CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MASON
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Giorgio Armani is just a few blocks from my office building, so I walk down to meet the guys.
...and Lexi.
It’s been just under a week since I saw her, and Sebastian assures me that Lexi promises there are no hard feelings. We have all moved on.
The amount of jerking off I’ve done after fucking her against the wall in my office means nothing. Thinking about her bare and spread out on my desk has seen me shamefully stroking myself in my bathroom a couple of times.
It means nothing.
I’m a red-blooded man with healthy sexual needs. Lexi is a beautiful woman.
It’s normal.
Whether she’s guilty of some crime is now none of my business. We are neither dating nor in an employment contract any longer. The image of betrayal in her eyes hits me again, and I push it away.
Right now, Emily and Sebastian’s wedding is far more important.
I don’t owe Lexi anything.
I hired her, she lied, I gave her the opportunity to tell me the truth, and she couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
The sex was consensual.
The end.
Am I ready to face her and be cordial? Yes. It should be fine.
Drew is climbing out of his town car as I stride up to the store. “Hey man.”
We do that man hug thing and spot Colt and Zander inside, so head in.
“Still can’t believe Seb’s getting married.” Drew is a finance tycoon dealing in aggressive takeovers and investments that would make the average man’s eyes bleed.
The risk factor in what he does is so high, I have no idea how he sleeps at night.
Or if he does.
He’s still alive and walks in the sun, so I know he’s not a vampire.
Essentially, he’s a hedge fund manager for names you see in the news and political debates. If I bothered to look at who had the biggest fortune—and most to lose—it would be Drew.
The fucker would probably make it back in a year if he did. Money seems to flow to him, and the entire importance of it rolls off his shoulders.
Me, I’m still fucking paranoid some woman is going to take it from me. And enough have tried. I wish I could get over it, but life hasn’t proven me wrong yet.
Whether one of those women is Lexi, I’ll never know.
The door closes behind us as we all slap shoulders and say hi to one another. The manager walks over and greets us, offering us a glass of champagne and placing some snacks on a glass table.
No sign of Lexi.
I might be in luck...
You wanted to see her.
I’ve fantasized about this goddamn appointment for three long nights. How she’d step into the changing room with me and drop to the floor, straightening my pants, adjusting the fabric, accidentally brushing her hand over my hard cock.
Our eyes would meet.
I’d unzip and fist my cock, desire dripping from the head.
Lexi’s mouth would open–wide!–and I’d quietly slide it in, her eyes watering with its size and her arousal.
It’s my fantasy—my metric system and ratios.
Outside, everyone would be talking and shopping while she sucks on my shaft, working it hard. My head tips back as I fist her long, shiny dark hair, taking one last glimpse down her bulging cleavage before my eyes shut.
Then I blast my hot cum down her throat.
A muted moan escaping me as she pops off the end, wiping her mouth and grinning at me.
That’s when I notice she’s been rubbing her pussy and made herself come at the same time.
Jesus.
Reaching for—
“Mase?”
“Huh?” I turn and stare at the two dark-navy jackets Colt is holding up.
“Which one do you like?”
I clear my throat, “I’m feeling the Armani.”
He frowns.
Oh, shit. This is Armani. I knew that.
God, this woman fucks with my mind and she’s not even here. Not to mention my body. My cock is thickening, and she’s not even here.
Thank god, I didn’t wear my tight pants.
“I’m here, I’m here! Sorry I’m late.” Lexi’s honeyed voice fills the store.
We all turn, and my eyes immediately lock on her long bare legs as she pulls off her coat.
Fucking hell.
She’s wearing a short—and I mean short—cream dress that fits like a glove, made of some sort of knit. The urge to stride over to her and wrap that coat back around her and march her straight...to my bedroom...is almost overpowering.
Instead, I clench my teeth and swallow.
“I was across town, and the traffic was terrible.” She continues.
Across town?
Why?
“Where were you?” I ask, and everyone glances at me.
