by Louise Bay
She reached above her head, pointing at her nightstand. “Condom,” she said. She might think I was an asshole, but she didn’t mind my dick. I grabbed a condom and as quickly as I could, rolled it on. As I lay on my back, Harper rose off the bed and began to straddle me.
“I don’t think so,” I said, pushing her to her back. “I’m fucking you. You’re not fucking me.” I nudged her knees wide with my legs and pushed into her. Her eyebrows pulled together as she concentrated on not making the sound of pleasure I could tell was rippling below the surface. I pulled out and thrust in, wanting to set that moan free.
“If you’re going to fuck me, you’d better make it good,” she said.
Highly. Fucking. Irritating.
She knew this was so fucking good. I grabbed her leg and lifted it, going deeper, showing how good it was.
She bit down on her lip, still swallowing her reactions.
“Really? You’re not going to tell me how good this is?” I asked, panting, pushing into her, feeling her pulse beneath me. “You’re not going to say how this is the best you’ve ever had?” I slammed into her, pushing her up the bed, my jaw tightening.
“Fuck you,” she bit out.
“You know it is. You love my dick inside you, making you come. You can’t get enough.”
A deep moan ripped from her chest. Finally.
“There, you see? You just need to give in and realize how good I make you feel.”
She tightened around me, lifting her hips to meet my thrusts. A rumble vibrated up my throat at the dizzying sensation. “So. Fucking. Good.”
She scratched her nails so hard down my back it interrupted my rhythm. When I glanced at her, she grinned. I pulled her arms down and slid my palms against hers, pinning her to the mattress, and began to push into her again. “Watch your manners, Ms. Jayne. If you’re not careful, I won’t let you come.”
She raised an eyebrow. “As if you could stop me.”
She had no idea.
I stilled. “Wanna test that theory?” She squirmed underneath me, desperate for more of my cock. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“You’re an arrogant pig,” she spat out and turned her head to the side.
“I think what you meant to say is ‘thank you for fucking me.’” I moved on top of her, grinding into her. I might be baiting her, but really I wanted to scream at how perfect she was, how good she made me feel. All these months of denying I wanted her burst out. Harper Jayne was every bit as sexy, passionate, and greedy as I’d imagined.
Her breaths were short and needy and her sounds louder and less and less controlled.
“You’re beautiful. And sexy and—” I paused a second. I had to be careful I didn’t come first. “And you drive me crazy at work.” I thrust again. “Because I want to bend you over my desk and drive my cock into you. Just. Like. That.”
She screamed as she came, rippling around me, pulling my come from my cock, milking it, owning it. I couldn’t resist her and came, roaring her name.
I collapsed on top of her and savored the feel of my hot skin covering hers.
Rolling onto my back, I reached out and slid her into my arms.
“You looking for a high five?” she asked and I chuckled.
“Stop being annoying for five seconds and come here,” I said. She moved a few inches closer and settled into me. “So irritating.” I kissed the top of her head.
After a few minutes she pushed herself up on her elbow. “Do you really think about fucking me over your desk?”
I groaned. “You can’t question me on stuff I say while I’m fucking.”
“Why?” she asked. “Is this some rule I don’t know about?”
“Yes, it’s a rule. The first rule of dirty talk is that after you come, you don’t discuss what was said in the heat of the moment.”
I expected abuse in response, but she was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Oh. I didn’t know.” It was such an uncharacteristic reply. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking but despite the fact that three minutes ago I’d been fucking her, it seemed like prying.
I pulled her closer.
“Did you look at my revised Bangladesh report?”
Did she really just ask me that? “No.”
“No?” she asked. “You’ve had it nearly a week.” She ran her fingertips over my chest.
“No, we’re not talking about it now. Fucking hell, Harper, I just came like five seconds ago. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that fucking you is totally inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” she yelled. Were we back to the shouting already? “Get the fuck out of my bed.” She tried to push me off the mattress.
Jesus. I couldn’t do anything right with this girl. Except make her come, apparently.
I gripped her wrists and she started to kick me, so I rolled her to her back and pinned her thighs to the bed to stop her thrashing. “Jesus, woman, you go from zero to sixty in a millisecond.” She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.
“Get off me.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong and why you’re freaking out.”
“Unbelievable.”
At least she turned and looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You just told me fucking me is inappropriate. Like your body acted without your consent. And you expect me not to have a reaction to that? You’re an—”
“Asshole,” I said, finishing her sentence. “Yes, I heard you the first fifteen thousand times you said it.” I released her and rolled off the bed, pissed she was giving me such a hard time every second of every minute of every day. I was her boss; of course it was inappropriate for me to fuck her. I grabbed my shorts and T-shirt and dressed quickly.
“And now you’re just going to go?” she asked, propped up on her elbows, her perfectly round tits begging me to come back to bed.
“Did you forget that you ordered me out of your apartment?”
