Hung: A Badboy Romance (6 page)

I wonder if I perhaps went a
little
too far yesterday. I mean, she
does
need to dress a little smarter – something a little more flattering than those rags she had on yesterday – but even so, perhaps the panties were crossing the line. Not to mention that note ...

Maybe I need to cool it. After all, I don’t want to scare her off entirely in her first week. But damn, she’s such a prude. Who could resist having a little fun with her?

I turn my attention back to the screen of my computer, glancing at the little clock in the top right corner. She’s got two minutes and counting to report to my office before she’s officially late for the second day in a row.

As I’m waiting, I open my emails, scanning through for a certain reply in particular.

I pump my fist when I see the exact email I’ve been hoping for. Then an mischievous idea springs into my head.

Oh yes,
I think.
I’m gonna have a little fun with this one ...

Just then the doors to my office slam open, and there’s a woman standing there – a woman who, for a half second, I don’t even recognize – before I realize that wow, it’s Stacey, and she’s actually
dressed in the clothes I picked out
, right down to those sexy-as-hell Louboutin heels.

I can’t help but smile.

And holy shit, she actually looks pretty damn
good
...

“Nice outfit,” I say. I can’t help myself.

“Whatever,” she murmurs, before strutting into the office. I watch her closely, and sure enough, there’s a half-second when it looks like she’s gonna stumble. I just knew a girl like Stacey wasn’t used to shoes that tall. But for the most part she actually manages to keep upright. I’m begrudgingly impressed.

“I have a job for you,” I say, once she’s sat down opposite me. “This is top priority, ahead of whatever tasks Elizabeth has set out for you today.”

I leave a little pause, just long enough to keep her hanging. Then I say it.

“Have you heard of Magdalena Cortez?”

She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow.

“Should I?” 

Her ignorance doesn’t surprise me. After all, Stacey’s never exactly been the fashion type, has she?

“Magdalena Cortez,” I inform her, “is only one of the world’s hottest models right now ... In fact ...” 

I slide open my desk drawer and remove the latest issue of GQ, on the cover of which advertises a feature about
The Top 100 Hottest Women in the World.
I let the magazine fall open, right there on number nine. I tap on her picture – a picture of Magdalena Cortez lying on the beach, her golden skin flecked with sand, her cotton dress soaked right through, showing off her perfectly proportioned body – before sliding the magazine across the desk so Stacey can get an even better look.

“
That’s
her,” I say. “And she’s just this moment emailed to let me know that she’s in London tonight and has agreed to have dinner with me.”

“Congratulations,” Stacey says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, like she doesn’t car in the slightest about my date with Magdalena. But the way she shifts slightly in her seat tells me a very different story.

“As my PA, its your job to get me table at the Ivy
and
a suite at the Dorchester. For tonight.”

“Yes,
boss
,” she drawls, and for a moment I think about giving her another talking to; telling her that if she’s working for me, she needs to behave a little more professionally. But instead, I decide to let it go. For now.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” I say. “Get on with it.”

As she pushes herself to her feet and makes to leave, I can’t help but check out her ass, shown off so perfectly by that criminally short, figure-hugging leather mini skirt. The words leap from my lips before I’ve even had a chance to realize what I’m saying: “So ... Are you wearing
everything
I picked out for you?”

“I
beg
your pardon?” she gasps, turning back to face me, eyes flashing with anger in that way I always enjoy.

“You heard me loud and clear,” I say in the same slow, deliberate tone as before. “
Are you wearing everything I chose for you
?”

She locks eyes with me. Something changes in her face. I can tell from her breathing and from the slight flush rising up from beneath her silk blouse, and from the prominent points of her nipples that she’s getting turned on.

“That’s none of your goddamn business,” she says, her voice shaking a little now, and despite what she’s saying, it’s totally obvious that my dominance is getting her hot.

We stay like that for just a moment, the silence pulsing between us, eyes locked, stalemate.

Then she quickly turns and almost runs out of my office, the heavy wooden doors slamming closed behind her. 

Once I’m all alone in my office, I ease back in my chair as a wicked grin spreads across my lips.

I think I’m going to enjoy this ...

I rush out of the meeting on shaky legs. They feel like they’re gonna buckle underneath me, and it’s not just from these stupidly high Louboutin heels, either. Its from the way he just spoke to me. That commanding tone in his voice. That power. That
dominance
. Fuck. I can’t help it. It turns me on, despite myself. Always has. Ever since that afternoon, back when we were teenagers, back when I heard him speaking that way with Kelly Rogers ...

And right now I can hardly even think straight anymore. My heart’s still pounding, my nipples are so fucking hard they
hurt
and I can feel the insistent throb of my clit, too. No, I can’t take this. I need to get him out of my goddamn head – right fucking
now
.

I quickly scan the large open plan office, before registering the sign for the bathrooms. As calmly and collectedly as I can, I head towards it, feeling so damn
exposed
in this tiny little outfit, even if I do fit in much more with all the other girls in the office now.

