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CHAPTER ONE
Layla
“No, that’s not acceptable. Those flowers have to be here in two hours. If they’re not, you can be sure my father’s company will be ending any and all business relationships with you in the future,” I said matter-of-factly into the phone.
I wasn’t usually that mean to Fabian, but he couldn’t call me three hours before the party and try to cancel my order. It wasn’t just any party, it was the thirtieth anniversary party for our family business, Lenhardt’s Creations. We had to make a good impression on all of Dad’s friends, colleagues, and the political figures that would be attending. Hell, the governor’s first assistant had RSVPed yes, something that could only mean the governor’s approval. I looked over to my desk, and my eyes fell on the framed picture. It was of Mom and me on the fifteenth anniversary. It was the first party I’d been allowed to attend and, ironically enough, the last party she’d gone to before the cancer finally took her.
In the photo, I was wearing a white lace dress with cap sleeves and a little bow in the back. It’d made me feel like a child, and I remember arguing with Mom about it at the store. I begged for the spaghetti-strapped red dress with the back slit, but Mom had refused. We’d gotten in a fight that had pushed her into a coughing fit. The cancer had been weakening her by the day at that point. When she’d finally managed to calm herself down, she’d pulled me close and captured my chin in her hands.
“Layla, one day I won’t be here,” she’d started, and my eyes had begun to tear up. “And when that day comes, it’ll be up to you to help Dad. He’ll need you. He likes to pretend he’s all powerful and has no weakness, but he’s wrong. I run that business just as much as he does, and I work twice as hard to make it seem like I don’t.”
“But why, why don’t you take the credit?”
“Because it’s not about credit. It’s about supporting your father’s dream. He knows what I do, and he’s always grateful. That’s enough for me.”
“But…”
“No.” She placed a light finger over my lips. “I need you to promise me, when I’m gone, you’ll take care of Dad. He can’t do it alone.”
I’d looked down at the ground, anxiety wrapping me up in a scratchy blanket of worry. “I don’t know how to help. What do I do?”
“Watch me tonight. I’ll show you.”
And so, I did. I wore the dress and stood by her side all night. I watched as she greeted guests, checked on the food, had harsh words when the valets had tried to sneak booze, and danced with Dad while everyone watched. That was when I started to notice her impact. Mom would chat with a couple and leave them laughing and smiling and drinking. Then, a few minutes later, Dad would have one of them pulled to the side, presumedly talking about some work deal. I heard people talking about how wonderful the party was and how much Winston Lenhardt cared about his employees. The party wasn’t just a party. It was a marketing tool. And Mom? She was the mastermind behind all of it.
Mom passed later that year, and I vowed again on her deathbed to take care of Dad. There had been a few mishaps over the years. Like when I’d ordered fish from that market on Third Street, and they delivered the food with the head attached and glaring up at everyone. At least six women screamed and two more fainted. And then there was that time the band canceled at the last minute, and I’d accepted their substitute without listening to their work. They’d been terrible, and I had to switch to a playlist made on my phone. But over the years, I liked to think I’d perfected being a host for Dad’s parties. And tonight would be no different.
Assuming, of course, the flowers arrived on time, and the champagne thawed out from that awful freezer truck delivery. Our regular truck had been pulled suddenly for some kind of time sensitive delivery. We were using the backup and, in my opinion, this one was on its last leg. But if the flowers didn’t arrive on time, I had fake flowers in the attic just in case I ever needed them, and there had to be at least one magical being around who had a heating touch to thaw the bubbly. I think my best friend Brooklynne mentioned something about her boyfriend Drake and the hot water heater … so there was that option. And since he was on his way to act as security for the party, I at least knew I could probably use his help.
Not publicly though. Dad didn’t like the magical community doing any kind of spells in the house. He’d said he was a proud mortal who built everything the mortal way, and he didn’t need magic to enhance his life. Mind you, I didn’t feel the same way. I was quite fond of magic, but I didn’t want to press Dad’s buttons tonight. He was stressed enough.
I checked my phone for what was probably the seventy-sixth thousandth time in the last hour. My to-do list, while nearly done, still had a few things on it. But I still allowed myself a moment to look out the window and take a couple of deep breaths. I didn’t know how my mom did this kind of thing, but it wore me out. Between working fifty to sixty hours a week on a new product campaign with the marketing team, this party, and just basic necessities of keeping myself alive, I was worn out. I needed a break, or a pick-me-up, or a spa day…or a man. It’d been a few months since I’d been with a good man and, damn, if I wasn’t craving it a little extra today. It’d be like getting in a good stretch after a workout.
