Naked: The Blackstone Affair, Book 1

Waterloo Bridge grounded me the next morning. I came home to the heavenly smell of coffee started by my roommate. I passed Gaby a half hour later on my way out the door to class.

“You going to the Mallerton exhibition on the tenth?” she asked.

“I want to. I’m conserving one of his right now, called Lady Percival. I was hoping to find out a little more about the provenance on her. She’s had some heat damage, and it’s melted the lacquer over the title of the book she’s holding. I really want to know what that book is. Like a secret I need to discover.”

“Yay!” She clapped and did a little bounce. “It’s his birthday exhibit.”

I pretended to count on my fingers. “Let’s see, Sir Tristan would be two hundred twenty-eight?”

“Two hundred twenty-seven, to be exact.” Gabrielle was deep into her dissertation on Romanticist painter Tristan Mallerton, so when there was anything doing with him she was first in line with tickets.

“Okay, off by one year. That’s not too bad.”

She smiled wide, revealing perfect white teeth and full lips that made me wonder why she wasn’t the model. The reddish glints in her dark hair, combined with her barely olive complexion, made her look exotic. Men were always tripping over my roommate, but she wanted nothing to do with them. A lot like me, I thought. Until Ethan came along and upset my cozy existence.

“Let’s plan to go together—make a night of it. I want a new dress, though. You wanna set up a shopping expedition too?” Gaby looked and sounded too damn excited for me to say no.

“Sounds excellent, Gab. I need some distractions from my suddenly more complicated life.” I tilted my head and mouthed the word “Ethan.”

Gaby gave me the once-over and crossed her arms. “What happened with you two?”

“He wants a relationship. Like a real one where we sleep over and cook dinner and watch TV.”

“And lots and lots of hot orgasmic sex,” Gaby added and then held out her arms to me. “Come here. You look like you need a hug.”

I went into her embrace and held on tightly to my friend. “I’m scared, Gab,” I whispered at her ear.

“I know, sweetie. But I’ve seen you with him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. Maybe this is the big one. You won’t know unless you try.” She touched my face. “I’m happy for you, and I think you’ve got to go with a little leap of faith here. So far Mr. Blackstone is on my good list. If that should change or if he hurts one smooth hair on your innocent head, then his pretty-boy balls are gonna be transformed into a set of Klik-Klaks. And please tell him I said that.”

“God, I love you, woman!” I laughed and headed off to class, thinking about how I would break the news to Ethan.

Three hours later he sent a text: Ethan Blackstone:

I smiled as I read the words. He missed me and he wasn’t afraid to say it. Ethan’s direct approach did wonders toward calming my nerves and fears about a relationship together, I must admit. I gathered my resolve and replied: Brynne Bennett:

My phone lit up almost immediately with an emphatic YES, along with instructions of where to go, elevator to take, plans to feed me lunch—typical modus operandi for my Ethan. That made me smile too. Did I just say my Ethan? I so did, I realized as I ducked into the Underground station and began descending stairs.

I wanted to stop at a pharmacy to get my new prescription filled along the way, so I hopped off the Tube two stations later. Heading back up to the street, I entered a Boots and dropped off the prescription. I grabbed a shopping basket and browsed while I waited for the pharmacist to fill it. An idea formed in my mind and I went with it, plucking items from the shelves and dropping them into my basket.

In the checkout line to pay, I noticed a big guy behind me waiting with his lone bottle of water. Well, I really noticed his tattoo. He had a beauty on the inside of his forearm—a perfect rendition of Jimi Hendrix’s signature, the big swirl of the J as clear as if Jimi had scrawled it himself. “Nice tat,” I said to him, noticing how really huge he was. At least six five, solid muscle, with spiked white-blond hair and a face that exuded confidence—this was a guy you did not mess with.

“Thank you.” His nearly black eyes softened just a bit and he asked, “Are you a fan?”

His British accent soothed me for some reason, again totally at odds with his physical appearance. “Massive fan,” I answered with a smile before heading out to get back on the Tube.

I plugged into my iPod on the train. Might as well listen to some Jimi and think about what to tell Ethan when I saw him.

