“First Renner, then you. Duane’s going to shit bricks over this.”
“If my ass shits anything, it’s gold nuggets.” Duane strolled over in his black suit and silver tie. Like he just walked off the Queen of England’s private jet.
Dorian grinned at the boss. “That’s my cue. Besides, I have a neighbor I’m trying to persuade into a date.” He shook Rigg’s hand, and stood.
Vaughn gave him a one-handed hug, and both guys left. Leaving just his boss, and the black cloud hanging between them.
Duane took Dorian’s chair, dominating the table like he owned the whole joint. His subtle scowl was disguised by a well-practiced poker face.
Vaughn could always read through those.
“Fifty percent,” the Brit announced out of nowhere.
He tilted his head.
“You keep fifty percent of my commission on all appointments, and I’ll fund your startup in Miami, if you’d consider expanding the business.”
He swallowed back a chuckle. The man is relentless. “Always dealing.”
“You can’t fault a man for trying. This agency seems to have a purge at the moment.”
“Thank you for the offer. That’s a real compliment from you.”
“So, you’re done?”
Vaughn nodded. “Effective immediately.”
The boss knocked on the table’s surface once. “Then since I’m no longer your boss, I can say you’re a wanker for leaving me in this position. But, thank you.”
“For what?”
“As slimy as a man has to be in this business, I’d never suffer servicing clients like Conway. So far as to say, I wouldn’t invite the likes of Hitler in my flat.”
Vaughn nodded. “You should thank Cora.”
“I’ll leave that to you.” He stood, fished a few bills out of his money clip.
“I’ve got this,” he interrupted. “Thanks for taking the chance on me on that cruise ship.”
Without a word, Duane shook his hand, strong and quick. Then turned and walked out, like he owned all of Dallas.
EPILOGUE
Vaughn
From Cora’s devilish smile and heavy breathing, she clearly loved when Vaughn spun her in the middle of their dance. Fast or slow, she kept up easily, and thrived on close proximity. He loved her flushed cheeks, messy hair, and light sheen across her chest.
Because that was the way she was—one hundred percent with everything she did.
All or nothing.
The fresh sea air blew in from their back patio door, giving them more room for their sensual dancing lesson. Of which she didn’t need any. She was as much a master as Vaughn.
Miami had plenty of Latin dancing venues, and reminded him of where they started.
He dipped her back over his arm, and relished her breasts straining against her dress. They begged for a kiss.
Vaughn lowered his lips to her skin, just where the fabric dipped into the cleavage, so sweet and delicious. He moved over to one plentiful mound, and stole a nibble over her dress.
She grabbed the sides of his head, and her smile had his dick stretching even more.
The music stole his inhibitions, and Cora stole his heart.
She crushed her lips to his, and yanked his shirt from his shoulders.
He shed himself of his clothes, and used his eager fingers to slip her out of her dress, letting it drop to the floor. Then with one hand, unclasped her bra and let her breasts burst free.
Cora stood there in only her strappy black heels, and a lace thong. Her hair piled high on her head, with several strands falling loose from the clip.
Without invitation, he lunged for her, and fused his body to hers. His expert fingers glided down her stomach, into the hem of her panties, and swirled the already swollen nub. He knew every inch of this woman by heart, and knew exactly how to make her beg and writhe in delight.
She bucked into him, and nibbled on his lip. Her moan sent him into overdrive, and he ripped the thong off her body.
“Damn,” she breathed.
“Exactly.” Vaughn dropped to his knees, and buried his face between her legs. Her clit needed expert attention, and he was more than happy to oblige.
Cora draped one of her legs over his shoulder, and dragged her fingernails along his scalp. Her gasp mixed with the music in a delectable melody he couldn’t get enough of.
He swirled and laved that bud into submission, using an occasional nibble to make her flinch and yelp. In not long at all, she exploded, and her creamy essence filled his mouth in an exotic dessert made especially for him.
Vaughn rushed to stand, and slipped his cock inside her, feeling the last remnants of her orgasm clench around him. Combined with the lazy bite of her lip, she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. His slow rhythm increased in tempo, and the frames on the bookshelf shook and rocked.
The one frame just to the side of her head contained the picture of her receiving the National Medal of Arts from the president the month before.
Both she and Tom stood next to the leader of the free world, in meritorious recognition for their significant contribution to the art society. The pair of them were the toast of many art societies, not to mention numerous Holocaust ancestor groups. Now admired by the world, and he just loved looking at her in that silver dress.
Almost as much as he loved this hot-as-hell look on her face. He plunged into her wet center repeatedly, restraining himself until he could get a second climax from her.
From her breathy pants and higher pitched moans, she was close.
Vaughn grabbed her ass, and rolled his pelvis under her, pitching her hips back, and rammed home.
Cora screamed his name, pulling on his hair in an exquisite pain. And burst on that last tidal wave of pleasure.
Which sent him over the edge. His sac tightened up into his body, and he spilled himself in her sheath, her spasms milking him of every drop.
His knees buckled, and they slid to the floor. She shifted on top of his lap, and fought to catch her breath. Sweat glistened off her glorious body.
Vaughn littered kisses across her face, and massaged small circles on her lower back. “You know I love you, right?”
Her smile shattered him all over again. “You better.”
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
She kissed his lips, running her tongue along his. “I want another round.”
He lightly pinched her ass cheek. “Try again.”
