The majority of my day has been spent getting to know Pete the superintendent. The first thing on my to-do list was for me to call him and introduce myself as the new owner of the building. I had a feeling that he was used to the previous owner's lack of attention, so I had to explain that it was a new day and things were going to be a lot different.
His first assignment was to see what was going on in Sloan's apartment. I told him I wanted the hot water running and the thermostat replaced by lunchtime. Unfortunately it wasn't as easy of a fix as I'd hoped. Thanks to the neglect of the previous owner, there's a bigger overall pipe problem in the building, so my little glamazon is going to have to go without hot water and dependable heat for a few more days. She's going to just love that shit.
Now I'm meeting with Johnson for a burger and an update. When Sloan was showering at my house, her phone rang and another blocked caller popped up on her caller ID. There's no way that she should be getting that many blocked calls. Something in my gut tells me that it's the kid.
"Thanks for buying me dinner, boss. I've been strapped for cash lately."
"What are you doing with all the money I pay you?"
"I have a sick grandmom at home."
"Really, Johnson?"
"I'm serious. She raised me since I was six years old. I take care of her now. Medicine is expensive. I was thinking about moving the two of us to Canada, so we could get some of their free healthcare and maybe some cheaper drugs."
"Why don't I find you a permanent position with benefits once you're done with this assignment."
"Really? That would be great, boss. What would I do?"
"Let's talk about why you're here first. The kid. Was he the one hired for the mailroom position?"
"Yes, it has been confirmed. One Damien Hardwick was definitely hired for your girl's building. My connection was able to pull his HR file. How do you want to handle it?"
As I consider what I'm going to do about the little woman beater, I'm distracted by the lilt of a familiar voice. A voice that belongs to a pair of beautiful almond eyes, long muscular legs, an apple shaped ass, and tits that sit round and high. A voice that immediately makes blood rush to my dick. And when I see where it's coming from, every muscle in my body tenses.
Sloan is sitting at the hotel bar having a glass of red wine and chatting it up with a suit. And not just any suit, but the same doctor from The Academy of Music.
A second date.
Damn her.
Even with a purple fucking eye and scars on the side of her face, she's drop dead fucking gorgeous. What isn't so attractive is that she's smiling and flirting with the square as if he's the most interesting man in the room. In a second, I think she's actually going to bat her eyelashes at him. What the fuck?
I laugh a little at myself. Just a minute ago I thought I had her figured out. I was so confident that my interest in Sloan was just a momentary diversion. Nothing serious. Just a passing fancy. Like watching high quality porn. Intoxicating, addictive, but at some point, you've got to let it go for real life and real sex with real women. The kind of women that don't have a pretentious bone in their bodies. The kind who don't hold degrees from fancy schools and would suffocate in a corporate environment. The kind of women who aren't the subjects of my deluded childhood fantasies of the perfect girl. The kind of women who are nothing like Sloan.
But as I watch her sitting here. Laughing. Sparkling.
All of that shit goes right out the window.
Sloan is this wild intriguing mixture of things. As soon as she enters a room she commands everyone's attention, although I don't think she's the attention seeking type. She was raised in a high rent downtown district, attended prestigious private schools including an Ivy League college, and holds down a demanding sales job. Even though she's the daughter of one of the NBA's legendary bad boys, which means she's basically Philadelphia royalty, I rarely see her use her daddy's legacy as currency. I respect that.
She's strong willed, silver tongued, and fiercely independent yet the flip side of all of her great traits is that she repeatedly picks the wrong men. None of them can handle her, but I think that's the point. She doesn't really want a man to handle her. A man like me.
"Princess," I greet her crossly. Still pissed about her black eye and especially pissed that she's out on a second date with said black eye.
"Cutter." She almost smirks. No doubt happy with herself that she's proven me wrong.
"We keep popping up at the same places I see."
"I've been going to this pub for years."
"That's interesting, so have I."
"Funny how our lives keep revolving and intertwining with each other."
More than she realizes.
"Is this a friend of yours?" The suit asks while assessing me in the way that men do when they're sizing up another man. Chest out. Voice dropping one octave lower. Looks like he's on date number two, and he already thinks she's his property. Asshole.
"Cat got your tongue, princess? Answer the man."
Sloan shifts in her seat. I take pleasure in the fact that on occasion I can make her feel quite uncomfortable. I'm not sure if it's what I say, how I say it, or the fact that I'm saying anything to her at all, but I definitely take a sick pleasure in making her squirm. It's just a prelude to all the many other ways I'd like to see her squirm.
Under me.
On top of me.
"He's a friend of a friend." She refers to me dismissively. Then she takes a long, drawn out sip of her wine and gives me a hard glare from head to toe behind the glass. "And my landlord."
"I'm Doctor Aiden Clark. Sloan's . . . date."
He makes sure to exaggerate the doctor part of his name as he offers his hand for a handshake. I paste on a fake smile and accept it reluctantly.
"Cutter King."
"Is my hot water back on, Mr. King?" Sloan asks. Eyes sparkling like she's winning some sort of battle of wills between us.
