by Logan Chance
My orgasm is close, but I push her away. Not ready to deal with her just yet. This feels too good, and I don’t want it to end.
Knowing the awkward that will follow is too much for me to handle. So, I let the ecstasy build and build. I let his fingers trail down my body again, unzipping my dress. Right now, I'm the bad girl he wants, and it’s making me feel ten times sexier than I have ever felt before.
A hundred times sexier. He’s all alpha and dominance, and it turns me on.
“You’re so wet. All for me.” He pushes deeper inside me.
“All for you,” I say, grinding my ass against his hard waist.
This is anything but sex. No, it’s a pure fuckfest. Hot breaths, loud moans. Slapping skin and sweat mixed together in an undeniable law of attraction. A primal joining of two people who want nothing more than to reach that level of highness with each other.
No feelings will linger. No questions of tomorrow. He lets me know what this is with each slap of my ass and with each tug of my hair.
He fucks me with no gentleness. And it’s ok with me.
I don't want hearts and flowers.
Not at all.
My body climbs and climbs, and I see sunbursts behind my lids and I ride out the best orgasm of my life while he shudders with his own.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Fuck, indeed. It certainly was a fucking of high fucking. One complete with awards and grand trophies. And when it’s all over, and we are a pile of panting, sweaty bodies, all I want...no, all I can think about, is when can we do it again?
“Can I drop you by your place?” he calls out as I stand in the bathroom, trying to smooth down my hair, trying to make sense of what I'm doing.
“No,” I say through the door, “I’m meeting my brother in Murray Hill for lunch.”
I need my older brother now more than ever. Maybe his level head can help me see clearly in this tangled mess.
Tangled because, I barely know Pollux, and this is starting to become more than a business arrangement for me. He makes me laugh and smile, which I haven't done for a very long time. And my god, the sex. I'm beginning to like being around him. Which is not ok. Neither is this evening gown I'm wearing. I’ll need to swing by my place before I meet Houston. Can’t very well wear a ballgown to lunch. Maybe I'll just wear this shroud of regret that has set in.
“I’m going to call my driver. I’m sorry about last night. I have a little problem with champagne,” I apologize, stepping into the hall where he waits, leaning against the wall.
He pushes off and moves closer. “Are you feeling ok?”
“Yeah, our early morning workout did wonders.” I giggle, like a schoolgirl. What is wrong with me? I need to get my emotions in check.
This is business. I'm a business woman.
“You should check out what I can do in the afternoon.” He smiles, and it ignites flames low in my core.
I head down the stairs with him trailing behind me. I should be fired from hiring fake fiancés of the world. I should have hired someone with whom I have no sexual chemistry. Maybe that’s all this is. Sexual chemistry. My mind is clouded by phenomenal sex, and once I can get away from him for long enough, I’ll get over the need for him.
Breathe, Katy. In and Out. That’s the key.
Spotting my clutch from last night on the counter, I fish out my phone and dial my car service.
He crosses his arms, watching me.
When I hang up the phone, I whisper, “I’ll see you soon. I’m going to wait downstairs for my driver.”
My walk of shame out of this sex den is hasty, but I falter momentarily at his parting words,
“You’re going to be begging for more. I can promise you that.”
Let's hope he's not a man of his word.
I spot Houston, still in scrubs, sitting at a table in Delia’s Diner. This is our favorite spot; we’ve been coming here for years. So much, they know us. I swing open the door, a wide smile on my face. No matter my mood, being around Houston makes it ten times better. He’s a great older brother and has been through more than I could ever bear. Losing a child nearly destroyed him. I don’t like to think about that dark time in our lives. Getting the call my nephew was involved in a car accident—the devastation that followed. I’ll never forget those first months, when Houston and his ex-wife, Jennifer, wouldn’t even leave their house.
“Hey there.” He pulls me in for a hug, and then we take a seat. “I ordered for you,” he says, nodding to my macchiato.
“On break?” I ask, pointing to his clothing.
“Just getting off work. Marley and I have plans tonight.” His eyes soften when he mentions her name.
Marley is a former student of Houston’s when he was a professor at NYU. I love her as much as he does. She was the first person to get Houston to smile again after his son, Nathan, died.
“Oh, what do the two of you have planned?”
“Nothing too big. Dinner. Maybe a movie. Marley’s been working non-stop on her degree. I feel she needs a break to unwind a little.”
“How are things with the two of you?” I ask.
“Better than ever. I never thought I could ever be so lucky. After Nathan died I didn’t think I deserved it. But with her, she makes me breathe again.” I get that, because, now that I think about it, that's the way Pollux has been making me feel. I wonder what he would think of Pollux?
“I’m so glad you’re happy,” I tell him.
He studies me with his dark eyes. “What’s wrong, Katy?”
I launch into my story, confiding everything, but leaving out the sordid details of all things sexual.
“You hired him to be your what?” he asks, eyeing me carefully as he takes a gulp of his black coffee.
“You know the board has the mindset of the 18th century. I think if I had a fiancé the people at the firm would take me more seriously. Once I make partner, I'm going to abolish their sexist slavery.”