But I didn’t have time for that right now, nor did I even know who I wanted to call for that. I did have a couple names on the roster I could call, but part of me wanted something fresh. I’d have to wait. Brooklynne and I could go out clubbing next weekend and I could find a new conquest. But now I needed to go check that everything was fine with Dad’s tux. Last night he’d mentioned something about that awful, checkered cummerbund. I’d hidden it, of course, so he wouldn’t wear it, but he tended to be a tricky one.
I headed to his room, still clad in my pajamas, rollers in my hair, and cooling patches under my eyes. I always got ready last. I could be late to the party. It was kinda fun to make an entrance down the giant staircase in the middle of our foyer, all eyes staring up at me as I sashayed my way down as if I were a movie star.
“Dad, where are you?” His room was massive with an office cut out, a walk-in closet the size of some boutique stores, a bathroom with a sauna in it, and a sitting room with a massive fireplace. Never mind the bed and dressers.
“In here, kiddo,” he called from the sitting room.
I shuffled my feet over the soft cream carpet to the couch in the sitting room. He’d been standing by the fireplace, one hand on the mantel, the other on his lapel, his eyes on the giant family portrait he’d commissioned Brooklynne’s dad to paint. I was ten in the picture and sitting on a dark green chair. My parents stood on either side of me, staring at each other, so in love. Sometimes, when I missed Mom, I’d sit in here, light a fire, and read out loud, as if she was listening to me. It was a dumb habit, and I knew she wasn’t really there, but it didn’t matter. It helped me feel close to her. Of course, I only read the spicy ones. They were her favorite.
I often caught Dad talking to the portrait, his own way of coping with her absence. I guess tonight was one of those nights. Dad turned to me, and I sighed. He was so handsome. His blond hair had streaks of barely visible white in it and was gelled back so not a strand was out of place. His light skin had little freckles all over it, kisses from the stars he’d always said, and it glowed in the firelight. He didn’t believe in any kind of physical enhancements, surgical or magical, and claimed that if he looked fake, it’d reflect poorly on the company. So, his smile lines showed, and his crow’s feet wrinkled, and his beard was now more white than blond. But I think it added to his charm. He was tall and strong, with the slightest bit of a tummy from all the sweets he snuck at night. But in a tux, with his signature cummerbund, it was hardly noticeable.
He walked over to the couch and sat down next to me. “Hi, Layla. Everything ready for tonight?”
“Yes, it’ll be the best party you’ve ever had.”
“I don’t think so. I believe there’s something you forgot.”
My eyes grew wide, and I started internally going through my party checklist. Quick as a whip, I flew through it with nothing but checks. The cake was in the kitchen, the food was almost ready, and I’d personally tasted everything. I could explain the champagne. And I had a plan for the flowers and…
“Don’t worry,” he said, interrupting my panic. “This one thing, I handled personally.” He pulled a box with a pale blue bow on it out from behind one of the couch cushions. “I had this made for you.”
I accepted the box and opened it gently, trying not to disturb the beautiful ribbon too much. Inside the box was a cushioned jewelry case. Dad took it from me and opened it slowly. Inside the case was the most beautiful diamond necklace I’d ever seen. The chain was platinum and held a pendant in the shape of a star made fully of diamonds. But it was the stone in the middle that took my breath away. It had to be at least four carats, and it didn’t take a jeweler’s eye to see that it was perfectly clear and, if I didn’t know better, magically infused to shine.
“Dad,” I’d started but stopped as I was just lost for words.
I, being the shopaholic that I was, had a pretty good idea what something like this would cost. And while my dad was generous, this was too much. People bought cars for less.
“Shhhh,” he insisted. Then he took it out of the box and motioned for me to turn around. He placed it around my neck and closed the clasp.
I touched it gently, ensuring it was really there and I hadn’t imagined the beautiful gift.
“You are my gift from the stars, and I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the last several years without you. And tonight, this party is celebrating you just as much as it is me. So, Layla,” he said and then turned me around to look at him. “Congratulations on your first successful five years in business. I am honored to have you on the team and, since you graduated, I’ve only grown prouder seeing all of the good you have done for the company.”
