by Stacey Lynn
He dropped his hands, reached for one of mine, and tugged me toward the door. “Now let’s go eat. Chop House is delicious and I’m famished.”
* * *
The Chop House was the sort of restaurant where couples went to celebrate anniversaries and birthdays. It was the kind of romantic, expensive restaurant where there were more forks than courses, scarlet red table cloths and black, cloth napkins folded into origami shapes and settled on top of crystal plates. Crystal champagne glasses were already settled at the tables, in assumption champagne—expensive and sweet champagne not the tart sort of chilled I would buy at the local liquor store—would be ordered for the romantic meals. Private rooms where wedding receptions and fiftieth anniversaries were celebrated among the closest and richest families and friends.
In short, it was the sort of restaurant I’d only seen in online photos and never stepped foot inside.
Perhaps that was part of the reason why I’d questioned Bennett would ever take me there.
We had nothing to celebrate, no relationship deep enough to warrant a trip to such a spectacular restaurant. Nor had we, at the time, been committed in any way that would explain his need to have us seated at a table for six, completely private with red velvet drapes closing us off from the rest of the main restaurant, giving us the best views of the city overlooking the river.
The table had been set for two, precisely like our reservation required. Yet as the host ushered us behind the curtain, my breath caught in my throat when I saw that instead of the table being set at opposite ends in a table for six, a smaller, circular table had been brought in.
Candlelight flickered and danced across the closed curtains once we were secluded behind them, a vase of beautiful and thick calla lilies settled in the center.
“Your table, Mr. Ashby,” the host said.
“Thank you,” Bennett replied, giving the host a look that suggested he get gone and get gone quickly.
The host nodded, almost bowing, and clasped his hands together in front of him. “Your server Maurice will be in shortly. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, awe thick in my voice at not only the gorgeous surroundings but the enigmatic man in front of me. At my house, Bennett had been wearing a wool coat, but as he peeled it off and hung it near our table, my mouth went dry.
Black dress pants, shiny black shoes, a thick black belt and a red dress shirt that matched the curtains. I no longer wondered where the devil on my shoulder came from. He was in front of me, dressed and wicked with his large and bulky frame, his powerful thighs and veins popping on the backs of his hands as he reached to help divest me of my coat as well.
“You’re flushed,” he said, his voice as husky and raspy as I knew mine would be.
“You’re hot,” I answered.
His low, rumbling chuckle vibrated against my skin and he pulled out my chair for me. As he helped adjust it to the table, he leaned behind me, lips brushing against my collarbone. “And you’re delicious. Sensual and seductive and much more glamorous than I ever thought possible. Every table we walked by tonight, heads swiveled in your wake, men unable to decide if they wanted to taste the creamy expanse of your cleavage or dig their hands into the globes of your ass as you ride them.”
My flushed skin burned brighter and hotter until I was the blue flame in the fire.
“Bennett—”
“Don’t argue with me.” His lips pressed against the top of my head and he stepped back. “I’ve got a dick so I know what they’re thinking, and my hands hurt from balling them into fists at the urge to pommel everyone who glanced at you for more than a fleeting moment.”
Coarse and rude, I still shivered at what he said. The confidence and arrogance in his voice told me he believed every single word he spoke.
“I won’t argue,” I whispered, barely able to catch my breath.
I picked up my menu, and then set it down when he moved.
He didn’t take the chair across from me. Instead, he moved the lilies to where his place setting was, picked that up, and brought everything next to me before taking his own seat.
“I spoke to the host while you were using the restroom when we arrived. There’s champagne and water on the way. Is there anything else you’d like to drink while we look over the menu?”
“No.”
His thumb pressed against my chin and he tilted me to look at him. “You’re smiling because I ordered you water?”
His lips were lifted into a grin, assuming it was the same way I looked. I shook my head. “No, I’m smiling because you’re sitting next to me, this restaurant is spectacular and the view is gorgeous.”
“It is. The view is the best I’ve ever seen.”
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me, so I knew he wasn’t talking about the twinkling lights and the river.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “You’re very thoughtful.”
He kissed me gently, and focused on his menu. “I’m also honest.”
I skimmed the menu, already knowing that I was going to be ordering a prime rib. The reviews on the prime rib said it was delicious and since I doubted I’d be here often, whether I stayed with Bennett or not, I couldn’t wait to have one.
Glancing through the list of a la carte sides available, debating between asparagus or roasted brussels sprouts, I jumped as his hand came down on my thigh.
Tensing, I looked at Bennett. He was focused on his own menu, pushing up my dress as his eyes scanned it.
“Bennett,” I whispered, when he’d pushed up my dress to expose almost my entire thigh. I fluffed the tablecloth, covering my skin and he chuckled in response.
“Sub,” he replied. His fingers stretched, spanning my thigh and he tugged on my leg, opening me to him.
“Shit,” I gasped, as his fingers reached the center of my legs. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want, whenever I want.” He set down the menu and a ruffling came from the curtains.
