I give him the stink eye, sure that I’m being set up. “What’s the catch?”
“What catch? I just told you. I keep working, I apologize for hurting those girls—even if it wasn’t my fault—and help you get the guy.”
“How will you make things right with those girls? They are pissed. They want you fired, Fletcher. I can’t just ignore that.”
“I’ll find them guys too. New guys,” he adds quickly. “Not me. Nice guys.”
“What, you’re some kind of matchmaker? Where the hell are you gonna get guys to date them?”
He walks across the room and opens a drawer filled with files. “I am a matchmaker. I have a secret side business. Because sexy doesn’t sell, Tiffy. It’s for sale.”
I laugh out loud again. “Is that your tagline?”
“It’s good, right?” He smiles at me, one hundred percent serious. “I’m a hookup genius, Tiffy. I will find a guy for each girl and I’ll hook Cole for you too. I’m good at this, I swear.”
“What is all that?” I ask, pointing to the files.
“Satisfied customers. Clients. It’s a side job I started a few years ago and I’ve got seventeen real hookups. My first two are already engaged. And another five are heading in the same direction. The other ten are, well, works in progress. But all of them are still going. And before you blow up at me for having two sleazy jobs, ask yourself why women might need me. For real.” He stares hard at me like he’s waiting for an answer.
“Because… you know what men want, I guess. And you know what women want, obviously. You’re pretty good in that department.”
“Exactly. I don’t force women to come look at me take my clothes off. I don’t force women to hire me to find them a boyfriend. All I do is fill a niche. And you need filling, Tiffy. I can help you too.”
I scowl at him. “You don’t even know me. Or Cole.”
He turns me around, takes my hands, pins them behind my back and pushes me up again the wall. “I know all I need to know, Miss Preston.”
The switch from casual Tiffy to formal Miss Preston does a number on my heart. And when he pushes his hips into my ass, I have to draw in a tight breath.
“I know you want Cole to fuck you like I did this morning.” His hand slips down to my waist and then slides along the little dent under my hip bone. “You want him to touch you, Tiffy?” He gathers up my flirty pink dress in a bunch and then he’s underneath it, stroking my thigh. My pussy tightens and tingles with anticipation of what I know is coming. I should stop him. We cannot do this again. But everything about Fletcher Novak makes me want to say yes.
“You want him to make you come three times in a row? I can make him want to do that. I can change the way he sees you. I can deliver what you think you want.”
And then Fletcher is pushing my panties aside and stroking my pussy.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I gasp. We cannot do this again.
“He’s a big guy. He’s got big hands, doesn’t he?”
Oh my God, why does Fletcher have this effect on me? Why does he make me feel so good? “Mmmm,” I mew out, totally embarrassed that I’m letting him get me started again, and yet utterly helpless to stop him.
“I bet two of my fingers equal one of his.”
“Fletcher, we can’t,” I moan as he slips two fingers inside me.
“I bet you imagine he’ll stretch you like this, right?”
I’m not even capable of talking right now.
“I’m sure his cock is small and puny and will be a huge disappointment—”
“Fletcher!”
“Because my cock is the king and always delivers satisfaction.” Fletcher laughs, and I lean back into his chest a little. “But if you want him, I can deliver. I can. But I’m seriously not ready to leave this job. So princess, let me take care of things, OK? I’ll make it all right. And we’ll both end up happy.”
I know it’s wrong—not giving in to his plan, I’m all over that—it’s wrong to want him to keep going. But I do. So I fake my reluctance. Just a little, so he will try a little harder to convince me. “I don’t know…”
“Remember,” he breathes into my neck, just the way he told me to do it—and holy fuck, that shit works again—“how it felt to be with a man who pays attention? I can make him pay attention, Tiffy.” He continues to finger me, pushing in and out in a motion that is so slow, it’s killing me with anticipation. And then he withdraws his fingers and I whimper.
He laughs into my neck. “Turn around,” he says, making it more of a command than a request.
I turn slowly, my eyes on the floor. What am I doing? Didn’t I just get done convincing myself it was a mistake to fuck him? And now I’m caught in that web again.
But he lifts my chin up with one fingertip, and waits for me to drag my eyes up to his.
When I finally do, he smiles. Relaxing me. “Put your hands above your head.”
I blink at him again.
“Do it.”
I gulp some air and do as I’m told. My breasts lift up, my nipples perky and hard. The hem of my dress hits me mid-thigh now, and then Fletcher presses his knee between my legs, making the throbbing that started to abate when he withdrew his fingers start back up.
“I’m good,” he says.
I nod.
“Say it.”
“You’re good at this, Fletcher.”
“Tell me to finish and I will.”
God, I want him to finish.
“Don’t feel guilt. It’s fun.”
“I do feel guilt. I feel dirty. But I still want you to finish.”
That smile again. God, it’s incredible. I love seeing him smile. And it makes me realize that the normal smile he wears all day is nothing like the real one. It’s fake.
“I’d like to as well,” he says. “So just do as you’re told and this one-day stand will end with perfection.”
His hands slide under my dress, cupping my ass cheeks. He lifts me up and presses his body against mine, grinding his hips against me. Not enough to hit the sweet spot between my legs, just enough to make me crazy with want.
He kisses me. His mouth is soft and tender one moment, hard and pressing the next. His tongue glides against mine, tasting me from the inside out.
He pulls away and stares down at me with his eyes heavy with lust. Does he really want me? “It’s still a one-time thing if we do it again in the same twenty-four hours.”
Well, I guess that answers my question.
“Do you think Cole will fuck you the way I did?”
“Um… I hope so?” What the hell was that? Do I detect a hint of insecurity in Fletcher Novak? He’s all over the place right now.
Kinda like me.
“I really should stop.” He stills his hips, waiting to see if I’ll encourage him to go on. We must be having the same struggle. We both want it, but know we shouldn’t. “Tell me not to stop.”
And because I was told to do as I’m told, and I’m rationalizing the hell out of this right now, I tell him. “Don’t stop.”
We’re both rationalizing this, but neither of us cares. He lowers me until my feet find the floor and then he places my hands on his belt buckle. “Kneel down and take me out, Tiffy.”
I glance up at him, meet his eyes for just the briefest of moments, and then glance down at my hands as they automatically pull the brown leather strap and start threading through the buckle.
He digs his hands into my hair, urging me to go faster. The buckle jingles as I get it loose, and then I pop the button open and drag the zipper down. I can see his hard bulge pressing up against his black boxer briefs and I can’t touch him fast enough.
I place my palm on his hot cock.
He moans out, “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Grab it, Tiffy. Squeeze it hard. And then place your mouth on it and lick me through the fabric.”
I grip him hard like he wants me to, and then lean in and place my mouth on his length. His cock jumps from my touch, and that just makes me want to do more. I drag my tongue up and down his shaft, pressing on him with a little bit of force. He moans again and then his hands, still fisting my hair, begin rubbing my face into his cock. This time I’m more comfortable, so I let him control me. He rocks back a little, making me look up. I meet his gaze and he says, “Fuck, you turn me on. Keep going.”