Indigo Nights: A Sexy, Contemporary Romance (15 page)

“I stand by my decision.” He leaned back in the chair. He must have read some shitty management book that told him going toe to toe with his boss was a good idea. He should ask for a refund from Amazon.

“I understand,” I said. I stood and walked around my desk, toward the door.

Ted followed me, giving me a smug grin. I took his hand and shook it. “Thanks for coming in. You’re fired.” I opened the door to the outer office where my assistant sat. “Marie, Ted needs his exit paperwork. Can you arrange that please?” I’d warned Marie so she’d have everything prepared; she’d take his pass and notify everyone back at Raine Media.

I didn’t glance at Ted’s face. I wasn’t interested. We were idiots for not spotting the problem sooner. I’d let the employees of Raine Media down by not realizing their boss was incompetent. Most of the time, I found, in business you just needed to hire good people and get out of their way. Somehow, we’d forgotten that. We needed to go back to basics.

I closed the door and went back to my desk. We’d almost written that business off. It felt good to have found the source of the problem, or one of them, at least. That familiar thrill of getting a decision right gripped me. I might have taken a second look at Raine Media because of Beth, but ultimately giving Raine Media another chance had been the right decision. Without knowing it, Beth had saved jobs, maybe even a company.

My cell vibrated against my desk. Beth and I had been texting for the last few days. She was fun and I found myself looking forward to hearing from her. She’d send me photographs of the desserts she’d made. I’d tell her all the different ways I wanted to make her come. I wanted to remind her what I could do to her, to convince her to see me again.

She’d sent me a picture of chocolate mousse in a martini glass, the caption reading
Where do you want it?
My dick jumped in my pants. It had recently become my favorite dessert. Fuck. That blow job should be recorded and distributed for women to use as instructions. The experience had been exceptional.

I typed out a response.

Dylan: Anywhere you care to put it.

Beth: You around on Thursday? I get in around lunchtime.

Part of me had thought that although she enjoyed our teasing over the phone, I’d never actually see her again. There was something about the way she’d said goodbye that’d made me think she’d gotten what she needed from me and wouldn’t be back. Maybe I’d been wrong.

Dylan: You got the TV thing?

Beth: They’re interested. I’m flying in to finalize details on Friday.

I grinned at my phone. I was looking forward to seeing her. I liked her smart mouth and perfect skin. I liked the way she talked to me, about anything I asked her, as if she hid nothing. It must have been why I’d ended up talking to her about Alicia. Her openness inspired the same in me.

I took a deep breath and jumped off a cliff as I typed.

Dylan: Do you want to stay at my place?

Having a woman share my space hadn’t happened in forever. I fucked women at my place, but they didn’t sleep, brush their teeth or unpack a bag. Ever. But it didn’t make much sense for Beth to have a hotel room when I planned on keeping her in bed every moment she wasn’t at WCIL TV. I wanted her to be comfortable with me. I wanted to show her I wasn’t hiding anything from her. I wanted her in my home.

She didn’t respond right away. I tried to distract myself, shrugging off my jacket and rolling up my sleeves, ready to deal with my inbox. Marie always flagged the emails I had to read, so if they weren’t marked red they got ignored.

I kept checking my phone but nothing. No response.

“Marie,” I called out.

She stuck her head into my office.

“Has he gone?” I asked.

“Yeah. A little shaken, but I got his pass and his phone and got Don to take him home.”

Marie was great at cleaning up after me.

“Thanks. Well done. Can you arrange for me to have a tour of WCIL? Tomorrow if possible. I think it would be good to show our face and reconfirm our commitment to them. For the short term, in any event.”

“No problem. Will Raf go?”

“You can ask him, but I doubt it.” My cell vibrated on the desk. “I have to get this.”

I waited until Marie shut the door before I tapped the code into my phone. I wanted to savor Beth’s reply.

Beth: Thanks, but I’ll stay at The Langham.

My stomach dropped. It wasn’t the response I’d been hoping for.

I slung my phone on my desk and went back to my email.

Marie had arranged for me to meet with the WCIL TV people at 8AM the next morning. I’d need to replace Ted quickly, and I didn’t know the team there as well as I should, so didn’t know if there were any internal candidates for the role. Raf had agreed I should do a bit of digging. I often found people on the ground knew what was needed to fix the problems in the company. Tomorrow was about finding answers, getting to the root of the problem.

I toed off my shoes and headed toward the refrigerator. My housekeeper always left me dinner if she knew I was going to be home.

I pulled out a beer from the top shelf. Did Beth mind people who drank around her? I put the bottle back and pulled out a pot of something with a Post-it on it marked “dinner.”

I took off the lid to find what looked like chicken. I wasn’t really hungry.

Just restless.

I took off my jacket and put it over the back of one of my dining room chairs, then headed through the arch to the living room. I emptied my keys, wallet and phone onto the table, stuck my feet up and fired up my laptop.

I launched YouTube and typed in
The Chicago Cake Maker
. I tapped my finger against the mouse until I could skip the ads. The opening titles were Beth’s greedy mouth in close-up taking a huge bite of cake.
Jesus
. I knew what else that mouth could do.

