Breaking All the Rules (3 page)

“Dollar bills; how quaint,” I quip, selecting a single twenty-dollar bill, thinking this should be payment enough. The hookers on TV charge by the hour and Nate won’t last long, his body already primed for my touch.

I slowly slide his wallet into his pocket, pressing my fingers against him, teasing him, tormenting him. Nate shudders, his reaction immediate and gratifying.

“Don’t come yet.” I grin as I withdraw my hand. “I want you to get your money’s worth.” I unbutton my blazer and tuck the twenty-dollar bill into my corset. “There are no refunds.”

Nate frowns, his gaze lingering on my breasts. “The others charge—”

I cover his grim lips with my right index finger. “I don’t want to hear another word about the other women and what they charge or what they do.” His eyes flash, bolts of lightning surging through his darkened irises. “They run their businesses their way. I run my business my way.” I sweep my fingertip over his lips back and forth, back and forth. His breath blows tantalizingly hot against my skin. “This is a deposit. I’ll collect the remaining balance after the transaction is completed.”

I drift my hands over his suit-clad chest, relishing his firm muscle and solid form. “There will be none of that pay-in-sixty-days nonsense either.” I swirl my fingers over his slim sleek belt buckle. “I expect immediate cash.” I release his belt and he inhales sharply, his body shaking.

“I want cold hard cash.” I stroke Nate through his pants, the rigid proof of his desire giving me confidence. He leans against the wall, pushing his hips forward, silently granting me permission to touch him.

I unzip him, the rasping sound loud in the quiet room, a declaration of erotic intention. He’s mine for now, this stern serious man. I push his black pants and pristine white boxer shorts down to his knees, revealing the bloom of his cock head and his slightly curved shaft.

“Ahhh . . . so this is the true you, Nate.” I trace his cock and he bobs. “You’re not as straight as you want everyone to believe.” I close my fingers around him, his veins pulsing under my fingertips. “You have some kink in you, don’t you?”

His gaze lifts to my green hair. “Yes,” he admits, his deep voice making my stomach flutter.

“I thought so.” I pump him slowly, firmly, relishing the control I have over him, over his satisfaction. “Does it arouse you, knowing that outside this room employees are sitting at their desks, making business calls, sending e-mails?” I lean into him, lowering my voice. “They have no idea their CFO is being sexually serviced by a cock-loving intern, that my small pale fingers are wrapped around your big hard shaft, that I’m fucking you with my hands, wishing you were inside me.”

Nate groans softly. “I won’t last long.” A bead of pre-cum forms on his tip.

“I don’t expect you to last long this first time.” I brush my thumbs over him, spreading his essence, his skin glistening, his scent musky and male. “In the future you’ll come only when I tell you to, understand?” He doesn’t answer, his big chest rising and falling. “Understand?” I squeeze his base, my punishment pulling a sexy rumble from his lips, unlocking his last mental door.

“I understand.” His eyes blaze with unguarded desire, his emotions opened to me, his soul exposed.

“Good.” I run my hands up and down him, rewarding him for his concession. “You may be paying me, but I’m in control of our fuckfests. You don’t know what you need. I do.” Nate rocks into my hands. He needs to be pushed and I’m the woman to do it, to free him from his self-imposed incarceration. “I’m a professional.” I smile at him, enjoying this new game, my authority over his body making me hot.

Nate grunts, the veins on his neck lifting, his golden skin covered with the sheen of perspiration. His hands are clenched into tight fists, his arms remaining by his sides.

“You can touch me if you wish.” I arch my back, drawing his attention to my breasts. They ache for his fingers, my nipples painfully tight.

“Can’t.” Nate grimaces, moving faster against me, the muscles in his upper thighs flexing.

He can’t touch me without losing control. This is how much he wants me.

“That’s too bad.” I roll his balls with my fingers, feeling strong, powerful, womanly. “My pussy is slick and wet, yearning to be filled with a big hard cock.” I rub my thighs together, skin sliding over skin. “Can’t you smell my need?”

“Yes.” Nate inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring. “God, yes.” He thrusts his hips again and again, humping my hand with an exciting savagery, his eyes feral and his motions erratic.

I match his intensity, tightening my grip on his cock, and this makes him wilder, his rhythm becoming grueling and harsh. Everyone else sees the cool, passionless Iceman. This is the true Nathan Lawford, this hot ardent man struggling to reach sexual satisfaction.

