Final Call

Chapter Twenty-Three

I push the door to Aaron’s office open and look around it. He’s leaning forward on the desk, one hand in his hair, a phone to his ear.
“Every one, yes. Make it clear that, if they print it, we’ll be coming down on them with the force of a f*cking avalanche… Yes… Thank you, Alexander. Email them over tonight and I’ll take a look. Then we’ll send them out… Perfect. Goodnight.”
He puts the phone down and sighs heavily. He spins in the chair and slowly runs his eyes up my bare legs to the hem of his shirt skimming my thighs. After taking the rest of me in, they find my eyes. There’s none of the expected heat in them.
Just love.
“Come here,” he mutters, holding his arms out.
I cross the room and curl onto his lap, resting my head on his shoulder. His arms go around me securely, holding me against him, and he buries his face alongside mine.
“That didn’t sound good,” I whisper.
“There are several other presses who have the story. Naomi sold it to both paper and digital outlets, hoping we’d miss one. I believe she planned to have you exposed regardless of her receiving the money.”
I shiver. “What are you sending to them?”
“Lawsuits,” he mumbles into my neck, sweeping his lips across my skin. “They’re being warned of what will be handed to them if they publish the story. Alexander Carlisle Jr. is the best lawyer in Seattle. He’ll f*ck them so hard they won’t have a choice but to not run it.”
“Alexander Carlisle?”
Why does that sound familiar?
“Do you know him?”
I sit up and bite my lip. I know I do… But where? How? I gasp. “Oh shit.”
This could get awkward very quickly.
“Day?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before. Um.” I laugh nervously. “Do you remember that night you were outside my house? When you pinned me to the door and kissed the shit out of me?”
His lips twitch. “How can I forget?”
“Yes. Well. I had been to work that night, but I couldn’t do the job.”
“Why do I get the feeling I know where this is going?”
“He was hosting a function and your parents were there. I recognized your mom before I entered and apologized.” I smile sheepishly. “This is slightly awkward.”
Aaron stares at me for a long moment. “Amusing is what I’m thinking. More the fact Alexander had to hire someone to accompany him to his own function.”
“Oh yes. Imagine that. Having to hire someone to be your date.”
He grins and slides a hand up my back to cup my head and pull it forward. “Well, I’m very glad I hired you first. Otherwise, I may have had to kill him for you.”
“Protecting me, right?” I murmur against his lips.
“No. That’s me being a selfish bastard. Haven’t you noticed? I’m ruthless when it comes to something that belongs to me.”
“I’m a thing now, am I, Mr. Stone?” I stand and look down at him.
“Not a thing, no. You’re my thing.”
I fight my smile. “You really know how to romance a woman, you know that?”
“Romance, seduce. Is there a difference between the two?” He smirks. “You’ve never said so.”
“I made dinner. It’s probably cold by now though.”
“You cooked in my shirt and you didn’t tell me?” He stands and grabs me. He tugs me into his body. My breasts squash against the hardness of his chest, and I feel his erection press into my hip.
“You were on the phone, remember? Besides, I wasn’t aware I was required to tell you.”
“From now on, any time you wear my shirt, cooking or otherwise, you’re required to tell me. Especially if you’re naked beneath it, which seems to be your new uniform.”
“Is that an ironclad requirement?”
“Set in f*cking stone.” He smiles at his own words, kisses me softly, and drags me into the kitchen. “What did you cook me?”
“The usual. Food. Ouch!” I clap my hand over my butt cheek. “What was that for?”
“Your sass,” he grins. “That and I happen to enjoy smacking your ass.”
I’ve gathered that. I narrow my eyes at him. “I made steak.”
“You cooked me steak?”
“No, I cooked it for the security guys. Of course I cooked it for you.”
“She wears my shirt and she cooks me steak. Are you a dream?”
I laugh and put the plates in the oven to heat them through. “You’re a lucky bastard, Aaron Stone.”
He looks at me for a long moment, his lips slowly curving to one side, and reaches out for me. He runs his thumb along my jaw and leans down, his hot breath covering my lips.
