4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page

by Knight, Natalie

  I shake off the thoughts. Focus, I have to focus.

  Kevin clears his throat, and he looks distracted again.

  “I’m going into a meeting in a couple of minutes,” he says with a solemn face. If he’d seen me staring, he doesn’t show it. “I’ll need you to wait here, though. It’s a private matter. I might need you to come into the board room, though. It depends on how it goes. So be on standby so I can call you.”

  I nod. “I’ll be right here,” I say.

  “Good girl,” Kevin says and walks away.

  I am thrilled by the ownership that comes with a compliment that should have felt more condescending than it does.

  With Kevin gone, I turn to my desk and sit down behind it. I glance at his office. This is where I am going to sit every day for the foreseeable future. When I look toward his office, I know I will be able to see him perfectly and that makes me excited. He’s my boss, I tell myself, but that doesn’t change the fact that I think he is hot as hell.

  I lean back in my chair. Kevin Meyers is a man that looks like he knows exactly what he wants and he gets it, too. The way that he speaks to me makes me feel like he is in control. And why wouldn’t he be? He is my boss. But it is more than that.

  Kevin looks like he is the type of man that would dominate a woman in the bedroom. Just enough to be hot as hell. There is something deliciously sexy about a man grabbing a woman’s hair or putting his hand on her throat. I like the idea of a man making demands. I like the idea of Kevin making demands.

  God, the things I would do for him if he but asks. I can just picture myself on his desk in lingerie, my legs open for him so that he can explore my body. Or kneeling in front of him with his dick in my mouth. If he puts his hand at the back of my head when I suck him off, it would be so much hotter still, with him pushing me to my limit and me letting him because I am his for the taking.

  Dana comes toward me and that rips me out of the dirty day dreams I am having about someone I shouldn’t be fantasizing about. I feel my cheeks flame, knowing full well that Dana wouldn’t know that I am dreaming about Kevin, and feeling silly, anyway.

  “I’m Dana,” she says and smiles at me. Her shoulder length bob is more red than brown up close, and she has a smattering of freckles across her nose that move when she smiles. “You’re the new girl.”

  I nod, even though it isn’t a question.

  “Let me show you the filing cabinet while you have some time to breathe. You won’t have that once Mr. Meyers comes out of the meeting.” I notice she doesn’t call him Kevin the way he asked me to. I wonder if it is a privilege to do so and what it means, if it is.

  “He had the last girl running around like a headless chicken,” Dana says, turning toward the filing cabinets and expecting me to follow her. “But if I must be honest with you, I don’t think he liked her very much.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Dana shrugs and flips her hair. “I don’t know. I guess you just don’t click with some people.”

  I nod, wondering if that was all it was. I guess I will find out in due time. I look down the corridor where Kevin had disappeared to. Dana prattles on, and I wonder if I will be stuck with her for a long time, still.

  Time passes slowly in an office I don’t know with nothing to work on. After learning how to do the filing from Dana and finding Hannah in accounting much earlier than I need to, I have nothing to do until Kevin finally comes back to his office. He looks tired when he arrives.

  “Carly,” he calls, beckoning to me as he walks into his office. I jump up and follow him in.

  “Close the door, please,” he says.

  I turn around and do as he asks, aware that the blinds are open and only what we say will be private. Not that it matters. What else would happen?

  Kevin sits down on the edge of his desk. He gestures to the chair facing him, and I sit down, perching on the edge, ankles together and hands folded in my lap. I’m not comfortable yet, and being around Kevin in an enclosed space is disconcerting. I can smell his cologne, and it is manly and attractive, designed to make women fawn over him.

  It works.

  “I need to talk to you about what’s going on,” he says, and he sounds so dejected I get rid of all my naughty thoughts and focus on him. “It’s not a big deal, not really, but you ought to know. I have new investors. They signed on with Raven Publishers about two weeks ago. Mr. Franklin Hull is a particularly difficult man.”

  Kevin takes a deep breath. I listen intently.

  “We were caught in a tussle on Friday–my HR manager and I–and it was portrayed a lot worse than was necessary in the tabloids. You can imagine what a nuisance they are.”

  He tales another deep breath. He seems stressed. I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything at all.

  “The problem with this is the fact that any little thing will cost me the investment. They were already threatening to pull out after this unfortunate situation. It was nothing, but they’re serious about image, and they don’t like it when anything goes wrong.”

  He looks at me, and his eyes are bright. He looks at me for long enough that I think he might want me to say something.

  “I understand,” I say.

  “I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I need your help keeping an eye on things.”

  “Me?” I ask. It seems like a very sudden, very big responsibility.

  Kevin nods and smiles. It is a warm, encouraging smile.

  “You’re my assistant. You’re an extension of my image now, essentially an extension of me.”

  I blink at him. He shakes his head and chuckles. His voice is deep and velvety when he does.

  “I just need some help keeping a handle on things.”

  I smile and nod. I am wanted. I am needed. This is exactly what I am here for.

  “Absolutely,” I say. “You can count on me.”

  He gives me another of his brilliant smiles, and I melt into my shoes.

