“This is me.” I make a note of adding bright lights to where her parking spot is reserved for ‘The owner of Viva La Tranquiliá’. At least this way, she always has a spot. It also has Pierre written all over it, overseeing all of the fine details that no one seems to think about.
“So it is.” Celeste has the keys to her two-door older model Audi A5 in her hand. It’s in pristine condition even if it has some age on it. Black on black; paint color, rims, and interior from what I can see through the windshield, seeing as her windows are tinted. It’s pure class, just like the owner, and when she goes to open her door, I take over, going for the door handle before Celeste can.
“Thanks, and thank you for everything tonight. I won’t lie, it was a bit worrisome with what was going on outside the spa and, well, walking to my car late at night. Hopefully, tomorrow won’t be like today.” Celeste stands at her open door. She may have lost her heels when I appeared at the spa, but it doesn’t change the sultriness she carries around her.
“You’re welcome, and if it is, call me.” I pull out my wallet and take out a business card, spinning it between my fingers then putting it within her reach. “Use it, please.” Her fingers graze mine as she takes it from me.
“Sure, I’ll do that.” She holds the card in the palm of her hand, better than putting it in her bag, letting it disappear to the bottom to never be found.
“Good night, Celeste.” I lean in and let my lips graze hers, softer than the other kisses we’ve exchanged tonight. I step back and watch her get situated then start the car, not leaving my place in the parking garage until the last thing I see is her taillights.
SIX
Celeste
“Oh,I fucked up. I fucked up big time.” I make it home, keeping my thoughts away from Wylder freaking Hayes, a miracle in itself. That’s probably because leaving The Strip at any time day or night is always a struggle with pedestrians walking every which way. I get it; I’ve been a tourist at one point in my life, but almost running them over because they’re trying to get the best photo ever is absolutely terrifying. That all changed once I parked my car in my apartment complex, shut down Beauty—yes, I named my pretty coupé—grabbed my stuff, and went straight to my fourth-floor apartment, getting the views of the desert instead of The Strip.
My mind goes back to the kiss Wylde laid on me. I’d like to say it caught me by surprise, but it didn’t. If anything, the chemistry simmering around us was like a boiling pot of water, slowly creeping to the top, only to bubble over no matter if you stir, blow on it, or move it off the burner, it’s that hot. The worst part is, it’s so freaking late I can’t even call Tyra to tell her that I’ve experienced the greatest kiss of my life. I’m thirty-one years old; sad to say that I’ve kissed many frogs to finally land a prince only for him to be my boss. Kismet isn’t doing me any favors today, that’s for sure.
I kick off my shoes by the door, drop my bag where it lands, and throw my keys in the small dish that’s on my entry table. Along with the business card Wylde gave me. I never did put it down once he handed it to me; instead, I kept it in the palm of my hand the entire drive home. Utterly ridiculous, that’s what I am. I kiss my fingertips before pressing them to the picture in the frame. It’s hard when you lose a pet that becomes your family, my beloved puppy who I rescued at the young age of twenty-one. My parents told me it was the dumbest idea I ever had, thinking I’d be too busy for Creedence, the small Frenchie mixed with a Terrier of some kind. I never did forget about my boy. It didn’t matter how busy I was, I’d make time for her or hire a dog sitter who would come let her out when needed. There’s still a small hole in my heart that I’m not sure I’ll ever get back from having to make that difficult decision last year.
Once I do that, my usual routine every time I walk through the door, my hand goes to my back, finding the zipper as I walk through the hallway of my two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bathroom apartment. The white walls that came with the place blend perfectly with my mid-century modern style, allowing me to add the muted greens, blacks, and gold accents without it becoming obnoxiously overloaded. My dress falls down, getting hung on my hips, the name of the game when you have curves. I shimmy until the dress drops, then pick it up and place it on the chair in my room that holds the never-ending pile of clothes I’ll eventually hang up or put in the dresser.
My gaze lands on the mirror situated in the corner of my room. I’m standing in my nude silk and lace bra and panties, lips still plump from Wylde’s kisses. The way he nipped at them, sucking them into his mouth, gaining entrance without me putting up a fight, plays on my mind. My fingers touch my mouth as I think about how I let my body take over my mind, much like I’m starting to do now. A vision of Wylde sliding the skirt of my dress up, wrenching my panties to the side invades my mind, of feeling his thick calloused fingers. They’re not being gentle; no, there’s nothing gentle about Wylde, and honestly, that’s not what I want, not what I desire. I need the gruffness, the no-bars-hold eroticism that he’s lit inside of me.
That’s probably why my fingers that were on my lips are moving, slowly, so slowly, teasing myself down the slope of my neck while my other hand reaches for the clasp situated between my breast, popping it open. The strapless design allows it float to the ground, leaving me standing in just my thong. I imagine Wylde behind me. It’s his hand cupping my breast, forefinger and thumb tugging on my nipple like I’m doing now, eyes fluttering closed, not wanting to lose the sensation that’s building inside of me. One of the most sensitive places on my body are my breasts. It doesn’t matter which part; it could be the underside or the slope, there’s something about it that has my core clenching, and adding the sweeping, pinching, and pulling on my nipple, I’m instantly on the verge of coming. My eyes pop open, the hand not on my breast slides towards my lower belly, creeping ever so slowly and softly, building up an inferno inside of me, further igniting the flame that kept me dangling off the ledge earlier tonight with Wylde. I so badly wish he weren’t my boss. If he weren’t, I’d have probably told him to forget about walking me to my car, forgetting all of my worries, and asked to be taken against the wall in the elevator. That’s why I’m taking care of my own gratification, dreaming up all the deliciously dirty things Wylde would be doing to me in a perfect world. My hands creep lower until I’m grazing the smooth skin, the tips of my fingers feeling the wetness that’s saturating the lips of my center. I so badly want to slide inside myself but know that if I taunt myself a bit more, the end result will leave me breathless, boneless, and maybe I’ll be able to sleep without waking up wet and achy.
