Executive Package (2 page)

“Please,” Elle whispered, her voice shaking as Cunningham moved closer. Her arm was still linked through Nolan’s, and to her horror, Nolan’s hand dropped possessively to the small of her back, leaving no doubt to the observers that he wasn’t a platonic friend.
 

Cunningham slowly raised his hand, drawing out the moment, and rubbed his thumb over Elle’s lips. His intense gaze was sober. He was clean-shaven, and Elle could smell his spicy aftershave mixed with the intoxicating aroma of power that Cunningham always exuded.
 

At first glance, most people took Cunningham for an athlete, which wasn’t untrue, but he was first and foremost an astute businessman. Everything about him screamed alpha male: the breadth of his shoulders, the girth of his biceps, his square jaw, the thick, dark hair and tan skin. He trapped her face in his hands, holding her gently but firmly. “Who are you?” he asked.

Elle’s tremors turned into quakes. “I… I don’t understand.”

“You are ours,” he said, his growling voice warm on her skin.

She whimpered, the noise floating in the silent ballroom.

He pressed his lips against hers. Cunningham was the most dominant man Elle had ever encountered, and his kisses were often an assault, a prelude to his commanding her to do whatever kinky—and frequently deliciously degrading—acts that struck his fancy.

But this was something else entirely. He was taking his time. Publicly claiming her, slow and tortuous for the entire world to see. Instead of forcing her to accept his entry, he teased her lips until she yielded to him, her body helplessly obedient after months of his domination. On and on he kissed her, exploring her mouth, stroking his tongue over hers. By the time he released her, she was reeling.
 

Cunningham stepped aside, and Jonathan caught her. She stiffened, knowing that once Jonathan kissed her, it could never be unseen by the silent and shocked audience of his peers.
 

Jonathan turned her chin toward him, his eyebrows raised, his gaze penetrative. He was so very beautiful, her playful Jonathan. If he’d been anywhere near that movie set, he would have had crowds demanding signed head shots. His tall, lean muscularity and golden, confident looks made heads swivel nonstop. While he didn’t exactly love the constant attention, he handled it graciously, never demeaning the women who panted after him with stars in their eyes.
 

“Elle,” he murmured. “I love you. You know that, and now everyone will.” He leaned in close to her ear. “Frankly, I’m tired of all these hot women throwing themselves at me. It’ll be a relief for them to stop.”

She almost smiled. Like Cunningham, he cupped her face in his hands, but if she’d wanted to pull away, he might have allowed it, granting her a few more moments to collect herself.

But she couldn’t. Hurting Jonathan? She’d rather drag a knife across her own wrists. She stared into his beautiful blue eyes. Her Nordic warrior. If he’d showed up to plunder her village, she wouldn’t have known whether to run screaming or take off her clothes and lie down.

“Kiss incoming in three… two…” His mouth grazed hers. Heat spread over Elle as she tasted aromatic traces of red wine on his lips. She sighed, and he dominated her fully, his tongue claiming her mouth in a way that was wholly unsuitable outside of a bedroom. He kissed her like heroes kissed heroines, full of love and lust and certainty, and she was helpless to resist.

“Delicious,” he said. His eyes searched hers before he released her.

He and Cunningham exchanged a glance, then Nolan leaned in. Nolan had been in love with her the longest, hiding his feelings while she pined for Cunningham’s elusive approval, and every bit of his adoration was evident in the way he dipped her backward and kissed her.

Elle dug her fingers into his muscular shoulders, her nails slipping on the fabric of his jacket. Nolan finished his kiss by raking his teeth over her soft, exposed throat, normally a prelude to hot, sweaty sex. Someone in the room gasped, scandalized, and Elle’s face burned even more.

 
He straightened, gently released her, and ran a hand through his dark hair, smiling. “You should know that if Cunningham had gotten his way, you’d be naked on the table,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

“At least then there would be no doubt that she’s ours,” Cunningham growled. He pulled out a chair for Elle. She sat slowly, her knees pressed together—and not simply because of the tight dress. Underneath, she wore only the flimsiest of panties, barely a strip of silky thong between her legs. Her body had responded enthusiastically to the kisses of her lovers, and her panties were soaked.

