She was hot in her party clothes, but seeing her all dressed up, I hope one of my friends set me up and she’s here for a strip-o-gram. I doubt it, but a guy can dream. Her dress suit can’t hide those luscious curves. It tries, but my hands have been all over her and I know exactly what’s under there.
Images of that night flash through my mind, each moment clear as crystal. My hand sliding over her soft ass, the taste of her gorgeous tits, the tightness of her wrapped around me while her heels dig in like she’s wearing spurs. Her deep red hair fanned out on her pillow like a fiery halo while she moans and gasps with every thrust.
Yeah, that night has a regular spot in my spank bank.
So much that I almost went looking for her for another go, and I fucking never do that. My rules keep everyone happy, and if they don’t, well, I don’t know about it because I’m long gone. So what part of “one night only” didn’t she get?
And why is my dick thinking this isn’t a bad thing?
“What the hell are you doing—”
“What are you doing—”
We speak at once, interrupting each other. We start again, but I hold up a hand and she stops. Waiting a moment to be sure, I ask, enunciating each word clearly, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m—I’m Claire.” She’s clutching her left arm with her right, looking like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. The way it shoves up her tits, I almost miss what she said.
What is she even—Claire? My stepsister? The new intern? The girl who’s been running through my fantasies for the last couple months is about to join my fucking family?
For a long moment the room is silent. We stare at each other while Carl stands there, probably trying to think of a lame-ass joke to go with the situation. If only he knew the half of it. This whole situation is a joke.
It’s actually so fucking ridiculous that I laugh out loud. What are the odds? It takes several moments before I realize the others aren’t laughing with me. Carl’s more lost than ever and Claire’s eyes are shooting daggers. She was all meek and shit coming in, but there’s a temper under there.
I should know. I had it aimed at me while she was riding my face, and while she was ordering me to fuck her harder, and while...
Oh, I’m gonna love this.
I clear my throat. “So. Claire. You’re my new assistant? Here to work for me?” Leaning back against the edge of my desk, I cross my arms over my chest and make a show of looking her up and down. “Nice. I can already tell you’ll be well qualified for whatever position I put you in.”
Claire speaks up, her voice tight, vibrating with anger. I bet she wants to rip me up one side and down the other, but she reins it in and powers through. “Mom’s going to kill me, because I’m already messing this up, but if that’s how you’re going to be, then obviously this isn’t going to work. I’ll see myself out.”
“Mr. Riordan.” She adds it like it’s a dirty word.
I want to hear that while she’s on her knees.
Which isn’t going to happen if she walks out the door. “Claire, wait.”
Carl looks taken aback, and that’s no mean feat. If anyone rolls with the blows around here, it’s him. His face swivels back and forth between us so quickly I’m worried it’s gonna fucking pop off. “Do you two know each other? I thought you said you’d never met your stepsister.”
I grin, looking right into Claire’s beautiful brown eyes. “As it turns out, we’ve bumped into each other a few times, but just never been formally introduced.” Her eyes widen as she catches my double entendre. “Just a funny coincidence.”
To be honest, I don’t want a fucking stepsister. More importantly, I want her mom out of the picture. She’s bitchy, unpleasant and if she hadn’t already signed the pre-nup, I’d figure she was just getting hitched to Dad for his money. Hell, she’s even started redecorating Dad’s house—basically pissing all over Mom’s memory—and she hasn’t even moved in yet.
But now that I know who her daughter is, that complicates matters. I haven’t been able to get Claire out of my mind after that night, and that never fucking happens. Never. Her coming back into my life like this has to be some twisted sort of fate, or karma or whatever the fuck you want to call it.
If fate wants me to hit it twice, who am I to say no?
My first thought is that I want to tear her clothes off and fuck her silly, but the way she’s looking at me right now, I think she’d be more likely to bite off my dick. Maybe if I can get Carl out of the room. The thought’s tempting, but I can’t think like that. Claire’s sexy, but she’s not worth destroying my career over.