by Blue Saffire
“I don’t believe this.” I sneer. “Have you even talked to Mr. Shoemaker? Have you asked him if he had his elderly tongue down my throat?”
“Our employee policies are not his concern,” he replies. “Stuart’s word is good enough for me. Why would he lie about this? You’ve been a great team until recently.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Because he’s a spineless, petty piece of shit?”
“Ms. Jacobs, there’s no need for name calling,” he admonishes.
“Oh, but trying to destroy someone’s career is okay?”
Stuart’s father straightens his tie, in the same haughty way his son did so earlier. “Phil from security is waiting for you downstairs. You have one hour to clean out your office before I rescind my offer of keeping this between the three of us. Phil’s been instructed to ensure you don’t take any proprietary information with you, so don’t bother attempting to do so. You can leave your keys and access badge with him.”
“So, that’s it? There’s nothing I can do to challenge this?”
Mr. Reed scowls. “Ms. Jacobs, as you know, this is a privately held company. I do not have shareholders or a board to report to. My decision overrides anything else.”
“We’ll see what my attorney has to say about that.”
He smirks. “Think long and hard before you go down that road, Avery. You and I both know how ruthless our legal team can be. If you ever want to work in PR again, I’d suggest keeping your name out of the press. You know how these things go; the truth doesn’t matter. Perception does.”
The fucking bastard is right. Bad press for a publicist would be career suicide.
“Best of luck, Aves.” Stuart Jr. gives me a little finger wave.
“Fuck you, Stuart.” I turn back toward his father. “And fuck you, too. I’m glad I didn’t make the mistake of marrying into this family. You’re both misogynistic assholes who clearly have no conscience.”
Mr. Reed returns my glare. “One hour. You can see yourself out.”
I leave the room with a two finger salute and a promise to myself to never get involved with a co-worker again.
3
Avery
“Fuck Reed & Associates,” my bestie, Heather, shouts. “You don’t need them.”
“Well, what I do need is a paycheck if you’d ever like me to get out of your spare bedroom.”
She grabs the pint of Chunky Monkey from my hand and takes a bite. “I already told you that you’re welcome here as long as you’d like. It’s been fun having you as a roomie.”
“No offense, babe, but I’m too old to have a roommate.”
“Not in New York,” she argues. “Especially Manhattan. Hell, I went out with a guy last week who’s still living with his parents at thirty-three. That’s a little weird, but a roommate is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed,” I assure her. “I’d just like to have a place of my own.”
“Why?”
"For one, I've never lived alone. I went from my parents' house to a dorm, to my apartment with Stuart." I look around her living room and gesture to the framed picture of Thor. “And two, you and I have very different tastes in home décor.”
Heather laughs. “Chris Hemsworth’s body is a work of art. No woman on this planet could deny that. That poster is far better than any Rembrandt.”
Okay, I’ll give her that. “And the Funko Pop! collection?”
She shrugs. “Those babies are an investment. Do you have any idea how much that bronze Ken Griffey Jr. is going for these days?”
I give her a wry look. “They’re toys. Besides, I remember you saying the same thing about Furbies. And Beanie Babies.”
She points her spoon at me. “Also an investment. If you don’t believe me, check eBay. People pay up the ass for the rare ones.”
“Yeah, people who have nothing better to spend their money on,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “Regardless, my point was that you have time to find a new job. You said you have some money saved up and you have a roof over your head. I’m sure you’ll find a new position at an even better firm. You’re Avery-fucking-Jacobs. Your reputation speaks for itself.”
I sigh. “I hope so. Who knows what Stuart is saying about me? Public Relations is a much smaller world than you might think.”
“Stuart is a douchebag with a pencil dick. Like anyone would believe his word over yours.”
“His father did.”
“That’s because his father is the original small-dicked douche. You have to forget about them, Avery. You know what I think you should do?”
This should be interesting. “What should I do, O’ Wise One?”
“You need to get laid,” she says matter-of-factly. “By someone with a huge cock.”
My eyebrows lift. “And how do you suppose I do that? Take out an ad requesting dick pics?”
Heather shakes her head. "No, smartass. Go to a club. Flirt with a hot man. Go home with him, fuck like animals, and leave afterward. No real names. No phone numbers."
“You want me to have a one-night stand?”
"Why not? You're a twenty-nine-year-old, single, gorgeous woman living in New York City. You need to hit the reset button on your life, and this is the perfect way to do that."
"I don't know, Heath. I've never really been comfortable with the whole one-night-stand thing. I don't think there's anything wrong with them; they're just not for me."
“That’s exactly why you need to do it!” she argues. “Trust me; there’s nothing better to help get your mojo back than a good pounding from a hot guy. Even better if he knows how to eat pussy since Stuart had no fucking clue.”
I grab the ice cream back from her and take a huge bite. “Okay, let’s pretend I’m on board with your plan. What if I find an attractive man that I’d like to go home with but when the pants come off, his goods are underwhelming?”
She smirks. “Trust me, Ave, if you can’t tell he’s packing while you’re grinding up against him on a dance floor, throw him back into the sea. Fast.”
