by Jagger Cole
“It’s impressive, what you’ve built, Barrett.”
“It was always the plan, I just got…”
“Derailed?”
“Something like that,” I growl.
I stand and take a few steps towards the big floor-to-ceiling window as well.
“I was going to do one more drink,” I grunt. “You?”
Delphine nods her pretty blonde head. “I could do one more.” But suddenly, she whips around. “Oh, but I can get it—” She stumbles right into me. She gasps. The crystal tumbler in her hand drops to the ground and shatters.
“Fuck!” She gasps. She goes to jump back, but almost trips over her own feet. I grab her to steady her. Her hands dart out and grab my forearms, and she half-falls against my chest. Delphine blushes and steadies herself. But neither of us move. We just stand there, inches apart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her eyes are wide and looking up into mine.
“Don’t be.”
She nods. She wets her lips. My hunger for her surges and roars for satisfaction.
“Maybe it’s time to go,” she says softly.
I nod. My jaw grinds. “Maybe.”
She swallows. She smiles weakly, like she’s trying to lighten the mood. “Let me guess, your view at home is even better than here?”
“It is,” I smirk. “But I’m actually staying here tonight.”
She frowns. “At your office?”
“There’s an issue at my penthouse.”
“Did you run out of caviar and Champaign?”
“Cute,” I mutter dryly.
Delphine sucks on her lip and blushes. Christ, it’s my undoing. I move closer. I don’t care that this is a bad idea. I don’t care how dangerous this is. All I know is, I want her near me. I want her close.
She looks up at me and trembles. “Maybe a drink was a bad idea,” she says quietly.
I growl. “A terrible idea.”
“The worst,” she breathes. Her chest rises and falls. Her hand reaches out and gently tugs at my loosened tie. I groan, and my hands move to her hips. Christ, she feels good under my fingers. I pull her close, and she lets me.
“Barrett...” She breathes hotly.
I need to walk away. This is a fucking terrible idea. This is the tangent I never saw. I plan for everything. But I never planned for her. I never planned for the attraction I feel for her—the force that yanks me in and makes it impossible to walk or turn away from her.
I’m off-script, and this is going off the rails.
I turn away. But her hand grips my tie, like she doesn’t want to let go. It’s a small gesture. But it’s my breaking point. It’s my undoing. And now there’s not a chance that I’ll let her go either.
I turn back, savagely. I growl, pull her against me, and lean down to kiss her mouth hard.
7
Delphine
My heart races. My head spins. My entire body feels like it’s being pulled in two directions. But even still, I don’t pull away. My lips stay pressed tightly to his, kissing him like it’s the last kiss on earth.
On the one hand, I’m kissing Barrett King. Ten years after he was my teenage crush and a decade of fantasies later, I’m actually kissing Barrett King.
On the other hand? I’m kissing Barrett King. Not the boy Barrett who stole my heart every time he so much as glanced at me. No, I’m kissing the man Barrett. The Demon King Barrett. I’m kissing the man who snapped at me to go “get him a shirt”. The man who leaves a trail of conquest and ruin in his wake, like a barbarian chieftain.
It’s instinct. I pull away. And before my stupid brain can think it through, I slap him. Instantly, I gasp. My hand flies to my mouth.
“Oh my God, Barrett...
Barrett growls deeply. His eyes burn hotly into mine. I’m ready for him to yell, or to push me away. I’m not ready for him to grab me tighter and kiss me again even harder.
I moan. My hands grip his tie and my mouth opens for him. He pushes me back. I gasp when my back hits the glass of the huge window overlooking the city. His tongue finds mine, and my hands slide over his chest through his shirt. His much larger one cups my jaw possessively as he claims the kiss from my lips.
“Wait,” I gasp. I’m panting for air when I pull. back. “We can’t do this.”
“Says who?”
“You’re my boss?”
“And?”
