Executive Perks (11 page)

He looked down at her, dazed, but before he could react she had flung her arms around his neck again and pulled his head down, kissing him with an abandonment that left him aching and hard and hungry for her. He cupped his hands around her ass again, his fingers reveling in the firm rounded feel of her, and lifted her up, grinding her against his cock, and then moved her gently back onto the high cushioned bar stool behind her. His lips trailed a burning path down her throat, his hands massaging the outsides of her thighs for a moment, still encased by the silk of her long gown, before he moved suddenly and purposefully to part and stand between them.

He pressed his cock, steely and needy, against the silk of her parted legs, his lips now in her hair, then at her ear, as he whispered hoarsely, “I want you…now.” But as he inched the silk of her long dress up and moved his lips down, now at her collarbone, now edging down toward that aching vicinity from which she had automatically pushed his hand away a moment ago, she muttered, “Slow down,” putting her hands on his shoulders to push him away. His head lifted and he fixed her with a heated gaze. The blue-gray irises of her eyes were almost completely obscured by the black pupils and her breathing was shallow. She was as turned on as he was. He knew she was. Realizing he had managed to get the skirt of her dress as high as her thighs, he reached tentatively between them.

“All right. We’ll go slow if you like.” Although, shit, she didn’t seem to need it. When his fingertips reached her panties—a thong by the feel of it, he was pleased to note—she was as wet as she’d been before.

There was a serious disconnect between the lovely Miss Beckett’s words and her body. She was asking for it slow, but it sure felt as if she was primed and ready for a good hard fuck.

He dropped to his knees, pushing hers apart as her hands came to anchor in his hair, as if she was trying to keep her balance. He moved the thong aside.

“Nice,” he breathed against her. “I liked your ladylike white cotton panties, Virginia, but to tell you the truth, I always pictured you in a thong. Did you wear this for me?”

“No, I have to wear it for the dress. Otherwise, I’d have panty lines up my bottom. Showing through the dress, I mean.”

Holding the sweet pink lips of her cunt open to him with his thumbs, he just looked at her for a minute. Christ, she was perfect. Mere wisps of soft curls covered those plump wet lips and the distended button of her clit. “As slow as you want,” he assured her, blowing at first and then pressing his mouth to those sweet lips as her fingers clenched in his hair.

She tasted wonderful, fresh and clean and just a little tangy. He moved one of his thumbs to dip into that seeping well, rotating in circular motions as he tongued her clit.

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded thick and a little confused above him, as if she really was asking, giving him pause. Jesus, if she was, she had really missed the class on oral sex, both ways, giving and getting.

He kissed the inside of one soft thigh. “I’m going down on you.” The fingers in his hair pulled him back to it and he began to eat her out in earnest. Pushing her thighs wider open to him, he concentrated on her clit, licking and nuzzling the engorged bud until her moaning moved him to thrust his tongue, hard, as far as he could into her pussy.

“My God. That is so…”

He glanced up to see that her eyes were closed, her head thrown back.

He wanted to feel his fingers up her again. Not to mention wanted to get her off pretty quickly in order to get to the main event.

His haste was unusual. He liked to eat pussy and hers was extremely sweet. But, fuck. He’d waited long enough for her.

His hands moved around to her ass to yank her farther toward him and to his surprise, the move unsettled her and she slipped off the stool, tumbling them both over.

He laughed, ending up on the bottom, the hard parquet floor beneath him, with one gloriously half-dressed beautiful woman spread all over him. He grasped her ass, completely bared by the thong which was no more than a strip of lace between the cheeks, and rubbed her wet crotch against the ridge of his erection. “Let’s find the bedroom. It might be safer.”

“Okay, but first some of the champagne.”

It took him a minute to register that. What the hell? He still could barely breathe from wanting her so much and she wanted to stop for a drink? He searched her face, its usually porcelain hue a rosy red, her lips moist and parted, her gray-blue eyes still wide and dark. Surprisingly, he saw an anxiousness in them, as well as something he couldn’t quite identify. She didn’t look drunk exactly, she looked… He couldn’t put his finger on it. What did it matter, anyway?

“All right, if you’d like.” He rolled up from the floor, pulling her upright with him, and picked up the champagne bottle from the bar. “But let’s drink it in the bedroom.”

The mirrored wall-to-wall closet in the bedroom reflected the blonde, white-clad Virginia and the dark-haired Aaron in tuxedo-black as a study in opposites, bathed in the soft golden overhead light. Aaron poured Virginia a glass of the chilled champagne. She downed it in one gulp, he noted uncomfortably, and then held the glass out for another, repeating the exercise after Aaron had reluctantly refilled it. When she attempted to pour herself a third glass, Aaron pulled her hand away from the bottle and said gently, “I think you’ve had enough.”

But she earnestly protested, without defensiveness or hostility, but just as if she were explaining the matter, “No, I don’t think I have,” and she poured and drank a third glass of champagne before she twirled over to the bed and fell back on it with a carefree giggle.

Aaron studied the sprawled white form, her long curls streaming over the edge of the bed. Jesus, had Virginia really had that much to drink? Personally, it’d take a fifth of scotch to have much of an effect on him, but then he’d had the sterling example of many an alcoholic foster father to show him how to hold his hard liquor. The genteel Miss Beckett was undoubtedly not so
lucky
.

“I think you could use a cup of coffee,” Aaron found himself, incredibly enough, suggesting.

Virginia stretched sensuously, the movement pulling the white silk of her dress tautly against her full tits, the effect agonizingly catalogued by a suddenly wary Aaron. This was ridiculous. Virginia Beckett was a smart, capable, grown woman. She headed her own company, for God’s sake. He didn’t need to patronizingly second-guess her. If she wanted to get roaring drunk before she got laid, who was he to object?

