Almond shaped eyes, with irises so dark, the brown reminds me of espresso. Long, curly black hair tumbles to her tiny waist and sweet flare of her hips. She’s not very tall, but somehow, her legs still seem long and shapely. Though, I’m not happy about how much of them is on display due to her short, grey, pencil skirt. It’s not an unprofessional length, I simply don’t like other men seeing what’s mine. Especially when she’s wearing bright-red, fuck me heels. The thought of another man imagining those legs locked around them makes me want to scoop her up and take her to a place where we are all alone.
My eyes travel back up, and I try extremely hard not to linger on her generous tits pressing against her white blouse. It’s hard as fuck because they are truly mouthwatering. Her neck is slender and made for soft kisses, her nose is cute, but the real centerpiece is her mouth. Those full, plush lips, painted blood red, are made for deep, passionate kisses and will look incredible wrapped around my cock. Speaking of which, I surreptitiously step to the side so that the back of a chair hides the steel rod tenting my suit pants.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant.” Her tone is all business, but all I can hear is that sexy voice calling out my name as I bury myself inside her, over and over.
I swallow hard and hold out my hand, trying to get my thoughts back on track. “Tyson, please. Very nice to meet you, Miss…” Please don’t say Mrs.
“Colette,” she responds, leaving me frustrated that I still don’t know if she’s married. She’s not wearing a ring but that’s not always a reliable indication these days, especially in Hollywood. “I apologize for not meeting with you in my office, but it’s being remodeled and won’t be ready for a few days yet.” She tugs her hand and I suddenly realize I’m still clasping it in mine. Her skin is soft, and heat floods my veins as I imagine what they will feel like running all over my body.
Get your mind out of the gutter and your head back in the game, Grant.
I clear my throat and gesture for Colette (such a fucking sexy name) to join me at the table. She walks towards the head of the table and while her back is turned, I adjust myself so that my cock is no longer pointing right at her, then I rush over to pull out her chair.
She glances up at me in surprise and gives me a sweet smile that causes warmth to bloom in my chest. “Thank you.”
I take the seat directly to her left and try to appear relaxed, leaning back in my seat and resting one of my ankles on the opposite knee. “I assume you’re new here?” I ask with a smile. “I certainly wouldn’t forget meeting you.”
Colette shifts a little in her seat and crosses her legs, drawing my eyes again to how much thigh is exposed by her skirt. “Not new exactly,” she hedges. “But, taking on a new role at the studio.” She folds her hands primly in her lap and I drag my eyes up to her face, expecting to see admonishment over the way I’ve been ogling her. What I find, is a turbulent blend of emotions. Curiosity, pleasure, and desire. I lick my suddenly dry lips and have to stifle a giant grin when she emits a tiny shudder and her nipples poke the silky fabric of her shirt. “I know you were expecting my—the president, but he asked me to take this meeting on his behalf.”
The way she stumbled over his title sparks a low burn of anger in my gut. What is she to him? I know his wife died a long time ago. Is Colette his girlfriend? Mistress?
Then it hits me, she probably doesn’t even have a real job here. This is Grier’s way of fucking with me. Sending a nobody to relay his message that he isn’t budging in his stance against my client. This should truly piss me off, but I am more furious over the fact that Colette might belong to him, than the insult he’d just lobbed at me.
“Colette, I appreciate you taking the time to see me, but I’m going to insist that Carson get his ass in here. No offense, but I need to speak with someone who has real authority in the company.” I honestly am not trying to insult her; I’m simply stating fact.
However, her red lips pinch, and she glares at me, hands moving to grip the arms of her chair. “As the Assistant Vice President, I assure you I have the power to tell you that your client doesn’t have a chance in hell of ever working at Grier Studios.”