Sharing Nicely (7 page)

“I better check that my company still exists, but I’ll be back for you soon, my wicked temptress.”

I smiled then and swallowed the words that had bubbled up inside.

* * * *

I soon persuaded myself it had been silliness, a response to the ecstasy that had streamed through my body. The short trip passed in a whirl of shopping, eating and fucking. It was glorious but when we were out I felt the gaze of the world on my shoulders. I felt a little like I was being paraded around like a prized pet. I didn’t know if Greg thought of me like that—he never professed anything deeper than lust for me, even there in the city of lovers.

I felt a sadness creep over me when I got home. I got back into the swing of work and loved that, as always, but when I got home each night—well, early hours of the morning—I felt the loneliness of an empty apartment more keenly. Remembering the encounters with Greg and of course Darren didn’t remove any of that.

Chapter Five

“So, sweet cheeks, what have you got planned for today?”

I shook my head against my mobile and sighed. “Work, Darren, it’s Saturday night.”

“You’re the boss, can’t you—?”

“No, I can’t,” I snapped before he finished his sentence. I hadn’t slept well since returning from Paris earlier in the week. Something weighed heavy on my heart but I was reluctant to inspect it further to find out what it was.

“All right, fair enough, love,” he sighed. “Maybe another time, then?”

“Yeah, maybe.” My tone and my resolve softened when I heard the disappointment in his voice. He was only trying to be nice to me after all.

I forgot the conversation soon enough in the hubbub of that night. We had a birthday party to cater on top of the usual rush for food and drinks and a good old time. I was a barman down to flu and a nasty virus had wiped out several of my waiting staff. I divided my time between the two, filling in the gaps. I might have been the boss but I was just a member of staff like any other and I mucked in when needed to make things work. I was knackered by eleven and although food service had ended and it was relatively quiet I knew it wouldn’t last. Saturday night saw the clubbers turn out in force. We would be packed to the rafters again within the hour.

“Jen, could you stay on and tend bar?” I asked one of the waitresses as she walked past.

“Oh, boss, you know I would usually but—” She patted her tummy, which was a little more protruding than usual. I then remembered why I hadn’t asked her to do any overtime for a while.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot in the madness of it all. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” she replied. “Morning sickness is over at last, thank God. It’s the swollen ankles that do my head in now, but still, won’t be long till the little sprout makes an appearance.”

“No, not long. We need to meet about your maternity leave… Before you go could you just ask the others if any of them want to do the bar tonight? I’ll give them time and a half for it.”

“Sure, boss, I’ll ask.”

I knew I was lucky. I had a good body of staff—yes, I had a relatively high turnover, since many of them were students and eventually they’d go off to seek long-term employment, but I could rely on my team to go the extra mile. People were happy to work in Diamonds. I suspected the high tips from wealthy patrons had more to do with it than the firm but fair boss, but it all worked and that was the main thing.

“Well, hello,” a familiar voice roused me from my thoughts. “I didn’t have you down as a barmaid.”

“Hi, Darren.” I smiled stiffly. “We’re short-staffed tonight.”

“Bummer,” he sighed. “I was hoping to whisk you away for a night of hot loving.”

“No chance, darling. Sorry.” I shrugged, and passed the pint I’d pulled to the skinny man stood beside Darren. I took the money and passed back the change. I wished Darren wasn’t there. As much as I liked the guy, I didn’t have time for small talk.

“Do you need a barman?” he asked.

“Tonight, yes, we’re a server down.” I took the next order, two pretty drinks for the small, pretty lady in red.

“Good job I’m here, then. Move over.”

“What?” I looked up to see him slipping over to my side of the bar.

“I was a barman for years when I was at uni. I’ll give you a hand.” He smiled, leaned over the bar and took the next person’s order.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I sighed, opening the till.

“Sure I do. Where’s your price list?”

I pointed down to the cheat sheet we kept below the bar for trainees. Darren nodded.

I shook my head and carried on serving. If he didn’t get under my feet or seriously upset a customer I supposed there was no harm in letting him help out for the evening.

He turned out to be very capable, an absolute godsend in fact. The customers thought it was brilliant, being served by a billionaire. Darren posed for many photos and kept the people who were waiting for drinks entertained. We had zero complaints from the moment he hopped to my side of the bar.

“So, Mr Bennett, are you looking for a full-time job?” I looked up from the glasses I was putting away as he walked by.

“Why, are you offering me one?”

“On tonight’s performance I certainly think I should. You were great.”

“Aw, shucks. I’m flattered but, and don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t think you can afford my wages.”

“You’re telling me ten quid an hour doesn’t draw you in?”

“Naw, I make closer to ten thousand quid an hour, so I’ll pass. But I did enjoy myself tonight.”

“Good. You really helped me out tonight. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Now, about that payment, can I take it in kind?”

He brushed up close and I put the tumbler down just before it fell from my shaking fingertips. “Well, I have a couple of kilos of assorted bar snacks in the store…” I winked.

“That’s not quite what I meant.” Darren grabbed me and pressed his lips to mine before I had time to protest or to check if anyone was watching. I was incensed and turned on all at the same time so I didn’t push him away for a few seconds.

“Darren,” I snapped, “stop messing about. Someone could see.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” He looked hurt and that surprised me.

“No, but I’m the boss here, I don’t want my employees gossiping about me behind my back.”

He shrugged then kissed me again.

“No one’s here,” he answered as I banged on his chest. “I sent them all home with a generous tip and a smile.”

“You sent my staff home?”

“Yep.” He nodded and ran a finger down my cleavage. I took a step back and the bar struck the middle of my back.

“Without asking me?”

“Indeed.” He stepped forward and placed his hands on my hips.

