.

  “I have meetings with four of the mentors to evaluate the progress of their first week. I have to be across town in 30 minutes. What?” I ask in response to his disgruntled expression.

  “I know all of these men, and they will know what you’ve been doing the minute they see your swollen lips and hear the hoarseness in your voice.”

  “I’ll eat some ice and drink a cup of hot tea on my way. They won’t know a thing.”

  “Trust me. They’ll know.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m good before I go in.”

  “I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Taylor.” He kisses me gently.

  “I love you, Mr. Taylor.” I hit the button on his desk to unlock his door.

  “Straight to the elevator. No stopping on the way. I’m serious. I don’t want anyone to think of you that way.” His genuineness touches me.

  “Let them think what they want,” I shrug. “We’ll be married in 48 hours. I go down on my husband. I’m not ashamed of that. I gotta go. Bye, babe.” I give him one last kiss before leaving his office with a piece of ice in my mouth.

  The ice reduces the swelling, and I look fine by the time I make it to my meeting. My voice is still a little throaty but not enough to draw their attention.

  I make it to the last meeting of my day. Mark Johnson. He’s agreed to mentor three interns.

  “Mr. Johnson will see you now.” A lovely blonde girl escorts me to his office.

  “Miss James.” He comes around his desk buttoning his suit coat. He extends his hand once he reaches me. I remember thinking in our first meeting that he was money pretty. I was right.

  “Emme, please.” I return his shake with a firm grip. He directs me towards a sitting area to the side of his office. His office has amazing views. It’s on the 74th floor of One World Trade. It’s the first time I’ve been inside the building, and it’s as beautiful inside as it is out. “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me today Mr. Johnson. I’ll be quick. I know your time is valuable. I wanted to check in with you and make sure the program is running to your liking and that the young men are working to your standards.”

  “Mark, please. Well, it’s only been a week, but already I’ve had extremely positive feedback from my team. I plan on meeting with them one-on-one next week, which is a privilege I don’t bestow easily. I fully expect them to live up to my expectations.”

  “That’s great to hear.” I smile proudly.

  “I would expect nothing less, since they’ve been hand-picked by you.” Something in the way his eyes dance when watching me causes a blush to sweep across my cheeks.

  “I would love some feedback after your meetings.”

  “I know we met as a group the first day you pitched us. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk about you.”

  “Sir?”

  His breath hitches like it did in our first meeting. “I’d like to know more about you. How and why you devised this program.”

  I give him the background on me and the program, and end with, “Your level of interest surprises me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m not sure of your motives.”

  “Are you always this honest?” he asks with his head cocked to the side, observing me as much as I am him.

  “Aren’t you? Is there a reason not to be?”

  “It’s just…very refreshing, that’s all.” His fingers trace the line of his chin as he appears to be thinking about his next line of questions.

  “Are you seeing someone?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “Yes.”

  He nods and sits for a mom
ent. Okay, this dog and pony show is over. I start to stand and his hand falls to my knee, halting my movement.

  “I would like to make you a job offer. I am making a run for Mayor, and I need an advisor. Someone who knows people. Who will say exactly what they’re thinking, and isn’t afraid to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Also, everyone I’ve talked to says you have a heart for people which is an area I could use some help in.”

  “Having a heart?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve researched you and your company. I wouldn’t have my kids here if you didn’t have a heart. You just need reminding. Someone to help you realize it.”

  “I’d like that someone to be you.” He studies me, curious, I think, about my reaction to him.

  “Would I answer to you or to your campaign manager?”

  “You would have unfettered access to me and once I win office, I could see you as my Chief of Staff.”

  I hesitate. “I know nothing of politics. I don’t think I would serve you very well.”

  “I know politics. You know people and what they need. Together we would be a strong team. Will you think about it?”

  “Yes, sir. I will.” Already my mind is going in several directions, thinking of changes we could bring to schools and low income areas.

  “I can see you’re already planning. That pleases me.” His word choice pulls my eyes up, and I blush again. What the fuck is that? Lock it down, James.

  “I would hire you on as my employee for my company. You’d start at $500,000 a year and be eligible for the bonuses my executive staff is given, along with other lucrative benefits.”

  I stand when he stands. Escorting me to his door, he places his hand at the small of my back as he guides me to the elevator.

  “Are you available for dinner this Saturday night?” he asks as he hits the button for the elevator. Teague stands to the side, watching him, his eyes on Mark’s hand placement.

  “I’m not. It’s my wedding night.” Why do I feel like it’s necessary for him to understand that?

  “I’d be lying if I didn’t say that’s a shame.” His hand falls to his side.

  “Does that mean you want to reconsider your offer?”

  “No, Emme. The offer is legitimate and stands. I want you to work for me. The disappointment is on an entirely personal level.”

  “Miss James.” Teague alerts me the elevator has arrived, his eyes never leaving Mark.

  “May I have a few days to think about it?”

  “Let’s meet again next Wednesday. How does that sound? I’ll email you the specifics.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Emme. Congratulations on your wedding,” he says stepping back so the elevator doors can close.

  Teague doesn’t say anything on the ride down, but I can tell he’s brewing about something.

  “Go ahead.” I face him. The doors open and he guides me to the car.

  “I don’t like him,” he grunts. “Plus he’s a handsy fucker.”

  “You don’t like anyone.”

  “I like Graham.”

  “Yeah. I kind of do, too.”

