by Amelia Wilde
“You stay in position.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
He drags the pad of a single finger down the length of my opening and I shove my knuckles into my mouth to keep from crying out.
“You’re very wet,” he comments, in the same tone that he might say, “It’s raining out.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“You like this.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“You need this.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“Do I need to remind you what happens when you break the rules?”
“No, Mr. Hunter.”
“Twenty strokes for appalling behavior. Move out of position, and we’ll start over.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
The words have barely had a chance to leave my mouth before his hand crashes down against my ass, the pain hot and stinging and sharp. It comes down again a moment later on the other cheek. Again. Again. Again. He keeps a steady rhythm, my ass heating up under his strikes as my pussy does the same, the juices collecting, dripping down the inside of my thighs. I grip the desk, trying to stay still, but something has to give. The pressure needs an outlet. I shout around my own fingers as the pain builds, builds, Jesus Christ it’s so exquisite, I want more, I need more, I love him.
He reaches twenty and there are tears in my eyes and my legs shake from trying to stay in position. There’s the sound of his zipper and then he dips the head of his cock into my juices, lines it up with my opening.
“Beg.”
“Please, fuck me,” I say, trying to push myself back onto him. He holds me in place, his hands on my waist.
“Excuse me?”
“Please, fuck me, Mr. Hunter.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because I belong to you.”
“That’s right,” he answers. “You belong to me.”
On the last word me he thrusts into me with all of his strength, filling me and stretching me and bottoming out and I catch my own cries with my hand because he is consumed with claiming me.
Then he pulls at me, turning me, lifting me up in his strong, muscular arms, and then laying me back down on a bed of my own clothes.
“Spread your legs.”
I spread them wide, my hands on my knees, pressing.
“Please,” I whisper, and he bends toward me and fills me again, this time touching my face, my neck, my breasts, he’s kissing me, biting me, licking me, sucking at every available inch of me and stretching me while he sends us careening toward the peak of desire, climbing, climbing…
My muscles tense around him and release as I explode. He covers my mouth this time so that the people in the bookstore and the café next door can’t hear us. He follows suit several moments later as I descend from my own high, going in deeper than ever as his hips jerk uncontrollably.
When he’s spent he lays his head down against my shoulder for a moment before standing up and pulling along with him. He helps me put my clothes back on.
A wicked grin forms across his face. “If we’re going to continue this, we should go back to the hotel.”
“Only if we can get there fast,” I say, grinning back.
We head toward the door.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, reaching for his hand.
“What is it, Cate? Anything.”
I bite my lip. I’m going to sound like an idiot. “I love the building…but I don’t want it.”
Jax’s face falls. “You don’t?”
“No. If I’m going to run a company like this, I want to do it in New York, where I can be with you.”
A smile grows on his face, and he tilts his head back and laughs. “You’re unbelievable. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I hope you never do.”
46
Jax
There’s nothing in the world I want more than to drive Cate back to my hotel room and fuck her all day and night, stopping only to eat and maybe shower…then fuck her in the shower…then kiss her, then spend several hours telling her how magnificent she is, how she is the only one for me, how I will never take her for granted, not for one day, not for one minute, not for one second.
I can tell she wants to go back there, too.
But there’s one more thing I need to do.
I make a right-hand turn at the next block after the storefront and turn around, heading back the way we came, back toward Bee’s house.
“The hotel is the other way. Did you get turned around?”
“No.”
“Where are we going?”
“Are you always this impatient?”
“Yes! Tell me where we’re going.”
“There’s one more thing I need to do at your sister’s house.”
“Pick up the flowers you got for me?”
“That, and something else.”
Every time I glance over at Cate during the drive, she’s grinning, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her cheeks blushed and happy.
When we pull up to the house, her eyes widen. There are several vehicles parked by the curb, and people are coming and going, carrying packages and pieces of furniture.
“What is this?” She looks at me, not quite believing it.
“A baby gift for your sister and her husband.”
“That’s way more than one gift.”
“You’re right.” Looking at the constant flow of people and things now, I think it might be a bit much. “They’re not obligated to keep any of it, if they don’t want it or need it.”
“Are you kidding? Bee’s probably in heaven right now. The babies were born before they could plan a shower, so they’re having to buy everything as they go.”
Relief. I’m not going to come off looking like a total asshole, then.
“Let’s go in.”
“Okay…”
Cate’s voice is still a little wary, but she follows me in through the door. Bee, wearing one of the babies in a wrap close to her chest, comes to greet us, squealing with excitement.
“Jax—tell me right now. Did you send us all this stuff?”
“I did.”
“Thank you!” Bee pulls my face toward her and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you. Cate must have told you that we didn’t get a chance to have a baby shower.”
“She didn’t, actually…but I’m glad I didn’t send a truckload of things you already had.”
