Page 17 of A Man of Wealth

She narrows her eyes. “Fuck you. I’m done here. You think I’m such a horrible person, then why the hell are we here right now, riddle me that, Mr. Shit for Brains?”

“Because you wanted to get information from Jared that was going to serve a purpose for both of us; it’s a symbiotic relationship, but maybe you don’t understand what that means…” I walk her backward until her back hits the elevator doors and I lean down so our eyes are nearly level. “It means that you needed me, and I needed you, and if we worked together, we’d both get what we needed. Or maybe, that was never your endgame.”

Her lavender scent fills my flared nostrils. I swear she softly whimpers as she looks into my eyes. “I hate you,” she whispers as she licks her lips. I watch her little pink tongue dart out from between them and suddenly my cock is standing at full attention beneath my slacks.

“I hate you more,” I reply as I lose all my self-control and lean down, crashing my lips against hers. Our mouths meet in a torrent of emotions that begin to battle in my brain as I thrust my tongue against hers. She moans and I can hear the lust and frustration fighting in her sound. Her hands come to my shoulders, and for a split second, I think she’s going to push me away, but then she surprises me and pulls me closer.

I reach down and grip her ass, hauling her up my body as her legs wrap around my waist, her skirt hiking up in the process, exposing her flesh to my palms. I walk toward my room leaning my backside against the lock so that the key in my pocket activates it. It opens and I press my elbow down on the handlebar and push us inside. I swat her ass. She lets out another groan, only this time it’s pure lust. I slam her against the wall and deepen our kiss as my right hand moves toward her center, my finger tracing the outer edge of her lace panties. I can feel her wetness on the fabric. I suddenly don’t want to feel any clothing; I want her naked. I want to feel her skin sliding across mine. I blindly search for the zipper of her dress. I find it and slowly pull it down, exposing an inch of her side at a time. She’s not wearing a bra and I grin against her lips like a boy who just discovered his birthday gift has been hidden in plain sight.

Her fingers begin fumbling with the buttons of my shirt as I try to extricate her arm from the strap of the dress. We are a frenzy of movement, yet I keep one hand under her, stroking her wet flesh through the thin fabric of her panties.

She releases her legs from my hips and slides down my front letting her dress fall to the ground as she pushes my shirt open and begins working on my pants. I look down at her exquisite body. She’s ten times more gorgeous than I thought possible. And when she stands back up after yanking my pants and boxer briefs down with one pull, I’m treated to a sight I wasn’t expecting. Above her hip bone is a small tattoo of a horse. It’s a black silhouette. Unexpected. Everything about this woman is unexpected. I look to my right and find the sofa, the arm of it is the perfect height for what I have in mind. I finish pulling off my pants, underwear, and socks after kicking off my shoes. She reaches for her heels, and I stop her, shaking my head as I spin her around and bend her over the sofa’s arm. I can’t help myself as I palm her ass cheek and then slap it. I’m pleased with the pink mark left behind.

She turns her head. “What’s that for?”

“That’s for fucking driving me crazy,” I growl.

I reach to the floor and pull out the condom I keep in my wallet for such occasions and make quick work of putting it on. I run one hand down her back before pulling her panties down her legs. They fall to her ankles. I look back up at her exposed pussy. Running a single finger through her wet folds, I slide it inside her and then add another, scissoring them until I feel she’s ready for me. I might be an asshole, but I’d never intentionally hurt a woman, even if I want to hate-fuck her.

I lean forward over her until my lips are nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Hang on tight,” I whisper as I line myself up with her entrance and sink into her in one long thrust.

Chapter8

Vivienne

I let outa gasp as I feel Conner fill me in a single thrust. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex, and I was in no way thinking I’d be having sex tonight, and especially not with Conner Sterling. I arch back as he pulls out and thrusts in again. I match his pace as we violently slam into each other, over and over. I grip the couch cushions. The girth of his erection stings as he moves inside me, but I don’t care. I like the pain. It makes me feel alive. It reminds me how much I hate this man. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I don’t care. If having him this one time gets it out of my system, then bring it, Pound.