Finally I reach the door to the bathrooms and quickly step inside, glad to find that I’m alone in this large wood-paneled room, a row of faucets and mirrors along one wall, toilet stalls on the other.

I quickly lock myself in the very farthest stall, and then, as soon as I’m safely on my own, I pull my mini skirt up around my waist with trembling fingers. The moment I slip my hand into my panties – the skimpy white panties that
he
chose for me – I feel the sticky heat of my own wetness, not to mention the sheer swollen hardness of my clit too. I let out a soft whimper as my fingertips brush across it, my eyes closing, my mind filling with images of him: of what I imagine his body would be like these days, no doubt even more toned, more muscular than I remember it ...

And I imagine that it’s
his
hand between my legs, working me now in fast, insistent circles, the electricity in my tummy building and building as I imagine kneeling before him in that office of his, unzipping his fly, unleashing his thick hard cock, taking him in my hands, my mouth, my pussy, my ass ...

I move my other hand to my mouth, sucking on my fingers to muffle the cry I make as I come, my bare buttocks pressing back against the cool wood of the bathroom stall, my fingers plunging deep into my clenching pussy.

God damn you, Colt
, I think as I return to my senses afterwards, my whole body still trembling from the sheer force of my orgasm.

I fucking hate you. 

§

“So, how’s everything?” Mom asks excitedly. “I hope Colt’s being a friend as well as a boss? I told him to look after my little girl ...”

Even though it’s only been a few days since I last saw her, it feels so good to hear Mom’s voice again. I lie back on the big bed, surrounded by pillows, wishing she was here in this room with me to give me one of her famous hugs. And this phone call, while squeezing one of the nearby pillows, is about the best I’m going to get. But how the hell do I respond to her question? I can’t tell her how I really feel about Colt. I barely know myself. I just know that the whirl of emotions that dance through my head every time I see him makes me giddy ...

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say
friend
,” I sigh. “He’s very professional. But remember, Mom. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to sort my life out. So I guess you could say he’s whipping me into shape ...”

Goddamn it. Why did I say
that
?!

Because the image of Colt whipping me is all I can think of right now.

I’m so frustrated. I just wishing I could tell Mom the truth. That I have a major crush on him.

But as always, I know that there’s
nobody
I can talk to about this stupid fucking thing I’ve had for my stepbrother, ever since I first laid eyes on him.

So, as always, I just tell my mom a bunch of lies, making out that everything is going great.

But deep down, I’m worried. Worried that I don’t have enough strength to resist him for too much longer. Worried because things are different now; now that we’re both adults. Its way more intense – and way more
dangerous.
It’s like he has this crazy power over me; a power that I’m struggling to resist.

When I was just his kid stepsister, I was out of bounds. But the way he’s behaving, like buying me that lingerie, makes me think he’s redrawing the boundaries.

I don’t know what kind of fucking game he’s playing. I just know that I’m not in control.

I hate you so much, Colt Grayson
, I think.
Almost as much as I want you.

“Oh baby,” Magdalena purrs in that sexy Spanish accent of hers, “that was
incrrrredible
...”

I glance over at her, lying there next to me, her smooth golden skin bathed in sweat, the early morning sunlight flooding the room and shining in the sumptuous curls of her hair. I’ve just fucked the most beautiful woman in the world. I should be happy right now. I should be over the fucking moon. So why do I still feel so ...
empty
?

“I just can’t seem to get enough of you ... Enough of this. It’s just so
huuuuge ...
” she murmurs huskily, as her hand once more disappears beneath the sheets, sliding over my abs, straight towards my cock. But as she begins to slowly stroke me, working me up to full hardness for the
third
time this morning, I stop her, reaching down and grabbing her wrist.

“That’s enough,” I say, gently pulling her hand away. “You’ve had your fun. It’s almost eight. I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Call in sick,” she whispers in my ear, nestling up close to me, her hand once more slipping between my legs. “Stay here with me today. We’ll call room service. Champagne and oysters. We don’t need to leave this bed
all day
baby ... ”

But I shake my head, sitting up in bed, pushing the sheets off me as I look around at this hotel room – the hotel room that
Stacey
booked.

And if I’m honest, this isn’t the only time that Stacey’s entered my head in the last twenty four hours. Who am I trying to kid? Even as I was
fucking
Magdalena, I found myself thinking about her. It’s like she’s infected me. And sure, while it was fun last night, right now I need to get out of here. I need to get to the office. Do my job. Take control again. And most of all I need Magdalena to leave me the fuck alone.

“Come back here,” she purrs from behind me, her hands slipping beneath my arms and exploring my chest, as she tries to urge me back down into bed with her.

“Fun’s over,” I say coldly, pulling away, standing now, catching a glimpse of my sculpted naked body in the nearby mirror, the patchwork of tattoos snaking from my upper arms, over my shoulders and down onto my abs.

“
Please
baby?” she coos. “I just can’t seem to get enough of you ...”

I turn back around to face her, looking down at her, sprawled on the bed, totally naked, every man’s fantasy, right? But in that moment, I realize I feel absolutely
nothing
for her. And right now, I think I need to be cruel to be kind ...