Money Shot (73 page)

“Ah, that’s the stuff…I ask you, what’s the point of killing yourself to maintain a multi-billion dollar fortune if you’re not going to get your dick sucked when you get home?” He looked down at Miriam casually as if addressing a waitress or other attendant during any casual conversation, as though he were merely getting on a plane or ordering food. She met his gaze, his deep eyes looking into her as if seeing into her soul, and saw he expected an answer; without removing him from her mouth, she shrugged her shoulders and grunted “Mm-mmph” in a manner that she hoped communicated
Hell if I know, sir, some people don’t know how good they have it
. She wasn’t sure whether he understood her intention or not, but he smiled down at her, cupped the back of her head with his calloused but perfectly manicured hand, and nodded, “That’s right, you get it. Good girl.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a rictus of a smile, dripping with his precum, and Steve grinned back at her. “Alright honey, now that we’ve got the flag raised to full mast, let’s not dally bringing the ships into the harbor, so to speak. You follow me, girl?”

She nodded, tightening her already strained lips around his cock in answer and gripping as firmly as she was able.

Richard’s father leaned back, sinking deeply into his chair, letting all the muscles in his legs relax as he allowed the weight of his body to press his throbbing dick even deeper into Miriam’s mouth; she felt her throat muscles protest against the size of the intrusion, but silenced their complaints and loosed her neck, allowing him to slide completely inside her as she concentrated on breathing through her nose even as it sank deep into the rich thicket around the base of his cock. She held him there for a moment, reveling in the full length of him buried in her windpipe before ever so slowly easing his manhood back out of her gullet a millimeter at a time, until she felt its pulsing head press against the back of her lips--then she plunged him forcefully back down her raw, gaping passage until he was once again sheathed within her throat, his now-damp tufts of pubic hair tickling her lips as she struggled to keep him down.

Again she swallowed him, and again, and a third time, and she very nearly retched despite herself as his cock stiffened to an iron hardness, stretching her delicate trachea beyond anything she ever thought herself capable of--but she forced the involuntary response down, and suffused with pleasure, redoubled her efforts, gulping his monstrous dick into her maw until she thought it would tear through her larynx, her nose aching from slamming into his muscular pelvis.

Just when Miriam felt her resolve beginning to weaken despite herself, Steve suddenly leaned forward, grabbed her head with both hands, and pulled her face down onto his cock as he pushed forward into her with all the force in his body, his dick completely engulfed within her, her face pressed deeply into his crotch, smelling his sweaty mandom in every pore of her body. He held her there motionless, his member a part of her as surely as her heart or lungs, smiled and allowed himself to climax, filling her throat and lubricating her rubbed-raw tissues with the sweet relief of his rich, syrupy come.

Even as he released his essence into her, he held her head, his eyes staring deep into hers, every molecule of his being establishing dominance over her as if to let her know that while he had allowed her to bring him to ecstasy, she still did so at his whim, and just because she had succeeded did not give her the upper hand; he was still in control, and would remain so.

“Good girl,” he said, “good girl.” Without breaking his gaze, he spurted within her again, then a third and final time, relieving the last of the pressure within his balls, finally sated. Without releasing Miriam’s head, he eased himself back out of her mouth; she felt surprised at how empty she felt without his pressure filling her up, but the flood of delicious come washing around on her tongue was nearly enough to compensate.

As if sensing her thoughts, he looked down into her eyes and nodded; understanding his intention, she flexed the aching muscles of her throat and swallowed, then again, gulping the last of his precious gift down into her yearning belly.

“There you go, good girl. There you go.” Withdrawing a pair of linen handkerchiefs, he held one around his dripping, sated cock while graciously extending one out to her. “Here, clean yourself up.” She took it and dabbed delicately at the mouth, noting the elegantly inlaid initials threaded into the soft, silky fabric, as Steve raised himself from his chair, towering above her. “Well, that’s the weekend off to a start!” He stretched, as if suddenly aware of the weight of his body again, and sniffed his own armpit with disdain. “Ugh.” He called out loudly and clearly, obviously accustomed to having his every passing thought monitored and indulged quickly and quietly by his highly trained staff: “Winston, run me a warm bath, please, I need to wash the stink of this week off me--and have two masseuses prepared in about a half an hour.” He started to reach down to his pants, then stopped as if remembering something, raised back up and addressed his family. “Richard, isn’t there something you need to help your mother with in the other room?”