Bee’s eyes widen. “You sent all this even though—” She stops herself. “Never mind. We can talk about all this later. Dex?”
Dex appears from down the hallway. “They’re almost done setting up the two cribs in the nursery.” He has the other baby cradled over his arm. It looks odd to me, holding a baby that way, but what the hell do I know? Not a thing.
“Hey, Jax. Heard this was from you. Can’t thank you enough, man.”
“You’re more than welcome.” I look back toward Bee. “Are they here?”
“Is who here?” says Cate, looking suspiciously between the three of us.
“They’re here,” Bee says, her smile lighting up her face. “In the backyard garden. Come on.”
Bee leads the way through the house and out the backdoor, where there’s a beautifully maintained lawn and garden.
“Wow, Bee,” I say. “You’ve spent a lot of time on this.”
She wrinkles her nose. “We pay a guy. I hate bugs.”
“Well, he’s done a great job.”
Now I’m wasting time. After the amazing fuck, how can I still be nervous? I can guarantee the outcome.
Almost.
Bee and Cate’s parents are sitting on two lawn chairs near an outdoor fireplace, and they both stand up as we approach. Cate’s father shakes my hand again, his eyes twinkling. I may have let them in on what could be happening today—if Cate decided she wanted to be with me after all.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad,” Cate says, hugging them both. “This is my boyfriend, Jax.”
“We’ve met,” says her Dad, then
guffaws loudly.
“What?”
“This morning.”
“Why—?”
I clear my throat, and Cate’s family steps back a couple of paces, all of them smiling almost freakishly large smiles, and she crosses her arms, looking at all of their faces, then back to me.
“Catherine Schaffer,” I begin. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you were someone I had to have in my life.” My throat tightens with emotion. “And I know we haven’t known each other a very long time, but—” I say, my love for her crashing into me again. Cate’s family bursts into laughter, and Bee covers the ears of the baby in her wrap.
“Language, language,” she scolds playfully.
I wipe a stray tear from my eyelashes and continue. “I didn’t need to know you for a long time to know that I wanted to be with you always. So…” I get down to my knee, and Cate clasps her hands in front of her, her face glowing with delight, her eyes shining with tears. “Cate, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she shrieks, barreling into me so fast I almost fall over.
“You haven’t seen the ring yet!”
“I don’t care about the ring!” she shouts into my ear, and her entire family roars with laughter. She kisses the side of my neck and hugs me so hard that I start to tip over again, and her Dad comes over, offering me a hand to get up.
Once we’re both standing, Cate still giddy with happiness, I pull the ring box from my pocket. I had my personal jeweler come to the penthouse at three in the morning the day before I was supposed to leave so I could select it. It’s not the most ostentatious diamond—I didn’t think she’d like that—but the band is intricate, the details stunning.
She gasps, then claps her hands when she sees it, her calm and collected self slipping away.
Once I’ve slipped the ring onto her finger, Cate throws her arms around my neck, kissing me hard, and her family looks away, giving us a moment to ourselves.
“You had this the entire time?” she whispers in my ear. “Even when you didn’t know what I would say?”
“I hoped you would still love me. I hoped you would say yes.”
“I’ll always say yes. Every single day. I love you, Mr. Hunter.”
The light in her eyes says it all.
Epilogue
Cate
Three months later
I get to the office an hour early, coffee in hand, muscles loose and limber from a hell of a workout with Carl this morning. That guy is something else. It’s like he wants to punish me for making him get up early, even though I know for a fact that the early mornings with Jax and I are making him a fortune.
We laughed hard when we found out we’d been using the same personal trainer the entire time we were getting to know each other. New York City is a sprawling metropolis, but it’s like the rest of the world—it gets smaller every day.
The office is silent, dark, and it smells like fresh carpet and new furniture. As I walk through, flipping on the lights, I breathe it all in.
I’ve dressed for today—this very important day—in red. My top is a vivid color that can’t help but stand out, and it’s contained only by the neutral color of my skirt and jacket. No black for me.
Inside my office, I stand for a moment beside the window, looking at the city streets below. People are coming and going, hurrying down the sidewalk. It’s Monday morning in New York, and the workday is about to begin.
I can’t wait.
The sound of movement behind me catches my attention, and then two hands I know well slide around my waist, followed quickly by a kiss on the side of my neck.
I turn and press my lips into Jax’s cheek. My husband. My partner. My best friend.
“How does it look?”
“As perfect as it did last night,” I laugh. I made excuses to finalize this and that detail until 9:00 last night, when Jax finally dragged me home to the penthouse. He said he’d waited far too long that day to be with me, by which he meant “spend an hour in bed together.” I was only too happy to go along with that plan.
“You’re going to be amazing.”
I have butterflies in my stomach.