I pulled him into a big hug and tried to stop the tears that were forcing their way out of my eyes. This was all I’ve ever wanted. To help him. To be a good partner to him. To fulfill my promise to my mom. And this necklace was physical proof that I’d done it.
Dad pulled away and wiped at the tears sliding down my cheeks. “Your mother would’ve been so proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”
“Thank you,” was all I managed to say.
“Now, go get ready for this party. I expect you to look as beautiful as that necklace.”
“I will.” I wiped at my face again.
“Hope you’ve got some miracle cream in your room; you’re looking a little scary right now.”
I slapped his arm, and he gasped at me.
“Don’t you even start,” I said, chastising him in my best imitation of my mother. He used to tease her like that all the time. “Just you wait until you see me later.” I got up and began to walk out of his room.
“Layla,” he started just as I got to the door. “I hope you don’t mind. I had the maids send over your mother’s dress from the last anniversary party. I thought you might like to wear it.”
“I would, you’re right.”
“Then I know you’ll look perfect. See you soon.”
I was about to walk out of the door when my mind clicked back on. He was wearing the checkered cummerbund.
“Dad, take that off,” I snapped. “You almost distracted me enough that I didn’t notice.”
“I guess next time I’ll have to buy a bigger diamond.”
“The bigger the better,” I shouted, then went back to my room to get ready.
I had just finished my makeup when my phone rang. It was Drake.
“Did you propose to Brooklynne yet?” It was how I always answered the phone when he called.
The two of them were so much in love it reminded me of my parents. It was only a matter of time until he made it official. But honestly, I think I was more antsy than she was. I just loved love. Well, I loved other people’s love. I didn’t have time for a boyfriend. I spent so much of my life helping Dad that I had a hard time making relationships work. As of about three years ago, I’d given up for a bit and decided just to have fun. I wouldn’t deprive myself of a good time, like Brooklynne, just because I wasn’t going to settle down. I dated for fun not for longevity.
“Miss Lenhardt, the team is here. Where should we meet you for the briefing?”
“Drake, you’ve got to stop calling me Miss Lenhardt. You’re bangin’ my best friend.”
“You’re a client right now. I’m being professional.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, Detective Romeo, I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs by the front door. I’ll be down in five minutes.” I put the phone down and quickly took out my rollers. I gave my hair a good fluff, then pulled the tie on my satin robe tighter. I had taken my pajamas off so I wouldn’t mess up my hair when I tried to pull the top off.
As I dashed to the stairs, I looked at my phone again. Drake and the guys were early. Like half an hour early. I should’ve had a bit more time to get ready before we met. I’d originally debated throwing on some sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie but decided not to. They’d live if they saw me in a robe. Besides, I had a bra and undies on underneath, and it went down to my mid-thigh. I wouldn’t be flashing anyone on accident, and definitely not on purpose. Well, tonight anyway.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I looked down and saw the crew. Drake was standing at attention, arms folded in front of him, legs shoulder width apart. His tux fit him and those muscles Brooklynne gushed over perfectly. Danforth, the older guy next to him with white hair and a navy tux; he was even thicker than Drake and at least five inches taller. The last one, Junior, I think, stood next to them with sunglasses on and a black tux with a black shirt underneath. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but the overall look worked for him.
And then there was the last one, Brock. He was wearing black tactical pants and a black T-shirt. He even had the bottoms of his pants tucked into his combat boots.
I was gonna kill Drake for this. I rushed down the stairs and straight up to him. I pressed a finger into his chest and began yelling at him in a whisper so the other vendors wouldn’t hear me.
“Drake, this better be a joke. What is that one wearing? I said black tie not GI Joe soldier man.”
Drake looked over at the underdressed miscreant, glared in his direction, and then turned back to me. “He was told about the dress code. Unfortunately, we met here and there wasn’t much I could do. I don’t carry an extra suit in the car.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” the miscreant said. “I’m security, not a guest.”
“You, shush,” I snapped, rounding on him before turning back to Drake.
I’d seen him several times before. He was a regular part of Drake’s crew, and I knew he had a bit of a thing for me. He flirted and suggested things on occasion in a joking manner. But I’d never taken him up on it. It wasn’t ever the time, and tonight wasn’t either. I had thought about it once or twice though because, damn, if he didn’t fill out that unbelievably inappropriate T-shirt.
