Dirty Business: Fantasies Unleashed 1 Read online

  The man’s eyes sparkled in the light cast from gleaming wall sconces, and she drew in a long breath, enjoying her view of this handsome man with piercing blue eyes that were almost out of place with his dark hair and tanned skin. His jaw was squared, giving him the look of an athlete or lumberjack, but there was intelligence in his eyes. She didn’t remember his photograph from the portfolio, but she’d only skimmed.

  “I love your eyes,” he said. “Such a deep brown.”

  “Really?” She cocked up one eyebrow. “Is that the best you can do?”

  He laughed, and it was a deep belly laugh—genuine. “You don’t take any crap, do you?”

  She tugged on the loose end of his bow tie, untying the knot. “No, I don’t.” She looked directly into his eyes and, even with him bending down, even with her shoe-enhanced height, he was so much taller. And so sexy. How many years had it been since she’d looked so into a man’s eyes with nothing but sex on her mind? Without business, or donations, or the usual power struggles?

  Heat raced through her that built in her chest and quickly spread in all directions. This man was sex on a stick, yet not how she’d expected a sex worker to be. He seemed self-assured, not at all cheesy, and while he didn’t fit in with the crowd back in the ballroom, he stood out in a good way. He was more real and natural than any of those posers fighting to climb up various ladders.

  She stepped back into her other shoe, but her heel didn’t slide in.

  “Let me.” He went down on his knee and took her shoe in one hand, her calf in the other. Looking up and into her eyes, he skillfully eased her foot into the shoe. His hand, hot and hard, rested on her skin longer than was needed, and she didn’t try to hide how that made her feel. She licked her lips as heat tingled up from his hand to land straight in her sex.

  Seeming to understand what she wanted—either because of her expression, or more likely because he was good at his job—he stayed on one knee and assuredly slid his hand up her leg. He moved slowly, his palm cupping the back of her calf, his thumb brushing with just the right amount of pressure over her shin. Reaching her knee, his fingers stroked to send vibrations tracing up her thigh to scald her insides.

  Her cheeks flamed to match the fire in her sex, and she looked around to make sure they were still alone. A big part of her fantasy was keeping her sexcapades secret, an inside joke she’d hold over everyone who’d be hearing her speak. She relished the idea of fooling everyone who’d be sucking up to the ‘Ice Queen’ over the course of the conference.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he rose, wrapped his arm solidly around her waist and guided her toward the service door.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her along the hallway, filled with metal racks and other hotel equipment, walking so quickly she almost had to run.

  He opened a door. “In here.” He pulled her into the dark space, illuminated only by a tiny red emergency light.

  Pressing her back against the closed door, he captured her mouth in a ravenous kiss. His lips tasted of champagne and something salty, and then her sense of taste was overridden by the physical sensations from his tongue and his lips. His large hands held her head where he wanted, demanding that her mouth be exactly where his lips and tongue and teeth commanded.

  She arched against him, the bulge in his pants hitting her mid-belly, and he groaned as he pulled back from her lips.

  “You are so hot,” he said.

  “You, too.” And so far he was good at his job. But saying that out loud would ruin the illusion, so instead of talking she arched again, rubbing her body against his arousal.

  Grabbing her, he turned her abruptly. She raised her arms and braced herself against the door as his hands roamed the sides of her body, squeezed her ass, and then rose to cup her small breasts. He pinched her hardened nipples as he pressed his lips against her neck, then his teeth.

  Her breath caught. He’d better not leave a mark.

  On second thought, she didn’t care. She could wear high-necked suits for the rest of the conference. Or scarves. Hiding bite marks and hickeys might add to the thrill. More evidence of her non-Ice-Queen status filed away from view.

  He pulled down the zipper at the back of her dress, and the lights went on. Startled, she tried to turn, but he held her in place. One hand was on her belly, the other between her shoulder blades.

  “Lights on.” His voice was husky and deep. “I want to see you.”

