by Abby Angel
I can still feel Carter’s cum leaking from my pussy, and slipping down my thighs as we kiss until the need for air forces our lips to part. Carter throws another devastating smile at me before sliding to his knees and pushing me back against the desk. I lean back on my arms and lift my legs onto his shoulders. He licks the trail of cum that's slowly sliding down my inner thigh. He follows that trail all the way up to my pulsing pussy, his tongue slipping inside my sensitive swollen folds and licking his seed from inside my pussy. Light little teasing licks that threaten to spark a fresh fire of lust and desire in my veins. Damn, Carter just might kill me, but I'd sure as hell go with the world's biggest smile. I may not have gotten the advice I was looking for, but my meeting with Carter was a real eye opener. That’s for certain. Maybe I need to meet with Derek again, see what he has to offer?
I mean after all, I do need to think long and hard about my investments.
Chapter Eleven
Derek
It's early—but this morning, I'm on a mission. I have a plan that I hope will work.
The barista behind the bar calls out my name. "Derek! Derek! I have a triple shot Americano for Derek!"
I walk up to retrieve my drink and she smiles, batting her eyelashes.
"I heard you the first time," I laugh.
"Derek, huh? I don't hear that name too often in Manhattan … Texas maybe, but the city? Never. And you're more James Bond than a cowboy, anyway … by the looks of you." She says this with a devilish grin.
"There's a first time for everything," I reply, grabbing my drink and turning to leave. I can tell she doesn't want the conversation to end; she's practically undressing me with her eyes, and yes, I'll admit it; she's cute enough to fuck. But today, I've only got one woman on my mind.
I give the barista a quick wave, walk out onto the street with my drink in hand, and I pass a local flower shop.
Flowers aren't normally my thing, but today I stop, turn around, and walk in. Without hesitation, I ask the florist for 100 long-stemmed roses, and I watch as they reach into a small refrigerator and gather them all.
What? Don't roll your eyes at me.
Trust me, roses aren't as cliché as you think they are. They work every time.
Have you ever seen a bunch of 100 long-stemmed red roses? Because it's fucking striking, and today, I'm out to make an impression.
To say I'm competitive is an understatement. I eat competition for fucking breakfast.
And if you think I'm going to let Carter gain the upper hand with Eliza, you're mistaken.
I walk out of the flower shop with a box in my arms that's bigger than I imagined it'd be. I envisioned tucking something slender under one arm, but no, this box is massive, complete with a red velvet bow bigger than my face.
Holding the box in both arms, I reach the elevator to Eliza's apartment. Without any free hands, I have to lift my leg and tap the button with my knee.
The door slides open and I walk in.
There's an older gentleman standing in the back corner of the elevator, and he looks at my box, looks back at me, and gives me a shrill whistle.
"Who's the lucky lady?" he asks.
I don't know whether to take this as a rhetorical question or not, but I decide to keep the banter light. "Just a friend," I smile.
"She must be some friend," he replies with emphasis, and as the doors slide open to his floor, he turns around and gives me a quick nod, saying, "Good luck."
I return the gesture and flash him a smile, but in my mind I'm saying to myself, does it look like I fucking need luck? I've got this in the bag.
As soon as the elevator reaches the 72nd floor, I step out and walk toward Eliza's apartment. Without hesitation this time, I knock on her door and she immediately answers.
She pulls the door open, and the surprise on her face is palpable.
Bingo.
I told you the flowers were a good idea.
"Derek—I—I wasn't expecting you."
"I know; I thought I'd surprise you," I smile.
"And what's this?" she asks, pointing to the box.
"This is for you," I reply. "Open it."
I hand her the box and it's heavier than she thought it would be, so she fumbles it for a moment, and I help her catch it, which causes us to both laugh.
"It's OK, you don't have to be nervous," I say, taking the top off of the box, to reveal what's inside.
"Very funny," she smirks.
And then I fucking swear that I almost hear her gasp. "Oh, they're beautiful," she smiles, leaning in to smell all 100 roses. As she leans down, I can't help but catch a perfect view of her tits, and my eyes travel down that dark, cavernous trail of her cleavage.
I know … I know … I'm a guy, okay? I can't fucking help it.
I can feel my cock twitch in my pants.
"I think we should spend the day together," I say, "Just you and I, and this big, beautiful city."
"Well … Daddy, you've certainly got my attention," she smiles, "but I have a lot of meetings planned today."
I'm not going to lie; the way she calls me 'daddy' makes my heart kick in my chest more than it should.
"Forget those meetings," I reply, reaching over and stroking her hair with one finger, "the only meeting you need is with me." I'm standing so close to her now that I can smell her shampoo.
She laughs and shakes her head.
"It's tempting," she purrs, placing one hand on mine. "But people will …" and she stops for a moment, placing her hand on the silk of my tie, starting at the knot, and slowly sliding it down, "… be very …" and her hand moves off my tie and is now resting on the buckle of my pants as she leans in to whisper into my ear, "upset."
