Bastard In A Sut (Book Three) (Bastard In A Suit 3)

by Ivy Carter

  What if someone else walks in before he arrives and can lock the door behind him? Does that room even have a lock on the door?

  My hands begin to shake. I cram the note into my purse and drop my fingers to my lap, touching the silky fabric. The slide of the material against my skin is a quiet promise of real pleasure.

  And here’s what it comes down to—trust. How much do I trust Dane to not let me get hurt or have my reputation damaged beyond repair?

  I think about the way we’ve grown closer over the last couple of weeks, how everything I learn about him fleshes out the knowledge I’ve been accumulating since starting at the company. We’re so different, he and I. Is this crazy of me to seriously go down this road with him, to put myself on the line?

  To let someone have this power over me who could totally break my heart?

  But then I shake that thought off, because the drive to see him again, be touched by him again, be close to him again—is too strong to resist for even a moment.

  I reserve the room in our company-wide calendar, if only to give myself more time to think this through. And I debate the issue for the next hour. I think about his eyes seeing my pain, him reaching out to me in a way he knows will help me escape my hurt.

  I can’t walk away from the promise in this note. Plus that last line…it’s been resonating with me since I read it.

  Dane didn’t write that he wanted to be in me again. He said he wanted to be with me. A vast difference, an intentional wording from someone who spends his life being precise with words. And my stupid heart won’t let that phrase go.

  Suddenly it’s eleven twenty-five. Do or die time. My whole body is trembling with anticipation, because I know exactly what I’m going to do.

  I ball the blindfold up into my hands, grab a stack of papers so I look like I’m going in for work purposes, then step toward the corner meeting room. The lights are already off, with scant outdoor sunshine peeking through the blinds, so I close the door behind me and leave them that way. I hurry up and take off my panties, then thrust my legs back into my pants.

  Last, I suck in a shaky breath, then sit down in a chair facing away from the large table. I tie the blindfold around my eyes, shutting out everything around me except for the harsh sound of my exhales.

  Then I wait.

  Dane

  I’m not sure my cock has ever been this fucking hard in my life. I can barely keep in place near the water cooler as I watch sweet, sexy-as-hell Emme walk into the conference room about thirty feet from where I’m standing, her chin high, her ass swaying. The door closes behind her with a solid click that sets me on fire.

  I need her so badly right now. It’s hard to remind myself that this endeavor didn’t start because of my needs though. It’s about her, only her.

  Even as I think that, I know it isn’t true, not anymore. This is just as much for me. Reading about her blindfold fantasy in her journal stuck with me, and so many times I’ve found my mind wandering to thoughts of making that come true.

  Then I saw her earlier today, her eyes sad in a way that made my heart hurt, the puffy bags under her eyes, her face drawn and pale. And I had this instant compulsion to help her forget her troubles, even just for a while. To lose herself in pleasure. To drive that pain from her in the only way I can.

  I’m going to make this good for her, because Emme deserves it. She works hard, for me, for herself, for her brother. I don’t know yet what upset her so much, but I do know how to make her cream all over my cock.

  It’s difficult, but I manage to pour a small paper cup of water and stand in place, sip the water with nonchalance. I let the minutes tick by, ignoring the rapid pace of my pulse. It’s a special kind of torture, watching the door to ensure no one else goes in while she prepares herself for me.

  Strips off those panties. Puts on the silk blindfold I bought the other night on a whim, thinking about how the black fabric would look and feel against her soft skin.

  I crumple the empty cup in my fist and toss it. Then I stride to the meeting door and open it. When I turn around, I see Emme in a chair, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling fast. All the trust she’s put in me, to take care of her, to ensure she won’t get caught by someone else, it’s humbling. Have I ever had that much faith in a person? I swallow the lump in my throat and order myself to focus on the matter at hand.

  I click the lock, and her body stiffens. “It’s me,” I tell her, and she relaxes a fraction, then nods.

  I take her hand and lift her from the seat. Her head barely reaches my chin. I dip down and smell her hair, give in to the urge to touch her heated skin. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she’s gotten to me in a way I’ve never felt before. My fingers are slightly unsteady as I rub a lock of her hair between them.

