Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set (3 page)

Yup, in the fluorescent lighting of the room, all these guys could clearly see her nipples poking out.

Don't think about it. Think about your promotion. Think about your raise. Think about twenty thousand.

A swish of movement alerted her. A dark guy with a neck tattoo wearing a bright green suit was raising his hand, like a student in a classroom.

"Y-yes?" she said, her fingers hovering at the front clasp of her bra.

"What kind of timeline are we talking about here? Are you thinking this will go down before or after Thanksgiving?" he asked blandly, and others immediately echoed him, nodding.

"B-before," she mumbled, trying to smile confidently. "This shouldn't intrude on anyone's holiday celebration."

The man smirked. Oh, God. This was mortifying. Here they were, treating this like a straight business presentation, and here she was, baring her body for them. Her fingers worked the clasp as she doggedly continued with her pitch. Now she could hardly look at any of them.

She stopped talking as she felt weight of her breasts settle. Now they hung freely behind the loosened bra. Her breasts were shaped like melons, with the nipples pointing more southward than out. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Hers were not, she knew, a stripper's breasts. They were not perky. They were...heavy. And they had freckles all over them.

The low murmur of voices in the room ceased. Everyone was staring at her breasts. She knew it, even without looking. Her eyes closed.

"Ms. Fontina?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Almatto."

"That's a fuck ugly bra. Throw it here."

Laughter exploded in the room. Charli blinked rapidly, then glared daggers at him. His returning look was amused, challenging.

She hurled the bra at him, and he caught it, bunched it up, and put it in his pocket.

Now there was nothing hiding her breasts, not so much as a scrap of fabric.

Her hands itched to cover herself. She refused to let them. She squared her shoulders.

Twenty thousand dollars.

But I'll still cram that smug smirk of his up his tight ass if he insults my clothes again.

"Not everyone can afford satin and lace for daily wear," she said quietly, surprising herself. She surprised him, too. His nostrils flared and he shifted in his seat.

But his expression became stern. "I'm afraid we don't have time for chit-chat, Ms. Fontina. We're trying to get some business out of the way before the holiday. Why don't you continue with your proposal? And make us hungry for it. We're expecting a hard sell today."

More laughter at the double entendres. Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she made herself look straight into each pair of masculine eyes, while avoiding Draken's. Some were lustful, some were admiring, some were amused. All of them were friendly, and none of them were derisive, thank God. She lifted her chin.

Okay. So your breasts are on display for a group of hot business executives who apparently have no objection to getting an impromptu strip show. They probably think this whole presentation is bogus, that you're a true professional showgirl. They probably think you get off on baring your breasts for a room full of strange men. And why wouldn't they? Your nipples are obviously rock-hard. At least they have no idea that your pussy is drenched with juice.

She refused to look at the man who was responsible for that.

"Ah, right," she said, nodding. "Yes, we're shooting for mid-October..."

Now that she'd accomplished getting her upper half naked, Charli relaxed a little. Not completely—there was no forgetting she was strutting around the room topless. But it got surprisingly easy to focus on her pitch, so easy that whenever someone interrupted and asked a question and broke her concentration, she was startled and blushed.

She got interrupted a lot.

At one point, Draken reminded her of her PowerPoint presentation, and as she walked over to set it up, she could feel her breasts swaying.

"Half an hour to go," he announced. "Matthew, get some coffee, will you?"

A guy rose and took orders around the room, then turned to Charli. "You want anything, Ms. Fontina?"

She shook her head shyly.

"Ms. Fontina wants a cup of ice," Draken said.

"Ice water?'

"No, just ice. She's still a bit nervous. We need to help her chill."

There was a ripple of laughter in the room, and Charli didn't think his joke was funny. She swallowed, fighting the urge to cover her breasts, to turn away.

She plugged on, though, with her presentation, until the door opened again a few minutes later and Matthew returned with a tray.

"Thanks, Matthew. Ms. Fontina, since we're stopped, I—we—" Draken gestured to the others—"can't help noticing that your nipples are beaded. Are you cold?"