  She relaxed and let him draw down her strapless dress, revealing a magenta bra and thong panties that belied the conservative cut of the black silk garment that had covered them. She almost wished she’d worn stockings, the kind with a garter, but who had those anymore? Besides, it was better that her legs were bared to his touch.

  He kept at least one hand on her at all times as he helped her step out of the dress he then tossed onto what looked like a laundry cart. She was planning to object, or at least have him check that the bin wasn’t full of dirty tablecloths, but his hand reached around her body to grab solidly between her legs.

  Her head dropped back, striking his chest, and his other hand landed at her throat, holding it there, her pulse under his hand, while his other hand stroked, soft then hard, pushing against the thin satin of her panties. His touch drew forward to graze her clit, then teased back, making her so hot, so wet. She felt sure all the blood in her body had rushed to congregate under his hands at her throat and clit.

  Pressing her ass back, she grazed him, and he groaned deep in his chest. This didn’t feel like a performance at all, and she made a mental note to make sure he got a good tip. A thousand at least.

  But before she could fully register the thought, his hands were hard on her hips, and he was crouched, his lips pressed into the small of her back. His tongue circled and stroked her skin there, as his hands claimed her ass, caressing, kneading, and occasionally dipping to slide between her legs.

  “Fuck me,” she said without thinking. “Fuck me now.”

  She heard the tear of foil, then a zipper, and before she could take a full breath, his cock was pressed against her ass. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and his foot nudged her legs wider. He tugged her thin panties to the side and drove into her hard, lifting her onto her toes.

  She pushed back, wanting him deeper, wanting him to fill her, possess her.

  He grabbed the edge of her neck with one hand, while his other pressed low on her belly so hard it was like he hoped to feel the pressure of his cock from the outside as he glided in and out, stretching her, forcing himself even deeper.

  Just as she was getting used to the friction, the depth, the pace, he pulled out almost all the way. She pressed back, wanting more, as he pushed forward with a few shallow thrusts. Teasing her, his hand pressed down on her mound, tantalizingly close to her clit. His fingers were close, but not quite there, keeping her wanting more, so much more.

  Thrusting deeply again, he drove with such force she nearly fell forward, but she recovered, ready for the next and the next and the next, pressing her hips back to accept the force of his powerful drives.

  Close to her ear, his breath grew hot and fast and the sounds he made deep in his chest vibrated against her back, heightening the building sensations inside her. She was lost in the rhythm, lost in the pleasure, in the sheer decadence of the act. This was bliss, and she never wanted it to end.

  But his cock left her without warning. Lifting her, he turned her around and pressed her back against the door. The color of his eyes seemed to have darkened to the color of twilight and he touched his forehead to hers, panting. She was panting too.

  In one fluid movement, he tucked his hands under her thighs and lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, spreading her. He penetrated again, holding himself deep inside her for several beats, then pulling out most of the way. Moving one hand to the wall for support, he thrust slowly, sliding in and out of her one luxurious inch at a time.

  His face was strained as if he
were holding himself back. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “Who are you?”

  Before she could reply, his pace quickened. He drove into her so fast and so hard that she sensed he’d lost all control, that he couldn’t stop or slow down even if he wanted, even if she asked, even if she screamed. Never had she felt so taken, so captured, so wanted—not because of who she was, or what money she had, but because she was sexy, because his eyes and hands liked her body, because his cock liked her cunt.

  As he drove faster and higher, each stroke hit hard and deep, and with each strike, the edge of her panties rubbed her clit, radiating pleasure that spread from his cock, up through her belly and chest to her throat and her face, until she was engulfed in what she was feeling, every part of her under the thrall of the contact between cock and cunt.

  She exploded, her insides convulsing around his aggressive strokes, and all she could do was shudder against him. His back flexed and tensed, and he raised his head to look into her eyes. Veins rose on his face, and his tanned skin turned red, like every ounce of blood in his body had just rushed from his cock to his face. He came with a shouted curse so loud she was sure a hundred members of the hotel security staff would come running.