“He’s not going to blend in looking like that. I don’t want the guests to know I have security here. I want them at ease, not worried there will be an attack or something.”
I didn’t usually have to hire a new security team at Dad’s parties. Our regular team typically handled it, but they were usually at the door and were very strict about the list. They didn’t go inside mingling with the guests. After the disaster that was Frederick’s engagement party, I didn’t want to risk it this time. The governor wouldn’t be here, but a lot of high-ranking political officials would be. I needed to ensure their safety. So, I’d hired a team, insisting Drake lead them up, if for no other reason than to ensure he’d be in town for a few days with Brooklynne. I’m a good friend like that. Okay, fine, his was also the best crew that Uncle Sawyer employed at Livingston Protection Services, and I needed the best.
But I wanted them to blend in with the guests. And the miscreant looked every bit the security guard he was. I couldn’t have any guests concerned about their safety. Not tonight.
“He has to leave,” I said.
“Now wait a minute,” the miscreant cut in. “I’m getting kicked out because I don’t own a suit? These are my best pants. The shirt doesn’t have a hole in it, and I shined my boots. This is literally the best I have ever looked.”
“How sad for you.” I spared him a side glance.
Look good he did, though. His tousled hair was boyishly curly but tamed with some hair products, so it looked just messy enough to be attractive. I wanted to run my fingers through it. Was it as soft as it seemed? And that stupid T-shirt? It was too tight. Way tighter than any man should be wearing. Did he not know how to pick a size? But, damn, if it didn’t show every single muscle in that man’s arms and chest. Even hinted a little at his abs. A part of me wanted to rip the shirt off and have him serving canapes topless. But this was a classy party, and he needed to wear clothes. Just not those.
“Look, Miss Lenhardt, I’ll blend in. You won’t even notice me.”
Fat chance. I’d notice him anywhere. Who wouldn’t? Eyes as blue as those didn’t exactly exist every day. Fuckin’ A. Not the time, Layla, I reminded myself.
“Drake, I can’t have him walking around looking like that. Can’t you, like, magically make a suit or tux appear?”
Drake raised his eyebrows at me and arched an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how magic works?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Drake pulled me to the side, and when the miscreant tried to follow, Drake gave him a harsh look and Brock walked back over to the other perfectly dressed guys.
“Magic cannot make things out of thin air. It can only manipulate what already exists. I don’t have a bolt of fabric and thread and whatever else goes into a tux. I don’t know, fuckin’ zippers or something.”
“He can’t work the party dressed like that.”
“It’s my fault. I should’ve checked with all the guys to make sure they had the appropriate clothes. Don’t blame Brock.”
“Sounds like a you issue and not a me issue.”
“Also, Junior is still blind. He can use those glasses to see some, but he can’t see anything further away than twenty-five feet. With him limited, I can’t afford to lose another guy.”
“But, Drake…”
“Look, the guy needs the overtime.”
“Yeah, he can use the money to buy a suit.”
“No, Layla, he’s got family he needs to support. I can’t send him home. Isn’t there something you can do? Maybe an exception you can make? For me? I am the guy who will be proposing to Brooklynne.”
“That is low,” I said with a scowl. “I will not be manipulated like that.”
I turned and looked at Brock. Family to support. What did that mean? Like a little wife at home with twins and a dog? Maybe a picket fence and a yard. He didn’t exactly seem like the type. He was probably my age, maybe a year older. I’d be surprised to hear if that was the life he was living. And, true, maybe the teensiest bit disappointed.
“When have I ever asked you for anything?” Drake’s voice was soft.
He was right. Since the time that I met him four years ago at Uncle Sawyer’s, Drake had never asked me for a thing. But he was always there for me. Like when he’d shown up within a moment’s notice to help Brooklynne find her sister a few months ago. True, that had worked out to his favor, but he hadn’t complained or fought me on anything.
“If I do this, and I’m saying if, Drake, you will owe me.”
“You’re the best, Miss Len … Layla.”
I glared over at him. “I said if,” I reminded him.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you said even that.”
I turned back to the miscreant and beckoned him to me with a wave. “Let’s go, trouble,” I murmured and started up the stairs.
