“Penny for them.”
I jerk my head up to see Mark staring down at me, a warm smile on his face. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. May I?” he asks, motioning to the seat next to me. I nod. He smiles, but says nothing as he sits. I know he’s letting me go at my own pace.
I sigh. “It’s my brother. He’ll be leaving for Afghanistan in a couple weeks.”
Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he lets out an exhale. “Meanwhile, you’re travelling about as far away from him as possible.”
“Yes.”
“Will you at least get to say goodbye to him before he leaves?”
“Yes, but—” I pause. When I look at him, I see Devon staring at me intently, like he’s trying to decipher what we’re discussing. I quickly look back at Mark. “Me leaving when my brother is about to go to war seems wrong.”
Sensing I don’t want others to hear, Mark leans toward me. “If it makes you feel any better, the situation out there is far better than it used to be. I think soldiers over there have a good handle on things. Unfortunately, since they’ve been doing it for so many years now, they know the lay of the land. I’m sure your brother will be fine.”
I nod with a smile, but it’s forced. After learning Charlie was going, I had texted Ben to find out if he were going, too. I didn’t like the answer. Now I understood why Charlie was so adamant we not develop a relationship. He was not only protecting my virtue. He was protecting my heart.
Biting my lip, I try not to show how upset I am. I know I’m pathetic, but when you add in Devon’s behaviour lately, I have the right to feel sorry for myself. A few days ago, I even found myself searching for other jobs online. Things at Worldwide Airways are going from bad to severely bad. I don’t deserve any of the disrespect Devon throws at me. I doubt anyone else would put up with his bullshit for long. If it weren’t for me helping pay for Dad’s mortgage, I would have left a long time ago.
An hour later, we land, getting through immigration and customs fairly easily, considering we came in on a private jet. Money definitely talks.
Once we have all our bags, we’re ushered to a waiting limousine and are taken to the hotel I booked a couple weeks ago. When we get there, I approach the front desk, giving our names. The receptionist types for a few seconds and then frowns.
“Um …” I stare at her, not liking the sound of that. Finally, she looks up. “There seems to be a problem with your booking. Excuse me while I speak with the manager.”
When she disappears, I feel Devon approach. “What’s the problem?” he hisses.
I turn to him, a confused expression on my face. “I have no idea.”
The receptionist soon reappears with a manager, who smiles at me. “It seems you have booked the suite, but there are four of you. The suite only holds a maximum of three.”
I hear Devon sigh. I ignore him and shake my head. “No, that’s not true. I booked the presidential suite. The one with four rooms. Why would I book anything less than that when I knew there were going to be four of us?” Setting my case down on the floor, I dig my phone out of my handbag. “Hold on. I’ll show you.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Devon says under his breath. I ignore him, trying to get internet. It’s no use.
I look up at the manager in a panic. “I can’t get a signal, but I swear I made that booking.”
Seeming to take pity on me, the manager smiles. “Unfortunately, we are having technical difficulties this evening, which is why you are unable to get a signal. This will be resolved as soon as possible.” He points to some seats behind us. “Listen, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll look into this. In the meantime, why don’t you take a seat?”
He walks off, leaving me a bundle of nerves. I know Devon’s going to freak. As if on cue, he appears next to me.
“What the fuck’s going on now?”
“They’re saying I didn’t book the presidential suite.”
“Fucking typical!”
“Devon, I swear I made that booking.”
He gives me that look. The one that tells me he isn’t impressed. A look that would normally make me cower. This time, however, knowing that I’m right makes me stand my ground.
