Nessa
Too many glassesof champagne later, which is definitely not my usual drink, heels discarded, and the charity event finally winding down, and The Met is quiet, thank goodness. The only people left are the caterers and cleaning crew. I’d like to say I’m helping them. The sad fact is I’m not, instead pouring over the numbers we brought in, analyzing what did the best so we can cut the smaller stuff out next year and give our audience what they want. Usually, this would be Mom’s job, but Dad asked if he could whisk her away, saying if he didn’t get real food in her stomach soon, she was going to gnaw off her arm. I completely understand that sentiment. My grinder sandwich is slowly leaving my system. With the way the extra dry yet super sweet champagne is sitting in my stomach, I’ll need food, water, and aspirin in my body, and soon like.
“We’re done, Miss Taylor. The food that was leftover was sent to the shelter like you requested,” Marni, the owner of the catering business, lets me know. Last year, it came to our attention how much food was still being thrown away after we allowed workers for the event to take what they wanted. So much was left, enough to feed at least fifty plus people. This year, Mom and I found a shelter not far from The Met and asked Marni to make sure it was delivered while still warm so it wouldn’t spoil.
“Thank you. We truly appreciate your hard work,” I tell her, even if I still think the food isn’t worth the price we pay.
“Always a pleasure. Your mom took care of the invoice. See you next time.” Then Marni’s off without waiting for a reply. I sit back, the laptop in front of me, my eyes happy with the numbers I’m seeing. In no time at all, there will be a lot to help families who desperately need it. Money for things like hotel rooms, service animals to bring happiness to a child’s eyes, financial support, and a new wing to expand on the hospital. Which is sad in itself, having to expand a hospital for pediatric oncology. It won’t stop there, though; my parents want to do more in any area of pediatric care, and I’m going to help them every step of the way. I close my laptop, ready to call it a night before it’s too late to order a car. It doesn’t take me long to pack up my things, and since the caterer is gone, there’s no reason to stay. The cleaning service we hired has handled our events before, as well as a plethora of others. I slide my feet back into my high heels, my body protesting at the thought of walking, immensely. It’s as if all of the adrenaline from tonight is starting to drain, and I’m left feeling bone tired.
I grab my oversized shoulder tote that holds everything I could possibly need, minus a pair of flats—rookie move on my part—have my phone in hand to pull up the app to order a car, and head down, blissfully unaware as I walk out the doors to the building. Home, that’s where I want to be and I’m bound and determine to get my to my studio apartment that is in walking distance of Central Park. Believe me, when I scoped the place out after graduating from nursing school, I was tempted to take my parents up on their offer to upgrade to a different building, one that had a small balcony to sit outside and drink a cup of coffee on the days I’m not working nights. I didn’t, though. I held firm in saying no. My parents may be billionaires, but that’s not my money, and while yes, I have a trust, and investing in real estate would be the best way to utilize it, I wanted to do this on my own. The only thing I did allow them to help me with was furnishing a few things and the deposit, promising to pay it back. Mom and Dad ignored my comment and told me I did enough, made them proud, not asking for any and all handouts. They put money aside for my schooling at a young age. Going away to an out-of-state college wasn’t something I wanted, a homebody through and through, and to be away from my parents? No freaking way. So, I stayed put, lived at home, did what I wanted with Millie next to me, only she wasn’t in nursing school. Millie preferred a different avenue, took classes for business while working at a bookstore that has a coffee shop attached to it in the hopes that one day, the owners will sell it to her.
“Umph.” I walk into a hard body. A scent that is familiar from earlier tonight surrounds me—dark, woodsy, unlike any cologne I’ve ever smelt before—making me wonder if this is Parker Hudson’s natural scent. Oh, to be a man, to do little to nothing with your hair, use a bar of soap for your body and face, clothes you throw on and know they’ll look good because do men ever really have a day they feel bloated?
“Careful, Nessa.” His hands wrap around my upper arms, holding me until I’m steady on my feet. Stupid heels. If we weren’t in the city where there’s a heavy foot path, I’d be tempted to go barefoot.
“Thanks.” I take a steadying breath. “And so we meet again. What are you still doing here?” I ask without saying hello. All night, my mind was on the mysterious man. After he left the area where we handled the funding, I didn’t see him again. My parents were mingling with their friends as well as some of the new faces I’ve never seen before. It made it hard to ask my dad who Parker Hudson is, where he came from, and why I’ve not seen him in any other social settings.
“I had a meeting. Didn’t want to take it while in the car and dealing with the road noise. Why are you still here?” My eyes move from the black-on-black fabric that I know if I were to press my hands against it would be the softest material ever, and meet Parker’s. When he introduced himself earlier, Parker was aloof, gruff, and to the point, doing things to my body with just a touch, much like he’s doing now. My core tightens thinking of how he’s gripping my arms and what else he’s capable of holding while we’re in bed together.
“I had to finish up a few things, make sure the caterer was set, which leads me to here. Do you want to share a car?” I ask, bolder than I’d usually be with someone I just met. If it were at any other event, I’d probably never suggest it, but since he had no problem spending so much money for a date, I think he’s a safe bet.
