Page 1 of Seductive Scoundrel

Chapter One

Dean

The only thingbigger than my wallet is my dick. It’s not easy being a one-of-a-kind guy, but somebody’s gotta do it, and that somebody is me. Getting cock blocked isn’t my norm, and I’m still smarting from last night when I wasthis closeto sliding inside a total dime.

Until she told me that she had to go home and feed her dog.

I know.

It sounds like total bullshit, except for the fact that we were dry humping at a masquerade party, and she was very clearly into it. Even though I couldn’t convince her to take the damn Venetian feather mask off – or even tell me her name – every other breath was a plea, and she was all but crying for the D.

My slacks are still wet from her needy pussy.

This is why I’m standing in my immaculate kitchen tossing my phone from hand to hand while I decide what I’m going to do about the number hastily scrawled on a napkin while my morning espresso brews in an imported Italian machine. She told me that she wants to continue where we left off with one caveat.

Little Miss Cock Tease wants a dick pic.

And I don’t send dick pics.

It’s not that my member isn’t worthy of photography – it is. But I built my empire from creating and then selling technology companies, and I’m not keen on digital images of what I’m packing circulating the World Wide Web. It’s not my style, and has never been an issue because I don’t need to convince women to bang me.

They beg for it. Every single time.

Besides, with the most lucrative offer I’ve ever seen waiting for my decision, I don’t have time to mess around with random chicks. There are plenty of available women if I need to get my dick wet, and no one is worth chasing.

But I can’t get her out of my damn head.

It couldn’t hurt to take the picture and then decide what to do with it. I’ve been walking around with a semi since getting out of bed, and thoughts of my mystery belle’s rocking body take me the rest of the way there without so much as laying a hand on myself.

I don’t even know the logistics of a dick pic – What angle? Should my hand be in it? – but I’m not about to google it. So, I move to the leather couch in my sunken living room, the floor-to-ceiling windows bathing the room in sunlight, and just go for it. I grip the base of my cock and squeeze before snapping a picture, and even I’m impressed by the shadow it casts.

Fuck it. Or YOLO as the millennials I hire would say.

Before I can change my mind, I type in her number and load the image while trying to decide on a caption. My cock doesn’t require an introduction, and I’m certain she’s going to be sorry that she left me high and dry last night after she gets a look. Lucky for her, I can clear my morning and fuck her so good that she won’t be able to walk for a week without thinking of me.

Dean: As requested by the masquerade tease ;) Let’s pick up where we left off before your dog duties called you away. Now that you’ve seen my dick, do I get to know your name or maybe see your face?

When I don’t get an immediate response, I set my phone down in annoyance and head back to my espresso. My kitchen is granite, stainless steel, and full of expensive appliances and gadgets I rarely use. Every room in my penthouse has a view of Central Park, including the kitchen if one was so inclined to stand at the sink and do dishes.

When it appears that my fair lady isn’t going to answer – and what the actual fuck is that about? – I decide to carry on with my plans for the day, namely going over the proposal from Dexter Truitt Senior of Montague Enterprises with a fine-tooth comb. I need to decide if I’m willing to sell my latest brainchild, Seneca Incorporated, to him with a contract to keep running operations for three years.

The number he’s offering is astronomical and much higher than even my most generous evaluation of the company. I can’t understand why he’s so interested unless it’s me specifically that he wants to entice.

And he certainly has my attention. During our one phone conversation, he made mention of there being a place for me to run mergers and acquisitions for him when the contract expires.

But his offer was completely random and I don’t believe in coincidences.

I’m on the phone talking to the retired cop who I use to run background checks when a vibration notifies me that I’m getting an incoming text. The little lady likes to make me wait, but her reply has finally arrived.

Mia: Wow, that’s what I missed out on? Quite a sight to wake up to. I’m Mia and I can officially say it’s really nice to meet you.

“Are we good, Gordon?” I ask. “When can you have the report over to me?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he confirms.

“Perfect. I need to make a decision soon.”

“It seems that Dexter Senior has a son who runs the company now. Dex Truitt Junior. I’ll run a detailed report on him, too.”

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