Survival of the Fiercest (13 page)

“Keep touching yourself,” he says, advancing on me, his cock springing to attention. My strokes increase. “You look like an angel,” he breathes. “I’m going to buy you more of these outfits—red, pink, white.” His voice gets deeper. “And I’m going to fuck you in all of them.”

I quiver at his declaration. I’m drenched, and feeling my own arousal makes me even hotter. “I think I want you.” My voice is coy as I hold up my glistening fingers under his rapt attention. His lips part, and his muscles clench in anticipation. He reaches for me, but I swing my leg up and place my shoe on his chest, keeping him from advancing. He grabs my shoe and slips it off, then removes the other. I prop onto my elbows and let my red-tipped toes slide down his torso. He grows even harder under my scrutiny.

“Look at what you do to me,” he says, standing very straight, his muscled thighs flexing and his erection poised and ready. I meet his heavy-lidded gaze before falling back down to the steel pillar jutting toward me. He’s perfectly formed, I think—thick, proud, subtly curved. I swallow hard as my mouth starts to water.

Rising onto all fours, I move toward him, stopping just inches from his powerful shaft. Evan is spellbound, watching me, quaking with anticipation as I raise my chin and give the velvety head a tiny lick. His neck strains as the object of my attention jumps and pulses just inches from my face. My woman’s power rises inside me again. I can’t remember the last time I felt so good, so sexual…so fierce.

Looking into Evan’s eyes, I lick my lips, then rub them over the head before taking his cock fully into my mouth, drawing him farther with a deep, strong suck. My cheeks hollow around his thick, smooth length, and the helpless moan that bursts from his lips fuels me. His hips jerk forward, and his eyes roll back into his head. Wrapping my hand around the base, I swirl my tongue around the head, then begin a slow up-and-down motion.

He’s panting, cupping my head with a quivering hand while I continue in a steady, savoring rhythm. My hardened nipples strain painfully against my bra. Widening my thighs for leverage, I grasp his hips and press his cock deep into my throat. My nose nuzzles the soft thatch at the base.

“Oh God, baby,” he pleads. He’s quaking, groaning deep in his throat as I work him over with my mouth, changing speeds and positions, taking him deeper. I slip my hand under and cup him, hefting his delicate sac with a light squeeze. A raspy moan drags from his lips, and his fingers latch onto my hair.

Evan’s body is taught, his breathing is erratic, and his dick is solid and pulsing against my tongue. His climax is close, and the thought of tasting his orgasm unlocks my carnal beast. Pulling him to the back of my throat, I slide my hand down and slip my hand under his balls. I give a light squeeze, and his whole body stiffens. His hand in my hair clenches, his hips buck, and he lets out a ragged shout as he climaxes. I swallow his semen as hot spurts lash the walls of my throat.

Releasing him, I slide onto my heels and watch him struggle to catch his breath. He looks at me, dumbfounded. “Your mouth is like heaven.” His gaze dips into my cleavage. “Just like the rest of you.” His voice has dropped to a whisper.

I slide backward and stand on my knees, so he can get a better view, flipping my hair around for maximum pinup-girl effect. My body is aching for release, but I’ve just finished him off. I resign to wait, but I like his gaze on me. I trail my fingertips over the cups of my bra and flip them under my breasts, exposing and caressing my tight nipples. His lips part.

Evan reaches for my breasts, but I slap his hand away. His brow rises in question. I smirk.

“You’re feeling very in control right now, aren’t you?” he asks low, bending toward the bed.

Coquettish, I nod.

In a flash, I’m in his arms and on my back, held in a safe cradle underneath him on the bed. Evan ravages my mouth, taking my breath away. My heart is hammering when he breaks our kiss and pins me with his gaze. His warm lips latch on to my breast, and my body quivers at his relentless sucking. I need to orgasm.

Trapping me with his upper body, he brushes aside my panties and slides through the wetness between my legs. We both groan when he inserts two fingers.

“Please…” I beg.

“Please what?” His voice is full of need.

“Please, fuck me,” I plead, my lids heavy, my body ready to burst.

“Fuck you how?”

“Any way you want.” I say, lost in sexual need.

“What if I want to fuck you hard?”

I moan as he inserts another finger, and I wriggle against his hand to ease my swollen clit. He won’t let me, holding me steady with his palm, his blue eyes boring into mine. All I can do is nod.

