I swallowed. “I don’t recall stuttering.”
He raised his eyebrow. “For your sake, it would be much better if you had.”
“Seeing as though I can’t quit and you clearly won’t fire me, I don’t see how.” I stepped back, and he stepped forward, and within seconds, I was up against the wall. “I think the only thing you’re upset about is me being rude to you in front of your executive team.”
“I’m upset about a lot of things,” he said, clenching his jaw. “And I’m not going to tolerate them anymore.”
“Then accept my two weeks’ notice.”
“Miss Lauren,” he said, speaking slowly and ignoring my comment. “I’m going to give you one last chance to redo this presentation today, and when I do—”
“I’ll say the same thing, in the same way, if you interrupt me again.”
“I am going to interrupt you again, especially if you come off like the ungrateful assistant I haven’t been more than generous with for two years. An ungrateful assistant who hates her job so much, yet she keeps showing up every day.”
“She’s legally bound to do so.”
“She’s not personally bound to do so.”
Before I could get another word out, his lips crashed into mine, and my arms went around his neck. He slid his hands around my thighs and lifted me up, carrying me to the conference table. My ass hit the cold surface when he set me down, and he kept his lips attached to mine.
Our kiss was wild and frantic, passionate and reckless. As his hand slid up my dress, I slowly unfastened his tie. I tried to unbutton his shirt next, but he pushed me down against the table, so my back was pressed against the glass, so he was standing between my legs.
Bending down over me to claim my mouth again, his tongue danced circles against mine. He slid his hands over my stomach, letting his fingers wander down to my panties.
“I prefer when you don’t wear these.” He ripped them off and slipped two fingers inside of me.
“Ahhh …” I moaned as he pushed them deeper, slowly toying with my pleasure by testing how far they could go.
“You fucking hate me?” he whispered.
“Yes …” My voice was hoarse. “Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“One hundred percent.”
He pulled his fingers out of me and bit my bottom lip. Hard.
Glaring at me, he slid his hands against my sides and spread my legs, pinning down my thighs to the table. “I want you to tell me how much you hate me after I’m done eating your pussy.” He buried his face against my pussy and flicked his tongue against my clit.
My hips bucked against his mouth as he darted his tongue faster, and I couldn’t hold back my moans if I tried.
I grabbed his hair, gripping the strands in utter shock and pleasure. I cried out for him to slow down, but his tongue only moved faster. Sucking my clit into his mouth, he twirled his tongue in a steady, sensuous rhythm that made my toes curl.
Groaning, he kissed my pussy like he kissed my mouth, dominating every move and devouring my lips without restraint.
“Ohhh. Oh, God …” My back arched off the glass, and my pussy throbbed against his mouth. “Please … Slow … Slow down.”
He refused. Instead, he slipped two of his fingers inside of me again—pushing me closer to the edge with two separate rhythms.
My clit swelled against his lips, and I tried to fight the tremors that were building inside of me, but it was no use. As he continued his kisses, the tremors tripled in force, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I screamed loudly as orgasm after orgasm wracked through my body. “Shit …”
I thought that he would stop—give me a chance to recover, but he lifted my right leg and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he bent low once more, devouring me all over again.
A soft knock came to the door as I was mid-bliss, but Preston continued sucking on my clit, shushing me in between breaths.
The knock came harder the next time, accompanied with a deep, “It’s important, Mr. Parker.”
“Give me one second.” He tore his mouth away from my clit, glaring at me like before. Stepping back, he helped me off the table and readjusted my dress and smoothed my hair before addressing himself.
Looking me over one last time, he walked to the door and opened it.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Mr. Parker, you have an emergency call. I’ve told them to hold on twice, but they say it can’t wait.”
“I’ll be right there.” He shut the door again and walked over to me, pushing a few stray hairs into place.
“We need to finish this,” he said, trailing his finger against my chest. “Stay here.”
I waited an entire hour, and he never came back. He only sent me an email.
* * *
Subject: London Trip.
Miss Lauren,
Something unfortunate has come up, so you’ll need to go on the trip without me.
Your presentation was stellar. (The one between your legs, that is. The one about this next business deal still needs work.)
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner, Parker International
Eighteen
Preston
I rushed to my office and damn near turned around once I saw who was sitting in front of my desk. It was Mr. and Mrs. Von Strum, who, true to form, instead of staying in London to meet me, had to play games and meet me here first.
I knew this shit wasn’t an emergency.
I contemplated calling Tara in here for this. She was far better at dealing with people’s mind games and keeping a straight face. Then again, the quicker I got this over with, the quicker I could return to her in the boardroom.
“Good afternoon.” I held back a groan as I took a seat behind my desk. “What’s the emergency?”
“We wanted to let you know that regardless of the London meeting we have lined up for this weekend, we’re still not sold on this deal,” Mr. Von Strum said.
“Do they not have telephones in London?” I asked. “You could’ve called.”
“We prefer the personal approach,” he said. “We’re just not sure that you’re the right guy to hand our brand over to.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re a heartless asshole,” his wife hissed. “If we cracked your chest open right now, I’m sure we’d find a wallet instead of a heart.”
“Do you think the wallet would be an Armani or a Gucci?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and her husband clasped her hand. “We just want to make sure that you won’t turn our brand into an extended chain of your gaudy, overpriced resorts.”
“I’ll be turning your cheap, family brand into a five-star luxury resort with budget-friendly amenities. There’s nothing gaudy or overpriced about any of my hotels.”
“You charge twelve dollars for a bottle of water in the guest rooms.”
“Because we fly it in from Fiji.” I clenched my jaw. “That shit isn’t free.”
“Yes, well—” Mr. Von Strum took off his reading glasses. “I’ve never noticed a true difference in the taste. All bottled waters have always tasted the same to me. However, if we ever do get to the final deal table with you, we want you to keep all of our employees, and we want them to keep their benefit packages. We also want—”