Final Call (The Call #2) (26 page)

He swipes his hand
across the desk, and holy fucking shit, the papers and pens scatter
just like they do in the movies. Before I can wonder when this
became my life, he lays me back and eases my dress up over my
hips.

Once again, my mouth is
taken by his, this time hot and desperate, needy and forceful. I’m
a prisoner beneath his body, my bare ass against the chill of his
glass desk, while he runs his hands over my body.

They find my hips and,
eventually, my aching, wet clit. He rubs me through my panties,
making my back arch and my breath hitch, but it’s not enough.

I want all of him. I
want every inch of him inside me until I forget the crap hanging
over us and give in to the sheer pleasure I know only he can give
me.

“Aaron, please,” I
whisper into his neck, grabbing his back desperately. “I need
you.”

“How badly do you need
me, Day? Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you right
now.” He kisses down my neck to my collarbone, sucking lightly on
my pulse point, making me tighten.

“Don’t fuck me around
Aaron. Just fuck me. You know how badly I need you.”

“No, I don’t,” he
breathes, grinding his erection against my throbbing pussy. “Tell
me, Dayton.”

“Tell you what?”

He slips two fingers
inside me. “Tell me how desperately you need me to fill you and
stretch you until you throw your head back and whisper my name.
Tell me how fiercely you want me to drive my cock into you. Tell me
how hard you want me to hold your hips against mine. Tell me how
much you want this.” He unzips his fly and positions the head of
his hard, gleaming cock at my opening. “Tell me how desperately you
need me inside you until you’re incapable of screaming anything but
my name.”

“You demanding?” I flex
my hips, trying to get more of him inside.

“Requiring, baby. Tell
me right the fuck now or I’m zipping my pants and leaving you here
wide open and begging on my desk.”

The idea of that sends
a lightning jolt through my body, and I dig my nails into my skin.
I lift my face to his, my mouth by his ear, and I give him what he
wants.

“I want you inside me,
Aaron. I want you to sink into me until you forget where you end
and I begin, until we forget what’s real and what isn’t. I want you
inside me until you’re fucking me so hard all you can think of is
the sweet heat of my pussy clenching around you as I cry your name
into your ear and bite your shoulder in pleasure. Is that enough
for you, baby? Is that what you want? To know I want you to fuck me
until I see motherfucking stars from the sheer force of the pure
pleasure you give me?”

He drives into me in
one swift thrust, stretching every muscle and making them clench.
“Yes. That’s what I want to know, Dayton. I want you to know you’ll
see nothing as you come around me.”

“Then you should stop
talking and fuck me right the hell now.”

And he does. He pulls
me into him, tilting my hips up, and pushes himself so far inside
me that there isn’t a part of my core untouched by him. The heat
from his penetration spreads through my body, taking each of my
limbs hostage by the beauty of the feeling.

He pushes deep with
every thrust into me, each one harder than the last, more
desperate, more frantic, more needing. I claw at his back and push
my body into him, loving the rawness of it. This is pure.
Unadulterated. Desperate. The very thing I need right now.

He pinches my nipple
and rolls it between his fingers. I moan at the body-filling
feeling. Desire hotter than I’ve ever felt encompasses me as he
takes my other in his mouth, still pounding me.

He releases my nipple,
and at his groan, the sex turns carnal. It changes to a fuck in the
purest sense of the word. It’s primal, and the only goal is
pleasure. A scream and a clench and a release.

Our skin slaps together
as he drives himself into me relentlessly, his only goal to come. I
tilt my hips up and take him farther, allowing him to hit every
spot inside me.

Then the skin above his
cock rubs my clit, the stubble from his trimmed hair harsh and
brutal against the tender nub, and I give in.

To the harsh pounding,
to the desperate breaths in my ear, to the clenching of my muscles,
to the digging of his fingers at my hips.

I come. Explosively.
Suddenly. Incredibly. An all-encompassing shudder of my body that
tenses every muscle I have. A crazy, out-of-this-world release that
takes all of me hostage.

Aaron’s fingers dig as
deep into my skin as mine are into his as he grunts my name. I push
into him, milking every drop of his orgasm.

