by Tia Siren
“No problem. I’ll get back to you know as soon as I find out what’s going on. When money starts changing hands, it usually means something is about to happen,” he warned.
“Okay. I’ll be careful.”
After the call ended, I took a few minutes to process what he had said. The mob? Why in the hell would the mob be mixed up with a company that had been on the up and up? Maybe Jonathan had gotten bad information.
I needed to talk to Kendall. If she was mixed up with the mob, I didn’t want her anywhere near my company or in my life. I felt like I had gotten to know her—the real her—during our brief time together. Maybe she was clueless about her father’s dirty dealings. The only way to know for sure was to ask her directly. Sure, she could lie, but I would know if she did.
I needed to set the stage for what I hoped would be our last dance. I called my chef, asked for a nice dinner with a good wine and for the house to be empty for the evening. I was going to appeal to her on a different level. I wanted to connect with her and try to bring up the subject. I had gotten the feeling on several different occasions that she wanted to tell me something big. I would put her at ease tonight and see if that would get her to open up. I hoped Jonathan got to the bottom of things quickly. I didn’t like the feeling of looking over my shoulder.
I sent Kendall a quick text, letting her know we would have a working dinner at home before getting back to work, doing my best to ignore the idea that the mob was dangerously close, even if it was only by association. It was too close for my comfort.
“This is nice,” Kendall commented later that night, walking into the dining room of my penthouse.
My chef had done a spectacular job of setting the table and preparing a delicious-looking lasagna.
“I wanted to spend a quiet night in,” I said, using my most charming smile.
“I thought you said we were working.”
I pulled out a chair for her before taking my own seat. “A little pleasure now and again is a good thing. We’ve been all business for too long.”
After pouring wine in each of our glasses, I took the first sip and watched as she drank from her own glass.
“Thank you. This is very nice.”
I dished up our dinner and we managed to fall into that easy comfort we had experienced before. It was nice to hang out with her and enjoy a delicious meal. We didn’t talk about work and I didn’t bring up her dad. Not yet. I needed her to relax a bit more.
“Tell me something about yourself, something I don’t already know.”
She smiled and looked at me, her eyes filled with desire. “I think you know more about me than most people. There’s very little you don’t know.”
“I know your body, but I want to know you.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. I knew it wasn’t the wine. Not yet.
“I’m twenty-six, never been married, no pets, I kill more plants than I grow, and I have a real obsession with sexy shoes.”
I nodded my head. “I like your shoes. All of them. I like them best when they’re all you have on.”
“You should see the rest of my shoe collection.”
“Are you and your father close?” I asked, feeling we had gotten to a place where I could ask her more about the man pulling her strings.
“We are,” she said, a wistful tone to her voice. “Not as close as we once were, but he has been my rock for so long. I can’t imagine him not being in my life.”
“Is that something you anticipate happening?”
She shrugged. “You never know. He isn’t getting any younger.”
“No, you don’t. You can never take anything for granted. Does he live in the city? I can free up some of your time if you’d like to visit,” I said, doing my best to be casual.
She hesitated. “He does, but he’s a busy man and doesn’t have a lot of free time. We haven’t been able to spend any real time together in a long time.”
“I’m sorry. I can tell that bothers you.”
She sighed. “I’m a big girl. I can’t be with my daddy all the time.”
“You said your mom died when you were young. So your father never remarried?”
She smiled. “No. He had a couple girlfriends, but he always said I was his priority, and then his company.”
My ears perked up at the last word. I saw her flinch and knew she realized her mistake. That was good. She wasn’t lying. Her guard was down.
“I’d like to meet him,” I pushed.
She pretended not to be the least bit bothered by my statement. I liked watching her squirm a little.
“Sure. We can arrange for that. He’s, uh, away on business, but maybe when he returns we can grab a coffee together,” she offered, committing to nothing.
“I’d like to meet the man who helped shape the best assistant in the world,” I teased.
She giggled. “I’m not going to ask what makes you say I’m the best assistant.”
“I’d be happy to tell you.” My words were barely above a whisper.
We both drank our wine. The sexual tension was like a blanket pulling tighter with every breath. My eyes kept going to her mouth, watching her throat move as she sipped from the glass.
“What about you?” She practically purred the words.
“What about me?” I asked, a little taken aback by the question. I had been lost in a fantasy that included me licking wine from her naked body.
“I want to know everything about you. You’ve asked me about my personal life; tell me about yours. What makes Dylan Parks tick?”
“I would think you know that by now,” I said with a smile.
I loved the way she was looking at me. This wasn’t a ploy. I trusted my gut and decided to give her the condensed version of my life. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t find out on the internet.
“I’m thirty, never married, never been in a meaningful relationship, and I have no living family.”
Her hand reached out and rested on my knee. “I’m sorry. That must be very lonely.”
“I manage. It’s given me a lot of free time. I used that time to build my company.”
She was looking at me with something I wanted to think was admiration.
