Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3)

by Dany Rae Miller

  Holy fuck.

  Someone took my all-feminine flowery girl and turned her into a sexy career woman. Dressed in a fitted dove gray suit, the slim skirt ends at mid thigh. Her shapely legs shimmer inside nude stockings that lead the eye right down to her come-fuck-me heels.

  I scan right back up her curvy little body to slightly damp hair piled in a neat up-do, light eye makeup and dewy pink lipstick.

  “Stop staring, Victor.” Grandmother whispers and lightly smacks my gut.

  “Huh?”

  Helen chuckles. While I’m speechless, she greets Cherie. “You must be Ms. Valentine. I’m Helen King.”

  Cherie smiles, walks past me to shake Helen’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you. Please call me Cherie.”

  “A pleasure, Cherie. I’ve heard a lot about you from Maria,” says Helen.

  “Uh, oh.” Cherie smiles.

  Helen chuckles. “All good, I assure you.”

  I just stare at my dream girl’s ass in that skirt — a skirt with a slit up the back revealing the tiniest peek of lace at the top of her stockings.

  Maybe lingerie on you will be my total undoing after all, mi pequeña.

  Grandmother seriously slugs my arm. Down boy, she mouths to me. I shake my head, trying. Grandmother stifles a laugh as Cherie greets her with a kiss on her cheek.

  “Maria. What have you been telling Helen?”

  “Only the good things, my dear. She’ll find out on her own the trouble you and Gabriela can cause.”

  Next, my peaches turns to me with an astute smile. Cherie may have a lot of talents. A good poker face isn’t one of them. That she knows the effect she just had on me is written all over her face.

  “Mr. Santana,” she says, looking at my mouth.

  “Victor, remember,” I say.

  “Let’s go into the conference room.” Helen leads the way.

  I make sure to follow right behind Cherie, watch her swaying hips, hoping for a glimpse of lace under that skirt.

  No matter that I just had her, I want her, again. Right. Now. I grab a random personnel file off a desk to hold over my crotch, to hide my erection.

  Happily, I don’t have to speak much. For the first part of the meeting, Grandmother explains her vision for the Fast Track Program.

  “I do have a few questions,” Cherie says. “For instance, can we start the program now or must it wait until fall semester?”

  I answer that question. “Since college credit won’t count until the fall, we prefer to start the program then to sync up with CU’s credit reporting requirements. In the meantime, we’d like to place you at the front desk or the concierges, your choice, for the rest of summer.”

  “If not toward intern credit, will the time count toward the Fast Track commitment?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  That would give you an earlier out, peaches.

  I’ve known the girl for two days, yet the very thought of her leaving constricts my chest like a vise. Even five years from now, is unacceptable.

  Grandmother narrows her eyes at me. Afraid she’ll contradict me, I shoot her a look, willing her to back me.

  “We can work something out as the program evolves,” Grandmother says.

  Cherie nods. “Okay. I also understand that you can’t guarantee a management position at the completion of the program.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “What about other positions? Can I choose among the open positions at that time — no matter the resort?”

  No. You’ll stay with me. Forever.

  Grandmother nods. “Of course. Depending on our needs at that time, you can choose where you’d like to go within Santana Resorts.”

  “What happens if I don’t complete the program, say if The Graces or another resort offers me a position I can’t refuse?”

  “We would require you to give us an opportunity to meet or beat such an offer,” I say.

  Grandmother nods, approving my answer.

  “And if we couldn’t come to an agreement, would you sue me for breaking the commitment to accept employment elsewhere?” Cherie asks.

  All these questions about leaving.

  “Never,” Grandmother says. “That’d be like suing a member of the family. You’re obviously unsure of the program, my dear, and I don’t blame you. It’s a unique and new concept in our industry, completely untested. If you choose to give it a chance, we’d count on you to provide feedback to help us further develop the program.”

  Cherie nods.

  “Do you need time to think about it, dear?”

  No. Sign. Now.

  “Not at all, Maria. It’s an amazing opportunity. I just hope I can perform to your expectations.”