The feeling of his skin
against mine is something to savor. No matter how many times I
grind my hips into his and pull every drop of salty come from
him.

Aaron slides a hand
into my hair and turns my head into his. “Good thing I just cleared
my afternoon for you, Miss Black.” He pulls out of me, a hard kiss
taking my lips.

“No. You reschedule and
get the hell on with it, Stone.”

“No. We have other
things to attend to this afternoon.” He stands and buttons his fly,
tucking his half-hard dick inside his boxers.

“Like what,
exactly?”

He wipes some tissue
along me, tenderly wiping me clean, and passes me my panties.
“Sorry. I don’t have clean ones,” he murmurs. “And things I don’t
want to discuss while you’re lying on my desk after I fucked
you.”

I sit up, courtesy of
his arms around my back and lifting me, and brush my thumb along
his jaw. “Let’s deal with it, baby. Together. As one.”

“We will be, but I’m
still not discussing it while you’re on my desk.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
I stand, stepping to the side of him. “There. I’m not on your desk
anymore.”

Aaron looks at my hand.
“And you’re also not wearing any underwear.”

I tug my dress down my
thighs and stuff my wet panties into the pocket of his pants. “And
I won’t be for the rest of the day, so that’s a moot point. Now.
Talk.”

His phone rings and he
holds his finger up. “Yes?”

“Mr. Stone?” Dottie’s
voice comes through the speakerphone. “I gathered the information
you asked for this morning.”

“Thank you, Dottie. Can
you bring it in?”

I cough quietly and
point at the floor. More precisely, the mess of papers, files, and
pens covering it.

Aaron runs his tongue
across his bottom lip. “On second thought, give me a minute.”

“Of course.” She clicks
off the line, and Aaron stalks toward me, a fiery amusement
reflecting in his eyes.

“You realize you’ll be
reorganizing all these later, yes?” He scoops the files and papers
up in one swift movement and replaces the pens in the jar next to
his laptop.

“Why? You’re the one
who put them there.” I poke him in the chest with raised
eyebrows.

He slaps my ass
slightly. “We’re not getting into this when my assistant is walking
into my office in…right now.” He kisses me quickly and turns to
face Dottie as she eases the door open after a couple of light
knocks.

“Mr. Stone?”

“Come in and shut the
door behind you,” Aaron orders, sitting behind his desk.

I stand to the side and
wrap my arms around my stomach, the playful, sexy mood of only
minutes ago dissipating into a much heavier one that feels somewhat
suffocating.

Dottie takes a seat on
the opposite side of his desk and places a folder in front of her.
“I called around this morning and put some feelers out. What I
know, so far, after promising an intern at The Seattle Insider that
risking her job would be worth her while…” She pauses, catching my
confused look, and one side of her lips quirk up. “After bribing
her,” she adds.
Oh. Ah.
“Naomi met with them on the day
after you and Dayton returned from London.”

“The day after I moved
in.” I look at Aaron. He nods once and puts his hand out without
returning my gaze.

Dottie hands him the
folder. “She promised them the ‘scoop’ on Dayton’s past employment
for a fee higher than it’s worth. The story—as you can see in the
file—is ready to go into print at the first word from her.”

My fingers dig into my
sides. Shit. She’s really planned it all out. I step up behind
Aaron and skim the paper in his hands.

A sick feeling rises in
my stomach.

I don’t know how she
managed it, but she’s uncovered everything but my bra size. My
clients, my schedule, my fees… Everything. She knows absolutely
everything.

“The Seattle Insider,
you say?” Aaron looks up and taps his finger against his mouth
thoughtfully. “What would they want with this? It’s not sleazy
tabloid material. Why isn’t she running it with a bigger
press?”

“Because they’re
desperate. They’ve been running out of stories for months, and
their readership has been going with it. They’re willing to pay a
lot of money for something that will put them back in people’s
hands. A story on Seattle’s version of royalty is the way to do
that.”

“Interesting,” he
replies after a long moment. Slowly, he turns to look at me, and I
see a spark in his eye. One that screams of an idea, something that
could only be accomplished by someone with money. The money he
has.