Brock
I’d promised myself long ago I would never let the rich look down on me. I was proud of the man I’d grown into, and I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel less like the badass I’d turned into because I didn’t have hundreds of millions rolling around in my bank account. And then I saw the size of Layla’s house. The size of Layla’s foyer. The size of the diamond sitting just above Layla’s perky breasts, and I felt so intimidated. This wasn’t money like I’d seen it before. This was money from movies that were made up by a set designer. Shit, the house looked fancier than the governor’s mansion. When you took away the moat, it was almost the same size. And this house probably wasn’t built on stolen government funds. Maybe. I didn’t have any idea how someone managed to accrue wealth like this without getting involved in something shady.
But then Layla had looked at me, taken in my shirt and pants as if I was nothing but a bug to scrape off the bottom of her fancy shoe, and I’d felt low. Here was the girl of my dreams, the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, and she was so untouchable. Not just because her fuckin’ perfect nose was stuck up in the air, but because she had a life with wealth my imagination couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Still, I needed this job. Stuck up as she was, the overtime would give me the last bit my little sister Bethany needed for her tuition money. I couldn’t believe she was about to graduate from college. And with her pre-med degree. Only a few more years of med school, and she’d get her dream. Now, I just had to make damn sure she got there. The tuition was due Monday. I could probably borrow it from the firm against my next salary, but that’d put me behind on rent and, so far since moving into my new place five years ago, I’ve never missed a rent payment. And it’d stay like that. It was my own dream, supporting myself and my sister.
So, if Layla told me to stand on my head and hold a tray of champagne flutes on my feet, I’d do it. Though, I had no idea why we were going upstairs. Was she going to have me be a lookout up here, out of sight? Honestly, that didn’t sound terrible. Drake would even be jealous that I got to be out of the way, and he’d have small talk with the rich.
But she just kept walking. We went down a long hallway and paused at the very last door. She knocked and called out, “Dad, are you in there?” When there was no response, she opened the door, stepped in, and called for her dad again. Still, no response.
I followed her in the room and swore when I looked around. My entire apartment could fit in this man’s bedroom. And that didn’t even count all the rooms just off the main chamber. There were gold candle holders on the wall, a bed that could easily fit … actually, no, I didn’t want to think about how many people Layla’s dad could fit in his bed. That wasn’t an image I needed. But it was a lot. Everything about this room screamed money and decadence, and I was tempted to pick up one of the crystal paperweights on his nightstand to see what it weighed. But I behaved myself and kept my hands in my pockets. My eyes, though, they kept going back to her ass.
Layla turned off into one of the rooms and I followed her, wondering if she was going to lock me away in a closet or something during the party. Again, I still saw that as a winning assignment. But, damn, that closet. It wasn’t just a door with a rod on the wall and a single shelf over it, like in my apartment. There were multiple racks like in a store with more clothes than I really felt one individual needed to own. Seriously, could he wear everything in here once and never repeat an outfit for an entire year? Two years? And that didn’t even include the tie collection, the ridiculous number of cummerbunds, or the entire wall of shiny dress shoes that all looked as though they’d pinch.
But my attention soon drifted from the closet to the woman in it. When I’d seen her for the first time at the firm, it was just before the Brooklynne drama. She’d been visiting her uncle, and my jaw had nearly hit the floor. I couldn’t believe someone that beautiful existed. She remembered everyone’s name, had brought donuts for the secretaries, lunch for the cleaning staff, and had even cleaned up a scrape her high heel had made on the floor before she apologized profusely. People who looked like her and were as kind as her, I didn’t know they’d existed. Especially since some of the clientele we worked with were nowhere near as kind and accepting. So, I’d been a little shocked that she’d been so outraged by my outfit. Still, if that was what it took to get her upstairs right now, maybe it was worth it.
This was the first time Layla and I had ever been alone. And I couldn’t help but watch her as she walked over to one of the racks. She was wearing a thin, silky robe that did nothing to hide the outline of her bra and underwear. I could see she was wearing a thong with some kind of design over it, and a strapless bra pushed up her breasts. They were small but, damn, they’d fit perfectly in my hand. And when she got on her tiptoes to pull a pair of pants down from the rack and raised her arms, the hem of her robe slid up and gave me a glance at her upper thighs and the slightest curve of her tight ass.
I’d wear whatever she wanted to. At this point, with my dick hard in my pants, with thoughts of ripping that robe off and throwing it to the side, I’d do whatever she wanted to. The money long gone from my mind. I just wanted her.
