Working Girl Volume One Page 5

  “She’s not around?” He asked quietly.

  “No, she died when I was fourteen. Cancer.” I chewed on the side of my mouth. I wasn’t going to lose it in front of him, not tonight.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

  “It’s ok,” I replied and took a deep breath. “Thank you for the flowers.” I set them down on the table by the door; I would put them in water later.

  “It’s the least I could do.” He looked me over again. “Were you in the bathtub?”

  “I was,” I replied softly. I wanted to be mad at him and tell him to leave, but I was touched by his gesture and the electricity in the air between us had me on edge.

  “I see.” He reached up and brushed my cheek with back of his knuckles. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Violet. I think about you and your sexy body constantly. I’ve had to jack off like a fourteen year old boy just so I could concentrate on anything but wanting to fuck you.”

  Deacon was a good-looking, successful man. He could snap his fingers and have women lined up to sleep with him. The thought of him touching himself and thinking of me made my nipples ache.

  He walked toward me, and I backed up until I was against the small wall in my entry way. I wanted to tell him to leave, that he had no right barging into my apartment in the middle of the night. I didn’t even know how he knew where I lived, but I figured out by now that he was a resourceful man who had his ways when he wanted something.

  He had me trapped with his body, the heat radiating off of him. I was painfully aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but a robe while I stood there.

  He lifted my chin with his finger, his dark eyes searing mine. He glanced down to my chest. “I think you’ve been feeling the same way.”

  He reached down and undid my robe, letting it fall open. He drew in a sharp breath. “I hated the thought of another man touching you and fucking you.” He moved his leg between mine, the rough material of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs.

  “Tell me, Violet,” he growled, his finger trailing between my breasts, down my stomach, and stopping right above the apex of my thighs. “Did you think about me while that guy was fucking you?”

  I didn’t answer and his other hand came up behind me. He threaded his hand in the hair at the base of my head and pulled my head back so I was looking up at him. “You did, didn’t you? When he was licking your pussy, you imagined it was me.” I gasped when he shoved two fingers into my pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against mine for a second before looking at me. “While his dick was inside you, you wished it was mine. The whole time you were in bed with him, you thought about me.” He yanked my hair a little harder, making me wince. “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, but when he was touching me, I couldn’t lie.

  “Good girl,” he replied with a smile and let go of my head. He slid his fingers in and out of me, pressing his thumb on my swollen clit, circling it. “Did he make you come like I do?” He moved his fingers faster and harder, causing me to grind my hips against him.

  “No,” I replied before a slight moan came from my lips. It wasn’t going to take me long to climax tonight; I had been on edge since leaving Steven’s. Hell, I had been on edge since I woke up ready to fuck Deacon again only to find him missing.

  “Good,” he said, pinching my clit between his fingers. “Come for me, Violet.” His words sent me spiraling. My head fell back against the wall as I rode out my climax on his fingers. If he hadn’t been holding me up with his body, my trembling knees would have given way.

  When my orgasm finally subsided, I opened my eyes to find him grinning in front of me. “Damn, you are sexy when you come.” He pulled his fingers from me and brought them to his lips. I shivered slightly when he put them in his mouth and sucked them clean. “And you taste fucking amazing,” he said when he popped them out.

  “I want to fuck you now,” he said, putting his hands on the wall on either side of me. “I want to fuck you so bad it hurts.” I glanced down at the outline of his erection in his jeans. “But I’m going to wait until the weekend. I’ll go home and jack off to the memory of the way you just came all over my hand.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment. I had been hoping he would open his jeans and take me there against the wall. I needed to feel him fill me like he did the other night. I wanted him to make the ache that was between my legs since go away.

  “I’ll let you get back to your bath,” he said and pushed himself up and away from me. “I just wanted to say sorry for being an asshole tonight.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Watch for details about next weekend. And get lots of rest this week. You’re going to need it.”

  I watched as he turned and left my apartment without another word. I closed my robe and went into the kitchen, feeling the stickiness between my thighs from my earlier release. I went for the wine and changed my mind; I needed something stronger. I got some whiskey from the cupboard and a glass. I poured myself a drink and looked at the tulips Deacon brought me.

