“Your face,” he says.
“My face?” I worriedly ask, wondering if maybe I’ve got a bad pillow line or something. “What’s wrong with my face?”
Scott recovers and steps closer. “Nothing. Your makeup is just worn off. You look beautiful.”
I turn, staring at my reflection in the black polished surface of the fridge in horror. I feel so vulnerable, so naked without my makeup, something that I’ve used as my protection for so long, a layer between me and everyone else.
Scott wraps an arm around me, turning me toward him as his eyes scan my face. I instinctively dip my chin, trying to block his view, but he lifts my face with a gentle hand on my jaw. “Don’t hide from me, Madison. Let me see you . . . all of you. You’re gorgeous.” He runs a soft finger along my cheek and then down the bridge of my nose. “You have freckles. Why would you hide them? I want to kiss each one, memorize them in every light.”
I look at him like he’s crazy, but there’s only honesty in his eyes. My voice is quiet. “Are you saying you don’t like my makeup?”
His eyes meet mine. “I’m saying that I already knew you were stunning, but you have never been more so than right now . . . barefaced, half-dressed in my shirt, with your hair a mess from my hands.”
And in his arms, his words washing over me, I have never felt more beautiful. I believe him because I feel the same way about his appearance this morning . . . mussed hair, scruffy shadow of a beard, his chest on display, even that damn tattoo. It feels like a secret view, not the suited executive everyone else gets. This Scott is just for me.
He pulls me close, and what starts as a soft, tentative good morning kiss quickly turns into a full-on tongue wrangling, Scott’s cock hardening to press against my hip as he cups my ass. “Mmm . . . you didn’t put your panties back on. I might want some dessert after breakfast, but coffee first,” he teases with a groan, letting me go and heading to the coffee maker.
“Okay, you can get the coffee started. But after that, sit your cute butt over there while I finish things up.”
It doesn’t take long to make the omelet, and I slide each half onto a plate and divvy up the bacon. “Breakfast is served, sir.”
Scott chuckles, but we’re soon both too busy eating to say much, the sound of forks scraping on plates dominating the space for the next few minutes. “Damn, you’re good,” Scott says as he chews the last bit of his bacon. “And why are you slinging beers instead of food?”
“Better pay,” I quip, making him nod. “You liked it, I take it?”
“Best omelet I’ve ever had,” Scott says honestly. He takes my hand across the table and pulls me toward him with a wink. Thinking it’s time for that dessert, I get up and move to him, sitting down in his lap to face him. He settles his hands on my thighs, and I lace my arms around his neck. “What’s your plan for today?” he asks, his thumbs tracing circles along my skin.
“Not much, some errands and I work tonight. You?” I say, distracted by the sparks he’s creating along my legs.
“Currently, I’m wishing I could stay here all day, buried inside you. But I have to go into the office today.”
“When?” my voice is breathy.
Scott chuckles low in his throat and peeks at the clock behind me as he squeezes my ass. “I have to be in the team room in less than hour. I’d say I could skip the meeting, but since I called it, I kinda need to be there. It’s about our presentation for the dinner gala.”
“I understand,” I reply, trying not to sound disappointed. I know he’s got to work, but I’m all riled up with no time on the clock. Instead, I try to focus on the rest of what he said. “I’m still nervous about going,” I admit. “I know you got me the gown and all, but I still don’t know how to act around all those important people.”
“You don’t act like anything. Just be yourself. They’ll be as charmed by you as I am. I’m going to have the most beautiful woman there on my arm, give a presentation that impresses the board and maybe even my father, seal the deal, and then fuck you in the car on the way home to celebrate.” His words are gravel, and I can hear that each piece of his plan is just as important as the rest.
“Well, I can help with some of that, at least. I do hear orgasms can clear the mind, help you focus and do better work,” I say sagely with a nod. “How important is your meeting this morning?”
Scott plays along, nodding as he grinds his thick cock against my core. “I have heard that, in fact. Think it was on the news and everything. My meeting is essential. Without it, we’ll be pounding away, and making the deadline will be so hard.”