Cunningham bent over her, his heat and masculine scent making her tingle. “You look amazing. Maybe I’ll bring that dressmaker on as part of our full-time staff.” He sat on her right. Jonathan sat on her left and pulled her hand into his lap with a squeeze, his expression concerned.

Elle squeezed back with a little nod. While she didn’t have the courage to look around the room and see everyone staring at her, she felt a lot better now that it was done. No more walking into a restaurant with one, or two, or all three of her bosses, and seeing people suddenly lean in close together, their voices dropped to whispers. No more wondering
if
people knew. It was done. It was out there, and she was relieved. Once again, Cunningham had been right.

Her gaze crossed Nolan’s, and she wondered if the group of stunt men were still putting on a show outside.

Jonathan released her hand and stretched, then propped an elbow on the back of his chair. Only men born into this world could act so comfortable under such circumstances. He looked around, then laughed. “April’s fingers might fall off,” he said to Cunningham, who smiled.

“Who is April?” Elle asked. She’d never heard the name before. “And what’s wrong with her fingers?”

“The biggest gossip you’ll ever meet,” Nolan said. “Cunningham made sure she got an invite.”

Cunningham rose and extended his hand to Elle. “Time for you to meet her.”

Elle shook her head, but Cunningham ignored her. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped a thick, muscular arm around her. Elle’s legs turned to jelly as he tightened her in a sideways embrace, tucking her up under his arm. She loved all three of her boyfriends equally, she really did, but Cunningham was the one who made her feel uncoordinated and nervous.
 

He marched her up to the beautiful, elegant woman in the golden dress, the one Elle had noticed outside. “April.”

The woman glanced up from her phone. Her face went white when she saw Cunningham and Elle standing so close, and she quickly flipped the phone over. Elle had a powerfully strong suspicion that she was the subject of the texts April had been sending. April floated to her feet, a confident smile on her aristocratic face.

“Why, Cunningham,” she purred. “It’s so very nice to see you. Thanks for the table.”

“Have you been here long?”

April’s gaze darted to Elle, then back to Cunningham. “Long enough to…” Her voice trailed off.

Elle imagined that April was trying to find a diplomatic way to describe the visual of Cunningham, Jonathan and Nolan, three of the richest and most eligible bachelors, all kissing the same woman.

“I’m Elle Girdley.” Elle extended her hand. And then, because the secret was out anyway, she looked April in the eye and confessed the truth. “I’m Cunningham’s girlfriend. And Nolan’s. And Jonathan’s.”

April’s eyes went huge, and her handshake became limp. She swallowed, her face beaming with controlled excitement and scandal.
 

“Not just our girlfriend,” Cunningham said. “Our soulmate.”

“Are you boys bisexual?” April asked. “I wonder because—”
 

“We are not.”

April stared at Elle, this time slower, appraisingly.
Let the judging begin
, Elle thought. But to her surprise, April nodded knowingly. “Lucky gal,” April said. “Very, very lucky.”

Cunningham leaned in a little closer. “Between us, April, there’s going to be a wedding before too long.”

Elle felt the smile freeze on her face. She’d been hoping he’d somehow let that go.

April’s eyes clouded with jealousy, but she smiled good-naturedly. “I should take you the next time I go to Vegas,” she said to Elle. “Lucky.”

“Thank you,” Elle murmured, relieved that April hadn’t asked which man Elle would be marrying.

The lights dimmed. “Enjoy your evening,” Cunningham said.
 

“Oh, I will!” April asserted, her hands blindly scrabbling for her cell phone. “Maybe I can get a photo?”

“Perhaps later. Excuse us.” Cunningham guided Elle to their table, and they took their seats just as the host, a man in his mid-sixties wearing old-fashioned tails, approached the podium.
 

“It’s done,” Cunningham said to Nolan and Jonathan.
 

“I guess the whole city will know,” Elle mused. Or, at least a certain stuffy segment of the city. It would be strange, but at least it was out there. No more getting nervous whenever she was in a nice restaurant with more than one of her boyfriends.

