Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LONDON
W hat the actual fuck is happening?
Bursting in the restroom, I’m surprised and thankful to find it empty as I rest against the closed door.
What is he doing?
Snark, I can handle.
Absurd flirting, no problem.
Sincerity and sweetness… I think the fuck not.
What kind of game is he playing?
Making my way to the sink, I stare in the mirror, almost gasping at my appearance. The heat in my cheeks has my skin glowing, and I look happy and healthy. Vibrant. My eyes are indeed sparkling, and I blame the man and not the libation.
Some switch has been flipped and everything has changed. Xander is still playful, always teasing, but beneath it, or even between each quip, is warmth and earnestness. Attentiveness with a hint of vulnerability that’s drawing me in, chipping away at the walls I’ve erected.
Lively chatter moving closer draws my attention and needing a few more minutes to myself, I move to the furthest stall for privacy while I gather my thoughts. The clatter of heels and laughter barges into my tumbling thoughts as I finish up, the other ladies have clearly also enjoyed some booze.
Once the water turns off, a familiar name snaps me back to attention.
“Did you see Xander Grant is here with his new flavor of the week?”
Flavor of the week? Rude.
“Yeah, and she’s gorgeous. I kinda hate her on principle.”
I preen. Look at that, maybe they aren’t as nasty as I originally thought.
“Of course, she is. He has a reputation to uphold, right?”
“I guess I’ll just have to wait my turn. I’m sure this will be just like the others, but I’m playing the long game.”
Ugh. The thought of being lumped in as just another notch on his bedpost doesn’t sit well with me. Never mind, they are vile.
“I don’t know. I heard he was so cocky.”
“Yes, I heard it was huge. That’s what I want, girl! I just gotta know if I can take it.”
“You should finally shoot your shot before he’s pulled off the shelves like Eli and Ty.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I really wanted to ask them if they would be interested in a poly situation, but I missed my chance, apparently.”
They laugh as I silently fume, my fists balling of their own accord. I don’t share and he’s mine until I’m done with him. They may be waiting a while.
“Haha! You’re stupid. Come on, let’s walk by his table. Maybe we can at least say hi.”
Once they finally exit, I can breathe a little easier as I make my way back to the sink to wash my hands. Taking in my wide eyes in the mirror, I try to digest what I heard.
Xander is hot, so naturally, other women notice, but it was the “flavor of the week” comment that’s giving me pause. But why do I care? I want him for sex, so I can’t be mad that he’s experienced because I get to enjoy that experience. He’s made me come more times in the last week than I have fingers and toes. I hate the thrum of heat that flows through me at the thought, but I can’t fault him for how he chose to live his life. Right? Right.
That was before me, but I can’t deny I get the ick thinking about him with other women. What about after me? Would he look at her the way he looks at me? Would he remember her favorite food and order it when she’s sad? Ugh, I don’t need this shit.
Sighing, I step out into the hall and meander back to our table that’s now covered in the appetizers we ordered. As I approach, Xander hurriedly stands and sets his phone down, and I don’t give him a second before I drop my next question.
“Are you a fuckboy?”
His smile falters as he stares at me before he gestures to my seat. “I’ll answer your question, but please sit down first.”
Rolling my eyes, I slide into the booth, and he does the same, but this time I’m sure to leave several inches between us. Crossing my arms, I eye him again. “So, are you?”
His head cocks to the side as he considers his words before answering. “People think I am, or at least that’s what they tell me.”
“But what do you want to be? You don’t seem like the type to let other people define you. But you are the type who likes to hook up because it’s easy and you’ve probably never had to work for anything.”
He scoffs. “What even is a fuckboy?”
Nodding, I say, “Exactly what a fuckboy would say.”
“Hold up, seriously. I want to make sure I answer your question as honestly as possible.”
He picks up his phone from the table and starts typing away.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning over to catch a peek at his screen.
“I’m looking up the definition on Urban Dictionary.”
I watch in fascination as his eyes widen, before he grunts then nods his head and he finally meets my eyes.