Lexi’s smile starts to vanish, but she quickly catches herself.
“At a friend’s house in SoHo,” she replies, walking over to me, kissing me on the cheek and then greets the others in similar fashion.
As if I’m just some dude she used to know.
My skin burns where her lips touched, and her jasmine and spice scent lingers.
Also...SoHo? Hardly across town.
What took her so long? Was she in a compromising situation? On a date? Coercing funds from another unsuspecting billionaire.
As she said, there are a lot of princes in this town.
Friend. Pfft.
“So, the wedding planner and Emily have briefed me,” she says to the Giorgio Armani manager. “Do you have the other navy suit that was discussed?”
It’s like nothing happened between us.
Colt glances at me to gauge my reaction.
I don’t have one.
Lexi pops out her hip, and the middle-aged man slides his eyes over her curves while I cross my arms, my stance widening.
Dirty prick.
He better get his dirty gaze off her.
“The men are going to try the three styles on, Ms. Grant.”
“Oh, okay. So, I didn’t miss anything yet?” she spins back to us.
Colt is back on his phone, smirking. I’m starting to think he’s on Porn Hub. Might have to talk to him about his sex addiction.
Drew has his hands in his pockets, ready to get this task done and back to making a fortune.
Like all of us, but that little bit more.
“I’m fine with either. I have thirty minutes, so let’s get this show on the road,” Zander says.
“Agreed. I have a busy day,” Lexi says, taking the suits and shoving them against our chests like she’s our manager and we’re players on a sports team who need to race off to the changing rooms.
Don’t think about the changing rooms.
Her eyes flash past me, then away.
What exactly does her busy day entail?
Or more to the point, with whom?
“Go, go!” she waves her arms.
“I’m sure your day is very important,” I mumble and cross the room, wondering if she has any concept of the amount of money each of us makes per hour.
Per minute.
My interest alone each month is more than she’ll ever make in a lifetime. Not that it’s important, but hurrying along four billionaires because she has a nail appointment at ExpressNails or a roll in the sack with some unsuspecting Wall Street trader is a joke.
What do I care if she’s fucking every guy in Manhattan?
I don’t care.
I’m simply putting up with having her in my life for my best friend. That’s all. I feel nothing.
As I turn to close the door, Lexi walks on those mile-high heels of hers to the velvet sofa, sits, crosses her long legs and accepts a glass of champagne.
Christ.
Is she wearing panties?
I bet she isn’t. Come to think of it, I didn’t see a panty line. Fucking hell. With little effort, I could part those legs and glimpse her pussy.
Is she wet?
Did she like me sucking her clit on my desk? Has she been masturbating?
Our eyes lock when she lifts them, and heat blasts through me. I quickly close the door and tug off my jacket, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
I drop my pants and adjust my cock.
There is some softening that needs to happen before people start focusing on the fit of these pants.
Think about baseball.
I hear the other guys pile out, and the staff offering different sizes and fits.
Go down, for fuck's sake.
I push on my cock, but the damn vision of her dripping wet pussy is too fresh. That single moment where she lifted her eyes, as if she could read my mind. I can almost taste her.
Knowing how she kisses, and knowing how she feels wrapped around my shaft, I can’t simply brush this off.
I’m hard as a rock.
Christ, do I need to jerk off?
“Mason?” Lexi calls out. “Do you need another size?”
I clear my throat. “Nope. This one looks good.”
I pull them on, and they’re tight. Like really damn tight. A size too small, and it’s bad.
Really bad.
Shit.
“Come out so we can see.”
Shiiiiit.
“I’ll just take this one.” I stare at my hard dick outlined against the dark blue fabric, like I’m some porn star.
Or creep.
Or a man sickeningly aroused by a woman he fucked in three inappropriate, erotic spots in his office and now can’t touch.
A woman he should never have touched.
Someone he needs to be playing nice with so things at his best friend’s wedding go smoothly
And the same someone he believes could be untrustworthy and an opportunist. Which sounds nicer than gold digger.
