Teacher's Pet Complete Series (45 page)

I exited the sumptuous hotel suite flanked by my security and my right-hand man. I lit a cigar and smoked while we talked.

Gervais said, “I’ve communicated with Phyllis about the paperwork for the sheik. He’s looking to purchase a handful of hotels along the Atlantic Coast. And, while I’ve got you, take a look at the new marketing strategy.” He showed me his electronic tablet. The two of us stepped into the elevator, and I held up a hand to Rodger to let him know we needed privacy. The security detail could descend behind us.

I took a look at the screen and said, “No, this is too traditional. The Foster name is iconic, so we’ll capitalize on that trustworthiness. But I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and my determination and drive is what we want to push. Foster Capital Ventures is old money, and we’re infusing it with new blood, fresh life. That’s not complicated. Tell him get his thumb out his ass and gimme something I can use.”

“Very good, sir,” said Gervais.

My benevolent, negligent father, Cornelius, had handed me the reins to the East Coast division as a weak attempt at reconciliation. I was dubiously entrusted with the New York office, Excelsis. I figured he expected me to flop. I intended to excel.

We stepped out of the hotel to our waiting car. The rest of the security detail piled into a black SUV. Gervais lounged next to me on the roomy back seat of the limousine. I continued, “Excelsis—I looked it up. It roughly translates from Latin as ‘to go beyond,’ to exceed. Excess isn’t just a noun or an adjective; it’s a state of being, Gervais. Penthouse suites, impulsive international flights, these are my birthright, and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to live the lifestyle I deserve. That means nobody better fuck this presentation up today, all right?”

“Everything is in place, sir,” Gervais said.

“Get used to me, Gervais. This is who I am. I’ve been ambitious ever since I was a kid. None of this was handed to me on a silver platter. I worked my ass off for this. Excelsis is my proving ground.”

I had moved back to New York City and now rode around in fancy cars wearing suits that cost thousands, with an efficient staff behind me to keep the gears of progress well oiled. I looked out the tinted windows at the New Orleans cityscape as we neared Louis Armstrong International Airport. Five-hundred-dollar sunglasses rested on the crown of my head, and my shoes were worth a small fortune. The suit was tailor-made, a conservative dark blue piece by a designer from France.

When I inhaled, it was the aroma of a limited edition Luxe cologne that assailed my nostrils. I took a good, long whiff of the smell of money and settled comfortably into the cushy leather seats. In my new life, there was none of the inconvenience of second best. I was an alpha, a wealthy, powerful man, and there wasn’t anything that could curb my appetites.

“Your brother is on the line,” Gervais informed me, covering the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Fuck Simon,” I replied laconically. The son of a bitch was getting married in a few months, and I should have been congratulating him. The only problem was his fiancée was my ex, and the love of my life, Lynora Minnelli. Lynn was a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old from sunny California with a body like a swimsuit model. She was the only woman who could keep my fickle interest.

I turned on the lights as soon as I got inside. The floor creaked loud along with the jingling of my keys as they dropped to the floor with a sharp, metallic thud, skidding past the threshold after being kicked by the toe of my heels.

I swore under my breath and knelt down to pick them up, stumbling inside, still a little tipsy from the party. “One more drink, he said.” I started giggling to myself, but ended up groaning out loud at the headache that was looming.

As I stumbled deeper into the apartment, the empty stillness of the place was broken by the resounding
click-clack
of my heels on the hardwood of the hall floor. I navigated the winding staircase to the loft with extra care in my semi-drunken state, and I walked through the tranquility of my cerulean blue bedroom to the black and white tile of my bathroom.

While the rushing water sprayed in the basin of the tub, I pulled my red dress over my head and started shedding my underwear, standing stark naked in front of the mirror above the sink. My eyes narrowed as I peered closer at my disgruntled expression. It wasn’t the face of a woman who had just returned from a holiday party.

“What the hell is that?” I gasped.

