Chapter 3
Chapter Three
There are exactly three things you should know about my boss Leif Dagon.
First, and arguably the most important, he isn’t a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of guy. He’s absolutely the kind of man to fire you for speaking out of line.
Second, he remembers everything. Every mistake you ever made, and every time you go above and beyond. He will hold you to that new standard going forward.
Third? And the most dangerous. He’s beautiful.
Disarmingly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes me want to put a paper bag over his head and call it a public service.
Tall. Not suggested like the other guy. Six foot two, and I know because I eavesdropped the last time he went in to donate blood at the office. Don’t care why they asked.
And he’s lean like a swimmer during the Olympics. I just know if I touched or fixed his lapel, I’d feel every one of those muscles ripple under his vest.
I’ve done it. I won’t do it again.
It’s called self-control.
Salt-and-pepper hair means I’ve already filed him as a silver fox. Even though he doesn’t look a day over forty.
Yet it’s those eyes that ensnare me. Nothing remarkable about them, really. Blue. Except I swear they sparkle in the light. And they are currently fixed on me.
“You wanted to talk, sir?” That’s it, Hadley. Keep it professional.
“The man security pulled out.”
“Yes, sir.” I cut him off, reassuring him. I knew he’d be a problem. “He won’t bother you again.” I blush all over knowing I heard what he offered Leif.
Viagra.
Oh, by the gods. That means… Nope. That just turns him from a ten to a one.
If he can’t get it up, that’s a serious issue. And not my problem, even if my fantasies make it my problem.
He tilts his head. Sucks in that top pouty lip. And damn me but I trace it with my eyes.
“Hadley?” He takes a cautious step toward me. “Are you well?”
“Will there be anything else, sir?” I choke on my own words as I run away. Toward the fundraiser. Toward people I have a chance with. People who aren’t my boss.
My sexy, tall, dreamy boss. Who I don’t have a crush on.
“No,” he says, but it sounds like he wants to say yes.
“Great,” I rush out, turning to walk backward for a moment. “I’ll see you before speeches?”
He doesn’t say a damn thing. Just tilts his head up the way all rich boys do. Which is a great reminder that I’m so far out of his league I don’t even belong in the same arena.
I spin around, the great hall my next destination.
Only as I walk toward it, my other boss steps out. Enzo Flauros.
Where Leif is the Director of Acquisitions, Enzo is his… muscle.
Enzo is the one who heads those recovery missions on the pirate ships. Leif tracks it down, Enzo actually gets it. And he looks the part.
I once called him the Rock. I’ll never make that mistake again. He literally growled at me.
But my point remains. Enzo isn’t someone you fuck with. He’s got that whole cartel vibe about him. Not as tall as Leif but built.
Built like the kind of guy who could throw you over his shoulder and rock your world in some very interesting positions.
And there I go again.
Wearing a black suit that looks like it might rip at any moment, Enzo touches the comm at his ear. And he’s blocking my way.
“Hadley.” Enzo pauses at the entrance to the hall’s double doors, his stance wide and his arms casual.
The hair on my neck stands up. I turn before I know why I’m turning. Leif is rounding the corner. Something doesn’t feel right. But I can’t quite name it.
“Mr. Flauros,” I say it with a smile because he is my boss’s what? Assistant? Muscle? Bodyguard? “How can I help you?”
He stares at me like he is staring straight through me to Leif and I’m in the way. Maybe that’s why I step to the side.
No idea, but that sidestep?
It does me dirty.
I trip. One heel catches the other and I’m going down.
Only I don’t hit the floor. Leif catches me. And there it is again. The scent of icing I just got out of my head.
“Hadley.” My name rushes from his lips and it does funny things to my stomach. And dangerous things to the other parts of me.
“Up.” Enzo says from behind me flatly. The hand at the small of my back is the only thing keeping me upright now that Leif is letting go like I’m too hot to touch.
“Sorry. Heels. Stupid shoes.” I wave at my own foot like it’s the one that needs to apologize. “I’ll just—yeah. Air. I need air. Do you need air? I need to breathe.”
Maybe more wine and less talking.
I center myself, which is an impossible task with two delicious men hovering over me.
Their pupils are blown to hell and back. Something I’m not dissecting right now and maybe not ever. Because if I think about it my hindbrain will tell me it’s lust. That look is all lust and sexy secrets and dirty positions in back rooms.
Oh hell.