  Kevin

  By Wednesday afternoon, I am more than impressed with Carly. I made the right choice in hiring her, and it isn’t just because she is the hottest thing I’ve seen on two legs. She is efficient, quick on the uptake, and she makes my job so much easier.

  She understands what I want and when I want it, without me needing to tell her. We are on the right level so far, and that is exactly what I need in a personal assistant.

  More than that, I had her go through a lot of paperwork the board had me swamped with. She went through fast – almost as fast as I would have done it. This bet looks like a sure deal. Sorry, Scott.

  Of course, it helps a lot that she is so easy on the eyes. She is graceful and elegant when she walks, carrying herself like she is proud of who she is. Her long dark hair frames her delicate face, and she has these deep, liquid eyes that I can get lost in if I allow myself to stare into them for too long.

  Every day, she wears something different, something equally flattering as she did the day before. Whether it is a skirt or a pair of pants, she always looks well put together and neat as a pin.

  Of course, I prefer it when she wears skirts. Her legs are to die for, and her skin tone is so light it is like marble.

  After she comes back from lunch, I call her in.

  “Close the door, will you?” I ask.

  She does and walks to my desk.

  “Sit down,” I say when she doesn’t. She never sits down unless I ask. Such manners.

  “How are you enjoying your work here?” I ask.

  She smiles at me, and it lights up her face. It is a good start. God, she is beautiful.

  “Very much,” she says. “I think I’m fitting in well. Very well. I’m getting along with everyone in the office and I think I’m managing with the work.”

  She is soft spoken, her voice feminine and a little husky. It is the kind of voice I would love to get off to on the phone. I can listen to her talk all night long. I can just imagine what she would sound like during sex. Fuck me.

&n
bsp; I really want her. I want to get to know more of her, to spend more time with her, to see who she is outside of the office.

  “Do you want to go out for a drink with me tonight?” I ask.

  The question surprises me as much as it surprises her. She frowns slightly, her perfectly manicured brows knitting together.

  “I mean…” I start, but there is no way I can make that sound different than it does.

  “I’d like that,” she says, and I blink at her. Did she just accept?

  “I want to go to Marvel Bar. Do you know where it is?”

  She nods.

  “Meet me there. Seven”

  She smiles at me and nods. My phone rings and I pick it up, not bothering to let her deal with the call. I watch her as I speak on the phone, watching her get up and leave. Her ass is perfect–round, lifted cheeks and beautiful thighs, hugged by the pants she wears today.

  She leaves the door open, and I see her through the window, walking to her desk.

  She said yes.

  I arrive at Marvel early and get a table in the back. I want her all to myself. I want to talk to her, to give her all my attention. I’d gotten dressed in Levi jeans and a collared shirt with Italian loafers. My hair is geled up a little so that I don’t look as stiff as I had in the office. I order a whiskey while I wait for her.

  The bar is a nice place, decorated with a bit of a retro feel in shades of brown and a bit of sea green here and there. It is full enough for a week night. Music plays in the background and the lower lighting makes it feel warm and intimate.

  She arrives five minutes late, and I see her the moment she walks into the door. I couldn’t miss her. Apparently, neither could any of the other men. They stare at her as she stops just inside the door, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for me.

  When she spots me, she smiles. Her face lights up, and I watch her weave her way through the tables toward me. She wears a sheath dress that accentuates her curves, even though it doesn’t cling to her body. Her heels are higher, and her hair is pulled back from her face so that her dark eyes look even bigger. She comes toward me all rolling hips and luscious lips.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” she says when she sits down. “You look so different out of your suit.”

  “Well, you look fantastic,” I say. She blushes–blushes–and her smile is even more beautiful than I’d seen before.

  I order her a cocktail–women like cocktails–and we start talking. She tells me about her sister and her parents and her studies. I only partially hear what she says. Her mouth mesmerizes me when she speaks and I want to kiss her. The more I drink, the more I want to pull into her, push my tongue into her mouth, pull her body against mine. I am playing with fire but I don’t care. That is because of the alcohol, too.

  I am buzzing, and she looks like she is getting drunk, too. She laughs more and speaks more freely, her shyness disappearing. I like the woman that sits before me.

  When the night comes to an end, I am more than tipsy. I feel like I’m walking on air and I am painfully aware of my cock and how it is throbbing in my pants. When I stand up and hold out my hand, Carly takes it. Her hand is soft. I help her up and she ends up almost against me, our bodies so close that a sigh would push us together. Her breath hitches in her throat and in her eyes, I see the potential, the possibilities of the night

  Oh, yes.

  I let her walk through the crowd first, instead of leading her through, holding her hand. I have to keep that damn business image in mind that Hull is so anal about.

  “Did you drive?” I ask.

  Carly stands next to me, hugging herself against the chill in the air. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her to me a little. She shakes her head.

  “Taxi,” she says.

  “Good.”

  A moment later, my driver pulls up with my car. It is a black Mercedes–not quite a limo but longer than the average car–and I like it that no one can see through the tinted windows.

  I open the door for her, and she slides into the leather seats first.