His thumb slowly traces across my bottom lip. I tremble, and my desire for him surges wildly. With a moan, I throw myself into him. He growls and kisses me savagely. Something wild burns inside of me. I’ve never once been kissed like this. But I’ve wanted to be kissed like this. I’ve wanted to be kissed like this by him, since the second I laid eyes on him in my father’s garage ten years ago.
“Barrett,” I moan. He keeps kissing me, making me tremble and moan. “I…Barrett, I’m not going to be that girl,” I gasp.
“And what girl is that,” he growls. His one hand squeezes my hip possessively. The other slides into my hair. He grips it tightly, keeping my lips pressed hard to his. I moan deeply.
“I’m not going to be that girl who sleeps with her boss,” I gasp.
“And who said anything about sleeping,” he snarls. His hand pulls on my blouse, tugging it free from my skirt. I let him do it. God who am I kidding, I want him to do it. My breathing comes faster. My skin tingles all over. His hand sides over my waist again. This time, his fingers brush the bare skin between my shirt and my skirt.
“No sleeping then?”
“None,” he growls against my mouth. My core tightens. Heat throbs inside of me.
“So, what should we do instead?” I moan; hoping I sound seductive and not too eager.
Barrett groans deeply. His hand slides over my hip again. He lifts my shirt, and his fingers tease over my tummy. I whimper, and my skin tingles under his touch. His hand slides lower, down over the front of my skirt. He keeps sliding lower, and then he grips it. He tugs it up, and I moan when the hem creeps higher and higher up my thighs.
I could stop him. At least, I think I could. But I’d have to want him to stop, first. And currently, stopping is the very last thing in the world I want him to do.
“There’s no sleeping involved with me making you fucking come right here against this window.”
I gasp. No one’s every spoken to me like that—so crude and so forward. And yet his growling voice and those filthy words have my knees shaking. They have heat seeping between my thighs, soaking my panties.
He chuckles darkly. “Men don’t speak to you like that, do they?”
I whimper. I shake my head.
“And why do I get the impression that you’ve been dying for one to?”
I moan.
“Why do I get the impression, Delphine,” he snarls thickly against my lips. “That you’re dripping fucking wet now that one finally is.”
A guttural moan escapes my mouth. “Has anyone ever told you how arrogant you are?”
“Several, and frequently. And you haven’t answered my question.”
“Barrett…” I whimper.
“I’d ask how wet your panties are,” he growls. “But who knows if you’re even wearing any.”
I groan. “You are such a prick,” I whimper.
“And you’re dripping fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”
I gasp as he tugs my skirt higher. He keeps pulling, and I don’t stop him. In fact, I’m willing him to keep going. I’m panting against his mouth. I’m not able to say words. But every voice in my head is screaming for him to rip my clothes off and do whatever he wants to me.
He might be a grade-A alpha prick. But I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
He pulls my skirt higher. I gaps when I feel the air against my slick, wet panties. Barrett glances down between us and smirks. “Well well, I guess someone decided to put on her panties today.”
“Just for you,” I moan sarcastically.
“Well gee, you shouldn’t have,” he gr
owls. His mouth teases down across my jaw and then my neck. I whimper when his soft lips and stubbled chin inch and tease closer to my ear. “You really shouldn’t have,” he growls. “Let’s fix that.”
His big hand slips between my legs. I moan when I feel him skim up one of my thighs. He inches closer and closer, until I’m all but pushing my hips towards him. It feels wanton and shameless. But I can’t fight it. The desperation to feel his hand on me there has me writhing for him. And he knows it.
Barrett chuckles. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Oh my God why are you such a prick?” I moan.
“Why do you get so fucking wet for me being a prick,” he hisses back.
“And who say’s I’m wet—” I choke on my words when his hand slides the rest of the way up. He cups my hot, throbbing pussy through my completely soaked through panties, and I gasp.
“I do,” he snarls quietly into my ear. “I say you’re fucking wet for me.”
His palm cups me though the fabric. His thumb traces back and forth across the lace of the waist. He pushes his thumb under. He slowly begins to peel my panties down. I moan deeply.