He flips me onto my stomach and props me onto my knees. I steady myself on my elbows, and my breasts swing forward, grazing the duvet. I peek at him over my shoulder. He is on his knees behind me. His gaze is wild and focused, and his cock is at the ready, like a sword. Pulling aside the scrap of fabric covering my bottom, he slaps a heavy palm on my cheek and squeezes, closing his eyes. Then he gives me another thwack—the heat on my bottom feels delicious.

Reaching between my legs from behind, he finds my clit and caresses me. I moan and push back onto his fingers.

“Say something in French to me…” he says softly, coaxing my hips to move.

“
J’ai besoin que tu me baises
.”

He groans. “What’d you say?”

“I need you to fuck me,” I say over my shoulder. I emphasize it by circling my hips on his fingers.

He bites down on his lip. “I’ll fuck you any way you want—all the ways you want.”

The earnestness in his voice makes me pause.

“Reach into that drawer and get me a condom,” he commands.

I tremble and stretch to the night table, feeling my breasts swing. He replaces his fingers with the crown of his erection, sliding it up and down my slick folds. Reaching in the drawer, I pull out a magnum and place the gold foil on my lower back. On impulse, I push onto him a bit, anchoring the head of him into my pussy.
Now who’s in charge?

Evan grips my hips and clenches his jaw, the columns of his throat pop as he battles for control. He buckles and pulls back, gathering his breath and shooting me a challenging look. “Woman…you are asking for it…” he says, rolling on the condom. With lightning speed, he buries himself inside me, and I scream from surprise, then from pure pleasure. All my thoughts fall away as he gives it to me just as he’d promised—fast and hard.

Hooking himself around me, he finds my breasts and hefts them into his warm palms as he plunges into me again and again. My body is about to burst, and my hair whips his face as I toss my head to cry out.

“Evan. Mmmmm…”

“I have you, baby,” he rasps, grinding his hips against me, pinching and tweaking my nipples.

“Don’t stop…” I whimper.

“Never.” He pants, kissing my spine and sliding one hand between my legs. I’m grasping at his pillows, circling my hips onto him as he thrusts, matching his rhythm until I come, clutching the duvet and letting go with a long, heavy cry. Evan sinks forward to the hilt, then comes, pumping uncontrollably before going limp.

Our ragged breath fills the room. Evan withdraws, throws away the condom, and scoops me up to lay lengthwise with him on the bed. I’m decimated, but Evan is still on fire, kissing me deep and long. He’s growing rigid again, and I’m absently shifting with him, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs to take his hips.

Rolling on another condom, he enters me, looking deep into my eyes. A moan rips from his chest as he moves like a wave on top of me, stroking inside of me, setting a rhythm that has me building again quickly.

Evan drops his head onto my neck, his breathing rough and labored in my ear. He’s talking, telling me how good I feel, how bad he felt about our fight, and how much he wanted to hold me this morning. I run my hands down his arms and hitch my legs over his shoulders.

He props himself on his arms and thrusts deep into my pussy without restraint, forcing my legs wider, pushing me up farther on the bed. I grab his wrists for support. He increases his speed, pounding faster. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge.

My orgasm slams into me. The strength of it bursts through my body, expanding me, breaking me apart. My cry is hoarse and raw, unable to find breath to carry it. Aftershocks bolt through me as Evan’s hips still pitch and grind against me. I draw in breath and hold on for dear life. His body tightens, and a short yell fills my ears as he shudders once, then twice, before collapsing on top of me.

Sweat sheened, we catch our breath. Evan pulls me to his chest and studies my face. The longest pause stretches between us, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s as if we’ve known each other forever. He twirls my hair, letting it grab onto his fingers while I trace his tattoos. He lowers his gaze as if in thought, and I wonder if he is thinking the same thing.

Evan discards the condom before coming back to the bed and gathering me to his chest. I think more about our conversation at dinner. Would he call me if he came to New York? I imagine us walking around my neighborhood, but I frown—he was just talking about hypothetical future plans—plans that probably wouldn’t happen until next year, when our time together would be a distant memory.

