by Vivian Wood
Smith was used to living two separate lives in one, having done so for years out of necessity to keep his father out of his personal affairs, but it was bizarre for him to have somebody else playing this tedious game with him. To her credit, Cameron was as good as him when it came to maintaining outward appearances; annoyingly good, if he was being honest.
The truth was, Smith was anxious to talk about what was going on between them, but he wasn’t sure of how to go about bringing it up to her, or if she would even be willing to talk about it if he somehow did manage to broach the subject. After she left him high and dry in that alleyway last Saturday night, Smith didn’t know how she’d react to anything anymore.
“What’s wrong?”
Smith was startled from his ruminations about her, as he glanced over to see Cameron looking at him, her forehead puckered with lines of worry.
“What?” Smith asked, confused by her question.
“You were making a face like--” Cameron squinted her eyes and turned down the corners of her mouth as she jutted her chin out.
Smith laughed at her ridiculous imitation of him. “I was not.”
“Oh yes, you were.”
“I have never made a face like that in my life,” he scoffed, shaking his head.
“Well, that’s the face you were just making, so…” Cameron shrugged, but she didn’t let the subject drop as she studied his face. “You looked like you were, I don’t know, conflicted about something.”
“I was just thinking about how miserable it’s going to be to have to spend the next forty-eight hours or so trapped in the house with my father,” Smith covered smoothly.
It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. To say he wasn’t looking forward to it was a severe understatement.
“Oh,” Cameron said, seemingly mollified by his answer as she relaxed back in her seat.
Only to sit forward again suddenly as they crested a final hill, and she saw the entirety of the Calloway estate stretched out before them for the first time.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “That’s your freaking house?”
“No, that’s my father’s house,” he corrected her, before drawing his brows together in contemplation. “Well, it’s one of them anyway. This is the one he christened the family estate, though, so... well, you get the idea.”
“I’m not so sure that I do, Mr. Silver Spoon,” she said, rolling her eyes before returning back to gawking out the window. “I’ve never seen a house this big in person before, let alone stayed inside one.”
“Well, it’s just like staying in any other house, only far more uncomfortable.”
“I don’t know,” Cameron said as he pulled the car around the circle drive, stopping to park in front of the house. “I think you might be biased.”
“You may be right on that account,” Smith sighed as he cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition.
He looked up at the house as he got out of the car. It was an old Victorian mansion made of brick, magnificently gabled and set amongst the trees. It was three stories high, with fifteen bedrooms. He wrinkled his nose briefly, then went to the trunk to get their bags.
“Well, we’re here,” he mused. “Might as well get some relaxation out of it.”
He carried the bags to the porch, Cameron trailing behind him with wide eyes. He considered the ornately carved front door for a moment before reaching out and ringing the bell.
The door opened. Smith squinted. The tuxedoed man behind the door was unfamiliar to him, but that wasn’t unusual with his father’s employees.
“Mr. Calloway,” the butler said in an Irish brogue, bowing. “I am McDonnell. Please come in. Leave your things where they are, and I will have the lads take them up.”
Smith dropped the suitcases, nodding to McDonnell. He looked at Cameron, who hovered behind him.
“You want to freshen up?” he asked.
She nodded, apparently silenced by the size of the house.
“Which rooms are we in?” he asked the butler.
“In your customary room, sir, and your guest will be across the hall. Mrs. Cassin will escort you, ma’am,” O’Donnell said. Another servant materialized and led Cam off to her room. Smith stood awkwardly for a moment in the foyer before O’Donnell spoke again.
“I will have your bags brought to your room. Do you require anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you, but do you know where my father is?”
“In his study, sir,” the butler replied.
Smith strode away toward the study. He paused outside the study entrance for a moment to admire the intricately carved mahogany doors. He could hear his father on the phone inside the study, saying something about taxes. Smith looked around the hallway, then put his ear a little closer to the door.
“...if we move operations to Ireland, we could save millions,” he was saying.
Smith felt numb. He’d never even heard his father mention the possibility of moving operations overseas. How much is he hiding from me? Growing angry, Smith jerked open the door without knocking and glared at his father.
Spencer sat up, startled. “Oh, it’s you, Smith. Come on.” He motioned at his son to take a seat. Instead, Smith walked over to the desk and plucked the phone from his father’s hands.
“He’ll have to call you back,” he said into it, then hung up.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Spencer angrily demanded.
Smith ignored this. “Ireland? How long have you been planning this behind my back?”
Spencer sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic!” He took a deep sip from a crystal glass on his desk. Smith couldn’t be sure if the clear liquid inside was water or vodka, but he was betting the latter.
“Look,” his father continued, “the company could save a lot in taxes by moving to Ireland.”
“Sure,” Smith shot back, “so long as your plan is to not pay taxes to begin with once you’re there. Also? I’m supposed to be running this company with you, Father, not walking in on closed-door deals by chance.”
Spencer took another deep draw from the tumbler and grinned at his son. “Don’t worry so much, boy! You can keep your sexecutive assistant when we move. I’ll even help you set her up with a little love nest so you can fuck her in your off hours, ha! Come on, drink with me and we’ll talk about it.”
