Zach
Three glorious days in a row I’ve been blessed with sinking my dick into Jade. Yesterday, I knew Max was stuck with one of the designers overlooking the expansion, so I made my way back to his place and fucked Jade over the edge of her bed. She’s downright intoxicating, from her sexy slender frame to her damn moans. She’s always been a fun and fantastic fuck. A perfect fit for my aching cock. I crave to feel her, to hear her mewl for me, to see her writhe.
She’s my absolute completeness. She’s my perfection.
Which is why I need her to leave. It’s urgent that I get the hell away from her. Even after all these years of sneaking around, I can only handle so much before I need distance. It’s when she immerses my thoughts becoming the only thing I can think of. From the moment my eyes open to the time they close. An ache settles in my chest knowing I must walk away and detach myself emotionally. My senses need to recalibrate and once I do, these feelings will lie dormant, unrustled until she stirs them up again. That’s normally when other women play a handy role, but even then, it renders futile.
There’s no denying how I feel about her. Hell, I’ve told her before. After so long, I begin craving to feel her. I covet her mouth. Yearn for the looks in her eyes. Pine to see a glimpse of her quirky personality. It’s a vicious cycle, and no matter how long we’ve done this, it’s torture—a pleasurable torture. I know nothing will or could ever come from this, that no matter how much I feel for her, the ending is always right around the corner. And that thought always wrecks me. We’ll always remain a secret paramour because she’s my best friend’s little sister…
All day I’ve fought not to text her or call her to hear her voice. I’ve battled not to contact Max and nonchalantly find out where he is so I can sneak back over and have another rendezvous with her. I’ve kept myself busy—elbow fucking deep—in work with blueprints, prospects, and designs. I’ve even tucked my cell phone in the drawer of my desk just so I wouldn’t be tempted.
Papers are strewn across my desk. I’ve busted my ass since taking the CEO position of Calloway Developers. I’ve grown the business substantially with my appetite for success. My dad was a damn good businessman. He would come up with shit and improvise like no one’s business. He laid the foundation of the company, grew it, and made a reputation for it. And I built it from there. When he scooted over and let me in, the company exploded. I got my design niche and my smooth talking from my pops. Hell, I grew up watching the man handle things while he kept his shit collected. I never saw him mad, only intense. He wouldn’t raise his voice, only darkened his glare.
I listened intently and I learned. I grew into a man who could design Superman a new fucking cape.
Calloway Developers has been going strong for years, and I’m damn proud of it. I employ hundreds of people, responsible for sourcing and structuring anything from small houses to multimillion-dollar businesses. I’m sought out from across the country, working with counterparts from city planners to high-end engineers.
Smile, because I sure as hell am.
Valorie knocks on the door and I call her in. She’s a petite woman with the darkest black hair I’ve ever seen and the brightest brown eyes. She’s an older woman with the heart of a saint, keeps me straight, and takes no shit. She’s a perfect asset.
“Mr. Maliza called and had to cancel the meeting this afternoon. He had a family emergency.”
Sure…
“Did he reschedule?”
She frowns, shaking her head. “No.”
“I bet you that asshole, Bren, shoved his cockroach foot in the door after hearing we were discussing the project.”
“If it accounts for anything, he sounded sincere when he called.”
“Only time will tell,” I say.
“Max is on the phone for you now.”
I give her a smile. “Thank you.”
She disappears back out the door. Did I mention she’s a quiet woman? She keeps to herself, but trust me, you do not want to piss that woman off. She’s got a wicked side hidden underneath all that innocent look.
“Yes, sir?” I call out, answering the phone.
“I’ve been invited to Abbot’s Fundraiser in Pennsylvania this weekend. Feel like an all exclusive trip filled with elegant beauties and an endless pick of fine wine?”
I chuckle. “Easton’s taken. Jade must’ve turned down the invite. So I’m assuming I’m the last resort?”
“Nailed it,” he quips. “Jade took off earlier. Her work called needing her to go in tomorrow. I tried talking her into coming to work for me, but she declined it…again.”
The ache in my chest strangles my heart. Part of me wants to celebrate her departure. Do a little dancing jig that my mind can finally take a break and get my shit back straight. The other part of me…well, I’m pissed she didn’t bid me farewell and give me one last taste of her because who the hell knows when I’ll see her again. It could be six more months.
“The infamous Lauder hardheadedness strikes again.” I laugh. “You know she wants to do whatever it is she wants to do. Is she still claiming ignorance as the hiccup?”
“Wine-ron is her term. And yes. I offered her a hell of a salary with a free place to stay for however long she wants and I’d teach her everything. She said she’d think about it, but man, I know she’s already turned me down in her mind.”
Yeah. That’s Jade. Trying to make a path in life, one that she’s going to make on her own. “Maybe she will think about it this time. You never know with her.”
“One can only hope.”
Not this “one.” But if she takes the job, that plants her sexy ass right in my arm’s reach and I’m certain all hell will break loose. My feelings won’t have any time to lie dormant then.
“When’s the flight?” I ask, changing the subject before my mind twists it into something it shouldn’t.
“Friday morning.”