“More than you know, Dayton Black. More than you know.”

***

“I’ve changed my mind.” I slide in opposite Tyler in the coffee shop. “I don’t think I want to model.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really? You’re a natural.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s for me. I’m not really comfortable in front of a camera, you know?”
And I’m not. The more I’ve thought about it, the more certain I am that I’m not model material. My age goes against me for one thing, and I’m done showing my body for money.
It might be a different context, but if this whole blackmail situation has taught me anything, it’s that only one man should ever see my body again. That man is Aaron.
“Yeah, I could tell, love. It’s something you would have gotten used to, but I get it.” Tyler pulls out a folder. “What are you going to do with these?”
I smile. “Keep them. Maybe I’d be better on the other side of the camera.”
“I doubt Aaron will rest until you’re working for him.”
“And I’m not making his ass coffee.” I grab the one Tyler holds out to me. “I do that every morning.” I pause. “Do you have to travel a lot? I mean, I really like the idea of being a photographer. It seems kind of fun.”
“It is.” He grins. “You don’t have to travel. I do because I choose to, but I think Aaron would have you doing domestic shoots more often than not.”
Good. I need to do something now. I need to feel like I’m doing more than cleaning the shower five times a day out of sheer boredom. And this… Photography…
I really enjoyed it in London, watching him shoot. Being on Tyler’s side of the camera was comfortable and enjoyable. I can see myself doing that more than being the one posing.
So it means I’d have to go back to school. I’ll be twenty-five tomorrow. Is that too old? No. I’m still young, and although it would take a couple of years to finish the classes, I’m guessing, it wouldn’t be too late.
“Hey, would you teach me some?” I smile sweetly at Tyler. “Please.”
“I have a shoot this afternoon. Want to come with?”
“Could I?” My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hang on.”
Come home. I have a surprise for you, is what the text from Aaron says.
“Looks like I’ll have to join you next time. Aaron wants me home.”
Tyler grins. “I know. The shoot was a bluff.”
Suspicion narrows my eyes. “What are you two planning?”
“I’m not planning anything. I’m merely the one talked into keeping you out of the way for his planning.”
A black car pulls up outside the coffee shop. “Is that mine?”
“Yep.” Another grin stretches across his face, and he leads me outside and opens the door. “Have fun. By the way, I’m flying back to London tomorrow. I’ll think about this photography thing and call you, okay?”
“Sure thing.” I sit back in the chair as the car pulls away.
Tyler waves through the window, and my thoughts immediately turn to Aaron. A surprise for me? I hate surprises. They’ve all been bad lately.
And since it’s my birthday tomorrow, I can’t help but worry that it’ll be something over the top.
Oh, god. I swear, if he proposes to me, I’ll shove the box up his ass.
That would be so him. He would so plan for me to have coffee with his cousin—why didn’t I notice something was up then? —then do something ridiculously outrageous.
That thought hangs with me the whole journey home, and by the time I reach our apartment, my hands are sweating. I push the door open slowly and stop when my eyes find him.
He’s standing in front of the bar, next to an array of covered plates. His eyes are sparkling with mischief and his clothes are totally casual. I glance at his jeans. No bulges in his pockets. No box on the table.
Stupid unnecessary freak-out.
But still…my heart pangs a little. After all his talk in London, it wasn’t a ridiculous thought, and maybe moving in has made me want it a little.
That or the pressure of this blackmail bullshit is getting to me.
“Sit down.” Aaron pulls me over to the barstool and sits me on it. He throws my purse on the sofa behind him and tugs my shoes off.
“What are you doing?”
“Your best friend informed me that she’s stealing you for the day tomorrow for your birthday, so I’m bringing my plans forward.”
“Ignoring the fact you seem to talk to Liv more than I do lately, you should be at work.”
“And you should be blindfolded with your mouth full of food by now, but let’s not fuss over technicalities.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Blindfolded?”
He pulls a black silk tie from his pocket, a sexy smirk on his face—the one that tugs at my core—and runs it through his fingers. “Objecting?”