  “I have no doubt that you will.” Grandmother pats Cherie’s hand. “So to clarify. You’ll be a summer employee until the fall when you’ll transition to Fast Track and continue in that program for one year. After completion of Fast Track, you’ll be a permanent employee for an additional four years.”

  “Understood,” Cherie says nodding.

  “Now, salary.” Grandmother states a generous number, greater than even I was thinking.

  Not missing a beat, Cherie counters with twenty percent more. I bite back a laugh.

  You go, girl.

  Grandmother smiles at the boldness, too. She counters with five percent above her initial offer. “With a five percent lump-sum bonus upon completion of the Fast Track program next year.”

  “Okay,” Cherie nods, eagerly.

  Documents are signed, hands are shaken, cheeks are kissed and hugs given.

  Grandmother welcomes Cherie to Santana Resorts, then leaves for a charity meeting downtown.

  Helen takes over. “We have two sets of uniforms here at The Avalon — summer and winter. Each uniform includes a blazer, shirt, ascot, pants and, for women, a skirt. You may choose to wear either skirt or pant, but you must wear the uniform to the guidelines described in the handbook — which I’ll give you in a moment. You’ll bring dirty uniforms here to The Avalon laundry for cleaning free of charge.”

  Cherie nods that she understands.

  Helen looks her up and down. “What size are you? Four? Six?”

  “I can wear either size, depending on the cut.”

  Six, petite. Size five and a half shoe.

  Needing her sizes for birthday gifts, I snooped in Cherie’s closet this morning.

  “Why don’t you take one of each?” Helen says. “Try them on and let me know which you’d prefer. However, do so as soon as possible. I’ll need to order three complete sets of both seasons for you.”

  Nodding, Cherie agrees.

  Helen takes Cherie’s driver’s license and social security card to another room to photocopy.

  “You have to stop looking at me like that, Mr. Santana,” Cherie says to me.

  “Like what?” I smile, wanting desperately to inch that skirt up, see what that lace looks like hugging her thighs.

  “Like that, right there,” she says.

  Apparently, my poker face needs work as well.

  “Down here, I’m just Cherie the employee.”

  I shake my head. “You are never ‘just’ anything, sweetness.”

  “And you can’t call me sweetness in public,” she says.

  Fuck that.

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Conscious of the security camera in the corner and using the table to shield my movements, I slide my hand under her skirt, caress that spot where lace gives way to skin — wishing it was my mouth.

  “After we’re done here, why don’t we head upstairs? You keep these stockings on and call me Mr. Santana the way you just did, while I rub my cheeks on your thighs and lick your creamy channel.”

  “Mr. Santana, that is so inappropriate.”

  The words scold me, but I smell her arousal. And her squirming in the chair and her tongue wetting her lip invites me to do just as I said.

  I growl through a closed mouth. “
I want to use my tongue totally inappropriately all over your hot body.” I slide my hand higher, aiming for that spot between her legs that I’m certain is wet right now.

  Blushing a sweet shade of pink, Cherie shoves my hand away just as Helen returns with her identification, two sets of uniforms on hangers and a large envelop.

  “In the envelop are the employee handbook, as well as health insurance and 401K enrollment forms. I’ll need your choices by your first day,” Helen says.

  “Oh, we didn’t discuss a start date with Maria,” Cherie says, looking at Helen and me.

  “You can start as early as next week,” I say, anxious to have her in Telluride permanently.

  “Next week might be too soon. I need to drive home to Colorado Springs and get my things.”

  chapter twenty-two

  LEAVING HR, VICTOR walks behind me. I feel his eyes on my backside. I know it’s immature, but his obsession with my body makes me feel powerful, just like a goddess.

  I am a sister of Venus, Bes and Aphrodite.

  The stupefied expression on his face when he initially saw me in this suit shocked me. It’s work attire, for crying out loud. What’s so sexy about a suit?

  Even more astonishing is that my sexual confidence enhanced my overall confidence — so much so that I was completely at ease negotiating a higher starting salary. Mom was adamant that I be proactive at the formal offer.

