King of Wall Street: a sexy, standalone, contemporary romance (8 page)

Jesus, how was I supposed to just lie here and take this? It was too much. I needed to be the one who set the pace, or I’d be coming in less than ten seconds.

Her hair fell around her shoulders, and I reached up, pushing it behind her back, wanting nothing to interrupt my view of her high, tight breasts or her pink, swollen nipples jutting out, begging for attention. I pulled at them, one then the other, and she quivered before crashing down on me as far as she would go. She was perfect, far better than I’d imagined and I’d thought about her plenty, wondered what she’d look like above me, naked, legs open, eyes hazy with lust. She was so tight around me that instinct took over, and before I gave her a chance to ride me I flipped her over onto her back and pushed in farther.

“No more,” I said. “I’ve had enough of your constant daily teasing.” I didn’t know if she meant to be provocative. She wasn’t obvious about it in the way a lot of women were. Her clothes weren’t flashy or particularly tight; she didn’t flirt or even try to make conversation with me. I pulled out and started to fuck her now that I finally had her under me, naked. Each time I thought pushing in would get easier, that she wouldn’t be quite so tight, so delicious, but every time I was wrong. She was exceeding each one of the fantasies I’d had about her.

Her hands wrapped around my upper arms, her fingers so tiny they were fascinating. I wanted to pause for a second to ensure they were real, but my headboard smashing against the wall pulled my focus back to wanting to make her come. She looked so perfect, so completely beautiful and if we only had tonight, I was going to have to make it count.

I wanted to go farther, deeper, faster.

I needed to mark her, own her, climb inside her.

It was as if every inappropriate image I’d buried deep in my brain had escaped and come to life.

I lifted one of her legs higher, desperate to be closer. I could tell by the way she opened her mouth slightly wider that the change in angle ratcheted up the pleasure for us both. I dipped my head down to kiss her, and she greedily took my tongue. Despite giving me no sign in the office, she touched me as though I’d lived in her fantasies just as she’d lived in mine. There was a knowingness between us, a familiarity that was unnerving but at the same time I wanted to savor it.

She reached between us and squeezed the base of my cock. I almost exploded. I had to pause.

“You’re such an asshole.” She grinned and wiped sweat from my brow with her fingertips.

“You seem obsessed with that concept. Perhaps we should try your asshole out next and see if it cures you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She pushed her hips up to meet mine, and I raised my eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t I?” I asked. “This is Vegas. Anything goes.”

“Shut up and concentrate on fucking me.”

I loved that mouth, the way it called me names, the way it called
my
name.

She needed to be taught a lesson.

“I’m thinking about nothing else.” I pushed into her and her eyes half shut. I started thrusting deeper and deeper, nailing her to the mattress, wanting to make it good, needing to feel her around me. I sat back on my knees, pulling her up onto my thighs, taking the opportunity to watch her breasts bounce with every thrust.

“You think I hate you now?” I asked. Didn’t she feel the chemistry between us and understand I had to keep my distance otherwise something like this would happen?

“I don’t care. I’m too . . .”

She trailed off and squeezed me harder, creating friction between us that heated the blood in my veins. She gave me a small smile and I wanted her closer. I pulled her up, bringing us face to face, her legs around my waist, and lifted her up and down on my cock. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine. It was such an intimate gesture, so normal, so right, as if we’d been lovers for some time, as if we’d known each other for years.

Harper increased the rhythm, her hips lifting easily in my hands and slamming down on my cock.

“Careful,” I warned. I wouldn’t last long like that.

“I can’t stop,” she whispered, her fingers running across my shoulders. “I can’t stop, don’t want to.” Her movements grew bigger, wilder, and I used my hands over her hips to keep our rhythm steady and her pussy full of me. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders as she pulled back to look at me and screamed, “Max. Yes, Max.” Her pulsating muscles drew me in and in two sharp stabs of my hips I was pouring into her, watching her orgasm seep away as mine took over.

* * * * *

I woke to traffic noise and the sun pouring into my window. Was it Saturday? No, Thursday.

Fuck. Harper.

I must have blacked out.

I bolted upright, but I was alone. Had I dreamt what had happened last night? The ache in my muscles, the bedsheets crumpled at the bottom of the bed, the tug in my stomach—no, it had happened. “Harper,” I called out. She’d gone. I scrubbed my face with my hands then glanced at the clock. Fuck. It was eight thirty. I was usually knee deep in paperwork at my desk by now. I bounded out of bed for the shower.

It was only a few minutes’ walk to the office and I went through the sliding doors to the King & Associates office at two minutes to nine. My hair was still wet from my shower.

I had no idea how I was going to handle Harper in the office today. I had a hundred and one things to do and no spare brain space. But the gathering gloom in my head said last night had been a bad idea—the worst idea. I couldn’t have casual sex with an employee. It blurred too many lines. Having sex with women I’d see outside of the bedroom had never been an option for me. There were enough women in my life. And Amanda deserved my full attention when I wasn’t in the office—it was the deal I’d struck with myself as soon as she was born. Just because I was a young father didn’t mean I’d be a bad one. She would always be my priority.

As much as the night with Harper had been everything I’d fantasized about, it had been a stupid idea.

I kept my head down as I strode to my office, but I couldn’t resist glancing over to Harper’s desk. She’d made it in on time. Her hair was up, folded somehow against her head, revealing her long neck.

“There you are,” Donna called. “I’ve been trying your cell.”

Harper turned toward me just as I looked at Donna. Harper hadn’t left a note this morning. Had she stayed the night? Did she regret what had happened?

“Did you come in from Connecticut?” Donna asked as she followed me into my office.

“No, I just had some things to sort out.” Like washing the smell of sex and Harper off my body. I needed to get my head on straight.