I shake my head. Nope. I’m not objecting.
“Good.” He steps behind me and covers my eyes with it, tying it securely at the back of my head. “Can you see anything?”
“Black silk,” I retort.
He gently tugs a lock of my hair, and the warmth crawling over my cheek tells me that his mouth is by my ear. It’s not even warmth. No, it’s a hot caress across my skin that sets all of me on fire.
“Watch your mouth,” he whispers. “You’re blindfolded and completely under my control.”
Shivers fall down my spine in an oddly erotic way at his words. Oh boy.
“I could take it off,” I reply weakly. We both know I won’t.
Aaron’s thumb runs down my neck and chest to the curve of my breasts. “No, you won’t. You’ll leave it on until I tell you to take it off.”
“Is that right?”
He touches his lips to the corner of my mouth, pulling away when I turn my head. “Absolutely. It stays on until I’m ready to remove it. Now let me feed you.”
“It’s three in the afternoon.”
“I don’t particularly care. I know you skipped lunch, so right now, the only time I want you to open these gorgeous lips is when I’m putting food between them. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Excellent. Now, here we go.”
Something slightly rough nudges at the seam of my lips and I part them. I bite into it, strawberry juice flooding my mouth, and lick my lips slowly. “Mmmm.”
Aaron’s mouth covers mine, silencing my low hum of approval at the sweet fruit, the simple touch heating my body. It’s been a matter of minutes since he covered my eyes with his tie but I can already feel everything so much more intensely.
“Next,” he murmurs, bringing another to my lips.
Some juice dribbles down my chin, and he quickly flicks his tongue against my skin, licking it up. The tip of his tongue slides along my bottom lip, and I let out a quiet moan.
Is this feeding or a lesson in seduction?
“Shh. We won’t get through nearly half of these foods if you make that sound every time.”
“Then don’t lick my lips.”
“Dayton, gorgeous”—he touches something cold in a spoon to my mouth—“your lips aren’t the only thing I plan on licking today.”
That’s it. I’m done for.
Every spark of simmering heat in my body shoots downward at his words, settling deep in my p-ssy. It swirls into a heavy ache that wets my panties at his promising words.
“Chocolate mousse,” I mutter. “Is this a guessing game? It’s easy.”
“No guessing game. Just an exercise to show you how much more intense everything is when you can’t see.”
And he’s right.
Every drop of juice, every lick of a spoon, every sweet layer on my tongue is more potent and intense than it is when I can see it. His hand at my hip is tighter and stronger than if I could see it there.
I don’t feel his touch and the taste of the food in the places I’m supposed to. I taste it and I feel it in every part of my body.
“Open your mouth,” he says huskily, and I know this is getting to him too. Good. He shouldn’t expect to be able to take away my eyes and not get turned on himself.
But what even is this?
I feel the cold chill of glass against my bottom lip, and I close my lips over it. The rich taste of champagne fills my mouth and assaults every taste bud sitting on my tongue as I swallow it down slowly, savoring the richer-than-normal taste.
Mango presses between my lips, and I swallow it down easily, and when he presses what feels like a grape against my mouth, I can’t help the twitch of it. Dammit, don’t play with me, Stone.
“Don’t you have more important things to be doing?” I murmur against the grape.
“No. The lawsuits were distributed this morning and my afternoon is clear for you. So do as you’re told.” He pushes the grape into my lips and I open my mouth.
I close my lips around his fingers, ignoring the grape, and press my tongue against them as he pulls them out of my mouth. He growls low. The sound reverberates through my body, hardening my nipples and adding to the ache in my core.
“Dayton.”
My name leaves him as little more than a husky whisper, and I know instantly that the power has shifted. Where, five minutes ago, he held every bit of it, some has transferred to me. Some has left him and seeped into me with the mere closing of my lips around his fingers.
I smirk, reaching my hand out and finding his. Our fingers link in a moment so intimate, and I squeeze his hand. “I’m not hungry anymore,” I whisper.
“You’re not done.” He squeezes back and pulls his fingers from mine.