Blackstone Security was in Bishopsgate at the center of old London with all of the other modern skyscrapers. Somehow this was not a surprise to me as I tried to picture Ethan behind a desk—in a sexy suit—and smelling delicious. I exited the Tube at the Liverpool Street station and started up the stairs to the sidewalk. I stumbled on a crack in the concrete step and grasped for the handrail. My knees were spared but my shopping bag dumped out, contents scattering. I muttered a curse as I turned to bend down to retrieve everything and faced the same guy I’d seen in line at Boots with the Hendrix tat.

He efficiently helped me with my stuff and handed the bag to me. “Watch your step,” he said softly and continued on up the stairs.

“Thank you,” I called to his retreating back, where muscles rippled under a black dress shirt. I’d barely made it out to the sidewalk when my phone started buzzing: Ethan Blackstone:

I had to smile at his attention to detail . . . like time allotments. I sent back: Brynne Bennett:

The marquee in the lobby listed Blackstone Security International on floors forty through forty-four, but Ethan had told me to find him on the forty-fourth. I walked up to security and gave my name. The guard smiled slightly and handed me a pen to sign in. “Mr. Blackstone is expecting you, Miss Bennett. If you’ll just step this way, I’ll create your badge so you may just scan through on future visits.”

“Oh . . . all right.” I let the man do his job, and within minutes I was gliding up to the forty-fourth floor sporting my own Blackstone Security ID badge. My heart pounded a little faster the closer I got to my destination. I swallowed a few times and rearranged my black leather jacket. The black skirt and red boots paired with it were not slum wear by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t dressed for a business office either. I felt suddenly self-conscious and hoped people didn’t stare at me. I hate that.

With my purse on my shoulder and my Boots shopping bag in my hand I stepped out of the elevator and walked into a very sleek and artfully designed space. There were framed black-and-white photographs of architectural wonders from all over the world on the walls, big glass windows looking out over the city, and a very pretty redhead behind the desk.

“Brynne Bennett here to see Mr. Blackstone.”

She looked me over thoroughly before getting up from her desk. “Oh he’s expecting you, Miss Bennett. I’ll take you back through to his office.” She smiled as she held the door for me. “I hope you like Chinese.”

I followed her and dismissed the comment, not because I didn’t want to answer but because everyone was watching us. Every head at every workstation turned in our direction and stared. I wanted to sink through a crack in the floor and hide. That would be after I killed Ethan. What the hell had he done? Announced in a mass email that his girlfriend was stopping by to give him a blow job in his office? I felt my face heat up as I followed the cute receptionist, who did indeed have an engagement ring on her left hand. I probably noticed only because I refused to look up at all those faces. “Wow, quite a welcome wagon you’ve got here,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry, they’re just curious to see who’s got the boss’s attention is all. I’m Elaina, by the way.”

“Brynne,” I said. She stopped and knocked on a magnificent set of ebony double doors before entering.

“And this is Frances, Mr. Blackstone’s assistant. Frances, Miss Bennett has arrived.”

“Thank you, Elaina,” Frances smiled and addressed me. “Miss Bennett, it is a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand and shook firmly. I wondered if it was very bad to love the fact that Ethan’s personal assistant was probably older than my mother and a fan of polyester suits. My insecurity meter shot down a few notches as I smiled back at Frances. Still, she was kind and confident as the ruler of her domain when she pointed to the second set of doors. “Please go on in, dear. He’s been waiting for you.”

I opened the heavy-looking door that moved so smoothly my pinky could have pushed it, then fled inside to Ethan’s office. I shut the thing and collapsed against it, seeking him with my eyes closed and finding him with my nose.

“That’s right. Keep on with what you’re doing. Yes. I want hourly reports when you’re in the field. Protocol . . .” He was on the phone with somebody. I opened my eyes and watched him from my post against his office door. So confident and beautiful in his dark gray pinstripe. And lo and behold, another purple tie! This one so dark it was nearly black, but man did it look good on him. He ended the call and looked over at me. I felt the door click against my back. He grinned with one eyebrow up. I glared back at him.

“All those people staring at me, Ethan! What did you do, send an email to the whole frickin’ office?”