“Excuse me,” I squeak, heading back toward Africa and quiet restrooms where I can plunge myself in cold water.
I’m practically running, tapping my comm that is still quiet. As I round a bend, I give the security camera the finger and enter the dark bathroom. Alone.
The light delay takes longer than three seconds, and I’m already at the sink by the time the light flickers on.
My palms flatten on the porcelain sink, the cold anchors me back to reality as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Slowly.
It’s not helping.
Looking at the woman in the mirror is pointless. Her silvery faded pink hair sits at the base of her head in a bun. Strands fly away from the humidity. Pale cheeks flush pink and my chest is splotchy.
“Told you to go for the sleeved dress,” I mutter at the mirror. I hang my head and flip on the faucet. Cold water pours into my hand and though I want nothing more than to splash it on my face, I’m way too vain to let my makeup run.
So I sip the water like the dainty bitch I am and turn it back off.
“What is wrong with you tonight?” I hiss at the reflection. “Two years of nun behavior and now you want to lick a stranger in a service hallway? And be the filling in an Enzo and Leif cookie. Pull it together, slut.”
I’m really not.
So I can only blame absolute insanity for my next thought.
“Get off and get back to it.” I eye up that handicap stall. It’s a terrible idea.
But one orgasm never hurt anyone. Right?
Biting the inside of my cheek, I overthink it. Until I act on impulse. Hiking up my dress, I lock myself in the stall, heart pounding. All while letting the water run. People will just think I’m pooping.
That’s the better thought.
This is the most chaotic thing I’ve ever done. I could’ve done this in any of the empty exhibits. No, no too many cameras. Bathroom stall it is.
Fuck, I’m never going to live this down. No one needs to know.
Propping my heeled toe on the toilet, I lean against the stall door and close my eyes. My skin is hypersensitive. More so than usual. When I run my hands along my shoulder, I hiss out a breath.
It’s like my whole body is connected to my clit.
The flabby part of my triceps? Erogenous.
The knuckle of my finger? Erogenous.
Every little spot sends electricity through me.
My dress hangs over my thigh as I glide my hands over my stockinged legs. Closer to the heat pulsing from my core. I grip the purse hanger as my fingers glide over my pussy lips. My panties are soaked right through to my stockings.
My whole body nearly collapses on itself as I run my fingers over the seam of my pussy again. Wetness pushes through the fabric, coating my fingers.
I push harder through the fabric to my clit. Damn well knowing I need a cock deep inside me. And that this is only going to make me more ravenous.
I should stop. Then I won’t be so hungry.
But my fingers sink deeper. My chest pulses. And my hips buck into my hands.
I’d draw this out, but I don’t want to.
And then my mind fills in the blanks. With a man right before me. His face flips between Enzo, Leif, and the strange man at the steps.
He drops to his knees. Rips my stockings in half. Pockets my panties before he buries his face in my needy cunt.
My eyes roll to the back of my head that smacks on the stall door.
I shove my hand down my panties, needing to feel just how wet I am. Just how needy I am for this stranger. For all three really.
My middle finger sinks between my seam, my clit rises to greet me. Or maybe that’s my hips bucking into my hand.
I press my palm into my clit, my hips rolling to match.
I imagine Leif now. Hands on my hips. Those crystalline eyes locked on me as I come apart under his tongue. Soft and slow and dangerous.
I grip the bag holder harder as I fuck my hand faster and faster.
The edges of my vision blur as the orgasm builds inside me. I want to hold it off as much as I want to come.
My mouth parts as the vision takes on a mind of its own.
He runs his tongue over my clit again and again as he watches me.
Then Enzo is behind me, his cock pressing into my ass as he holds my neck just fucking right.
The one where his whole palm grips me neck forcing me to look at him as I fall apart.
I don’t just come. I fucking explode.
My orgasm rips through me. Fast, furious, and impossibly gratifying. As though every orgasm before this one was meaningless. Nothing but a party trick. And still I want more.
No, I want the real thing.
My head slams back to the stall door. My whole body convulses and it takes me a few moments to come back to earth.
But I already want more and I really need to get back to work.
Ever so gently I remove my fingers, my body still shaking as I put myself back together.
I wash my hands. This time I turn the water off and face the door.
“Mingle. Give a speech. Go home to Barnaby.” That’s my mantra as I push through the door, coming face to face with Leif.
“Satisfied?” he asks while his eyes fuck me just like my fantasy suggested they would.