  I shook my head to myself; I couldn’t figure this man out. He was gorgeous, sexy, and successful. He could probably have any woman he wanted, yet he used escorts. Knowing what I did, he still got jealous seeing me with another man. Something also told me he wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no’ and was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

  He infuriated me with one breath and turned my insides to liquid in the other. I wanted to slap him and fuck him. Other than the history of his father and Leslie, I knew little about him. Maybe spending next weekend with him would give me a little more insight into who this mysterious man was.

  I downed the rest of my whiskey and went back to the bathroom. I took a long, hot shower, imagining Deacon’s hands on me as I soaped up my body. I eventually stumbled into bed, exhausted from one of the longest weekends I’d had in a long time. I wasn’t planning on getting out of bed all day Sunday. After all, he did tell me to get rest up.

  Chapter Eight ~ Deacon

  This was going to be the longest week ever.

  Violet’s place wasn’t too far from mine, so I decided to walk home. Maybe the cool night air would calm the fire that was burning in me. That woman was so damn sexy and got me going like no ever had before. I brought my hand up to my nose, breathing in her scent that still lingered on the fingers I had inside her.

  My cock had been so hard, I probably could break through granite with it. She was ready for me to take her right there by the front door, but I didn’t. I exercised the last bit of control I had deep inside me and walked out.

  Damn if I wasn’t regretting it now. Going home and jacking off was in no way the same as being buried deep inside her and I would probably explode if I tried to wait until the weekend. For a brief moment I thought about calling Leslie for another one of her girls, but decided against it. No one would compare to her anyway. I was a patient man; I could wait.

  I smiled to myself, remembering the fire in Violet’s eyes when I asked her about fucking the other man. I could see the conflict in her eyes; she probably wanted to slap me for asking such questions but it was hard to think when she was riding my fingers. It didn’t matter what she said, it was obvious her body wanted me by the way it responded to my touch.

  I arrived home and went up to my room. I passed out on my bed as the sun was starting to come up, totally exhausted. I was going to throw myself into work this week to get Violet off of my mind.

  It seemed like I had only closed my eyes when I felt someone tugging on my arm.

  “Wake up!”

  I moaned and shook my head. It was pounding from all of the liquor the night before and I wasn’t ready to get out of bed.

  “You promised you would take me to the park today.”

  I opened one eye and saw the mini version of myself dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, stan
ding in front of me with his arms crossed across his chest.

  I threw my arm over my eyes with a groan. “I did, didn’t I?” I mumbled. “I need some coffee.”

  “Charles has some waiting for you,” he said, hopping up on the bed by me.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled. “Dad, get up!”

  I laughed and winced as I sat up. “Ok, Shane, I’m getting up.”

  “Yay!” He threw himself in my arms and I hugged him tight. Shane was the best cure for a hangover.

  “Why don’t you get some breakfast while I shower and I’ll be right down?” I let him go and messed up the blonde hair top of his head – hair the exact color of his mother’s.

  “Ok, but hurry, Dad,” he agreed and ran out of my room.

  I smiled and chuckled a little. My life was crazy and I spent most of my time working, but Sundays were reserved for my son, Shane. He was six years old and the most important thing in my life.

  He was also a big reason I was afraid to fall in love again. His mother was a casualty of my work; she was killed five years ago and Shane doesn’t even remember her. He looked exactly like her though and was a walking reminder of her. Sometimes I have to look away from him because the memory of her was too painful.

  Shane had finally moved to Chicago last week now that I was settled into a place. I almost left him back in England with some family, but I missed him too much. I liked having him where I could keep an eye on him as well. I worried too much when he was a whole ocean away. He was never left alone and had only the best care. In fact, tomorrow he was starting school at one of the best private schools in Chicago.

  Originally I wanted to have him homeschooled, but that’s not what his mother would have wanted. Charles also talked me into giving all of the schools in the area a look. He convinced me he needed to get out and play with other kids his own age instead of being stuck at home with grownups all day.