I laugh. “Good point.”
“So when are we doing this?” she asks. “Does tomorrow work for you?”
“Tomorrow is Thursday.”
“So?” Heather shrugs. “This is New York City. Every night is a good night to go out, have a few drinks, and find someone to hook up with.”
I sigh. “I’ll probably regret this, but fine. Tomorrow it is.”
4
Liam
“We’ve arrived Mr. Maxwell
"Thanks, Brent. I'll text you when I'm ready for a pickup."
His eyes meet mine in the rearview. "Yes, sir."
I exit my town car and step right past the line of people waiting to get into New York’s hottest new club, Blanc.
The security guard opens the velvet rope, allowing me to pass. “Good evening, Mr. Maxwell. Will anyone else be joining your party tonight?”
I extend my hand. “Not tonight, Frank. Although, if all goes well, I’ll be leaving with someone.”
He laughs. “Something tells me you won’t have any problems with that, sir.”
I smile. “I never do.”
I head over to the VIP section, but I freeze as I glance to my left and spot the most magnificent creature on the dance floor. She's grinding against some blonde, putting on quite the show for every man in the vicinity. Her friend is cute, but she is absolutely stunning. Dark hair that falls to her waist in soft waves, pouty red lips that are perfect for sucking cock, and eyes so light they have this ethereal quality to them. And let's not forget about those mile-long legs or the more-than-a-handful tits that are spilling out of her tight black dress. She's hands down, the sexiest woman I've ever seen in my life.
I order a couple of drinks, watching her the entire time. I can’t quite get a read on her, which is unusual for me. I can tell she’s not exactly in her element here. There’s something...off about her. Yet, she’s all smiles and loose limbs as if she’s having the
time of her life. She and her friend finally leave the dance floor and enjoy a few drinks of their own, fending off the occasional douche that approaches their table.
I check my watch and see that it’s already eleven o’clock. I have an early meeting tomorrow, so if I want to spend the next few hours between this beautiful woman’s thighs, I need to make my move now.
Mark my words: She’ll be screaming my name by midnight.
5
Avery
Heather nods to something over my shoulder. “Avery, that hottie in the black suit is staring at you again.”
I discreetly turned in my chair so I can follow her gaze. Sure enough, the most gorgeous man that I’ve ever seen catches my eye. I bite my lip as I watch him take a sip of his drink, never breaking our connection. My nipples harden as he swallows the amber liquid and licks a stray drop from his lip. Since when is swallowing sexy? I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to a man before. I’m honestly not quite sure how to handle it.
“Go talk to him, Ave. He’s obviously into you.”
I turn back to her. “If that were the case, don’t you think he would’ve approached me by now? It’s been well over an hour since we first saw him.”
Her lips twitch. “Hold that thought while I hit the ladies’ room.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Heather stands up and grabs her little clutch purse off the table. “Nope. You stay right here.”
I chuckle. “Okay, weirdo.”
She winks. “Get him, girl.”
Huh? I’m just about to follow her to ask what she meant, but I stop dead in my tracks as Mr. Black Suit approaches my booth.
He nods to the space that Heather had just vacated. “May I?”
“Uh...sure.” God, I’m so out of practice with this. I work in communications for Christ’s sake. I should be able to get through a simple conversation without sounding like an idiot.
Instead of sitting across from me like Heather was, he slides in right next to me, forcing me to scoot over.
"You don't mind, do you? It's quite loud in here, and I'd rather not shout across a table to speak with you."
“Uh...no...I guess not.” Dammit, Avery, get your shit together!
Mr. Suit nods to my glass of wine. “May I get you another?”
I take a long sip to calm my nerves before answering. "No, thank you. This is actually my third glass. I should probably stop after this."
“I agree,” he says. “I don’t fuck drunk women.”
“Um...” For probably the first time in my life, I’m absolutely speechless. I’ve been hit on many times in my life, but never, ever, has a man taken such a direct approach with me before. I start to take another drink of my wine, but he wraps his long fingers around the stem of the glass, stopping me.
Together, we set the goblet back on the table, but he doesn't release my hand. "What's your name?"
“A...Angela,” I lie.
“A Angela?” His tone says he knows I’m giving him a fake name.
My face warms in embarrassment. “Just Angela.”
His fingers move to my cheek before brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Well, just Angela, I’m Max.”
I gulp. “It’s nice to meet you, Max.”
His whiskey-colored eyes twinkle as they look me over with appreciation, pausing briefly on my cleavage before settling on my lips. "You've never been here before."
There's no question in his voice, so I merely shrug.
“Why not?”
“Clubs aren’t really my thing.” Unless I’m dragging a client out of one, saving them from becoming the next gossip headline.
Max raises an eyebrow with a sexy smile. “So why now?”
“It was my friend’s idea. I recently got out of a relationship. She thought I needed...a night out.”
“A night out?” He moves a bit closer. “Is that all?”