Smith clenched his fists until his fingernails were digging into his palms. He was about to tell his father off when a small chime went off, indicating dinner was in thirty minutes. He forced a smile. “Regretfully, father, I must change for dinner.”
Spencer waved him off. “Another time. Oh! I had O’Donnell put your room right across from hers…”
Smith left the study before his father could say any more. As he stalked to his room, he ran across the housekeeper, who was carrying a long garment bag to Cameron’s room. The housekeeper avoided his gaze as she knocked on Cam’s door.
I wonder if every servant here thinks that I fuck my employees just like my father? And damn them, they’re not wrong.
Smith’s father had a way of bringing the absolute worst out in his son. He slammed the door to his room angrily and changed into his tux.
Precisely twenty-five minutes later, Smith walked into the formal dining room. His tuxedo was perfectly tailored and without a speck of lint. Smith resembled a panther, all muscle and tension beneath a polished exterior. He nodded to his father, who was already seated, and poured himself a drink from the sideboard before sitting.
Cam walked in, Smith tried not to stare. She was wearing an emerald silk dress that, while technically modest, hugged her curves perfectly. No bra. Strappy black heels. Her thick red hair was swept up off her neck.
“It took me forever to find this room. This house is huge!” Cam exclaimed.
Smith nodded carelessly at her.
Spencer smirked. “Well, we’re certainly happy you made it, sweetheart. O’Donnell, we will have our dinner now.”
; At his word, a cluster of servants streamed into the room. One came out with a silver ewer of hot water, which she poured into small finger bowls by each person. Another servant silently poured a chilled white Burgundy, and yet another served the soup course from a steaming tureen.
Smith stared at the servant pouring the wine. He recognized her with a start; she was the P.I. he’d hired to look into the company’s finances.
He took a deep sip of wine. Did his father know his suspicions? Worse, had he hired the P.I. out from under him? Shit.
The servants disappeared without a word. The men began to eat, but Cam felt her appetite fading; she was beginning to feel self-conscious.
Smith noticed. “Something wrong?”
“I’m not used to all of this,” she replied.
For the first time, Smith cracked a smile. “Try the wine. It’s how the upper class tolerates all of this, right, Dad?”
Spencer raised his glass in a mock toast to his son. For the first time, Cam could see the resemblance between the two men. They were both powerfully built, tall men with blue eyes and good smiles. The father’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.
Cam took his advice and took a deep sip of the wine, chewing it on her palate, then swirling it around her tongue to better taste.
“My god,” she said happily, “this wine is incredible!”
Smith forced his eyes away from her lush mouth.
His father smiled again. “I’m glad you approve. So, Miss Cameron... tomorrow morning the board arrives, but right now we have a little time to relax. Tell us about yourself. Where are you from? Who do you do?”
Smith clenched his jaw. Had Cam noticed that remark? Apparently not. She was still savoring the wine.
Cam rattled off a few sentences drawn from her fake résumé. She hadn’t missed the tension between father and son, or the father’s remarks. But she knew better than to lose her cool. Instead, she played dumb, giggling at Spencer’s bawdy jokes and complimenting each dish that came out of the kitchen.
What if you knew that I was not only fucking your son, but investigating your shady company, you creepy old man? Cam smiled at her thoughts.
Meanwhile, Smith was on edge. His father’s constant innuendo and Cameron’s simpering replies were driving him crazy. Every time he tried to calm down, the P.I. came out to serve a new wine.
By the end of the dinner, Smith’s nerves were shot. When Cameron excused herself to go to bed, he stood up so quickly that his chair flew back two feet. She gave him an inscrutable look, held it for a second too long, and then left in a flash of green silk.
Smith got up without a word to his father and walked out of the dining room. He decided to go into the library for a while. Read. Have a few drinks. He’d barely touched the wine at dinner.
In the library, though, he couldn’t focus on his book or his drink. Instead, he kept thinking about the look Cam had given him before she’d left the formal dining room. He poured himself a second drink, then slammed it down.
Fuck it. I’m going to her. Find out exactly what that look meant.
Outside her door, Smith paused. Maybe he should just go to bed? But the entire night had been so frustrating, he was so tightly wound. He really just... had to see her.
And after all, he was her boss. He had a right to talk to his employee. This wasn’t a damn vacation.
With that justification, Smith tried the door. It was unlocked. He walked in.
There was a squeal from the bed and a flash of covers, but Cam hadn’t moved quickly enough.
She had been lying on the bed, stark naked, touching herself.
Well. Now he knew what the look meant.
15
Fuck. What the hell had he just walked in on? She pulled the covers up, but he’d seen enough to know that she’d been touching herself.
He was instantly hard as nails, his cock jumping beneath his trousers. Her flushed face was guilty, but seeing her like this made it impossible to back out of the room.
“What am I supposed to do with you now, hmm?” Smith said, looking at her sprawled on the bed. “Report you to HR?”