“Can’t last,” he huffs. “Need.”

“Then take what you need.” I grab a couple of tissues and cover his tip. “Come for me, Nate.” I close the fingers of my left hand around his balls, ruthlessly pushing him toward completion.

Nate throws his head back and roars, driving his hips forward. I gaze at him with wonder, the force of his release awe-inspiring. Hot jets of cum pulse into the tissues, every surge draining more and more tension from his body.

Nate thrusts once, twice, shudders and stumbles backward, his shoulders smacking against the wall. He splays his fingers over the gray-painted surface, holding on, his eyes closed and his jaw relaxed.

I clean him carefully, lovingly. My neat executive doesn’t like a mess. I toss the tissues into the wastebasket and pull up his boxer shorts and his pants, dressing him, restoring his armor of perfection, closing some of his doors.

“There.” I pat his heaving chest. “You must feel better now, with all of that stress released.” My frustration remains, my body throbbing with need.

Red streaks across Nate’s cheeks. “I lost control.” His voice is quiet.

“Good.” I lean into him, pressing my hips against his. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t wrap his arms around me. “That means I’m doing my job.”

Nate opens his eyes, his expression glacier. “I never lose control.”

He never loses control yet he lost control with me. I don’t dare show my jubilation. My inflexible executive is perilously close to walking away from me, the source of his forbidden feelings.

“If you never lost control with the other women, then you never found true sexual release with them.” I flatten my fingers over his jacket lapels, touching him, savoring him, not knowing if I’ll get another chance, if he’ll ever allow me to handle his big body again. “That must have been frustrating for you.”

Lines etch between Nate’s eyebrows.

“You won’t have to worry about that with me,” I assure him, giving him a cocky grin, high on my success. “With me you’ll always lose control.” I slip my hand into the pocket of his pants. “I know what you need, what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Every time.” I caress him through the fabric, sweeping my fingers along his hip as I remove his wallet.

“But my services aren’t free.” I study the wad of bills. How much money does an escort charge for a hand job? I chew on my bottom lip, having no idea. Twenty dollars hadn’t been enough. I glance at Nate, hoping to read the answer in his eyes.

He sighs and takes the wallet from me, extracts an obscene amount of money. “This should settle my outstanding account.” He holds out the bills.

I take the money, my heart pounding, and count it, curious about the amount. His outstanding account is more than I make in an entire day working at Blaine Technologies. I swallow my surprise and feign a frown. “You overpaid by twenty dollars.” I return one of the bills to him.

Nate’s lips twitch as he closes his fingers around the money. “I can’t overpay. Pricing is determined by supply and demand. How did you pass your college economics class?”

How does he know I took an economics class at college? I tuck the remaining bills into my corset. “I gave the prof the answers I thought a normal person would.” I glance at my phone. It’s five minutes to one o’clock. “You have a meeting now so I’ll forgive you this first time. But during future appointments I also expect to come.”

Nate tilts his chin upward. “I’ve had no complaints.”

“Until now.” I plant my hands on my hips and glare up at him, the thought of him pleasuring other women irritating me. “Did you even kiss me, Nate? Touch me? Hookers have needs too.”

He frowns. “All of the other women asked that I not kiss them.”

Don’t kiss the clients. Maintain some professional distance. I recall hearing that in a movie. “I run my business my way.” I struggle to maintain my outraged expression. “And I like to be kissed. I—”

Nate hooks his arms around my waist, pulls me to him and captures my lips. I gasp, the force of his kiss driving my head back, and he surges inside me, sliding his tongue along mine. I cling to his shoulders as he explores, branding, owning my mouth, devouring me with an unmatched hunger, as though he hasn’t tasted a woman in years.

Because he hasn’t tasted a woman in years, perhaps in decades. I soften against him, shocked by this revelation. Escorts prefer not to be kissed and Nate has never been linked to anyone else. I suck on his tongue and he groans, rubbing his hands over my back, pressing my breasts against his chest.

I yield completely to Nate, giving him everything I have, the connection between us strengthening. This is why escorts don’t kiss their clients. This intimacy is dangerous, something to be feared. I know no such caution, my reckless heart pushing me forward. I thread my fingers through Nate’s short soft hair, and he cups my ass, lifting me into him, fusing our bodies together.

