A_Taste_of_Decadence_ARE

by Blake_Harte_Quinn_Ryan_Rylon

  She looked down at the purple peep toes she’d selected this morning. They were the only color in her outfit. She was wearing a black skirt and gray top. The purple seemed to give her a little personality. Now she wondered what those purple, four-inch heels would look like propped on Sean Johansson’s shoulders.

  She was definitely going to need that margarita.

  * * * *

  Evan Parnell strode outside the building. He looked up and down the sidewalk and then carefully planted himself behind a large bush. He pulled out a cigarette, just another guy on a smoke break in a city that didn’t let a man’s vice inside its sanctified walls. He watched as the Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot with three occupants inside.

  Damn it, he didn’t like this. They were so close, and Matt had to try to reel in some asshole corporate account? Matt should be concentrating on the goddamn Bryson Building. That was where they would score. Everything else was a distraction.

  And distractions cost lives. Of course, they could be helpful on occasion. He chuckled as he thought about the last distraction he’d created. He’d enjoyed his brief time as an “ecoterrorist.” It had put the Agency off him and gotten him a small army of devoted “soldiers.” He had a couple of true believers, and they made excellent pawns. All he had to do was start a couple of fires, ruin some equipment, and suddenly no one was worried about his real activities.

  He let his eyes drift across the skyline. He could see the Bryson Building. It was a large, nondescript building like most of the structures that made up Fort Worth’s skyline. It was absolutely perfect because it housed the Texas Natural Gas Corporation. Not that he actually gave a damn about TNG, but it was the perfect cover. He couldn’t see the west side. It was in a small office on the west side of the building that he would make his final, biggest score, and then he could retire.

  In another week or so, he would be in Southeast Asia soaking up the sun and fucking as many girls as his dick could handle. Well, he would be if his brother didn’t screw everything up.

  Evan took a long drag off his cigarette. He wasn’t looking forward to another round of plastic surgery, but it would be necessary. Evan Parnell would have to disappear the same way Patrick Wright had, and this time he wouldn’t have Agency resources. They’d trained him well. Maybe if they’d paid him as well as they had trained him, he wouldn’t have gone rogue.

  He thought about the check in his pocket. Grace Hawthorne might not know it, but she’d been laundering his ill-gotten gains for years. She knew an awful lot about his banking practices. If his ex-handler ever caught up to him, she was a weak link. If Eli Nelson found him, he was screwed, and what Grace knew or didn’t know wouldn’t matter. Still, maybe he should think about taking her out. An accident. Yes, that could be arranged. He pulled out his cell and quickly called one of his loyal soldiers.

  Grace taken care of, Evan tossed the cigarette aside, not bothering to put it out. He didn’t care. He had a check to cash.

  * * * *

  Sean stared at Grace over the empty plates. She was flirting with the waiter. The young idiot was new to his job and had fumbled his way through taking their orders until Grace had turned her vibrant hazel eyes on him and starting talking to him in that ridiculously sexy twang of hers. He’d almost immediately calmed down, and the rest of the meal had been smooth sailing.

  She was something else. The photos of her didn’t come close to doing the woman justice. In the photos, he’d seen a woman approaching middle age. The clothes she’d worn had made her seem a bit plump, and the expression on her face had been a little sad. The pictures didn’t show how her skin glowed in the late afternoon light. Her hair, which had seemed a flat brown before, was actually more red than anything else. It was pulled back in a ponytail, but Sean was sure it would reach far past her shoulders when he it took down. Little tendrils, waves of auburn, kept escaping from the brutal captivity of the scrunchie to frame her face. He was fascinated with her throaty laugh. When Grace Hawthorne smiled, she could light up a room.

  Sean found himself slightly jealous of the attention she was fawning on the waiter until he realized she didn’t mean a thing by it. Years of training as a Dom had taught him to read a woman’s every nuance. She viewed the waiter almost as a little boy she was being kind to. There was nothing truly sexy about the way she flirted with the server. She wasn’t thinking about finding a quiet place and tangling herself around the kid. She wasn’t considering wrapping that gloriously glossed mouth around the kid’s cock to see how fast she could make him come. She certainly wasn’t wondering how to get the damn waiter’s mouth to close over her wet pussy.