“God, yes.” My middle finger drifts, poised right at the entrance, ready and willing to drive myself crazy at the thought that this could have potentially been Wylde’s fingers working my body into a fevered pace. My fingers becomes firmer with my nipple as I sink one finger inside my depths, pulling out only to add another one, knowing with just a few more strokes I’ll be ready to orgasm, and the way it’s building, it’ll be earth shattering.
“Wylde,” I moan into the empty room, somehow managing to keep my eyes open, looking at myself in the mirror, seeing the light sheen of sweat coating my body, knees locking tightly. It’s a wonder I’m still standing when the moment takes me away, practically sweeping me off my feet when my center clamps down tightly on my fingers. A whimper leaves me and lightning flashes behind my now closed eyelids. I’m unable to keep them open. I would have loved to watch my body fall apart, watching the effect take over my body. I know it would be a million times better if it were Wylde’s hands on my body, his chest against my back and his eyes watching what he does to me.
SEVEN
Wylde
“I can seewhy there was such a hurry for you to get downstairs. The hands-off comment makes even more sense now. And don’t worry, I cleared the video camera feed from the security side of the network and put it in your folder for only you to see,” Nico says as he’s walking into the garage. Probably leaving for the night to head home, lucky fucker.
“Thanks. If it weren’t for the transferring of funds, those cameras wouldn’t have been installed. Just the same, I’ll have to be careful from now on.” I don’t touch on the off-limits topic. He’s not an idiot. We’ve known each other for years. In our younger years, whoever saw the prettiest girl and wanted to make the first play, all it took was one word for the other to back away. Of course, none of it amounted to anything, much to our mothers’ chagrin. If they had it their way, we’d have been married by now, and our wives would be popping out kids left and right. It’s too bad neither of us were ready in our younger years. We are both still single, not looking to settle down even though I’m nearing forty and Nico is right behind me.
“Well, it’s been fun. I still have to make a couple more runs before my night is over. Good luck with the woman. Looks like you might have met your match.”
“Later, man. Thanks again for the help, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate. I know the takeover could get volatile.” Nico tips his head to the side, a sign that he’s deep in thought, more than likely about how life will change drastically for him.
“Will do. Why don’t you go home for a change while you’re at it?” Nico states, knowing he’s as bad as I am. He’ll sleep at the warehouse his famiglia does business in when it’s an all-hands-on-deck type of day.
“Not a bad idea. After the security issue is handled, I plan on doing that.” We shake hands and pull each other in for a hug. I clap his back before letting go. This time, I don’t watch anyone leave; instead, Nico goes his way and I go mine. I don’t have time for my head to be clouded with thoughts of Celeste, how sweet she tasted while kissing her, her soft mewls, breathy moans, and a body that was molded against mine. Fuck, if I don’t take care of this menace of a cock, I’ll never get my work done and going home won’t happen for another three Goddamn days.
I run my fingers through my hair, knowing after the early morning, late night, and now being up well past midnight, I’m worse for the wear. My hair has lost the slicked-back style I prefer while working, my suit is a wrinkled mess, and my beard is more than likely disheveled as well. It’s not looking great for the boss of what I’m hopeful is a successful casino and hotel. The plus side is, at least the club on the property isn’t open yet, or we’d be really in trouble with not having enough security. That’s another storefront type of business we didn’t lease out, knowing it’d be another money maker. And when you owe the Italian mafia a lot of fucking money, you get ingenuitive real quick on how to pay them back. I like my knees not busted and my fingers attached to my hands. Family or not, if you fuck up, you’re going to pay. I’m scanning the card to the elevator, ready to get back in my office, done with people pleasing for the day, when my cell phone starts ringing again.
“Son of a bitch.” I look at the display on my phone. Not even an inkling inside of me thought it would be Celeste, though I’d much prefer that to the head of fucking security calling me for a second time tonight.
“What’s up, Terry?” I answer the phone. We shouldn’t be having any problems this early on, especially considering this was a personal invite only event. That shit down by the pool happened because of someone’s plus one. We diffused the situation, gave them both a warning, letting them know if there’s another problem, not only will the mouthy shit be banned, but so will the person who brought him.
“I hate to bother you, Mr. Hayes, but that situation is escalating. We’ve got the instigator in a separate room from Mr. Delaney, who’s currently asking to speak with you and wants to rectify the issue. In his defense, he was trying to escort the other individual out of the hotel when things got dicey.” Christ, what was I thinking letting the manager on duty off early tonight? What an epic failure and a lesson I’m beginning to learn one too many times.
“Tell him I’ll be right there. Delaney’s a good guy. Not sure who he brought along.” I think back to the time I bought a prime piece of real estate off him for a song. The market was just on the cusp of soaring with the help of Delaney working his magic, and having a cash offer, well, he’s the reason I’m in my penthouse condo. It’s tripled in price from the million-dollar price tag to now nearly four million.
“Will do. Thank you, Mr. Hayes,” Terry responds.