Jesus, no. I don’t want food. I want him. I want his body and his touch and his tongue. I want it f*cking everywhere.
I sit impatiently through three more tastings of mango, strawberries, and more champagne. The anticipation is tightening every muscle in my body, practically begging for the answer to all the questions in my mind.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly when he presses his forehead to mine.
“Because you deserve to relax and forget. And I know I can take you to that crazy f*cking oblivion where nothing exists except you and me.”
He’s right. Him and me. That’s what I want. The sweet, delirious, all-encompassing, shattering shudder of my body tightening around his. Of every muscle in my p-ssy clenching and milking his obvious erection for everything it has inside. Of that one single moment where we’re both flying high, prisoners to our pleasure.
“I won’t beg you. Not today.”
“No begging required.”
The clink of plates reaches my ears, and his hands curve around my ass. I wrap my legs around him, and he lifts me, setting me on the bar, and presses his finger to my lips.
“One more,” he rasps. “Okay?”
I nod.
“Open your mouth.”
I do, tilting my head back slightly. The roughness of a shell rests against my bottom lip, and I know what this is before I taste the salty yet slimy fish.
Oyster.
“Bleurgh,” I mutter.
“You live in Seattle and you don’t like oysters?”
“No. I’m not a fan of shellfish,” I reply, feeling him push my legs open.
“You ate shrimp in the Chinese.”
“No, I threw one at you and left the rest piled on the side of my plate.”
He chuckles, standing between my legs. God, don’t step forward.
He does. I push my hips into him at the brush of his erection across the apex of my thigh, and his hands slide up my legs. He slips me across the granite and into him. His erection is hard against my core, rubbing my *, and if my eyes weren’t already closed, I swear to f*ck they’d be squeezed shut so tightly I’d never see again…
This feeling, his hardness against my tenderness while he has me blindfolded, is insanely world-shaking.
Aaron crashes his lips to mine. The oaky taste lingering on him tells me that he’s been sipping whisky as he’s been feeding me. Somehow I’ve been too wrapped up in the overwhelming flavors of the food to notice, but it’s a welcome taste.
It’s warm, touching every part of me, even as his tongue flicks between my lips and begs for entrance into my mouth.
I let him have it, sliding my hands up his arms and into his hair. I tangle my fingers in his silky locks, dreading the day he’ll cut them, and arch myself into him. The rest of his body is as hard and tense as his dick against me, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m really, really not hungry any longer.”
I hear the begging in my voice. The plea. The request.
“I think you need something else.”
I tug on his hair hard. “You’re not the only one who can require, Mr. Stone.”
His lips find my neck and trail down it, peppering kisses. “Tell me, Miss Black. Do you require me to lay you back on our bed and sink my dick so far inside you that we become one?”
“Yep. That. Exactly that.”
He’s the only man I’ve ever met who can bring me to my knees. The only one who can make me shiver in real anticipation, clench in desire, thrust in desperation.
He laughs quietly, sliding his hands across my body, and cups my ass. Slowly, he lifts me, bringing me flush against him, and carries me. I can feel nothing but the rock of his cock against my * and the pressure of his fingertips on my butt.
I’ve never had a sexual experience that’s lasted so long. I’ve never felt so strongly about needing to be filled until I scream.
Aaron Stone is a force to be reckoned with.
The softness of our mattress cushions my behind as I’m lowered onto it. I still feel his touch stronger than anything. It’s almost as if he’s caressing my whole body with his fingertips without really moving them, desperate for every inch of me to feel his intoxicating touch.
And I do. Goose bumps erupt across my body, snaking across my skin, making my hairs stand on end, sparking little shivers. I can feel his eyes running from my head to the very tips of my toes. Feel his gaze coast over my curves, pausing on my breasts and hips.
I don’t know how I know it. Perhaps it’s in the subtle way his breath hitches, getting heavier when he exhales deeply. Perhaps it’s in the twitch of his fingers as they dig deeper into my skin. Or perhaps it’s in the lust and arousal ricocheting between his body and mine.
It’s definitely in the crushing way our lips connect.
