“You own the Delecta?” I felt my jaw hanging open. So not just panty melting hot, but a billionaire? As in, actually having and controlling assets worth multiple billions of dollars? I was so completely out of my league. I was a junior accountant in a modestly-sized firm. This man could have his arms draped in supermodels in the blink of an eye.
“I own Kane Enterprises, which owns the Delecta, yes.” He steered me into an empty elevator while I stared and tried to absorb this information. What was he doing with me?
3
Dylan
She didn’t get it, and why would she? That just made my task easier. I understood women, got their strange thoughts about men and food and their appearance. I knew way too much about the affect money and power had on some of them. I knew the grasping and the lies, their need to take. I’d see soon enough if this girl was one of those.
I doubted it. She probably thought she was overweight and boring, wondering why I’m not calling up a showgirl or a model instead of her. By the time I was finished with her, she’d know the truth.
She was luminous, her creamy skin soft under my hand, her grey eyes clear and honest. Her tits jiggled a little with every step, her rounded hips moved with a natural, sensual sway. Just the idea of getting her naked, seeing all that sweet flesh bare, was enough to get my cock half-hard. She had to be in her mid-twenties, but she radiated innocence. I missed innocence. Lately, I’d come to crave it, to need the clean feel of someone who wasn’t scheming. I missed people who weren’t trying to get something from me.
I looked her over as she shifted from one foot to the other, too shy to meet my eyes. Delicious. I couldn’t decide where to start—with those soft, full, perfect tits? Would she be one of those women who could come just from having her tits sucked? From the way she shivered when I touched her, I bet she would.
Or I could shock her, and go straight for that sweet pussy. I guessed it saw little use. If she’d seen a lot of action, she would have been more at ease with her body. This girl was barely a woman, and she had no idea what she was, and what she could be.
I was the man who was going to show her.
4
Leigha
I kept my mouth shut all the way to his office, not sure what to say. I felt less anxious about being alone with him, at least in the sense of safety. The head of Kane Enterprises wouldn’t bring me to his office if he planned to hurt me. I still didn’t understand what he was doing with me. I wished I would have had another drink, but I was wobbling a little in my heels, and knew he was right. What I needed was food.
The elevator doors opened to an elegant reception area, done in sleek grey with black and red accents, the same colors as the hotel. Behind the desk sat a gorgeous blonde in a trim black suit, her pale hair in a neat twist. This was the kind of woman I’d expect to see with Dylan. She was polished, beautiful, composed, and devastatingly sexy. At the sound of the door opening, she came to her feet.
“Mr. Kane,” she said. “Your food will be delivered shortly.”
“Thank you, Cheryl. Please hold any calls.”
I barely caught her nod before he ushered me through the tall, black double doors that led to his office. The single room was bigger than my entire bungalow. His desk was enormous, lacquered black wood with a matching leather desk chair behind it. A flat screen television was mounted on the wall opposite the desk, viewable from the black leather sofa and matching chairs that faced the window facing the door. The plate-glass window made up the entire wall, offering a panoramic view of Vegas and the desert beyond. I stopped and stared for a moment, taking in the luxury around me.
“I’d offer you wine,” he said, drawing my attention, “but I think a coffee might be more in order.” He raised an eyebrow, inviting my opinion.
“Please,” I said. Coffee was a great idea. Some caffeine would clear the hot guy haze, and wash away some of the alcohol. Okay, it wouldn’t do anything about the alcohol, but at least it would make me more alert. I had the feeling I’d need to be alert with Dylan Kane. He pressed a button on his desk phone.
“Cheryl, two cappuccinos, please.” Turning to the couch, he gestured to the comfortable seats. “Please, sit.”
Again, I did as he ordered. What was it about him? I could be a pleaser. I knew that about myself. But normally I wouldn’t be jumping at the commands of a stranger. I’d maybe obey my boss without thinking. But a man I’d just met? There was something about the way Dylan spoke that captivated me, making me do as he said.
He was a charming man, obviously raised to be incredibly polite. But, though he said ‘please’, it was clear he wasn’t asking. And something about that was intriguing. Ever since he’d touched my face in the bar, my body had been humming at his presence. I wanted him to touch me again. I knew it wasn’t wise, but I wasn’t sure I cared.