“We’re going to be working together.” I wrapped my hands around his neck. “I don’t need my head full . . .” . . . of thoughts of you. I couldn’t say that. I didn’t want Max to think I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if we were in the office together, but frankly, it was going to be a big ask. “We should focus on the pitch.”
He nodded and captured my bottom lip between his teeth. Without thinking, I twisted my hips against his growing erection.
“If my dad suspected . . . I need to show him I’m excellent at my job, not that I got to work at King & Associates because I’m fucking the boss.”
“Focused,” he repeated. “No boss fucking.”
“I’m serious.” I pushed against his chest. “Stop thinking with your dick.”
“I’m serious, too, but you’re encouraging me.” He grinned. It was a shock because it happened so rarely. Just for a moment my heart stopped.
“Don’t grin at me, you asshole.” I tried to twist out of his arms, but he just held me closer.
“Just tonight. This is Vegas. We start with a fresh slate tomorrow morning. No fucking after tonight.”
“Vegas? Just for tonight?” I stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Wondering if I wanted him to be. Yes. Tonight would be my last with Max King. Working on this account and showing my father what he had been missing wasn’t worth risking. Not even for the King of Wall Street.
He smoothed a hand over my pussy, then pushed his fingers into my folds. “Just tonight,” he whispered.
I lost strength in my knees and stumbled.
“See what a single touch does to you? See the power I have over your body?” He removed his fingers and disappointment caught my breath. I didn’t have to answer. “You came here to get fucked, and I’m not going to disappoint you.” He bent and lifted me over his shoulder.
“I came to tell you I’d work on the account!” I yelled at his back as I kicked my legs.
“You came to get fucked.”
Well, maybe he was right about that. Except sober I’d never have risked colliding with one of his other lovers.
“Vegas,” he muttered again. “Just for one more night.”
He tipped me onto his bed, my ass bouncing on the mattress, and he grabbed my leg and pulled me toward him. “If I only get to have you for one more night, I need a memory of that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”
I sat up, my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and he stepped between my legs, cupping my head in his hand.
“You can’t just demand a blow job.”
He raised one eyebrow as if to disagree.
I shook my head and pulled down the sides of his pajamas until they hit his ankles. His cock sprang out, hard and thick.
“It seems to be working.”
I wanted to have him in my mouth, could feel myself grow wet between my thighs at the thought of his cock between my lips. But I’d clearly made it too easy for him, and I couldn’t have that.
I leaned back onto the mattress, opening my legs so my skirt bunched around my hips, then reached into my underwear. Wanting him in no doubt as to what I was doing, I hitched one leg up onto the bed to improve his view and pushed my hands deeper, finding my opening.
“Really?” he asked as he fisted his cock, dragging his hand upward.
“Ask me nicely.”
He chuckled, shook his head, and let go of his erection. His energy shifted and he leaned over, stripping me of my clothes. First my skirt, then my panties. Next he fiddled with the buttons of my blouse. He glanced at me, and it was my time to raise my eyebrow at him. “Finding that difficult?” I asked.
Without taking his eyes off me, he ripped my shirt apart. Fuck, that was silk and I’d only worn it three times. “You asshole!”
“Whatever,” he replied, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra. “If I only have tonight, I need to see these,” he said, staring at my chest as he palmed my skin and pulled at my nipples. My back arched into his touch. He was so forceful, so single-minded about sex—just as he was about everything else. To have that focus concentrated on my body was almost too much to bear.
His hands left my breasts and he dragged his palm down across my stomach until his fingers found my clit. I groaned as his thumb circled and pressed, pulling out my pleasure, inch by inch. His fingers stroked at my folds, and I threw my hands over my head, needing him to send me over the edge.
“Max,” I whispered, opening my legs wider, inviting more of him.
“You’re desperate for me. My hand is covered in you.”
I groaned at his dirty mouth. But he was right. I was desperate for him.