  “This is classy,” Carly says when the car purrs to life beneath us. I move closer to her. She glances up at me but she doesn’t move away.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I say.

  She turns her face to me and she is so close to mine that I can almost taste her lips. Her eyes are on mine for a moment before her gaze slides to my lips. She wants me to kiss her.

  Who am I to turn away a woman who needs me like that? I close the distance, pressing my lips against hers.

  Maybe it is the alcohol, but the kiss is electric. Her lips are soft and she tastes like alcohol and desire. I ache for her, which is probably the alcohol talking, too. I’m not going to deny myself if she is willing.

  Somewhere at the back of my mind, a little voice screams at me, reminding me of Hull and his demands, but I push it away and reach up to her face, putting my palm on her cheek.

  I push my tongue into her mouth, and almost immediately, the kiss becomes urgent. She kisses me like she’ll never kiss again, her tongue swirling around mine, her hand on my chest tugging at my shirt.

  I let my hand trail down her neck and touch her soft skin before I move my hand onto her chest. The material of her dress is thin and I can feel the edge of her bra before my hand slides onto her breast. I cup her breast and knead and massage her. She breathes hard into my mouth.

  She slides her hand into my lap and rubs my cock through my jeans without going on a detour touching my body in the process. A woman that knows what she wants: I like it.

  I pull her closer against me. Her skin is hot through her dress. I tug at her collar once or twice before I realize the material won’t budge, and I won’t be able to get to her nipples from here. I have to just wait until later.

  Instead, I move my hand down her body, tracing her contours until my palm is on the bare skin of her thigh where the hem of her dress has ridden up. I push my hand underneath her dress. She gasps and leans into me, turning her body so that I can squeeze her ass.

  I do, and it is a fantastic ass. It feels just as good as it looks. Still, that isn’t what I am after.

  I move my hand around her leg, leaning against her so that her body is upright again. When my fingers touch the material of her panties, she gapes, breaking the kiss. She opens her legs for me but she glances at the driver at the same time.

  He isn’t very close to us with the extra length to the car.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I whispered. The guy is the perfect driver. He chooses not to know what I do in the backseat of the car, and he keeps whatever he sees to himself. I pay him a lot of money for that, and he is as discreet and non-judgmental as they come.

  The reassurance seems to be enough for Carly. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she opens her legs wider for me. I rub her pussy through the material. She is wet, the material soaked, and she gasps. I only tease her like that for a short while before it drives me crazy, too.

  I pull her panties to the side, exposing a bare pussy. There is something beautiful about a woman baring it all. I don’t mind, either way, but to me, it speaks of confidence and self-esteem that I don’t see in many women. It takes courage to be so exposed.

  When I push my fingers into her slit, she moans. I run my finger along the length of her slit, coating it with her sex until my fingers are slick. I draw small circles around her clit, making her gasp and squirm against the leather car seat. God, I want to do so much more to her. I want to slam my dick into her and fuck her hard, but that isn’t going to happen. Not in the car.

  My fingers are going to have to cut it for now.

  After working her clit over a little, I push my fingers into her entrance, and she gasps again. Her breathing becomes louder, and she makes small whimpering sounds. It appears that she is quite vocal, which I enjoy. It’s the opposite of what I expected from the soft-spoken assistant I’d hired.

  I only finger fuck her a short while before returning to her clit. I rub it w
ith two fingers, sliding my fingers over her clit faster and faster, taking my cues from her breathing. I can tell when she is getting close. It isn’t just the way her body is jerking now and then or how she writhes against my hand, but her breathing becomes shallow and erratic and she closes her eyes, shutting out the world.

  When she orgasms, her legs close around my hands and she curls her body forward. I let her lie against me, and I tip her head up with my hand underneath her chin, kissing her. She gasps against my lips and stops breathing for a moment. A small, almost strangled sound escapes her lips before she breathes hard.

  She is so hot when she orgasms. God, it makes me want to fuck her right then and there.

  The car stops in front of her apartment building. She looks at me, her eyes large and liquid.

  “Do you want to come up?” she asks.

  I nod, get out of the car when she did, and I dismiss the driver.

  Carly

  I shouldn’t have asked him up to my apartment. I know that. Hell, I shouldn’t even have let him kiss me.

  But he is so fucking hot, wearing his Levi’s that are faded in all the right places and that collared shirt that makes his arms and his chest look so big. I just couldn’t help it. When he kissed me, I had to kiss him back.

  I am drunk and completely aware of it. And I don’t care. Maybe that is because I’m drunk, but I don’t think about that too much. My head is light and airy, and I feel beautiful. I know that he looks at my body as I climb every step to my apartment on the second floor. I know that his eyes are glued to my ass when we walk to my front door, and I know that his fingers smell like me because of how he’d touched me in the car.

  I don’t just want to send him home.

  When I unlock my door and invite him in, he barely stays away from me to close and lock the door behind us. He is on top of me in no time, driving me backward until my back is against the wall next to the door. I bump the small table next to the door–where I put my keys and my handbag–with my hip, and the wooden elephant ornament falls off. It makes a dull thud on the carpet, and I don’t care if it is broken or not.