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GRATIFICATION (Desire Never Dies) Page 5
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Rod leaned back against the leather seat of his Mercedes, convinced now more than ever this was the right course of action. He needed to settle this matter while ruffling the least amount of feathers necessary. He’d worked too hard to get where he was. And there was no way in hell he was going to let Preston screw things up for him, client or not. Buddy or not. Besides, Andy Clarke, if dealt with the right way, could be an excellent source of business deals. Why the hell should he blow that?
His mind was working now. If he could somehow get both Preston and Andy Clarke lined up as clients, a cover story in The Wall Street Journal or Business Insider Weekly could be a real possibility. All he needed was one really big case to give him the exposure of an F. Lee Bailey or a Johnnie Cochran, and he’d be raking in millions. Hell, he thought bitterly, his father might even remember he existed then.
He wanted that top spot on the ladder so much he could taste it. And he would have it.
He checked his watch and noticed, with some irritation, Taralynn was already more than five minutes late. He’d wanted her to be early. He’d wanted complete control of the situation when he met with her. Instead, she was trying to take control by refusing to show up on time. He took a deep breath and reminded himself he needed to be relaxed and charming. He needed to make her do what he wanted.
He heard a door shut and was relieved to see Taralynn making her way to his car. Finally.
A sly smile inhabited her face. He noted with satisfaction she’d dressed in a strapless, black silk mini dress, styled with a flowing skirt he could slide without effort up her legs, making it easy for him to have her in the car. Or any other exhibitionist place he could think of. He smiled as she slid into the passenger seat beside him. “Taralynn, you look absolutely perfect.”
Her smile widened. “You have no idea just how perfect I am, sweetie. But if you’re a really good boy tonight, you just might find out.”
Oh, he’d find out all right. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was get women to spread their legs for him. He watched his mate for the evening tuck her hair behind her ear. She licked her lips, doing so only slightly to make the act seem more subtle.
He responded to her in all the right ways. He could already taste the breasts spilling out of the top of her dress. He half wished he could dispense with all the bullshit of taking her out for the evening. Taralynn, however, would never put up with anything less than being thoroughly entertained before being fucked.
Entertainment, of course, was a matter of opinion. And tonight, his opinion would be the one that mattered. He took her to a local goth dance club, where the clientele dressed mainly in black leather and most of them majored in tattooing and body piercing. The club was called The Dungeon and was located in a part of greater Miami he was willing to bet she didn’t see too often.
As they stepped inside, she scanned the décor of dark paint with random swaths of psychedelic colors splashed over the walls under neon lights and winced. Machines blew a thick smoke throughout the bar and the dance floor was roped off in chain-link fencing. Strobe lights bounced and ricocheted off everything around them in a blinding frenzy. The pattern seemed to match the overpowering beat and volume of the music. The bar was packed. Much to Rod’s delight, Taralynn clung to his arm like a scared child.
“What kind of a place is this?” she asked. “Purgatory?”
He cocked his most wicked grin on his face. “That’s a distinct possibility. But just stick with me, and I’ll show you one wild time.”
He started the night off with kamikazes, followed by lemon drops and topped off with a round of blowjobs, his personal favorites. Then he led her out onto the dance floor, where they danced with a thrusting motion of hips and grinding. It didn’t take long before he felt the mixture of drinks and dancing loosen her in his arms. She was malleable now, his to do with as he pleased.
After two dances, he escorted her off the dance floor, grabbed a couple of glasses of ice water from the bar and decided to move in for the kill. As Taralynn giggled, he ushered her over to a sofa in a dimly lit back corner of the club, where he’d reserved a place for them as soon as his plane landed in Miami. The music wasn’t loud back here, so conversation would actually be possible, and the only lighting came from a stained glass lamp several feet off to the side of the sofa, so discretion would also be possible. The sofa itself was just big enough for the two of them and the cushions were wide and over-stuffed.
Taralynn’s body slid easily next to his. Perfect, Rod thought. His dick already throbbed like a son-of-a-bitch. “I need you to do something for me,” he said, sliding his arm over her shoulder.
She cozied up next to him and whispered into his ear. “Why, you’ve got me so worked up, Rod, I think you could persuade me to do almost anything.”
“Good.” He had the little bitch exactly where he wanted her. “I need you to take off your panties.”
“What?”
Even in the dark he could see her stunned expression. “Take off your panties,” he repeated. He didn’t like her questioning him. “I want to put my hand under your dress.”
“Rod! I don’t believe-”
He leaned over and kissed her before she could finish refusing. Taralynn melted at once, meeting his lips with her tongue and heaving her shapely bosom forward. He immediately slipped his hand under the silky material of her dress and touched an equally silky pair of panties. While maintaining their kiss, he slid his hand around to her backside and noted with satisfaction she wore the thong variety of undergarment. He grabbed hold of the elastic waistband and slid the panties down to her knees.
“Rod,” she said. But nothing more, and without conviction.