With a chuckle, she sat back, and cupped his face. “I love you, Vaughn Ayers.”
She’s it. My North Star.
The music stopped suddenly, and her computer switched over to another song, the speakers now blaring “Gorilla,” by Bruno Mars.
“What the…” Cora walked over to her desk on the other side of the room, and pressed a few keys on her laptop. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” He grabbed his pants, and started to get dressed.
“Tom, I’m going to kill you.” Her glare nearly cracked the screen.
“Tom?”
“Ever since he won that stupid Hackathon contest and successfully broke into the Department of Defense, he’s been showing off. The prick hacked my laptop.”
Vaughn froze. “Wait, do you mean he can see through the camera?”
Cora cast a knowing stare, but didn’t answer.
He couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. Then flipped off the camera. “Didn’t take you for a voyeur, shithead. Congrats on the Vital Mission.”
“I’m cutting that bastard off.” She pulled her dress on, and went to unplug the laptop. Probably to destroy it, or God knew what else the passionate Latina intended.
Vaughn caught her arm, and pulled her away from the electronics. “A very simple solution, at least for now.” He grabbed his shirt, and threw it over the laptop. At least the kid couldn’t see a thing through the camera anymore. “Admit it, love.” He kissed her forehead. “You secretly like your little brother bugging you, now that he’s not workin
g for you.”
“He’s more annoying now.”
“Just like brothers should be.”
“Just wait and see what I can do to his equipment with some paint cans.”
He chuckled. “I’d actually pay to see that.”
Cora pulled away to down another glass of wine. Above the bar hutch hung her uncle’s painting of the stone bridge over water, Kromlau Brücke. The one salvaged from Conway’s private black market collection. Now, finally returned to its rightful owner.
The song changed again, to “Love So Soft,” by Kelly Clarkson. An upbeat rhythm worthy of the best cha-cha. Or even a rhumba.
The best truce they were going to get from Tom.
Vaughn started to sway his hips, leading Cora into the steps.
She stared back, her glare starting to soften. Eventually, she relented, and let him lead her through another sensual rhumba, starting another round of delicious foreplay.
“I finally found the perfect dance partner.” He dipped her low, letting her circle around his thigh, and her hair skimmed the floor.
When she came back up, she scraped her hand down the back of his head. “One who keeps you on your toes.”
THE END
S
neak Peak from Tell Me What You Feel
The next novella in the Knights of Texas series
CHAPTER ONE
Riggs
The horse reared up from exiting the area, nearly knocking Garrison Riggs in the head.
The armored knight fell from the saddle, and scurried off with a curse.
Riggs grabbed the reins dangling from the mare’s neck. “Easy, girl.”
“Dammit, Riggs!” The manager charged over, his triple-chin shaking with rage. “That’s the third time that horse has thrown one of my knights! Are you doing this on purpose?”
“If he wouldn’t use those spurs on her, she wouldn’t buck. She hates them.”
“So, shifting blame again. We have a full house tonight, and I don’t have time to waste with an unruly mount. Put her in the stables, and shovel out every stall, now!”
A thousand comebacks raged through Riggs’ mind, but he kept his mouth shut. Marines had taught him that much, at least.
By the end of the show, his arms ached and sweat dripped off his brow.
“This looks glamorous.”
He looked up at the back doors.
His old Marine buddy, Dorian West, leaned against the door, with his signature smirk and dark goatee.
“Step up from patrols in the desert.” Riggs shook his friend’s hand, and slapped him on the shoulder. “How’s the cruise ship life treatin’ you?”
“Shitty. Which is why we’re here.”
“We?”
Dorian gestured to a second man behind him, with thinning red scruff covering his chin. “My friend, Vaughn Ayers. Fellow entertainment director on the floating piss bucket.”
Riggs shook the man’s hand, who was clearly out of his element with the wide-eyed expression.
“What’s wrong with the piss bucket?”
Dorian shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Same thing that’s wrong with this place. It’s swallowing you up. Not in a good way.
He scoffed. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me. What’re your plans?”
“Something new. Interested?”
“You need a breath mint for all that shit you’re talkin’?”
“No, man.” D chuckled. “You’re smelling the manure under your foot. What I offer is something more…titillating.”
“All right. Enough with that. Out with it.”
“I don’t think Duane has the cowboy look in his ranks yet,” Vaughn chimed in. “I’m sure he could use one.”
“I’m not a cowboy. Just cause I know how to work with a horse—”
Dorian chuckled again. “Your southern twang has grown thicker, too. You can certainly fit the image. If you can fit the lifestyle…”
“What lifestyle?”
They both smiled. “The boyfriend experience. We’re Knights…without the armor.”
COMING SOON!
TELL ME WHAT YOU FEEL
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Sheehey writes contemporary romance, and romantic suspense adventure. Water plays a crucial element in all of her novels, and she’s a strong advocate for Autism awareness & acceptance. She squeezes in writing time between chauffeuring around her two boys, and guzzling down French vanilla coffee. Her beloved husband keeps her relatively sane, and full of laughter. She and her family live in Texas.
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Novels by Susan Sheehey
Royals of Solana series
Prince of Solana (Book 1)
Jewel of Solana (Book 2)
Crown of Solana (Book 3)
Knights of Texas series
Tell Me What You Want
Tell Me What You Crave
Tell Me What You Need
Stand Alone Novels
Audrey’s Promise
Tell Me What You Need Page 11