He sets his cup down and leans in. “You like him, don’t you?”
I shift in my seat. “No.” I’m not convincing. He can always see through my lies. And right now, is no different.
He cocks a brow. “Katy?”
My name lingers in the air. Do I like him? Isn't it too early for like? There's a niggle happening of wanting to know things about him. But I'm sure that's the sex confusing me.
“He's exciting, I guess,” I finally tell him. “But, I need this partnership more. I worked so damn hard for it.”
“I know. Live a little, you deserve it. Life is short.” His eyes sadden.
I stare at him a moment and shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”
We continue talking about our mom and dad, and more about Marley and her work. After another coffee, and the sun sets, I tell him I need to get going.
“You have that hot date to get to,” I remind him as he helps me slip on my coat.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me know how everything goes.”
I give him a big hug. “I will.”
Is Houston right? Should I live a little? I can't remember the last time I was focused on anything other than work or making partner.
I text Pollux, giving him my address to come see me. Time to start living.
He sits in the lobby when I enter my building, and butterflies rush through me.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
He stands. “Hey, darling.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really? What have I said about cutesy nicknames?”
He takes my hand in his, showing off his naughty grin. “Come on, you love it. So, have you missed me? Maybe you texted for that afternoon train ride.”
I slap his arm. “There’s no train station anywhere around here.”
He steps closer. “I see a train station right here,” he glances down, “and I’m sure the train is ready to pull in.”
I step back. “Ok, seriously, if you mention a train one more time, I’ll end this deal.”
He laughs, throwing his
hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I concede. Truth is, I had an idea.”
“Follow me.” I turn toward the elevator, crooking my finger at him.
Chapter 8
Pollux
I step foot into her swanky apartment, and let out a low whistle. It’s large and open, tans and beiges decorate the space with splashes of bright color. “Nice place. Is there anything not designer in here?”
“The artwork,” she says, pointing to a huge canvas over her mantle.
Splatters of reds, blues, and purples swirl together high on the piece and drip off to the bottom of the frame. I walk closer and study it. It reminds me of tears. “It’s nice.”
“You don’t like it?”
I shrug. “I think it's a very moving piece. It’s got a great melancholy feel to it.”
She moves beside me to take in the art. “I don’t think so. I think it’s a new day, washing away mistakes of the past.”
“I like that.”
Her eyes meet mine and a moment is shared between us.
She points to the couch, and I take a seat. “Lots of mistakes hidden in your past?”
I lean back. “Baby, you have no idea.”
I’m not getting into my past with her—not now, not ever.
A lifetime of good breeding keeps her from pursuing it. She wants to, though. I see it in the way she chews her lip. Her sense of good manners wins out. “So, this idea?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Ah, yes.”
She offers me a drink and a few minutes later hands me a tumbler of bourbon and settles back into the couch.
“You want to make partner, obviously. Who else are they considering?”
“Carter Davis.”
I rub the scruff on my jaw, thinking.
“Carter. Carter….ah, the bumbling idiot?”
She laughs. It’s cute. “Yes, that’s him. He’s wicked smart, but he doesn’t do well meeting new people.”
“You need to learn your opposition. Who you’re fighting against.”
She crosses her legs. It’s sexy. “What do you mean?” Her doe-eyed expression catches me off guard.
Is she really this naive?
“Princess, this is business. You need to play the game. Be ruthless. I know you have it in you,” I say.
She hmm’s. It’s fucking hot. Those ruby-reds have me imagining wicked things.
I take a deep breath.
“Well, I thought I already was being manipulative. I mean, I hired you to be my fiancé, which I’m not sure why you accepted.”
“I have my reasons.”
Her brows raise. “Care to share?”
“No.” I smirk.
She studies me for a beat too long.
Why am I helping this woman? I’m thinking with my dick. And usually that leads to trouble. But, no, not this time. No, feelings are vaulted away. She won't break me.
“Well, whatever your reasoning, it works for me,” she says, tucking a leg under her. “I want this partnership.”
“Why?” Now it’s my turn to study her. “Why go to all this trouble?”
She takes a deep breath, long lashed eyes glancing upward then back at me. “I know it sounds cliche, but I want to show people I can do things on my own.”
I crack a smile. “Then I guess you don’t need me,” I start to rise from the couch, “I’ll just get going.”
“No.” She smiles, placing a hand on my thigh. Her touch sears through my jeans. “Ok, maybe not entirely on my own.”
“I think you’re intelligent. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” I’ll probably keep her if I decide to buy this company. She’s a go-getter.
“Thanks,” she hesitates. “Can I ask how you got the scar?” She points her finger to the scar above my eye.
Here we go. “Ever seen a bottle of 1800 tequila? Or as I say to-kill-ya.”
“Sure.”
“Well, this is what you get when you have one smashed over your head.” I rub at the gash that took five stitches to close over my eyebrow.
“Ouch, what happened?”
Something in her curious eyes makes me want to confess things. Instead, I shrug. “Got into a fight. Nothing serious.”
