Mischief in Miami (Great Exploitations #1)(10)
Author: Nicole Williams

I was about to step my first foot out into the hall when his hand grabbed mine. He gave it a tug and whipped me back inside of the room. “Natasha. Leave,” he ordered, inclining his head toward the door.

“Excuse me?” Natasha replied in an outraged tone with a thick European accent.

“Precisely.” Daniel threw her an irritated look. “You’re excused.”

She made a disgusted noise before grabbing her purse and storming for the door. “Un-f**king-believable,” she said, glaring at him in a way that gave new meaning to the term glaring daggers. “When you’re finished with him trying and failing to satisfy you, come find me,” Natasha said, dropping her hand on my arm. “A woman knows what a woman wants.” Then, she blew me an air kiss, flashed her middle finger in Daniel’s face, and marched out into the hallway.

Daniel slammed the door. “Alone at last. I hope you’re happy,” he said, giving me an expectant look. “You’d better make this good.”

One hurdle down, one more to go. Fifteen minutes to go, and I’d never have to see Daniel Silva again. Ten if I moved fast. “If you didn’t believe I would, you wouldn’t have kicked her out.”

Daniel’s face shifted into a smirk. “True. So show me just how good you are.”

Planning on it.

When he stopped in front of me, I moved for his zipper. I gave it a hard tug, eliciting a surprised exhalation from him, followed by a grin. He didn’t want to waste time either.

I slid my hand inside of his pants until I had a firm grip on him. His chest was rising and falling before I did anything else. I lowered my grip down him, swiveling and tightening, before gliding back up in a quicker, looser motion. When I repeated the motion, a deep groan vibrated up Daniel’s chest. After two more pumps, his pupils were dilated, and his face was lined in a familiar way. When I swiveled down again, I rested a couple of fingers lower. From the feel of it, he was about to come in my hand.

I knew how to touch a man to make him fall apart in less than ten seconds, but I hadn’t been employing anywhere near my A-game with Daniel. Somebody had an issue with premature ejaculation, which actually fit with what I knew of him.

“How’s that for good?” I whispered as I freed my hand.

“Damn,” he breathed, giving his head a clearing shake. “Where did you learn that?”

“My sorority back in college. There was a competition to see which sorority gave the best handjobs, and we took the challenge seriously.” I lied, since the truth would have ruined the whole mood.

“Obviously. Any other skills you picked up in college I might be interested in?” From the look on his face, he was about to throw me down on the carpet right then and there. That wouldn’t work.

I pointed with my eyes at the dark bedroom behind him. “Why don’t you go strip down, lie down, and I’ll give you a live demonstration?”

“My God,” he said, already yanking on his tie, “I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you.”

What a compliment (insert sarcasm here).

Once he’d disappeared into the bedroom, I rushed to the door, unlocked it, and opened it just a hair. After a quick time check, I allowed myself a smile. I’d timed it almost to the minute. If someone wasn’t waiting out in the hall, the night would be all for nothing.

As I headed for the bedroom, I grabbed my clutch and unsnapped it. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I found an eager, very eager, and nak*d Daniel Silva spread out on the bed. There was no denying he had a nice body, but even though the exterior was beautiful, the interior wasn’t. It was ugly, and knowing that made enjoying the exterior impossible.

“Well, here I am,” he said, motioning down at his torso. “Ready and rock hard. Why don’t you get over here and help me out with that?”

I reached for the zipper at the back of my dress and lowered it. Daniel leaned up on his elbows, his eyes flashing. Sliding each arm out, I shimmied the dress down my chest and over my h*ps until it was rumpled in a heap on the floor.

“There’s a special place in heaven for women who don’t wear underwear,” he said, wetting his lips as his eyes skimmed me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And there’s a special place in hell for the men that f**k with them.”

He grabbed a condom off of the nightstand, tore the package open, and rolled the condom down his length as though he’d done it a million times. He probably had. “Since it doesn’t sound like you and I will spend our hereafters in the same place, we’d better make up for it right now.”

I crawled up the bed toward him. “No more talking,” I ordered, straddling him until I felt his dick twitching below me. “Just screwing.”

“With a mouth like that, I’d rather have you talk dirty the whole time,” he said as his hands affixed to my hips. He tried to lower my body over him, but I didn’t let him. Maintaining control was the only way I managed to get through it.

Reaching for my clutch at the foot of the bed, I slid the silk scarf out. Daniel froze for a moment when I held it in front of his face, so I lowered myself until I felt him just barely inside of me.

A rush of air escaped his lips.

“It will make what I’m about to do to you more intense,” I whispered as I wrapped the dark scarf around his eyes. Plus, it makes it impossible for you to see a camera flash go off from the other room.

He shook his head as I tied a knot at the back of it. “No. I want to see you. I want to see those f**king perfect tits bouncing.”

