Masters for Hire

by Ginger Voight

  He spread my legs wide and took his time with his task, exploring every delicate fold with the tip of his tongue until I was bucking my hips against him. Though I wasn’t a virgin, my experiences with sex, with a partner at least, usually didn’t include many frills.

  Apparently I was getting the full platinum package. When he penetrated me with two fingers, as his mouth covered my clit, I rocketed off in the first massive orgasm. My nails clutched the covers as I spasmed against him. But that wasn’t enough for Devlin. In a flurry of movement I couldn’t even describe if I wanted to, his fingers, mouth and tongue brought me to the first multiple orgasm I’d ever experienced in my life, including with myself. I was in sensory overload, orbiting in outer space until I was begging him to fuck me–in those words exactly.

  That was new too, and equally as liberating.

  He finally lifted up to face me. “Say it again, Coralie. Tell me what you want.”

  It was more than I could take hearing my name fall from those sensual lips, lips that I was sure still tasted like me. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “You’ve needed a man to fuck you for a while, haven’t you, darlin’?” he crooned as he studied me. I nodded, but I couldn’t speak. “I’m going to fuck you, Coralie,” he whispered, and heat shot through my veins like lightning. His large hands cupped under each of my knees, holding me open as he rubbed himself against me. “Tell me how much you want this big, hard cock inside of you,” he prodded, his voice gruff as he nuzzled my neck.

  I shivered as another bolt of lightning sizzled throughout every nerve ending. Hearing the dirty words only made it sexier. “Yes, I want it,” I managed, though at this point it was impossible to think.

  “Don’t hold back now, Coralie,” he corrected with a smirk. “Say the words.”

  I shuddered hard. I never used language like this, particularly in sex. It sounded foreign to my own ears as I squeaked, “Fuck me with that big hard cock, Devlin.”

  He chuckled against me. “That’s my girl. It’s okay to be dirty. It’s okay to be raw. It’s okay to beg to be fucked,” he added, emphasizing the word in an emphatic whisper. “And because you were such a good girl, I’m going to give you what you’ve always wanted. What you’ve always needed.” My wide eyes met his. “No matter who you’ve been with before, you were a virgin until you met me.”

  It was such a sexy promise that I shuddered again. He lifted up to remove his pants, fetching a condom from one of the pockets before he tossed them off of the bed. He tore off the corner of the package with his teeth, a move made even more primal by the look in his eyes as he stared down at me. He handed me the condom. “Put it on me.”

  He was, indeed, rock hard as I slid the prophylactic over his large, rigid cock. His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed deeply as I rolled it down the shaft. As soon as it was in place, he positioned himself in between my legs.

  Our eyes locked and held as he inched himself inside of me. He let out a long, satisfied moan as he buried himself balls deep. “Goddamn, girl,” he muttered. “You’re every bit as amazing as I knew you’d be.”

  I couldn’t even speak. He filled me up, stretching me wide; touching me in places I didn’t even know existed. I couldn’t even tell where he ended and I began. He tilted my hips and slipped even deeper, touching something hidden deep inside of me that nearly made my eyes roll back in my head. “Oh my God, yes,” I moaned.

  He grinned. “That’s it. Let it go.”

  My nails latched into the rock hard muscles in his back as he began to stroke. Devlin Masters hadn’t lied about knowing exactly what I needed, and he proceeded to deliver. He cupped my knees again, lifting my legs up as he spread me wider, angling himself just right to hit that sweet spot over and over again. I couldn’t stop screaming even if I wanted to. He played my body expertly.

  Or should I say, he played my body like an expert?

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Come for me. Come hard around that big dick. It’s all yours, darlin.’”

  A ghost of his long-abandoned brogue resurrected in the softly uttered term of endearment, which only made everything else that much better. He wasn’t just some generic hot guy. He was an international traveler from the mean streets of Belfast.