  “I needed this so badly,” she tells me in a raw, airy whisper that rips everything out of my chest and lays it right here in front of her. Her hands slide up my shirt front, fingers brushing the buttons, and her chin tilts up until her mouth is just inches from mine. The warmth from her small hands scorches my skin beneath my dress shirt.

  The temptation is too much to fight anymore. I give in, possess every inch of her mouth, bite her lips and breathe her deeply. This feels so fucking good, so fucking right. Her taste is familiar to me now, and I grab her and pull her flush to my body. Savor the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the slight shake in her limbs as she clings to me.

  Emme wants this so badly she can barely stand. And fuck if I’m not going to give her everything I have.

  “What do you need?” I coax her. I have to hear the words. I cup the back of her head, careful to keep the blindfold in place, and drop my mouth to her ear. Lick the shell, swirl my tongue inside. She shudders. “Tell me, Emme. I want to know everything you want me to do to this delicious body of yours.”

  “When you talk like that, it makes me even wetter,” she admits. Her hands grip my shoulders. “I want…I want to feel you touching my naked breasts. I want your mouth on them. I…” She clears her throat, and even in the dimness of the room I can see the flush on her throat, sliding up her cheeks. “And I want to touch you too. I want to see you—feel your nakedness with my hands and my mouth.”

  I step away from her, leaving her swaying in place. “Strip your clothes off,” I tell her. I ache to see her nude body; all the blood rushing to my cock is leaving me swaying a little bit too.

  She slips her tongue out to lick her lips, then nods. Unzips her pants and pushes them down, and I can see the outline of her pussy before she bends over to kick them off. So she took her panties off earlier, as I instructed. She tosses the pants toward me, and I reach a hand out and grab them. I feel a wad in her pocket and draw out the pink panties she’d hidden in there.

  Meanwhile, she unbuttons her dress shirt, then drops it behind her. She’s left standing in her bra. Her arms are a bit fidgety, and she stands in place, shifting from foot to foot.

  “I’m still watching.” My voice is little more than a guttural growl right now. I can barely think, barely breathe. I can’t take my eyes off this woman. “Don’t stop. Take the bra off too.” Her panties are clutched in my fist.

  Her breasts rise as she arches her back, then removes the bra. Her breasts are bared to me, ripe and full with hard, dark nipples. My body is coiled tight with so much sexual tension I might explode if I don’t touch her.

  So I step forward, and she moves toward me, her fingers brushing my arms, shoulders, neck, face.

  “You’re still dressed,” she says with a small chuckle. A dimple pops up in her right cheek, and on impulse I lean down and kiss it. She pauses, then says, “Can I touch you? Take your clothes off?”

  “Yes.” It’s all I can get out right now.

  Her fingers slide back down to my throat. She loosens my tie, fumbling just a bit with the knot, then tugs it off. There’s something so intimate about the act of her undressing me that I’m almost a little uncomfortable. But I also want it t
oo, want her hands all over me. We haven’t had the luxury of being completely naked together.

  I know she enjoys getting off in the office, that that’s part of her fantasy, but I want to fuck her on a bed too. Next time we have sex, it’ll be somewhere she can scream as loudly as she wants to. Unfiltered. Uninhibited. The thought of her lying in my bed post-sex, of curling up against her as we doze off to sleep, makes me swallow hard.

  Thankfully, her rapid unbuttoning of my shirt takes my mind off that dangerous direction. Her lower lip is drawn between her teeth as she makes her way down, then tugs my open shirt down my arms, throwing it to the ground. Then my undershirt is discarded, and she’s working my belt.

  Another minute, and I’m completely naked with her, my cock jutting between our two bodies. I bend down to stretch our clothes into a makeshift bed for her, then lower her to the ground. All the fevered desire I had before is gone now; in its place is this craving to go slow, to build the torture in her until she can’t take it anymore. For the next fifty or so minutes, Emme is completely mine.