"Is that so," I say, just above a whisper. It isn't a question, but more like a dare. My cock is fucking harder than a tree trunk, and just as big, and further more, it seems to have grown its own pulse now too.
"But … I may be able to find some time," she purrs. "Meet me at Emporio Armani on Fifth Avenue after work for a drink."
"Deal," I reply without hesitation.
And before she can get another word in, I lean in and bring my lips to hers. She opens her mouth, and I nibble on her bottom lip tenderly with my teeth before pressing my tongue against hers. I pull her tightly into my embrace, and as we kiss, the entire fucking outside world melts away.
I pull away, and give her a smile. She looks flushed and breathless.
"See you tonight," I say, and walk down the hall, resisting the urge to give a victory pump in the air with my fist, or to turn around and see the look on her face.
Why? Because I don't need to turn around.
I made the impression I need.
As they say … mission accomplished.
Chapter Twelve
Carter
I usually don’t go out for drinks after a day of work, but today I’ve decided to make an exception. Sitting in the back of my limo, stroking the length of my tie as I watch New York roll by me, I think back to what happened between Eliza and I.
That girl is a hurricane, a living force of nature. Her lips, her eyes, her breasts… Everything in her seems to have been designed with one end in mind: sin. Closing my eyes just for a few seconds, I let my mind recreate how it felt to undress her and reveal her skin inch by inch. God, the taste of her nipples in my mouth, the eager wetness between her thighs… Before her, I never knew that magic could be real; but her body is a spell, something out of this world.
Exhaling heavily, I open up my eyes and take a deep breath. I’ve been daydreaming for just a few seconds now, and look at me; I'm already sporting an erection big enough to rip through my pants. I don’t think I've ever felt this attracted to anyone, even back when I was just a teenager, drooling after big name actresses on the silver screen. There’s something about Eliza that just draws me in and makes me want more and more and more…
Alright, I need to get it together.
The limo pulls to the curb and halts to a stop in f
ront of the Armani store, and I take another deep breath as the driver goes around the limo and opens up my door. I get out with an acknowledging nod and button up my jacket, feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time—nervous.
A few bystanders look at me, probably trying to figure out who is the rich asshole in the limo, but I just walk past everyone and make my way toward the building. I enter through the main entrance, but I head straight toward the elevators and make my way toward the bar. Just as I expected, Eliza is already there, sitting by herself and nursing a glass of whisky; she might be only 25, but her taste is as refined as my own.
“Alright,” I mutter under my breath, walking across the bar. Eliza looks up at me then, her eyes slightly widening in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asks me as I sit down on the vacant seat across from her.
“I’m here for a drink, of course,” I reply with a grin, leaning back and throwing my arm over the headrest. “I’ll have what she’s having,” I tell the server as he comes to take my request, and then I focus my attention on Eliza again. God, she looks even more stunning today, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like silk curtains.
“How did you know I was in here?” she continues, and I notice that she hasn’t cracked a smile yet. I was thinking that after what happened between the two of us, she’d be happy to see me.
“The maître d’ is on my payroll,” I tell her with a shrug. I’ve been paying her for five years now, and she always tells me when someone important walks inside the bar or the restaurant. Intel—it's one of the most important assets when it comes to doing business. Or, in this case, when it comes to matters of the heart.
“That’s low of you. I’m your stepdaughter, not someone you spy on.” She takes a sip of her whisky and, even though she has just chided me, she doesn’t look particularly bothered.
“Well, all's fair when it comes to love and war,” I shrug, but she turns her gaze toward me as she hears my words.
“This isn’t love, and this sure as hell isn’t war either,” she shoots back, and I feel my insides clenching into a ball made of ice. Is she shooting me down?
“This can be whatever you want it to be, Eliza,” I push through, lowering my voice and leaning forward. Reaching for her, I lay one handle gently on her naked knee, my fingertips brushing against the hemline of her dress; my heart picks up the pace as I feel the warmth of her skin, and I purse my lips and look into her eyes. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to my place.”
The words hang heavy in the air and, judging by the mischievous look in her face, I can tell that she’s pondering my offer.
“And what would we do at your place?” she finally asks, laying her hand on top of mine and dragging her fingernails across my skin. A shiver goes up my spine as she does it, and I feel blood rushing to my cock. It starts hardening up fast and, in a matter of just a few seconds I have a bulging shape tenting my pants.
“Everything,” I simply growl, and her eyes fall away from mine, and her gaze lands on my crotch. She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, and I just wait as she imagines all the things we can do when we’re alone, just the two of us, and our naked bodies.
“You’re worse than herpes, Carter,” I hear a deep voice say right behind me, and I don’t even need to turn around to know who’s there. Derek Stackford, the man who prides himself on being a thorn in my side.
“What the hell are you doing here? Following me around now?” I ask him, finally turning around so that I can meet his gaze.
“Following you? You gotta get yourself checked out. Why the hell would I be following you? I came here because Eliza invited me.” Alright, I gotta say, I’m a bit taken aback at his words. I knew Eliza was here, but I never thought that she’d be meeting Derek. I mean, why would she want to meet him after what happened between the two of us?