“Okay, well Amanda called. And don’t forget your lunch.” I nodded and Donna left.

I put my phone on speaker and dialed the house while I took off my jacket and hung it on the back of the door.

“Hey, peanut. Donna said you called. Are you not at gymnastics today?” I took a seat at my desk and turned on my laptop.

“Um, no. It got canceled.”

Odd. I was pretty sure Marion would have told me. “It was?” I asked as I scanned my emails.

“Yeah, so I thought maybe I could come into the city tonight and we could go dress shopping tomorrow?” Her tone was bright and matter of fact. She knew I couldn’t say no to her I’m-such-a-good-girl voice. “I thought you might help me shop?”

“Did Marion say she’d bring you on the train?” I hoped she didn’t think she was coming on her own.

“Aunt Scarlett said she’d bring me, then I could come home with you tomorrow.”

“Did Scarlett say she was staying over?” The last thing I wanted was my sister in my apartment meddling.

“No, she has a date.”

Dating? She hadn’t shared that with me. I’d thought she was still sworn off men after her divorce.

“You should take a leaf out of her book, Dad.”

Harper’s satisfied smile ran across my brain. Maybe dating would help get her out of my system.

“You keep me plenty busy,” I replied. “What time are you planning to arrive tonight with Scarlett?”

“I can come?”

I could hear Amanda’s smile, and I couldn’t help but grin. I was a sucker for that smile.

“I’m not going to let my little girl go shopping for her eighth grade dance on her own, now am I?”

She shrieked and I turned down the volume on my phone, wincing. “You’ve got a key, so just let yourself in if I’m not there.”

“Can we get takeout?”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe.”

“And watch a mob movie like we did last time?”

I chuckled. Because Amanda didn’t have a lot of her stuff in the apartment, when she visited we usually ended up hanging out, eating takeout and watching movies. I loved it.

“No promises. I want you to swear you’ll do your piano practice before you leave. If you don’t pass the exam, your mother will move you to Zurich.”

“It’s a deal.” The piano began to chime in the background. “You hear that? I’ve started already.”

I shook my head. “See you later, peanut.”

“Love you, Dad.”

The three best words on the planet.

“Love you, Amanda.”

As I hung up, Donna walked in.

“If you’re leaving early tomorrow to go shopping, let’s do a quick walk-through of your schedule for today and tomorrow.”

I leaned back in my chair. “I see the women in my life know what I’m doing before I do.”

“Did you ever have any doubt?”

I sighed. “I guess not.” It was days like this when I felt as though my life didn’t belong to me. Having my own business was tough and took up almost all my energy, but usually the rewards of working for myself outweighed the disadvantages. Today the scales were tipping in the wrong direction. I just wanted to shrug off the constant demands on my time, to check out for a day—fuck around on the internet, go ride my bike, speak to Harper. Though I had no idea what I’d say. Apologize, maybe.

“Do we need to cancel anything?” I asked.

“No, but the meeting with Andrew and his contact at JD Stanley is at ten, and I’m guessing you won’t want to miss that?”

She was right. I didn’t want to miss it. I was hoping for a little inside knowledge about JD Stanley, the only major investment bank King & Associates didn’t work with.

“No, Amanda can hang out at the apartment until after lunch tomorrow. Do we have anything in the afternoon?”

“A meeting with Harper at three, but I can push it to next week.” As Donna said her name my face heated and the blood in my veins seemed to speed up.

I ran a finger around my collar. How was I going to approach her? Should I say sorry? She’d been just as up for things as I had, but I was her boss. I didn’t want her to think it could happen again. Maybe I should be upfront with her, tell her she was great, but it was a one-time deal. Or should I just pretend it hadn’t happened? I had no idea.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I was the last person she probably wanted to see. After all, she thought I was an asshole.

* * * * *

I’d been glued to my iPhone, taking my office mobile while Amanda was in the changing room in the small Midtown boutique we were in. My fingers hovered over my emails. Should I drop Harper a note? But I had no idea what I’d say. This was why the rules of casual sex should be established before anyone got naked. But
she’d
been the one to talk about Vegas. Perhaps we didn’t need to have an awkward follow-up conversation to reestablish what had already been said. I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and tried to avoid eye contact with the sales assistants.

“What do you think?” Amanda asked, stepping out of a dressing room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, recoiling in shock. Shopping was not my favorite activity to do—Pandora usually bought Amanda’s clothes—but I was going to have to be involved in every shopping trip from now to eternity if she thought she was going to wear
that
.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Dad, don’t swear.”

Don’t swear? She was lucky I didn’t kill someone. Someone like the designer of the dress she had on. “Take that off, right now. You’re fourteen not twenty-five.” It showed way too much skin—there seemed to be nothing holding it up and it was about three feet too short. It was as if she was wearing a towel.

“I’m not a child.”

I didn’t need a reminder she was growing up far too fast. “Yes, you are. That’s what fourteen is. And a child doesn’t get to wear dresses that don’t have arms.”

“It’s called strapless.”

“I don’t care what it’s called—it barely covers your butt. You’re not wearing it.” It seemed like yesterday that she’d refused to wear anything but a tutu. That particular obsession had lasted three months. She used to sleep in the thing. I’d laughed when Pandora had asked me to try to coax her out of it. I’d loved it. She’d looked adorable and it made her so happy—what more could I wish for? A tutu would be good right about now. Amanda glared at me. “I mean it, go change.”

“I don’t work for you. You can’t just order me around.”

I stared right back, raising my eyebrows. There was no way I was backing down on this. “If you want to go to the dance, you’ll go back in there and change.” I nodded toward the curtain behind her. “I’ll be out here trying to find something appropriate for you to wear.”