I grin, slinking out of his lap and dropping to my knees before him. “Well, I want your meeting to be short and sweet, get right to the climax so you can get your work done.” I slip the waistband of his boxers down and his cock pops free, bobbing toward my face.
I slide my hands along his shaft, stroking him for a moment before taking him in my mouth. There’s no time for teasing, so I get right to it, moving up and down and sucking him hard as I swirl my tongue along the underside of his cock.
Scott groans, grabbing a handful of my hair and directing my pace. “Fuck, Madison. It’s gotta be fast, but fuck if I don’t want to do this all damn day.”
I still, looking up at him, and a beat later, he unclenches his eyes and looks down at me. “Fuck my face, Scott. You let me use you last night and it was amazing. It’s your turn. You’re in charge.”
He searches my face for a moment, even as I wait with my mouth wide-open and ready for him. He must see what he wants because he adjusts in the chair and slips his cock back into my mouth, slow and easy at first, which surprises me. I guess I’d expected him to just deep-throat me on the first pass. I think I kinda wanted him to do that. He presses further into my mouth, his tip touching the back of my throat, and I swallow, encouraging him.
“Fuck,” he groans and then unleashes his control. He strokes in and out of my mouth, holding my head on either side to keep me still. His thrusts get more forceful, slipping into my throat with every pass, and I moan my enjoyment, giving him permission to keep doing it. To go harder. Rougher.
Tears are streaming down my face, and vaguely, I’m glad my makeup is gone or else it’d be mascara running down, leaving tracks in my foundation. But I fucking love it, love Scott dominating me, taking me, seeing me bare-faced and full of his cock.
I watch him from below, watch the way he measures how much of his cock he’s pounding into me, taking care even as he lets loose and enjoys the feeling, the visual of his cock in my mouth.
“Maddie, I’m coming . . . fuck . . . swallow me.” He holds himself deep in my throat, shallow thrusts matching the pulses of cum I taste as he roars above me. I swallow, over and over, loving the reward as much as the act.
Scott sags, and I swipe at the corners of my mouth, wiping away the saliva along my lips.
Scott smiles down at me, his hands gentle in my hair once again as he twirls a lock around his finger. “You said you’ve done a little office work.”
I’m a little confused by the turn of topic but answer anyway, “Yeah . . . why?”
“That job offer’s still on the table because fuck if I want to leave you now.” He looks satisfied, happy, relaxed, and I did that for him. “I think I’d like ordering you around. See if we can christen my office, my desk, the elevator, and every-fucking-where else in the building.”
I laugh. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Scott grins. “Never.”
* * *
Pulling up in front of Stella’s, I feel a little strange. Tiffany wasn’t at home when I caught a cab home to get my car, and well . . . it’s been days since I’ve really seen her. We’ve texted, including her daily horoscope reading via text instead of over breakfast, but with my dates with Scott, our work schedules, and a few hours sleep here and there, I haven’t actually laid eyes on my best friend in too long.
Now I’m going back to work, and I feel strange. Good, but strange.
“Probably the lack of makeup,” I mutter, touching my face. Not that I’m barefaced, but not my usual full-face layer of foundation, concealer, contour, highlight, and bronzer. I look good without it though, I’m surprised to realize as I give myself once last glance in the visor mirror before going inside.
“Girl, where have you . . . I haven’t seen you in forever!” Tiffany says when I come in. “I thought you got kidnapped by bikers or was gettin’ anal probed by aliens! Or maybe it was Scott Danger? I—”
Tiffany stops when she sees me take off my necklace and put it in my handbag. I’ve been wearing it since he gave it to me, not only to lend a sense of reality to this time, but also to get used to the weight. That . . . and hell, it was sexy as fuck to watch it swing as Scott fucked me from behind after that stellar blow job. The quickie on the breakfast table had only taken a few strokes to make me come, the diamond sparkling in time to his cock setting my pussy on fire.
