Page 57

Sean straightens and stares at me for a moment and I fight to keep my face placid and cool when I’m about to combust in my chair. With a terse nod, he says, “Figure it out, Steven. We can’t let him win.”

He closes the door with a click .

A low roar rips from my throat as I push out of my chair and drag Grace up from her hiding spot. “You naughty, naughty girl,” I rasp in her ear. She looks dazed, her lips swollen.

“You were so sad. I could feel it. I w-wanted to distract you.”

“You distracted me all right. Ass up, underwear off, on my desk,” I growl as I stalk toward the office door, my hand fisting my throbbing dick.

I engage the lock and turn around and I nearly come at the scene before me—Grace, her dress hiked up, panties on the floor, her breasts pressed up against my desk, her two, creamy ass cheeks high in the air, a glistening slit in between them.

“Fuck me. Look at that dripping wet pussy.”

Not bothering to fully undress, I step behind her and line up the tip of my dick at her slick entrance. “You want to make me feel better, darling? ”

“Yes, sir.”

I freeze at the sound of the term on her lips and at my silence and stillness, she turns her head, her face flushed as she takes in my expression. Whatever she sees on my face has her lips curving into a sly smile.

Her tongue snakes out and swipes the cupid’s bow of her upper lip before she moans, “Let me make you feel better, sir. Use me for your pleasure. Flood me with your cum.”

My vision narrows and nearly blackens out, and with a low roar, I slam into the hilt.

My mind is a swirl of chaos—the crippling loss and shame from this morning battle against the lust and love I have for this woman before me.

There are too many emotions and sensations and I feel like I’m going crazy, delirious, and hanging on by the thinnest thread of sanity.

My hips piston inside her against the desk, her tight channel gripping me like she needs this as much as I do. She whimpers with each thrust and I curl her silky strands around my hand, pulling her head off the desk as I hover my body over hers, dominating her completely, never letting go.

“Steven,” she moans.

Thrust.

“Yes, my dirty, dirty girl?”

Thrust.

“You are loved, oh God,” she cries, her hand slapping over her mouth to muffle the sounds as I hit that tender spot deep inside her and I feel more wetness from where we’re joined.

“Fuck yes. You love me.”

Thrust.

“You’re never leaving me.” I bite her earlobe, earning myself a mewl.

Thrust.

“I’m goddamn crazy about you.”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

My cock throbs as her walls tremble and her cream gushes, our bodies coming together in an erotic symphony of skin against skin .

The darkness from the call earlier is in the background as every atom in my body is focused on the trembling woman beneath me and where we’re joined.

Her legs shake and she tries to arch off the desk but I pin her down and drive into her harder, faster and suddenly, I feel a gush of liquid dripping onto my thighs as her lips part into a cry, “Steven!”

I swallow my name on her lips as the dam bursts inside me and with a few shuddering thrusts, I groan into her mouth as my cock throbs in her tight heat, jets of hot cum flooding her insides.

She shakes beneath me from aftershocks and I feel lightheaded, my soul repleted but exhausted, and I curl my body over hers, relishing the way I cover her just so. If I’m failing as a son, at least I’m not failing as her lover and her man. I can protect her and give her everything I have left.

“I love you, Steven. Don’t you forget that,” she whispers, her skin damp with sweat.

I kiss her temple. The beautiful mind and soul of hers. She always knows just what to say.

“Thank you, Grace. Thank you for loving me.”

She turns her head and flashes me a blinding smile and I look at her in awe.

Even now, I still can’t get over how this woman is mine.

I press my lips to hers, kissing her gently with reverence, tasting her sweetness at the source before pulling out of her and cleaning her with a tissue from my desk.

After adjusting our clothes, she grabs my hand and pulls me to the sofa. Her face is flushed, a beautiful glow on her skin that screams she has been freshly fucked, and I can’t help but grin at her disheveled appearance.

“What?” The lip gnawing is back.

I tug it loose and press another soft kiss where her bite marks are.

“Nothing. You’re just so beautiful…and not only on the outside, but especially on the inside.”

The flush turns pinker, and she drops her head on my shoulders as we stare at the bookshelves lined up with accolades and placards from the sofa. All my achievements on paper, but none matters as much as the woman next to me.

Suddenly, she stills, and a tensed energy emanates from her being.

Frowning, I glance at her. “What’s going on?”

“Steven, don’t you think it’s time for us to explore other options? We can’t fight a cheat without using some tricks of our own.”

Her brows are pinched as she stares at me. “I’ve been thinking about the TransAmerica situation and I think it’s time to take it to the next level.”

“He wanted to do things above-board. His way.”

“But he’ll lose the company. Isn’t that what he wanted more than anything?”

I swallow, a phantom ache returning to my chest. Yes, that’s what Father wants more than anything.

Grace turns toward me. “The times have changed, Steven. We can’t go to a gunfight with our fists and expect to come out alive. We are not dueling amongst gentlemen of bygone eras now. Voss is a crook—and a crazy one at that. We need to think outside the normal boxes with him.”

My fingers trail circles on her shoulders, enjoying the silkiness of her skin. “What do you have in mind?”

She sits up, her eyes holding mine, her teeth gnawing on that plush bottom lip of hers as if she’s debating whether to say anything.