  Raises, 401K contributions, bonuses — are all percentages of initial salary, she said. Not to mention that my next employer will take this salary into consideration when making an offer.

  Lugging the heavy uniforms over my shoulder, the wire hangers squeeze together and pinch my fingers. I grimace and shift the load to my other hand and shoulder.

  “Let me get those.”

  “I’ve got ‘em, thank you, Mr. Santana.”

  I smile at other employees we pass in the hall. Like the heart of a hive, this corridor is for the worker bees of the hotel.

  Here are the HR office, punch clocks with racks and racks of timecards, employee locker rooms, the large employee cafeteria, the laundry, the exterior employee entrance, the back stairs to the underground employee parking garage and a service elevator.

  This deep in the hive of The Avalon, I absolutely must be Cherie the hospitality professional, not Cherie Victor’s lover.

  I take the service elevator to the third floor. Inside my room, I hang the uniforms in my closet. Flexing my hand, I turn to see Victor leaning in the connecting door, ogling me with a sexy smile.

  The carnal goddess in me enjoys the power. “So, you like stockings?” I say.

  “Hmm, mmm. It appears I do, on you, at least,” he says, advancing on me slowly.

  I step backward.

  Creases deepening into a playful smile and gold flecks glimmering in gourmet chocolate eyes, he stalks me, and licks that full bottom lip as though he’s preparing to devour me. I have no doubt that I’d relish being devoured by that magic mouth.

  Flexing my fingers that still hurt from the hangers, I keep stepping backwards.

  “I hate that I couldn’t carry those uniforms for you,” he says, another couple steps closer.

  “I know.” I look at the marks left on my palms. “But you have to treat me like any other employee.”

  With my back, I bump the door to the corridor. All I can do is flatten against it and wait for him to come ever closer. Squeezing my thighs together against the moisture pooling between them, I could almost climax on the exquisite anticipation alone.

  In front of me now, Victor grasps my fingers, kisses the hanger marks on my palms.

  “I already told you, Cherie. You will never be just any other employee.”

  “Down there, I have to be. It’s important.”

  Leaning an arm on the door above my head, he presses his hard body against me, nuzzles my throat, kisses behind my ear.

  “I know it is to you, mi ninfa, and I’ll do as you ask. But here, in private, I’m going to love on you every second I can.”

  His tongue outlines my lips.

  “Kiss you.”

  His big hand strokes up the back of my thigh, caressing the lace top of the stocking.

  “Touch you.”

  A finger delves under my panty.

  “Give you pleasure.”

  That wonderful finger glides easily into my moist center.

  “Any and every way I can.”

  “Oh. God.” My muscles pull at his finger, drawing him in.

  “I want to put my tongue right there.” He pulls the finger out and moistens my clit with it. “And lick right there.”

  I moan.

  “Can I do those things to you, peaches?” He rasps.

  “Yes.” I pant, rubbing my sensitive breasts against his chest, wanting his mouth on them as much as I want his tongue between my legs.

  There’s a knock on the other side of the door that I’m pressed against.

  Victor whispers. “Can we ignore that?” He slides his finger back inside me.

  Yes.

  “Go away.” I shout to whoever is on the other side. I squirm down on his finger.

  Victor chuckles, slips a second finger inside. I moan at the sensation.

  “Cherie!” It’s Lauralynn and she’s laughing. “Girlfriend, we can hear you moaning.”

  Feeling myself blush, I bite my lip. Victor smiles at me, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Then why did you bother knocking?” I ask.

  “Because it’s La Mousquetaire time. You can get laid later,” Shavone says.

  “La moo what?” Victor asks. I whimper a protest when he removes his fingers.

  Gabs answers him. “It’s a childhood clique thing, Vic. We’re having a reunion right now. So take your hands off our girl, get decent and open the damn door.”

  “You have shitty timing, prima,” Victor says.

  Prima is Spanish for female cousin.

  Gabs laughs. I can hear Amber and Fallon snicker, too.

