“You started your very own lemonade stand,” he continued, ignoring my protests. “Dominick’s Lemonade, you called it. But no, that wasn’t good enough. Next thing I know, you’ve got half the kids in the old neighborhood, running their own stands and funneling half the profits back to you!” He turned back my way, a carton of strawberries in his hand. “And you know what happened next?”
“Sally Tilson.”
He started chuckling to himself as he tossed the strawberries on the counter. “She opened up her ownpinklemonade stand!” he sputtered between laughs. “Damn near drove you under, and with a better profit margin, too!”
I grabbed a strawberry, biting down into the sweetness and tossing the green crown onto a waiting plate. “I hear she’s trying to be an Instagram model now,” I said. “Very unsuccessfully. But don’t forget, I was nice to Sally. We even worked together the next summer. She just had better ideas than me, and I could respect that. Now Jimmy…”
“You ran his iced tea stand out of business,” he said, concluding the saga of the lemonade stands as he returned to his stool. “And we both know Jimmy deserved it, the way he treated Sally. But don’t change the subject. My point is I’m still not sure why you moved back here for a year.” I started to object that there wasn’t anything more to the decision, but he held his hand firmly in the air, a sign from childhood that I had better let him finish. “You might not admit it to yourself yet, but I know there’s something else going on in that head of yours. Just remember, as you’re searching for what you need, don’t underestimate the people around you.” He plucked a strawberry from the carton, considered it carefully, and then bit down. “After all,” he added. “You’re no less a Denver boy than anyone else here.”
“And that’s the damn truth,” I agreed.
A smile warmed his face, and he turned his attention back out the windows and over the gorgeous landscape that spread behind the house. “Come on, then,” he said abruptly. “Take me on a hike. If you’re going to insist on buying me a place this big, the least you can do is enjoy it with me.”
“Sure thing,” I said, grabbing a couple more strawberries for the trail. “And thanks for the advice.”
He clasped my shoulder, his firm grip burying his fingers into my muscles. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, son,” he said. “I truly couldn’t.”
And damn if that alone wasn’t worth moving across the country for.
* * *
I rapped my knuckles across my desk, peering out the window and across the view of Denver. It was a contemporary office, with walls made of glass and open seating concepts spilled across the sleek hardwood floors.
I hated glass walls. Before a big meeting, the only way I could usually get my heart to stop thumping so damn hard was to lock the door and quietly jerk out a little tension. The release was always explosive and immediate, and with a clear head and a body full of endorphins, I’d charge ahead.
But not when there were clear fucking walls to deal with.
I gripped my pen, trying not to obsess over the guy from the party. I didn’t regret passing him up, knowing I wouldn’t be able to provide what he needed on the other end. But it was a damn shame he wasn’t a bit more experienced.
Because that ass looked fucking amazing.
Spanking had always done something special to me. It was a real chicken and egg situation. If I had been dared in college to tie someone up, would bondage have become my thing? But for whatever reason, the idea of spanking some guy had unleashed my kinky desires for the first time, and over the years, none of the charm had worn off.
A guy’s ass just looked so damn tasty when he was bent over, quivering and shaking for me. And the globes of his cheeks felt like warm butter and ripe peaches when my hand landed across them, sparking his whole body with pleasure and pain. It scratched every one of my kinky itches, from the embarrassment of a man’s pink cheeks to the power of discipline and control.
And there was nothing like sliding my cock across a hot, pink ass, already sizzling and tender for me.
My mind drifted between the stranger at the party and Xavier, looking cute as ever in his candy shop.
So sweet… So tempting…
“Mr. Russo?” My assistant’s voice cut across the room, startling me back to reality. “They’re ready for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, nodding as I grabbed my files. I ordered my cock to stop twitching in my trousers and clicked a few windows closed on my computer.
Those days, my heart didn’t pound because I was scared. It didn’t beat hard because I thought I was going to blow the deal or screw the pooch. My heart thumped because every meeting was another chance to prove myself and to make my mark. Because I was about to claim what I wanted and make it mine.
Because it felt good to win.
I crossed the long hallway and stepped into the conference room, arriving with a handful of representatives of large nonprofit organizations, government agencies, and private corporations. Grabbing a chair toward the end of the table, I accepted the cup of coffee that was brought my way and eyed the pastries.
“You’re taking over the administrative wing of this thing, is that right?” a woman asked, taking the seat next to me. Blonde hair fell beneath her shoulders, tumbling across the pinstripes of her nicely fitted suit. “I’m Patricia Austen. I’m with a marketing and communications firm in town here.”
“That’s right,” I said, offering her my hand. “I’m steering this project, at least in theory. Still getting the lay of the land, though. I’m only recently in town.”
She grabbed a business card from her blazer pocket, sliding it my way with a smooth, rehearsed motion. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ve worked with nearly everyone in this room before. There aren’t very many landmines, but I can help you avoid them.”
I glanced at the card and realized that I recognized her name. “Patricia Austen,” I said. “You’re so modest. As I understand it, you moved a lot of Hollywood money out to Denver. And I believe you’re responsible for some very lucrative marketing campaigns when marijuana was legalized.”