Richard!
The name shot through Miriam’s head like a flare gun. She’d almost managed to put him out of her mind, so fulfilled was she serving at his father’s behest, but now the worry filled her head with fear. What must he think of her now? Timidly, she wiped the last of his father’s juices from her chin with his luxurious handkerchief, raised herself from the floor at the foot of his father’s chair and turned back to her beloved--only to see the back of Richard’s head disappearing down the hall, his mother leading him by the hand. Pulling him, really.

Behind her, Steve pulled his pants back up, refastened them lazily, and sighed in relief. “Ahh, thank fucking Christ it’s the weekend. Anyway, kids, I’m gonna head up and give myself a good soak in the tub, get some of these kinks in my back worked out, and decompress until dinner. Richard and your mother are going to be busy for a bit as well, so it’s going to be up to the four of you to entertain yourselves. You think you can handle that?”

Miriam looked over at Evan, Graham, and Cassie; six eyes burned back into her, lupine and raw with carnivorous intent. It was Cassie who answered: “Oh, don’t worry yourself one bit, father. We can handle…everything.”

“Good. See you at dinner.” And with that, he was gone, and she was alone with three strangers that just watched her swallow a massive load of their father’s come within herself, the same fluid that had given them life. And while Miriam never would have expected what had happened so far…not even the devil himself could have guessed what would happen next.

ABOUT JANESSA DAVENPORT

Indiana native Janessa Davenport discovered her passion for writing at a young age and learned the craft of storytelling at her grandmother’s side, first with children’s books but soon moving on to steamier fare. When not enjoying fine Italian food or tirelessly supporting her favorite hometown high school sports teams (Go Bulldogs!), Janessa can be found rambling around her farm, trying to corral her two wonderful boys Kody and Jaxson, or playing with her golden retriever Lucky and her three cats Louie, Sparkle, and Righty.

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“Almost there,” he muttered, his fingers flying. “Almost have you…”

Marcus Hawkins hunched over his keyboard, determined to find every last back door his former programmer buried in their latest software. Damned if he’d let the snot-nosed kid worm his way in and play havoc.

Everything around him became white noise when he focused on code. His brother Graham teased him about it, and told him once even a naked woman begging him to take her didn’t stand a chance when he had code in front of him.

“Not that bad,” he muttered. It just took all his attention, all his focus—

Her scent hit him a second before she spoke. Floral, with an edge of spice.

“Mr. Hawkins.” His assistant, Leah Frane, stood in front of his desk. The tone of her husky voice told him she’d said his name more than once. “Your phone is ringing. Again. It’s your brother.”

“Thanks.” Still staring at the screen, he groped across his desk for the phone. “What?”

“Don’t put yourself out, Marcus.”

“I’m working, and I have a deadline. Spit it out, Graham.”

“Your presence is required at the charity event tonight.”

“What charity…” His mind caught up with him, and he slumped in his chair. “Is that tonight?”

“Shutting out the world is never to your advantage, Marcus, when you have responsibilities—”

“I got it, Graham. No brotherly lecture necessary. What about Elias? He can represent—”

“Elias is in Europe, dealing with issues.”

“Right.”

Marcus rubbed his forehead. Even though he was the youngest, Elias had the most experience handling the often stiff-necked board members in their foreign office. It helped that he also spoke fluent French.

Graham’s voice jerked him back. “Since Elias is unavailable, both Father and the board expect you to be there. I expect you to be there. With a date.” He sounded smug as hell when he said the last part.

Relief flooded Marcus when he remembered he did make a date, with his stand by. “Cassie is coming with me.”

“Really?” Marcus did not like the smirk in his brother’s voice. “I understand she accepted a modeling job. In Paris. Find another date, baby brother.”

Graham hung up before Marcus could start cursing. So he started by cursing his former date.

“Damn it! She had to pick tonight to skip out on me.”

He slammed the phone down so hard he expected the handset to shatter. A sharp gasp froze his fist right above the desk. He’d forgotten Leah was still in the office. With a mental curse he looked up, and his breath lodged in his throat.

His usually buttoned up assistant had taken off her hip length, squared off jacket at some point, revealing a blue and white striped blouse, the hem loose over her too long, too boxy blue skirt. He had never seen so much of her skin before.

She crossed her arms, which only accentuated her high, firm breasts. His cock stood at attention, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Marcus had been fantasizing about his curvy little assistant since the first day she walked into his office. So proper, so sensible, so damn sexy because of it.

