“Naughty girl.” Colt’s voice poured through the line like whisky over melting ice.
Giddy, breathless, I laughed. “Where were you tonight?” Look at me, all horny but still trying to change the subject.
“Out. Where were your hands a few minutes ago?” He wasn’t falling for it. The man knew what he wanted and he was keeping after it. “Are you naked?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m in my pajamas.”
“Which are?” His voice rolled out, deep and low.
“A shirt and panties.” He was probably used to women who wore silky lingerie to bed. But here I was, take me or leave me.
“What kind of panties?” Now his voice sounded more husky. Where was he just then? Lying down in his bed? And what was he doing with his hands?
“They’re just cotton.” And they felt so tight and constricting at the moment. I brought my finger down to the seam and stroked. I’d soaked them through.
“What style?”
“They’re boyshorts.”
“Fitted on your ass?” Now he was definitely breathing more heavily. So was I.
“Yes.”
“Do they ride up a little in back?”
“Yes.”
“So you can see some of your ass cheeks when you wear them?”
“Um hm.”
He groaned. “I love your ass, Caroline. I need to do all kinds of nasty things to it.”
“Like what?” I asked, breathless.
“I’ll only tell you if you slip your finger down into your pussy and stroke it for me.”
I sighed and sank my fingers into my slick heat.
“Are you wet?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I confessed, sliding my fingers along, circling my clit.
“That’s good. I like that. Now work yourself slowly. You can’t come until I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I panted, already close, especially after he told me I couldn’t. Somehow that made me want it more.
“Now, I want you to know, Caroline. I have some needs. I can be rough. And there’s a way I like to play.”
I whimpered, closing my eyes so I could focus on his delicious voice, so velvet and dark.
“Do you want to hear about it?” he teased.
“Yes,” I moaned.
“The next time I see you,” he continued. “I want to take you across my lap. We can start with your boy shorts on. Your ass cheeks peeking out. And I’m going to spank you. My hand’s going to come down hard on your ass. It’s going to make your skin pink and it’s going to sting. Can you imagine how that would feel?”
“Yes.” My heart fluttering, I clutched at the pillow, so shocked and turned on.
“Then I’m going to slide down your panties and check. You’ll be wet, won’t you, baby?”
“Yes.” My fingers moved faster now, working a slick rhythm.
“You’ll be dripping for me. Because you’ll like the feel of my hand on your ass. You’ll beg for it. I’ll bring it down again and you’ll pink right up. It’ll hurt and you might try to squirm, but I’ll keep you there. Right. Where. I. Want. You.”
I moaned, twisting against my hand. His words had me so fucking turned on. My clit throbbed and I could feel tremors building in my core, but I slowed myself down. He’d told me to wait.
“You’re not coming yet, are you?” he asked.
“No.” I felt guilty about how close I’d come.
“That’s it. Good girl. Wait until I tell you. I’m going to give you a good, hard spanking. You’re going to moan and twist, like you’re doing right now.”
Oh, he was right, I was writhing against my hand, half-crazy with lust, practically feeling his large, firm hand against my pink ass.
“And you’re going to want to come. You’re going to want it so bad, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I groaned, wanting to come, needing to come.
“But you’ll know you have to wait. Until I lean down and spread your legs so I can get a good look at your dripping pussy. Then I can lick and suck your clit so you can come, hard, right in my mouth.”
“Ah!” I cried out, right on the verge, unable to hold out.
“Come for me, Caroline,” he ordered and I came with a heady, intense orgasm that made my senses swim. Panting, I kept bucking against my hand, crying out, calling his name into the phone.
“That’s it,” he praised me and it made me shudder again, the way he savored my pleasure. “You’re going to taste so good in my mouth,” he whispered.
He might be trying to kill me. If that was his goal, he was doing an excellent job.
CHAPTER 9
Colt
Leonard would not shut up. In some past life he must have been a mafia boss, because the man was convinced that everyone and his brother was out to get him.
“We’ve got to keep an eye on that or it’s going to blow up on us,” seemed to be his favorite phrase. I’d kept him on these past few years since I’d assumed the throne, partially to keep the board happy while the company changed hands from father to son, and partially because my father had recommended it. Before he’d passed, he’d given me explicit instructions on who I should keep close. Leonard had made the cut.
But times changed. The two of us seemed to be experiencing more and more friction. Where I wanted to take a risk, he wanted to hold back. Where I thought it made more sense to hold our cards, he wanted to lay them all out. We weren’t seeing eye to eye.
“You’ve got to nip that protest in the bud,” he ordered, pointing at me across my desk. He’d moved on to discussing the problem of the environmentalists in Redwood Bay.
“I’ve got it all under control,” I reassured him. I couldn’t wait to have one protester in particular under my control, her luscious breasts bare, her hands bound so I could enjoy her any way I wanted. I’d make her so wet.
“I know you th
ink you do,” Leonard disagreed. “But these things have a way of—”
“Blowing up on us. Yes, I know,” I interrupted. School was out. I didn’t need any more lectures from the teacher. I was the principal now.
I stood up to walk Leonard out of my office. He might need to be walked out of the company, too.
Even a giant like Kavanaugh Investors couldn’t sit and rest on its laurels. We had to constantly push forward, question our past assumptions, open up to new ideas and better ways of doing things. I wanted to head more into the high tech space. Leonard liked staples. He’d even suggested investing in coffee suppliers earlier this week, as if he didn’t know all the mounting pressures and concerns about sustainable bean harvesting and ethical supply chain management. We needed to change the way we structured our investments. It was all about future growth potential.
I’d meant it when I’d told Caroline to look into eco-resort models for that spot in Redwood Bay. We’d never built one before, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe we could make the endangered lichen a feature, partner with a West Coast aquarium to design a viewing area with local creatures, advertise that a percentage of our profit would be donated to support sea life. It could become a family destination. We could offer sea kayaking and nature walks.
My job wasn’t to work out the details. My role was to see potential and enable others to expand into it. There was no way I needed to, or even should make another trip out to Redwood Bay. This was a perfect transition point to hand the reins over to my build team onsite. But I wanted to see Caroline again.
Life seemed a bit grayer since I’d seen her in that vivid red dress. Each day without her brought a relatively predictable cycle: workout, meeting, business meal, meeting, business meal, meeting, function, event. Repeat the next day. I’d always enjoyed firing on all cylinders, navigating through my day with vicious precision, accomplishing more in a typical 16 hours than many did in a month. But back in New York, my mind kept straying.