  With a deep rush of breath he collapsed forward, holding her, protecting her head from the wall and helping her slide her feet from around his back to the floor. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he slid his hands down to gently caress her sensitive breasts through her thin lace bra.

  “That was amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing. Spend the night with me?”

  She stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, now damp with sweat. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

  “Fuck necessary,” he said. “I want to hold you. I want to get to know you. And . . . if you give me some time to recover, I want to fuck you again.”

  “Not tonight.” She stepped out from under his arm and reached for her dress. “I need to get back to the reception.” Evan would be looking for her. If she didn’t show up soon, he’d call out the cavalry, and if she were discovered like this, undressed, her juices slick on her thighs, her hair and makeup—

  She grabbed her clutch from the floor and glanced into her mirror.

  Not as bad as she’d thought. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, but nothing a little powder and lipstick wouldn’t fix.

  He helped her zip up her dress, then rested his hands on her shoulders. “If not tonight, then when? What’s your name? How do I get in touch with you?”

  His act was impeccable. A true professional. She’d make sure that Eleanor knew.

  “You seem like a resourceful man,” she said as he did up his fly. “If you want to see me again, I expect you can find me.”

  While he was still fumbling with his bow tie, she slipped out the door and ran down the hall, feeling on fire, feeling dirty and sexy—feeling fantastic—as if she had the best secret to hold over everyone else in that boring cocktail party. Not to mention everyone who’d hear her keynote tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  Still buzzing, feeling sexy and powerful for all the right reasons, Vicky kicked off her pumps the second she entered her suite. The marble tiles of the foyer were cool, soothing. After returning to the party, she’d allowed herself a rare second glass of champagne and she felt slightly tipsy, high on the alcohol—and the sex. She didn’t even know the man’s name, didn’t care.

  And it was only night one. The Fantasies Unleashed experience had already exceeded her expectations. Money very well spent. She could never risk an encounter like that with a man who was actually attending the conference. And no man attending the conference would risk that kind of sex with her. He’d be too worried that his sexual attention or aggression would affect his business dealings with her company or her foundation.

  She passed by the huge bouquet of peach and cream roses on the foyer table and inhaled the sweet scent, closing her eyes in pleasure. A bath. That’s what she needed. Walking through the master bedroom, she noticed a small package resting against the red velvet throw pillows adorning the oversized and overstuffed king bed. It was still sealed.

  Evan typically opened her mail, leaving anything that needed her attention on her desk, or in the case of this hotel, on the monstrous dining room table. Even if this was something for her eyes only, it was odd that he’d placed it on her bed. An intrusion too far. Evan always held a second key to every hotel room she stayed in, and to all of her residences, but he knew that the master bedroom and bathroom were off limits. She considered picking up the phone to scold him, but thought the better of it. Why let anything kill her buzz?

  Curious, she plopped down on the bed, stretched out and sank into the soft pillow-top mattress and down comforter. The packet was marked only with her name and a stamp reading Highly Confidential.

  She tore open the top, turned onto her side and dumped the contents onto the white duvet cover to expose three sealed plastic packages and a crisp folded notecard. Linen stationery. She opened the note.

  Victoria, Please wear these items—all of them—to your keynote tomorrow. I want you hot and wet and ready for my cock when you’re finished.

  It wasn’t signed. She opened the smallest of the packets and it contained a tiny earpiece, the kind that would stay completely concealed, even if she wore her hair up. She set it in her ear and could barely feel it. It was equally easy to take out, so she could remove it if someone used it to distract her while she was speaking.

  And having a sexy voice in her ear tomorrow? That could be interesting. Or perhaps her fantasy facilitator was planning to use it to tell her where they’d next meet. All good. All inventive. Eleanor was right about the element of surprise. It made her fantasy more exciting.