“I’ve already got one coming.” That deflates the hopefulness in my chest, thinking I’d get a chance to get to know the man before we go out on a date, one without a set time limit.
“Oh, if you’ll excuse me, I need to do the same thing.” I recover while stepping back, my feet, calves, thighs, and lower back pissed that I’m putting them through hell.
“Nessa, that doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to share a car with you.” His hands are still on my arms. One slides away while the other moves lower, until he’s got me in the crook of his body, guiding me out of the building without me saying another word. One thing I’m coming to learn about Parker Hudson is that while he doesn’t say a lot, his body language says enough. He’s also one to go after what he wants, and clearly, that includes me.
FIVE
Parker
I openthe car door for her, having given my driver the night off after he brought me to the event. Giles doesn’t usually work on the weekends, knowing I prefer to stay at home if I’m not at the office. Groceries can be delivered, my building has a home office as well as a gym, and the need to be seen isn’t for me. I leave that task to Ezra, Theo, and Boston these days. Too many years to count, we were a different set of people, working hard, playing harder, making a name for ourselves that none of us saw coming, one that has stuck even now that we’re older and wiser. It’s a rarity to see any of us coming and going from a club. Having a new woman on our arm each night has long since come to an end for any event. That sayingyoung, dumb, and full of cum, we were that. Money was coming in waves, investments were paying off. We all saved and were smart when it came to certain areas of our lives, except for partying.
“Where to?” I ask Nessa once we’re both in the back seat and the door of the ordered car is closed, a service we usually only use for our company. I justified it with tonight being a work event, having no idea the vixen sitting next to me would rock my world.
“West 38th and 11th Street.” The driver nods, then he’s pulling out of the loading zone. I watch Nessa as she allows herself to relax, head tipping back on the headrest, eyes closing, allowing me to get my fill of her. Her hair that was in some kind of low sideswept style has loosened, spilling out. My hand itches to finish the job, to feel my hands tunneling through it as I lift her head, lips meeting hers and kissing her for the first time. An instance I’d like to happen tonight. It won’t, though, not yet. It’s too soon, and I’m not trying to scare her off before I even have her. The rise and fall of her chest has me thinking she’s fallen asleep, a fact Ezra would laugh about if he knew that I’ve stunned her into slumber by not conversing with her. The joke is on him. There’s something to be said about the stillness, not feeling the need to have a mundane conversation, knowing what someone is saying without speaking. My gaze follows the length of her body, only stopping when I realize the slit of her dress has now risen up to her upper thigh. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My cock has other ideas. It wants me to move Nessa until she’s straddling my waist.
“Are you okay over there?” The woman beside me stops what was about to be a full-blown fantasy that had the potential to come to life.
“I am. I assumed you fell asleep.” The ride to her place isn’t long in terms of mileage; it’s the traffic in New York that slows you down. A problem I usually have, especially when I’m heading into the office on any given day. Tonight, that isn’t the case. We’ll be making it to her place entirely too fast for my liking.
“Nope, just resting my eyes. The last two hours have gotten to me, not to mention today has been a day of non-stop going. I’ll be glad when I’m in my bed, the blackout curtains closed as I sleep my Sunday away.” Just when I thought I could get my semi-hard cock to calm down, she has to involve a bed. I don’t respond, watching as she lifts her head, hands doing what I only wished mine were doing only moments ago as her delicate fingers pluck the pins out, one by one as the chocolate strands fall down, the soft curls blocking my view from her tight pebbled nipples now.
“I didn’t realize you were the one running the charity event tonight. Congratulations. I’m told it did amazing and that all the proceeds go towards the organization.” I recall Ezra nearly biting my head off with my pessimistic attitude towards tonight. It’s why I’m usually the last one they’ll have do press events or a charity event. The last thing we need is negative publicity, and my penchant for calling it like it is isn’t always welcome.
“Thank you. I can’t take all the credit. My mother is the ringleader, along with many others. The date portion was my idea, though.” The blush I saw earlier tonight tinges her cheeks once again.
“I’d say it was successful. There were plenty of open wallets at the ready.” There was no way I was going to let Vanessa be taken advantage of by some old stodgy fucker. The thought of her on a date with the other bidder has me clenching my fists.
“Well, judging by my numbers, next year, we’ll know what to do more and less of. I’m afraid spa vacations as well as artwork are going to be out of the picture.” She puts the pins from her hair into her bag, probably the biggest one a woman could choose without it being called luggage.
“A travesty among women and men, I’m sure.” The tone in my voice is sarcastic. Spending money on art that will one day become valuable isn’t my idea of smart spending; it’s more of a gamble. Unless, of course, it’s a piece that already holds value.
“A pity, really,” she plays into my words, a smirk on her face. My hand that was fisted has loosened. We both have turned toward each other, and I can feel the warmth radiating off her body.
“Hmm.” My finger glides along the flesh of her leg, unable to resist the alluring temptation. I watch her eyes the entire time, reading her body language to see if I’m taking things too far too soon.
“Parker.” There’s soft subtle tone to her voice, one I’m going to want to hear in more than one way. I stop myself from traveling further up her thigh. That doesn’t mean I’m blind. The way her slit is hiked to her hip, I’d bet another hundred thousand she’s bare beneath the white fabric of her dress.