Who he has no right lusting after or wanting at all. In any way.
“We need to see. To make sure the look is consistent for the wedding party,” Lexi replies. “Step out here.”
Fuck no.
I push down on my cock. What is wrong with me?
I can’t go outside this changing room, but the moment I consider asking her to come inside the changing room instead, my dick gets more excited.
And bigger.
Thanks to my goddamn dream.
“Aren’t they all the same?” I curse under my breath.
Baseball.
Shagging my grandmother.
Eating worms.
“Yes, but...is everything okay?”
She’s right outside, and I act without thinking.
There’s no way I’m going out there and letting the entire staff of Giorgio Armani see me incapable of controlling my dick.
I whip open the door, tug her inside, ignore her gasp and slam it closed.
“What—”
“Lexi, I am not going out there with this.” I point at my erection, and her mouth snaps shut.
Quite the opposite of my fantasy, but at least she hasn’t laughed. Yet.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” I slam my hands down on my hips.
Her eyes lift to mine. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Did you pull me in here to...do something about it? Because I think—”
“Lexi,” I rasp. “We both know you could assist and solve this problem very quickly but,” I run my eyes over her firm breasts and curse inwardly.
God, I have a lot of regrets when it comes to this gorgeous woman.
I wish I’d kept my mouth closed and taken her home the first night, taking time enjoying her gorgeous body, and mouth.
Before Harrow had burst the bubble.
Lexi stares at my cock, which doesn’t help, then leans her hip against the wall. It’s so damn sexy I almost reach for her dress and shove it up.
We aren’t alone.
This is not a private moment.
And I’ve hurt her.
Outside, the guys are bantering and giving each other shit.
“How come Mason gets personal treatment?” Zander calls out.
“But?” Lexi lifts a brow. “But you think I’m a whore, don’t you, Mason Kingsley? Fine, let’s play that out.”
My gaze darkens as I press my lips together, not willing to make a scene.
“One thousand dollars, and I’ll sort out your little problem, Mr. Kingsley.” She bites down on one of her long gold nails.
“What are you doing?” I growl.
“Ten Benjamins.” She steps forward, running her finger down my torso and whispers. “Pull out your cock, and I’ll lick your weeping cock and deal with your little problem.”
Fuck me.
“Lexi,” I softly growl, almost bursting through the fabric. Her angry eyes meet mine. “It’s not little, and that’s not what I think.”
“Pay up, Mason.”
My teeth almost crack when I clench my jaw.
She cups my cock, and I grip her hair, torn between letting her carry on and stopping her.
Fuck, I want her to continue.
“Get out,” I ground out.
Lexi shrugs as if it’s not a big deal to her.
“Treat me like a whore, and I’ll be one. You choose.”
“I never called you a whore,” I hiss.
She steps back, her charade dropped, and I see the hurt in her eyes. “Yeah, you did. A whore and a liar. Which I am neither, so fuck you.”
Before I can say another word, she slips out the door, and laughter ensues as she makes a joke about being a personal tailor and me being shy.
Fury greets me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
And my dick is still hard as granite.
For the first time in my life, I wish I could turn back time, lose money on a fucking contract and never be the wiser about a woman.
The contract with Harrow & Armstrong Engineering was signed, and it’s officially our biggest foreign deal.
But I lost Lexi.
I just didn’t know she meant that much to me.
Mark’s parting comment, along with a slap on the shoulder, was. “Glad to see you got rid of the girl.”
The girl.
Like Lexi was yet to become a woman.
“I didn’t,” I replied a little defensively. “She quit.”
He laughed. “I bet she did after seeing me. Trust me, you have dodged a bullet.”
Have I?
Or is there something I’m missing? Because she’s not acting like a guilty woman, she’s behaving like she’s been wronged.
I need to know if I’m now one of those assholes who have hurt her.
When I step out, and she’s standing directly in front of Drew, a smirk on his face and a knowing glint in his eyes, I almost snap.
No fucking way.
That is not happening.