I tug at my tie and yank the constricting thing off. Is it hot in here? Does she have the heat on full blast?
“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine.” It's not, really. But what do you say when you have a mark from something you'd rather not discuss? People are curious, they're going to ask whether you want them to or not. I stare at the amber liquid in my glass and toss it back, drowning memories that refuse to die.
“Are you ok?” she asks.
I light up with a smile. Pretending I'm not phased by my past. “I'm great.”
We're both silent for a few minutes, and the painting above the mantle pulls my eyes to it’s vivid colors. It really is a unique piece.
“Pollux?”
Our eyes meet. “Yeah?”
“About our deal,” I set my glass on the coffee table, and she hesitates before continuing, “I really need to focus on the business side of things.”
“What about it?”
“The sex,” she blurts out and my eyes travel down to her hardened nipples.
“You want it right now, don’t you? Admit it, you can’t stop thinking about me.”
Her eyes shoot to mine. “Asshole. You’re hard to deal with.”
She's full of shit. “It’s very hard—pun intended—dealing with you too.”
Trying to get this girl out of my system is a task all on its own. I lean back, my legs spreading slightly.
Her eyes watch the movement, and I adjust my dick.
“You want it?” I say on a groan, my dick getting harder by the second.
She shifts on the couch. “Well no, I don’t.”
Yeah, and that's why her breathing is suddenly faint gasps of air as if she can’t catch a breath. I run my hand over my cock again. “Liar.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Pollux, the things you say to me. You’re so bad.” She runs her hand along her neck. The spot I choked not only hours ago.
“Bad, huh? I remember you moaning how good it was not too long ago.” I raise a brow, moving closer.
She sits straighter, and I wonder how wet her sweet pussy is. Am I making her as wet as she makes me hard?
“Well...I...uh...” She tries to scoot away, but I only move in closer. She's so hard to resist. Those red lips. So, full and firm. So, plump and pure. Lips I’ve imagined wrapped around me since I first laid eyes on them.
And then a naughty Katy is unleashed. She grabs my shirt and pulls me into her, crushing her mouth to mine. So much for business. She moans into me, and I swallow it down. Every bit. Everything fades away, until I can’t see anything but the flashing neon warning light of what’s to come.
She purrs and I growl. Like a wild zoo of animal bliss with hot heat and beating hearts. My hands fly into her hair.
I’ve never wanted a girl a second time. Or a third or a fourth. But with her, I can’t seem to stop. She’s the golden elixir, straight from the fountain.
“Are you afraid of me?” I ask after breaking the kiss.
She nods, shyly. Super sweet. And her eyes reflect a vulnerability I can’t ignore.
“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” I ask.
Her tongue darts along her lower lip, and I lower my head to bite at it, nibbling down.
She grips my shoulders, her pussy pressing against my cock. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” she finally answers.
I raise my head, searching her eyes for the truth. “You sure about that?”
“No.” Her pupils dilate, black nearly encompassing the blue. Her breathing hitches. And it’s a fucking miracle to watch. I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.
She’s afraid of me? Oh, I’ll make her damn near terrified. I’ll make it so she never questions me again. Because the truth is, I wouldn’t hurt her.
And it isn’t until this moment I know without a shadow of a motherfucking doubt, I won’t. And then I see maybe, somehow, she might want me to. Katy is kinky underneath her carefully crafted business persona. Just like me.
I yank her hair, sucking her neck between my lips. “Katy, what do you want?” I groan against her soft skin.
“Take me like the bad man you are.”
Fuck me and all this woman offers. She doesn’t need to ask twice.
To say I’m turned on is an understatement. I’m a volcano of desire, ready to erupt, if I don’t plant myself far inside her.
“So, you like it rough?” I need to make sure she’s on the same page as me. I’ll never force a woman into something they don't want.
She blushes. “Well, this all new to me. But, I like losing control. I like giving it to you. The rougher the better.”
I yank her hair, until she’s off the couch and on her knees. “Stay there. Head down,” I instruct her.
I lose my shoes and rip off my belt. I crack it in my hands, and her body jumps.
I run my hand across her cheek.
She lifts her head, eyes trained on me.
“Keep your head down. Don’t look at me unless I let you,” I say. “If you want to stop, say Ford. It’ll be the safe word.”
“Like the car?”
I smile. “Yes, baby. Like the car.”
She does as told, and my cock hardens to see her submit. I circle around her, rubbing the black leather against her cheek. The thought this is something unique and out of her element turns me on more than I’ve ever been.
Like the way she makes me feel when I’m pretending to be her fiancé. I’ve never been engaged. That isn’t my life. But this is. Making her get off and see stars is something I can do. Every fucking day.
I crack the belt again like a whip. But this time she doesn’t jerk or jump. This time she keeps her head down.
Good girl. Naughty girl. My girl.
And only for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll go back to business, maybe even stop the sex. It's for the best. But tonight, I’m going to fuck her senseless. I’m going to control every movement. Every orgasm. Every fucking thing.
I drop my pants to the floor, boxers too, and fist my cock, pumping slowly.