He was fighting it more than the others. I didn’t blindfold every Target, circumstance didn’t always require it, but I couldn’t risk Daniel seeing anything, or anyone.

Emptying my mind, I lowered the rest of the way onto him. Whatever protest was on Daniel’s lips was lost when I arched my back and slid back up his length.

“Convinced?” I whispered outside of his ear as I lowered myself again, agonizingly slow.

Daniel was mid-growl when I detected the slightest noise from the sitting room. I checked our angle to make sure the camera would catch Daniel’s face and exactly what we were doing before I moved up and down him in deep, quick spurts.

He was past the point of words. I’d never known a man who wasn’t when an Eve was astride him and implementing everything she’d learned. Words were for men whose women didn’t know how to send them over the edge in one precise thrust.

Daniel’s hands roamed up my body until they gripped my shoulders. Bracing himself, he pounded harder as he bent me forward. He might have been blindfolded, but he had no problem finding my nipple. Sucking it hard, his tongue played with it, circling and teasing until I had a sudden flash of pleasure.

And then the man moving below me, moving inside of me wasn’t Daniel Silva. A different mouth was tasting me, different arms were holding me tight, a different body was taking and having mine.

When I realized whose face I was visualizing, I cried out. Daniel misunderstood my cries because his pace picked up yet again. When his teeth sunk into my nipple, I cried out again, willing my mind to empty. I hadn’t let him inside of my defenses in so long. It had been so long I’d almost forgotten the way his touch felt.

It hadn’t been long enough.

When Daniel’s mouth moved just outside of my ear, his breath impossibly fast as it kept pace with his thrusting, I involuntarily replaced his sounds with another’s. He’d sounded so similar, that low, vibrating rattle in his chest when he was ready to fall apart in my arms.

I whimpered again right before Daniel hit his cli**x. Now this, the rutting and deep growl wasn’t the same. His was different enough for me to shove that face out of my head and remember who I was with and what I was doing. Never before when I’d emptied my head had that face from my past found its way into the vacancy, but after it had, I was terrified it would happen again. I couldn’t allow that. I’d rather be present and feeling and experiencing everything with the Target than have a replay of what had just happened.

As the aftershocks of his orgasm ripped through Daniel’s body, his arms fell to the sides. That was also different, making resurfacing from the nightmare I’d just found myself in easier. The arms from my past would hold me tight and never let go until both of us had fallen into a deep, satisfied sleep.

“You are good,” he said between short breaths. “In fact, the best f**k I’ve ever had.”

That’s because I was trained by the best.

“I’d give my whole fortune for that kind of a screw,” he said.

You only have to give half. What a bargain.

I checked over my shoulder to make sure it was all clear before untying the blindfold. Daniel blinked a few times as an ear-to-ear grin settled on his face.

“Did you get off, babe?”

I smiled to myself as I climbed off of him and the bed. I zipped into my dress, slid into my heels, and stuffed the blindfold back into my clutch as quickly as he’d rolled on a condom. He was an expert at getting off; I was an expert at getting up and getting out.

I examined him spread out and spent on the bed. Thirty seconds after orgasm, and he was still hard. “Oh, believe me, I got off big time. Babe,” I tacked on.

As I headed out of the room, he said, “So, I’ll see you around?”

I rolled my eyes. The same line guys used in high school was just as overused twenty years later. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of me around in the future.”

Also known as blown-up black and white photos on display in divorce court. Time to figure out how to do more with less, Mr. Silva, because your wife’s about to take you to the bank.

Before I headed out of the door, I grabbed my wayfarers from my clutch and slid them into position. That was my post-game tradition. My victory dance. I slid those glasses on, and I was someone else. A girl who didn’t just sleep with husbands because their wives commissioned her to. I was a girl setting another girl free. I was a girl channeling my need for revenge on a worthy cause. I was a girl who’d closed an Errand and was that much closer to my own freedom.

The Sweet

IF I COULD give an accurate snapshot of a man based on his drink, what did mine say about me?

I slid onto the barstool of some crummy bar a few blocks off the beach and ignored the way the bartender eyed me. “Give me a shot of the cheapest stuff you have on the shelf.”

The bartender gave me a funny look and took a second glance at my designer clutch, then my dime-sized diamond studs. I gave him a look even though he couldn’t see my eyes behind my sunglasses. “Glass,” I said, pointing at the tower of them behind him. “Bottle.” I waved my finger around the large jugs on the bottom shelf, guessing those were as cheap as cheap got. “Pour.” I mimed it for him. He still wasn’t moving. “Questions?”

Finally, muscled, shaved-head meathead with a shirt so tight I guessed it cut off the circulation to his brain chuckled. “You didn’t say the magic word.”

Did every man on the face of the planet have to be a total dickhead? In my line of work, you didn’t ask that question unless you wanted to find yourself on an impressive cocktail of anti-depressants.