  I put her panties down for the time being and touching her body, let my hands start at the arches of her feet and work their way up her ankle, her calves, behind her knees, smoothing her inner thighs all the way to her crotch. She shudders from my touch, her breath escaping in small puffs. This close to her pussy, I can smell her arousal.

  I dart my tongue out, lick it, taste her wetness. Her pelvis pushes toward my mouth, an instinctive move; she digs her fingernails into the carpet, breasts thrust at the ceiling. I let my tongue lick and penetrate her until she’s jerking beneath me. Her pussy is soaked.

  Emme reaches down to caress my head, press me closer to her mound. Naturally, I oblige for a good minute until I can tell she’s getting close. Then I reach over and grab her panties, stroke the fabric along her slit. She freezes at the sensation, but when I rub her clit, she groans for a split second before biting back the sound.

  The crotch of the panties are good and drenched with her juices now. I dig into my pants pocket and tear the condom out of the packaging, roll it onto my rigid cock. Then I spread her thighs wide open and nestle between her legs, our bodies aligned. She sighs, strokes my back, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my shoulder.

  “Lie back and keep your mouth open,” I tell her.

  She does as I order. I stretch the crotch of her panties out to drape across her opened mouth, then I kiss her, tasting her wetness, tasting her tongue. She’s startled at first, but the throb of my dick against her lower belly, mingled with my groans of arousal, seem to help her get over that quickly. Our tongues spar around the fabric, and I’m almost going to come without even fucking her, I’m getting off so hard on the small mewls she makes from tasting herself.

  I’m shaking slightly as I push the head of my dick to her entrance. I can feel her cunt’s heat beckoning me; her thighs press against the sides of my legs, drawing me closer to her. She rubs her nipples along my chest and continues to kiss me through the panties. I love that she’s so willing to try anything.

  I slide inside her and groan into her mouth. Fuck, she feels so good. Unbelievably so. Our bodies grow slick with sweat as we move with each other. I remove the panties so I can take her mouth fully—I want to penetrate her in every possible way. My balls tighten as I ram harder, harder.

  “Yes,” she pants, digging her nails into my ass. It hurts, and I fucking love it. I want her mark on me. Her walls start to shudder around my dick, which makes me even stiffer. “That feels amazing, right there.”

  I withdraw almost completely, then push back into her. She envelops me, squeezes my dick with her pussy walls. My blood is boiling, and my skin is on fire. I grip her hair and thrust her head back so I can lick her sweat-tinged neck. With my other hand, I cup her breast, squeeze, knead the flesh.

  “You’re going to come for me,” I demand. “All over my cock. I need it so badly I can’t breathe for wanting you.”

  She gasps, and her hands slide to my waist as she tilts her pelvis to allow me deeper entry. I can feel the tip of my cock touch her cervix upon my next thrust and she cringes, so I adjust my angle. My hand tightens in her hair. The sight of her blindfolded, her mouth swollen and slick from our kissing, her skin flushed, it’s going to make me explode far too quickly.

  “Dane, please, don’t stop,” she says, her words barely more than a soft exhale.

  “There’s no way I’m going to stop now.” My thrusts become more frantic, more uneven as my own orgasm begins to tighten in me. My skin feels too tight, the nerves raw, everything in me exposed before this woman who can’t even see me right now. I swallow hard twice.

  “I’m…I’m so close.” Our flesh slaps as I almost drive her into the carpet from fucking her so hard. The pleasure is too much for me to fight off.

  “Come with me,” I tell her. “I need to feel your pussy as you come all over me.”

  She stiffens, all over. Then her body shakes as she bites her lip, her back bowed, and her knees press to my sides. I can see her struggling to remain silent, to not give away what we’re doing in here, and that pushes me right over the fucking edge. With an internal roar, I explode in the condom, come spilling out of my cock in what feels like an endless flow.

  Her vaginal walls clench my dick as her orgasm continues to pound through her. Her heartbeat is erratic, and I can feel it against my pecs. When she speaks, her voice sounds like it’s been ripped from her chest. “I love you.”

  I freeze in place, still buried balls deep in her, and stare down at her blind face in utter shock.