“Care to share with the class?”
“Yes. I just had to make sure I wasn’t one first. You freaked me out.” Sliding closer, he tilts his phone screen to me so I can see the many definitions and examples of a fuckboy.
“First off, right here, it says he lies to get what he wants from a girl.” Pointing to his chest, his eyes are hard as they hold mine. “I never lie to women. If anything, they lie to me. I’m upfront about what I want and what I’m offering. Maybe I’ve been messing around with fuckgirls?” He squints his eyes as he considers. “I’m looking that shit up next.”
“What else does it say?” I push.
“Well, this part is true.”
My heart immediately plummets because of fucking course.
“It says, ‘he’s usually very beautiful.’” His hand moves up and down, gesturing to his face and body as if to say, look at me.
“Hmm, I thought you said you didn’t lie?”
“Damn, babycakes. You’re not pulling any punches. Alrighty. NEXT!” He counts off on his fingers. “I don’t play with women’s feelings, I’d never ghost anyone, and I’m not a fucking cheater.”
“Fine.” I shrug.
“Fine?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“That’s it? You believe me?”
“Yes, well, I still want to learn more about fuckgirls,” I say, picking up my wine.
“Oh, this should be good. I have a feeling you aren’t going to like what you hear.”
“Hey!” I nudge his shoulder as I practically splutter my wine. “I don’t think so, stud.”
“I appreciate your confidence, even when you’re wrong.” Reading from his phone, he just laughs, but doesn’t let me see, giving me the cold shoulder.
“Read it aloud.”
“You sure? Because, right now, in this moment, you’re still right. You’re still my good girl. Once I read this, you’re just my favorite fuckgirl.”
Ignoring his jibes, I wave my hand in a bring it on gesture. “Yeah, right. Come on.”
“Okay, let’s see. A fuckgirl… plays games, strings guys along, wears badass shoes, and doesn’t want a boyfriend.”
Two breaths. That’s how long we both last before we burst out laughing.
“Fuck, it’s the shoes! I’m a total fuckgirl!”
“Babycakes, it’s more than your sexy ass shoes, but I’ll let you have that one, but fortunately for us, it looks like my kink is fuckgirl fuckery.”
Lunch?
Glancing down at my phone, I check the text from Xander again. It’s been almost a week since our impromptu night out, and I don’t know when or where he got his hands on my phone, but he’s saved himself as Omega AF . Either way, these sorts of texts are frequent enough, along with the good mornings, how’s your day going, miss you, goodnight, baby or random memes he finds funny. I don’t know how we got here, but I think I like it. However, frenemies with benefits doesn’t include lunch, does it?
Lunch is code for fucking , pops up on my screen a second later.
Laughing, I begin gathering my things. I have nothing else going on. Ty and Sasha are both out and everyone else has a job, except for me, though I’m confident I’ll hear something back this week.
Sure. I love lunch.
You’re perfect. I’m looking forward to seeing your beautiful face. See you at my office for a nooner.
My heart gives a little squeeze. Xander is so free with his affection and praise. It’s taking some getting used to, I thought he was full of crap, but I’m learning he means what he says.
Thankfully, I’ve just showered but I’m dressed comfortably. Frowning at myself in the mirror, these leggings won’t do. I guess I could also put on some sexy matching lingerie versus these simple black bikini panties and sports bra. No, wait. Should I do no panties? I shake my head. No, he likes to collect them like trophies and who am I to deny the man his simple pleasures.
Changing into my favorite black pleated skirt, fitted black sheer shirt, I throw on my new black stiletto pumps with a metallic gold heel, give my ankles a spray of perfume because I know they’ll be on his shoulder soon, and I’m ready to go.
Arriving at the address Xander sent me, he’s right. We’d practically be neighbors if I get the job I really want. Hmm, what did he call this? A nooner. I could see more of these in my future.