I pull my phone from the drawer and check my calendar. I have nothing scheduled except a meeting with Easton and it’s only for shits and giggles. “Count me in. I’ll be ready.”
I’ve always given back to the community. I’m not a selfish idiot—without them, yeah, I’d still have a job, but it wouldn’t be nearly what it is now. I’m a conceited sonofabitch, but I’m extremely grateful that I’m sought out and trusted.
Elegant beauties was a damn understatement. These women are staggering, gracefully shining confidence. I can smell their sexual insufficiencies lacing the air and this is where I come into play. My pockets are deep enough, my dick long and thick enough, and my expertise is just damn perfect. Upscale luxurious classy women are fabulous fucks. Confident in their own skin, they know what they want and have no problem demanding it. They beg to be manhandled during their one-night sexcapades. I’m one hundred percent down for that. I need to release my mind anyway. Incredible sex with no strings attached? I’d be a damned idiot to deny that.
A lay is a lay is a hope for a mind blowing lay.
Max grins as he gets pulled off onto the dance floor by a modelesque brunette leaving me to my drink alone by the edge of the room to scout for myself.
Seductive cat eyes hawk me down, projecting exactly what she’s after as she sashays her hour glass figure across the room and toward me. Her thick plump lips coquettishly quirk up. “I thought your friend would never leave,” she purrs, her accent thick and erotic.
I lick my lips and appreciate the body before me, allowing my eyes to roam. “Had I known you were waiting, I would’ve gotten rid of him earlier. I’m Zachary.”
Her gaze is on my lips. Mine on hers and damn the things I could do with them.
“Mia,” she says. “I’ve seen you around. This is your third Abbot’s, correct?”
I arch a brow taking a taste of my bourbon. “You’re either highly infatuated or obsessively interested.”
She drags her tongue over her teeth. “Both.” She drops her eyes to my dick.
Clear intention. I like that about a woman.
“Would you like a drink, Mia?” I ask, my tone charming.
“One before we get out of here and get better acquainted.”
She hooks her arm into mine and I lead us to the bar where she orders a martini.
As the bartender busies himself making it, Mia leans close. “Please tell me you’re not sharing a room with your friend.”
Cocksure, I smirk. “I’m not.”
She blinks up from under her lashes and nibbles on her plump bottom lip, her gaze eating me alive. “Good. I can be a little salacious with the right person.”
She reaches out and unashamedly grabs a handful of cock. I grab her hand, lifting it to place a kiss to it. “I assure you I’ll have you screaming my name.”
A pale line, one where the sun doesn’t hit, catches my attention. The line where her husband pronounced his love for her. I’m many things—a womanizer, a dog—but a home wrecker, I am not. In my extensive set of skills, an adulterer isn’t listed.
When I bend and place my mouth beside her ear, her breath snags with excitement. “Does your husband know what you’re doing?”
“He’s impotent,” she says casually. “He gives me permission to satisfy my needs elsewhere.” Her voice is low, trailing beside my ear.
Anger floats through my blood. “He may be okay with it, but I am not,” I say impassively and then take a solid step back.
Her long lashes flutter up to me and she laughs low and throaty. Any other time that laugh would have been a hell of a turn on and I would’ve kissed the hell out of her.
She drags the back of her fingers down my cheek and flashes a sweet smile. “With a reputation like yours, Mr. Calloway, you can’t tell me you’ve never made a married woman wish she’d married you instead.”
I love fucking, having different women, feeling different women, but I despise my reputation that comes along with it. Most the time it gets skewed—case in point.
I blow a chuckle from under my breath. “I’ve made many women wish they could marry me, but never a married woman. That’s a sacred line I won’t cross, or hell, even touch.” I rake my view over her body again. “As beautiful as you are, you’re pretty revolting. You should be at home with your husband, the man you vowed to love, and not out trying new things because you can’t control yourself.” I flash a smug grin. “Have a good night, Mia.”
And just like that, my friends, I walk away. I see this a lot—women out to fulfill whatever their marriage is lacking. I’m not saying men don’t do it, but I’m not out trying to pick up men either. Infidelity is wrong—despite the reasoning and regardless if you’re married or dating. The “thrilling high” you experience at the beginning of a fling can certainly nosedive into rock bottom guilt. As it should. And there’s the saying, “what comes around goes around.” I, for one, do not want to have the woman I choose to be with for the rest of my life out bagging random dudes.
I hate a cheater. Yeah, when I was younger, I did. I screwed up, but I’ve also grown up since then. I went from a strapping young man to a handsome man with morals and dignity. I know the importance of commitment, love, and all that other jazz.
I spot Max talking up a blonde bombshell and politely interrupt their conversation. “Sorry,” I tell blue eyes before continuing with Max. “I’m going to call it a night. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” I clap his shoulder and tip my head to his “friend.”
After making my way back to the hotel room and changing, I fall to the bed and start flipping channels on the big screen attached to the wall. Truth is, I don’t mind striking out. Sometimes it’s for the best, like tonight. I’m still trying to gain my bearings after having days of Jade. Every time she leaves, I’m left to rebuild my walls. And that motherfucker has been knocked down hundreds of times by her. You’d think by now I’d learn to keep it up…
You’ve thought wrong, my friends.