Miss Johnson—fuck, he’d forgotten her name—lingered, taking in the valuable 57th Avenue view that overlooked Central Park. It was one of the best along Billionaire Row.
“Stunning,” she said, stepping up to the full-length glass.
Daniel removed his cufflinks, and they pinged as he dropped them on his custom-made oak wood desk. He rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows and checked the time on his Piguet watch.
They had thirty-five minutes.
Daniel moved to stand beside Miss Johnson and dug his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to assume you give head.”
She turned, her mouth opening.
A good start.
Daniel leaned in and ran his finger through her hair. “Or I can bend you over my desk and fuck you. You decide.”
Her mouth closed and acceptance settled over her features. She was too proud to storm out, and he knew she was wet for him.
She reached for his fly and slid to her knees. “Both.” Her eyes lifted to his as she gripped his cock.
Daniel didn’t answer. He simply watched her tongue swirl around his swollen head and take him deeper, inch by inch.
Daniel let out a low moan. He gripped her hair and pressed in further while she moved skillfully over and around him. It wasn’t long before he was fucking her throat as she milked him dry. He groaned out his orgasm while she swallowed.
That was a bonus—he thought she’d be a spitter.
She sat back on her Manolo Blahnik heels and licked her lips. She was a beautiful woman, more natural than many in this town, but like all those before her, Daniel suddenly lost interest.
Most of them were here for his last name. They often had trust funds or money of their own, but he had power and they falsely believed by marrying him, they would also have power.
They were wrong. Power was someone either had or didn’t have. It came from within, as much as a bank balance.
Dufort Hotels, which made up most of the Dufort Dynasty, had properties all over the world. It had been built by his father and went public five years ago. Two years ago, his father had stepped away—though remained the majority shareholder—and Daniel had taken on the position he’d been groomed for all his life.
CEO of Dufort Hotels.
“Thank you for being my date tonight,” he said, zipping his pants. God, why could he not remember her name? Megan. Shit. “Give your father my regards, Megan.”
She stood and smiled at him, all sultry. “I think you’ve forgotten about part two.”
No. He hadn’t.
Fortunately, his father was always early and at any moment he’d be interrupted if things got tense. Occasionally, claws came out when they felt rejected.
“Looks like we are out of time. I need to prepare for my meeting,” he replied with no pretense of disappointment, then stepped away. “Please make use of the facilities before you leave if you need to.”
Daniel stepped behind his large desk and lifted his laptop open.
Megan cleared her throat and picked up her purse. “No, thank you. I will gargle the sperm from my throat with a glass of Cristal champagne when I get home,” she replied, then spun and walked out of the office with her head held high.
Despite himself, Daniel smiled.
Good for her.
A moment later, his father stepped into his office, thumbing his finger over his shoulder. “Was that Senator Johnson's daughter I saw leaving?”
“Yes. She accompanied me to the Glass Towers rebrand launch this evening,” Daniel said.
Glass Towers were a friendly competitor in New York City, but a competitor, nevertheless. He’d chosen the senator’s daughter as a political statement because of some government lobbying he was doing regarding the water system in Manhattan. The CEO, David Glass, disagreed with Dufort, which could cost Glass Towers a small fortune if it went ahead. But it was the right thing to do, and they both knew it.