  END OF BOOK 2

  Boss Me Forever (Boss Me, Book Three) by Eva Grayson

  Emme

  I don’t know how I can ever look at Dane again.

  The last several days at work have been among the most awkward and sucktastic in my life. Even more so than when Dane read my journal. I still can’t believe I said I loved him. Mortifying.

  I scan the emails that filled my inbox while I was hiding alone in the cafeteria downstairs during lunch. Nothing big, just a couple of requests to get further info from Dane on various projects in the works, with two messages from Sanderson asking for an in-person evaluation as soon as possible. I forward them to Dane without adding any additional commentary.

  Since my love declaration to him a week ago, I’ve been avoiding him as best as possible. Overwhelmed by the sensations, by the power of everything I was feeling in the moment, I blurted out that I loved him. Something that had not only surprised him, but surprised me—because as scary as it is, as fast as it’s happened, as implausible as it might seem, it’s true. I’ve gone and fallen for Dane, against my better judgment, against all the things I told myself I was going to do to protect my heart.

  Upon reflection, I believe I started to fall for him even before the journal spun us onto this path. But I didn’t recognize it as such, telling myself again and again that I would be satisfied with just sex.

  But in that intense moment of connection, him deep inside me, our breaths mingling in each other’s lungs, our bodies and souls intertwined, I felt like none of those walls existed between us, and the sentiment just…came out. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore, and I couldn’t hold my feelings in.

  But the sharp inhale he gave right after my utterance, followed by heart-pounding moments of deafening silence, were enough of a clue about his lack of true romantic feelings for me. Dane pulled away, physically, emotionally, leaving me lying there feeling utterly exposed.

  For a good several seconds after my confession, I stayed behind the blindfold, eyes clenched shut in mortification, wishing I could remain hidden, too afraid to see the shock and possible horror I knew was on his face. And as I ripped the blindfold off, saw the stiffness in his body and how his eyes avoided mine, my heart shattered into pieces right then and there, and my throat burned with tears I wouldn’t let myself shed.

  I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Since that wasn’t going to happen, though, I managed
to extricate myself from the situation somehow, dressing in silence and then leaving the meeting room without another word spoken, panties shoved back in my pocket until I could make it to the bathroom and clean up, where I just threw them away. Suddenly I didn’t want to even look at them anymore.

  Since that day, it’s been a ballet between us, him careful to keep that professional veneer of his ever present, me tiptoeing in the utmost care to not be alone with him. Because if I have to listen to him give me The Talk, about how this was supposed to be just physical between us, and not anything more, I might die. Or punch him. Or something equally dramatic.

  As if I didn’t try to keep from falling from him. But good intentions and all that, right? None of it mattered in the least. Dane holds my heart in his hands, and I don’t know how to get it back from him. At least not yet.

  “Hey,” Lauren says as she sidles up to my desk. Her red hair is pulled into a loose braid that encircles her head, and her navy blue dress shirt and black A-line skirt flatter her curvaceous figure. “I’ve missed you at lunch the last few days. How are you?”

  I blink and paste on a fake smile. “Oh, I’m fine, sorry. Just busy with work shit. You know how it is, I’m sure. I’ve been eating lunch at weird times because of getting slammed with tasks for a few major projects. It’s nonstop lately.” God, I hate the fake joviality in my voice, the way I’m rambling, but there’s no way I can tell her the truth. How I’ve been hiding from Dane, from everyone, hoping no one can see how crushed I feel.

  The truth is, I’m not sure how I’m going to make it here much longer. And that kills me a little inside. Because I finally feel like I’m making my place in this company, starting to really learn more about this industry I want to break into after graduation.

  Her lips thin as she studies my face. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little…off.” She leans down and whispers, “Is it Dane? The two of you seem really awkward around each other lately. I felt like yesterday’s meeting was a bit tense for some reason.” Lauren pauses. “Did he do something asshole-ish to you? Want me to tell him to back off? Or break his kneecaps?” She gives me a big wink. “Kidding. But he gets a little too pushy about work sometimes, which can be frustrating—I should know. I still have nightmares about the late nights I pulled when I was his intern.”