Charli stiffened and stared at him, appalled. "Um. No." Her face was blazing.

"She looks hot to me," somebody offered.

"Really hot," somebody else said.

Draken gestured. "Come here, please, Ms. Fontina. Yes—just step around."

It was like it was someone else's feet taking her around the table to Draken. Charli certainly didn't will it. She tripped once and looked up quickly, as if daring anybody to laugh at her. But though there were smothered smiles, nobody made a sound. But she saw where their gazes were fixed, and again, had to fight not to shield her breasts.

Twenty thousand dollars.

"Yeah," said Draken. And his voice was husky now. "The rest of your body might feel hot, but your nipples look pretty chilled to me. Are you sure they're warm? Ms. Fontina? Are you listening?"

"N-no," she said stiffly. "I mean yes. I mean no, not chilled."

He smiled slowly. "Then that must mean they're uncomfortably warm. This should feel good. Hold still now, Ms. Fontina."

She watched, horrified, as he scooped up a piece of ice from the glass on the tray and brought it up to rub one of her nipples.

She jerked and cried, "Oh!" Rigidly she stood there, drop-jawed, as Draken scraped both her nipples with the ice, sending shards of frozen heat through her directly to her core.

"You're right," Draken said thoughtfully. "Now they're shriveling with cold and I see you're flinching. We don't want that, do we? Let me warm them up for you."

He ran his palms under her breasts, then hoisted the undersides until they overflowed his large hands and graphically squeezed the bulging flesh.

She made a muffled sound.

"What was that, Ms. Fontina?" he said politely.

"N-nothing."

"Mm, was it raining outside, by the way? I heard there was a forty percent chance of thunderstorms today." He started drawing on the nipples, pulling them, elongating them to an exaggerated length.

He was asking
her
the question. She shook her head wordlessly.

Aside from Draken's soft voice, there was dead silence. Around her, she sensed some of the men loosening their collars and shifting in their seats. She had no idea what to do. Yank away? Stop him? She wanted to. But it wasn't. Happening.

She was stuck in a horrible limbo between pleasure and depravity. Letting everyone see what Draken Almatto was doing—just allowing it—was mortifying. These people had to know from the way her hips were twitching what was happening to her. And that was
before
the whimpers escaping her throat made her sound like a trapped kitten.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to derail your speech, Ms. Fontina," Draken murmured, tugging hard on both nipples. "Please go on."

"Wh-what?" she said foggily.

"With your proposal," the blond guy said from off to the side, his voice deep. "Get on with it, babe."

Draken shot him a laser-sharp look. "Jude, please treat Ms. Fontina as
you'd
like to be treated if you were giving a formal presentation to an important client."

Charli bit down on a yelp of shocked pleasure as he gave her nipples a firm twist.

"Specifically, she would appreciate being addressed by her name," Draken went on.

"Oh—right," the guy said hastily. "If you don't mind, Ms. Fontina, go on with what you were saying."

"Yes, please, Ms. Fontina," someone else chimed in. "We're definitely keen to hear more."

Suddenly all the guys seemed earnest and supportive.

She gave a mental snort.
While I stand here pretending your boss isn't tormenting my nipples in front of you, making me wet my panties.

"Ms. Fontina? Is there a problem?" Draken said softly.

"No," she swallowed. "No."

She drew courage from the depths of her reserves. This public handling of her was
not
in their agreement. But Charli was terrible at making spontaneous decisions; it was one reason she wasn't sure if she was true management material. Already her day had changed course too radically; now she felt vested in finishing the hour out. She would walk away from Draken Almatto and never see him again, and hopefully none of these other men, too, but at least she'd be twenty thousand richer.

"Go on," Draken reminded her. "You were cataloging the terms. If you could just do us the courtesy of repeating that last part..."