“And you expect me to be okay with that?” I was angry. I was the one in control when I was at work. I was the boss, I made the decisions, no one else. I was pissed off but I couldn’t stop myself appreciating his musk-like scent and the bulge in his trousers that he pushed against my hip.

“Not really,” he continued, “but I was hoping that a good shag would make you forget all about it, or at least make you not care about it.” Darren smirked irritatingly and squeezed his hands up over my waist to cup my breasts through the cotton of my work T-shirt.

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” I was losing the plot of why I was mad with him, but I was clinging to the fact that he’d upset me and there must have been a good reason behind it, even if everything within me was crying out for me just to stop thinking and fuck him.

“No, but I’m ever hopeful.”

“Seems that hope’s about to pay off,” I whispered then kissed him. I didn’t have any excuse or any resistance. I shouldn’t have done it, I was sure there was a very good reason to not kiss the hot man in front of me but I couldn’t see it for the hot man in front of me. He tasted delicious. Sweet, salty and addictive. Once I’d started kissing I didn’t want to stop.

He pressed harder against me, ran his hands up under my top and confidently stroked over my cotton-covered breasts. Darren clearly had no doubt he’d get his way. I could sense it in every stroke and in the curve of his smile as we kissed. He was a man used to getting his way and I was no match for his arousal. Strangely, that turned me on all the more. I was happy to be at his mercy. He didn’t use ropes or bindings to tie me down, though. Just the weight of his body against me as he eased his hand down into my work trousers and day-to-day cotton knickers beneath.

“You’re soaked,” his words escaped breathily and tickled my ear. He gently caressed my clitoris. “You’ve wanted this all along, wicked girl.”

I moaned and slumped into him, my legs wobbling beneath me as I forgot to hold up my weight in the onslaught of sexual arousal. I wanted to fight back, insist that I didn’t want him to be taking control in my bar, but I couldn’t get the words out past the tumult of desire that raged through every cell and completely absorbed all the energy of my brain.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he announced and I heard the crinkle of a packet being withdrawn from his trouser pocket. “Turn around.”

He stepped back and I steadied myself with a hand on the bar. After a deep breath I opened my eyes. Darren had unbuckled his belt and his expensive chinos flowed down his legs to pool around his ankles. I could see his erection straining against the cotton of his briefs and I licked my lips in anticipation.

“Come on, turn around,” he growled, “and lose the pants.”

I loved the rough command, though something deep within me prickled at being ordered about in the sanctity of my own place. I bit it down and turned around. I fiddled with the button on my trousers and with trembling fingers freed myself from them and the damp knickers beneath.

“Lean across the bar,” he said at the same time that he grabbed my hip and made me jump. He’d startled me. I hadn’t realised he was so close. I followed his instructions. He played with my arse. He cupped my buttocks in his warm hands then squeezed like he was testing the springiness of a cushion. He traced patterns with his fingertips, dipping into the cleft between my cheeks and tickling at my vulva, teasing and taunting me as I clung onto the wooden edge of the cold bar for dear life. I wanted him to spank me. I remembered back to Paris and Greg’s hard hand imprinting on my soft bottom and I wanted more of that. I tried not to get tied up with guilt at remembering another man while fucking Darren. It was only sex and why shouldn’t I fuck two hot billionaires if I wanted to?

Luckily Darren pushed those thoughts from my mind when he held me open and drove his cock into me. I was disappointed to not feel the sting of his hand on my bum but that was soon overpowered by the satisfaction of having him inside me. My molten heat soon warmed the cooler sheath of the condom covering him and when he moved my juices clung and I could hear the sucking of my eager pussy in the stillness of the empty club.

A lewd, base noise that turned me on, it was soon joined by Darren’s grunts and my own as well as the slap of flesh on flesh when he hammered into me. No finesse, no softness or romance, he just fucked me and I held on tightly as he pounded me. Sparks of semi-orgasms blazed through me. The friction of him at that angle seemed to hit all my internal hotspots and I was gliding on euphoria even though he held my hips in his bruising tight grip to keep his dick deep within me. I felt the spasm and pump of his flesh resting against my sensitised walls and my cunt clutched in time with his release.

He gently stroked my back then pulled away from me. By the time I’d turned around he’d pulled up his trousers and was just pulling his belt tight around his waist. I wasn’t satisfied—yes, I had felt tremors of ecstasy but I needed more. Darren was oblivious to that.

“Fantastic fuck,” he said, dropping the filled condom into the bin beside him. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

He blew me a kiss and walked away.

“Erm, yeah,” I stuttered through my confusion. “See you, Darren.”

I followed him to the door once I’d realised what was happening and I’d pulled myself into my own trousers. I locked the door behind him and finished off the clean-down alone. Darren had dismissed all my staff to shag me but hadn’t bothered to stay to help me clean up the mess that was left after their dismissal. What a selfish fucking bastard.

I thoroughly beat myself up mentally as I mopped, wiped and emptied bins. I ran on empty and stumbled back home. I didn’t remember getting on the Tube. I didn’t remember getting into bed. I slept.

* * * *

The buzzing of the door alarm aroused me. I groaned, rolled over and tried to ignore it but someone had their finger jammed on the button and wasn’t letting go. I looked over at my clock through half-open eyes, blinked and groaned again. It was only eight o’clock
—
that was the middle of the night for a club worker like me.

I stumbled out of bed and stomped to the intercom.

“Yes, what do you want?” I snapped.

“You,” the familiar, deep mellow voice replied. “Good morning, Kerry.”

“Morning, Greg,” I responded sweetly. “Piss off, would you?”

“Aw, come on.” I could hear the pout even if I couldn’t see it. “I came all this way for you, Kerry, please let me in.”