I whimper when my panties peel away from my lips. He pulls them down, and then lets them drop to my knees. His hand slides back up. This time when I moan, it’s because his big hand is cupping my bare pussy.
“Barrett,” I gasp. “We...we shouldn’t…”
“I could stop.”
There’s a smugness to his words. It’s not chivalry, it’s a threat. His hand begins to pull away. But God help me, my hips push forward to keep the contact. And Barrett fucking smirks when I do.
“Greedy girl,” he growls deeply.
His hand pushed back against me. A thick finger slowly strokes through my lips. I moan when he opens me wide. When his big finger rubs over my throbbing clit, I gasp.
“Fuck, Delphine,” he growls. He kisses me deeply. His finger strokes my pussy, and my hips push to meet him. “So fucking wet,” he growls. He pulls back a little and smirks at me. “Been a while?”
I groan. “You are such an asshole.”
“And you’re dripping all over my hand.”
He pushes a thick finger into me. I moan deeply as he curls it inside to stroke my g-spot. His palm grinds against my clit. I want to stop them, but my hips move with a mind of their own. I grind against his hand shameless. I claw at his chest and start to yank open his shirt.
Barrett snarls and kisses me deeply. He pins me to the huge window with my skirt bunched around my waist, my panties at my knees, and my bare ass against the glass. My legs spread wider for him. My hips rock harder against him.
“I…Barrett, we shouldn’t be…”
“Then tell me to stop,” he snarls. “Tell me to stop, Delphine.”
I whimper. “I…”
“Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”
“I…”
“Yes?” He hisses.
“I can’t,” I moan.
His smile is downright triumphant. “Then you’d better come for me.”
He curls two thick fingers into me. He stokes them in and out. His palm grinds my clit in slow circles. He kisses me like he wants to devour me whole, and I can feel something enormous throbbing against my thigh as he pins me to the glass with his body.
“Come for me,” he demands when I start to whimper louder.
“You’re…oh God…you’re so fucking bossy,” I moan,
“Come,” he snarls. And he’s not asking, he’s telling. “Come for me,” he growls. “Come for me right fucking now.”
When the Demon King of Wall Street says jump, you ask how high. When he asks a question, you’d better have an answer.
And when he’s got you pinned to the panoramic window of his billion-dollar office with your panties at your knees and his fingers stroking your pussy, and he tells you to come?
You do.
I cry out into his lips. My nails drag over his bare chest. My mouth drops from his lips to his chest, and I choke out my orgasm against his skin. His fingers stroke in and out of me. My hips grind against them, and my legs wobble and shake with my climax.
I’m still shaking when he slowly pulls his hand away from me. I sag again the glass. My shirt is somehow half unbuttoned. My skirt is bunched and rolled around my waist. My panties are at my knees.
I look up as Barrett slowly brings his hand to his lips. He opens them and sucks the two fingers inside. I flush bright red as he slowly licks his fingers clean of my slickness. His eyes never pull away from mine.
Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. He scowls and jams a hand into his jacket pocket to silence it. It goes off again, instantly. Again, he growls and shuts it off. But this time, his office phone starts ringing off the hook.
“Goddamnit,” he snarls. The desk phone stops, but his cell goes off again. This time, Barrett yanks it out of his pocket. He glares at the screen and then answers it.
“Franklin, hey,” he grunts. He pulls away from me. Instantly, I miss the heat of his nearness. But also, it’s like a sobering cold shower. I suddenly realize that I’m slumped against the window of my BOSS’S office, with my panties around my knees.
Barrett turns away to mutter something into the phone. But the dream moment is gone. Crush or not, the reality is, I just fooled around with my freaking boss.
Barrett hangs up. He turns back as I blush and pull my panties back up. I smooth my skirt down and start to quickly button up my blouse.
“I had to take that.”
“Oh, it’s…” I shrug as casually as I can. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I wasn’t.”
