Chapter 20

Crissy

By nine the next morning, we were on the road. The SUV Grant had rented was massive, and it allowed me to lean my seat all the way back and spread my legs to stretch. I didn’t want to tell him I was prone to getting car sick, so I did everything I could to mitigate the feeling. I ate a big breakfast, I brought a pillow and a blanket, and I traveled in clothes that didn’t make me feel too constricted.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said. “We do have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon. You’ll have plenty of time to change and get ready in the suite. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks,” I said. “What about the meetings for tomorrow?”

“Yes, we’ll have meetings Saturday as well. The meetings after that, if there are any, will be scheduled on a case-by-case basis. If things go well, we’ll be heading back after the weekend with another company underneath the umbrella of J&M.”

“Sounds exciting,” I said. “What would you like me to do?”

“Take notes. Minutes. Record it if you have to. I want as much of it as possible documented by a third party. I also want you to learn. Take in what you’re looking at. You’re about to see prime negotiating tactics by men who want nothing more than to get the best bang for their buck. They’ll be desperate, which means they’ll be ruthless. Commit everything you can to memory because it will all help you when you run your own company one day.”

“I can do that.”

The conversation fell silent just as my favorite song came on the radio. I raised up and cranked up the volume, testing the speaker system in the car before I laid back down. I wiggled my body to the beat, swirling my hips and bobbing my breasts, and the way Grant’s eyes kept flickering over to me made me salivate.

“Your dancing’s giving me some ideas,” he said as his hand reached over to settle on my thigh.

“And what kinds of ideas are those?” I asked.

“Well, if we don’t hit too much traffic, we should get to the suite you’ve booked us with enough time for a little private strip tease before we have to get ready to meet our prospective clients.”

“Then you better drive like hell, Mr. Jacobs.”

The engine of the SUV roared underneath us, and it pulled a giggle from between my lips. He began dodging in and out of traffic, zooming down the highway as we inched closer and closer to New Orleans. I’d never been there before, despite growing up this close to it my entire life, and I was excited to take in the city with Grant. I wasn’t sure how much personal time we would get with one another, but I was going to make the most of every second I was afforded.

And I’d do anything he wanted, just to get that time with him.

I felt his hand massaging my thigh, so I decided to level the playing field. While my hips still danced to the song, I reached my hand over and descended it onto his cock. I could feel how hard he was for me through his pants, his dick throbbing in my palm as I wrapped my hand around it.

Then, the fun and games began.

“Are you well-versed in dirty talk, Miss Marks?” he asked.

“Well, there wasn’t a class in college I could take, but I’d say I’m pretty good for someone who’s self-taught,” I said, giggling.

The chuckle that fell from his lips pooled warmth into my panties. His hand was slowly inching inward, massaging the thickness of my inner thigh as my legs parted wider for him. My breaths got deeper as his cock grew harder against my palm, and for a moment, I simply allowed myself a moment to revel in his touch.

“Regale me with your dirtiest fantasy, Miss Marks,” he said.

“Can you handle that type of steam while you’re driving, Mr. Jacobs?” I asked.

All of a sudden, his hand cracked down on my thigh. I gasped, jumping in shock as the painful waves ricocheted up my stomach. My tits puckered to painful peaks before his hand landed back down on the site of the assault. He began to massage the area as I felt my skin growing red, and I slowly panned my gaze up to him to find his stern eyes focused on the road.

“I gave you a command, Miss Marks,” he said.

I honestly wasn’t sure which one to talk about. “Dirtiest” meant different things to different people. I guessed this was his way of figuring out what I really thought was dirty, or maybe this was him trying to get ideas. I didn’t really know, but as my eyes slowly turned back out to the road, I felt his hand slip closer to my wet pussy.

And that was when the inspiration hit me.

“Well, there was one I kept having in high school that starred a particular man I couldn’t keep my eyes off of back then,” I said. “He was tall, dark, handsome, rich as fuck, so I knew he could take care of me. I had this idea of being hired by him to clean his house. I’d come in on the weekends when he wasn’t working and do things like clean his dishes and make his bed, and after I was all hot and sweating, I’d start scrubbing his floors.”

“Go on,” he said.