Xander mentioned his offices take up the entire top floor, so I jump on the elevator as anticipation flows along my skin. I haven’t seen Xander since our impromptu night of twenty questions. After which, he was such a gentleman, escorting me home and leaving me all horny with just a kiss. Had I known that would lead me here to midday orgasms, I would have suggested this lunch so much sooner.
Stepping off the elevator, I’m met with views of Chicago and a sleek white marble lobby. Grant AF Banking in a gorgeous gold script adorns the wall behind the large gold and marble desk. Two blonde receptionists sit behind it, smiling at me like Cheshire cats.
AF? This man is insane.
“Hello, I’m here to see—”
“Yes, Xander is expecting you, Ms. Cameron,” the man to my right interrupts.
The smiling woman next to him hits a button, and a glass door opens to my left. “His assistant is right inside. She’ll take you to his office.”
Surprised, I nod and stride through the door, my heels clicking on the gleaming marble floor.
“Ms. Cameron, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Ophelia, Mr. Grant’s executive assistant.”
Ophelia is delightful. With her bright smile and gray hair pulled back into a loose bun, she reminds me of Mrs. Claus.
I shake her offered hand. “Finally?”
She gives a little laugh as she gestures for me to follow her through the labyrinth of desks in the wide-open space. This place is all glass, marble, and gold accents. Meeting rooms line one wall, the glass enclosure wall allows for no privacy. Same for the slightly smaller offices. The beautiful views are unobstructed in this space.
“Oh, yes. Mr. Grant hasn’t stopped talking about you for months.” She leans in, covering her mouth as she whispers conspiratorially. “To be honest, I was getting concerned that he was fibbing, especially after he had me pick up those clothes for you. I honestly thought he was just trying to get me off his back. It’s about time that boy settled down.”
I laugh and continue to follow her. “And what changed your mind? About me being a real girl.”
“He did. I’ve never seen him, so… what’s the word?” Her eyes glitter as we come to a stop outside a door. “Buoyant. You know, and like I said, he talks about you all the time. But the way he spoke about you changed, hmm, yes, it changed back in March.”
“March?” I choke out.
She nods, pushing open the heavy glass door.
“Yes, dear. Right around the time you arrived here, from what he shared. There were a few days when he was quieter than usual, which if you know him is out of the ordinary and concerning.” She offers me a soft smile. “I don’t want to know what changed, I won’t let him tell me, but he’s been on cloud nine ever since. Now, you take a seat here in his office. He’s just finishing up a meeting and will be with you shortly. Would you like any refreshments while you wait?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“Pfft. None of that ma’am stuff. Please, call me Ophelia.”
“Ophelia. Of course. Thank you.”
Stepping into Xander’s office, I barely register the bright space or the sweeping city views. My attention is immediately drawn to the imposing mahogany desk and the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, pulling me closer. Ignoring the buttery-smooth leather couch and armchairs in the sitting area, my thoughts race as I sink into his surprisingly comfortable office chair.
Something about the way Ophelia spoke of Xander tugged on something deep in my stomach. She expressed nothing but love and concern for him, which tells me a lot about their relationship. I don’t know. It all seems kind of sweet. Who would have thought Xander would have an elderly grandmother type as an assistant?
Footsteps pull me from my thoughts and when I look up, Xander’s stalking toward me. Those dark eyes smoldering as they meet mine and my pulse quickens at the thought of him taking everything he wants from me.
“London Cameron,” he calls as he stops in front of his desk. Sexy as hell with his hand in his pocket and his dark hair tousled.
Leaning back in his chair, I prop my feet up on his desk, crossing them at the ankle. “Grant AF Banking?” I snort.
He shrugs, intently watching me. “Those are my initials. My middle name is Franklin,” he says, but he sounds distracted.
My face heats as Xander's eyes roam over me. No matter how many times he’s seen me, his eyes always caress my face as if seeing me for the first time and I’m a little obsessed with his obvious perusal.
“Fuck. Your beauty is a gift and a curse. This image of you at my desk will be what I’ll see every time I walk into this office. Work and tedious phone calls will be fun with a boner. Thank you for that,” he says, walking around the desk.