Jonathan opened his mouth, then smiled guiltily. “The city? As rich as Nolan is? Given the lingerie supermodels he dated during his wild and crazy youth? It’ll be on television, headlines on every celebrity gossip site in the world.”

Elle gasped. “What?” Her mind reeled. If it was on television, her family would know. And Nolan had dated celebrities? It was the first she’d heard of it. “I’m not ready—”
 

Cunningham shifted so that he could study her. “You’re not sure you want to be with us?”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m sure. But…”
 

“Then that’s all that matters. We’ll discuss this later,” Cunningham ordered as the host tapped the microphone.

Elle glanced over at Nolan, who was shaking his head subtly. She nodded, understanding that she was in dangerous territory. She’d gotten into trouble before with Cunningham about not acting like she was committed to the relationship. The man only had two speeds: hot or cold. Lava or glacier was more like it.
 

Deep down, she knew Cunningham was right. Unfortunately, that didn’t do a thing to quell the fluttering in her stomach.

After the first round of awards, a light dinner was served. Between bites of tart lemon custard, Elle glanced over her shoulder, paranoid that everyone was watching her. Of course, the action of turning in her seat drew attention.

“Relax,” Cunningham said. He lowered one of his hands to her knee and squeezed. “This is our life. If we hide, we’ll never be free. Letting other people dictate how we live will only make us miserable.” He gathered up the fabric of the bottom of her dress, and her skin tightened into goosebumps. When the dress was over her knee, he laid his hand on her soft inner thigh and slowly slid his palm up.

Elle squirmed long before his fingers reached the warm, wet satin between her legs. She sucked her lip into her mouth and tried not to bite through it.

Cunningham’s fingertips brushed over the swell of her pussy, then trailed back down again.
 

“Cunningham!” she whispered. But the protest froze in her mouth. Telling him to stop would only convince him to continue.

“Yes?” Cunningham asked. His deep voice rolled seductively.

Elle shook her head, and Jonathan laughed before taking a sip of his red wine. “Nothing,” she said. She dropped her hand into her lap and leaned forward as servers collected their dinnerware, hoping that to the casual observer, it would seem like she and Cunningham were innocently holding hands.
 

Cunningham shifted closer to her. One of his fingers pried at the hot fabric that clung to her damp skin. He worked his way in until he touched her bare, smooth flesh. “You’re wet,” he murmured.

Elle closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was doing this, here. Strike that. She could. This was how Cunningham operated. He found her limits, then smashed through them.
 

She remembered what Nolan had said about Cunningham wanting to take her on the table. She’d thought it was an exaggeration, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Spread your legs and allow me access,” he said.
 

With a little shudder, she obeyed as much as the tight dress permitted—if she didn’t, he would simply make her—and he slowly nudged one finger into her slit. She tightened around him, which didn’t slow him down in the least. Elle felt that her face had gone bright red.

“Love the way you grip me,” he breathed. He added a second finger into her snug heat, stretching her open. Elle’s pulse hammered. The background conversations faded to an indistinct roar, the lights and people around her blurred, and her awareness of her body, and Cunningham inside her, heightened.
 

The dress felt tight around her breasts and stomach, constrictive. Her knees widened as much as the expensive gown would allow, and she tilted her head back, her lips parting as she sighed in contented submission.

The host returned to the podium. “Before we start the slideshow, I have one more special award to present. If you’ll indulge me.”

Slideshow,
Elle thought.
They’ll have to turn the lights down even more for that.
Relief and anticipation brought a smile to her lightly panting mouth.
 

“Lights, please,” the host called out. The lights dimmed a fraction, and a spotlight shined roundly on the stage. “Tonight we’d like to honor a philanthropist who has exceeded the expectations of his peers, his family, and, indeed, society.”
 

He pulled the microphone from the stand and walked across the stage, the heels of his shiny black shoes ringing smartly against the floor. He came down the steps and, to Elle’s utter horror, approached their table.

“In the years since Cunningham & Associates opened their doors, the community has benefitted significantly. Our city is one of the few where public schools haven’t needed to eliminate or even reduce their arts and sports programs.”