I glare up at him. He smirks right back.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I mutter quietly.
Barrett’s eyes drink me in. “And yet…”
I glare at him. “I will not be that girl, Barrett. I will not be that ridiculous girl who sleeps with her fucking boss.”
“So, what was that?” He grunts.
I swallow. I quickly tuck in my shirt. “Something that can’t happen again.”
“And if I say it can, and will?”
I tremble, heatedly. My core tightens and throbs. I look up at him. “You understand what sexual harassment is, right?”
“I’m not a betting man,” he growls. He moves against me. I gasp when he slowly pins me to the glass again. “But if I would, I would bet that you’re already so fucking wet again.”
My face grows hot. It’s not the only part of me that does, either.
Barrett smiles smugly. “I’m right, aren’t I.”
My blush only grows deeper. I can’t speak, because I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth.
“Just tell me I’m wrong, Delphine,” he growls.
I take a shaky breath. “I’m going.” I push past him, somehow. I start to storm towards the door to his office. But then his words stop me cold.
“I want you.”
I freeze. I tremble and turn. “What?”
“You heard me,” he grunts. His eyes pierce into me. He hasn’t bothered to re-button his shirt or tuck it in. And my eyes drop to the thick bulge in his pants.
“I want you,” he snarls. “All of you.”
I tremble and shiver. “You can’t say that to me.”
“I just did,” he throws back. “And if you don’t feel the same, I’m not going to push it. That isn’t who I am.”
I arch a brow. My lip curls into a sneer. “Oh, you mean you’re not a predator?”
“I mean that I don’t chase. Not ever.”
I roll my eyes. “How smug of you.”
Barrett smiles thinly. He shrugs. “Tomorrow, when you come to work…”
He steps towards me. I tremble, gasping when he closes the distance. He looms over me, and I breath quickly.
“If you want this to continue,” he growls. “Don’t be wearing panties.”
I tremble. My entire body is clenching and aching for more from him. But I know this i
s fucked up. This is beyond fucked up.
“And if I am wearing them?” I venture quietly.
Barrett’s jaw tightens. “Then this is over.”
I swallow. “And so, if I’m not, then I’m—”
“Then you’re mine.”
8
Barrett
In hindsight, there’s a chance what happened in my office was a mistake. The next morning, I’m sitting in my office early, drinking espresso. I’m early because I never left. When Delphine all but ran out of here, I retreated to my day apartment off of my office. And I fell asleep with the taste of her pussy still on my lips.
But daylight brings clarity. Clarity brings doubt. All of what transpired here last night was a mistake, actually.
Except, I know that’s just the line I have to tell myself. I need to tell myself it was a mistake, to absolve myself of my sins. But not even so deep down, I know it wasn’t. I know I took her with full knowledge of the consequences. I know what was at stake, and I did it anyways.
I’d fucking do it again, too.
Slowly, the office comes to life around me. Alicia pops in to see if I need anything. Helen checks in a few times. Some of my tech acquisitions people come in for a rapid-fire strategy meeting I utterly forgot about.
I could say it all takes my mind off Delphine. But that would be a lie. Because it doesn’t at all. It doesn’t exactly help when I finally leave my office to sit in on the Dina-Tech meeting that Delphine is actually leading.
She’s up at the front of the conference room trying to outline strategy on the white board. I’m in the back of the room trying to keep my cock from ripping through my slacks. We keep locking eyes. And it’s a fucking problem when we do. Her face turns pink, and my jaw grinds a little harder.
Delphine’s talking about long term re-investment. But all I can hear is her moans from last night. I’ve made her come. I’ve licked it off my fingers. I smirk hungrily at her. She pretends to play with her necklace. But I’m not blind to the fact that it’s her middle finger doing it. Her pouty little sneer in my direction drives it home.
I shake my head in frustration. Christ, I’m in a city full of woman willing to fall to their knees for me at the drop of a hat. And the only one I want just gave me the middle finger and a stink eye.