“That’s Mr Jackson to you, Andi.” He sucks in a breath and stares me down. It isn’t hard, considering he is almost a foot taller than I am. “You’ve obviously made a mistake. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”
Now it’s my turn to suck in a breath. I really need to calm my shit down because I can feel myself about to blow. Once I know I can talk without shouting, my eyes land back on him. I don’t want him to know I’m intimidated. “I know what booking I made, Mr Jackson. If I could get internet connection, I would show you.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Mark quickly stands between us. “I suggest we all sit and wait to see what the hotel can come up with. We’re all tired after such a long journey, and I suspect we would like nothing more than to get to our room and take a nice cool shower. But, for now, it’s out of our hands.” He motions to the chairs. “Sit, take a load off, and cool down a bit.”
Devon huffs, clutching his suitcase more forcefully than necessary. He stares me down one more time before obviously deciding to take Mark’s advice. Once he takes a seat, Mark looks at me, raising a brow. I nod, sitting down, but I’m pissed. I can still feel that burning desire to rip into him. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into him lately, but he just seems irritated with me all the time. Maybe once New York is over, I should seriously look into finding another job. It’s unhealthy for me to be tied to this man twenty-four/seven anyway. I need to get some space between us … and fast.
After another ten minutes of waiting in deathly silence, the manager comes over. “I’m so sorry for the mix up. It seems we made a double booking for that room, which was totally our mistake. The room you have booked is free. For your inconvenience, we will grant you one night free. I truly am sorry. We will also send a bottle of champagne and strawberries to your suite as a token of our sincere apologies.” He looks down, as if ashamed, then hands Devon our key cards. “These are your room keys. It is a four-bedroom suite with plenty of room. Enjoy your stay.”
Devon briefly looks at me, then back up at the man. “Okay, well, I’m glad it’s all sorted.”
Wow, the man of so many words is stumbling all of a sudden. Is this what it feels like? That smug feeling you get when you know you’re right and someone proves it for you? Hmm, I could get used to this.
We all get up, Mark whispering something into Devon’s ear. Devon looks at me briefly and then scowls at Mark. Whatever he’s thinking, he can keep to himself. I walk up to him and open my hand.
“The key, please.”
Devon looks down at my hand, then back up at me. I can see he’s a little stunned by my reaction, so I’m quite surprised when he just places the key card in my palm. The minute he does, I make my way to the lift and press the button. I’m not going to hang around any longer. I’m angry, and the more I’m around Devon, the angrier I get.
As I wait, I tap my foot impatiently. I don’t want to cause a scene, but I can feel the anger burning. I’ve been putting up with his shit for a whole year. Twelve stinking months of listening to him bark orders and treat me like a dog.
Enough is enough.
The lift doors eventually open and I step inside, suitcase in tow. Without a word, Devon, Mark, and Anthony step in with me. Silently, we all look at each other like shit is about to go down. You can cut the tension with a knife.
Yeah, just one of you say something … I dare you.
Wisely, everyone keeps quiet. When the lift doors open, I’m the first one to get out. I think they can tell I’m not to be messed with right now.
With my heart racing, I march up to the room and put my key card in. Without looking back, I stroll in, the door closing behind me, and notice the huge expanse of the living room. One door veers off from to left and the other to the right. I walk to the righ
t-hand side of the room. There is another separate living area with two doors on either end. I place my handbag on the big TV cabinet and take the room on the left. The others can pick whichever room they want, but this one is mine. At this point, I just don’t care.
I open the door to my room, slam it behind me, and take in the beautiful, king-sized bed. The room’s huge. It’s just the right kind of hotel for the infamous Devon Jackson.
Pretentious little prick.
With a sigh, I unpack and then proceed to the shower. I’m hot, tired, and in need of a good massage, but the cool water hitting me helps a lot. I knew it would be hot here, but add in travelling and lugging suitcases everywhere and it’s been unbearable.
I take my sweet time to savour how comfortable I feel for the first time in hours. I gently lather up my hair, wanting to feel and smell as nice as possible.
When I think I have dragged on the shower long enough, I turn it off, step out, and wrap a comfortable dressing gown around myself. When I look at my suitcase, I remember I should have texted Ritchie the minute I got off the plane. Even with it being so late back home, he still insisted that I text him to let him know I got here okay.