The titles cut to Beth standing in a kitchen, smiling into the camera. I grinned back at her. She was a beautiful girl. She was more than that; she was head-turningly stunning. On screen, her beauty was amplified; she was lit up, glowing. The camera loved her. My dick stirred.

I groaned. I should step away from the computer.

Nope, wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to watch her, just stare at her, unashamedly, without her or anyone else knowing.

She started lifting up different ingredients, showing the camera what she was going to be using. I realized I didn’t have the sound turned up. I tapped a few buttons, my eyes not leaving the screen. Her voice, huskier than I was used to, filled the room.

I could practically feel the blood rush to my dick. I placed my palm over my zipper in a half-hearted attempt to control my burgeoning hard-on, but it did anything but calm it. I groaned and pushed my hand down, growing harder with every movement.

Fuck me, two days before I saw her again, had her again, fucked her again, was beginning to feel like a lifetime.

She put some butter and sugar in a bowl and started to mix. The effort made her cleavage shake. I needed my dick between those tits. I took a deep breath.

The blood pounding against my ears made it difficult to focus on what she was saying, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the screen for a second. I stroked harder and harder, up and down the front of my pants.

Guilt echoed through me. Somehow it felt wrong to be taking pleasure from her when I wasn’t giving anything in return. I didn’t want to be selfish with her. I wanted to give more than take.

I removed my hand and paused the video. I reached for my phone, clicking on the picture I’d taken of her, naked, cross-legged and eating cake. The zipper began to bite into my erection.

Without thinking about consequences, I scrolled through my contacts.

“Hey.” She sounded breathy and sleepy, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad about waking her.

“Were you asleep?”
I want to kiss you.

“I’m in bed but not sleeping. Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I’ve just got in.”
I want to touch you.

“I was just thinking about you.” She yawned partway through her sentence. I was a selfish bastard calling her this late, but I couldn’t bring myself to end the call.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was wondering about Thursday.”

My hand went back to my still-hard cock. “Tell me.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you. I . . .”

I grinned at her confession. “You, what?”

“No, sorry. I didn’t mean . . . We’ll have fun. If you can make it. It’s no big deal if you have to cancel.”

She thought I’d give up a chance to fuck her, see her, touch her? “I guarantee I can make it. Do you want me to come to the hotel again?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked.

My balls tightened at the memory of her pressed up against the glass. I ran my fingertips up my cock.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Should I tell her?
“I’m looking at you on YouTube.” I seemed to lose my filter with her. I didn’t want to hold back.

“You are? Do you like it?” I could hear her smile in her voice.

“I’m about three minutes in and hard as steel.”

She inhaled. “Are you dressed? Are you . . .?”

She wanted to ask me whether I was masturbating and I wanted to tell her, but I understood her hesitation; it was an intimate question and it would be crossing a line. Hell, just calling her for no reason other than because I wanted to hear her voice was crossing a line.

“I’m dressed, but I wish you were here and we were naked.”

“Tell me what you’d do to me if I was there.”

I groaned and undid my pants. There was no way my dick was going to tolerate being ignored for a moment longer. “I’d strip you naked—”

“And you’d keep all your clothes on,” she finished my thought for me. “I like that.”

We liked the same things.

I circled my cock with my fingers and pushed down to my base, my dick jutting out in front of me. I squeezed and exhaled as I released. “Yeah.”

“I like your teeth, too.” She spoke as if she was half asleep, though I heard the rustle of sheets. “When you put them against my skin.”

I dragged my fist up the length of my cock, straining to speak. “I like your skin. It’s so smooth and yielding. I like to watch my fingers press into it.”

Her breaths came heavier. Was she . . .? I couldn’t stop myself from groaning. “I like that you’re always
so
wet. Tell me how that sweet pussy feels.” I pumped my hand up and down my length.

She moaned. “It’s so ready for you.”

Dew beaded on the end of my dick. I wished she were here, astride me, hovering above me, ready to fuck me. I closed my eyes and let my mind take over.

“And I like how you fill me so deep that it blocks out all my thoughts. I have to . . . let go.” Her words were jagged, verging on desperate.

My fist gathered pace. “I like your tits. They’re so full and—” I couldn’t finish my thought without coming and I didn’t want to get there first.

“Are you close?” Her voice rose at the end of her question. “I’m so close. Just thinking about you makes me so . . .”

“If I can’t feel you, let me hear you.” I was seconds away from falling over the edge.

Her breaths turned into moans, which turned into her calling my name over and over. If I thought it was possible to take a flight to London tonight, I’d have raced to the airport right then. The sight of her coming was a precious thing, and I didn’t want to be the chump that passed up any opportunity to revel in it.

She gasped, then fell silent. I was too far gone to hold back any more. “Beth, my sweet Beth,” I called as my body went rigid, my orgasm claiming me.

My hand and shirt were covered in come, but I couldn’t move. It was as if she’d stolen my energy. “Jesus, Beth.”

She gave a small laugh at the other end of the phone. “Did we really just do that? We hardly know each other.”

Even though I’d seen her less than a handful of times, we knew each other, better than the time we’d spent together would suggest. We had something—a connection.