  Sean was thinking about all of those things, although he’d placed himself as Grace’s partner instead of the waiter, and it was making it very hard to concentrate. The way Grace smiled at the waiter and patted his hand put Sean at ease. Then set him on edge when he figured out she viewed him the exact same way.

  He needed to fix that little problem and damn soon.

  “You need to think about moving a good portion of your project development to Chile.”

  Matt Wright’s declaration had Sean’s mind wrestling control back from his cock. It reminded him he had a job to do. “Chile? I hadn’t considered it. I thought most IT offshoring went to India these days.”

  Wright’s hand came out in a negligent gesture. It was sloppy, and his speech was becoming slurred. “It does, but South America is trying to get into the game. There are a lot of highly-educated South Americans looking for good work. Many of the people at the location I’m thinking of actually have degrees in programming from American colleges. I can give you the numbers and backgrounds, of course.”

  Grace dutifully made the note, but Sean hadn’t missed the slight tightening of her jaw when her boss had introduced the topic. She had misgivings about the South American projects. He would remember to question her about it later. She wouldn’t say anything in the middle of a meeting, he guessed. She seemed very loyal. Sean wondered if her loyalty would transfer from her boss to her lover.

  Sean played hard to get. He needed to be a bit elusive to draw out these negotiations. “I don’t know. We’ve been pretty happy with the Indian offices.”

  Wright waved a disdainful hand and took another drag off his drink. He was halfway to stone drunk. “I can cut your labor costs by fifteen percent and keep your workers in the same time zone.”

  Sean nodded and pretended to consider it. It was interesting that Wright was trying to sell him on the idea of Chile. According to his research, Wright’s agency had brokered several deals to offshore IT departments to India. Chile had only come up in the last year. “I’d like to see those numbers.”

  Sean’s hand curled around the margarita he’d been nursing for an hour. He noticed that Grace had finished her raspberry swirl, but politely declined a second. Wright began to extol the virtues of cheap South American labor, and Sean allowed himself a moment to ponder the problem of Grace.

  He wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her. He didn’t see why he should bother. It was clear to him that she wasn’t the boss’s mistress. She behaved much more like his long-suffering wife than a mistress. Wright might depend on the lovely widow, but he wasn’t sleeping with her. He was almost sure of it. Sean had detected the slightest hint of jealously from Wright when he’d led Grace to the elevator. It had been little more than a flaring of his eyes when Matt noticed the courtly way Sean was leading her. It was gone by the time they reached the lobby. Ever since, Wright had called her babe several times and taken the seat beside her in the booth as though it was his right, but he didn’t touch her. Sean had been happy to slide into the booth across from the object of his study. It gave him the chance to really observe her.

  He had many questions for Grace, but they would have to wait until he had her in a much more intimate setting. He would give it a day, and then invite her to dinner with him tomorrow. He’d watched the pleasure she’d taken in her food and the sweet drink she’d o
rdered. She’d savored every morsel. Her eyes had roamed the large platter of decadent desserts, but finally she’d said no. It was clear to Sean that she hadn’t wanted to say no. She was most likely giving in to the pressures of social constraints. She probably thought she needed to diet.

  If they had been alone, Sean would have ordered the chocolate cake and fed her himself. He would have convinced her that taking pleasure in the dessert would please him. He would have watched the way her tongue came out to taste the bittersweet frosting before enveloping the cake in her mouth. Then he would kiss her, long and slow, the sweetness transferring from her mouth to his.

  Better yet, he would simply cook everything for her, each course another level of his seduction.

  He answered Wright when the man seemed to require Sean’s participation, but his eyes rarely left Grace. He would be good for her. She was very lonely. She needed someone to shake her up a little. Sean would be good to her in and out of bed. When the time came, he would gracefully leave her. He would keep it light and fun. She wouldn’t regret sleeping with him.