Biting my lip, I realise I had left my handbag in the living area. I really don’t want to bump into anyone right now, least of all Devon. I hope he chose one of the rooms on the other side of the main living room. Wherever he is, I can’t put Ritchie off any longer. He’ll be so mad at me.
Giving myself a pep talk, I march over to my door, open it a little, and peer into the living area. All is quiet. Once satisfied, my eyes wander over to where I left my bag. I practically run out the door to fetch it. I can hear muffled voices. It sounds a lot like Mark and Anthony. They must be relaxing in the other living area, which can only mean one thing.
I groan to myself and reach out to grab my bag. Before I have my hand on it, however, I feel something tug on my shoulder. I gasp, spinning around to find Devon staring at me, a finger over his lips. “Shh,” he utters as he steps closer. I’m about to ask what the hell he’s doing when he places that same finger over my mouth.
God … his touch … Just a little one sparks a reaction in me. Never in my life, not even in the brief moment with Ben, did I feel this alive just from a touch.
For a moment, he stares at my face. I must look a lot different with my glasses off and my hair wet, loosely cascading down my shoulders. Devon has always insisted I keep myself hidden. Always insisted I look as nerdy as possible. Lately, he’s gotten to see the real me. The person behind Devon’s personal assistant.
As his intense gaze penetrates me, my heart starts beating a million miles an hour. What is that look? Is it lust? Surely not, but the way he stares makes my loins think otherwise. I’m still mad as hell, but the anger’s quickly turning into something I swore I would keep under control whenever around him.
If I thought things couldn’t heat up more, Devon reaches down and grabs the belt to my dressing gown. With one tug, both sides open, revealing the swell of my breasts, the perk of my nipples, my flat stomach. His eyes linger for a moment, taking in the sight of me.
What the hell is he doing?
As his eyes travel down, he takes in the sight of my bare pussy. I had just shaved this morning, so there isn’t a hair to be seen.
My heart kicks up even faster. Surely he doesn’t want me the same way I want him. Is this just some kind of sick joke? Is he getting me back for lashing out at him earlier?
Devon leans in, taking his finger away. I can smell alcohol on his breath.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Shh,” he says again, leaning toward my lips.
Surely he isn’t about to kiss me again. When I feel his lips brush against mine, I let out a moan. Even though I have hated him since that last kiss, I have often found myself dreaming of those lips on mine.
When he hears my moan, Devon captures my lips, pushing me up against the wall. Our breathing becomes laboured as my hands scramble to touch and squeeze every part of his body. Devon moans a little, my pussy contracting with need. I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on, but I know one thing. I don’t want it to stop. His lips feel warm and inviting. His tongue dances with mine in perfect unison. I can safely say, hands down, this is the best kiss I have ever had.
Just when I think it can’t possibly get more heated, Devon grabs my breast, swiping his thumb over my erect nipple. I groan into his mouth. He pulls away to look at my breasts, then bends his head, licking and sucking it until I think I’m going to explode.
“Devon,” I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling and yanking him to me.
“It’s Mr Jackson to you,” he growls.
I ignore his jibe. I feel too wild and fucking horny right now to care. I’m not sure what has gotten into me, but I know I need him with a violent passion.
He captures my mouth again, and I can feel him tugging at his belt. Surely not here? Mark and Anthony are mere feet away!
I’m about to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing when he suddenly yanks his trousers down, lifts me up against the wall, and enters me—hard.
I gasp, wanting to cry out, but Devon quickly covers my mouth, halting me.
Fuck… He feels so big.
With his hand still over my mouth, Devon nuzzles his head into my shoulder and starts sucking as he fucks me. What the hell is going on? He’s taking me raw and hard with his lawyer and accountant just two rooms away. I can still hear their voices as Devon thrusts himself into me repeatedly.