But she wasn’t looking at me. Not really. It was like she saw a mannequin in a store that she was trying to dress. And from the size of this closet, it could take her a long-ass time to find something. This closet held more suits than most department stores had for sale. Layla seemed to be flicking through them all, until she finally stopped. She pulled down a pair of pants and held them up against me, then put them back on the rack. She did this a few times, each time, gently pushing her knuckles against my pelvis as she held the pants up to me. I grew even harder with each touch. But she still wasn’t looking at me. Just at the damn pants. I needed to do something to get her to notice me before we were back in mixed company, and I was just the loser who couldn’t afford a suit.
She finally found a pair of pants she liked. Dark gray. I touched the pants and was surprised at how soft and smooth the fabric was.
Layla then took the matching blazer off the rack, handed me a white button-down shirt, and then a burgundy tie. “Get dressed,” she ordered but she hadn’t turned around to give me any kind of privacy. “I need to see if this fits.”
“Usually, I buy a girl dinner before I strip down for her,” I teased.
“Usually, the guys who buy me dinner have their own suit.”
“That’s just the paint job. Don’t you care what’s under the hood?”
She looked me up and then checked the delicate watch on her wrist. A smile appeared across her face. “Depends what you’ve got.” She placed her hands on her hips and her gaze danced down my body and settled on my crotch.
“I could take you for a ride. Trust me, it’d be nothing like what all those boring pencil pushing, private trust-fund boys tried.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” Her eyes came back to mine, and they had a hint of mischief lit by a fire I wanted to stoke. I had to have her. And right now, it might be my only chance.
“You’ve never been more wrong.”
“Prove it.”
“Fair warning, I like it a bit rough.”
“I can take it.”
“Good.”
I grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her into a deep kiss. I couldn’t believe my luck. Here I was, kissing Layla, and not only was it the single best kiss of my life, but she was into it. She was kissing me back. As I moved my hand down her body, to rest on one of her breasts, I could feel her nipple harden, and when I rubbed it, she moaned into me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down to her level. Layla wasn’t short for a girl, maybe five nine or ten, but I was six three, six five in my boots. I was towering over her.
I let go of her breast and grabbed her by the ass. I picked her up and slammed her up against the wall. She moaned louder and wrapped her legs around me. I pressed her harder against the wall as I kissed her again. With one hand holding her ass, I brought the other up her body. I pulled away from the kiss and wrapped a hand around her neck. I squeezed slightly, only tightening my grip as I watched the arousal grow in her eyes.
“Fuck,” she said, her voice growing louder as her breath became ragged.
“Tell me, how you like it. A little rough? Taking orders? Tell me, do you want me to dominate you?”
“Yes,” she said, almost purring.
“Tell me if it ever gets too much.”
“It won’t.”
“Stay quiet,” I ordered.
She nodded and bit down on her bottom lip. I kissed her again hard, sucking her lip from her teeth so I could crash my mouth against her full pout. I moved the hand on her ass forward and found the edge of her underwear. I slid it aside and pushed a finger inside her already wet opening.
Layla gasped as I moved my finger quickly inside her, and I squeezed her neck just a bit tighter.
“I said quiet. Never know when someone might come back in this room. Can’t have Daddy finding me knuckle deep in his little princess.” And I kissed her again, roughly taking every inch of her self-control with me.
Her breath hitched and she tried to break the kiss, but I held onto her and added another finger. I quickened my pace inside her, my hand still on her throat. I could feel her tightening around my fingers, so I added the third. And on my second pump, she orgasmed around me. But I wasn’t done with her. I placed her back on her feet and grabbed her robe.
I yanked the belt off and pulled it from her shoulders. “Let me look at you. All of you.”
A smile broke out on her face, and she didn’t rush to cover herself. Instead, she turned around, pushed her ass out, and slid her thong down her legs. Then, she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She turned back around and flashed me the most wicked grin. This girl knew. She knew she looked good and, shit, if I wasn’t prepared for it.
“Like what you see?”
Fuck yeah, I did. “It’ll work,” was all I managed to get out without completely losing all my resolve.
She was perfect. Every inch of her was as if the stars had formed her to every one of my fantasies. Or maybe they formed my fantasies to match her. Either way, I had to have her. I needed more of her.
“Your turn.” She nodded at my belt buckle.
But she wasn’t in charge here. Hell, that little princess might run the world the rest of the time, and maybe she had tons of minions who would bend over backward to do her bidding, but not here. Not when I was finally getting a crack at the woman I’d been thinking about for months.
