“I’ll just go and wait in the foyer for you, Ms. Gigioliotti,” says Avery.
Turning to give him a sweet smile, she says pointedly, “Thank you, Avery. I’d like to give you the courtesy of being well-informed. I’ll be going to meet the girls for Stella’s famous Better Than Cock Cocktails after this meeting. I believe we’re going to Marco and Sophia’s house. Do you have his address?”
I choke on my saliva and cough, while Avery just rolls his lips and gives a silent nod before retreating.
Lucky bastard. Me, not so much.
“Is there a problem?”
“Bit early for hair of the dog, don’t you think?”
“That’s not what I’ll be drinking. I’ll be having Better Than Coc?—”
“You do not need to repeat it,” I say, wishing she would stop saying the word cock. Especially in that raspy, low voice. “I got it the first time. I’m simply suggesting you might want to slow down on the alcohol after last night.”
“Raf—do you mind if I call you that? Or perhaps Daddy would be more fitting as you continue to feel the need to scold me.” Her eyes bore into me, and I glare back. “Not a fan of Daddy? Fine. Then I’d say we’re at least on a first-name basisseeing as I had a sleepover and saw your show in the shower but did the courteous thing and left you to it.”
This fucking woman. The urge to beat her at her own game is bubbling within, but I choose to ignore her needling and the urge to show her who’s boss, going for matter-of-fact instead. “No, you may not call me Raf, Daddy, or any other nickname you think will get under my skin. You’re a client now, and I prefer to stick with formalities with clients.”
“Except you told Avery to tell me you’re too busy to take me on as a client. Thrilled to know that you’ve been able to get me on the roster.” She gives me a devious smirk, like she’s just called me out at my own game. Which she kind of has, but I take the moment to pause before speaking again, turning over in my mind the best way to let her down. But I don’t get a chance before she speaks again, reaching into her large Chanel tote bag before she does.
“Now, before we get to business, I have a gift for you,” she says, clutching a black rectangular box with an embossed black ribbon.
“I can’t accept gifts from clients.”
“I haven’t signed anything yet, so technically I’m not a client,” she retorts, placing the box on my desk before pulling herself up to sit on the edge of my desk, her body angled towards me. She locks her moss-green eyes on mine and unbelievably remains silent, though the intensity of her gaze screams for my attention. Against my better judgement, I give it to her, and she takes full advantage of my moment of weakness, making a show of slowly parting her legs to expose the creamy skin of her inner thigh and a flash of red lace under her micro-mini before dragging her right leg and crossing it over her left. Her skirt is so short it remains hiked high, an indecent amount of skin on show. Flashes of her swathed in my T-shirt and sleeping soundly, hair fanned out around her, choose this moment toresurface. I clench my jaw in a bid to tamp down the surge of energy to another part of me begging to spring to life. Again.
“Besides, I’m sure with all your lawyer-ly wisdom, you’d be able to find a loophole,” she states nonchalantly, like she didn’t just try toBasic Instinctme.
“You’re absolutely right. You haven’t signed anything, and I’ve got a good sense to refuse you.”
She hums. “On what grounds?”
“Indecent behavior.”
She throws her head back and laughs before fixing her eyes back on me and taking aim.
“Indecent behavior, huh? Hmmm. Let me ask you, would you call sneaking off to screw your secret fuck buddy while your friends drink in her bar indecent?”
I don’t answer, instead moving closer to the door, but I don’t dare take my eyes off her. She’s edging into dangerous territory, one where I give her the version of me she thinks she wants.
She huffs a laugh, like she thinks she’s got me, and it only spurs her on.
“Or perhaps fucking your hand in the shower while I was in your house? Would you consider that indecent.”
BOOM!
I kick the door shut with the flick of my foot and stalk towards her, wordlessly unbuttoning my shirt as I go. Her eyes flare, and she pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth, wriggling her ass back on the desk. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s trying to find friction or if she thinks that will keep me from getting to her. The room feels like it grew three times smaller. I shouldn’t be adding gasoline to the lit match, but it appears that shock therapy is the only way to shut this woman up.
When I reach her, she looks up at me in challenge but doesn’t utter a word.
“You want me to show you indecent before we make this client-attorney agreement final and formalized?”
“Do. Your. Fucking. Worst,” she bites back. The mixed bag of emotions rioting inside me since her arrival finally spills over. Irritation, affection, lust, sexual frustration, indignation, and concern for her fate spur me on to make what I know is probably one of the biggest fucking mistakes of my life. She underestimated how my need for control can force me to spin out of control too. There’s no stopping this runaway train now that it’s in motion. I need to show her we play by my rules or we don’t play at all.
I make quick work of undoing the gold buttons that run down the front of her knit top and drop it on the floor. She’s wearing a thin, red lace bra that barely contains her full, round tits. I’ve never considered myself a boob man, but there’s no denying hers are stellar and begging to be used and fucked.Not the point of this exercise, I remind myself as I crowd her, forcing her to lean back on her hands, which only accentuates her assets and puts her pebbled nipples visible through the sheer fabric on full display. My cock thickens at the feel of her peaked bud grazing my skin.
“First, if you want to take a leaf out of Sharon Stone’s book, do it properly,” I demand as I run my hand up her inner thigh and roughly uncross her legs, spreading her wide and letting my fingers lightly rest over the apex of her thighs. Even through the fabric of her skirt, I can feel the heat radiating from the spot I knew would be throbbing for me. I squeeze my hand around her thigh, fully aware of the contrast between her silky skin and my calloused palm. She looks at where we’re connected, the quickened rise and fall of her chest a sign my plan is working just like I intended.
