Dirty Scoundrel(9)

Clay

Today on my hand, I've written a big H for "hard."

Not my dick, although it's been hard ever since I saw Nat's curvy little  self yesterday. It's for my heart. I've got to be hard. Ruthless. Cold.  I can't fall for a pair of big blue eyes, no matter how much she  wrapped me around her finger in the past. I need to remember that  Natalie was cold as ice when we broke up seven years ago. She acted like  I was trash.

Now she's the trash and I'm a billionaire. And that means I get what I want, no feelings attached.

Funny how I still want her after seven years and all that fucking  heartache. But I always have. I've never stopped dreaming of her body,  of her gasping kisses, the way she felt against me. There's never been  anyone for me but her.
         

     



 
Since I've got all this money, I've decided I'm going to fuck Natalie  Weston. Not mentally-just physically. I'm going to take her in a bed,  pull off her panties, and fuck her . . . and hopefully get her out of my  head forever.

Back in high school, I never got to fuck Natalie Weston. At the time, I  thought it was because she was a shy virgin, and I was content to wait. I  loved Natalie, and she was my girlfriend. It didn't matter how long it  took for her to decide that it was time to have sex, because I knew she  was going to be mine forever. She was worth waiting for.

But then Natalie dumped me. I never got to claim her, never got to make  her mine. Never got to sink into her and become one. Never got to bust  my first nut inside a girl, either, though that was less important to me  than losing Nat. As time went on, I figured I'd eventually forget her,  meet someone else, and then lose my virginity. Ain't nothin' wrong with  waitin'.

Except I've never forgotten her, so I'm still a virgin at twenty-five. Seems wrong.

All of this seems wrong, actually.

With my money, though, I'm going to make it right. I don't care if it  costs all my billions, I'm going to fuck Natalie Weston and get her out  of my head for good. Maybe once I've had her, I won't care about her any  longer.

I trace the H on my knuckles again, thinking.

Hard. Yeah.

I can be hard. I can be ruthless. I just need to remember how she dicked  me over. How she gave me blue balls for almost two years when we were  dating . . . and then decided I was too filthy to touch her precious  Hollywood-royalty panties.

I can't wait to touch 'em now.

I get out of the limo, indicating that my patient driver should wait  awhile. Today, I ditched Knox and decided to fly solo. Having my brother  there, light-fingering all the stuff in the rundown gift shop, hovering  and listening in on the conversations? Just made me all nervous and  weird. I don't need nerves-I need to be focused.

I even have a speech I practiced just for this moment.

Natalie, I'm offering you a bargain. I've done the research on your  father's fortunes, and it's clear that he's spent every last dollar that  he ever had from his movies. I know you're broke. I know the upkeep on  this ranch costs more than it brings in every month. I know exactly how  much you owe the banks, and I'm prepared to make you a deal. I'll save  your family and your business, but you've got to give me what I want.

Seems pretty cut-and-dried to me. No emotions, no relationship. Just a  contract for business. She has something I want, and I'm willing to pay  for it.

I enter the front of the museum, even though it's a full half hour  before scheduled opening time. The bell on the door clangs obscenely  loudly, and the front of the place is empty. Somewhere in the distance, a  vacuum is running and immediately shuts off the moment I enter.

"Coming!" someone calls out, and my dick immediately responds at the  sound of the female voice. I know who that is. I surreptitiously adjust  my junk in my jeans, not wanting to be obvious.

A moment later, a figure comes rushing out, swiping her hair back from  her face. Her skin is dewy with a hint of sweat, but it doesn't detract  from the fact that Nat Weston still takes my breath away every time I  see her. Her cheeks are pink, making her blue eyes seem even bluer, and  her pretty mouth is highlighted by a bit of lipstick. Instead of  pigtails, her dark hair is loose and tumbles around her shoulders in a  wavy curtain. She wears a black top with a low-plunging, deep neckline  that shows off her fantastic cleavage, and a pair of tight jeans that  are just begging for me to rip 'em off of her.

Nat blinks wide, and then a little smile curves her mouth. For a moment, she looks truly delighted to see me. "Hi again."