I picked up the tie from the robe and draped it over her shoulders. Then I pulled her to me, tight. “One more word from you.” I dragged the end of the rope across her pretty face. “And this will end up in your mouth, blocking every last word, moan, yell, and utterance from you. Is that understood? Nod if you get it.”
She nodded.
“This is my world, princess. I’m letting you visit, but I make the orders. Is that clear? Nod again.”
She did. I tied the ribbon into a little bow under her neck. “Leave that there so it’s handy in case I need it.”
I reached over my shoulder and pulled my shirt off. I undid the belt buckle of my pants, then the button, and finally the zipper. I dropped my pants to the ground, and my boxers followed after. I stood in front of Layla, hands on my hips, fully erect.
She stared at me, her eyes widening for a moment before finally coming back to meet my stare.
While I could stand and stare at her naked and aroused at the sight of me for ages, I actually couldn’t stand there any longer. It was almost painful how badly I wanted to be inside her right now. So, I took her over to the glass counter, with all of her dad’s jewelry and watches and tie clips and whatever else rich men spent money on and placed her ass on it. I spread her legs wide and slid inside her.
I groaned loudly as I seated myself as deep as I could go. And then she leaned back, changing the angle, and I went deeper.
“Fuck.” My body threatened to betray me after one pump.
I pulled myself out, trying to prolong it all just for a moment before I quickly pushed back in again. I found a fast rhythm as I slammed into her with a force that was shaking everything free of their perfect homes in that case. But I didn’t care. I was making a point. I was showing Layla just what she missed when she overlooked the guy in a T-shirt. I growled, fighting against myself. I wanted to finish so badly. I wanted to feel that arousal, to claim Layla like I’ve been dreaming about. To leave her wanting more of me. To know that I was going to be permanently in her mind when she went to bed with Harvey Trustfund as he tried to please her but, in the end, couldn’t hold a candle to the pleasure I was forcing out of her body.
And though she was quiet, I could see it in the way her eyes rolled back. I could feel it as her nails dug into my back while she tried to hold onto me. And when I grabbed her by that ribbon and pulled her face to mine, her lips told me everything with that kiss. She wanted me more than she’d ever wanted even air. And with that desire, I felt her begin to shake in my arms, a second round of pleasure washing over her. And when she tightened around me, I couldn’t hold myself back anymore.
With one last pump, I claimed her for the night.
I slid out of her and grabbed a towel from one of the shelves near the door. I wiped myself off and then handed a fresh one to her.
“I can’t use that. My dad’s initials are embroidered on it,” she complained.
I looked around the room and spotted a box of tissues in the corner. I grabbed it and handed it to her.
“Better? Or do you have personalized tissues as well?” I asked.
“It’ll work.”
I grinned, amused that she had repeated what I’d said to her earlier.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
“I was just shaft deep inside you, but watching you wipe me off your inner thigh is too much?”
“Turn around,” she said more forcefully, hand on her hip and an expectant look on her face.
I wasn’t ready to be ordered around by her just yet. Not after what had just happened. So, I grabbed one of her hands and twisted it behind her back. Not too hard. I didn’t actually want to hurt her. Just hold her tightly to me so she could do nothing but listen. I spun her around up against my body and held her there.
I dropped my head to her ear and lowered my voice. “Did I say we were done? I don’t actually recall giving you permission to speak. And not only did you speak, you tried to give me an order. No, no, princess. There will be consequences for your actions.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Tsk tsk. I still didn’t give you permission to speak. Now, how should I punish you? Wearing the gag all night, while it does have its benefits, I wouldn’t want another man getting aroused at the sight of you so submissive. But I still need to remind you that you will not disobey me again. Decisions…”
I kissed her neck and felt the ribbon. I let go of her arm and untied it from her neck. Then I knelt down in front of her and tied the ribbon high up on her thigh, securing the knot with a little magic and shrinking it in size a bit. She’d never be able to undo it without me, and it wouldn’t accidentally fall down during the night. It was perfect. And it’d ensure I had to see her again to get it off.
“The ribbon stays on. Nothing but my magic will get it off. If you behave, just maybe, I’ll take it off you tonight. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“That’s my princess. Now, I want you to stand there and watch me get dressed. You need to see just how good I’m about to look in this suit.”
End of Excerpt