  “A courier dropped this off for you.” Teague hands me a package. I open it and a ring box falls out. One of the jewelry designers I regularly commission with through Hollingsworth Imaging came through for me with very little notice. I had Graham’s ring made specifically for him using the white gold from my grandparents’ rings. I had them combined into one, giving it a nice weight with the inside engraved to match the inscriptions they had on each band: “My beloved. Your Emelia.”

  “Thanks, Teague. Have you heard from Smith? Will they be home soon?” I ask.

  “They’ve left the office and should be here shortly.”

  I move about the apartment listening to Al Green’s “Love and Happiness,” packing for myself and for Graham. One less thing he’ll have to do when he’s home. I wonder who normally packs for him.

  “I’m a lucky bastard.”

  I stop shaking my ass and packing long enough to see Graham watching me from the door. It’s a beautiful night. I have the pocket doors open in the bedroom and am enjoying a glass of wine.

  “I’d ask you kindly not to talk about my soon-to-be husband like that, sir.” I move to him. He pulls me into an embrace, kissing me deeply. The song changes to Ella Fitzgerald. Sensing where this is going to lead, he moves us into a dance around the bedroom. It’s one thing we haven’t done much, dance together. It reminds me how fresh we really are to this relationship and that, compared to most, we are doing this backwards. Getting married sooner than usual.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, twirling me.

  “Us. Getting married. After only one month.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?” He stops in front of me.

  “No, Graham. No second thoughts. Just thinking about how much has changed in my life over the last month.”

  “I know it’s been a lot.” He kisses my forehead and moves us back into tune with the music. “I’m in awe of you.”

  “What?” he asks, trying to decipher my expression.

  “I want you to be proud of me.”

  “I am, Emelia. Not just because you handle change with grace and fortitude, but because you are the most amazing person I know. I don’t deserve you, but I will live every day earning you. Taking care of you. Cherishing you.” His hands move to the sides of my face. He pulls me to him, his mouth finding mine. God, this man can kiss. It’s a kiss for the movies. We come up for air after several minutes.

  “Even your kisses are sexy as hell,” he says to me.

  “I packed for you.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Did you get everything?”

  “Yes, Graham. I know how to pack.”

  “Maybe I should inspect your work.”

  “Do and you’ll be packing your own bag next time.”

  “A chance I’ll have to take.” He looks through our bags.

  “You’ve packed too many clothes. You won’t be wearing any after I take off your wedding dress,” he tells me, looking through his suitcase next. He moves to the closet. “See. This is why you have to be thorough. You missed something.”

  “What did I miss?” I come around the corner, following his voice.

  “This.” He’s holding his hand out. In his palm is a beautiful emerald green velvet box, tied with a cream ribbon.

  “Graham.”

  “Emelia.”

  I lift the box and untie the ribbon. Placing the unopened box back in his hand, I wrap the ribbon around my ponytail and tie it into a bow. Taking the box back, I open it and pull back the velvet overlay revealing two beautiful hairpins with flowers on the end. The petals are sapphires and the center of each flower is a small emerald.

  “Graham, they’re beautiful.”

  “I had them made for you. For your wedding day.” He runs a finger lightly down my jaw. “I borrowed the blue sapphires from my mom. They came from an old necklace my grandmother owned. They are new to you.”

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” My eyes water as I say it aloud. I’m so touched. Suddenly, it registers that Led Zeppelin is playing, repeating the words Graham engraved on my iPod, and I realize he’s orchestrated this moment. Robert Plant sings, “Someone told me there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.”

  “I love you, Emelia.”

  I throw my arms around him, hugging him tight. “I love you, Graham.”

  Vinnie has left a wonderful meal waiting for us. Having someone cook for me is definitely the part of having money I could get used to.

  We leave first thing in the morning for the Hamptons. Knowing we will both hit the ground running to get everything done for the wedding, I relish our time together tonight. It’s been several nights since it was just the two of us.

  “What’s your favorite book?” Graham asks as his fingers rub up and down my arm. I’m
nestled into his side on a chaise lounge watching and listening to the city around us.

  “To Kill a Mockingbird,” I answer. His question sets off a slew of others. Some he asks, some I ask. We spend the next few hours laying under the lights of the buildings above us, getting to know each other. I tell him about my grandparents and what their life was like together. We talk about what growing up was like for him. What kind of kids we were like in school. What Ben and Ruth were like as parents as well as what the holidays were like in their house, and the family traditions we each had.

  “Does it bother you that I can’t give you children?”

  I can feel him tense up. “No, Emelia. It doesn’t. I will admit that I would love to see a little girl that looks like you running around here, but it’s not something that bothers me. There are lots of couples who have fertility issues. We have the money. When we’re ready, we can try adopting or surrogacy if that’s an option. As you know, there are lots of ways you become a family without being born into one.”

  “I know it’s something you’ve aspired to, Graham. You have ‘his and hers’ in your beach house. You’ve built an empire. You’re giving up your chance to have an heir to your throne.”

  “I’ve built my business. Now I want to build a family. If it ends up just being us, then we can leave the business to our nieces and nephews and give the rest to charity. We have the fortune to create the lives we want, Emelia. We can’t be hung up on the things we can’t control.”

  “Control. There’s that word again.”

  “There it is.” He looks down at me. “Your nemesis,” he chuckles.

  I sit up and look at him. “I recall that you have your own issues with being in control,” I say sharper than I intended.

  “I do. But I’m meant to be in control. I’m a business owner and the head of the house. I want control because it’s how I make order of things. You need control because you associate it with security. Your wanting to have control isn’t about your need for control; it’s about your lack of trust that I will make sure you are always secure.”