But that was around Scott’s apartment, not Stella’s. She doesn’t necessarily have to put chicken wire up around the stage when bands come to play, but I’m not gonna risk it. It’s too beautiful and means too much.
“Holy fuck,” Tiff exclaims. “A gift from Mr. Danger?”
There’s a piece of me that wants to hide it from Tiff, worried about what she’ll think of the extravagance, about what that might say about me. The other part of me wants to stand up on the bar and show it off to all of Stella’s, yelling, “Look what Scott Danger gave me! Me! Little ol’ Madison Parker!”
Knowing she won’t let this go, I slowly pull the necklace back out of its special storage bag and hold it up for her inspection.
“Well gawt-damn, honey, that is one helluva ‘thank you’ from a fine-ass man!” Seeing the uncertain look on my face, she adds steel to her voice. “Girl, have fun and let him buy you what he wants,” Tiff says, pointing at me. “Ain’t no harm in that unless there’s something else you need to share with the class?” One of the many reasons I love this girl. She’s all onboard with me getting ridiculous gifts if they’re offered, but if there’s a catch that makes me uncomfortable, she’d throw that necklace right back at Scott or use it to garrote him. All for me.
Then she stops and stares at me, horror-stricken. “You’re not going to bail, are you? Leave us peons down here in the beer drippings?”
“Of course not!” I reply, surrounding Tiff in a big hug. “You and Stella are family.”
Tiff pulls back, her face still close to mine. “Girl, I was kidding. You do you. And if you get a chance to get out, get up, you’d better fucking take it if it’s what you want. I’ll be here for you, just like always . . . happy or sad, rich or poor, good or bad. Although let’s be honest, if we’re picking, go for happy, rich, and bad.”
“Don’t you mean happy, rich, and good?” I say with a smile.
Tiff smirks. “What’s the fun in that?”
“Tiffany Donna Myers—”
Her voice picks up and she gives me a smile. “Besides, we can’t be roomies forever. The first time you walk in while I’m having a muck bang and getting screwed at the same time, you’ll be out of there.”
“Will you stop it?” I ask, and Tiffany chuckles.
“What? All that Cheez Whiz spread all over his body that I lick off and then—”
Luckily, before I can puke, Stella pokes her head in the door, looking like she’s been through a washing machine, she’s sweating so damn much. “So glad you’re here. Carl is already drunk and barely standing on his feet. Need you out there, and don’t worry about his drawer.”
“You look hot,” I comment, putting my bag in my locker. Some women would take it as a compliment, but Stella knows what I mean.
“Ugh, the blasted medicine isn’t working a lick. These hot flashes are killing me,” Stella moans.
Daryl walks in, a heavy crate over his shoulder like he’s carrying an old-fashioned eighties boombox. “What’s killing you, Momma?”
“Oh, nothing. I’ll be fine, Son,” Stella replies, wiping at her forehead. “But Carl out there getting shitfaced doesn’t help things.”
“Want me to take him out back and knock some sense into him? I’m sure I could set him straight,” Daryl offers.
Always perfectly on-time, Devin pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Not sure your fine ass is gonna set anybody straight. Rawwr,” he teases, grabbing the air in front of him like he’s grabbing ass.
Daryl laughs, flipping Devin the bird. “You wish, motherfucker.”
Devin smirks. “I’m literally not a mother fucker. Daddies maybe, but no MILFs in my history fo’ shur.”
Stella fans herself, looking embarrassed. “Boys, stop. You’re making my hot flash even worse.”
Devin busts out in one quick laugh, preening even though he’s wearing a grease-spotted apron and a bandana around his head. “I do have that effect. But I came in for a reason. Someone needs to get back to the front of the house. Carl just gave away a round to the whole bar on the house.”
Stella growls, “That boy . . . it’s coming outta his paycheck.” She stomps off, heading toward the front with steam virtually pouring off her, from the hot flash and the anger both. Daryl follows close behind, although I’m not sure if it’s to hold Stella back or to beat the shit out of his brother.
I turn back to Tiff as Devin heads back to the kitchen, the silence deafening after the revelry of having almost the whole crew in the small room. She hands me back the necklace, and I carefully store it away safely once again.