“You’re an impressive man, Dylan.”
Her gaze travelled downward.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“You’ve never heard it from me.”
“Actually…” I said, leaving the word hanging there.
Her teeth bit down on her lower lip, and I knew she was thinking about that night.
I refilled her glass and my own, wanting to keep her loose and willing to talk. I didn’t mind the flirting. That familiar sexual tension was ramping up. The house was empty and I planned on taking advantage of it. I deserved one night with her.
“There’s something about you, Kendall. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I have a few suggestions about what you can do with your finger.”
Her bold words nearly had me choking on my wine.
My eyes moved over face, to her chest, watching it move up and down. While I watched, she reached up and unbuttoned a button on her blouse, using her fingers to spread the fabric, showing me the top of a black lacy bra.
I was falling in deep. I loved the way she sparred with me and wasn’t afraid to talk in charged innuendos.
“Kendall, what do you want from me?” My voice was strained as I struggled to maintain control.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t think it is.”
“You’re being coy on purpose.”
I chuckled. “Coy? I don’t think anyone would ever say I was coy. What you meant to say is I am irresistible.”
She grinned. “I’ve resisted you just fine.”
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t. Admit it, you can’t resist me.”
“I could get up and walk out of this room right now.”
“You could, and I
would follow, and you would want me to.”
“Would I?”
My heart was pounding in my chest, lust making me feel a little out of sorts. I felt as if I had been given a shot of ecstasy. The woman had a way of making me forget all the warnings about her. I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting into her.
“I love how sassy you are,” I breathed out, my eyes on her mouth, thinking about what it would feel like to have those lips sliding up and down my dick.
“Do you like sassy, Dylan? I can be sassy.”
“I do,” I groaned, fighting the urge and losing out.
I was losing the upper hand. Somehow, she had woven a spell and I couldn’t remember why I wanted to dislike her or why in the hell she disliked me.
I closed my eyes, inhaling through my nose.
Focus!
She sipped from her glass, her eyes focused on me, challenging me.
I was so screwed.
Chapter Eighteen
Kendall
Thursday night
He was onto me. I could tell by his direct questions. I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t kicking me out yet but had a feeling he had his own agenda. I had to remember that. He was looking at me in a way that made my insides overheat. I was quickly losing sense of my own goal. It had shifted. I needed him.
Just one more time.
It was like stepping off the path in a dangerous area. I knew I was headed for trouble, risking everything, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was eager to walk on the wild side. It was one night. What could happen in one night?
“Kendall.” He said my name and I was lost.
He reached out, took the wine glass from my hand, and put it on the table before standing and pulling me up. Heat from his body reached out and engulfed me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before looking up at him. His hand grabbed mine, pulling me toward him, my eyes locked with his.
I didn’t think twice and willingly followed him. We walked out of the dining room, into the wide-open kitchen. The anticipation of what was about to happen was too much. I had a sudden attack of nervous energy. I gasped, far louder than I had meant to. He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around. The look of danger and fire in his eyes shocked and excited me at the same time.
“Dylan?” I asked, nervous about what I saw. I wasn’t sure if he was angry and leading me out the front door to kick me out or leading me to his bedroom.
He dropped my hand and reached for my waist, slamming my lower body against his, giving me a brief feel of the raging erection beneath his pants. Then he lifted me with a strength I didn’t know he had and depositing me on that long kitchen counter. He looked up at me, the fire in his eyes giving me the courage to let everything go. I leaned down, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed him, relishing in the smell and taste of him as my tongue leisurely explored his mouth.
His hands moved up my sides before cupping my breasts, massaging them gently at first, as if he were learning every curve before the caressing intensified. I deepened my kiss, giving into the passion that had been building. There was a wild woman deep inside. I let her loose, violently pulling his jacked down his arms, sheer desperation making crazy.
His hands shredded my blouse, dropping it beside me on the counter before moving back to massage my breasts. My mouth devoured his, my breasts heaving, needing more.
He dropped his hands to my thighs, pushing up my skirt. He pulled his mouth away from mine and looked down, grinning.
“Nope.”
I laughed, feeling a little predictable. My laughter died on my lips when his fingers went straight to my hole, pushing inside.
I groaned, letting my head drop back, my long hair brushing over my back. His fingers worked magic over my pussy, pulling at my clit, drawing a scream from my lips with the combination of pleasure and pain. I scooted forward, my hands going to his pants, desperately trying to free his cock.
He batted them out of the way, doing the job himself. He pushed my legs open, using one hand to guide his cock to my entrance. I was ready for him, knowing he would fit, looking forward to the pinch of pain that would come from his pushing inside.
He was gentle at first, watching me as he slid inside. I was wet and ready. He gently pushed on my chest, telling me without words to lie back. I went back on my elbows, looking down my body, watching him push into me. I could feel the first electric spark of an orgasm. I kept watching, more turned on than I had ever been.