  “The six of us haven’t been in the same place in ages,” I say to Victor.

  “You’re mine later.” He kisses me quickly, puts an arm around my waist to move me away and opens the door.

  Screeching all five girls rush in, almost knocking me down with a group hug.

  Victor shakes his head, laughing. “I’ll leave you girls to your fun.” With long strides, he heads toward the connecting door.

  “Stop.” Lauralynn orders him. “We wanna check out the guy who turned Cherie into a woman.”

  “Um, hello? I’ve always had the parts,” I say.

  “Yeah, but you weren’t using them to the fullest.” She waves her hand dismissively as she moves toward Victor.

  “Ells.” I warn her away from my man.

  ‘My man?’ Where did that thought come from?

  He points at Lauralynn. “I’ve met you before, right?”

  She nods. “Yes, at your family’s cabin when I was eleven or twelve. In case you forgot, my name is Lauralynn.”

  “Nice to meet you, again,” he says.

  I introduce Victor to Shavone, Amber and Fallon.

  “So, let’s have a look at you, Victor,” Lauralynn says.

  Lauralynn walks around him, scanning him head to toe, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad, C. Not bad at all. He’s certainly hotter than my first.”

  With a giant arrogant grin, Victor raises one eyebrow at me.

  “Ignore her. She’s pushy and insane,” I say, shoving him to the door.

  “But obviously an excellent judge of men.” He chuckles.

  The girls laugh.

  “Go.” I giggle. He takes my hand to pull me closer, kisses me and whispers, “Those stockings stay on until I take them off.”

  “Yes, Mr. Santana,” I murmur in his ear.

  After a suggestive kiss and a lascivious wink, he begrudgingly closes the door.

  And I turn to my girls. I haven’t seen Fallon and Amber in the flesh since our infamous end-of-an-era pa
rty. That night, we all said goodbye to childhood, high school and our old lives — some goodbyes being harsher than others. The following morning, we each stepped into the next chapters of our lives.

  Lauralynn flew off to interior design school on the east coast; Amber left for film school in LA; and Fallon pursued modeling in Europe.

  Shavone, Gabs and I stayed in Colorado for college. S went to DU. Gabs and I moved to Boulder to attend CU. I often suspect that G stuck by me for financial aid as much as for friendship. Being her roommate, I felt both grateful and guilty.

  I pull the pins out of my hair and the girls help me choose an outfit for dinner. We settle on a casual skirt and blouse — I leave the stockings on just for Victor.

  They freshen their makeup and we go downstairs to talk and have drinks in the lounge before it’s time to leave for our restaurant reservation. Enrique, Shavone’s mate, tries to act all nonchalant and cool at the bar covertly watching us, but he made it clear that he’s not letting her out of his sight.

  After what Shavone has been through and the added threat of Kennedy out there somewhere, I’m glad.

  A few hours later we stroll, arm in arm, out of The Avalon headed for another world-famous restaurant in Telluride, this one in the downtown area while Enrique trails a bit behind.

  chapter twenty-three

  “THE USUAL, SANTANA?” Wes greets me as I take a stool at The Last Buck.

  “Please.”

  I acknowledge and wave at some of the regulars.

  “The bachelor party isn’t for another hour,” Wes says, pouring my drink.

  “It’s here?” I ask, grimacing.

  Wes indicates with his head. “In the back room. You’re not going?” He sets the glass in front of me.

  “Fuck, no. I hate bachelor parties.”

  “Me, too.” Jesse leans on the bar next to me. “Unfortunately, it’s required attendance for the best man.”

  What the fuck. Are we drinking buddies now? Cherie cares for him. Being nice to the kid could earn me points.

  I crook a thumb at Jesse. “Wes, the cub’s drink is on me.”

  “Nothing, thanks.” He waves the bartender away.

  I turn to taunt the kid. “No lemonade or maybe a milk shake?”

  A sarcastic shake of his head, Jesse chuckles without a smile. “You think you’re the shit, don’t you, Mr. Santana?”