Tiff watches, smiling warmly. “You know, babe. You look great, happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Welcome back to the land of the living.” She moves a strand of hair into place and pats my cheek, letting me know she’s noticed the difference in my makeup because normally, she’d never touch my done-up face.
“Thanks, Tiff. I feel great.”
As I head out to the bar, that seed in my center takes hold, putting down big, thick roots and letting me stand tall, proud.
The glowing warmth lasts all of two seconds because as I tie my apron on, Carl approaches. “What took you so damn long, Maddie? Where the hell have you been?”
The warmth turns to hot anger. “I’m here on time. Stella said to leave your drawer. Guessing she told you the same thing when she and Daryl just had a little family meeting with ya.” The dig hits home, and I see his cheeks flush to match his red nose. Normally, I don’t push Carl and definitely try to stay out of any family drama. But tonight, I feel fierce, invincible.
I push past him, ready to tackle my shift. From behind me, I hear Carl. “You have a really nice ass for such a bitch. That’s the only reason you work here . . . as an ornament for the drinkers. Well, that and because Mama feels sorry for you.” I turn to face him, seeing the hateful sneer on his face.
His words hurt, even as I know they’re crap. I’m a damn good bartender, and while Stella has helped me a lot, she doesn’t pity me.
A tiny voice in my head whispers, You don’t need this. Stella could find another bartender and be fine. Walk right out of here, tell Scott you’ll take the job at his office, work your ass off, and learn. Hell, live in that fancy penthouse with him and have amazing sex morning, noon, and night. A girl could do worse for herself. It’d be so easy, better.
No. That’s not me. I haven’t known Scott that long . . . not really, even if it feels like a whirlwind of getting to know each other and he’s deeper in my heart than anyone has been before. But I’m not gonna let Creepy Carl run me off just because I now have someplace to run to. I can handle him, deal with his shit the best way I know how . . . by shutting him down. Hard.
“Damn, Carl, if your mama feels sorry for me, what pity she must feel for you. Her useless son who can’t get through the day without being drunk. And you go ahead and take a peek at my fine ass as I walk away, because it’s the only action you’re getting besides your right hand.”
It’s harsh, it’s mean. It’s bar room rules at their finest. Don
’t dish it if you can’t take it. But one of those big, strong roots of happiness inside me shrivels at the ugliness. I sigh, promising myself to avoid Carl at all costs and not let him, or me, destroy my joyful buzz.
Chapter 18
Scott
Daily Horoscope, October 8th
Scorpio - Today, learning to let go and let others contribute is your best path forward.
The team meeting room is nothing like the sleek modern boardroom upstairs, but that’s okay, I sort of like it. Around this long, plain wooden table sit about a half-dozen of the best business minds, and I know when I take over, the sycophants upstairs are going to find themselves replaced with this younger, hungrier, smarter generation. Maybe we’ll crash and burn, but I believe otherwise. These people are the ones I want beside me as I lead Danger Enterprises into the future.
“So I think the big thing we need to hammer home is the long-term market positioning,” Robbie says from his end of the table, sitting next to my speech writer, Teresa. “It’s the biggest advantage we have over Olivia and Chase.”
“That’s true, but not the most important point,” says Teresa, who I hired because in addition to an MBA, she’s got a way with words. I’d lured her away from a lucrative political speechwriting career and felt fortunate she deigned to put her business mind to work for me instead of some slick politician.
Robbie’s jaw drops a bit and Teresa continues. “We need to show how the market is going to pay off faster. The key is speed.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, and Teresa grins, adjusting her glasses.
“Sir, your father isn’t focused on a twenty-year market capitalization, even if it’s good for the company. He’s flashy and wants a big payout that will pump up the stock price right now. So that when he gives up control, he can lay claim to being in the Forbes top 50.”
Money and pride. For my father, that’s what it always comes down to. “Where’s he at now?” I ask, not having a clue because that list isn’t something I remotely care about.
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