Our server, Maurice, walked in with a chilled, ice bucket of champagne and two waters. Without paying us any attention, he set to work, pouring glasses and setting everything on Bennett’s other side so he had access to the champagne. The entire time, Bennett stayed still.
It didn’t matter.
His fingertips were at the gussets of my panties, his fingers sliding between them and the crease of my center. My pussy clenched at the heaviness of this touch, the anticipation at what he would do next.
I glanced at him and saw no forewarning.
“Thank you for joining us this evening.” Maurice spoke in a beautiful accent I couldn’t place. Olive-skinned with jet-black hair, I assumed he was Italian, yet it didn’t fit his features that were more Hispanic. Whichever, he was young, younger than me, perhaps fresh out of college, and attractive.
As if Bennett knew the drifting direction of my thoughts, he squeezed my thigh, catching my attention. I relaxed beneath him and startled as Maurice slid my champagne glass in front of me and at the same time, Bennett’s fingers pushed aside my panties.
I flashed him wide eyes as my pulse jumped and thudded so loud I was sure Maurice knew what was taking place beneath the table.
Without any acknowledgement, however, his grip tightened as Maurice read through the specials.
My chest burned, breath quickened as Bennett’s fingers scraped against my swollen folds.
I curled my hand over his forearm as he slowly and calmly placed our orders.
I was splitting apart at the seams and he was so unaffected. The man was exasperating.
I dug icy fingers into his arm, gave him a warning as my orgasm coiled and burned in my lower back, spreading to my hips.
“Thank you, Maurice,” Bennett said. He turned and grinned at me, wicked delight and victory in his eyes. “Do you need anything Rebe
cca?”
I shook my ahead. If I spoke, I’d cry out. I’d give us away.
“I need your words, darling.”
He had to be kidding.
Two arched brows and he waited. I shook my head. “No.” I gasped. “I’m good, thank you.”
He said his good-byes, and shivering, I waited until he’d vanished behind our curtain.
“You’re evil,” I said, yet I widened my legs, and ground into his fingers as he pressed one inside me and crooked it, rubbing me.
My head fell back to the chair. “Bennett.”
“Sir. And remember, anytime anywhere, wherever and whenever I want you, I’ll have you. Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes, sir.” I gasped.
“Be quiet when you do. They hear you scream and you’ll gain attention.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.” He rubbed harder and the fissure holding my control split in half. I reached forward, curled my hand around the edge of the table and my head fell forward. My body sparked and tightened, trembled as the orgasm hit me, delicious and strong as I forced myself to remain quiet.
The water glasses shook, china and crystal clinking and tinkling as I rode it out, unable to move away from him, unable to move closer. I sat there, sweat beading at my temples as he leaned toward me, kissed my cheek, my jaw, my lips. “So fucking beautiful, Rebecca. I could watch you come every day for the rest of my life, doing nothing but watch you light up for me, and still feel like I conquered the world.”
“Sir.” I covered his hand with mine, dug into the strength of his hand and turned to him. He smothered my next cries with a kiss, his ministrations unrelenting.
One orgasm rolled into another. He swallowed my whimpers and I fell apart completely, sagging into him and then he wrapped me in his arms, his lips at the crook of my neck.
“And yes, before you find some way to twist that shit I just said, I meant every word of it.”
God. Damn. Him.
How? How did he have the talent to say such deliciously blissful things, in such a dirty way, that gave hope to how deeply he truly cared about me? But it’d been weeks.
Just weeks, days since we saw each other at Luminous.
How could he mean so much so deeply, so quickly?
It didn’t matter.
I felt the same.
New life, new year, new goals. He offered it all to me and I was taking it.
Pushing away the rational and the logical, I inhaled a breath, steadied myself and uncurled my fingers from the table and his hand and peered at him. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bennett
We need to talk were the least likely four words I expected her to say while she was still flushed and sagging against me.
Still, I slid my hand from her thigh and reached for my glass of water.
“We need to talk?” I asked, and took a sip.
She watched my movements, eyes flickering as she kept her gaze on my fingers that had just been on her and in her.
“Why me?” Her brow furrowed.
“Why you, what?”
I knew what she was asking, but teasing her was too much fun. She’d flush and grow angry and even while sated from an orgasm in semi-public, submitting to me when she could have pushed me away, I still wanted to bring out her sass.
Like I told her, I’d play all sort of games with her, as many as I could think of, while securing she knew what she meant to me.
“Why did you offer me that job?”
I slid the glass of champagne toward her. Perhaps some bubbly would calm the pulse still racing at the base of her throat. Hell, even her breasts were a shade of light pink as her chest rose and fell.
“Have a drink. Calm down.”
“I’d like an answer to my question.” Her voice steeled. Her hands, instead of reaching for her glass, went to her lap where she squeezed them into tiny fists.
