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Blackmailed into the Billionaire's Bed(46)

By:Jan Bowles


Unable to resist his hard-on, she gently stroked it, feeling it twitch appreciatively in her hand. “Go on, boss. Nearly there.” When he looked across at her, she knew her provocative choice of words hadn’t been lost on him.”

“Mmm, it feels so good when you do that.” Mac was horny again. When wasn’t he? But before she could move in for the kill, his cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Mac turned and glanced at the small glowing screen. “Hold your horses, honey.” He removed her hand from his erect prick and then raised himself onto his elbow. “I’d better take this. It’s Frank Carrell.”





Chapter Twelve




“Yes!” Mac knew he positively barked down the line, but he didn’t want anything to get in the way of sex with Kendall. “Whatever it is, Frank, it had better be good.”

“It is, Mr. Buchanan, I’ve just received word from my sources in the Mexican police. They tell me that Karl Graves has been found dead in an expensive hotel room in Tijuana.”

Mac nodded. “Is that so?” Well, he certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep because some worthless piece of human excrement had breathed his last.

“According to my sources, Mr. Buchanan, the dumb bastard had been spending money like water all over Tijuana. In such a poor country, it’s like signing your own death warrant. Mexico is a dangerous place at the best of times, and if you advertise you’ve got a shitload of cash, then you’re just asking for trouble.”

“How did he die, Frank?”

“Bullet through the brain. He obviously pissed the wrong people off.”

“That figures. And the million dollars?”

“From what I hear, there’s around eight hundred thousand left. It’s spread over several bank accounts. Graves has no next of kin, so it looks like the state is in for a windfall. That is unless you go public about the blackmail.”

“Nah, I can do without the publicity.” To hell with the money. What was the old saying? Ah, yes, easy come, easy go. Well, in his opinion, it was worth every cent, because it had brought him closer to Kendall. “Thanks for the info.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Buchanan. I’ll fax you the details across.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

Mac closed the connection then turned to Kendall before pulling her into his arms once more. Feeling happy with the news Frank Carrell had given him, he kissed her forehead. “Did you catch any of that, honey?”

“Yes, some. Is he dead?” Mac figured she didn’t want to use the animal’s name.

“Yeah, very.”

“What happened?”

“He got careless. Too much tequila. Too many whores. The end result probably being that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and someone blew his fucking brains out.”

She shuddered. “Good. After what he did to Ashley, he deserves to burn in hell.”

“Roasting as we speak.” Mac cupped her chin and angled her face to his. “Kendall, don’t waste another thought on that lowlife prick. He’s not worth it.”

“I won’t. He’s dead. The world won’t miss him, and neither will I.” As though pushing Karl Graves from her mind, she sighed before allowing her fingers to drift across his abdomen, her touch feathering over his cock. “Go on, Mac. I want you to finish the story of your life.”

How the hell did Kendall expect him to go on with his life story when she touched his cock like that? The way her perfectly manicured fingers glided over his shaft made it impossible for him to think straight.

“I’m still waiting.” She had a husky voice, too. One that dripped concentrated sex appeal, because just the way she said those three little words, made him want to shoot his load.

Anyway, he’d struggle on as best he could, trying to ignore her tender touch and fragrant scent as she lay nestled against him. He coughed. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, so now I was thirty-two years old and ready to take on the big boys.” He stilled her hand briefly with his own. “You gotta stop doing that, honey.”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, that’s the problem.”

“Go on, boss.”

In a futile attempt to distract himself, he coughed again. “In the next couple of years I bought the Philadelphia Bugle, the Los Angeles Echo, and the New York Tribune. All of which I still own today and all of which make mega bucks for Buchanan Enterprises.” He stilled her hand for a third time before pulling it from his cock altogether. “Behave, Ms. Van Heusen, or I may have to discipline you again.”

“Promises, promises.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”