"Can't wait to catch up with you tomorrow, sis," Sloane yells out, and I can't help but smile as I watch him retreat with his tail between his legs.

What was he thinking, coming here unannounced? Racquetball my fucking ass.

I don't know who he thought he was kidding.

He's outmatched. It's almost too easy. He's a naïve kid trying to maneuver in a grown man's game. The sooner he realizes this, the better off he'll be.

He'll quickly see that he's playing a losing strategy.

My hand is still resting on Natalie's leg, and I move it to her hair, brushing a few blonde strands behind her ear. "Where were we?" I ask, smiling.

"We were talking about something … Dirty," she smiles back.

"Of course, Dirty Lil' Angels."

I watch as she takes a careful sip of her wine, but before we can talk business, our waiter approaches, placing a half dozen chilled, raw oysters in front of us.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asks.

"I like secrets."

"I've never eaten a raw oyster before."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. I'm a little … nervous," she laughs. There's an innocence hidden in her laugh and it makes my heart kick in my chest. I want to pull her close to me and allow myself to get drunk on her smell alone.

"You know what they say about oysters …" I smile, and she nods. I squeeze a wedge of lemon on them and watch their flesh ripple from the acidity. I reach for Natalie's hand. It's delicate, smaller than I remember, and the realization of it makes my cock twitch. "Here, take this fork."

She grabs it tenderly and follows my lead.

"Move it around like this, in its own juice," I say, her hand still in mind, and together we give the oyster a gentle swirl. "So that it's not still attached to the shell."

"It looks so weird," she says, scrunching her nose. For a split second, I see her as a child again.

"Trust me," I reply, locking my eyes on hers. "Tasting this is an experience you won't soon forget."

I take the fork from her hand and replace it with the shell of the oyster.

"Here, hold it." I watch as she grabs it with the tips of her perfectly manicured fingers, the scarlet polish on her nails flashing against the cold grey of the shell. I lean in close, speaking just above a whisper, making sure my breath brushes against her neck.

I know, from some corner of this building, that Sloane is watching, and for a reason that I can't exactly explain, the thought of that makes me fucking hard.

"Go ahead. Slurp it down."

She begins to part her lips, bringing it to her mouth, but I stop her. "Not that end," I say. "Turn it around. That way, it slides right in."

"Do I chew it?"

"Just once. But you really just want to take it down your throat," I say, a grin forming across my lips.

She returns the smile, and raises it back to her lips. I watch as her pink, moist lips part again, and she places the edge of the shell to her mouth. She tilts her head back, exposing her slender throat to me, and for a second, I imagine dragging my tongue across its soft surface, and resting it against her pulse. I wonder how fast her heart is beating, and what she tastes like.

Fuck, I really hope Sloane is watching.

Just as I instructed her to, she slides the oyster into her mouth and gives it one quick chew. I watch as her throat undulates.

"So?" I ask, as soon as she finishes.

She smiles. "That tasted like I got slapped by the ocean."

"Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing," she purrs.

"I'm glad because there's more where that came from," I say, looking down at the chilled platter.

She reaches for another, repeating the process. As she does it, my eyes travel down the length of her body, savoring every inch of it. What's her motive for meeting me tonight? Something tells me that she has a hidden agenda, but I don't know what.

"You're awfully quiet," she says, turning her attention back to me. "Is that why they call you The Shark? Are you a silent sort of predator?"

I don't answer her right away, but instead I smile. Finally, I say, "Just admiring … that's all. I could certainly eat you for dessert."

"Still hungry?"

"Starving. You have no idea."

"I like a man with a big … appetite," she coos.

As if my cock wasn't hard enough already, now it's as stiff as stone. And as much as I want to bend her over this bar, I know we should talk business.

"About your company," I say, "I'm interested in investing."

"I appreciate that, but how can I trust you? You're the Shark of Wall Street. You eat companies for breakfast."

I place my hand on top of hers. "You can trust me, Natalie. I want to help. Tell me about your toys."

She smiles. "They're more than just toys, and there's nothing else like them on the market."

"So you've said. But what do they really do?"

"Well," she says, inching her body closer to mine. "They can do a lot of things that a cock can't."

"Is that so?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"One can connect wirelessly to a Kindle, and runs on AI."

"You're losing me—AI?"

"Yeah, you know … artificial intelligence. So it knows when a woman is reading a sex scene because it'll begin to stimulate her at just the right times."

"Interesting, but how is that better than a real live cock?"

"I never pegged you as a man who'd get defensive over a toy," she laughs.

"I'm not defensive, just wondering."

"I didn't say it was better; I said it could do things that a cock couldn't," she smiles.

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, it can fit discretely in a purse and last for hours."

"Who says I can't last for hours?" I smile.

"Can you?"

"There's only one way to find out."

She momentarily ignores the innuendo. "The way these toys move is also … unique."

"You know what I think?" I ask, but don't wait for an answer. "I think we should try these toys out … tonight … take one for a test drive."

She takes another slow sip of wine and carefully places the glass down. There's a slight imprint of her lips left on the rim of her glass from her lipstick. She's growing increasingly intoxicated—maybe from a mixture of the wine, the thought of toys greater than cocks, and oysters sliding down her throat—but even her legs are loose and she parts them slightly. She grabs my hand and brings it to the top of her warm, soft, thigh.

"You know what I think … daddy?"

I shake my head, not knowing what's going to come next. The word hangs in the air, thick and full of promise.

She shoves my hand up her leg a little further and purrs, "I think you're right."