"You're a feisty fucking one, aren't you?" I smile.

Without answering, she bats her eyelashes and tugs the zipper of my pants down in one quick movement. The force of it makes my cock twitch.

There's a shrill metallic zing, and before I know it, her hand is on my cock. The suddenness of it all makes me fucking hard.

"What's your name, kitten?" I ask, running my fingers through her wavy auburn hair. Although I'm not sure why I even asked. Let's face it; I don't give a fuck about her name. I won't remember it.

Tomorrow she'll be just another face. Interns are all the same—young, and eager to please, and I see a perfect pair of tits and ass in front of me that I plan on fucking faster than you can read this page.

"Mandy," she replies, "My name is Mandy. Mandy Johnson.”

Well Mandy Johnson can spend some time stroking my fucking johnson. She pulls down my boxer briefs, and as soon as she does, my cock springs free and slaps her across the face. It takes her by surprise, and I don't blame her.

This 12-inch pussy-pleasing fuck stick is a lot to take in.

Go ahead. Take a good, long look.

Don't be shy.

Impressed? I thought so. I'm the entire package—8-pack abs, blue eyes hotter than a bolt of lightning, and a chiseled physique—and not just the regular oh my god he’s so ripped kind of chiseled. No. I make most of the fucking guys on romance novels on your e-reader look fucking obese I’m so fucking cut. Naughty Angel Publishing wanted me on their covers but I said hell no.

Let’s not forget my money. More fucking wealth than most people know what to do with.

You’re either intrigued or you’re rolling your eyes. Thinking you heard this all before. You seen this all before.

I got just one thing to say.

I’m just getting started, darlin'.

While Mandy's on her knees, I reach down and work my fingers through her hair some more. The smell of her shampoo fills the space between us like a bouquet of roses. Once I have a fistful of her hair in my hand, I yank her head back.

"You want this, don't you kitten?"

"More than you know, Mr. Stackford," she purrs.

"Tell me how much you want my cock."

I want to hear those words spill off her lips, but instead of answering, she gives me a wicked smile and opens her mouth wide.

Fuck. That's the only answer I need.

I watch as she parts those moist, red lips of hers, and as soon as she does, I grab my cock and bounce the tip against her tongue. She grabs it and guides it into her mouth, taking me in until I feel my cock press against the back of her throat.

"Oh fuck, that's it," I moan. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She works my cock, increasing her pace, and then reaches for my balls, tugging on them in between her delicate fingers. My cock looks massive against her small hand, and that just makes me harder.

Her tits are spilling out of her low-cut shirt and I slide my hands over those two perfect scoops, pinching her nipples in between my fingers. She's moaning and working my cock faster now, but I pull it out of her mouth with a wet popping sound.

"Bend over," I say, pointing to my desk.

She complies, and I lift up her skirt.

The phone on my desk is ringing, but I ignore it. Whoever it is that needs me right now can wait. I have more important things to attend to right now.

Being the founder of Stackford Capital, a high-risk brokerage firm on Wall Street, has its perks—namely that I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want … and I do it well.

I've made this firm, and the people in it, so much money we could wallpaper your house in hundred dollar bills without blinking an eye, if you wanted us to.

“I want you inside of me," Mandy moans, looking back at me. I grin and press my hand against her wet pussy, and then yank down her thong.

She's gripping the edge of my desk in both hands. I can almost feel her anticipation building.

I push a finger inside of her pussy, sliding it all the way in, hitting her G-spot.

She's moaning and rocking her ass back and forth, inviting me in.

I grin, and with a forceful thrust, I push my cock inside of Mandy.

"Deeper," she moans, lifting one leg on top of the desk, giving me unrestricted access.

"Be careful what you wish for," I smile, and thrust into her so deep her toes curl.

"Yes, oh yes," she purrs.

"Fuck," I moan, as I feel my muscles begin to tense under the hot wave of desire coursing through my entire body. Any minute now, I'm going to explode.

