by Marni Mann
“If you leave right now, you’ll get there on time,” Will said from my doorway. “If you wait even a minute more, you’re going to hit rush hour.”
I grabbed the jacket and set of keys he handed to me. “If anything comes up, call me.”
“Even during your…meeting?”
Will was the first full-time employee I’d hired; he’d worked for me since the day he graduated college. That was seven years ago. He knew almost everything—including what this meeting entailed—which was far too much. But it was necessary in order to keep me focused.
And focused was what I needed to be when I met Tamra.
“Yes, even during my meeting.”
He typed into his phone. “I just texted you the address of the hotel where you’ll be meeting her.”
I walked past him, heading toward the garage while searching the directions on my phone. The timing of this meeting threw off my whole day. Tamra had scheduled it late last night, after some new, vital information had emerged. That was part of the reason I had Frankie come in so early. I was glad I did…having her ass in my head all day wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. It would give me something to think about while I was pounding Tamra’s.
“And Derek?” Will said from the end of the hall. I looked over my shoulder and kept walking. “About Frankie…wow. I knew she’d be hot, but I didn’t expect her to be that hot. She’s a force.”
I had to disagree. Tamra was hot, but that was a cheap description, for a cheap woman. There was nothing cheap about Frankie. She wasn’t hot; she was exquisite. She was pink ivory, the rarest wood I had ever gotten my hands on…though I hadn’t touched her.
Not yet.
“She only got better as the interview went on,” I said.
***
“The space Randy wants to buy is here,” Tamra said. Her finger circled the middle of her tablet, a screen that showed the breakdown of the lot lines. Her free hand reached underneath the back of her shirt and toyed with her bra strap. Her perfume didn’t ordinarily affect me. But from the moment I entered the hotel room, I’d felt like it was choking me—and not in a good way. “It’s in Hull, directly on the water. Depending on zoning, the pool will probably be rooftop, and every unit will face the ocean.”
“Six floors, three units per floor?”
Her eyes turned to my lips, silently begging them to kiss her. “You’re good.”
She already knew how good I was. I was just as ravenous when it came to my business, especially when Randy White was involved.
“I know the lot,” I said. “I looked at it a few months ago.”
“Why didn’t you buy it then?”
The reason was simple: zoning wouldn’t allow for more than six floors, and based on the price per square footage, it wouldn’t be a profitable investment. This proved they were both fucking idiots and how desperate Randy was becoming. If I told Tamra any of this, she’d convince him not to buy it. I wanted to witness his demise, not aide in his success.
“I wanted to save the space for you,” I said. “That lot will earn you quite the commission.”
She leaned forward, her nose skimming the bottom of my jaw. “Mmm.” Her tongue licked my whiskers. I wanted to tell her to back away, but I knew it would cut her off, and I couldn’t let that happen yet. “When are you going to let me start working for you?”
She already did. She just had no idea, and she wasn’t nearly smart enough to figure it out.
“I have a full-time agent. You know that.”
“Not for Timber Towers.” Her whine was so high-pitched, I almost covered my ears. “You’re hiring an outside agent for that building. Hire me instead.”
I wondered how she knew this. I hadn’t shared that information publicly. Will had scouted privately before he contacted the three brokers who he thought would be the best for our project. Frankie hadn’t had enough time to brag. It didn’t seem like her style, anyway; her portfolio did plenty of that without her having to breathe a word. One of the others had to have spilled. I’d have to find out which one it was.
“I need someone who’s affiliated with an agency and has the backing of a team of agents.”
“I can do that—”
My hands clasped her cheeks. “You know I take care of you…so stop.” It was my turn now. The tip of my nose grazed the length of her neck. That was one of my favorite spots on a woman. The ends of her hair brushing over my face, her breath so close, her groans vibrating under my lips. But with Tamra, I felt none of that. I felt nothing at all, actually.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “You do.” She unbuttoned her blouse and let it drop to the floor. Her bra followed before her hands found their way to my belt. Her hardened nipples taunted me. “Come take care of me now.”
She knew better than to take off her top and give me an order; that wasn’t how this relationship worked. When I was satisfied with the information she gave me on Randy, I would feed her my dick, but not a second before I was damn-well ready. Judging by the lack of movement under my zipper, I wasn’t even close to that.
“Did I tell you to strip?”
She froze. “No. I just thought…”
“That’s the problem. You didn’t think. You know better than to disobey me.”
“But—”
“Drop your hands from my waist.” She could handle demands just fine; she just couldn’t handle my rejection. She wasn’t strong enough, and I’d end up losing her as a source so I had to give her what she wanted, even though not one fucking part of me desired to touch her. After some mental coaxing, my cock usually responded to her. But there was nothing happening down there now. Not even an urge for her to suck down my cum with those shiny, plumped lips.
There was a reason for that.
Regardless, I knew there was a way around this. It would just have to be enough for her. “Since you didn’t wait for my command…”
Her sigh had a twist of sex at the end. “Have I been a bad girl, baby?”