I try but can’t fight the wide smile that lifts my lips. My newfound praise kink sits up and takes notice begging for more.
“And these fucking shoes,” he growls, running a finger along the exposed skin of my foot before squeezing my ankle. “You know how to keep me throbbing, don’t you, sweetheart?” he says as his hand continues to wander, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
“Now, it’s time for lunch. Up on the desk and on your knees. Ass up.” He offers a little squeeze.
“What?” My gulp is the only sound in the quiet room. My gaze flicking to the wall of windows behind him and his staff just feet away. Can they see us right now?
“Oh no, don’t act shy now. I know what you like. You like to be seen, to put on a show,” he rasps as I gape at him. “You know I love to show you off but with this little remote…” He grabs a small white controller from his desk, hitting a button. “We can see out, but they can’t see in. Maybe if you’re a good girl and ask me nicely, I’ll let them watch you fall apart on my dick.”
Blood roars in my ears as my heart pounds. His words cloak me in lust and need as his knuckles send a tremor through me as they brush my cheek.
“I knew you’d like that.” His voice is like a silky caress when he says, “I love this beautiful face but get on the desk. Ass up.”
My breath hitches as he steps back, offering his hand. Surprising myself, I accept it, allowing him to pull me to my feet and into his arms.
“First,” he whispers against my lips. “Let’s get you a little more comfortable. Just know these hot as fuck shoes are staying on.”
Humming into his kiss, my eyes close as his fingers work to remove my shirt, pulling it from my skirt. Warm hands encircle my waist, offering a squeeze, before the thin material is raised over my head and tossed aside. My bra hits the floor next.
“God, you’re perfect, London,” he growls into my neck, his hands roaming every curve of my body.
I’m buzzing as I lean into him, basking in the weight of his attention.
“I know.”
He pulls back. “You know, huh?” He smirks as he goes to his knees, taking my skimpy panties and skirt with him. “Good. You fucking should.”
My eyes lock with his, again surprised at what I see, what he’s giving me, as I step from my clothing.
“Don’t make me tell you again. Ass up, gorgeous. Let me see you.”
His words send flickers of flames through me as he helps me onto his desk, and I assume the position.
“That’s it,” he growls, trailing fingertips down my spine. “Widen your legs just a little.”
His grunt of approval sends shivers through me as I bite my lip and do what I’m told, spreading my knees, my cheek pressing into the cool desk.
“That’s my good girl,” he soothes. “You look exquisite.”
With him out of sight, my other senses takeover, and I hear the rustle of fabric as he moves about. My body prickles with goose bumps as the cool air tickles my skin and his familiar scents of citrus, sandalwood, and that dash of chlorine swirls around me and I’m practically panting in anticipation.
The squeak of his chair as he takes a seat, ramps up my desire, and my pussy throbs. I’m so fucking wet.
I’m almost floating away when his voice cuts through the lust fog.
“Yes, sit here and look pretty. I need to get some work done.”
It takes a few seconds for the rapid click clack of keyboard keys to meet my ears and I struggle to sit up. The fuck?
“What are you—”
“No, no.” His warm hand rests in the center of my back, offering a gentle pressure. “I like you right where you are.”
“But—”
“No, you’re here for my pleasure. Let me enjoy you.” His warm breath ghosts over my skin. “You have no idea how you look, spread open for me.” He hums. “How mouthwatering you smell.”
His words and the deep gravel in his voice cause me to shiver as my back arches, seeking more.
“That all sounds great, but I’m not going to sit here while you work,” I protest.
“That smart mouth, I swear it makes my dick hard every time. Let me help you out. Give this mouth something to do besides complain.”
He stands, the soft material of his suit jacket tickling my skin and bends over me, kissing up my back, before my arms are pulled behind me.
Did he…
Yes, he did.
My pulse quickens as the wet silk of my panties move against my wrists.
“Restrained by my own panties? You’re a cad, Mr. Grant,” I say in an exaggerated Southern belle accent.