  #BadIrishBoy #AndHeIsAllMine #twentymoreminutesatleast

  My head thrashed from side to side as I rocked up to meet each thrust. I couldn’t get enough. Each wave of pleasure crashed into another one until I was practically incoherent beneath him. This was what sex was like? No wonder I had always felt so cheated.

  It was as though my pleasure turned him on even more. The more I screamed, the harder he pumped. All his dirty talk devolved to primal, animalistic grunts. Instead he found another way to communicate. He bent to kiss me hard, which sent me into pleasure overload. He was everywhere, part of everything. He cried out in my mouth as he thrust hard one last time, adding his one orgasm to my ten. At least I think it might have been ten. I had lost the ability to count after Orgasm #3. Finally he collapsed against me. “Fuck me,” he breathed as he slumped against my bare breast.

  I giggled. “I thought I just did.”

  He rose up to grin at me. “You sure did.” His mouth landed on mine for another kiss. Unlike our barbaric fucking, the kiss was positively gentle. He nailed what I needed yet again. It melted me even more.

  He propped himself on one elbow to look down at me. He stared at me so long, I had to look away. He turned my face back to his. “You’re amazing, Coralie. Every inch. Every part. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  They were such pretty words that I had to remind myself that they were all part of the package. Part of the fantasy. And I knew without looking at the clock that the last grains of sand were falling on the illusion we had created.

  Almost as if he sensed my changing mood, he said, “Do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whenever you question yourself, thinking you’re not the powerful, strong, sexy woman you are, I want you to think about this. About me,” he added as he wove our fingers together. “About us.” The soft way he said it made my heart skip a beat, even though I knew he couldn’t possibly mean it. “You promise?”

  I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. I simply nodded. He bent for another kiss, a slower, deeper, more intimate kiss. Then, finally, he lifted away. “Want to join me for a shower?” he asked as he reached for his pants.

  I shook my head, instantly reminded by how tawdry our encounter had truly been.

  He smiled warmly at me before he kissed me again, then he bounded off of the bed to my adjoining bathroom.

  I had already put on a robe by the time he reemerged. He held my hand in his as I walked him to the front door, where he pulled me close for yet another kiss. “I want you to call me again, Coralie,” he said as his eyes stared deep into mine. “Anytime you need a friend. Anytime you want to talk. Anytime you need to fuck,” he said, his gaze drifting towards my mouth. “Even if you need a date for a wedding,” he suggested with a slight grin. “The Bahamas, Vegas or Timbuktu. I’ll clear my schedule in a heartbeat for you.”

  I chuckled softly. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He released the belt from my robe and snaked his hand inside to curve around my full, bare hips. “Only the sexy ones,” he amended before kissing me hard.

  Then he was out the door and down the stone path, with me staring wistfully behind him. I finally shut the door when he turned out of sight. My body still trembled from the many orgasms he had given me. It was everything I had always wanted and then some.

  And I probably would have felt a lot better about it if I hadn’t checked my watch and confirmed that he had left my house almost exactly four hours to the minute after our date began.

  God, he was good.

  I sighed, closed my robe, and headed back to bed with what was left of the champagne.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Despite the late night and the slight hangover, there was no sleeping in t
hat following morning. I was roused by the persistent ring of my cell phone. For a split second, I wondered if Devlin might be calling. But then I realized how stupid that was. It had been a significant night for me, but it was business as usual for him. I berated myself softly, and answered the phone.

  “So? Tell me what happened!”

  Of course it was Lucy. I chuckled. “Really? You want all the dirty details at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning? Shouldn’t we be in church or something?”

  “Fuck that,” she said. “I want the details! And don’t make me come over there, because I totally will.”

  I laughed because I knew she meant it. “Surprised they even let you out of the tower after yesterday’s little stunt.”

  “I haven’t been home,” she admitted. “I stayed at Gus’s. We spent the whole night talking, figuring out what we want to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “I want my wedding my way, Ceece. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”

  “Of course it isn’t.”

