The Boss's Daughter (8 page)

Chapter Eight

“What’s up with you?” Spence asked. “You’re off your game.”

The restaurant was one of San Francisco’s five-star offerings, the food excellent, the prices extravagant. The customer had stepped out to take a call. He and Spence often double-teamed a potential customer. Though Spence was well versed in every aspect of their products, questions often arose that required Ward’s technical expertise. This lunch had been no exception. However, Spence had pegged it. Ward was off his game.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Spence held up his water glass, chinking the ice at the bottom to signal their waiter for a refill. They didn’t have cocktail lunches like in the old days.

Ward didn’t want to talk about her. But Spence deserved some sort of explanation. “Yes, it’s her.”

Spence let the waiter fill his water glass and move on before saying, “Just do her and get it over with.” Ah, such sage advice.

Doing Cassandra wasn’t the problem. Obsession was the problem.
His
obsession. It had been growing logarithmically in the two nights since the Entrepreneurs Club. She texted him, telling him what she wanted him to do, and it was like the devil whispering in his ear. She called him late at night and moaned for him as she touched herself. She never let him stop thinking about her. Did that mean she was obsessed as well? He didn’t think so. He was just her current plaything.

But he couldn’t stop.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you think you’re in love after less than a week.”

He hadn’t said a word. That was probably just as telling as blurting out everything.

“I’m not in love.” It was lust. Or something. Not love. She wasn’t lovable. Hot, sexy, wild, spontaneous, gorgeous, smart, talented, kinky, insatiable, but not lovable. Men didn’t love her, they obsessed about her.

“Haven’t you done her yet?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Spence wasn’t offended. “It’s my business when it affects my sales pitch.” He eyed Ward a long moment. “Are you all right? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Ward wondered what
this
was? Distracted, in his own head too much, slow to respond? Yeah, all of that.

“Because she’s Holt’s daughter?” Spence queried.

“No.” Because he had no control. Because the woman could get him to do anything she wanted, case in point, the date she’d planned for tomorrow night. Ward knew he’d go. He’d play the role she’d cast him in, a cuckold yet again. Yet this was so different from what his wife had done.

He drew in a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Then he looked at Spence. “Has a woman ever led you around by your—” He stopped. Spence would get it.

“Hell yeah.”

Ward doubted it. Spencer Benedict was supremely confident. No woman would ever have brought him low. Hell, maybe when he was a still a kid, but not Spencer Benedict the man.

“Dude, what you need to do is let go and enjoy it.” More sage advice. “You analyze too much. Just let go.” He leaned in, his voice low. “And when you do, it’ll be cataclysmic.”

“I’m sure it will be,” he said dryly. The problem was their definition of being led around by the dick. Ward didn’t think his was the same as Spence’s. He couldn’t imagine Spence simply sitting back while a woman made him watch as she picked up another man. Or standing in a darkened office like a peeping Tom while some big beefy guy took her from behind. And the blow job? The only reason she’d sucked him off in the car was to prove her power over him. Worse, he’d gotten as hard as concrete block every time. But he wasn’t telling Spence any of that. No freaking way. It was unmanly.

“Tell me this, do you like the way she makes you feel. Or do you hate it?” Spence sat back as if he’d delivered the coup de grace.

She made his skin buzz with excitement. He felt alive, on edge. His heart was constantly racing. He was totally in the moment when he was with her. She could make his eyes roll back in his head without even touching him. That first day, he’d wanted to take his cock in his hand and stroke himself till he came all over her. The night with Samson, he’d wanted to hold her head and feed his cock to her while the other guy fucked her. He loved watching the pleasure blossom on her face. He liked her cocky, sexy, self-assured attitude. “Yeah,” he finally said, “I like it a lot.”

“Then just enjoy it while you have it. That’s what I do. No future, no past, just now. The only thing that counts is if you both like it.”