"On your knees," I instruct, pulling my cock out.

She gives me another wicked grin and complies. I angle my cock toward her mouth and she takes me in, parting those plump red lips of hers, and moving up and down my shaft.

As soon as I throw my head back, I fucking explode. My cock is twitching and pumping white-hot arcs of cum into her mouth, on her lips, and on her face as she continues to milk me with an insatiable hunger. She's looking up at me and holding my gaze, her mascara slightly smudged with sweat and cum.

I return her gaze with a smile.

But that smile doesn't last long because before I can even put my cock back in my fucking pants, the door to my office flies open.

The force of it knocks a picture off the wall.

When I look at the door, I see her—Wanda Seymour—a devil dressed in Louboutin heels so sharp that the carpet buckles under each step she takes. When she lifts her heels, I notice that those iconic red soles match the blood red shade of her lips. It's an uncanny comparison.

"Well, look what we have here," she smirks. She's holding her phone in one manicured hand, snapping photos of the scene. I look down and realize that my fucking cock is still in Mandy's mouth.

Fuck. This can't be good. What's she doing here?

"It's—it's not what it looks like," Mandy pleads.

"Oh really?" Wanda says, her eyes glowing like coals.

"He coerced me, I swear," Mandy says, trying to wipe up the lingering cum off of her cheeks.

"Could this scene be interpreted any other way? Because it looks pretty obvious to me," Wanda laughs.

"I what?" I ask, lifting my pants up and looking back at Mandy. Now I'm really fucking confused.

Mandy doesn't answer me, and instead, quickly straightens herself up and leaves my office.

Wanda smiles and settles herself into one of my leather chairs. She has one leg crossed over the other, which mirrors her arms folded across her chest.

The way she crosses her arms pushes her tits up even more than her low-cut blouse already does, and I can't help but notice how perfect each one would fit inside of my mouth right about now.

I shake that thought from my head. I can't be thinking about wanting to fuck Wanda right now. Besides, she's the devil incarnate.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Let's cut to the chase," she smiles.

I reach for a bottle of bourbon that I keep tucked in my desk. I figure whatever she's about to say can't be good, and the only way I'm going to be able to hear her out is if I chase it with a stiff drink.

I pour a couple of ounces of the amber liquid into a glass.

"Go on," I say.

"I have a long list of things you can do for me."

"And what makes you think I'm going to do that?" I ask.

She smiles and pulls her phone from her purse. "Let's see," she says, scrolling through her photos, "I think this picture is particularly compelling, don't you? Do you think the media would agree?"

She flashes her phone toward me. On the screen I see myself, a startled look on my face, pants down, cock standing in the center of the frame like a fucking totem pole, and Mandy on her knees, wide-mouthed.

"You wouldn't," I say.

"I would, Derek," she grins, "And I will, if you don't do as I say."

"You're a self-sufficient woman," I reply. "What's so important that you need my help?"

"This is about Eliza."

Fuck. Hearing that name makes me freeze. It's been years, and now here Wanda is, bringing the past right in front of my face. I shake my head.

"I don't know what you've got planned, but I don't want anything to do with it," I say.

Wanda just laughs, and scrolls through the contacts in her phone.

"That's fine," she shrugs. "I'll go ahead and start dialing every major reporter in this city. They'll love this lead."

Hearing her say this makes my stomach drop. I know she's telling the truth. She wouldn't hesitate for a moment to crush me.

I look up at the ceiling again.

"Wait," I say. "Don't do that. Tell me what you need." Just hearing the desperation in my voice makes Wanda smile.

She looks up from her phone and grins. "I'm glad you're coming to your senses. Now, where were we? Ah yes, that's right, we were talking about Eliza. Let's start from the top."

Fuck.

What have I gotten myself into?

I look to the ceiling above my desk.

Agreeing to work with Wanda is like wrestling with a scorpion. Sooner or later, you're going to get stung. It's an inevitable fact.

I just hope that this time … it isn't fatal.