Cam gasped, pulling up the covers further. “Get out!”
“Oh, I don’t think so, darling,” he said, closing the door behind him. He untied his bow tie, moving toward her slowly.
“I swear, I’ll scream,” she threatened shakily.
“Scream all you bloody like,” he said, stopping to toe off his shoes. “We’re the only ones staying in this wing. No one will hear you up here. And anyway, why lie? I want you as much as you want me. I was thinking about this all during dinner.”
She stared as he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. Smith smiled, thinking that she was about to make a hell of a lot more noise, because he planned to play her like a violin.
“Tell me, darling,” he said, pausing by the side of the bed. “Tell me you want me.”
She flushed. He knew that his face had been in her mind during her little self-love session. He reached out, slowly pulling the covers down to reveal her naked body. She was utterly perfect, her gorgeous teardrop breasts and luscious thighs calling to him.
“God, you are so perfect,” he said, looking up at her. “You know that, I hope.”
“Smith…” she whispered. “We can’t.”
“Touch yourself again,” he said, letting his gaze wander down her body. “Let me see.”
She seemed hesitant, but brought both of her hands up to touch her breasts, rolling and pinching her nipples. He watched her eyes flutter shut, as she pulled her nipples, tweaking them hard.
His breathing grew uneven as he realized that she liked a little pain with her pleasure, just as he did. He thought of that first night in her apartment, how he’d wanted to spank her, to tie her down.
It wouldn’t have worked then, but here… they weren’t strangers, and they had all night. Plenty of time for whatever they desired.
“Move your hand lower,” he commanded. “Touch your pussy, like you were when I came in.”
Her eyes opened, their blue hue hot enough to melt steel. She frowned, but she pushed the comforter out of the way. Spreading her thighs, she sighed softly as her fingers found their way to her clit.
Her sighs of pleasure were heavenly, yet at the same time they weren’t enough. Not when she was this close, and this naked. He needed to touch her, to be touched by her.
He unbuttoned his shirt, then unzipped his trousers. When he came around to the end of the bed, she surprised him by stopping and sitting up.
“Darling—”
She dragged him down to the bed, kissing him with plenty of tongue. He enjoyed it for a moment before he took control of things. He grabbed her by the hips and swapped their positions, so that he was on top.
He skimmed his hands up her sides, taking her in. She tried to reach up, to pull him down to her mouth for a kiss, but he grabbed her hands. He lifted them over her head and pressed them into the bed.
“Keep them here,” he said, looking into her eyes. She bit her lip, nodding.
He moved down to her tits. They looked mouthwatering, perfect pale orbs with bright pink nipples. He tongued one pert tip, holding back a groan with effort. She gasped, writhing. Fuck, she tasted so good.
He released her nipple, continuing to move down her body, over her belly and to the top of her pubic mound. She tried to close her legs, but he caught them.
“Let me,” he ordered. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good.”
“Wait!” she said. “What if… what if you go first? Show me how to make you feel good.”
His cock twitched. He hated himself for it, but now he couldn’t get the image of her going down on him out of his head. The thought of her luscious mouth wrapped around his cock stirred something deep within him.
He pushed himself up, and then took off his shirt. She watched him with wide eyes, taking in his musculature. He stood up, stripping his pants off, leaving him totally nude.
The fact that her eyes widened at the sight of him like this made him smirk, just a little.
“You want to know how to please me?” he said, grasping his cock.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
“Suck my cock,” he said. “Suck it like you mean it.”
She sat up on the bed and scooted down to the end, kissing his stomach. She gripped his back, her nails biting into his skin as she kissed lower.
He moved back a step as she slid to the floor, her mouth leaving a hot trail down his body. She kissed the thick V of muscle at his hips, then grasped his cock and gave it an experimental pump.
He gritted his teeth and let out a low hiss. She paused, looking up at him. She was perfect like that, a beautiful redheaded angel on her knees.
“Keep going,” he urged, tangling his hand in her hair and wrapping it around his fist.
Painstakingly slowly, she tongued the very tip of his cock. He moaned at the sensation, her tongue like hot velvet again his sensitive skin. She shifted and opened her mouth. He sighed as he sankinto her mouth, marveling at the gift she gave him, the image of her pouty pink lips swallowing his cock.
That image was now burned into his brain forever.
When she began to move, though… He had to work to keep his eyes open as she used her lips, her tongue, and her hand in unison.
“Fuck!” he said. “God damn, Cameron. It’s too good.”
She moaned, increasing her pace. God, he could cum just from this. Only he had something to prove to her. He wanted… no, needed, to give her the best orgasm of her fucking life. Better than she would’ve had here in the bed alone. Better than she’d had the first time they were together, as hot as that had been.
Biting his lip, he pulled her away. “I told you, Cameron. Your mouth is amazing, almost too good. But I want more than that tonight.”
“You talk a good game…” she said, teasing.
He chuckled. He helped her to her feet, then kissed her. She tasted musky, like his cock. He teased her tongue with his, tasting himself on her. He turned her around then pushed her onto the bed.