Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage (9 page)

“No, just had a little…matter to discuss with Mattilda.” Victor smirked. Glancing at his watch, he added, “Gotta go. Have five-thirty dinner reservations. Don’t want to keep my date waiting.”

Pointing to his mouth, Bryce suggested, “I’d take a minute to wipe my face if I were you.” The grin lifting his lips was meant to warn rather than show humor as he added, “I’d also watch the ‘matters’ you discuss with my assistant, Victor. Wouldn’t want them getting you into any trouble.”

The heat flushing the younger man’s face and the narrow-eyed glare assured Bryce his warning had been interpreted correctly. Unconcerned with Victor’s response, he left the man sputtering in the hall and moved toward his office.

Wiping at her smeared lipstick, he heard Mattie grumble. “Why do they act like such cavemen? It’s disgusting.” Tossing the used tissue in the trash, she added, “He even had the audacity to accuse me of dressing to turn him on!”

Already suspicious about the subject of the tirade, Bryce closed the door leading into the reception area from the hall and asked, “What’s disgusting?”

“Nothing,” Mattie snapped, glaring at him and stepping into her office. The door between the reception area and her office closed with a distinct slam.

Beside him, Dana winced and shook her head. Having been with the company five years and spending the last two manning the desk that led into his and Mattie’s adjoining offices, Dana was familiar with the battle of wills he and his assistant engaged in on occasion.

Not bothering to acknowledge the slammed door, Bryce glanced at his watch. “It’s almost five, Dana. Why don’t you head on home?” He watched as Dana grinned, her fingers moving swiftly over the phone and powering down her computer.

“No problem.” Scooping up her purse and coat, she smiled, calling out from the door, “Have a good night.”

Pushing open the door to Mattie’s office, he took a moment to examine her as she angrily paced the carpet between the tiny sitting area and her desk. The swish of her skirt hem skimmed the top of her knees and the black heels gave her hips a sexy sway. If he hadn’t already set his plans in motion over the weekend, Bryce figured the sight of Lawrence’s round ass draped in midnight blue silk and bent over the lower drawer of his filing cabinets when he came in this morning would have had him rethinking his eight years of hands-off. Just as she had on Saturday, Mattie had dressed to kill…or arouse.

Despite the anger fueling her pacing, Bryce enjoyed the sight of the black silk stockings, blue skirt, and black blouse she wore. The sensual fabrics caressed her skin, outlining every curve, and tempted him to break his promise of “no intercourse” before she made her final decision. Fighting the urge to strip her and spread her over her desk for a fast, furious fucking, Bryce focused on the subject of her continued mutterings.

“So, Lawrence, I can assume your tirade about ‘disgusting cavemen’ has something to do with Victor wearing some of your lipstick when he left the office?”

Rounding on him, her chocolate eyes blazed. One fist propped on her hip and the other flexing angrily at her side, she responded, “I told you he would be trouble.”

“Are we going to go—”

“You wouldn’t listen to me,” she growled, striding closer. Spreading her arms wide, Mattie continued, “You liked his résumé and the fact that he came so highly recommended.”

“Yes, we are.” Bryce didn’t bother to hide his amusement at her dislike of the other man. Ignoring the fact that his own opinion had changed about the attorney, he added, “If we’re going to go through this again, Lawrence, let’s go into my office so there are more walls between us and the rest of the company.”

Leaving her to follow him or not, Bryce strode into his office. Knowing her as well as he did, he wasn’t surprised when the door thudded shut.

“Hey, if you have no problem being named in a sexual harassment suit, it’s no skin off my nose,” she snapped, dropping onto the sofa and rubbing at her lips.

Tossing his suit coat over the back of his chair, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up as he moved to stand over her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he demanded, “Explain.”

“Just because I made the mistake of going out with him once, he thinks I’m available to scratch any itch he might have.”

The swagger and cocky attitude of the younger man made more sense now, but the warning he’d given him should work to quell any future poaching efforts. “So that was what you meant by ‘disgusting’?”

Meeting his eyes, she asked, “Why is it guys think they have to slobber and maul a person as some sort of mating ritual?”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about Victor.”

The heat filling her cheeks assured Bryce that Mattie was now remembering the encounter in the sitting room at his home on Saturday.

