Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Myles
I tossed my suit coat on the bed to keep from wrinkling the damn thing by tugging on the sleeves.
I couldn’t run my hands through my hair, or I’d mess it up.
I couldn’t risk getting sloppy. Mainline needed professional, like Wynn had said.
I didn’t need to be the kid who fucked up yet another opportunity because of his shitty personality and even worse history.
I propped my hands on my hips. Anger undulated under my skin. Anxiety. Fuck, despair. I didn’t want to do this. Not on the tail of what Gianna had said when I’d told her I couldn’t help.
The pocket door opened. Wynn stepped through and closed it again.
I was risking everything by being in a poor mindset. I couldn’t add the tension of being closed in a tiny room that had a bed with Wynn. “I’m fine, Ms. Kerrigan. Leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said softly. She licked her bottom lip and lust punched me nice and low.
“You need to fucking go.”
“And you need to fucking relax.”
Fury—at my situation, at my pitch, at my worry, at Gianna—pushed against my temples until my vision narrowed.
I wasn’t a violent guy, and I’d never lay a hand on Wynn that wasn’t caressing her soft skin, but if she stayed, my blood pressure would skyrocket, and I’d stroke out. I was sure of that right now.
Then she reached for my belt buckle.
My lungs stalled. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as her small hands worked the clasp open and slid my zipper down. If I didn’t take a breath soon, I’d black out. “Wynn?”
“I’m helping you relax.”
That purr kept me immobile. I had to be mistaken. I’d already had a brain hemorrhage and had passed out. This was my afterlife gift. Here, have an erotic trek to the white light.
She tugged my underwear down and freed my rapidly swelling cock.
Nope. This was real.
“Wynn,” I groaned. Now my sight was blurry for a completely different reason. Her touch was warm and firm and more than I’d had for months.
“Just try to be quiet so I can look the crew in the eye when we leave.” She dropped to her knees. “Oh my god, you’re so much bigger than I thought.”
A tremor racked my body. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh, Myles—I’ve been dreaming about doing so many naughty things to you. Shut up, and let me suck you off.”
Air whooshed out of my mouth. When she licked along the underside of my erection and let out an appreciative sound, I was done. I was in her hands in so many ways.
Then she put those full lips around the tip, and I tipped my head back. “Fuuuck.”
She answered with a moan.
I had to watch. Pure awe crowded into me, barely able to fit around the lust. She looked like an office siren, on her knees, pleasuring her boss. Which was exactly what she was.
I couldn’t hold back the buck of my hips. She gazed up at me, her cheeks hollowed, her breasts rising and falling as she took in air through her nose.
The thought of how forbidden this should be went out the window. “You’re so fucking beautiful like that, taking me deep.”
She responded by sucking in more of me.
My groan was ragged. “Can you take it all, baby?” Her hum reverberated right down to my balls. “So fucking good. Do you know how often I pictured you just like this? Then I’d bend you over the desk—”
She did something with her tongue that should be a sin. I tipped my head back again. My balls were tightening and energy raced down my spine to coil at the base of my cock.
My timing today would be the worst ever. I’d never come so fast. “I’m not going to last much—”
She swirled her tongue along my length as she pulled back, then swallowed me deeper.
“Fuck, Wynn.” I had to clench my teeth before a shout echoed through the plane. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The energy turned into a lightning bolt, circling around my balls and shooting through my shaft. I tried to pull away, but she was strong and unrelenting. I came, hard and long, and she sucked, prolonging the climax until I had to prop a hand on the nearest wall.
She took everything, every last drop. When I sagged, she released me. My cock bobbed in front of her face, and she gazed up with a smug expression. “Are you relaxed now, Mr. Foster?”
That “Mr. Foster” splashed a few drops of cold water on my face, but it wasn’t enough reality to make me regret anything. “When my cum is still on your tongue, you can call me Myles.”
Her swollen lips curved up, and she rose.
I put a hand on her elbow and helped her stand.
Then I gripped her chin and kissed her. I couldn’t afford to get lost in the kiss like the other night.
She didn’t need body fluids on her clothing, and I couldn’t afford the new erection that would sprout up within seconds of having my mouth on her, but I wanted to show her how much her blow job meant.
She could’ve let me be an incorrigible asshole and ruin my goals, but she’d taken care of me.
I hadn’t had anyone take care of me in a long time. I pulled back. “Thank you.”
“Just nail that presentation so I can have my regular uptight boss back.”
Wynter
Myles’s pitch was a work of art. He’d done as I suggested and kept the details vague, generalizing the concepts and repercussions of growing up like he had and the effect foster care could have on kids while only touching on the feelings that were all his own.
The way he’d shared those emotions, of being a lost and confused kid surrounded by strangers, it was an experience I knew intimately.
The constant doubts about being enough, about proving oneself.
He’d ended with how he’d turned those insecurities toward being productive, toward creating an environment where his employees had a place at Foster House.
He paid it forward with his actions and didn’t care who knew. That wasn’t who he was.
I’d dabbed at tears throughout his speech, struggling to keep from bawling. The others in the room, the marketing execs and the vice president and the distribution team, had been as affected as me, discreetly wiping their eyes.
And through all that, Myles had managed to sprinkle in the data we’d toiled over, collecting and rearranging the information until it satisfied Mainline’s requirements for suppliers.
If this was what he could do when he got a blow job, he’d be unstoppable with a girlfriend. I bit back a smile, but he must’ve noticed and caught my eye. I lifted a brow and let my pride shine through.
No matter what Mainline’s answer was, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Their decision would not be about him or what he did or didn’t do to pay it forward.
Even the friend who’d specifically outed himself as Wes’s buddy when we arrived had sniffled a time or two.
“So that’s it.” Myles spread his hands. “Foster House is my legacy. It’s also my life, and just like I didn’t care to be identified in town as ‘that foster kid,’ I don’t want the people and stories behind Foster House to be highlighted for their trauma or their struggles.
The quality of the product speaks to the strengths, the compassion, and the dedication of those involved, including me.
” He folded his hands. “I’d be happy to answer any questions you have. ”
The undercurrent of his tone said he’d only be okay answering questions about whiskey.
I took notes as he was peppered with questions about production and his plans for expansion. Everyone seemed content to stay away from his past, and it wasn’t long before we were marching out of the headquarters building and into the warm Omaha air.
A car was on the way for us, lapping around the parking lot. We waited. No one had walked us out. One of the things I loved about the spirits world of the Midwest was the expected informality.
“You did it,” I squealed under my breath. “That was amazing.” I hugged my tote to my chest. “You feel good about that, right? I mean you should.”
When his ice-blue stare connected with mine, the world narrowed to just the two of us.
“If you think I’ve forgotten what you did for me in that plane, Ms. Kerrigan, you’re sorely mistaken.”
My heart sank. He was back to being glacial Myles. “I was out of line. I didn’t know what else to do and…” I licked my dry lips.
His gaze followed my tongue like a predator planning his attack. “You said you’ve been wanting to. Was that true?”
The edge of his voice sent shivers coursing down my spine. “Yes. I thought you could tell by that kiss.”
“I could tell a lot of things.” The car parked in front of us, and he half turned, lowering his head to speak closer to my ear. “I’ve had my own fantasies. Tell me, Ms. Kerrigan, would you like to know what they are?”
So badly. A tremble went through my body from head to toe. “That depends, Mr. Foster. If your head’s between my legs, are you going to call me Wynn?”