“Oh, I suppose you're right,” she conceded with a sigh as she began to turn away from him. “I'll just go over by the couch and we can—” he fisted her hair and tugged her back close to him, his arm locking around her waist.
“I didn't say we couldn't do anything, did I?” he growled, his predatory smirk only growing more primal as he returned his fixated gaze to her full lips.
She suddenly found herself grateful that she had chosen to not wear any lipstick today as he crashed his mouth into hers. He sipped at her plump lip, his teeth teasing her lower lip, and she found that she wanted more of him. They let their mouths dance out an intricate battle for dominance as he explored her body with his hands.
With a groan, she leaned her body against his. He trailed his hands up the skirt of her dress and slowly ran his fingers around the waistband of her panties, clearly interested in the long game and teasing her endlessly, as he didn't remove her panties, but simply skimmed his hand under the waistband of them. She wondered when he would finally give in and fuck her senseless, and just how much he loved to play the power game between them.
She could feel his erection, long and thick, pressing deliciously against her thigh, and she moaned against his lips, desperate to feel it inside her once again. It hadn't even been a full week since they last saw each other, but already she was craving him like he was a habit that she couldn't break. Maybe he was, it was hard for her to say, but as long as he kept kissing her like that, she wouldn't mind it one bit.
“Now, then,” he said with another one of his signature grins as they pulled apart. “I believe we have... business to conduct, am I right?”
“Ah…” she panted, taking a moment to regain her composure and adjust her dress to save some bit of modesty for the rest of the interview; they might not be visible for it, but professionalism — or at least, the pretense of it — was always important, even if you had a relationship with the person you were interviewing. “Right, then,” she said, not bothering to hide her blush this time as she went over to the couch to sit while he carried their coffee. “I suppose, if there's nothing else we need to take care of beforehand...” She pulled herself upright, straightening her posture as much as possible. “We'll begin once I count down, and start recording, same as usual.”
He nodded to her as he handed her one of the mugs of coffee, and admired the way that her demeanor changed entirely; she went from a demure, blushing young lady into a no nonsense business woman giving out instructions in a gentle but firm voice. It never failed to turn him on, he noted as he casually crossed his legs. He could, at the very least, hide his erection during the interview, for the sake of professionalism.
“On one, then,” she grinned. “Five.”
They locked eyes for a moment, and she felt the spark of sexual tension that was always between them.
“Four.”
She took a breath, most likely to relax herself so that she could more easily step into her role after their activities only moments ago. As if that would be enough to calm her racing heart.
“Three.”
He leaned back in his chair, his button up shirt slipping just enough to expose a prominent collar bone.
“Two.” Her voice grew breathy for a moment from her own arousal before she cleared her throat.
“One.”
* * * *
“Mr. Westley,” she said in her firm investigator's voice earning an eager reaction from his cock in the process. He found himself grateful for the way that he positioned his legs, or he knew that she would be driven to distraction once she noticed it. “As we've had this interview, there have been some recent events that are rather unfortunate.” His grin faded, but he couldn't say that he wasn't surprised; it was only a matter of time before she brought it up, be it in the interview, or just in person, and he could certainly understand her concerns. She was, after all, taking the position of a dead woman, and would want some sort of security and reassurance on the matter.
“You are, of course, referring to my assistant being found in the river,” he said, finding no point in beating around the bush – doing so would just arouse suspicions, and there was no sense in doing anything suspect, given that he had nothing to hide.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat uncomfortably but otherwise didn't outwardly seem affected by the directness of his tone. “Yes, precisely that.” She nodded her head. “This is, of course I must emphasize, no accusation of any kind,” she reassured him, and he had no doubt that, whatever her own personal doubts might be, that she would never accuse him of anything unless she had some irrefutable fact that demanded explanation. “I'm merely interested in your thoughts on the matter.”
“Of course,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It would be odd of me to not comment on the matter.” And, truly, it would; should he pretend that nothing was wrong, it would bring unnecessary suspicion to him and the company, things that he knew that, for all his money, he couldn't afford to have brought on him. Public opinion was powerful, and that which is negative could take far longer than it had any right to stick around, whether it was true or not.
“How true,” she said with a nod. He wondered just how routine this particular question was to her, and how much of their relationship was riding on the way that he answered it. He opted to be honest about his thoughts on the matter, to obliterate any chance of doubt that she might have about it.
“It's unfortunate, of course,” he said with a shrug. “She and I were friends before I founded Westley Entertainment, though not many people know that.” She quirked an eyebrow, surprised that he hadn't been uncomfortable in the slightest with her question, and no doubt, the news that his former assistant was actually a longtime friend of his. “I think part of me is still in shock about it. I still wait for her to call me and say that she's on the way here, but she's just running late, like she always did,” he chuckled as he remembered all of the times that she would come in late with lukewarm coffee and an apologetic smile on her face.