Yeah. She definitely wanted it. He finished sliding her panties down her legs until they hung around her ankles. His dick was as hard as a slab of concrete. “Now,” he instructed. “I wanted you to stand up and kick off your panties. And then stand directly in front of me.”
Taralynn’s breath came in little pants. “Why?”
As if she didn’t know the answer to that. He squeezed the tit nearest his hand. “Because I want you to. Trust me, doll. You’ll be extremely glad you did.”
She cast him a mischievous grin, and finally did as requested. Rod took a moment to survey her backside. She had nice legs, though not as long and lean as Maggie McKenzie’s. And her ass was nice and tight. She obviously worked out. He could see from the skimpy cut of her dress her skin was fine and unblemished. Hell, he wouldn’t mind fucking her for a while.
He quickly undid the zipper to his pants and released his throbbing shaft of flesh. “You are my little ray of Florida sunshine, aren’t you, honey? Now, I want you to sit down on my lap. Slowly.”
This time she didn’t hesitate or play games asking stupid questions. She just sat down. As she moved, he caught her by the hips and guided her right to his dick. He sank himself into her in one fluid, solid motion. Taralynn gasped and then groaned. A moment later, her hips were moving discretely over top of him. He tightened his grip on her. “I told you you’d be glad you did.”
She sighed. “You weren’t kidding, either, were you, stud? This may be the most exciting sex I’ve had in my entire life.”
He continued thrusting into her until her quick breathing turned rapid. “You’re going to do something for me,” he said. She continued moving, a soft moan escaping her throat. He continued on. “You’re going to forget all about Preston, and you’re only going to remember me.”
“Mmmm Hmmm,” she agreed. “Who’s Preston?”
“Good.” He stroked the side of her hair. Step one complete.
“Actually,” Taralynn said, “I’m glad Preston didn’t ask me to marry me. Because after tonight, I can see you’re the man who deserves that favor.”
And Preston thought it was a bad idea. In his mind, he savored a secret victory over Preston. Now that she’d said the word, however, the reality of marriage to Taralynn got him thinking. He wondered first whether she really meant it
. Or, was she merely toying with him, as he was with her? Who proposed marriage on the very first date? She could very well have her own agenda at play.
While Taralynn continued moving up and down on him, he wondered just how difficult and demanding she could really be. Would she live up to the reputation she’d earned? Numerous tabloid stories existed regarding her temper tantrums, thrown whenever her lover of the moment hadn’t acquiesced to one demand or another. Her reputation was that of a spoiled, selfish brat, beyond any man’s control. There wouldn’t be much use in marrying her if he couldn’t control her. He calculated her possible financial benefit to him, all the while enjoying her juicy heat. There was no question Daddy would insist on a prenup, so divorce may not leave him any better off than when he started. Was it too soon to ask about that? Probably. And a divorce would also mean making enemies of Taralynn and Andy Clarke. Definitely not to his financial advantage.
That left only the ability to add to his financial status through convincing her to let him take control of her investments, and skimming some off the top. Or better yet, having her invest in shell companies he set up and then scooping out the profits and dissolving them before anyone could be the wiser. On paper just another financial loss to write off at tax time.
That sort of thing, however, required he have control over her. And control was something Taralynn, like her father, was famous for not yielding. He’d need to investigate the situation further and find out if there was any chance of really making any money on the deal. Otherwise, what would be the point? Even with all her money, there damn sure wouldn’t be any point in marrying a woman he couldn’t control. If he couldn’t control her, he could never control her money. And without the money, he damn sure would never marry her.
Still, he didn’t object to her marriage idea when she brought it up. He just kept fucking her. Making a firm decision on the plan could be dealt with later. He felt her start to move away from him and pushed down firmly on her hips. Thrusting hard and fast, he released himself inside her, and then sat her over on the couch so she wouldn’t drip on his five hundred dollar slacks.
Taralynn took a deep breath and then looked over at him, smiling. “I meant what I said, Rod. If you take care of me like this on a regular basis, I will marry you. And if you think your career’s doing well now, just wait until you have billions to play with.”
Billions? Was she serious, or just trying to play him? He didn’t know whether to laugh in victory or run like hell. For now, he just smiled and nodded. “I think we make a good pair, babe.”
“But, I need to know I can trust you, Rod.” She reached out and traced his lips with her index finger. “I need to know you’re going to be on my side in this little fight with Preston. And I’m going to need a little inside information as a token of good faith.”
So Daddy wasn’t going to forget about buying his company even if his baby girl had a wedding to plan. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d first thought. His mind raced for some insignificant detail he could give her that would still sound important. Then he remembered his dislike for Preston’s idea to blackmail Andy, and his worry it could somehow come back to bite him in the ass, and he settled on that. Since he didn’t want to go that route anyway, it wouldn’t matter if he told Taralynn about it. “How about Preston’s defense strategy?” he asked. “Would that be an important enough tidbit for you?”