I rub my mouth, because this wasn't what I was expecting. I thought  maybe she'd be all wary of me coming around again. Or angry. I could  deal with angry. This smiling beauty's throwing me off my revenge game.  "Hi." I hesitate, then offer her my hand to shake. Seems like it's  either that or a hug, and I don't know if I can hug her without getting  hard.

She looks surprised at my gesture and hesitantly puts her hand in mine.  Her skin is soft, her fingers delicate as they brush over my skin. "I  didn't picture us shaking hands when we met again," she murmurs.

The H on my knuckles stands out like a brand as I stare at our clasped  hands. Hard. Ruthless. As cruel as she was to me. I need to remember.  The thought makes my tone a little harsher than anticipated. "How did  you picture it, then?"

Nat pulls away, composing herself. She seems surprised by my harsh tone.  "I don't know." She puts that fake, overly bright smile back on her  face. "How can I help you, Clay?"         

     



 

She's still close enough that I can see into the deep vee of her  cleavage, and a bolt of lust fires through me at the sight. I need to  not ogle her tits. I need to keep my cool if I want to get my way. No  regrets. I resist the urge to rub the H on my knuckles and decide to  launch into the speech I've prepared. "Natalie, I'm offering you a  bargain."

Her brows furrow. "Huh?"

"I've done the research on your father's fortunes, and it's clear that  he's spent every last dollar he ever made from his movies. I know you're  broke."

Natalie reels as if struck. "You what? You came here to throw that in my  face?" She gapes at me, clearly shocked. "Are you serious?"

"I didn't come to do that," I say swiftly. I need to regain control of  the conversation. Somehow when I ran this through my head, I didn't  picture the hurt look on Nat's face. I thought she'd be angry.  Indignant. Sneering. A wounded Natalie makes it harder to do this, and  it shouldn't be hard. She crushed me beneath one of her dainty heels  seven years ago. Why can't I do the same? I launch into the next section  of my speech. "I know the upkeep on this ranch costs more than it  brings in every month-"

"You don't know shit," she retorts furiously, taking a step backward.  Her hands go to her hips and she glares at me, clearly angry. "How dare  you?"

Good. Her anger makes this easier. I straighten, keeping my cool as I  continue to speak. "I know exactly how much you owe the banks," I say  calmly. "And I'm prepared to make you a deal. I'll save your family and  your business."

Her expression goes soft again. "Wait, what? You will?" She reaches out and puts a hand on the wall, as if bracing herself.

I nod. "But you've got to give me what I want."

Nat goes still. "I don't understand. What . . . what is it you want?"

I cross my arms over my chest, and I know I'm looming over her, just a  little. Not in a threatening way, I hope. Just want to exude authority  instead of feeling like a slobbering schoolboy around her. "You agree to  become my personal assistant for as long as I want you."

Her lips part and those big blue eyes blink up at me. "An . . . assistant? Like filing paperwork?"

Damn, that's such an innocent reaction. I can't help but smile. Clearly  my thoughts go to much dirtier places than hers. "I ain't wanting that  kind of assisting."

One dark brow arches and I watch as her jaw almost imperceptibly tightens. "So hand jobs in the back seat of the limo, then."

"If that's what I feel like, yeah." Actually, the mental image of  Natalie putting her hands on my cock in the back seat of the limo is now  being added as jerk-off fodder, because damn, that's hot. "You're going  to accompany me and see to all my needs."

"You're asking me to hook for you, you bastard." She looks outraged, her  breasts heaving magnificently against that low neckline.

I give a casual shrug. "Maybe I am."

"Are you trying to take me down a peg for what I said to you?" The hurt  has left her face, and all that remains is anger. Good. She looks like  she's itchin' to slap my face, and that makes me grin. She's cute when  she's angry.

"I'm not taking anyone down a peg. I just know what I want, and I've  decided I'm going to go after it. I didn't get it seven years ago and I  figure now with our fortunes reversed, I've got money and you don't.  Maybe that'll get me places I wasn't able to get to seven years ago by  being a nice, patient guy."