  I had done extensive research, finding one of the most secure private schools in one of the suburbs of Chicago. It was a longer drive, but they had a top notch security system. From what I learned, the students ranged from politicians’ children to the children of ‘questionable’ people in society.

  I would take him to school tomorrow, but after that, Charles or someone else from my security staff would do that. I had visited it various times already, but I wanted to be there for the first drop off and observe. I took Shane’s safety very seriously.

  I finished my shower, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt. I put on my tennis shoes and baseball hat before heading down to spend the day with my boy. There would be no obsessing over Violet. Today Shane had my undivided attention.

  Monday morning Charles and I drove Shane to his new school. I sat in the back of the car with him and his new Spiderman backpack. He was obsessed with Spiderman and super heroes in general. He was always asking me if I was a superhero. I would shake my head and laugh in response, but it felt good to know my son thought that highly of me. I remembered thinking the same thing about my father when I was little; in my eyes, he could do anything.

  “Are you nervous about today, buddy?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he shrugged.

  He was so laid back and took all the changes in his life in stride. His mother would be so proud of the little man he had become.

  I thought back to the day she took the pregnancy test. She had been so excited to have a baby. I had wanted to wait a few years after we were married before getting pregnant, but it seemed as though someone had other plans for us. We were only married a month before she found out she was pregnant. When we found out we were having a boy, she was ecstatic. She would always tell me she couldn’t wait to have a mini version of me running around.

  I swallowed, pushing thoughts of her from my mind.

  “That’s good,” I said, looking out the window so he couldn’t see the emotion on my face when I thought about his mother.

  He rarely asked about her. He had only ever known life with only two of us, so he didn’t think of anything different. Sometimes after being with other kids, he might ask a question or two about her. He had a book by his bed with pictures but I wasn’t sure how often he looked at it.

  “If you need anything, you call the number on the phone in your backpack. Bruno will also be there all day.” I nodded to the man in the front seat next to Charles. Body guards were common place at this school, so he wouldn’t be out of place.

  “I will,” he nodded, patting his backpack. “I’m sure it will be fine, Dad. You worry a lot.”

  Charles caught my eye in the rear view mirror and smirked at me. He was always telling me the same thing. I narrowed my eyes at him in a warning; I didn’t need the two of them ganging up on me this morning. I was already nervous enough about sending Shane off to a new school.

  We arrived at the private school far out in the suburbs of Chicago. Charles parked the car. “I’ll wait here.”

  I nodded and we got out of the car. Bruno followed close behind as I took Shane’s small hand in mine and walked towards the building. I had flashbacks to the day I got the phone call that his mother had been shot outside of our home. She had thrown herself on top of Shane to protect him from the guns that were firing at them. He escaped with barely a scratch, but she wasn’t so lucky.

  I took a deep breath, pushing the anxiety aside as we entered the building. We went to the front office to find out where his room was.

  “Ok, you have Miss Jones,” I said when we left the office. I still holding his hand and had a piece of paper in the other. “Her room is supposed to be down this hall.” We walked slowly down the hallway together, looking at the names on the doors. I finally found one with the name ‘Miss Jones’ on the door. “Here we are!”

  We went into the room. A woman who I assumed was Miss Jones was talking to another parent, her back to us. She had long blonde hair that hung to the middle of her back. She had on a white blouse and I could see the outline of her bra and cami through it. My gaze traveled further down her body, appreciated her tight ass in her black pencil skirt. Teachers sure looked a lot different than they did when I was a kid.

  The other parent finished talking to her and nodded hello as they walked by me. I reached out to touch her arm to get her attention. “Are you Miss Jones? My son is new in your class.”

  “Yes, I’m Miss Jones. Who do we have here?” She asked as she turned around and smiled down at Shane.

  My jaw dropped when I saw her. She was wearing glasses, but there was no mistaking those green eyes or that body. It was Violet, the escort who consumed my every thought.

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  The End

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  Read more in Working Girl Volume 2, available here: Working Girl Volume 2

  About the Author

  Sammi lives in the Midwest with her own book boyfriend and two daughters. When she's not reading or concocting steamy stories, she loves hiking, camping, and watching her girls play basketball.

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