I stare at him as he stares back at me, not saying a word. God, I could look at this man all day long. He's so damn attractive, and he knows it. Max's jet black suit is perfectly tailored, hugging his body so well, that it leaves no doubt he's built beneath the fabric. His dark blonde hair is purposely messy, in that freshly fucked kind of way. Hell, for all I know, he is freshly fucked. This man carries himself with an arrogance that would usually send me running for the hills but instead, my body is begging me to sleep with him. Although I have a sneaking suspicion, there would be no actual sleeping going on.
His wolfish grin tells me that my thoughts are horribly transparent. “Are you going to answer my question, Angela?”
I blink, trying to remember what he asked. “Which question was that?”
He lets out a low laugh and leans into my ear. “Are you here for a simple night out with your friend...or were you looking for something else? Perhaps someone else?”
My nipples pebble as his deep voice rumbles against my earlobe. Since my dress is backless and wouldn’t allow for a bra, if Max looks down right now, he’d know exactly how much he’s affecting me.
“Could you elaborate on that?”
He rubs his nose against my cheek. “I’d love to. I was asking if you'd like to leave here with me so I can eat your pussy until you screamed my name, dripping your sweet juices all over my chin. If you wanted me to fuck you with my nine-inch cock so hard, you would feel me for days afterward. If you'd beg me to keep fucking you until you couldn’t see straight. Would you like that, Angela?”
“I—” Shit, panties would be really nice right now. I’m pretty sure I’m leaving a wet spot on the leather bench.
Max licks a trail up my neck before biting my earlobe. “What’s it going to be? It’s a yes or no question.”
“I—” God, what is taking Heather so long? I can’t think straight around this man.
He pulls back with a twinkle in his eyes. “Text your friend and tell her you’re leaving. I have a room at the Four Seasons. I’ll have my driver take us.”
“I—”
I still can't seem to spit any words out, so I take a sip of wine. This time, Max doesn't stop me. He simply waits me out as I finish the entire glass. Heather is still not back from the bathroom which leads me to believe she's not coming back. I retrieve my phone from my purse, and sure enough, there's an incoming text from her, telling me to have fun with the hot stranger.
I clear my throat. “I have a few rules.”
“Go on.”
“Well, first of all, this is just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Neither am I. Next?”
“Second, I don’t want anything beyond tonight—even if it’s just physical. You can’t have my phone number or my address.”
Max’s eyes dance with amusement. “Did I miss the part where I asked for either of those things?”
God, his cockiness should be a huge turn-off, but it's not. It makes me want to find out firsthand whether or not his cock really is nine inches.
“Third, you have to wear a condom. That’s non-negotiable.”
He nods. “That’s fair. Any others?”
I bite my lip as I think about it for a few seconds. “No, I guess that’s it.”
He smiles and pulls his phone out of the coat's inner pocket. "Brent, I'm ready to head out. I have a friend with me. We'll be heading to the Four Seasons." Max ends the call after some more words and stands. "He'll be here in a few minutes. Are you ready?"
My thumbs fly over the screen of my phone as I text Heather, telling her where we're going. When I look up, Max is offering his hand, so I take it and slide out of the booth.
He leads me out of the club through a side entrance, where a black town car is waiting. Max follows me into the back seat and shuts the door.
“All set, sir?” the driver asks.
“Yes, Brent, we’re good to go.” Max rolls up the partition the moment his sentence is finished.
I can feel his eyes on me as the car pulls onto the busy Manhattan streets.
�
��So...the Four Seasons, huh? Are you in town for business?”
Max smiles as I turn toward him. “You could say that.”
“What is it that you do?” I nervously play with the thin silver chain hanging from my neck. God, why am I so anxious? I’m normally a confident woman; you have to be in my field. But this guy throws me off kilter.
He places his hand on my bare knee and gives me a predatory grin. “Do you really want to know that...Angela?”
“No, I suppose I don’t.”
Before I can say another word, Max is pushing me down against the leather seat, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I close my eyes against the assault and allow my other senses to take over. Every brush of his fingertips as they slide higher and higher, the pillowy softness of his lips as they move against mine. I find myself wondering why no one has ever kissed me like this before. Why no one has been able to ignite this fire that is blazing inside of me. His kiss is pure domination, dripping with promises of what’s to come.
I moan as I feel his hardened length against my thigh. Praise Jesus, this guy is definitely packing. I gasp when he palms my breasts through my dress, brushing his thumbs over my nipples.
When the car finally comes to a stop, I'm so lost in the moment, Max needs to pry my fingers out of his hair. We take a minute to adjust our clothing—and so he can adjust his hard-on—before exiting the vehicle.
The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor seems to be the longest elevator ride in existence. He removes a keycard from his wallet as we reach his room, and presses it against the panel until the light turns green. The second we’re inside, and the door is closed, all bets are off.
Max shoves me against the wall and attacks my mouth. He fumbles with the hidden zipper at the back of my dress while he continues controlling our kiss. He pushes the straps off my shoulders as soon as my dress is unzipped, causing it to pool around my ankles. I'm now completely naked—except for my five-inch heels—and he's completely clothed. I reach for his belt buckle, but he steps back before I have a chance to grab it.