  Grace smiled at him as the waiter took the check. Sean couldn’t help the little hitch in his breath.

  It was almost four when he helped Grace up from her seat. Matt stumbled a little. They made it to the car and stuffed Matt in the back. Grace tried to get in with him, but Sean held the passenger door open. After the barest of hesitation, she slid in, and he shut the door.

  “I guess I’ll drive him home.” She looked out the window as they drove back toward downtown from the Stockyards.

  “You could leave him in the lobby.” It was an eminently logical solution to Sean’s mind. Matt Wright had been all business at the start of the meal, but he’d ordered drink after drink. It was completely unprofessional.

  “I’d just have to deal with him in the morning.” She sighed, and he sensed a deep tiredness in her. She turned her hazel eyes on him. “He’s a good man.”

  Sean doubted that. “I’m sure he is. Is he a good boss?”

  Now there was no hesitation. “He’s a great boss. He was the only one willing to take a chance on me. My husband died a few years back. I hadn’t had a job the whole time we were married. The insurance paid for a lot, but I still needed to go to work. Matt was my thirty-first interview.”

  “That must have been a relief.” It explained her loyalty to the idiot.

  “You have no idea.” She glanced into the backseat. Matt’s head was back. “He can’t handle his liquor. It’s the bane of my existence. I keep hoping he’ll get married, and his wife can deal with him when he’s drunk.”

  “Just give me his address, and I’ll make sure he gets home.” It would serve a dual purpose. He could help out Grace and potentially search the bastard’s house.

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, I’ll do it. I appreciate the offer, but it’s my responsibility. Maybe next time, don’t let him keep ordering drinks. We could have moved the meeting back to the office two hours ago.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “I promise to give that great consideration. I have to say, though, that it tends to slide the scale in my favor.”

  “Not really. He never signs anything until he’s sober. Trust me, I’ve been around him long enough to know not to ask him for a raise after a couple of martinis.”

  Sean pulled the borrowed Benz into the parking lot. He found a space a row over from Grace’s little Honda hybrid. Of course, he didn’t let her know he knew which one she owned. She pointed out her car and started herding Matt toward it.

  “You won’t regret working with us.” Matt’s words were firm even as he wobbled on his feet a bit. He leaned heavily into Grace, his arm winding around her waist. “You’re so good to me, Gracie. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Matt slumped forward into her passenger seat. Grace closed the door, and a wan smile crossed her lips. “He really is a good man. Don’t let this affect your opinion of him. He’s alone in the world. He lost his parents and then his brother.”

  Sean allowed his eyes to go soft and sympathetic. So Matt had told her his brother was dead? “Really? He’s young to have lost a brother.”

  “His brother was the only family he had left, and from what I can tell, they weren’t very close. Matt told me his brother, Patrick, travelled a lot. He was killed in Europe. Anyway, it affected Matt.” Grace opened her trunk and placed her briefcase inside. She slammed it shut and awkwardly put her hand out. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for lunch and everything.”

  A thousand questions perched on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to play it cool. He would only lose her if he pushed her too fast. He took her hand in between both of his. He stood very close so she had to look up. “I enjoyed it, Grace.”

  Her voice was a little bit breathless as she stared up at him. It wasn’t anything like the sure, flirty voice she’d been using before. “I did, too. And I’ll get those numbers ready for you. Anything you need, just give me a call.”

  “I promise.” He intended to call her a lot.

  Sean let go of her hand. She started to walk around him to enter her car when a motorcycle roared through the parking lot. It came out of nowhere, a bullet on a path to destruction. The loud rev of the engine blasted through the quiet late afternoon. The scene played out in his mind like a little movie. The motorcycle was on a direct, unwavering path. It would hit Grace, and her body would strike the concrete at an alarming rate. Listening only to his instincts, Sean launched himself at Grace, placing them in a roll that threw them into the car parked beside her Honda. Grace didn’t fight him. Her arms wound around his chest. She was soft and compliant against him. It made it very easy to maneuver her the way he wanted to go. He twisted as hard as he could so his back took the brunt of the impact.