“Then suddenly, I’d be in a short skirt and a see-through top. My tits would be pressing against a shirt that was a bit too small for me, and I’d be situated over a bucket of warm, soapy water as I started scrubbing his floors. He’d stand over me, showing me all the spots I missed. I’d try to fix it, but it wouldn’t be very good, and he’d grow frustrated with me.”

His cock jumped underneath my palm, and I smirked as I turned my gaze back to him. His eyes were hard on the highway as his fingertips inched closer to my pussy, and I sighed at his touch before I continued my story.

“Then, after he was frustrated with my inability to properly clean his floors, he’d rip me up off the floor and bend me over his knee. His thighs were so strong and meaty, and his warm hands would trail up the backs of my thighs. He’d flip up my pathetic excuse for a skirt, revealing my silken fluids dripping down my thighs. Then he’d spank my naked ass, over and over and over again until it was the shade of red he wanted to see the most.”

I pressed my hand deep into his cock and listened to Grant groan. His hand finally cupped my pussy, allowing me a bit of friction as I ground down against his hand. My eyes raked over the man of my fantasy, his hand only having punished me moments before. I wanted him to do it more. I wanted to crawl into his lap and feel his hand crack against my body again.

“Keep going,” he commanded.

“After he would be done spanking me, he’d peel me off his knee and fuck me right there on the kitchen floor, all bubbles and suds gathering around us as he fucked me all across his floor, cleaning it the way he wanted while spreading my scent everywhere he needed it.”

“You seem to have a thing for authority figures,” he said.

I was panting as his hand slowly massaged my pussy. I felt a wet spot growing underneath my hand on his pants as his eyes flickered down to me, and as I raised my eyes to his and caught his gaze, I was suddenly that high school girl again, drooling over my dad’s best friend as I watched them laugh at the kitchen table. If Grant only knew the scenarios I’d had him in during my dreams. The places I’d envisioned us traveling to. The nasty things he uttered to me in my ear at night. This man, with his hand against my pussy and his cock against my skin, had pervaded every fantasy I’d had until I hit college.

Then he became the measuring stick I didn’t realize I used with every encounter I had with a boy in college.

He had soaked himself into my life without even realizing it, and I had to peel my gaze from him and look out the window so he couldn’t see the desperate tears lining my eyes.

“Especially your boss,” he said.

I giggled, trying to play off the fact that he’d caught me. I ground down into his hand again, my heels planting into the floorboard of the SUV as we rocketed down the road. I felt exposed again. Vulnerable. Raw. Underneath that damn microscope he kept bringing out.

“Well,” I said through my giggles, “at least you’re perceptive.”

He grinned as we continued to ride down the highway. Half an hour later, we pulled into the Sheraton French Quarter, and I could see our balcony. It overlooked Bourbon Street and sat right on the site of the Old French Opera. I wasn’t sure if Grant was into that kind of thing, but listening to opera was a hidden passion of mine I didn’t dare boast of.

We removed our hands quickly from one another as we parked the SUV. The porter came to us, helping us remove and carry our bags up to the luxurious suite I’d booked us. I took in the beauty of the suite while Grant dealt with the porter and tipped him. I slowly walked over to the glass double doors, throwing them open before I gasped at the view. The bustling of New Orleans was only feet below us as a table with beautiful wrought iron chairs provided a place to sit. I could hear a premier soprano singing out her beautiful notes from the Old French Opera across the street, and I closed my eyes to take it all in. I allowed the air of the city to swirl around me, filling my nostrils with the sweet decadence of its history. The notes wrapped my body in a warmth not unlike Grant’s arms, and soon, I felt his hands slip around my waist before he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“There’s just enough time for that dance,” he said.

I wanted to stay on this balcony. I wanted to drink in the beauty of the city and listen to the soprano’s last notes. I wanted to enjoy a glass of wine with him on this porch and simply watch people pass by. I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him as he pinned me against the balcony that separated us from the history that blanketed this entire town.

But the moment I turned around and caught his luscious stare, I realized I had no choice.

And I didn’t really want any when it came to him.

Suddenly, music came on in the room. I scanned the walls as he took my hand, leading me back into the room. I clocked the Bluetooth speakers stationed in a few corners that filled the room with a song probably playing from Grant’s phone, and I watched him sink down onto the velvety couch in the middle of the room as the wind poured in from the street.

“Dance for me, Miss Marks,” he said.

Then, my hips began to sway in happy obligation.