“I hope so. I hope everything goes smoothly today.”
“With Catherine Hunter running the operation, I don’t see how it could be any other way.”
I turn in his arms and clasp mine around his neck, kissing him long and slow and deep. When it’s over, he takes a big breath in and looks down into my eyes, a familiar glint in his.
“Oh, stop it,” I say, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Not here. Or at least…not now. They’ll be here any minute!”
“All right,” he says, grinning at me. “I’ll be on my way. I wouldn’t want the employees to be intimidated by my presence.”
I roll my eyes at my husband, then take him in, the cut of his chin, the blue eyes with endless depth, the lusty half-smile.
“I’ll see you at 5:00?”
“Not a moment later. I won’t have you working yourself to death,” he says, turning for the exit.
“How could I stay, when I’m coming home with you?”
“That’s the right answer, Mrs. Hunter.” One more sultry grin, and he’s out the door.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath.
Ten hours of work is ahead of me, followed by a lifetime with Jax Hunter.
It doesn’t get any better than that.
Dirty Royal
1
Jessica
The Purple Swan is on fire tonight.
Not literally, of course. But there’s clearly a heated kind of energy zipping through the ultra-exclusive dining and dancing club in the heart of New York City tonight. It’s evident everywhere—radiating from the couples swaying on the dance floor, emanating from the groups of twenty-somethings laughing raucously at the white linen–covered tables, and even projecting through the waiters who move double-time across the room in their spotless Swan uniforms, black jackets with crisp white shirts, with trays filled with glasses of sparkling drinks and plates of Michelin-star quality food so meticulously arranged it’s almost a shame to eat it.
That fire embodies everyone, the drinks and the food and the wild purposeless celebration of the night filling my friends to the brim. Their laughter is loud as they order delicacy after delicacy and send away piles of empty plates, their drinks never running dry.
It touches me, too.
But not like it touches them.
It’s like my friends are out splashing and having fun playing in the ocean while I’m left standing on the shore, the waves lapping at my toes but never coming up over my ankles.
My friends love me—I seldom if ever doubt that—but there’s a barrier existing between us that I’ll never quite cross, no matter how often I get invited to the Purple Swan, no matter how often I borrow a new couture dress from my roommate, no matter how loudly I laugh along with them to their stories and jokes.
Everyone sitting at the table around me tonight, including my date—a nervous guy named Rick who has a pleasant enough face but no charisma—belongs to the top one percent of the wealthiest people in the country, if not the world.
Except me. I know how to play the part.
“Jessica!” calls Christian Pierce from across the table, cheeks flushed pink and eyes glistening from the numerous drinks he’s downed over the course of the evening. “Where are you, sweet thing?”
I can’t help but laugh. Christian can get away with saying that shit, but it’s only because we were part of a close group of friends at boarding school. That makes me sound upper crust, but don’t let it fool you. A scholarship put me through school. Christian’s father could have bankrolled the whole place.
“In my head, Chris. I can’t help it.”
“Tell me,” says Rick, leaning hesitantly toward me from his seat. “What entertains you, Jessica?”
It’s a bizarre question, and as I glance back over at Rick, giving him as much of a smile as I can muster, I fee
l so fatigued from spending time with him that I want to lay my head down on the table right there in front of everyone.
“I have my hobbies,” I say coyly before turning back to my friends.
Rick can’t let it go.
“Like what?”
The rest of the people sitting around the table are talking about a new Star Trek movie that’s due out this summer, and even that’s preferable to enduring stilted first-date conversation with a man I’m never going to go out with again.
I knew that within the first five minutes. Now I’m regretting being so polite.
“Um…” I’ve had several drinks myself, and I can’t think of a single thing I like to do in my spare time. I’m usually up for going out with friends after spending another draining day in the office, but else do I like to do? Maybe this city, this club scene, is sapping me of my adventurous spirit.
Maybe I’ve had too much to drink.
I see movement in the corner of my eye, and then Jax Hunter—the richest man in the city—is coming toward the table. My heart flutters. Christian set me up with him once. He would have been quite the conquest in bed if it hadn’t been for the faraway look he had in his eyes that night.
The object of his affections, another outsider named Catherine Schaffer, is on his arm. She’s wearing a short pink dress that attracts the lustful eye of every guy in the room and more than a few envious glances from the women.
“Hey, guys!” she says brightly, as Jax and Christian pound each other on the back in greeting. The two of them together is a study in contrasts. Jax is tall, dark, and handsome times a thousand. He radiates sex appeal, and Christian is his perfect foil, blond, blue-eyed and so All-American. But only one of them is on the market now. There are two other women at the table Catherine seems to know fairly well, and I take the opportunity to fall in with their chatter as Jax and Christian whisper to each other a few steps away from the table.
I understand what Jax sees in Cate.