There was a hicky on my neck from a short foray I’d had with Dillon from accounting in a supply closet. I guess I had expected his overbearing advances to be the worst he had to offer, but I guess I was wrong. Dillon plied me with drinks all night at the party, which I started turning down after about the third or fourth one, but somehow I managed to be inebriated enough to think sneaking off with him was somehow a good idea.

“Get it together, Sharon,” I said to my reflection, embarrassed at my behavior from earlier in the night. I stepped under the spray of the showerhead, mentally berating myself. I just couldn’t believe I had been so stupid! And replaying the scene in my mind didn’t help. I wished it had been someone else.

I had grabbed Dillon by the collar of his shirt and dragged him through the empty halls. Raucous holiday music and the din of close to a thousand employees assembled in the Global Beauty lobby were fading away as we moved deeper through the maze of hallways, desks, and cubicles—easy to get lost in if you wanted.

No one in the lobby even noticed us slip away. My arms were wrapped around Dillon’s neck, clawing down his back, tearing open his shirt, everywhere. He was making grunting sounds in excitement, which I found primitive and mildly disgusting, but in my state I chose to ignore it.

The door slammed shut behind us, and as he kissed down my neck, I managed to look around. It wasn’t the most romantic setting, but the excitement of getting away with sex at the office made it possible to ignore the shortcomings of the room. The supply closet was sizeable and lit by a dull fluorescent bulb that flickered with a short. Long metal shelves along the walls, home to an assortment of odds and ends, computer paper, old telephones, and other office supplies.

“Take off your pants,” I murmured breathlessly. My black lashes fanned across my angular cheeks and my red lipstick was smeared. My chest heaved, making my lush breasts rise and fall enticingly at the low neckline of my red dress. His eyes seemed to drink me in like a glass of red wine he was thirsting for.

I knew he wanted me. Most men did. It was keeping them around that was the problem. I had assets aplenty, from my dainty pedicured feet to the long, curvy legs that climbed up to my perfect, tight ass. My hourglass figure was svelte, harkening to the era when busty babes with wide hips were in fashion. Dillon could span his fingers across the slim of my waist.

As he took off his clothes, I eagerly shed what I was wearing. He dropped the pants to show off muscular thighs encased in gray boxer briefs, and I could easily trace his cock print with my eyes. An impressed smile curved my lips.

“Think you can handle this?” He leered, I guess trying to scare me off with his manly aggression and massive manhood, but I wasn’t intimidated.

I kept on my heels so we stood eye to eye as I stepped to him. “Can you handle
me
? I know you’ve wanted it for a while, but you understand my position as the director of marketing makes that impossible, right? I mean, publicly.” I smiled, inviting him to be my little secret. Maybe Dillon was different than the others. Was it possible we could date each and build a real connection? Only time would tell, it always did, but for now I didn’t want to think about it.

I pushed him hard, made him fall back into a chair with a surprised “umph” coming out of his mouth. The chair wobbled but held under his weight. He chuckled and yanked off his shirt, pulling his cock through the hole in his boxers like he was ready for me, but I doubted it. I shook a finger at him. “That’s a safety violation, Mr. Smith. You’ll need protective gear for this job.” I smiled at him seductively and dug in my purse for the handy stash of condoms I kept that were easily accessible. I ripped the wrapper open, sticking the latex circle just past my lips.

I rolled down the condom on his rigid stick with my mouth, a little trick I had learned at a sex toy party a friend held at her house last year. Dillon gripped the armrests of the chair. I twirled the head of his cock with the tip of my tongue before I parted my lips and sucked along his shaft. I made greedy slurping sounds as I rapidly sucked up and down. He gasped as his cock filled my mouth. I gently squeezed his shaft at the base while fondling his balls, rolling them around in the palm of my hand, cupping them, squeezing them slightly. “You want me, Dillon?” I asked around the mouthful.

He nodded, so I stood up from between his knees and lowered my body on his erection. “You’re going to love this. Hold on tight,” I said. His hands gripped my hips, and he guided my movement. I let him have control, let him get the feeling, of my silky, warm, soaking wet pussy.