On the other hand, if this was her usual practice, the private detective’s report on her personal life that he had commissioned certainly would have turned something like that up. He was starting to get a bad feeling here.

“Virginia, honey, how about some coffee?”

She turned on her side on the bed to face him and wantonly held out her arms, beckoning him to her. “Coffee? Why, that would defeat the purpose.”

Oh, well, he had tried. He could still taste the sweet juice of her on his tongue and he had been restrained enough for one night. He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt as he approached the bed. But when he came to stand before her, he just stared down at her, making no further move to join her. She was very beautiful. Improbably, trying to bolster his point that she was her own person and could make her own decisions—like getting drunk and then getting a nice hard fuck—he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I admire your track record in your business.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t say the same about you,” she responded with a loose, charming smile. “I think you’re a cutthroat robber baron.”

Startled by her honesty, he laughed, leaning down to kiss her, intoxicated himself by the soft feel of her lips, the proof that she was so ready, so open to him, her legs slightly parted under the silk of her gown, her nipples visibly outlining her desire for him. But he didn’t kiss her. He pulled back. “How did you come to end up taking over BFD?”

“My parents died.”

He felt a faint stab of kinship. “So did mine.”

“I didn’t think you had any.”

“Ever?” He laughed. “That’s not possible even for me. But what I meant was how did it come to be
you
that was your father’s successor? Why not one of the others?”

“The others? You mean Allie and Nora? They had no interest in the business.”

“Their husbands then?”

She shook her head vociferously. “Especially not Brian!”

“Your brother maybe?”

“He was too young.”

“Not much younger than you, is he?”

“And I’m not a man, you mean.”

He sat next to her on the bed and ran his hand down her silk-clad hip and she arched, actually arched, into his touch, like some kind of satisfied cat. He almost lost his resolve to slow things down until she was a little more sober. “No, you’re most definitely and most delightfully not a man.”

She sat up, leaning back against the headboard. “I trained for it. For running the company, I mean. From the time I could talk. I’m sort of driven.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. Of course I noticed. But driven why? What do you want out of all this?”

“Is this some smarmy way to get corporate secrets out of me or something?”

“No, I’m saving that technique for later. I’m just warming up. So what do you want? More money?”

She guffawed. “Money!”

“Well, it comes out pretty handy down here, bub.”

“What?”

“Don’t you know your Frank Capra?”

“I do, but whatever is the cynical Aaron Winston doing quoting ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?”

“Trying to keep from attacking you by keeping the conversation going,” he answered honestly.

“So attack me! What are we here for, anyway?”

“Oh, I’ll be attacking.”

“Promises…promises.” She twirled a lock of her hair. “I like what you did out there to me, Aaron,” she said, almost shyly, in a way that uncomfortably reminded him this may not be her usual pace.

“Going down on you?”

She wrinkled her nose and he laughed.

“You’re so…” Shaking her curls, she finished, “Earthy, I guess.”

He took a deep breath. Christ, he’d show her earthy. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before either?”

“No, I have. I just don’t think the guy, my boyfriend at the time I guess you’d call him, knew what he was doing. It didn’t feel like that.”

He was suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous all this restraint on his part was. But still he hesitated and she went on, as if she hadn’t just complimented him on the technique of his tongue between her legs.

“Okay, so what do I want?” She took up the thread of the conversation, bouncing a little up and down on the bed. “I suppose I want to make my dad and grandpa proud.”

‘They’re dead.”

“Now that’s the Aaron Winston I know. I know they’re dead. But don’t you think our loved ones can see us?”

“No.”

“Well, I do. So there’s that. But I guess I want to prove I can do it, can be a success.”

“Haven’t you proven that already?”

“Look who’s talking!”

He leaned over to give her adorable nose a peck. “Touché. I guess people like us never get enough. I’m not sure that’s an endearing quality.”

“Don’t lump me in with you!”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that.”

“No really. All that stuff you talked about—about eating up other companies and, ah—whatever—”

“I don’t think you were listening very closely.”

“It’s not like that for me. I only want my company, my family’s company.”

He felt just the slightest twinge of irritation at her for the first time tonight. “Not everybody is born with a company, princess. Some of us have to go out and get one.”

She looked about to respond, but then stopped herself. “Let’s drop it.” She came up on her knees and looped her arms around his neck. Light feathery kisses against his jaw followed. He should let it go, he really should. She was so obviously into this. But instead, he said, “Do you do this a lot? Go home with guys you hate?”

“You’re my first.”

“The first guy you’ve hated or the first you’ve gone home with?”

“Why do you keep talking?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he muttered. “You’re bringing out the knight in shining armor in me.”

“I’m not surprised. I bring that out in all the guys.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” he groaned. “Oh, honey, you’re not too drunk to know what you’re doing, are you?” He began to kiss her neck, hoping to coax the right answer out of her, feeling as if he would die if he had to give her up tonight. When she didn’t say anything, he pulled away and prodded lightly, “Because if you are, I’d have to be a gentleman and not take advantage of you.” He had purposely phrased the option in this old-fashioned way, willing the modern businesswoman Virginia Beckett to laugh at such a condescending idea and pull him down into her arms, freeing him from any possible guilt. But to his immense and painful disappointment, she just stared at him glassily.

“Of course I’m drunk. Do you really think I’d be here with you otherwise?”

Aaron swore violently. Something about that just hit him the wrong way. Maybe he didn’t want to take advantage of her or maybe he just wanted her to know it when he did and remember it in the morning. Cutthroat robber baron or not.

“Come on, then, honey. I’ll take you home. I have a hard and fast rule against having my first mind-blowing session of sex with a girl when she’s admitted to downing copious amounts of alcohol in order to do it. We’ll try this another time.”