But I make sure to look both at her and the doctor when I say, "The problem is bigger than Pete or I had anticipated. Your water will be off for another day or so, but no worries, you can take your showers at my place again."
I move closer to her stool.
Almost touching her knees.
Staring directly at her bruised eye, then her lips, then her breasts. Sensing how her breathing is becoming more erratic, my dick inadvertently responds.
Hardening.
Extending.
Straining against the zipper of my jeans. Completely ignoring everyone around us especially the suited stranger with his chest poked out.
"Your washcloth is right where you left it. Next to mine."
I'm loving how she's looking at me right now. Angry. Passionate. Those eyes. Even with one bruised, Sloan's eyes are sexy as fuck. They're almond shaped with irises the color of topaz, framed by long black lashes that flutter when she's frazzled or angry or both.
She turns quickly to the doctor to talk her way out of this.
"He lives on my floor. We have mutual friends. He offered me the use of his shower, so I could go to work."
"Don't forget breakfast," I add. "You like a good piece of bacon."
"I didn't ask you to make that!"
"Yet you ate every morsel."
The doctor quietly nods at her explanation, but he doesn't look like he understands. In fact the poor sap looks like he's going to be sick.
"I get it. He's your neighbor and you needed to shower. No explanation necessary, Sloan."
She looks back at me with a venomous glare.
"Don't let us keep you from your evening, Mr. King. I'm sure you don't want to keep your dinner companion waiting."
I don't miss how Sloan attempts to inconspicuously look behind and around me, as if she's looking for someone I may be here with. It's cute. Jealousy suits her.
"Clark and I would like to finish our meal–"
"Actually, Sloan–" He throws a few bills on the bar top. "I have to head out. Sorry about
this, but I need to check on one of my patients. He's having some trouble adjusting to a dosage increase."
Sloan motions to stand, but I quickly grab onto her wrist to stop her from going after him, because for a minute it looked like she was about to. I know she's probably angry with my behavior tonight, but Doctor Clark would just be another mistake like all the other mistakes she's made with men in the past. Once again, I'm actually doing her a big favor.
I'll just put it on her tab.
"Of course, Clark. Your patients come first. I'll call you later," she says way too cheerily. My guess is that it's totally for my benefit. She doesn't give two shits about this guy or she would have left with him. Plain and simple.
"Nice guy you were about to spread your legs for."
"So what if I was? Are you my daddy now?"
"I'll spank you like your daddy if that's what you're into," I tease, but the sexy visual of my hand across Sloan's perfect ass is only teasing one person right now and that's me.
Sloan pivots slightly on her stool, so that she's directly face-to-face with me, leans casually back on the bar top, and spreads her amazingly long, jean clad legs far apart. Even with clothes covering that piece of the promised land between her legs, my mouth still begins to water.
"I'm into all of that shit, Cutter King, but you'll never get to know. And that's what the real problem is isn't it? You've never met a woman who didn't think you were adorable, or hysterical, or who didn't want to immediately drop to her knees and suck you off, have you? Someone who's absolutely, unequivocally, not interested in you."
That mouth.
The fire in her eyes.
This woman's going to be the death of me.
If this is what not interested looks like, I can only imagine what interested does. "You think you that you don't like someone like me, but all this fire you're spitting at me, is nothing but pent up need."
"Puh-lease."
"You're absolutely right about one thing, princess, I've never met a woman who didn't want to perform that very specific act you just described on me. An act that you've clearly been thinking about doing to me for a very long time. I bet you're good at that shit too."
The lines around her mouth contort into the cutest little puke face.
"Don't flatter yourself. You haven't even been a fleeting thought."
She's saying one thing, but her body language is saying another. And now she's just given me the worst thing you can offer a King. Possibility. When there's even the slightest chance for me to get what I want, I'm like a dog with a bone. I won't fucking let go.
And I want her.
I bend over and position my mouth closely to her ear. Her first instinct is to pull away, but there's nowhere for her to go. I can see the goose bumps rise on the back of her neck and forearms. I'm not sure if they're there due to fear or desire, but either way I'm good with it.
"Not even one fleeting thought?" I taunt.
She's silent but smiling as she nods her head to dramatically to make her point.
"Nope."
"Did you take an Uber here?" I ask.
"Why? Are you offering me a ride home since you scared my date away?"
One corner of Sloan's pretty mouth turns up when she asks her question. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think she was flirting with me.
"Let's not pretend that was some sort of date. At best you were just trying to prove some point to me, and at worst he was just another suit you were going to use as a bed warmer to give the old vibrator a break. You don't go on dates. You don't believe in love. Remember?"
Her mouth drops in shock for only a moment, and then she presses her lips together tightly in anger. She's definitely about to rip me a new one when we're interrupted by Johnson. Hell, I forgot he was here.
"Sorry to interrupt, boss, but it's Granny. I've got to get home and help her get ready for bed."
"No problem, just send me the file and I'll take it from there. I'll put the payment in your account tomorrow. Thanks for everything."
"Thank you, boss."