“I’m so fucking hot for you,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“More,” I demanded, wanting to see his body completely pressed against mine.
“You sure you can take it?” His voice was strained.
“Give me everything,” I moaned, watching him slide home. I arched, sucking him in deeper, sparking my own climax. “Oh, Dylan,” I cried out, dropping flat against the counter as the orgasm rocked over me, squeezing him hard and deep.
He held my hips down while I convulsed on the counter. The orgasm began to subside, giving me a second to catch my breath. I went up on my elbows, watching as he slid out and then pushed back in.
“Fuck this!”
He pulled me off the counter and put my feet on the ground before bodily tackling me, taking me down to the floor. He pulled my skirt down before spreading my legs and burying himself inside me. I couldn’t move under the weight of his impalement. I moaned, my hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes as he rocked into me again and again. He was holding back. I dug my nails into his back, demanding more.
“Harder!”
“You can’t handle harder.”
“Yes! Yes, I can!” I cried as he thrust into me with enough force to slide me several inches across the floor.
He dropped and rolled to his back, staying inside me. The new angle touched new nerve endings.
“This way. You’re in control.”
“Wait, stop,” I moaned, trying to stop the orgasm from rolling over me again. I wanted to feel him inside me a little longer.
I loved the feeling of being mounted on the powerful man. He was completely at my mercy. It was making me heady. The power rush was intoxicating. Mingled with the wine, I felt like I could do anything.
“Your cock,” I moaned, licking my lips.
“Ride me,” he ordered.
I looked down and smiled at him, licking my lips as I imagined the many things I wanted to do to his body. I wanted the night to last forever. I didn’t care that we were on the kitchen floor under the bright lights of his track lighting.
I traced a finger over his nipple and down his flat stomach before moving back up to pinch his nipples, tugging them upward as I rolled my hips forward.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he grunted.
I smiled, loving that I had all the power. “I’m going to make you crazy. I’m going to make you scream my name,” I told him, reaching up to unclasp my bra, my breasts springing free. He immediately reached up and cupped both breasts.
I moved back and forth, slowly riding him, my head dropping back once again. The sensations moving through my body were too much. I groaned. My earlier mission to draw out my own release in order to tease him was forgotten. It was too good. I needed it right then. I’d worry about teasing him later.
Rocking forward and back, my pace increased with my panting breath. I ground my hips against him, reaching for the orgasm that wouldn’t come. I cursed, moving faster, chasing the elusive release. I heard myself moan in frustration, my eyes squeeze closed as I focused my energy on the sole intention of finding fulfillment. My hand slapped at his chest.
I felt his thumb move to the hard nub that was in desperate need of being manipulated. He applied pressure and began to slowly rotate his thumb in circles. My body went ramrod straight, and the orgasm I had been searching for flowed over me in a rush of heat.
“Oooohhhhhhh goooooood,” I moaned.
“Up!” he shouted.
I immediately jumped up, assuming someone had walked in an
d we had been caught.
“I—”
He grabbed me, spun me around to face the center island, and pushed my head down before stepping behind me, using his knee to spread my thighs, and pushing inside me. He turned into a wild beast, his body slamming into mine, pushing me against the counter. His frantic need was contagious. I pushed back into him, desperate to give him the release.
“Again!” He slapped my ass.
I pushed back, going up on my tiptoes to take him deeper.
“That’s it. Just like that.” He slapped my ass again.
I roared, feeling like a lioness, ready to match the lion behind me. He matched my roar with his own. Hearing his primal cry drove me over the edge. I cried out as he drove in impossibly deeper. His grunts and curses were the sweetest thing I had ever heard.
I sprawled out on the counter, unable to move, his body anchoring mine against the kitchen island. He slowly pulled out, dropping to his elbows beside me.
“Are you okay?” he panted.
I rolled my head to the side, my arms still spread across the counter, my cheek pressed against the cool surface.
“I’m great. I can’t move, but I’m great,” I joked.
He reached out and ran his hand over my spine before stepping away and pulling on his underwear. I grabbed my skirt, shimmying into it before looking at my shredded shirt and opting to just wear the bra. As soon as I was relatively clothed, I walked to the sink, found a bottle of cleaner and a sponge, and got busy wiping down the surface.
“What are you doing?” he asked, an amused look on his face.
“I’m, uh, sterilizing.”
He was still smiling. “Why? I have a housekeeper.”
My mouth dropped open. “No! I can’t have anyone else cleaning this up!”
With the counter effectively cleaned, I dropped to my knees and tackled the floor where I had ridden the man like a wild stallion. Dylan stood there in nothing but his briefs, watching me as I worked. I wasn’t sure whether I should have been embarrassed or horrified. The whole thing had been very unlike me. I was more of a bedroom in the dark kind of girl. This whole sex on the kitchen counter was new to me.
“Feel better?” he asked.
With a shrug, I turned. “I don’t know. I should go to bed,” I mumbled, and throwing the sponge in the sink, I fled the room.