Chapter Fifteen

When I get to the office the next morning, the receptionist hands me some letters that would normally be sent to my apartment. I shove them in my blazer pocket. Well, it’s Evan’s blazer pocket, which makes me smile. Last night, and this morning, was amazing. With each step, my muscles twinge and ache, and I’ve had to stifle a yawn or two, but I’m looking forward to a repeat tonight. This time I’ll pack a bag first.

The receptionist tells me everyone is waiting in the fishbowl and congratulates me on Fierce’ s acquisition. “Thank you,” I say and wonder what will happen to her job.

Inside the conference room, a sandwich platter and an assortment of cupcakes grace the center of the oval table. And a bottle of champagne is chilling in the corner. There is a seat open right next to Lou, a contract and a pen waiting patiently for me on the tabletop.

Mr. Khan rises from his chair when I enter, and I’m thankful that Evan’s black blazer doesn’t look too bad over my leather dress. With his waxy smile, Khan introduces his staff. He brought his assistant, an Asian twentysomething who looks like a Bond girl, his legal team, his ad sales team, the PR team, and a woman named Paula who introduces herself as my general manager. Wait a minute. I already have a general manager. Don’t I?

“Why is that woman telling me she is my general manager?” I whisper to Lou as I take my seat. “I’m allowed to keep my team; Tina is my team.”

“Tina will get a nice severance package. Don’t worry,” he says. I stiffen and stare him down until he looks me in the eyes.

“Does she know?”

“Tina knows everything,” he says.

“You should have told me,” I say, angry and confused.

Lou shrugs, and I am suddenly ready to sign over my life to get the hell away from this man. In my heart, I know Tina would want me to do what’s best for Fierce. Plus who doesn’t want a fat severance package? She could take some time off or retire. I’ll call her when I get out of here.

I eye a delicious-looking pink cupcake as we cover the main financial talking points of Fierce’s absorption into Viper—my salary, which is a nice increase, my staff budget, our contributor’s budget, and operating expenses for our New York office. It’s a great setup, and the minute New York is mentioned, I think of Evan. I try to dream up reasons why I would have to stay in San Francisco a little longer. He was so cute this morning. My body warms just thinking about it. Waking up with a man’s head between your legs should be an assumed rule, like Corona served with a lime.

“Now let’s review your content stipulations.”

Content stipulations?

“So with this contract, you agree to targeting a demographic from eighteen to forty-nine with sixty percent of the content targeted to Caucasian women, twenty percent African American, and twenty percent other.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, scrunching my face. I review the contract and see the stipulations hiding in the middle of the paragraph. I shake my head rapidly. “I agreed to add celebrity gossip content. That’s it. My audience is ninety percent people of color, which you know. I never agreed to change the direction of the website.”

“Our analytics team has found that we can make a lot more money on ad sales if we target the Caucasian market.”

My jaw drops.

“I thought you wanted to break into my current demographic,” I say, my voice rising. “You said you were happy with the way my readers responded to the Josie piece.”

“We are very happy with the Josie piece, and we want more, geared toward Caucasian women. And no more of those features on the kids from the street.”

Still in shock, I swallow hard. “I saw the analytics on the kids’ piece. Six thousand views is nothing to sneeze at.”

“It’s not sexy,” Khan says, waving his hand in the air. “We want sleek, fabulous, glam. Not dirty, gritty, gutter stories.”

I clench my fists. “That is
not
a gutter story. It’s triumphant.”

“Well, it’s not for us,” Mr. Khan says through tight lips.

“Lex, I think what Mr. Khan means is—”

“Shut up, Lou. I know what he means.” Pausing, I scan the sea of faces staring at me from around the oval table. My stomach has been turning about this sale for days, and now I know why. These people are like the Borg. They destroy all that is unique and assimilate it into their drone-like folds. My instincts have been warning me. Now I am going to listen. Putting my pen down, I stare daggers at Khan.

“He means that the multicultural community—the minorities, the gray area, the
other
—is a poor investment.” I stare at the Asian Bond girl, who lowers her eyes, and then I turn back to Khan. “Well, I am other. I am the gray area. I am multicultural, and I think
you
are a poor investment.” I stand up and shove my chair out of my way.

“Everyone at this table, and I mean everyone,” I say glancing at Lou, “can go
fuck
themselves!” The room gasps at my statement and ohhhs when I rip up the contract, letting the two pieces fall to the table.