“Come over here and sit on my lap.” He pushed back from his big desk and made room for me. No reaction to my accusation whatsoever. Just a confident demand out of that beautiful mouth that I come over to him immediately.

Well, I did it. I marched my red boots over to him and plopped down as ordered. He put his arms around me and tugged me into his body for a kiss. It helped my mood considerably.

“I might have let it slip to a few that you were coming to see me.” He pushed a hand up my thigh and under my skirt, his temperature hot to my feeling. “Don’t be mad at me. You took forever to get here, and I had to keep checking up front with Elaina to see if you’d arrived.”

“Ethan, what are you doing?” I murmured against his lips as his hand kept trailing those long fingers toward their destination. He forced my legs to part so he could get up in between them to my pussy.

“Just touching what’s mine, baby.” He traced my folds through the red lace panties I’d worn and then pushed the material aside.

I flexed my muscles in anticipation and panted harder. “How many times did you go out to check for me?”

“Only a few . . . four or five.” His finger found my clit and starting rubbing circles over the now slick bundle of nerves, making me incoherent as usual.

“That’s a lot of times, Ethan . . .” I barely got the words out, I was so captured by the pleasure going on from his magic fingers. I opened my legs a little wider and rode his hand. “The door—”

“—is locked, baby. Don’t think about anything but me and what I’m doing.” Ethan gripped me hard with one hand and captive with the other. There was nothing for me to do but focus on where he was taking me. He switched to his thumb and rubbed a little harder. Two fingers entered on a slick slide and started stroking. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” He slammed his mouth onto mine and claimed that too.

I cried out as I came atop Ethan’s lap with his fingers inside my pussy and his tongue in my mouth, totally overcome and dominated. And very satisfied. He held me firmly, like he was afraid I would try to leave, but he needn’t have worried.

I breathed deeply, the sensations still filtering through my bloodstream as I tried to process his effect on me. I had no self-control around Ethan. None.

I looked at him when I could manage it and got drilled by those incredibly blue eyes of his. “Your hand must be a mess,” I said, knowing what he’d said was true. I was soaking wet.

He grinned naughtily and wiggled his fingers still inside me. “I love precisely where my hand is right now. I wish it was this, though.” He thrust his cock up against my ass, and I didn’t doubt he did. I could feel how hard he was and shivered.

“But—we’re in—it’s your office.”

“I know, but that door is locked and nobody can see in here. We’re totally private.” He nuzzled my neck and whispered, “Just you and me.”

I moved to get off him but he held me firm, a flicker of displeasure crossing his eyes. I tried again and he let me go this time. I slid to the floor to my knees and faced his crotch, my body mostly hidden behind his desk. I put my hands over his erection and pressed. I looked up at him and saw the look of want and desire in his eyes and knew what I needed to do. “Ethan . . . I want to suck—”

“Yes!” It was all the direction I needed. I unbuckled and unzipped and uncovered my prize. God, he had a beautiful penis. Ethan hissed when I took him in hand and licked the tip, loving the salty taste of his flesh. I pulled back and looked some more. This thing had been inside me—a few times—and I’d never really gotten a good look. He was big and hard and smooth as velvet. I stroked him up the length and smiled up at him. He was biting his lip and staring down at me like he could snap in two with the slightest pressure.

“You’re perfect,” I murmured, and then I closed my mouth over him and drew his beautiful pink cock into me. Ethan gripped the chair and thrust to the back of my throat. I worked him good, stroking with my hand and sucking him deep into my mouth. With my tongue, I flicked over the big vein that fed his erection and heard him groan. I didn’t stop my pace or where I was going with this. It would be all-the-way-to-the-finish-line with me, and I intended to get my way.

He must have read my body language, because his hands moved to my head and held me as he fucked my mouth. I took it all without gagging once, and when his balls tightened up and I knew he was close, I gripped his hips hard with both hands so he couldn’t pull back.

“Oh, fuck I’m gonna go so hard!” He stiffened to iron and spilled the warm essence down the back of my throat, holding my head with two hands as he climaxed. “Jesus Christ . . . Brynne.” He panted out deep, gulping breaths.