Johnson doesn't move as he stares at Sloan for a moment waiting for an introduction. He obviously knows that this is the woman we're working to protect, and he wants to say hi.
"Oh sorry. Johnson, this is Miss Pearson. Sloan, this is Johnson."
"Nice to meet you."
"Same to you. Hey, do you need a ride home, Johnson? Seems like your boss here is in the mood for giving out rides."
I give Johnson a quick look that he knows very well. It means to scram. Then before she can say anything else to him, I lean over and cradle the right side of her face with my hand. Gripping the base of her neck with my fingers and using my thumb to touch her lips.
Her mouth parts for me as I gingerly use my thumb to rub the coral colored lipstick off of her lips. I'm almost tempted to slide my thumb inside of her mouth, wondering if she'd suck it or more likely try to bite it off, but this isn't the place for that.
"Let's go home, princess," I growl. My dick brick hard from our minimal contact. "I'm definitely giving out rides tonight, but the only passenger will be you."
Twenty-Two
Sloan
I'm not exactly sure how I ended up here. I shouldn't even be talking to this man, but there's something about the way Cutter words things which makes him a powerfully persuasive man. Now I think I'm starting to see what everyone's talking about. He's the ultimate negotiator.
He makes a convincing argument about it making more sense for me to take a hot shower at his house. So I do. Changing into a pair of clean black leggings and a Nirvana sweatshirt. Then all of a sudden, he whips up a delicious ribeye steak while we watch a comedy special on Netflix. One of his favorites. Then after dinner we have a glass of wine and watch the first episode of Downton Abbey. My favorite. And now he's pulled out a deck of Uno cards. My favorite card game and evidently his too.
"Let's play for something," he suggests.
"For fun?"
"No. Kings don't play for fun. Let's raise the stakes."
"I thought I made it clear in the car that I'm not riding you."
He laughs. "We don't have to raise them that high. How about the person who wins the hand can ask the other a question. A question that has to be answered honestly."
"There's nothing that I want to know about you," I lie.
"Really? Because there's so much about you that I want to know."
"Then I guess you'll have to win your hands, but I have to warn you, I'm a master Uno player."
"We'll see."
I've been beating people in my family at Uno since I was twelve years old, so I win the first hand in about five minutes. The first question belongs to me.
"All right," he says with a flirty smile. "Ask your question."
"Why did you really buy this building?"
"You owe me a debt, and I'm here to collect."
I raise my eyebrow at that then shuffle the cards. Dealing each of us seven cards. After a longer game than the last, Cutter finally wins. The second question belongs to him.
"Have you ever seriously considered sleeping with me?"
"You're getting right to it, aren't you?"
"Answer honestly," he singsongs.
"Maybe."
"That's honest?"
"Ok fine . . . yes."
"So why are you fighting it when you and I both already know that it's going to be amazing between us."
"That's two questions." I laugh. "You'll need to win another hand if you want an answer to that."
"I love it when you laugh."
There's an awkward moment of silence between us, because I don't know what to say in response to that. Thank you? I take a sip of wine instead. He poured me a nice glass of pinot noir to go with dinner.
"Why did you go out with the doctor tonight?" he asks me with a serious look on his face. His earlier playfulness gone. "You think that's going to keep me away?"
"That's a third question," I say nervously.
"T
he game is fucking over."
All of a sudden Cutter moves his chair back. The sound the legs make scraping against the floor startles me. He stands up and begins to circle me slowly. Stopping directly behind me.
I sit stock still.
Concentrating on my breath.
A thick heavy silence fills the air.
He slides his palm onto the back of my head. Gripping my hair at the base of my scalp. He pulls my head to the side, grazing his mouth against the side of my neck.
"Stand up," he orders.
I try to pretend as if I'm unaffected by what he's doing by taking another sip of my wine, setting the glass down, and then slowly coming to a full stand. Still with my back to him.
"Were you trying to teach me a lesson tonight?"
I don't answer. Savoring the prickly feeling of his five o'clock shadow against my skin as he speaks.
"I know that I said I wouldn't touch you until you asked me nicely or begged me angrily, but as you can see that's shot to hell."
He waits for me to respond, but I say nothing.
"What, no clever come back this time?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't want you to say any fucking thing. I want to make you scream."
"I'm not a screamer."
"I don't believe that for one second, and I hope that waiting to make the first move has been as painful for you as it has been for me," he says gruffly near my ear.
He uses his other hand to trace a path from my clavicle down the center of my chest, past my navel, and straight inside of my leggings to my clit."
My knees buckle, and I fall back against him.
His aggressive touch was unexpected.
And my body very much likes it.
"That's a good girl," he practically purrs. "Lean completely on me and spread your legs wider for your king."
Cutter releases the hand that was in my hair and slides it around the base of my throat. Holding me in place against him as his other hand continues its carnal exploration of me.
It feels just as exquisite as I hoped, or rather that I fantasized, submission to Cutter would. Another strange feeling of dichotomy. I love how he is making my body feel, and I hate that I love it.
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 34