“That's so fascinating. I had no idea that you two were close,” she was opting for diplomacy, clearly, but he could read the question between the lines – was there more than friendship with Melissa when she was his assistant? There hadn't been, and they had never even entertained the notion of it, but it was no doubt a question that was floating in her mind. Best to put it to rest as well, he thought as he observed her trying to word her next question.
“Oh, most people didn't know,” he replied in that same smooth tenor timbre in his voice that was always present when he was talking to her. “It was actually at her and her wife's request, for her protection. So that no one that didn't like me would try and get to her because of it.” He took a sip of his coffee and set it back down, noticing that she had snuck in enough sips of hers that her mug was nearly half empty by now. He wondered when she had managed to do that, and realized that he had been distracted by the way that her shapely legs looked peeking out from the dress she was wearing. “So, I respected her wishes, and we really only spent time together when we were out to lunch, under the pretense of working.”
“And that didn't bother you at all?” she asked, curious as to his response.
“Of course not,” he said after another swallow of his coffee. “When I ventured into this business, I knew that it would be a cut throat environment, and completely understood where she and her wife stood on the matter.”
“And in spite of all of that, Melissa was still alright with working alongside you through it?” she pressed with a tilt of her head.
“It comes with the territory,” he replied with a shrug. He knew that this was a rather personal question for her, a fear that perhaps held more weight, given Melissa's death, but a fear that he wanted to assuage all the same. “It's not so dangerous for an assistant, however personal it may be. Truly, their biggest risk in this business is being given a better offer by some competitor or something along those lines, statistically speaking.” He leaned forward, setting his coffee down be
fore resting his forearms against his knees. He stared at her intensely, locking her gaze with his and ensuring that she wouldn't look away before continuing. “All the same, I have security in and around the building, and there is always somebody available to walk with my employees out of the building and into the parking garage. Security can be called for a personal escort, and when that happens, they stay with the employee that requested it until they reach their car.” Something about his tone made it sound like a promise to her, on a personal level, that she would always be safe and that he would protect her, and maybe it was because they had been intimate already, and were in something of a relationship, but the way that he said it without taking his eyes off of her made her want to believe him.
“I see,” she said, and hoped it didn't sound as breathy on the recorder as it did to her. And to him, if his slow smirk was any indicator. She cleared her throat. “For what it's worth, I am incredibly sorry for your loss. Melissa sounds like she was a good friend to you, and was a great source of support.”
She looked relieved and she sounded much more sure of herself with that statement. All the same, he appreciated her sympathy; given the situation, she could have easily just been lost to jealousy or something along those lines.
“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” he said softly, a smile tugging on his lips. “I may not have always thought that Melissa was good at her job, or was the most graceful, but through everything, she was my friend, first and foremost,” he shrugged. “Really, I feel far worse for her wife than I do myself. I sent her some flowers and will be attending the funeral to support her and say goodbye to Melissa, but I intend to help her with funeral costs and finances thereafter. I wouldn't be where I am if not for Melissa's counsel, and I feel it's only right that I do my best to make sure that her wife is taken care of in her absence.”
“That's... wow,” Angela gaped at him, as if she was at a loss for words at his display of such a sense of responsibility. Which was true; he had already gotten in touch with Melissa's wife and arranged for what would have been Melissa's retirement to be given to her on a monthly basis for the next fifty years. It was the least he could do. “That's such a generous thing to do, Mr. Westley.”
“It's not generous if it's the right thing to do,” he said with a shrug. Sure, he was a shrewd businessman, but he could at least do the right thing once in a while. “Were there any further questions for me, Angela?” She seemed startled by him asking her a question, but talking about Melissa put him in something of a somber mood, and he felt as though he wouldn't be able to do much more talking about business when all he wanted to do was go home and drink a scotch.
“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Ah, no, that should conclude the interview in its entirety,” she said, flicking the switch on her recorder to off and tucking it back in her purse. “I'm sorry; it seems I've struck a nerve that I didn't intend to.”
“Please,” he waved a hand nonchalantly at her. “You were just doing the best job that you could with information that was new. Look at it this way…” he smiled and stood, offering her his hand. She took it with a smile, squeaking in surprise when he brought her close again. “It's just one last job before you get to work under me every day,” he said low in her ear before he began to press kisses into her neck. She gasped and arched her body into him.
Oh, this was a much better way of working out his grief, he thought, grinning against her neck.
* * * *
She moaned against him as his hand came up and tangled itself in her hair, tugging her head in the right position for him to kiss her more soundly.
“It seems no matter how much I tease and taunt you, you're a dirty little minx, coming in here in a dress like that,” he growled against her as he hitched the skirt of her dress up. She chewed on her lower lip and let out another moan as his hand slid up her thigh to grasp the swell of her buttocks. His other hand roved its way down her front and slipped to the junction between her thighs, the pads of his fingers brushing back and forth over the fabric of her thin cotton panties, where the evidence of her arousal was already beginning to gather. Oh, she was so ready for him to finally get his hands on her, all over her. “You want this, don't you? You want me to give you orgasm after orgasm until you can't see straight.”
