“Got it!” He claps his hands together, and I know he’s pumped now. My smile widens.
“Get to it then. Send me the video as soon as you’re done so I can take a quick look. It’s going to be great, Kenneth.”
Kenneth does a lot of impromptu performance videos, but even those take him a little while to pull together. I watch a couple more of the reaction videos before grimacing and switching to checking my other clients’ activities. Thank the Lord, the internet is being kind to the rest of them today.
After a while, I get tired of sitting. I pace in my room a couple times before my restless legs carry me out into the hall. My jellyfish-fried calf barely throbs at all now. One victory at a time!
I’ve made it to the elevators and just turned around to wander back when Brooke comes out of the bridal suite at the opposite end. She leans against the door, and her head droops. The second I see that, I forget Kenneth and the video I’m waiting for.
I hurry over. Brooke jerks upright at the sound of my feet. “Ruby,” she says, with a smile that looks forced. “What’s up?”
“Just some client issues.” I wave my phone. “In the process of being taken care of. What’s up with you? Is everything okay?”
She laughs, a little shakily. “Yeah, of course. I mean, you know, other than the standard ‘oh my God we’re somehow going to pull off a wedding tomorrow’ jitters.”
It feels like more than that. I know her. But I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off. “If there was anything else bothering you, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? I’m your maid of honor, and your best friend. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Of course,” she says. “I promise, it’s nothing you need to worry about. You’ve got enough of that already, it looks like.”
My phone conspires with her brush-off by trilling an alert at that exact moment. My arm twitches. I keep it at my side. “If there’s anything I can help out with to make sure tomorrow goes smoothly . . .”
Brooke shakes her head. “There isn’t. It’s all set up. I’m just going down to check on the rehearsal dinner arrangements, and then that’s done too. All you’ve got to do is show up. Now get that call.”
She squeezes my arm as she passes me. I hesitate a moment longer and then lift my phone.
It’s not a call. It’s a new file in my shared cloud. Kenneth has delivered.
I slip back into my room to watch it. By the end, I’m beaming. The kid has talent. After seeing this, I’d dare anyone to try to argue that.
Great work, Mr. Krunk, I text to him. It’s perfect. Go ahead and post.
As soon as I’ve seen the tide of the online conversation turning, I reward myself with a much-needed sunbathing session on my balcony’s lounger. The sun beams down on me and the chirp of tropical birds fills the air. My muscles gradually relax into the cushions. Then my phone chimes—with a text from Will.
Officer Walters, your presence is requested on the bridge. I’ve got something hard here that requires your attention.
Looks like he finally got a break from meetings. I grin. I can certainly take the situation in hand, Captain Cassidy.
Will’s office is on the top floor, just above the jungle canopy. You’d think I’d have used up all my awe at the beauty of this resort, but when I step into the room and see the view over the sparkling ocean through the ceiling-high windows that fill two full walls, for a second I can only gape. Will leans back in his leather chair, smiling at my reaction.
“Difficult to mind coming to work when you get to look at that all day,” he says.
I shut the door behind me and walk around his desk to peer right through the glass. Down the line of the beach, I think I can spot the little pier where we set off for our snorkeling expedition . . . was that just yesterday?
Will stands up, and I turn toward him. The smolder in his gaze makes my pulse skip. I sidle closer, looking at him through my eyelashes. “You wanted me, sir?”
He pulls my mouth to his in answer. He tastes like coffee, rich and just the right amount of bitter. I hum with pleasure as I kiss him back. My hand trails down his shirt to the bulge in his pants. He is already hard. A little thrill runs through me. I stroke my fingers firmly over his cock through the fabric, and he groans into my mouth.
“I can see why you needed assistance,” I murmur, with an urge I’m all too happy to give into. I unzip his fly as I sink to my knees in front of him.
“Ruby,” Will starts. I release him from his boxers, and his voice cuts off with a choked sound.
He’s just as impressive by daylight as he was last night. I squeeze the base of his cock and flick my thumb up over the head before following with my tongue. Will lets out another groan. His fingers tangle in my hair, his other hand bracing against the back of his chair.
Just hearing the sounds he’s making, the ragged pant of his breath, gets me wet. I’m totally in charge now. He’s putty in my hands. I grip the base of his cock and suck the whole length down, reveling in the tremor that runs through his body. Maybe this is a few days’ fling, but I want to be burned into his memory.
His cock twitches as I swirl my tongue. I grin around it. Then, just as I’m angling myself to take him even deeper, the door on the other side of the room clicks open.
“Mr. Cassidy?” a male voice says.
I jerk back. Will freezes. His hand on my head keeps me in place, not that I’m particularly inclined to pop up right now. His desk and the back of his chair should hide me from view for now.
“This isn’t a good time, Boyd,” Will says with remarkable control. I can only hear a faint rasp in his voice. A mischievous impulse tickles through me. I lean forward and lick the head of his cock. His fingers tighten in my hair.
“It’s only—that email you were asking about finally came in.”
“Wonderful.”
I ease my fingers back to tease over his balls. His breath hitches before he can quite catch it.
“Are you all right, Mr. Cassidy?” the assistant says. I swallow a giggle.
“Yes,” Will manages. “Absolutely. Forward that email to me. And I don’t want to be disturbed for any reason until my four o’clock. Understood?”
“Yes, sorry, Mr. Cassidy.”
The door taps shut. I shift to take Will’s cock into my mouth again, but before I can, he’s yanking me to my feet.
“You,” he growls. He spins me around so I land on the edge of his desk, his hips between my knees. Papers scatter. Then his mouth is claiming mine, punishing and needy. His hands shove up under the skirt of my dress to wrench down my panties.
“I really should lock that fucking door,” he mutters. “But this can’t wait. If he walks back in here, he deserves to be scandalized.”