His breath wafts against my cheeks. His distinctive scent, his tantalizing body heat surrounds me. My lips hum and my jaw aches. I’ve never been kissed like this before, to the exquisite point of pain.

“You didn’t lie in the elevator.” Nate licks my throbbing bottom lip. “You do taste delicious.” He mouths over my chin. “Spicy, hot, and exotic.” He pulls on my skin.

His chest vibrates, his phone reminding him of his upcoming meeting.

“You have to go.” I say what he won’t. “We’ll set up another appointment.” I push him for a second encounter, knowing he’ll rebuff my offer, telling me one time with freak-of-the-week Camille is enough.

“I’ll set up the appointment.” Nate lowers me until my feet touch the carpet. He’ll set up the appointment. I stare at him, stunned. He wants to see me again. “We’ll negotiate the contract then,” he adds.

“The contract?” My spine straightens. “Hell to the no.” I shake my head vigorously. “I don’t do contacts.” Contracts are a means of control. No one controls me.

“The contract can be ended at any time,” Nate assures me. “We’ll lay down some rules. There will be no more unmet expectations.” He sweeps one of his thumbs over my kiss-swollen lips, attempting to soothe me with his seductive touch.

I can’t be soothed. I’m strong, independent, free. “I don’t do rules either.” I step backward, away from him, away from temptation.

“The contract benefits you.” The dogged determination reflected in Nate’s eyes worries me. “It’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need to be protected.” Especially not from him. Nate is one of the most honorable men I know. “And I certainly don’t need a contract.”

“Miss Trent . . .”

“No contracts, Nate.” I open the door and step into the hallway. The air is cooler, clearing my passion-fogged brain, forcing me to face my new reality. Blaine Technologies’ sexy young CFO paid me for sex. I’m officially his prostitute, his lady of the evening, his money honey.

I still can’t figure out why this is a bad thing.

All I know is that Nate wants to see me again. I walk away, my head held high and my hips swaying. He wants me.

The tall, dark-haired lawyer Miss Yen hired to help with the Volkov merger strides toward me. He normally ignores me, the lowly intern. Today he treats me to one of his slimy thousand-dollar smiles, his gaze fixed on my bountiful bosom.

Am I giving off hooker vibes? I tug on my blazer. Can he smell the combination of sex and money?

“Green,” Miss Yen hollers.

If tall, dark, and creepy has discerned what I’ve done, my boss will definitely know. Miss Yen has the freaky ability of being able to sense whenever I’ve broken a rule.

“Coming.” I graze the door with my knuckles as I enter her office, mentally preparing myself for the confrontation.

She paces behind her desk. I perch on the edge of an extremely uncomfortable guest chair and wait as she burns a trail in the carpet, striding back and forth, back and forth. Miss Yen makes a hippie high on acid appear lethargic, my pint-sized boss bouncing around the office like a ping-pong ball.

Finally she sits down. “I don’t want to lose another intern, but I have to do the right thing for Blaine Technologies. I know about your extracurricular activities, Green.”

Flaming balls of feces. My mouth dries. She’s confronting me about Nate.

“I can explain,” I lie. I have no idea how I’ll explain this.

“Let me explain first.” Miss Yen stops my sure-to-be inadequate blabbering. “There
might
be a last-minute opening in this year’s Change the World program.” She slides a piece of paper toward me. “Fill out this application and you
might
have an opportunity to pitch your project at the end of the month.”

I stare at the form, stunned. “There’s an opening for the Change the World grant?” This isn’t about Nate and me?

“There
might
be an opening,” Miss Yen emphasizes. “There are no guarantees. This is, as you would say, a big maybe.”

I’m not being fired and my project could be sponsored this year. The tension eases from my shoulders. “Does the program have to be operational?”

My boss’ lips twist. “We don’t fund dreams, Green.”

I’m more interested in the mentoring than the funding. I don’t have the skill set to make this project a success. I also won’t make this deadline working alone. “I’ll have to subcontract some of the work.” The wad of cash nestled between my breasts will pay for this delegation of duties.

“I’ve drafted a standard subcontractor agreement template for Blaine Technologies.” Miss Yen swivels in her chair, opens a drawer in one of the filing cabinets behind her, extracts more papers. “Take out the clauses that don’t apply to you and tweak some of the information. If a concern isn’t covered talk to me and I’ll help you with the wording.” She meets my gaze. “I know you like to bend the rules.”