I lifted my eyes when he left my mouth. I swallowed slowly and saw his bottom lip tremble as he watched. He pulled me toward him, up from the floor, both hands still holding the sides of my face, and kissed me slow and deep and so sweetly that I soared at the gesture. I was glad to have pleasured him. It made me happy to make him happy.

Back on his lap again after restoring our clothes, we got comfortable and sat in his chair together. He trailed his fingers in my hair and nibbled at my neck. I played with his engraved silver tie clip that looked like something vintage and just let him hold me for a bit. “This is beautiful,” I told him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against my ear.

“I love your office. The photographs in reception are gorgeous.”

“I love it when you visit me at my office.”

“I can see that, Ethan. You are quite . . . welcoming.” I giggled at him. He tickled me and let me squirm for a little too long in my opinion. I smacked his hands away from my ribs.

“What did you bring me from your shopping? I hope it’s a sweet,” he said, reaching for the Boots bag. “I like Jolly Ranchers. Cherry is my favorite—”

I grabbed the bag from him before he could look. “Hey! Don’t you know better than to dig through ladies’ bags? You might find something to embarrass us both in there.”

He pursed his lips together and sighed. “I suppose you could be right,” he said far too easily. Then he grinned like a demon and snatched the bag completely out of my hands. “But I want to look anyway!” He held it out of my reach and started pulling out items. He got quiet when he extracted the purple toothbrush and then a tube of toothpaste. He set them on his desk and put his hand back into the bag. Out came a new hairbrush, some moisturizer and the lip gloss that I use. He kept bringing out all the stuff I’d bought at Boots. My brand of shampoo, shaving gel, and even a small bottle of Tommy Hilfiger’s Dreaming finished off the toiletries. He lined everything up neatly and looked at me very still and very serious. “But I thought you couldn’t, Brynne.”

“Me too.” I took out the one thing he had left in the bag. My prescription. “But Dr. Roswell gave me this, and some hope that I can do it.” I touched his hair and smoothed it. “They’re pills to help me sleep so I won’t wake up like I did last time. I mean, if I’m your girlfriend, then I want to . . . try to stay over with you sometim—”

He cut me off with a kiss before I could say any more.

“Oh, baby, you’ve made me so happy,” he told me between more kisses. “Tonight? You’ll stay tonight? Please say yes.” His expression told me all I really needed to know. He wanted me to stay, fucked-up sleeping habits and all.

I looked down at his tie clip again and spoke to that. “If you’re willing to try it and so am I, then how can I say no?”

“Look at me, Brynne.”

I did and saw the hard set of his jaw behind the goatee. I could see lots of emotion in him too. Ethan did not really hide it from me ever. He might be reserved in public, but in private with me, he wore his heart on his sleeve. What you saw was what you got. He told me what he wanted from me with no apology for how blunt the words were.

“I want you to see it in my eyes when I say that I am so willing to try, and so happy that you are too.” He kissed my hair. “And I want you to pick a word. Something you can say to me if you need to leave because you’re scared or if I do something you don’t want to happen.” He held my face to his. “You just say the word and I’ll stop, or I’ll take you home. Just please don’t ever walk out like that again.”

“Like a safe word?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Exactly like that. I need you to trust me. I need that, Brynne. But I need to trust you too. I can’t—I don’t want to feel like that again. When you left me that night—” He swallowed hard. I saw the movement of his throat pulsing and knew this was something important to him. “—I don’t want to feel how I felt when you were gone.”

“I’m sorry I left you like I did. I was overwhelmed by you. You overwhelm me, Ethan. You need to know that because it is the truth.”

He pressed his lips to my forehead and spoke. “Okay, but just tell me when. Say your word, whatever and I’ll back off. Just don’t leave me like that again.”

“Waterloo.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Waterloo is your safe word?”

I nodded. “That’s it.” I looked over at the food set out on the table for our lunch and inhaled. Chinese, from what Elaina had said, my nose agreeing. “Are you going to feed me or what? I thought I was getting lunch out of this deal.” I poked him in the chest. “A girl needs more than just an orgasm, you know.”

Ethan threw his head back and laughed and delivered a firm smack to my ass. “Off you go then. Let’s get you fed, my beautiful American girl. We have to keep you in top form. I have big plans for you tonight.”

He flashed me a wicked wink. I knew I was lost.