  The motorcycle sped off without stopping, an angry insect pissed off that it hadn’t stung someone.

  Sean turned to try to get the license plate number, but Grace’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Her hands were on his chest, her fingers like little butterflies caressing him through his shirt.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Everything inside him stilled at that one word. Sir. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t the kind moniker one placed on a stranger. This “Sir” was breathy and held a singular promise. It was the habit of a submissive to honor her dominant partner. Every ounce of blood in Sean’s body rushed straight to his cock.

  Grace laughed. It seemed to break the spell. “What a jerk. He didn’t even stop to see if we were okay. Thanks again.” Grace pulled out of his arms before Sean could protest. Her alabaster skin was flushed a vibrant red as she quickly got into the Honda and pulled out of the space.

  Sean was left with an aching hard-on and the knowledge that the next few weeks were going to be anything but dull.

  Chapter Three

  Three hours later, Sean slid into a booth at the back of the dive bar where he was set to meet Adam and Jake. He selected a booth at the back corner that gave him a view of the room. Brewski’s was just the kind of crap bar one would expect in the suburbs, but then he wanted to drive by Grace Hawthorne’s house later tonight. He’d already driven past Matthew Wright’s. It always paid to know the lay of the land.

  He thanked the waitress who brought him a longneck. He didn’t dare order a Scotch. He doubted what they would bring him here would even vaguely resemble Scotch, though he passed a glance over the menu. He wondered what Grace was doing. He wondered who Grace was doing and if she’d had her gorgeous body tied up while they were doing it.

  He didn’t like the jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Grace was a sub. He knew it. She was someone’s submissive. He doubted it was Wright. The man wasn’t a Dom. Sean fully intended to find out who owned Grace’s loyalty. It couldn’t possibly be too serious. She didn’t wear a collar, not even a small necklace to signify that she belonged to someone. No Dom worth his whip would let a sweet subbie like Grace walk around completely uncollared.

  The door opened and J
ake and Adam walked in, their entrance punctuated with a blast of wretchedly hot air. The September night hadn’t cooled off a bit.

  But then neither had Sean.

  Adam immediately walked to the bar and started to flirt with the woman there. Jacob Dean’s razor-focused stare found Sean. He moved through the crowded bar with the grace of a predator. Those dark eyes scanned the bar for any potential threats before he slid into the booth. Sean was surprised at how nice it was to see his former army buddies. They had been on assignment and out of the office for much of the last year.

  “Hey, Sarge. Good to see you again. I sent our report directly to your e-mail, coded, of course, sir.” Despite the fact that they had left the Green Berets years before, Jake had never gotten out of the habit of deferring to him. Sean had been Jake’s warrant officer in their Special Forces team. Jake had been the intelligence and operations officer, while Adam had been the sergeant in charge of communications. “How did the meeting with Wright go?”

  Adam Miles had two beers in his hand when he sat down beside Jake. He handed one to his partner and took a long swallow of the other. Adam was a different story. He had never shown much respect in the first place. He certainly didn’t bother to now. “Who gives a fuck about Wright? Tell me how the meeting with our luscious little Grace went.”

  The longneck hit the table with more force than Sean meant to use. “Don’t play your games with Grace.” The thought of Grace with Jake and Adam made his hand itch to beat the shit out of his two closest friends. “She better think you’re gay.”

  Jake laughed. “Oh, she does. But then they usually do.”

  “Right up to the point they find themselves in between us, howling as we show them the pleasures of double penetration.” Adam held up his beer in a mock toast. His lips spread in a decadent grin. “You would be surprised how well the gay thing works, man. Women open up when they think you’re gay. They fall a little in love. Sure enough, the next thing we hear is something about how she wishes we weren’t gay and bam, wish fulfilled.”