“Tell me, Grace.”

She sighs. “When I was dancing at Trésor, I worked under Elias Kent.”

My body stills at her mention of the infamous crime boss everyone in the city is terrified of.

She swallows and continues, “You may not know this, but he provides protection and candidates for the men and women working on the Rose floors. It’s probably one of the more above-board things in his portfolio.”

She crosses her legs. “He was a good boss, but part of my job there, when I was mingling in the crowds during mixers and such…like the casino night, was to obtain privileged information for him from the patrons. He collects secrets. I think that’s part of why he’s so powerful and feared.”

My mind whirs with the new knowledge as a tiny spark of hope flickers inside me. “You want me to ask him for a favor. For a secret to topple Voss.”

She nods. “If TransAmerica is your father’s lifeblood, and his opponent isn’t playing by the rules, why should we? I’m sure Elias has secrets on Voss. He knew about the takeover long before it was public.”

Grace nestles her head on my shoulder again. “Think about it. He will probably ask us for a secret or a favor in return, but…having worked for him, I don’t think it would be something we can’t stomach. He’s fair.”

A roaring appears in my ears as I contemplate her words. I might not be able to decide yet, but I have to admit this may be our ticket out of this mess.

I squeeze her shoulder and press a kiss on her hair. “You’re absolutely brilliant, Grace. I appreciate how you’re thinking outside the box and treating this project as important as it is to me. Let me think about it. But thank you.”

She emits a satisfied hum.

That night, a new storm brews in the skies. I can smell the sticky humidity in the air, the charged tension in the atmosphere. The winds whine and wail and a flash of blazing light ricochets through the opened windows, followed by the quaking rumble of thunder.

My body awakes with a start, my breathing coming out in harsh pants, my mind filled with images of a sea monster swallowing me whole as I watched Father and his other family helplessly from afar. No one heard my screams as the monster bared her fangs.

My heart riots in my chest, a layer of sweat gathering on my upper lip and my pulse roars in my ears.

It’s a dream. Distorted memories .

The ache from my muscles distracts me temporarily—I must’ve had them clenched as I tossed and turned in the blankets.

I turn toward the open windows. The dark clouds are thick and angry, blanketing the city in tightly leashed anger, the beginnings of the morning light attempting but failing to break free from the suffocating thickness.

My heart races as my mind latches onto the sea monster, with her tendrils and razor-sharp teeth, cold sweat gathering anew on my chest and—

A low moan. A satisfied whimper.

The smell of sweet, calming jasmine.

A tiny package of warm heat and smooth softness burrows against my side, a shapely leg curling across my groin, followed by an arm on my chest.

I glance down, looking at my sleeping beauty and my pulse instantly calms, the ropes binding my lungs slice open, and I take in my first full breath.

A deep warmth generates from within, spreading through my body to my hands and feet, and I gather her in my arms, arranging her so she’s tucked inside my embrace as I spoon her on the soft bed of my apartment on the Upper West Side.

She lets out another soft sigh, a small smile tipping on her lips, like she’s dreaming of wishing stars and butterflies and I find myself smiling, the earlier slithers of terror fading into the night.

Pressing a kiss on her head, I mull over her words from earlier, when she suggested contacting Elias Kent.

My father’s haunted face rises to the forefront. Those sunken cheeks, thinning hair. The life leaching out of his eyes. It’s as if he’s given up on living. Father’s heart is broken for the second time because I failed as a son.

If it weren’t for his determination to win this above-board, playing the usual corporate tactics, I wouldn’t have hesitated to use all means necessary to stop Voss in his tracks.

My father trusted me to solve this for him .

I saw the hope in his eyes all those months ago when he believed I would take care of the problem.

We’ve tried his way, and we failed.

It’s time to do anything necessary to win this.

Sharp resolve races through my body, the spark burgeoning into a dark flame inside me.

Heaving out a deep breath, I carefully roll to the side and grab Grace’s cell phone from the nightstand.

After swiping it open—we traded passcodes awhile back as we didn’t want any secrets to be between us—I scroll to Elias Kent’s contact information.

I grab my phone and type a message.

Steven

Elias, this is Steven Kingsley. I’m sure you know who I am and who I am to Grace. I’d like to ask you for a favor to solve a problem.

A few minutes later, his reply comes through.

Elias

I’ve been expecting your message. Let’s talk.

After setting up a time to meet at The Orchid tomorrow morning, I set our phones back on the nightstand and curl my arms around Grace once more.

For the first time in the last few months, I feel like I’m not fighting against the current anymore, that perhaps I have a chance to turn the tides around and win the war.

And if I don’t, this woman will still be by my side, loving me with her heart, lighting up the darkness inside me.

Everything will be okay.

With that thought in mind, my eyes drift shut, the exhaustion of the day pulling me back under the cloak of sleep.

The storm rages on, the howling of the wind shrill through the windows, the quaking thunder and blinding lightning shaking the world outside—a swirling tempest looking to destroy everything in its path.

But a heaviness sits on top of my eyes, the sweet scent of her lulling me into safety, her warmth cloaking me in love, and slowly, I succumb to a deep, restful sleep, oblivious to the maelstrom.