He ran one hand through his already disheveled black hair, and let out a sigh, staring at his computer screen. What the hell was he supposed to do about tonight? Graham would gloat, publicly, if he showed up solo. The board approved of his new tech startup—especially since he was raking in more each month than the family business—but his years as a playboy still rankled, and they wanted proof that he had actually changed.

Leah cleared her throat. “If that’s all, Mr. Hawkins, I should get back to my desk. I have several letters to finish before I leave.”

The obvious answer stood right in front of him.

“I have a question first.” He looked up in time to see the nerves before she managed to hide them.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

She stared at him. The faint blush coloring her cheeks turned him on. Damn it, why did she have to work for him? He had a strict rule about dating staff. Especially staff who would be gun shy of his former, well-deserved reputation.

“I—” She took a deep breath, her blouse outlining those luscious breasts. His cock became painfully hard. “I have plans.”

He stood, moving to her. She stumbled back, and trapped herself against the wall. This time the blush bloomed across her pale skin. She clutched the notepad in her hand to her chest, probably thinking it protected her. All that did was draw his attention to the way her blue striped blouse hiked up, revealing one shapely hip, and the soft curve of her belly. What he could see of her legs under that ugly skirt had his cock throbbing.

It was time to do a little pushing. Just enough to force her hand—and not send her screaming out of his office.

He rubbed at his stubble, kept his gaze on her flushed face. “Important plans?”

She took another deep breath and met his eyes. “Yes.”

Marcus wanted to soothe her obvious anxiety. Instead, he played his trump card. “More important than a charity auction, where The Hawkins Group’s reputation is on the line?”

Her shoulders slumped. “No.”

She looked so—alarmed. Marcus would have let her off the hook, but he only had a few hours to find another date. He needed—respectable. He needed the no-nonsense woman standing in front of him.

Besides, the chance to peel her out of her hideous suit and into a sleek gown that revealed what he expected hid under all that fabric—oh, that was too tempting to pass up.

“Yes,” he muttered, scanning her from the toes of her sensible black heels to the tight bun hiding her brown hair. She obviously didn’t know that several curly tendrils had escaped, tracing the graceful line of her neck. Marcus wanted to see the rest, tumbling over her bare, pale skin. “You’ll do.”

“For what?” She whispered the two words, clutching her notepad like it was a lifeline.

This was going to be an interesting evening.

“My date.”

No. No no
no no—

Leah slid along the wall, trying to reach the door. Marcus paced her, like a big, graceful cat tracking his prey. And that’s what she felt like—prey.

“Mr. Hawkins—”

“Marcus.” He stepped between her and her goal, crossing his arms “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t like formality.”

She loved it, especially with him. It kept him at a distance. Untouchable. She needed him to be untouchable. Former bad boy, gorgeous heartbreaker—God, she couldn’t survive another heartbreaker.

“I can’t,” she said. “You’re my boss, and it’s such an important event, I wouldn’t—” She cut herself off.

“Wouldn’t what, Leah?” The way he said her name made her shiver. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass me?”

He moved to her and leaned in, those dark blue eyes intense, so close his breath warmed her cheek. Too close. She could smell his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and some warm musk that made her want to sniff his neck—and the rest of him. While he was naked.

Stop it.

His deep voice wrapped around her. “You have too much class to embarrass me. Do you have a gown suitable for black tie?”

She swallowed, incredibly aware of him. “No,” she whispered.

“I will have something sent to your apartment.”

Oh, God.

“Mr. Hawkins—”

“Go finish the letters, then head home, Leah. You have a party to get ready for.”

“But—”

“I will have a car sent for you at seven.”

“But—”

He caught her around the waist and turned her to the door, letting his hands slide down to her hips before he gently pushed her out of his office and shut the door in her face.

Shit. Holy shit.

Leah had a date with her boss.

Marcus strode back to his desk and called his sister’s friend Fantine before he forgot the feel of Leah under his hands. Fantine was the only girlfriend of Hope’s who had never hit on him. He always appreciated that, and they became friends over shared remarks about drooling girls and overzealous advances.

“What, Marcus?”

“Hello to you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” A long, dramatic sigh flowed out of the speaker. “I am having employee issues. Know anyone with impeccable organization skills that’s also reliable and doesn’t have a new boyfriend every other week?”

Marcus smiled, since she couldn’t see him. “Lost another assistant?”

“God—why are the creative ones so damn flaky? What did you want?”

“I need that favor you owe me.”

“Yes?” Caution edged the drawn out word.