Executive Perks (6 page)

Man, considering he still had his pants on, he was dangerously close to going over the edge, fucking his fingers into her wet pussy and mirroring the motion with his hips, rubbing the length of his cock against her. She groaned, her legs spreading farther out to cradle him, and for a minute, he considered unzipping his trousers and dipping his cock into her right now.

An abrupt swerving of the vehicle reminded him where they were, and he thought better of it.

“Man, I want to fuck you,” he muttered, punctuating the thought with an even deeper thrust of his fingers, biting her nipple lightly through her shirt.

She came.

As easy as that.

She, who often had trouble making herself come when she took the time to bother to even try, and he had done it so quickly, so masterfully. Despite herself, she shuddered as the orgasm gripped her. He lifted his head to try to kiss her lips, but she twisted away, panting, and felt as much as heard his low laugh against her ear.

“Oh, you are so hot.”

Kissing her ear, her neck lightly, he withdrew his fingers and though her eyes were closed, she could feel him adjusting her underwear back into place, murmuring, “No thong, Virginia? I’m disappointed.” Even the utilitarian brush of his fingers against the cotton sent a jolt through her.

Then he laughed again, pulling her skirt down, and sat up. She heard some rustling. He was probably wiping his fingers on a tissue.

“Not here, though,” he said, sounding very matter of fact. “I’m as nostalgic as the next guy about making it in cars, but I need more room to explore this first time.”

She was stunned to hear him instruct the driver through the intercom to take them to his apartment. She felt as if the absence of his touch had switched something on, or off, in her seriously disordered brain. Or maybe it was just that she had gotten hers and her brain went back to functioning. She didn’t know.

She sat up too. She had just gotten through with telling the guy she wasn’t interested in him and she started to kiss him and then came apart right in his hands not two minutes later. What the hell was he supposed to think?

As he turned back to her, the corner of his mouth rose in a slight sexy smile, she moved out of his reach, terribly embarrassed. Winston didn’t let the distance she put between them discourage him. He merely used it as an opportunity to blatantly do what he had probably furtively been doing since he had first seen her—run his eyes in a frankly sexual assessment down her body, a body he had just beautifully, effortlessly, brought to a shattering orgasm.

“You are so hot,” he repeated, more to himself than to her, it seemed.

She didn’t know what to say to extricate herself from this suddenly humiliating situation. There were only two choices here. She was either going to allow herself to be turned into one of Aaron Winston’s casual hook-ups simply because he had proven himself as adept at seduction—well, making out, anyway—as his infuriating good looks suggested, or else she was going to have to blow him off again, which was seriously, and this time maybe understandably, going to piss him off.

Part of her wanted to pick Door Number One. But she wasn’t very good at casual relationships, actually at any relationships. And, standstill or no standstill, he still owned all that stock.

Well, there was no point in delaying it. “Look, I’m not going to bed with you,” she blurted out.

A number of expressions crossed his face before he responded.

Incomprehension. Surprise. And then wariness. “Did I miss something?”

What had happened between them just now hadn’t been one-sided by any means. He would stake his rather substantial and hard-won bedroom instincts against it. He hadn’t misread her or misinterpreted her or overstepped. Virginia’s shy, light kiss and then impassioned reciprocation of his own kisses and fevered writhing beneath him were what had driven him to shove her skirt up right there on the leather seat of the limousine and get her off, shielded behind the opaque tinted glass. And she had been eager to get off—on a hair trigger in fact. He could still feel the walls of her tight pussy squeezing his fingers as she came. She was so wet, she was lucky he’d still had the presence of mind to wait until they had more privacy to actually fuck her.

So what the hell was going on now?

“Tell your driver to pull over. I’ll get a cab.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is I let a little kiss go too far.”

To describe the hot foreplay they’d just engaged in—her pussy juice still lingering on his fingers despite that he’d politely wiped them off with a tissue—as a
little kiss
was quite an understatement. Her blouse was still damp from his mouth. Aaron laughed, leaning back against the plush leather and considered pouring himself a drink from the small portable oak bar in the corner. “I’d say we didn’t let it go far enough.”

“Well, I didn’t. Ask you, I mean.”

“No, you just
kissed
me. Oh, and let me finger-fuck you too, of course.”

“For God’s sake—”

“What? I’m just saying. I didn’t exactly see you pushing me away and we’re both a little too old to play at making out. You were turned on, and you got off. Fine. You’re welcome. But if you don’t mind me pointing out, I’m still turned on.”

Her eyes flicked down, apparently registering that the excellent tailoring of his pants still didn’t hide a rather obvious erection.

He didn’t mind her looking, but he’d rather she touched.

“So let’s go to my apartment.”

“No, let’s not,” she said tersely, her cheeks bright red. “This is not going to happen.”

He stared at her. Incredible.

She most definitely meant it—the stiff way she held herself, her back probably not even touching the back seat of the limousine, ensured it. There would certainly be no further kisses, or open legs, or anything else from Virginia Beckett tonight. But goddamn it, he was mystified by the whole thing. Not to mention, still turned on as hell.

“Fine. If you can’t wait until we get to my apartment, then I’m more than willing to fuck you right here. Is that what you really wanted after all? Do you have some fetish about doing it in cars or something?” A little harsher than he’d meant to be, but he wasn’t exactly feeling kindly toward Virginia Beckett right now.

“Fetish? You conceited jerk!”

“I think you covered that one last time.”

“Just because I won’t have sex in the car, I’m a pervert!”

“I told you we could wait until we got back to my apartment. You’re the one who wouldn’t.”

“Not because I
wanted
to have sex with you! Because I
didn’t
!”