Neither of us speaks, we emit groans and grunts as our bodies slap together. Both of us greedily chase our own release. I reach down between my legs, knowing that if I can just rub my clit the right way, I can finally have the orgasm I’ve been needing for weeks, the one that no amount of battery-operated boyfriends can provide me.

Suddenly, my hand is slapped away. I start to protest until I feel Conner’s thick fingers against my clit. His movements become rough, matching mine. I try to bring my hand back. He sandwiches my fingers between his and together our fingers circle my clit. But he’s in control, not letting me move how I need to, how I want to.

“Conner!” I whimper.

“Not yet,” he growls as he picks up the pace. Damn him and his fucking need for control! I start bucking against his hand, searching for the friction I’m craving in my delusional state of near ecstasy.

His pace quickens and he finally gives me what I need. My hand drops away, as I relinquish control to his ministrations, and damn it if he doesn’t play my body like a violin.

“Oh God!” I cry out as I reach my climax. I hear him grunt from behind me as he slams into me once more. His body gives a shake as mine goes rigid, both of us momentarily lost in the depths of our releases.

I feel myself sinking against the sofa, all my muscles relax for a few seconds as my breathing goes back to normal. I slowly realize the gravity of what has just happened. No. No, no, no. I can’t sleep with Conner Sterling. What the fuck was I thinking? I mean, it was fucking good, but no.

I squirm beneath him, and he pulls out of me, making me wince a little. I reach down and pull my underwear up as he leans over the sofa and grabs a tissue, handing it to me while he turns to dispose of the condom that he somehow managed to put on. I quickly do my best to clean up, but it’s no use. I just need to get out of here. I find my dress on the floor and start putting it on. My legs are shaky from the heels and bending over for so long. I go to put a hand on the wall as I try to pull my zipper up, when Conner’s hand wraps around my waist, drawing me back against him. He’s still gloriously naked and I can feel all of him against my backside.

I swallow. Why am I so nervous? I put on my proverbial big-girl panties and slowly turn to face him. My eyes momentarily look him up and down. Holy. Shitballs. This man is…just wow. He’s tall, that I knew, he’s muscular, but not like a bodybuilder. His muscles are large but only because he is large. His body is perfection. He must work out at least two hours a day. He looks like a fitness instructor or a model. Except for his tattoos, he has so many tattoos. Down his side, over part of his chest, and up toward his neck. On both his arms and one thigh. I could spend hours analyzing all of them. I have so many questions. I look and find him watching me. He has zero shame about his body. He knows he’s good-looking, what an ass.

“I should go,” I mutter as I try to yank on the zipper again.

“Allow me,” he says as he reaches out and bats my hand away, he slowly tugs on the zipper and pulls it up one inch at a time as though he’s fascinated by how zippers work. “There,” he says as he finishes and steps back to admire his handywork as if zipping dresses takes skills.

I look around the room at his clothes that still lie on the floor. “We shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have…” I trail off at a loss for words, which is a first.

I feel his hand come up to my chest and then my neck where his thumb pauses on my carotid artery for a brief moment before he moves up to my jaw. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forces my face up to meet his gaze.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have, but I’m not sorry that I did. I don’t want to admit we have chemistry any more than you do, but damn it if we don’t.” He looks away and I frown at the pained expression on his face. He drops his hand from my chin. “Go. You’re right. We’ll keep it strictly professional from here out.”

I nod in confusion and walk to the door. “Goodnight, Conner.”

“Goodnight, Vivienne,” he replies as he stares out the sliding door window toward the Washington Monument, his reflection a mixture of anger and confusion that mirrors my own feelings. He picks up his phone and types a message. Perfect, he’s already moving on to work, and I haven’t even made it to the door yet. I reach for the handle.

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