As he hits the spot, my eyes roll to the back of my head. He feels so good. I don’t want him to feel this good, but as he forces his way inside me, I can’t help but love every single millisecond of it.
I’m completely submissive as he fucks and sucks me raw. I feel the pleasure of his cock coupled with the pain of his mouth on my shoulder. I can also hear his muffled moans as he forces himself to keep as quiet as possible. The thought sends me into delirium. My whole body tingles and comes alive with each thrust. He grunts softly each time he pounds into me, and with each one, I feel my orgasm rise. Shit, I’m about to come, and it’s going to be a violent one.
As if sensing this, Devon starts going faster and harder. All I can do is take every pleasurable thrust. As my orgasm rises, I squeeze his neck, causing him to move his hand. I bite it as pleasure ripples through me.
My orgasm goes on and on as Devon becomes frantic. He soon thrusts one more time, coming inside me.
Shit, did he even wear a condom? The feeling of his hot semen shooting into me gives me the answer. What the hell is going on with him?
Devon releases my shoulder, his breath harsh. He removes his hand from my mouth, my breath coming in gasps. I’m completely lost, unable to comprehend what has just taken place. Is it because he’s drunk? In the span of me getting unpacked and showered, did he really manage to get so hammered that fucking me seemed like a decent prospect?
“Devon?” a voice calls in the distance. My eyes widen.
He pulls away violently and stares at me, surprise clear in his eyes.
“Devon?” Anthony calls, sounding very much like he’s heading this way. “Devon?” he calls again as Devon races to button his trousers.
As quickly as I can, I grab my bag and race to my room. I’m sure I make it in there before Anthony spots me, but I’m certainly not going to check.
As I lean against the back of my bedroom door, my breathing harsh, I try to get a grip on what had just taken place. Am I dreaming?
I pinch my arm and feel the pain. No, I’m not dreaming. So what was that all about? Why did Devon suddenly find me attractive enough to take me in the way he did? Probably because he’s drunk. I’ve never seen Devon drunk before, so that must be the reason. Maybe this is his way of apologising. I huff. That man is a wealth of contradictions.
Then it dawns on me. If he’s been treating me like shit just from a kiss, how is he going to treat me now that we’ve…
 
; I put my head in my hands. “Oh god,” I groan softly. He’s going to be unbearable to live with.
As my head explodes with thoughts, anger soon sets in again. I’m pissed at him for taking me like that, but also angry at myself for letting him. At least I know he’s clean. He checks himself regularly enough. He’s also never had sex without a condom … as far I know.
So, why not with me?
I’m tired of his shit. I’m tired of trying to decipher what’s going on in that man’s head every five minutes. He’s my obsession because he made me that way. He can’t do shit without me, and I can’t help but do his shit. It’s like a compulsion.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and make my way to the shower again. I feel dirty, the need to wash him off me immense. The sex was unbelievable, but Devon has this knack of making me feel worthless—of making me feel used.
After my shower, I contemplate whether I should just go to bed. It’s only seven in the evening, but my internal clock tells me it’s midnight. However, I’m too pumped. I’m angry and fed up with everything that has happened lately—especially today. I blow out a breath and start looking through my wardrobe.
I brought the usual boring trouser suits that Devon forces me to wear, but I also brought some clothes that would make me feel good about myself. I packed three sexy, but elegant dresses. In the end, I opt for a little red number. Something that would send Devon into a tailspin if he saw me wear it. I smile. I think I may just wear it now just to spite him.
I pull the dress off the hanger and get dressed. I dry my hair, put on some make-up, and put my contacts in. As I finish the final touches, I admire myself in the mirror. It’s marvellous what a bit of preening can do to your confidence. What tops it off are the sexy, black high heels I bought myself weeks ago, but never had the confidence to wear. Not now, though. Now I want to stick it to Devon and his stupid pretty face with his pretty hair and his toned, muscular body and enormous giant dick that made me come.