But, looking into Eliza’s eyes, I know it’s the truth. She came here because she had a date with Derek. And now I’m the one looking like a complete tool.
“So, yeah. Go back to wherever you came from,” Derek continues, and I can only translate the grin he has on his face as an 'I won this round.' Shit.
“Who do you think you’re talking to, Derek? Just because Eliza agreed to go out with you doesn’t mean that you’re all that important. A date is just a date.” I go back up to my feet and turn to face him, just a few feet separating us.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy,” he scoffs, patting me on the arm and sitting down on the seat where I was. He leans back and crosses his legs, smiling at Eliza as if I weren’t standing just a few feet away from the two of them.
I look at Eliza, waiting for her to say something, but she just takes a sip of her whisky and folds her legs.
“C’mon, Eliza, let’s get out of here,” I say, while closing the distance between her and I. I offer her my hand, but she just looks at it with a cocked eyebrow, almost as if she hasn’t understood what I just said.
“I’m sorry?”
“Let’s get out of here,” I repeat, but she just leans back against her chair and sighs, an annoyed expression on her face.
“I don’t know what kind of woman you usually go out with, Carter, but I can assure you I’m not a piece of property. You don’t own me,” she whispers with a dead serious expression, and I let my hand fall to my side. She’s blowing me off, and right in front of Derek.
“No, I don’t own you. But neither does Derek. And I don’t believe you want to spend your evening with him when you can --”
“I’m my own woman,” she says, going up to her feet and staring me down. “And I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” With that, she walks past me and goes to Derek’s side. Laying one hand on his shoulder, she then turns to me. “I had an evening planned, and I’m not the kind of woman to go back on her word. Let’s get out of here, Derek,” she finishes off, grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him up to his feet.
“Goodnight, Carter,” she offers before turning her back to me and dragging Derek behind her. I stare at the two of them as they walk across the bar, making a straight line toward the elevators. They step inside with hurried steps and, when the doors finally close in on them, I realize that I’m clenching my jaw so hard that my bones seem to be rattling.
Here I was, believing that I was just a few seconds away from convincing Eliza to join me at my apartment, and now this.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter Thirteen
Eliza
Derek and I barely make it inside the limo before I wrap my arms around his neck and bring our lips together. Carter does not fucking own me, but this isn’t about Carter. Not even a little bit. This is about the hot, steamy tension that’s been building between Derek and I for as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted Derek for a long time, and if the rapidly hardening cock I feel against my thigh is any indication, I’d say it’s definitely a two way attraction.
I know people say you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, but those people have never had to do business with the irresistible force that is Derek Stackford. Derek is a man who rarely hears the word 'no' in the boardroom, or the bedroom. He sure as hell won’t be hearing no from me tonight, unless it’s “no please don’t stop.” My desire for Derek is like a runaway train and I don’t want it to stop. I want to give in to what my body wants, and what it wants right now is Derek.
“What are you doing?” He asks me, short of breath, as he pulls back from my kiss.
“What does it look like?” I shoot right back at him, narrowing my eyes into slits as I run my tongue over my lower lip.
“You’re a dangerous one, aren’t you?” He asks me again but, this time, he doesn’t wait for a reply. Taking one hand to the nape of my neck, he leans into me again and crushes his mouth against mine.
Derek wastes no time taking control of our kiss. His fingers wind through my hair, wrapping my silky locks around his fist and pulling my head back all the better to plunder my
mouth with what I’m finding out is an extremely talented tongue. Derek’s tongue dives deeper into my mouth starting a fire under my skin that only he can control. The kiss sends a riot of sensation spiraling through my body as I lean close, intertwining our tongues, and tasting whiskey and something else underneath that’s uniquely Derek. Derek taps lightly on the tinted partition that separates us from the driver. I feel the limo pull smoothly away from the curb.
“Where are we going?” I ask even though I don’t give one single damn. All I want is to be spread out across these black leather seats with Derek’s cock inside me, sending me on a one way trip to ecstasy.
“Nowhere,” he says, “Max knows that’s the signal to just . . . drive.”
The signal, of course Derek has a signal to let the driver know he’s fucking in his limo. I’m not the tiniest bit surprised. Derek doesn’t have a reputation as an epic player for no reason, and the limo is definitely part of the legend. I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about what’s about to happen between us. Derek and his limo have played starring roles in some of my filthiest fantasies. I have no doubt that the real thing is going to surpass whatever I’ve dreamed.
I’m straddling Derek, my knees planted on either side of his hips, sinking into the soft buttery black leather of the seats. My hands grip the collar of his jacket and his free hand is resting on my hip. The limo might be air-conditioned, but I’m burning up. I pull back from my kiss with Derek and we’re both breathing hard, our breath mingling.
“Eliza, are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asks, the lust creeping into his voice making it deeper, rougher.
“More than ready,” I say kissing him hard and dirty, all teeth and tongue, nipping at his lower lip teasingly.