“I never promised to be anything else. You’ll do well to remember that, Ms. Cameron,” he says as he moves around the desk to stand in front of me.
My eyes are riveted to every movement he makes. His long fingers are somehow graceful as he undoes his belt, opens his pants, and pulls his long, thick dick out. Stroking it languidly. Teasing with it so close to my lips. Lust burns through me and I force myself to meet his gaze.
“One of these days, I'm going to fuck your little throat raw. With your throat sore and your voice hoarse, you won’t be able to talk back for days.” His voice takes on a dreamy quality, as if he’s imagining it right now.
My skin heats at the thought. Wanting to be used by him, but somehow, I know he’d make it just as good for me.
“But for that, I need you on a bed, or somewhere I can spread you out so I can truly enjoy fucking your pretty face. For now, I’ll let you taste me since you’re so eager, and I can’t get any work done.”
“You promised me lunch.” I pout. “Which you said was code for fucking. What did you expect?”
His grin is dark as he reaches down to stroke my hair. “I expected my good girl, but it looks like my favorite greedy cock slut showed up instead. Open wide, I’ll give you something to tide you over until I’m ready.”
If I could shoot fire from my eyes, I would. Not at his dick because I really do want that, but I’d ruin his laptop or even all the furniture in here. But he’s right, I am greedy for him. Giving head was never my favorite, but he has me ready to suck out his soul just to prove that I own him and not the other way around.
He moves those last few inches forward. “Eyes up.” My eyes go to him as he traces my lips with his dick. “Watch me. See how much my cock loves this pretty mouth.”
My tongue darts out, meeting his slick crown, and we both moan before he slides in slowly. His scent of soap and man a powerful cocktail as his heady flavor of arousal coats my tongue.
“Yes, baby. Just like that. I love your sloppy toppy, but I like you like this too. Slow. Deep, and at my mercy.” Pulling back, he slides in deep again and my tongue works to taste all of him. And just as I close my eyes and relax into the slow and steady rhythm he’s set, with his warm hands in my hair, clutching and stroking me, he pulls away abruptly. My blinks are slow, eyes unfocused as he moves back behind the desk.
“That’s my gorgeous girl, now relax for me.”
Adrenaline spikes through me and my legs spread before the words fall from his lips. I practically ache with need for him. I’ve never been so swollen and wet in my entire life.
“All this cake and it’s not even my birthday. Be a good girl and let me clean my fucking plate.”
Warm lips press into my skin as a squeak escapes, and my restrained hands clench as I try to block his view because this is not what I was expecting when I agreed to this.
“Don’t be shy, you know I love cake.” Before I can process those words, his warm breath tinges my skin and I shiver as his big hands find purchase, spreading me open.
Is he…?
Yep, this is happening.
“Look at that pretty fucking hole. I swear, every inch of you is perfect.”
I groan, tensing as he nuzzles against me, his nose tickling my most private place. This is an entirely new sensation for me, and I can’t tell if I like it yet.
“Come on. Let me in. Relax for me, baby,” he murmurs into my skin as his hands roam over my thighs.
The reverence and warmth in his tone soothes me and I sink into his desk as his lips find my hole in a soft kiss.
“Holy shiii…” His warm tongue slips between my crease and slowly laps my sensitive skin.
“Hmm, cake.” Xander delves deeper and my eyes cross as he slurps and nips, his stubble perfectly rough against me. “You like that?”
“Yes,” falls from my lips without even a thought.
Pleasure pools low in my stomach as he groans into me, his tongue flattening, slipping over my hole, and it feels so good, I can’t even be embarrassed that I’m face down ass up on this man’s desk in the middle of the day, whimpering like the whore I am, only for him. But when his fingers move to my pussy, I cry out in ecstasy.
A buzzing fills the room, and my sex starved brain almost combusts as I realize what it is.
“You’re so fucking wet, my sweet cake. Now, be a good girl, and I’ll fill all your needy holes.”