Damn she was strong. She’d broken skin on my arm, and I couldn’t give a shit. As much as I wanted my mark on her, especially her ass, her marks on me were more delightful.
“You began working for us at eighteen. A summer internship in the general marketing area and worked in the mail room. The next fall, you took night classes and took a full-time job in our project coordinating department. Since then, you’ve worked for almost every single manager as their assistant. You know more about what goes on in my company than I do. The employees trust you. You’re not only intelligent, you’ve done all of that while finishing school, getting rid of what I now know is a completely shitty upbringing. You don’t trust men, yet you’ve given yourself to me willingly, completely, and in ways I know you never imagined. Does it shock you so much that I am astounded by not only your body, but your brain?”
“Well,” she cutely huffed. “That’s very flattering.”
“And I mean every word.”
I threw my arm along the back of her chair, leaning forward so she couldn’t see anything but me. I wanted to get her off, again and again and again. I’d meant to wait, meant to wait until we’d discussed this first, but Jesus she drove me mad. All her creamy skin and almond-shaped eyes that promised all sorts of secrets if you pressed and dug in just the right places.
I caged her in, grinning when instead of tensing, she relaxed and her shoulders fell.
“When my dad was raising me, he had a wife and son at home. He always made time for us. He created a successful company, and he never hesitated to let us know that he was doing it all for us. Since I’ve taken over, I’ve done nothing but build it to be something bigger and better. It’s been my entire life for the last five years, Rebecca. And now, I want more.” I cupped her cheek with my palm and bent lower, so close I could still smell her arousal and her light, sweet perfume wafting into the air. “I want what he had, Rebecca. I want a wife and a child, or more, and I want to run that company but in order to have all of that, I need someone at my side I can trust. I want that woman to be you. In the office and out of it.”
Her eyes lit with fear. “Are you—?”
“It’s too soon,” I said. “I’m not currently, tonight, suggesting anything more than a relationship with you outside of work, a partnership with you in the office. And time will make the rest of our path clear, but make no mistake, I want you at my feet and by my side.”
I slid my hand to her back, pressed it between her shoulder blades and pulled her near me, brushing my lips over hers, inhaling the scent of her, licking the taste of her on my lips.
“Jakobs’s job gives you an incredible opportunity. His company is strong, even if his indecision drives me insane, but I suspect that’s why he wants you, too. But make no mistake, you’re mine, and anything he can offer you, I’m offering you more. I’m offering you everything. All that I have, all that I am, is in your hands.”
She gasped and I took her surprise to kiss her. Perhaps keeping her senseless would work in my favor.
Her lips met mine swiftly and firmly and good God, this woman. She tasted of sweet champagne and all that was her. She whimpered against me, turning and placing her soft, chilled hands at my neck, holding me to her.
If I could have her then, I’d take her without thought of who could see. But The Chop House wasn’t Luminous, and while I’d love even more to take Rebecca there, run my hands along the full creamy expanse of her stomach, her breasts, while men watched and craved what I had claimed, we weren’t there yet, either.
She made me lose all self-control.
I wasn’t the least bit annoyed.
I deepened the kiss, devoured her, showed her with my mouth what I wanted to do to her later when she was spread before me. Bound and dominated.
Claimed.
Mine.
She pulled back, fin
gertips covering her lips, her chest rising and falling harshly, as if she’d been close to coming again. “Bennett, sir.” A mewl of pleasure falling from her delicate throat.
“Sub.” I groaned, spread my fingers wider at the back of her head, pressed my fingertips into her scalp and held her in place. “Say, yes.”
I put the full force of my meaning in my eyes so she’d know my full intent wasn’t saying yes to the job, but to me.
She covered my mouth with her fingers, the ones that were just on her lips. I kissed them gently as her lips tipped up into a grin.
“When I said I needed to talk, I only had one question.”
“What is it?”
“When we’re at work, will we still be under contract?”
When. She’d said when. Not if she took the job.
Heat suffused my chest. Victory burned deep in my lungs.
“Yes.” I cupped her cheek, leaned closer. “I plan on fucking you many times on my desk, on yours. I want the memory of you on your knees in front of me while I work. The contract remains Rebecca, always. The only time it will not come into play is when we’re making decisions that affect business. Then, I will only require your intelligence and your creativity and your organization. But after...”
I let the sentence linger with a wicked look, one she took immediately.
Swallowing slowly, she pulled back from me and reached for her champagne. “Your offer is very lucrative. Too much, I would say, especially financially, I would suspect.”
“You’re worth every penny.” Her contract was fair. It was a significant raise for her, but it wasn’t too shocking for anyone in a similar position.
“It’s more than I ever could have hoped for, Bennett. I never had career aspirations. I just wanted a simple life, a safe one with enough money so I could live comfortably.”
I took her hand and settled it on my thigh, squeezing her firmly. “Are you debating because I’m offering you too much?”
The thought was so laughable I forced myself to bite it back.