He looks back to
Dottie. “Get Sheila to deal with rearranging my afternoon schedule.
I want you to send out more of those feelers and see if you can
find out just how desperate the Insider is.” He pulls his wallet
from his pocket and slides several bills across the table. “I might
be interested in broadening my portfolio of investments.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

“You’re going to buy
The Insider?”

Aaron looks at me
across the table, sucking up a string of spaghetti like a child. I
wrinkle my nose at the action, and he laughs.

“Why are you looking at
me like I’ve gone completely crazy?”

“Buying a tabloid. You
could pay them off instead.”

“Paying people off
doesn’t always work. As soon as the money is in their hands, all
bets are off, especially for a company like them. Dottie said it
herself—the only reason they’re running the story and paying Naomi
an extortionate fee is because they’ll fold if they don’t. If I
step in, buy the company, and keep them afloat, they have no need
to pay her and run the story.”

“Okay, so I understand
that.” I put my fork on the table. “But do you really want to be
associated with them?”

“They’ll have a regular
investment from a silent partner. My name wouldn’t be connected to
them in any way.”

“You say it like it’s
so easy. Like, what? You’ll just roll up to The Insider’s office
and tell them you’re buying them? Slap a contract on the table in
front of the dude who owns it?”

He smirks slowly, the
curve of his lips both tantalizing and amusing. “Don’t be
ridiculous, sweetheart. I’ll tell them I’m buying their company or
they’ll find themselves unable to sell another paper regardless of
the supposedly breaking news stories they print.”

“Really? You’d destroy
their company?”

He levels his gaze on
me. It’s steady and firm, honesty reigning supreme in the blue of
his eyes. “I told you this morning that I’d kill a man if it meant
protecting you. What makes you think I won’t rip a shitty little
tabloid to shreds to do the same thing?”

***

A sheen of sweat covers
my skin as I pound my feet against the treadmill. After more than
two weeks of not exercising, I feel a little bit out of it. A lot
out of it.

But I need this. I need
to feel the burn in my legs and the thumping of my heart as I put
all of my frustration and tension into this workout. I need to let
go of some of it, or who knows what will happen. I sure as shit
don’t need to have another anxiety attack.

The gym on the floor
beneath Aaron’s apartment is a happy discovery. And since it’s
early afternoon and everyone is at work, I’m here alone. Which
means I’m here to pant and scream and grunt my way through pushing
out the heaviness of the last few days.

Yesterday is still
niggling at the back of my mind though. I’m still feeling uncertain
over Aaron’s proclamation regarding The Insider. I’m also aware of
the fact that it doesn’t cover all our bases.

We don’t know if she
sold the story exclusively or not. Still, it doesn’t matter. I wish
that it did. The story won’t run, so she can sell it again. She can
sell it to any number of papers in this city alone.

Not to mention
nationwide. Stone Advertising is a staple in so many industries,
not just the fashion and modeling worlds. They run campaigns for
fragrances and music and food. They’re everywhere because they’re
the best.

Any number of the
shiny, glossy magazines I eye every time I walk past the stand in a
store would buy that story. My story.

I close my eyes and
slow my pace. How did she know everything? How could she possibly
know every little detail about my life? The only ones who know
anything like that are…

The people I’ve worked
with.

Monique wouldn’t do
that. This much I do know, and I’m completely certain of it. The
informal contract we sign upon joining her dictates that work never
leaves work, and personal details are never provided to anyone.

But the girls…

The escort world isn’t
dissimilar to the modeling world in the sense that your looks are
everything. The prettiest, sexiest, most alluring girl gets the big
players. They get the big pay at the end of the week and keep
drawing them in. They get the regular, strong income.

That makes for
jealousy. I don’t know anyone who does that job because they truly
enjoy it. Really, having sex with numerous men isn’t fun. It’s not
the kind of thing that makes you bounce out of bed excitedly on a
morning. That’s the bottom line, and the only thing that sweetens
the fact you’re a fucking toy for whoever buys you is the money
they pay.