“Get on the bed. You need to be punished. Before your ass hits that comforter, I want it bare—pants, shoes, everything off.”
Her clothes fell away as she moved across the room. Now fully naked, she jumped onto the bed, crawling until she reached the pillows. She stayed on her knees, her ass pointed at me, her eyes glancing over her shoulder. They widened and narrowed, a silent plea for me to touch her. When that didn’t stir a response, she spread her cheeks, giving me a better look at that tight little hole of warmth.
I backed up until I reached the dresser, the only piece of furniture parked across from the bed, and leaned into it. “Turn over.”
She flipped around, her legs wide, heels pushing into the mattress. Her hands rested on her navel, fingers softly tickling her skin.
“Tell me how wet you are.”
Her pointer finger circled the outside edge of her lips. She was teasing herself, the same way I would have done if I were giving her my tongue. She briefly swiped over her clit before she plunged straight inside. “Sopping.” She continued to slide her finger in and out of her cunt, her head grinding into the pillow, her back arching. “That’s what you do to me. You make me so fucking wet.”
Her eyes were closed as I moved to the end of the bed and rested my knee on the mattress so she’d know how close I was. Her neck straightened. “Add another finger,” I said, our eyes meeting. “Slowly…very slowly. Or I’ll make you stop.”
She went knuckle-deep with her right index and middle fingers and dropped her speed by half. Her left hand rested across her double-wide landing strip, waiting to be ordered to touch her clit. I knew her body; this was the only way she’d have an orgasm: friction mixed with penetration. Before I allowed her that, I needed to get her bucking with need.
“All the way in. As deep as you can get them.”
Passion was building inside her eyes. If I were to wrap my cock and shove it inside her, it would only take a few pumps before her legs would be quivering around me. But nothing she was doing made me want to
give her that—not her moaning, or her dripping fingers, or her need for me. None of it was enough to shake the thought of Frankie from my head, that fiery, fine-assed brunette with gunmetal eyes, and a spicy mouth.
“Close your eyes,” I demanded. “I want you to pretend your fingers are my cock and I’m pounding you.”
“Baby…” she groaned.
“Twist your wrist each time you pull out like I would do with my hips.”
“Ahhhh!” she screamed. “Fuck!”
“Now faster.”
Her toes bent as her heels dug into the mattress, her ass lifting off the bed every few seconds. Her breathing was labored. She wasn’t in control of what was happening inside her.
It was time.
“Touch your clit.”
“Yessss,” she hissed. A second scream shot from her lips as her fingers landed on the sensitive spot
“Rub it.”
She swirled over that hardened bud as her fingers dove and surfaced. I could smell the thickness of her arousal in the air. Her nipples were growing even tauter. “Fight off that orgasm that’s building inside you and just enjoy how fucking good this feels.”
“Let me come,” she begged.
“Show me how fast and deep you can take me first.”
Her hips lifted, giving me a better angle to see her pussy. Her wetness coated her fingers and the inside of her thighs. The outside of her hole clenched around her knuckles. The sloshing-plunging-screaming made one hot fucking noise. I could practically feel the heat and slickness on my cock.
But it wasn’t enough. And neither was she.
“Ahhh,” she breathed.
“Rub your clit as fast as you’re finger-fucking yourself.”
Her teeth stabbed her bottom lip, her breasts bouncing as the speed of her rubbing and stroking traveled in waves over her body. I could tell she was seconds away, holding off because I ordered her to. I didn’t think she could wait much longer.
She wouldn’t need to.
“Come for me.”
“Ohhh, fuck!” she cried out, her stomach rippling as the orgasm tore through her. Her back arched again; her pussy bucked against her fingers. My name was shouted from her lips.
Women were beautiful when they came. Even Tamra.
I waited until she fell flat on the bed before I moved to her side. She latched onto my hand, pulling it to her face. “Thank you, baby.” She kissed my thumb, her eyes darkening with each peck. Her tongue licked around the base of my nail, down the right, then left side of my finger.
Her mouth was asking for my dick. I didn’t give her words a chance to do the same.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Disappointment crossed her face. I traced her jaw with my wet thumb, giving her a touch of the tenderness she craved before I moved to the door. “I’ll call you.”
She nodded. “You’d better.”
Back in the driver’s seat, I pulled up Hayden’s name and started a new text message:
Hull is the next location.
FIVE.
FRANKIE
WITH TWO LARGE to-go coffees and a bag of donuts in my hands, I slid out of the SUV and thanked Norm for the ride. Outside the door of Anna’s building, I pushed the button for her apartment. I’d done it so many times before, my fingers automatically knew where to find her name. “It’s me,” I said when the intercom clicked on.
“Are those donuts in that bag?” she asked from inside.
“What? No.” I’d forgotten about the recently-installed video camera next to the call box and the monitor by her front door. I’d been bringing her sweets every Thursday for the last nine years. I would have thought she’d eventually stop asking what was in my bag, whether I was downstairs or walking into her apartment. But that just wasn’t Anna, and it was one of the many things I loved about her. “They’re, ah…”
“Frankie Jordan, don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can’t stop myself at just one, and I know you brought me at least two. I’ve been walking on the tread every godforsaken day to burn off the cinnamon buns you brought me last week.”