Charli took a deep breath, then began blathering on. It was like she was divided into three parts. One part was all business. Another part was getting wetter and wetter between her thighs and causing her blood to rage like fire through her body as her nipples were tugged firmly, painfully, deliciously, and unrelentingly by Draken while she talked. A third part was trying not to focus on the men watching her interestedly and failing.

"Your breasts should be sufficiently warm now," he interrupted her, and with one more squeeze, she was abruptly released. He gestured for her to go around the table again. She did so as if in a dream. When she glanced back at him, he was lounging back in his chair, his eyes intently focused on her.

She tripped over her own feet halfway there.

"You really want—me to go on?" she choked out.

"Well, let's see." He looked around. "Is everyone still awake? Can you hold on for a few more minutes, guys? I know presentations can be tedious stuff."

"Sure!"

"No problem!"

"We'll hang in there."

"Somehow!"

She flushed, fisting her hands at her side, and after a couple of deep breaths, began talking again. After what he'd done to her nipples, her body was screaming its shame visibly. Each and every man there could see the signs: Her breasts were pink and swollen, her nipples were begging, and she could smell her own wetness.

They knew what she wanted.

Totally and utterly humiliating.

Draken's expression was smug. Suddenly she quivered from head to foot with rage. Even more than rage, though, she wanted to throw herself down on the conference table and pull Draken down on top of her and damn the voyeurs. It was that bad.

She shouldn't let him get to her. Any of them.

It was just...she needed her nipples sucked. So. Much. Needed to claw her fingers into the muscles of that man's arms and chest. Totally needed the thrust of his cock. It didn't matter that she didn't know him from Adam, that she had never had a purely sexual experience in her life before—that she wasn't a
player
. She yearned for sex with Draken Almatto. Now. If he asked her, she'd do it just like an animal. Open her legs and bellow as he took her in front of a group of men.

And ruin her fucking life.

Hate you, Mr. Almatto.

"Ah, Ms. Fontina, could you raise your voice? I'm having some trouble hearing you," somebody said.

Charli nodded and made herself speak more loudly, which only emphasized the tremor in her voice. She had lost track of what ridiculousness she was spouting now. What time was it? Was it almost over? God, she just wanted to run away and hide. But no.

Her breasts felt humongous.

Pretend. Pretend everything is normal.
She spoke faster, but that garnered only chuckles.

No, no. It's too mortifying. They all know. They can see. They know your panties are soaked through.
She looked aside, sucking in much-needed air as she began to hyperventilate.

"Ms. Fontina," Draken said sharply. "Calm down. Things got a little intense for a bit. But we're not going to eat you, as much as we might want to. You're doing fine. Isn't she?'

A chorus of voices rushed to reassure her she was doing very well.

"You're giving an impressive performance today. Just a few more minutes and you're done," Draken said.

Somehow Charli managed to curtail her panic. The atmosphere in the room seemed to soften. Now the expressions on the men's faces were a little sheepish.

"Better, Ms. Fontina?"

She nodded.

"Good. You have kick-ass tits, by the way. Doesn't she?"

There was a general assent. Charli couldn't believe it when she responded to the praise like a dog, all but wagging her tail. Draken's voice warmed. "They feel good, too. Nice to squeeze, and the nipples are incredibly responsive. Every guy here wanted to do what I did."

Oh, God.

Draken laughed. "No need to be embarrassed, Ms. Fontina. And your presentation isn't half bad, either. I would like you to go over a few points again, though." His gentle cadence was designed to calm her. "Can you do that for us?"

"Yes, Mr. Almatto."

"There's one more thing I need you to do first, though," he said, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it behind him. Heavens, his shoulders
were
broad. "Just reach under your skirt and stick your finger into your panties and rub your pussy. Then come around here and show us your finger."

Her lips parted in shock. "Wh-wh-what?"

"I think you heard me, Ms. Fontina," he said lazily. "Or actually—could I call you Charli?"

Shit
. Blushing. So much blushing. "No," she cried.

His brows rose. "You want us to stay formal?" He began to laugh.

"Yes—I mean no—what you said. No f-finger."

His eyes gleamed. "So our deal's off?"