  She opened the biggest package and gasped as she drew herself up to sit on the bed. It was like a thong, but with no fabric, only black elastic straps and a small plastic and silicon contraption that, if she were right, would be positioned right over her clit once the thong was on.

  Unwilling to wait for the morning, she removed her underwear, still damp from the sex, and tried on the thong. She adjusted it so that the small vibrator rested over her clit. How did this thing turn on? She looked in the package to see whether she’d missed anything, and then checked the thong to look for a button, finding none. What use was a vibrator with no ‘on’ button? Maybe the last packet contained a remote.

  She tore open the last packet but instead found a thick, bullet-style vibrator with a string. Lying back, she pushed it inside her, the string hanging out. Again, there was no ‘on’ button, no remote, and once the device was inside, she couldn’t feel it. She tugged on the string and pushed the vibrator in and out in a few times, but it was no use. It was a sorry replacement for the real live cock she’d had inside her an hour ago.

  Pulling it out, she lay back again and picked up her underwear. The fabric was damp, and she imagined her secret man’s cock rubbing against the fabric as he rammed himself into her. Heat radiated inside her again.

  If her wearing the vibrators and an earpiece was his game for tomorrow, she was more than willing to play.

  ***

  The next day, Vicky stood in the darkened wing of the huge stage set up in the hotel’s main ballroom as the attendees were finishing lunch. She ran her hand down the heavy black fabric of the curtains that cordoned off the sides of the stage. The conference chair was making a boring speech about his group’s strategic plan and making way-too-obvious pleas for donations. He was supposed to be giving her a quick introduction, but at this rate the audience would be asleep before she stepped up to the mic.

  She shifted, and the vibrator pressed delightfully into her flesh. It was barely past noon, but she was feeling excited, anticipating whatever sexual treats her man from Fantasies Unleashed had planned for the day.

  “Victoria.” A voice came through the small earbud, and she raised her hand to her ear. “I trust you are wearing the devices?”
r />   She glanced around, hoping to figure out where the voice was coming from, but had no way of knowing.

  “Here’s a small taste.” The vibrator over her clit buzzed. The sensation was so strong, so unexpected, she practically doubled forward. Then the bullet inside her buzzed, too. Just a short pulse, but strong.

  “Get used to it,” the deep voice said. “I want you hot and wet. Ready for my cock. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your name.”

  Her cheeks felt flushed and she fanned herself lightly, wanting her keynote to be over and done with so she could have that man’s luscious rod inside her again. His voice sounded different through the earpiece, but when she closed her eyes she could see his face, his hands, his body. She could imagine his cock as she tightened around the bullet inside her, pulsing against it and raising her arousal.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Victoria Adams.” The speaker’s voice dragged her from the euphoria of sexual anticipation. She straightened her skirt, and the vibrator inside her started again with steady buzz, just enough to make her aware of its presence. Expecting it to stop, she waited a few seconds, but when it didn’t she took a long breath and strode to the podium, vibrations humming inside her.

  The applause rose as she stepped onto the platform that she always requested to combat her height.

  “Thank you,” she said into the microphone. “You’re too kind.” The clit vibrator buzzed. Her pelvis convulsed but she kept her composure. Her image was projected onto several screens, positioned beside her and at various other places around the huge room. She glanced at the image as the clit vibrator zapped her again.

  “You’re mine,” the voice in her ear said. “I control you.”

  She smiled at her ability to hide her reaction. This—this was exactly what she’d wanted. No one in the audience could guess what was going on, not by her expression or her demeanor, and with a quick glance at the teleprompter, mostly to ensure it was working, she began her speech.

  The man remained silent as she spoke, but the vibrator inside her continued to buzz, its intensity rising and falling, teasing her, and her internal muscles massaged it right back. The bullet was a constant reminder, a constant promise of what was to come, but she easily maintained her concentration through its undulating vibrations.