Her “tread” was the treadmill I had delivered to her apartment a few months ago after she complained of stiffness in her joints. I hoped the exercise would help ease some of the pain. Today was the first time she had spoken of using it. It was a good sign.
“We can talk about the donuts you’re not going to eat when I get upstairs,” I told her.
A buzz came through the speaker, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. I stepped off the elevator on the seventh floor and smelled a hint of potpourri as I walked down the hall. That was the scent of her home, one that hadn’t changed in all the years I’d been coming here. Her furnishings hadn’t changed, either. She had the same white and blue doily on the table in her foyer, and the peach candle I had given her as a gift when I was ten sat on top of it. She refused to light it. The super in her building had offered to update her entire unit with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, new paint and hardwood floors. She wouldn’t let him. She didn’t see a need to change the mustard fridge and stove that somehow still functioned, or the shag carpet, or the faded yellow walls.
Change made her break out in hives.
“Get over here right now and hug this old bag of bones,” she said. She stood in the living room, her arms crossed over her petite waist. The only makeup she wore was a smear of pink lipstick. She called it her “splash of color,” since she only ever wore white shirts.
I closed the door behind me, set the treats on the coffee table and fell into her embrace. Anna didn’t smell of potpourri; her scent was a strong blast of cherry blossoms. It didn’t matter what perfume she sprayed on her clothes or what soap she washed with, the flowery aroma never died. Whenever I got a whiff of it outside this apartment, memories of her would immediately flood my mind.
“Sit,” she said, finally releasing me, “before the coffee gets cold.”
I took my usual spot in the corner of the couch. She sat in the stiff chair across from me. The padding in both needed to be replaced, and in a few minutes she would complain of back pain. But she would never consider getting them reupholstered, or replacing them with something more comfortable.
“How did Dad’s doctor appointment go?” she asked. She separated the four donuts onto two appetizer-sized plates, knowing without asking which flavors I had gotten for her.
“The doctor told him he’s working too much, which is nothing new, and that he needs to find a way to relax.”
“Don’t tell me he’s taking up yoga?”
“That’s what he should be doing, but he’s taking his girlfriend to Croatia instead.”
“Croatia?” Anna shook her head and laughed. “Is this a new girlfriend, or the same one he had last week?”
“A new one, I think. She’s twenty-two, or maybe she’s twenty-one.” It was odd enough to think about that, let alone to say it out loud.
“So was the last one.”
“Good point.” I rolled my eyes for effect, though I didn’t have to. Anna knew how I felt about the women my father dated. “I wish the doctor had told him he needed to retire. He’s still telling me how to operate things and unwilling to give up even a little control. It’s making me crazy.”
Anna sat back in her chair, holding the plate under her chin to catch the sugar that fell. “He trusts you, Frankie, but to him, you’re still his little girl—and you’re mine, too.” A look of complete and unconditional love crossed her face. “It’s hard for him to allow you to run the whole show when he’s been the ringmaster for all these years.”
“I’m twenty-seven…I’m hardly his little girl anymore.” I shoved a piece of strawberry donut into my mouth and talked around it. “I’ve been working for him since I was eight. I know what I’m doing; he just won’t give me a chance to prove it.”
“No, no, my dear.” Her loose, grey curls bounced when she uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them. “You’ll always be our little girl, no
matter your age.”
The emotion in her voice didn’t go unnoticed, or the way it filled her delicate eyes. Anna had been in my life since I was four, when my father was faced with the news that my mom wasn’t ever coming back. He couldn’t raise a kid and run a successful business at the same time, so he hired Anna as my nanny. She would never replace my mom, nor did she try to, which was why I think I loved her so much. Still, she was the closest thing I had to a mother. Over the years, our relationship had evolved into a true friendship, and now it was my turn to care for her.
“I know,” I whispered. It was difficult for me to express how much she meant to me, so I hardly ever did. I’d inherited that block from my father. While I was growing up, he didn’t share his feelings. Naturally, I learned not to share mine. Anna had tried so hard to change that, but she wasn’t able to, so I tried to show her how I felt whenever I could.
“What do you have cooking this week?” she asked, purposely changing the topic.
I washed down the donut half I’d crammed in with a large swig of coffee. “I had a big meeting yesterday with a developer. His name’s Derek Block, and his building is exactly what I need to show Dad how much I can manage. It also happens to be the most beautiful residential high-rise in Boston.”
Of course, that would mean I’d be working closely with Derek. The impact of that thought made everything inside me start to flutter. I hadn’t been able to get him off my mind since I’d left his office the morning prior. It was the way he had looked at me, the way my body had responded to his presence. My ex-boyfriend, Reed, had never made me feel that way, not even in the beginning of our relationship when things had been perfect. Derek was nothing like him—and being a potential client, he was certainly off limits. So why was I consumed by thoughts of him rather than thoughts of his building?