  “But she’s never going to give an inch on the circus she’s planning either. She’ll never forgive me if I don’t go through with it.”

  “So what can you do?”

  “Well,” she said with a dramatic breath. “I was thinking about what Devlin said, about just popping over to Vegas, doing something special and intimate just for us, the official one, as it were. Then we come back here and go through the whole pomp and circumstance just for them. I mean, Daddy has paid a lot of money. Despite how crazy they make me, I don’t want to disappoint them or hurt them either.”

  “And you think you’ll be okay with that?”

  “I think so. As long as Gus and I get a crack at doing it our way. And I kind of like the idea of eloping. Then it can be all about us, like it should be.”

  “Tell me when and I’ll get the time off. It’s not like it matters if I’m at the office these days anyway.”

  “Ceece, come on. It totally matters.”

  “To whom?” I challenged.

  “To you,” she answered. “You count every bit as much as they do, girl. And you know it.”

  I thought about the night before, with Devlin. “Whenever you question yourself, thinking you’re not the powerful, strong, sexy woman you are, I want you to think about this. About me.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “I know.”

  “Good. I pick up my new wedding dress at the end of the week. I figure we can be in Sin City by the weekend. Is that enough notice?”

  “It’s going to have to be,” I told her. “Just a weekend thing?”

  “Oh, hell no. I need a vacation, so this is going to be a wedding-slash-honeymoon.”

  “What about Hawaii?” I reminded.

  “That’s the benefit of getting married twice,” she chirped happily. “Two of everything.” We laughed together. “I was thinking a week, because really that’s all anyone needs of Vegas anyway. It’ll give us time to get everything done so we’re not so stressed out.”

  “Sounds great,” I said.

  “Plus, y’know, I was thinking… Devlin has weekly rates.”

  “Lucy.”

  “Come on. We wouldn’t even be doing this if it wasn’t for him. It feels wrong to leave him out. It’s been a long time since we hung out with our old college buddy.”

  “You’re hysterical,” I deadpanned. “Do you really want me to spend one of the most romantic weeks of your life screwing around with some gigolo?”

  “He’s more than that,” she said at once, which gave me pause. “He… I dunno. He just fits.”

  I took a deep breath. Yeah, he fit. He fit real nice. But it was a part to play, and I could never lose sight of that. Never, never, never.

  #NeverSayNever

  “Just think about it,” she said, and I agreed that I would.

  I was getting pretty good at the whole lying thing. Pretty soon, I could be an escort myself. According to Oliver, my father and Sylvia Lyon, I already had the clothes for it.

  I stayed at Petit Paradis through the rest of the weekend. I was still pretty miffed at Father, and didn’t really care to be scolded ad nauseam for whatever sin he felt I committed.

  If he only knew.

  I avoided everyone until Monday morning, when I forced myself to head into the office. I fought the momentary, petulant urge to wear some of my new clothes from Tempestuous, but I figured it was unwise to pick that battle when I was about to take an unscheduled vacation for a week. I wasn’t necessarily worried about Father prohibiting the time off, considering I barely called in sick to work. Officially I had already accrued ten days’ vacation which I hadn’t planned to use until August, when I flew to France for my birthday. But suddenly I couldn’t wait to get away from Cabot’s. Seemed like the more I wiggled free from my cocoon, the more binding the remnants became.

  I knew I had to get away before it strangled me.

  I got to my office about twenty minutes early, just so I wouldn’t have to see anyone. Simon was already there, perennially happy, ready with a nice hot cup of my favorite coffee. “How was the party?”

  “I plead the fifth,” I replied as I took the cup from his hand and headed into my office.

  The smell hit me like a slap in the face. My head snapped up and I spotted a large floral arrangement of at least fifty long-stemmed dark red roses in a cobalt blue vase sitting on my desk. Simon, who shadowed me in the doorway, grinned ear to ear. “Something tells me it was a really good party.”