“Whatever.” She leapt out of bed and barged into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Fucking hell. She was a total pain in the ass. Beautiful. Talented. Sexy. Perfectly infuriating.
Had I been an asshole? She was irritating, but maybe I shouldn’t have told her fucking her was inappropriate right after we had sex. I wasn’t used to having to mind what I said with the women I was fucking.
I sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for twenty minutes for her to emerge.
“Hi,” she said when she finally came out wearing a towel. Her eyes kept flickering from me to the floor.
“Hi,” I replied. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I never meant to upset the women in my life but it happened far too often.
“Mean it or not, you did.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe you don’t realize how you come off.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m not good with …” How did I say I wasn’t used to having to interact with the women I was fucking outside the bedroom?
“Women?” She finished my sentence for me, arching her eyebrow.
“I don’t want to piss you off, Harper.” Yes it would be awkward at work, but I actually liked the girl. “I’m the person who signs your paychecks. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“You need to think about what you say before you say it.”
I nodded. “I’ll do better in the future.”
She stepped toward me. “Okay. The future starts now, right?”
I pulled her onto my lap. I cupped her neck and pressed my lips against hers. Immediately I wanted her again. It wasn’t as if we were in the office anyway. Here we were neighbors, not colleagues. I tugged at her towel and it fell away from her body.
“Yeah. The future starts right now.”
*
The next morning I got into the office extra early. I was trying to finish going through Harper’s Bangladesh report. I didn’t want any other reason for Harper to think I was an asshole.
“I said no calls,
Donna,” I barked into my speakerphone, then hung up.
My door burst open and I slammed my hand on my desk as I looked up.
“Max, you’re going to want to take this call,” Donna said. I seriously doubted it. Other than something happening to Amanda—shit. “Press line one.”
Instead of leaving me to take the call, she shut the door and leaned against it, a huge grin on her face. Amanda must be okay if Donna was smiling. In fact, this probably was Amanda telling me she’d been asked to her eighth grade dance.
Just as I picked up the receiver and punched line one, Donna said, “Charles Jayne.”
Fuck.
Charles Jayne was the founder and senior partner of JD Stanley. His investment bank didn’t use outside firms, but I wanted them to make an exception for King & Associates. I’d been hounding them for years. They didn’t use outside firms, but I wanted them to make an exception for King & Associates.
“Max King,” I answered, trying to keep my voice level as my foot tapped against the desk leg.
“I hear you’ve been making quite a nuisance of yourself with my director of global research,” a man with a deep voice said on the other end of the phone.
Shit, had I pushed things too far? My contact had given me the inside track on Harold Barker. Apparently he liked tennis, so I’d suggested he join me in my box at the US Open later in the summer. I’d invited him to the Met once when I’d run into him at a cocktail reception, but he’d politely declined. I was hoping tennis would hit the spot.
“It’s a pleasure to speak to you, sir. I’m not sure I’d describe myself as a nuisance. I just think that we could do a lot for JD Stanley, and I’d like an opportunity to show you what’s possible.”
“Yes, well, that much you’ve made clear,” he replied. “Which is why I’m calling. Come in on the twenty-fourth and tell us a little about what you do at King & Associates.”
Holy crap.
“Yes, sir. What—”
“Ten sharp. You better live up to your hype.”
Before I could ask him how long we had, who would be in the room, what he wanted to know, the line went dead. I guess when you were Charles Jayne, you didn’t want to waste a second.
I hung up and stared at the phone.
Donna bounded across the room. “Well? What did he want?”
“To give me the opportunity of my career.” Had that really just happened? Just like that, Charles Jayne had called and invited me in for a meeting.
“He’s going to hire you?”
I shrugged. “He wants me to go in for a meeting on the twenty-fourth.”
“I can’t believe it,” Donna said. “Looks like Harper was a smart hire.”
What? I stared at her, expecting her to explain.
“I’m sure your networking helped, but hiring Harper was genius.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Well, she’s his daughter, right?”
“Harper?” Harper Jayne. I’d never made the connection.
“You didn’t know?” Donna asked. “That wasn’t the reason you hired her?”
“Jesus, you must think I’m a real prick. I wouldn’t hire someone just because they had a connection to Charles Jayne. And since when do I get involved with hiring junior researchers?”
Is that what Harper thought? But how could she? She didn’t know about my obsession with JD Stanley. “Are you sure that Charles Jayne is Harper’s father?” I asked. “I mean, has she acknowledged it? Have you spoken about it?”
Donna blinked. “No, I just assumed, with her name and all. I’ve never mentioned it.”
“Could be a coincidence,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Do you want me to ask her?”
Did I? I wanted to know if there was a connection. Had she arranged the meeting?
My mind was a mess. Was Harper just here to spy on things before Charles Jayne decided to invite me to pitch?
“No, I’ll ask her. Can you call her in?”
I slid my palms down the front of my pants. I wasn’t sure if I was on edge from speaking to Charles Jayne or because I was about to speak to Harper.