“Yes.” She nodded. Shuddering, she added, “With Victor, it was like having an octopus grope me. Slimy lips and too many tentacles to watch out for. With you…” Mattie’s voice trailed off and she shrugged.

“Stand up.”

It was the tone she associated with his master personality. On Saturday, she’d gotten a brief glimpse of it when he’d outlined all the erotic things he’d planned to introduce her to. The wet pulse between her thighs reminded her of the sensual attention he’d promised to…

“Lawrence.” His reminder had her getting to her feet and moving to stand in front of him. Giving in to the impulse to avert her gaze from his, she dipped her chin so her eyes focused on the third button of his shirt.

“Tell me what he did.”

Remaining in place as he stepped away from her, Mattie fought the urge to follow his progress as he moved behind her. Swallowing, she recounted Victor’s visit. “He came in and asked to speak with me privately.”

“Did you allow that?” The wash of his breath over her shoulder warmed her. The deft treatment he gave the hook and zipper on her skirt had the garment pooling around her ankles, with her thong soon following.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“That”—his voice was implacable—“was your first mistake.” Circling around to her front, his finger beneath her chin lifted Mattie’s gaze to his. “Continue.”

“Wh—” She stifled her gasp as his fingers slipped the buttons through their holes on her cuffs, before he began with the row down the front of her blouse. “When he followed me in, he suggested I was trying to gain his attention so he would ask me out again.”

“And you disabused him of that notion?”

Mattie nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his hands eased her silk shirt over her shoulders and off.

“Lawrence.” The command was in his voice again.

“Yes, I made it clear I wasn’t interested in him.” Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him carefully fold her blouse and set it on his desk.

“Hand me your skirt and underwear, then remove your bra.”

Blatantly conscious of her nudity and its contrast to his fully clothed state, Mattie stepped out of the puddle of silk, stooped to gather the fabric, and carefully folded each item before handing them to Bryce. Fingers trembling, she had to try twice before getting the front catch of her bra to release so she could hand it over to him.

Again, Bryce turned away to settle her clothing on the corner of his desk. When he returned, he held her gaze for long, heated moments. “Where did he touch you?”

Her hands rose to graze the midpoint on her upper arms. No bruises showed, but the grip Victor had used had proved to be difficult to wrestle free from.

Bryce’s look was cool, remote, as he stepped closer, his gaze tracing the path of her hands. “Is that the only place?”

“No.” She could feel the heat in her cheeks as his eyes followed her fingers as she traced them along her jaw, where Victor’s hand had stilled her attempts to turn away from him. From there, she hastily slid her hand over her left breast and hip, before stopping with her hand cupped briefly over her left butt cheek.

“And those are the only places?” His gaze held hers, searching for any secrets she might try to hide.

At her nod, Bryce tamped down the primal urge to mark his territory. Leaving bruises on her would do nothing but create rumors throughout the building. Not that their marrying wouldn’t send a wave of whispers rippling through the staff, but love bites the size of silver dollars would only increase the rumors. With the way the Makepeaces had tried to steal his position from him, he wanted to keep them in the dark about his marrying Lawrence for as long as possible.

As she stood before him, the dark curls between her legs glistening with her arousal, Bryce fought the urge to smile. His first challenge had presented itself, and now he needed to analyze how she responded to it.

Taking her wrist, he led her around the coffee table and settled onto the cushions of the sofa. When she moved to sit beside him, he shook his head. “Stand there.” Releasing her hand, he presented his first question. “What were my instructions on Saturday?”

The puzzled look on her face reassured him that she was searching for the rules he’d laid down when they’d struck their bargain. “Which ones?” Mattie asked, her tone reflecting both confusion and suspicion.

“About other men.”

Her gasp was all he needed to warn him. Before she could move away, he sat up and tugged her, facedown, over his knees.

“You can’t possibly…” she cried, her body twisting in his hold.

The first blow stilled her wriggling. Sharp enough to sting but not truly hurt. Bryce waited. “What were my instructions?” A firm strike on the opposite cheek followed his request.

“But he isn’t…owww!”