The softness of his lips completely contradicts the roughness of his kiss, but the vigor he tugs my zipper down with is completely in line with it. Within seconds, the soft material of my dress is sliding down my body and pooling on the floor at Aaron’s feet.
He pulls back, his teeth grazing my bottom lip and making my * throb so intensely that I moan. He nibbles down my neck, making me arch my body into him. I tug at the hem of his shirt, and his mouth leaves me for a split second so he can pull it over his head.
I run my fingers down his body, tracing every groove on his stomach until I reach the ‘v’ that dips beneath his jeans to the part of his body I’m craving right now.
His lips across my breasts, his tongue sliding beneath the cup of my bra to brush across my nipple, his hot breath cascading across my skin. The sensations evoked by this, being blindfolded, are unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s so intensely erotic that my skin is humming, completely alive.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, trailing his mouth down my stomach. “Who knew you could be so well-behaved in the bedroom?”
“I can change it.” I drag my nails down his back, digging into his skin when I reach the bottom to make my point.
He takes my hands and spreads my arms to the side on the bed. He kneels, his nose brushing along my core, and blows lightly on me. I wriggle my hips. Shit. If my p-ssy wasn’t aching for him already, it definitely is now. It’s throbbing, aching, clenching, desperate for his touch. Any touch.
And then it comes, his fingers pulling my panties down, and his tongue slowly grazes along my hot folds. I whimper and push into him, but it doesn’t faze him. He continues his leisurely pace, exploring every part of me until finally… Oh, God, finally… He presses the tip of his tongue against my * and rubs hard, resulting in a firework-like explosion of pleasure that makes me tremble uncontrollably.
My heart is pounding dangerously fast, my lungs burning with the force of my rapid breathing. I feel empty as he releases my legs, and through the blood roaring in my ears, I hear the pull of his zipper. The moment the sound of his jeans hitting the floor reaches my ears, the warmth of his body over mine returns.
It’s accompanied by a long, smooth thrust inside me. A tug at the back of my head and the silk tie falls away from my eyes.
I open them and stare into the striking, lustful blue of Aaron’s. I lift my legs until they’re wrapped around his waist and tilt my hips up until he’s buried completely inside me and we’re connected as one.
“I love being inside you,” he says against my mouth. “The way your hot, wet cunt wraps around me and hugs me tightly drives me crazy. It makes me want to drive into you until you’re begging me to slow down. It makes me want to f*ck you so hard you can’t do anything but scream my f*cking name.”
My nails dig into his back and his name falls from my lips in a desperate whisper. The man can word-f*ck me and penetrate me with those words almost as deep and as sweetly as he does with his dick.
“Whispering?” He thrusts into me harder. “I’m f*cking you like this and you’re whispering my name?”
I moan when he pauses inside me and grabs my chin. He turns my face toward his, demanding I look at him.
“By the time I’m done with you, Dayton, whispering will be the last thing you think of. You’ll be screaming my name so loudly that it’ll be completely silent.”
“Requirement?” I breathe, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“You bet your tight little ass it’s a requirement. If you don’t scream for me every time I f*ck you, I’m not doing it hard enough.”
He silences whatever I was going to say next with another crushing kiss, his tongue slipping straight between my lips. He dominates my mouth the way he dominates my p-ssy, hard and deep, strong and determined. He pounds and he sweeps and he teases until my muscles clench around him hard and I come in a second rush of swamping heat.
Aaron’s own release is seconds behind mine, and his cock swells inside me as he comes in hot spurts. His hard kisses slow, turning tender and loving, and he lowers his body to mine completely.
It’s hard and sweaty and so f*cking hard, but I don’t care. I don’t care about the pressure the weight of him is putting on my chest as I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight to me.
He pulls his head back after a long moment of us lying here together and looks me in the eye. His lips pull up on one side, and he strokes the back of his fingers down my cheek.
“Happy early birthday, beautiful woman.”
I cover his hand with mine and smile. “Thank you, baby. I think it’s my favorite yet.”
“Yeah?” He rolls to the side and pulls me on top of him. “Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you yet.”