Epilogue

Rainier

Two Months Later

I’ve got a goddamn meeting in one hour—no, fifty minutes—and I can’t find Ella anywhere. She’s supposed to be my personal assistant, with me in whatever capacity I need. But she’s not here, and I need the notes for the meeting right now. She’s being a very bad girl. I don’t want to have to punish her, but I will.

I’ve met oil magnate Cal Miller before—on occasion at Mystique Island, in fact—but we have never formally discussed business. I’m considering a new career direction, though it doesn’t actually mean anything. My stake in Howell & McKenzie is unshakeable, but I might find an acting CEO and venture to greener pastures.

Rex has lost a lot of his luster since Mystique Island. He’s been slipping, and I want to get some space… although I’m certain the company will be fine. He’s an asshole, but he’s still a genius with land and money. Until I come back, I’m interested in diversifying my capital. Possibly even venturing fully into a new field, and it won’t do to be completely without my paperwork for the meeting. I wanted to talk very specific numbers, math we painstakingly did all week.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late,” Ella huffs, pushing through the entrance of my mansion with her arms loaded in binders. She wears a glamorous tea dress, like one of Don Draper’s conquests from Mad Men, and she smiles up at me helplessly as she tries to shoulder the door shut without dropping the binders. I notice that her makeup has been freshened since she left, and it looks like it belongs on a movie star. Her lips pop, her eyelashes are gigantic, and her cheeks glow in the light. When the hell did she have time for all that while she’s supposed to be at work right now?

“Where have you been?” I demand, stern… even though I also come forward and scoop the binders out of her overloaded arms.

“Thank you,” she breathes. “Um, I just…” Her big lashes blink up at me and she knows that she’s caught. Her crimson mouth folds down in a pout. “I stopped at Sephora on the way back,” she confesses, “because they’ve got in this new brand and they had an opening at the makeup counter and—”

“And you completely lost focus on the time?” My fingers stretch and catch on her chin, tilting her smoky eyes up to mine. I do love the makeup. It’s that exotic, bombshell look I used to crave… though I don’t need it as much as I thought I would. And I’m not as mad as I’m pretending to be. Seeing her here now, in the dress and the makeup and the heels, looking so beautiful, loaded down with binders for my meeting, she looks like the perfect woman all over again.

“I’m sorry that I’m late,” she repeats softly. “We still have forty-five minutes.”

“That’s not a lot of time.”

“But—” Her smoky lashes bat with confusion. “We’re only fifteen minutes away from his office.”

“Yes, but we also need time for me to relieve some stress,” I tell her, lowering my voice into a near hiss. My hand travels to her throat and holds it snugly, lovingly… but firmly. “You know how I get when you’re not around.”

“I know how you get when I’m around, too,” she breathes, and I clench my jaw.

“Get on your knees, Miss Petit,” I command her. “You’ve got less than thirty minutes to swallow my load and fix your makeup again.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, climbing down onto her knees. I know she just got it done… and she understands why I have to ruin it. Because she’s a bad girl.

I unbelt myself and open my zipper. My erection swings in the air beneath the bottom of my buttoned shirt, and gorgeous Ella glances up at me once, as if uncertain, and then obediently takes my thick head into her perfect little mouth. She doesn’t break eye contact as she squeezes her throat down its length, taking all of me, and my balls draw up.

“Fuck, yeah, smear all your lipstick,” I growl, thickening at the sight. Her lipstick smears away, leaving pink smudges on her chin and under her nose, trekking over my cock. “You were a bad girl, and I should spank you, but I don’t have the time. So swallow every drop of this, baby. Then you’ll be my good girl again. Then you’ll really be helping.”

My heart aches as her eyes squeeze shut in concentration and she brings her hands up to my slick shaft, working them up and down the length with real passion. She wants to make me come. She’s playing me hard. My head falls back and I thank God for Isabella Petit, my perfect woman. The kind of woman who will drop to her knees and ruin her lipstick on your cock. The kind of woman who will close her eyes and work your shaft hard because you say you need it. I want to make her Isabella Howell someday… but for right now, this blowjob is exquisite.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” I grunt, reaching into her hair, pulling her head back and forth, making her take just a little bit more. I know that she likes it, and I’ll be damned if I don’t. My load tingles at the tip of my head and I know it’s going to come. I know it’s going to be a lot. “Fuuuck…” I look down at her again, wildly working me, her hair a mess, her makeup destroyed. Fuck, yeah. My perfect assistant. “It’s coming,” I pant, bucking into her. “It’s coming…”

I spasm and the hot seed pours from me, into her mouth. She takes it all, drinking me, and then looks up from my spent prick and beams. Tears crowd her eyes from having triggered her gag reflex, but she’s proud of herself.

“That’s my girl,” I remind her huskily, dragging her off her poor knees. “That’s my good girl.” My hand swings down and clutches her ass appreciatively, giving that generous booty a little jiggle. “What are you going to do while I’m at my meeting?”

“Honestly?” she pipes.

“Of course.”

“I think I’m going down to the spa for a facial, a massage, and a wrap,” she confesses, nipping into her lower lip. “I know. I am a bad girl.”

I laugh. It’s true that, since becoming my woman, she doesn’t work as hard as she used to. I insist on pampering her, and she’s slowly bending to that insistence. She’s just getting used to being my queen. The only person she needs to serve is me, and the kingdom is hers. The crazy part is that she seems to love me. Serving me brings her pleasure, not resentment. It’s strange… but addictive.

“You deserve it,” I tell her, leaning down and kissing her bee-stung lips one more time. “Have a good time. I want to see you when I get back, though, in about two, two and a half hours. We’ve got a very important project to finish.”

I really should be getting downtown, but I can’t peel myself away from Ella. I’ve never been like this before, but with her… I’m opening up like a fucking flower.

“What project?” she asks.

I suck my lower lip, let my eyes trail her, and then release my lip again. “You. You’ve been working so hard, baby. When I need a massage, you’re on my back. When I have a wrinkle in my shirt, you get the iron. When I’m tired, you turn out the lights. And when I’m horny…” I growl a little bit and sway into her, my arms encircling her waist. “You’re on top of that, too.”

Ella shies away from my predatory gaze but her hands trail down my shirt. I’m going to be late for this goddamn meeting. If she doesn’t watcht out, I’m going to miss it entirely, and we’ll both be bad.

“I don’t need anything,” she says. “I love my job.”

“Oh, I think you need something,” I tell her. “You need a long, hard massage, and you need me sucking on your clit all night long.”

“Mm.” But Ella steps away and I lick my lips. She bites her lower lip and nods toward the door. “See you tonight, then. When should I pencil you in?”

“Eight o’clock,” I answer sternly, already hard again just thinking about it. “And don’t be late, Miss Petit. You know what happens when you’re late.”