“Yes,” she keened, rocking her hips against his fingers. His fingers weren't even inside of her yet, and she was already eager for them. She would take anything at this point, if only she would be able to find her release. She found herself more and more eager for his touch by the minute, and some part of her liked that.
“I could just press you against the glass and have my way with you,” David groaned into her mouth as they kissed again. One of his fingers slipped past her panties, and slowly began to trace her outer labia. She whimpered at the teasing touch, and tried to rock her hips against him to get his fingers to slip into her. “Would you like that? Getting a view of the whole city while I make you come?”
She was positively drenched between her legs now, and was panting softly from how much she wanted to orgasm at that point.
“Yes, oh, yes,” she swallowed when David bit into her neck, and she let out a guttural moan when he actually slipped a finger inside her. He avoided her clit, but otherwise was at least inside her.
“I'll have to keep that in mind,” David said, still only just stimulating her enough that she wanted more of him, more of everything, and became lost in her own pleasure. “But why would I give you that? Have you earned it?” Her response dissolved into a quiet moan as she felt him remove his finger, hand skimming over her womanly folds, not entering her again, but teasing until she was practically sobbing. “I don't think you have, Angela. You've been so naughty.” He swirled his thumb around her clit again, forcing her eyes to roll in the back of her head.
“Yes, yes, please,” Angela panted. “I'll earn it, I'll earn it, I'll be good, I swear,” she keened, trying to press herself harder into David's fingers so they would enter her more deeply. “I need to come, please fuck me, please, sir.”
She was playing on the fact that he wanted power, and he knew it, but it was nice for him to hear her saying whatever she thought would give her what she wanted in the long run. He pretended to contemplate it as he continued to circle his thumb lazily around her clit, just enough to keep her right where he wanted her, but not enough to give in to her pleas.
“Hmm,” he said in mock contemplation, “I suppose I could give you a little something.” He slowly slid two slicked fingers into her tight channel.
She actually sobbed in relief at the welcome intrusion, finally getting some of the friction that she so desperately needed, but she knew he wasn't going to let her finish just yet, and knew that she still had to earn her orgasm.
“You're so ready for me, Angela,” he growled into her hair as his fingers began to pump inside her slowly.
“Yes,” she hissed as she panted harder, her chest heaving from the exertion, her back arching into his fingers and rocking in time with his movements. “Oh, I'm so close.” And she was; his fingers felt so good inside of her and she was so desperate to climax that she was near begging for it, much like the last time they were intimate, when she was pressed against the passenger side of his car in a parking garage. She felt so naughty, and yet so... empowered by what they've been doing, that she felt like she was soaring.
“But you've been good enough to earn this, I suppose,” he added a third finger, and it left her a babbling, writhing mess, desperate for him to find that stroke that would send her careening off the edge. “You like to get me all riled up, but at the end of the day, you'll do anything I say if it means I'll let you come, won't you, my little minx?”
“Sir,” she rasped. “Please, sir, please let me come, sir.” She leaned further against the wall beside the couches, giving her just enough leverage to arch herself into him, feeling his hard length through his pants just as he withdrew his fingers. Though she whimpered in protest, her disappointment didn't
last long, as he trailed his hands up the skirt of her dress and closed his fingers around the waistband of her panties, clearly not interested in the long game, at least, not this time around. She let him slide the undergarment down her legs and shakily kicked them away. When he knelt down and pressed his face into her womanly folds, she had to steady herself against the wall, pressing herself harder against it as the pleasure of his tongue licking her sex, and his mouth kissing her clit made her entire body positively tremble with want for release that she wasn't necessarily sure that she was going to get just yet.
If at all, if he was in that sort of mood.
The way that she was left wondering whether or not she was going to be allowed to orgasm sent thrills up her spine, the waiting, the anticipation was almost enough to end things for her as it was. She carded her fingers through his short hair as he continued to lavish his attention upon her sex. She loved the way that his stubble felt as it lightly scratched at her thighs while he worked her, and she cried out when his tongue swirled around her clitoris.
Her thigh hung over his shoulder, and her back was against the wall as he continued swirling his clever tongue inside of her, stroking that little bundle of nerves that sent her reeling, pressing his fingers into her thighs with an iron grip. She writhed against him, feeling the coil in her belly tighten, knowing that she was one or two artful strokes of his tongue away from orgasm. She angled her hips, trying to help him find that last stroke that would send her toppling over into bliss.
“I'm not done with you just yet,” he growled into the flesh of her thigh, pressing a kiss at the skin there, still reddened by his stubble scraping there. He held her there and continued to lick at her sex teasingly, worlds away from dedicating himself to making her come, but just enough that she desperately wanted more. He looked up at her and licked his lips slowly. “I love the way you taste on my tongue,” he said, accentuating it with another long stroke of his tongue that left her squirming and whimpering. “But I love the noises that you make even more.” With no warning, he plunged his tongue into her, suddenly dedicating himself to her orgasm, hands gripping at her rear to bring her closer to him.
Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance Page 110