She positively purred. “I think that would be perfect, Rod, darling. What is Preston’s defense strategy?”
“He managed to find out about your father’s teen-age mistress, your next-door neighbor, Regina Mance, and he plans on blackmailing your father into dropping the tender offer, or risk the press getting wind of his affair.”
“Rod! Hi. I sure never expected to run into you here.”
The shout from across the room startled him. To his dismay, he looked up and saw Maggie McKenzie’s friend Tracy approaching.
“Christ!” He stood quickly and stepped away from Taralynn. “That’s a friend of Maggie McKenzie’s heading over here, babe. You’re going to have to make yourself scarce for a few minutes while I get rid of her.”
Chapter 12
Preston paced his darkened hotel room. He was so angry with himself he could scream. He had actually made that stupid accusation about Maggie being jealous of Elise. What a stupid thing to do! What the hell was he thinking?
And Maggie had left him with his manhood sticking up like a rocket ship ready to blast off. Only his rocket ship had nowhere to blast off to. She had let him kiss her! That was the hell of it. She had let down her barriers and molded her body next to his. She had parted her lips and let him taste the sweetness of her kiss. And then she’d jerked away like she’d hit the bottom of a bungee jump. He’d tried pulling her back into his arms for a third kiss, but her particular bungee cord didn’t spring back, it contracted. Completely. She’d even had the nerve to look angry. As if she’d been violated or something.
He’d never figure her out. Everything had seemed so perfect three years ago. He’d been so happy anticipating their upcoming nuptials. Just the thought of spending the rest of his life with her had left him giddy as a schoolboy. He’d loved her. Loved her like nothing else he’d ever experienced before.
It had been so easy to give his heart to her, and he gave it to her completely and focused on nothing but running and expanding the company for them, so they would have a wonderful future together. So he could give her a life as perfect as the one his father had given his mother. Finding out less than two months before their wedding date she was leaving had hit him like a shock wave. And he couldn’t even get her to tell him why. She just kept telling him she wasn’t the number one priority in his life. Was she kidding? He had done nothing but work for her and for their future from the first time he’d realized he loved her.
He thought back to the time he’d first thought about marrying her. It was ten years ago, at the coming out party her father had thrown for her sixteenth birthday. He’d just graduated from Harvard, and was ready to take on the world. That day had been perfect. She had been perfect. She laughed and smiled and talked small talk with all the guests, charming everyone she met. Charming him most of all. She lived in Palm Beach then. Her front yard faced the ocean and spanned two acres with manicured lawns where islands of flowerbeds grew roses and azaleas and hibiscus trees. That night, she wore a long white gown made of silk and embroidered with delicate, tiny flowers. She wore a wreath of flowers in her long black hair. Lily of the valley. And her smile never left her face. His heart had dropped to his chest the moment he saw her, and he’d rushed right over.
“I can hardly believe you’re the same girl whose pigtails I used to pull,” he’d said.
She’d laughed and smiled at him. “I could put the pigtails back in my hair and see if that helps your memory any.”
He shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
She looked him over carefully then, as if trying to decide if he was serious or not. “Really?”
“Really. You are absolutely perfect.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I see it in your eyes.”
“What do you see in my eyes?”
She had her eyes trained on him then, knowing eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe in their gaze. “You’re smarter than almost everyone you meet,” he said. “But you don’t hold that over people. You graciously let them think they’re on your level. You make people feel good when they’re with you.”
“Well, that’s quite a compliment coming from a Harvard graduate. Is that something they teach you in college? How to be charming?”
“No. I’ve had to learn that lesson on my own.”
They’d both started laughing then, and he’d felt the warm glow of love settle inside him. He thought of a new beginning in their relationship. One that didn’t include pulling her pigtails.
He pushed the memories away, thinking he’d gone over the d
emise of his relationship with Maggie enough times he should well have come to terms with it by now. So what was the problem?
Even though it was only eight at night, he was about to climb into bed and call it a night when the phone rang. “Hello,” he said.
The voice on the other end of the line surprised him.
“Preston,” Nicholas Beck greeted. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but I think now might be a good time to catch up. Got a minute?”
“Not really,” he said tersely. He’d never had much use for his former brother-in-law. His older sister, Janelle, had married Nick against their father’s strenuous objections. Warren Tyler had considered tabloid publishing a sleazy, unseemly affair that jeopardized the family’s good name, and Nick had responded by having as little to do with the Tyler clan as possible, and by behaving with a distant surliness on those occasions when being in their company was unavoidable. Three years later they’d divorced and Janelle had blamed her father, so that Warren Tyler had died still asking Preston to go get Janelle for him. The memories of his father, a sixty-year old man in tears on his deathbed, still broke Preston’s heart, and justified or not, he still blamed Nick.
Nick cleared his throat on the other end of the phone. “You should consider this a courtesy call, Preston.”
There was no mistaking the meaning behind his former brother-in-law’s words. Preston tensed. “Should I assume this call has something to do with a story you’re working on?”