  I shuffled towards the flowers in a daze, pulling the card from the bouquet.

  Thanks for the amazing weekend. Let’s do it again soon. XOXO Devlin.

  “Who’s Devlin?” Simon wanted to know.

  “Old school chum,” I mumbled.

  “That’s a school chum with some class,” Simon decided as he headed back to his desk. “Does he have a brother?”

  I opened my mouth to answer and then realized I didn’t really know the answer. He mentioned a sister.

  I think.

  “Never mind that,” I dismissed. “How does my schedule look next week?”

  “Nothing pressing,” he answered. “Why?”

  “I’m thinking of taking a vacation.”

  He referred to his tablet. “There are a couple of meetings but I can move them around. Lucky for you we’re heading into summer, so a lot of people are taking time off. It’s practically Memorial Day.”

  I nodded. Sounded perfect. “Clear my schedule. Put off what you can, handle the rest.”

  “You got it,” he said as he went right to work on his task.

  I logged into the HR system to request my time off, overriding the two-week advance period normally in place for such things. Being the boss’s daughter had some perks, after all. The cursor hovered over the entry for days requested of my available time off, 1-10 days. I decided to take all ten. I knew that even though Lucy was going to be a lot easier to manage doing things her way, she was still going to need a lot of help to throw together a last-minute wedding.

  Oliver walked into my office about ten minutes after I submitted my request. He spotted the impressive bouquet but said nothing. “What’s this about?” he asked, holding up a piece of paper. I knew it was my PTO request.

  “I’m taking a vacation,” I announced. I didn’t even ask. I didn’t have to, and I wasn’t going to.

  “Really? And why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

  My eyes met his, my voice cool as a cucumber. “Because it doesn’t affect you, that’s why.”

  “Who do you think will have to pick up the slack when you’re gone?” he countered.

  “I’ve rescheduled my meetings, and Simon can handle the rest. Besides, I’m not the only sales manager on your team, am I?”

  Too bad for Oliver, I had already figured out how little my presence meant at Cabot’s these days. I knew that Father had no plans to make me CEO when he retired, which was borderline offensive after all the time I spent chasing after a busine
ss degree to do exactly that.

  Oliver stepped inside the office and shut the door behind him. “What’s this really about, CC?” he asked.

  “It’s about me needing a vacation. I’ve covered everything I need to do. I have the time available. Where’s the issue?”

  “Is this about that guy at the party on Saturday?” he wanted to know.

  I chuckled. “No.”

  “Really?” he asked again. “I asked around to find out who he was, and someone said he used to go to school with you. But you never mentioned anybody like that in your past.”

  My eyebrow arched. “Like what?”

  “Like an ex,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

  “He’s not ex,” I assured. “But he may be a present. What business is it of yours either way?”

  “Last time I checked, you were dating me,” he snapped, and had the gall to look offended. “I thought we had something, CC.”

  “What’s that? An arranged marriage?” We stared at each other for a good long moment before I went on. “We go out sometimes but we’re not exclusive. We’ve never talked about the future. In fact, any time I try to bring up taking our relationship to the next level, you change the subject.”

  “I do not.”

  “Oh no? Weren’t you the one telling me just days ago that our relationship doesn’t need to go any further than eating together in a nice restaurant? That may be okay for you, but I want more than that. I’m not your consolation prize, Oliver.”

  “Jesus, CC!” he exploded. “Why do you have to blow every little thing out of proportion? We get along. We like the same things. We have the same goals. We were having a nice time–”

  “Nice,” I repeated, cutting him off. “Right.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with nice. Nice is normal, CC.”

  “Yeah, well maybe I’m not, Oliver. Maybe I’m abnormal. Maybe I’m a weirdo. Maybe I’m alternative, just a square peg that doesn’t want to fit inside your ‘nice’ round hole. What does it matter anyway? So this isn’t working. There are other fish in the sea.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered as he glanced over the roses. “Looks like you reeled in a whopper.”