A few minutes later, Harper walked into my office, Donna trailing behind her. “Donna, can you close the door, please?” She gave me a pleading look, clearly desperate to know the answer.
Harper watched as Donna shut the door, then turned back to me, glancing at me from under her lashes. Shit, my dick began to stir. I needed to focus.
“Have a seat, Harper.” I gestured toward one of the chairs opposite my desk. She took the one I wasn’t indicating. Of course.
“We need to talk,” I said.
She grimaced. She thought I meant about us. “Regarding a phone call I just had.”
“Oh,” she said, and she smiled.
I was going to have to just come out and ask her. “Are you related to Charles Jayne?”
Her eyebrows pulled together and she clasped her hands together. “I’m not sure what my last name has to do with anything.”
I sat back in my chair and exhaled. I had my answer. She was Charles Jayne’s daughter. Donna had been right.
“You’re his daughter?” I asked.
She stood up. “I’m not here to talk about my father.”
“He just called me,” I said, ignoring her glare. “He wants me to meet him and I’ve wanted to add him as a client for so long—”
“Is that why you hired me?”
Her voice got higher as she spoke. I was handling this all wrong.
“Is that why you fucked me?”
I winced. Christ, I could see how it might look that way. I walked around my desk and leaned against the other side, not wanting to get too close, despite her pull. I had to stop myself from reaching out and touching her.
“You haven’t answered my question,” she said.
“I didn’t know.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious. Donna told me this morning. And anyway, I don’t recruit …” How did I say her position was too junior for me to have anything to do with? “I don’t get involved with human resources stuff.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Be honest. How long have you been wanting JD Stanley’s work?”
“Harper, JD Stanley’s one of the most successful investment banks on Wall Street, of course I want to work for them. And you know better than anyone that they protect their research like it’s gold bullion. That’s why they do almost all of it in house. Any person in my position would want to work with them.” I could really do with her inside knowledge.
She stared at me as if I were toxic.
I tapped my fingers on my desk. This could be a win-win situation. “I need your help,” I said. Now that she was here, I may as well use it to my advantage. “I want you to work on the pitch with me. Help me land this thing.”
“Wow. You don’t waste any time, do you? We fucked last night and now you think I’ll help you get ahead.”
That’s not how it was at all. I thought she’d welcome the opportunity to work on such a high-profile account. “No, I just thought you’d want to—”
“Want to get used by a man who wanted to land a new client bad enough to sleep with someone?”
She turned and headed out of my office before I could respond. Once again I’d managed to say the wrong thing. It was becoming a habit as far as Harper was concerned.
Chapter Seven
Harper
I’d called Grace right after my fight with Max, and we’d met at a bar on Murray Street in Tribeca. I waved to the bartender. “Can we get more cocktails and a snack? Something with cheese as a major component.” The bartender nodded and I turned back to Grace.
“Okay, I’m totally confused now. You’ve been banging Max King, the person you hate most in the world?”
“You’re totally focusing on the wrong thing.”
“Rewind and tell me what the fuck has been going on.”
She was looking at me as if I’d just told h
er I’d decided to move to Alaska.
“I think I got hired by King & Associates because of my sperm donor.” I should have changed my last name. We’d never had any sort of connection, so it didn’t feel like his name to me.
“The sperm donor being your dad?” Grace asked and I nodded. “How do you know?”
“And he slept with me, like some kind of whore.” I shivered. “Well, little does Max know that my father and I only communicate through lawyers these days.” How could he have been so cold? I should have trusted my instincts about him.
“We’ll get to the sex later. You didn’t answer my question.” Grace tapped me on the arm, trying to get me to focus. “Who told you that you’d been hired because of who your father is?”
“Max. In his office.” I took a sip of my mojito.
She tilted her head to the side. “He said, ‘I hired you because of who your father is’?”
“Of course not. He claimed he didn’t know. But he was clearly lying.” He’d said himself that he really wanted to work for JD Stanley.
“Okay.” Grace paused, her eyebrows drawn together. “And you were sleeping with Max? How did that happen?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Late night in the office?”
“He lives in my building. He’s penthouse man.”
Grace’s eyes went wide. “The couple who fucked like bunnies? You banged that guy? Jesus, I’m jealous.” She took out the cocktail stick from her martini glass and bit off one of the olives.
I tried hard not to smile. She should be jealous. Max knew what he was doing with his cock, that was for certain. He probably should have hooked up with Grace in the first place. After all, her family’s connections were far more impressive than mine.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked. “Is he boyfriend material?”
“I have no idea. And of course not.” I placed my elbows on the bar and pushed my hands through my hair. “What was I thinking, fucking my boss? Now I have to quit.”
“He said he didn’t know who your father was. Wouldn’t he have said something already if he did? Is he the liar-y type?”
“Liar-y?” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s in the Dictionary of Grace. Look it up.”