A third blow landed, stifling her protest and drawing a cry from her lips. More protests followed the fourth and fifth swats, each just a shade more solid than the last, but the safe word remained unspoken. After another strike on a rosy cheek, Bryce asked again, “What were my instructions?”

Emotion clogged her voice, but he clearly heard Mattie’s response. “No contact with former lovers.” Pushing off his knees, she knelt beside him, her shimmering eyes glaring at him, not with tears—his cock ached, pressing against his trousers as he realized it was arousal heating her gaze even as she finished arguing. “But he isn’t—”

Lifting her onto his lap, Bryce shook his head. “No other men.” Tracing his lips along the jaw Victor had held still, he continued, “You don’t allow
any
other men to touch you, Lawrence.” While one hand trailed over each of the spots she’d identified as where Victor had touched her, the other eased the high heels from her feet. His lips followed his fingertips, ghosting light kisses over the soft skin of her upper arms, before easing across to the slope of her left breast. The strawberry red nipple poked upward, begging for attention, as he eased Mattie onto the cushions beside him.

“You asked a question earlier.” Bryce’s reminder pulled Mattie’s focus away from the teasing of his lips.

“Uhmmm, yeah,” she muttered. Threading her fingers through his silky hair, she arched closer, hoping he would stop talking and pay attention to the nipple begging for attention.

“Something about men and kissing,” Bryce continued, his lips moving downward to coast over her ribs and hip.

As he shifted away, her body settled into the soft cushions of the sofa, the smooth leather cool against her heated skin. The moment her sore bottom touched down, Mattie couldn’t hold back a whimper. Planting her heels in the cushion, she lifted her hips, avoiding the pressure and the strange tingling it sent through her body.

“No, Lawrence.” One broad palm covered her belly, pressing down.

Heat entered his eyes as he watched her absorb the pain as her bottom settled onto the leather. The sensations accompanying the pain confused and aroused her. Before she could figure out why her body was reacting the way it was, Bryce eased apart her thighs and settled between them.

Propping his weight on his bent elbows, he drew her gaze back to his. “You likened Victor’s kiss to that of an octopus, right?”

“Y-yes, slimy and too many tentacles.” She repeated her earlier analogy, her mind spinning and barely capable of registering his question.

“Cock of the Walk.”

“What?”

Bryce chuckled, his fingers stroking through the curls beside her ear. “It’s one of three kinds of kisses.”

“There are ‘kinds’ of kisses?” Mattie’s attention was now focused on the heat the closeness of his body engendered. Through his trousers, she could feel the firm length of his arousal against her hips, reassuring her that, though his words might seem offhand, his body was responding to hers.

“Over the years, I’ve discovered there are basically three types of kisses. Each one can have any number of kisses, but the styles are broken down into three distinct categories.”

Needing to feel him, Mattie eased her hands up to the buttons on Bryce’s shirt. Fingers hovering over the first, she waited until he nodded approval before opening it. Keeping the conversation going as she slid each button free of its hole, Mattie offered, “So the slimy, groping kind of kiss is…”

“Cock of the Walk.” He pushed himself up so she could tug the tail of his shirt loose from his trousers before he settled back into place, this time allowing his hips to rest firmly over hers. “It’s the type of kiss I consider the one-night stand. Lots of tongue and groping, little finesse.”

Mattie grimaced at the reminder of the other man’s attentions.

Bryce chuckled. “I take it Victor needs to work on his finesse?”

“And how.” She nodded, her gaze transfixed by the tanned muscles roping his chest and abdomen. A T-shaped dusting of fine, white blond curls stretched between his nipples and arrowed down toward his belly.

The brush of Bryce’s lips beside hers drew her attention back to his face. “Then there’s the Big Brother.”

“Big Brother?”

He nodded. “Um-hm.” Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss to her cheek, then one to her forehead. “You know. The type a close friend or relative gives when they haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh, familial,” Mattie grated out. Having him so close, his attentions focused on her, spun the coil of arousal tight in her belly. The awareness of her nude body pressed against his was playing havoc with her concentration. The heat from her spanked bottom seemed to be seeping into her pussy, warming it, drawing forth fluids. “Oh—” She cleared her throat as she tried to ignore the sensations stirring between her thighs. “Okay, so there’s the Big Brother and the Cock of the Walk. What’s the third type?”