Page 35 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

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W e shower and fall back into bed. Naked, of course.

I can’t take my eyes off Fiona. She’s so fucking beautiful.

Her soft, creamy breasts are dotted with freckles, and her rosy-tipped nipples are erect.

My cock aches for her, hard with desire.

I can’t wait to thrust into her sweet, hot cunt.

I want to hear her breath catch as I slam into her.

I want to hear her plead, beg me for permission to come.

“Come here.”

She gets on her knees and crawls to me across the king-size mattress, her breasts swaying as she moves. Adrian leans against the headboard and watches, his eyes heated.

“Lie on your side,” I order. “Face me.”

She does as I ask. “Good girl,” I praise her, pressing a kiss on her pretty lips. I cup her breasts and bring them together, squeezing them, at first gently, and then, when I hear her whimper of need, harder. “Doing okay?”

Her eyes are luminous with lust. “Green, Mr. Payne,” she assures me. I squeeze again, and she throws her head back and hisses.

“You like that, kitten?” I lower my mouth to her nipples. They’re probably a little tender from the clamps, and I start slow, flicking my tongue from nub to nub.

Not for long. “Please, more,” she begs, arching her back and presses her breasts into my face.

I bite back my grin at her eagerness and adopt a stern tone. “Are you telling me how to fuck you, Fifi?” I ask, my voice steely. At my side, Adrian chuckles and swats her ass.

“No, Mr. Payne,” she pants. “Sorry.”

Fuck foreplay. My dick is so hard that it’s painful. I roll on a condom, spread her legs and plunge into her. She’s so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. A harsh groan escapes my lips as her muscles milk me.

“Please…” Her voice trails off. She gropes for Adrian’s cock, and he’s no fool. He obligingly moves within reach, and her fingers close around his length.

I slam into her, hard and uncontrolled, my fingers strumming on her clit. There will be time for slow and gentle sex later. Right now, my brain is a haze of lust, and I need Fiona.

She fists Adrian’s cock. Desire surges in me, and I can’t hold back. I stroke her faster, and she groans, her body shuddering with pleasure. “Please may I come, Mr. Payne?”

“Such a good girl,” I gasp. “Asking for permission.” My lips grind down on hers, and I breathe her in, her scent and her softness filling my soul. “Yes, Fifi. You can come.”

Adrian clenches his eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead. “Harder,” he rasps.

We’re all close. Really close. I ram into her swollen cunt. My fingers dance over her clit, and she can’t hold on. “Yes,” she breathes, her body tensing, her muscles quivering around my cock as she comes. That pushes me over the edge, and I can’t hold on. I explode, her name on my lips.

She’s like a drug, and I’m powerless to resist.

The weekend passes too quickly. Before I know it, Sunday afternoon rolls around, and it’s time to head back to the city.

“So I’ll see you guys around?” Fiona asks us as she gets into her car. Her tone is hesitant. “Maybe I could grab a ride with you to Club M next Friday?”

I don’t want to wait until Friday to see her again. “Are you busy Tuesday or Wednesday? Want to have dinner with us?”

“I’d love to. Tuesday? Can I bring anything?”

“If you feel in a sharing mood, you can bring a bottle of Xavier’s wine,” Adrian replies.

She grins. “Absolutely.”

We hug her goodbye. She gets into her car and drives away. Adrian and I spend a few minutes cleaning the cabin. “Outside the club, she’s a completely different person,” Adrian muses as he unloads the dishwasher.

“Or maybe, unlike you, she’s just dealing with her demons.”

He stops putting away coffee mugs and stares at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Still think it’s your fault that Sandy died?”

He takes a deep breath. “I suggested the trip,” he says woodenly.

“Because she’d been working round-the-clock, and you wanted her to take a break.” I want to shake some sense into Adrian. “You did a nice thing.”

He resumes stacking the mugs on the shelf. “And she died.”

“Accidents happen.”

“This one could have been prevented,” he replies, his jaw tight.

I heave an inward sigh. We’ve had this conversation so many times, and it never goes anywhere. I don’t even know why I still try.

Of course you know why. You’re thinking of the future again. One with Fiona in it.

On Monday, I’m about to leave for lunch when Nita pokes her head in our office. “Patrick Cohen’s in the lobby,” she says. “He’s insisting that he sees one of you.”

Adrian’s on a conference call with our team in Congo. Which leaves me. Fuck. Patrick Cohen, who’s one of our bigger clients, will spend the next hour gossiping about everything that’s going on in the Hill. The man loves the sound of his own voice.

So much for that meatball sub. “Sure, I’ll see him.”

She departs, giving me a sympathetic smile. A couple of minutes later, Cohen walks into my office, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. “Payne, thanks for fitting me in.”

I shake his hand. “No problem, Mr. Cohen. What can I do for you?”

He avoids looking at me. “There’s no easy way of saying this,” he says. “I’m terminating my relationship with Lockhart & Payne.”

I go still. “You are? May I ask why?”

He looks torn. Finally, he nods. “This is off the record,” he warns.

“Of course.”

“I got a call from a certain senator’s office this morning suggesting that I do my business elsewhere.” He gives me an apologetic look. “We can’t afford to piss him off.”

Senator Theodore Downing, I’m willing to bet.

Not only have we refused to bid on the contract in Niger, but I also threatened to beat his only son to a pulp. The senator is choosing to express his displeasure by chasing off our clients.

“You have teams on the ground in Mexico and Guatemala,” he continues, his expression wary. “As of tomorrow, they’ll need to vacate their premises.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Brody. I really am.”

I get to my feet. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Fucking hell. I’ve got to get on the phone with Felicity and figure out how many of our clients will cave if Downing exerts pressure.

We’ll survive this. If Raymond Downing ever says another word to Fiona, I’ll gladly and cheerfully break his nose. No matter how much business we’ll lose as a result.