“So you say. But you better work out that little writhing thing you do then and the moans, sweetheart. Because you’re sure as hell sending the wrong signals. Not to mention you were so wet—”

“You cannot possibly be this much of a jerk.”

Well, actually, right now he was feeling pretty jerky. As well as not exactly suave. What had been his plan for dinner again? Softening her up with seduction before he went for the jugular with her company.
Isn’t exactly working out, Winston.

Maybe he had dazzled her, he thought ironically, and carried a simple spontaneous kiss further than she had meant to go. Underneath that frosty exterior lurked a very passionate woman. Maybe she’d suppressed it too long and at the first jostling against a hard cock—and he admitted his cock had probably been hard even before she’d fallen in his lap—she just erupted.

Or maybe Virginia’s sudden change of heart was really due to an attack of guilt about a boyfriend in the picture who he didn’t know about. She had never answered his questions about that. She was just the kind of goody-two-shoes who wouldn’t even consider an affair under those circumstances. He glanced out the window at the depressing thought.

“Stop this car.” She pounded on the glass that separated them from the driver.

“All right, calm down.” He pulled her hands back from their pounding. “You don’t have to cause a scene.”

The condescendingly placating words seemed to calm Virginia instantly. Undoubtedly, she had never in her life been cast as the hysterical female.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “I kissed you and let you, ah, you know.”

You know?
Christ, what were they? In high school?

“I guess in your book that involves some promise to sleep with you.”

“Well, what was the point of it otherwise, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Maybe I was softening
you
up because I thought it would help
me
get my stock back.”

Now that was an interesting idea. Aaron watched the beautiful blonde with fresh skepticism.

So maybe she wasn’t shy or caught unawares or otherwise committed. Maybe she had her own agenda. Maybe she was just a hell of an actress trying to extract her business end by any means. It struck him as laughable that she had gone so quickly from accusing him of trying to seduce her for his own sordid business plans to evidently trying the same thing on him. Well he had never let a woman get the best of him in the boardroom or manipulate him in the bedroom. And he wasn’t going to break both rules in one fell swoop. Still, he appreciated being treated to that masterful performance, her arching her hips and moaning under him as she came. Maybe she wasn’t so much of a girl scout after all. If that was her game, though, she would certainly have to come through with more than a make-out session, however much it whet his appetite.

“You miscalculated, then, honey. Foreplay, no matter how good, doesn’t do much for me. Now an actual fuck, if it’s done very skillfully, would go a lot further. So just let me know when you’re willing to fuck me for the stock and maybe we can talk.” He leaned over to instruct his driver through the intercom to stop the car.

An abrupt slam on the brakes brought Virginia tumbling toward him again. He caught her, but then pushed her away. “I’m going to start thinking you mean it by the third or fourth time you do that.”

“Please! You probably tell your driver to slam on the brakes as some kind of sleazy trick to pitch women in your lap.”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t.” He pressed on the intercom again. “Jesus, Ralph, what’s the problem up there? We’d like to get there in one piece.”

“Sorry, Aaron,” Ralph responded. “Some clown keeps getting in my way.”

“Just slow down, then. We’re not in a hurry.”

“Speak for yourself,” she muttered.

The slam on the brakes this time didn’t hurl Virginia, who was in the process of fastening her seat belt, into him. With shock, he saw it was hurling her into the shatter-proof glass separating them from Ralph. And he couldn’t stop it.

Virginia thrust her hands out in self-defense at the last minute, lessening, but not quite preventing, the blow her head took from the gray glass, which thankfully did not break at the impact. The glass, that is. Her head felt as if it might have. She wasn’t sure if the crash she heard came from the Manhattan streets beyond their doors or from her own banged skull. She sucked in her breath and held one palm up to what was most certainly going to be a nasty lump, falling back against the seat.

She heard Winston swear, felt the car still swerving, and then they were at a dead stop, horns blaring all around them.

“Christ, I’m sorry about that, Virginia.” He leaned over her, gently tugging her hand away to lightly probe her head. “Let me feel. That’s going to hurt,” he observed.

“It does already.”

His long fingers moved to her chin, lifting her face up toward him, again with a surprising gentleness. “Let me see your pupils. No, don’t close your eyes or look away. I need to see if they’re dilated.”

Apparently satisfied that they weren’t, he released her chin, at the last second running the tips of his fingers along her cheek. She shivered, interpreting it as comfort, however he meant it. With horror, she realized she was on the verge of tears. Her head was pounding and she had never been very brave about pain. Forget about that “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” crap. Pain—not that in her pampered existence she’d ever had that much of it—always made her just want her mama, who was long dead. Ridiculous for a grown woman. She felt inexplicably alone. And scared for some reason. Maybe car crashes did that to a person. She’d never been in one.

She looked at Winston tentatively, her hand going back up to the bump on her head, her lower lip quivering.

“Poor baby,” he murmured, looking down at her.

It was just the right thing to say. Not because it was sympathetic, which it undoubtedly was. If someone else—one of her sisters, for example—had been the one to offer those words at this moment, the sympathy of it would’ve made her burst out in tears. But with this corporate raider, it brought her back to herself. Or to her hard-as-nails CEO self anyway.

Yes, just the right thing to say, though probably not for the reason he thought.

She dropped her hand and sat up straight, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through her temple.

“I’m fine,” she said briskly.

He looked at her tentatively and then nodded. “Okay. You should still get yourself checked out by a doctor.”

Even the soundproof limousine couldn’t keep out the uproar of the crowd surrounding the car. She wondered what damage the accident had done other than to her own too-soft head.

Winston must have been thinking the same thing, as he surveyed the scene of onlookers outside the window.

“Listen, about what we were…ah,” he sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, “discussing before all this.”