He needed to emulate Spence. If he enjoyed it, did it matter that she was using other men to turn him on? If he liked watching and she liked being watched, did it matter that someone else would call him a voyeur or a wimp or a peeper? He’d had the best sex of his life in the last week, and he’d only touched her once. What other woman could he say that about? What other relationship? Not even his wife.

“You’re thinking hard,” Spence said. “You better come up with the right answer.”

Ward felt a wry smile grow on his lips. “You know, for a dickhead, you sometimes have a really good idea.”

Spence buffed his fingernails on his shirt. “Damn right. Now”—he jutted his chin toward the restaurant lobby and their returning customer—“let’s make the sale.”

* * * * *

The following evening Ward found himself watching Cassandra once again. The woman did love making plans for him.

Tonight she’d chosen a high-end airport hotel. Since it was Friday, there appeared to be fewer business clientele and more vacationers. Even at nine o’clock, the lobby was packed with people checking in and every table in the restaurant was full. With the high ceilings and open floor plan, the noise level made it impossible to make out individual conversations, even when they were going on right next to him.

Her instructions had been detailed. He was to wear a suit and tie and sit in the bar which was separated from the hotel restaurant by a banquette of potted plants. He found a barstool on the end, putting him high enough above the greenery to be able to see her seated on the other side.

Tuning out the voices around him and the scent of food, he worked on his beer, wetting his parched throat. Thank God that with all her plans she hadn’t gone so far as to tell him what to drink. He considered Spence’s advice, even if Spence hadn’t known exactly what he was telling Ward to do.
Go with it. Enjoy it.

How could he not enjoy watching her? The fabric peacock- blue dress shimmered in the candlelight flickering on the table. The square neckline dipped low on her bosom, so low that he could almost believe her nipples might pop out. Her breasts were spectacular, hence his parched throat.

Yes, he enjoyed, but there was still an underlying tension watching her cozy up to some other guy. This one was on the ordinary side, average build, average height, average looks. Nothing special, just a guy like any other, but one she was going to fuck tonight. They were already eating dinner when Ward arrived, so he wasn’t sure if she’d picked up the man in the bar or she already knew him. The table was intimate—it had to be if you wanted to hear the other person—and they were seated close enough for the guy to have his hand on her knee. Ward didn’t know that for sure, but one of his hands was below the table.

She laughed, he laughed. She gave him bedroom eyes, a slow lowering of her lids that spoke volumes about what they’d be doing later.

Ward let his emotions simmer. A little jealousy and anger had made the other night hotter. He wanted her but he was also aware this was abnormal. The regular progression would be dinner, nice conversation, take her home, maybe kiss her, but probably you wouldn’t invite yourself in the first night. That would take a few more dinners. With Cassandra,
normal
was blown to the four winds. He’d seen her gorgeous pussy and the play of a tremendous orgasm across her beautiful features before he’d ever said a word to her. He’d watched her have sex. He’d even helped her pick up a young kid in a bar. They weren’t together. They were just playing a series of games, escalating with every new episode. He could walk away any time. He
should
walk away. That was better for him.

But then the guy put his finger to her lip, and she bit him lightly. She liked love bites. Ward had been on the receiving end and somehow it was too damn sexy for words. It made his blood boil that she did it to someone else. His temperature rose, his skin heated, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He felt something else rise, too, not his cock—that had been hard since the moment he’d seen her sitting there—but his blood lust. He wanted her. He wanted to fight for her. He wanted to grab Mr. Joe Average by the front of his shirt, haul him up on his toes, and smash his face.
Before
the guy got to Cassandra.

She was standing. Her dinner date threw bills on the table. As he looked down, Cassandra stared straight at Ward. She held his gaze several long seconds then licked her lips. And smiled.

Bitch.

She enjoyed making him watch, holding him at bay, doing anyone and everyone before she gave him what he wanted.

There was something wrong with how damn alive all his frazzled emotions made him feel. He could feel the tension buzzing right down to his toes as she turned and walked away, her hand looped through the man’s arm.

He could have gotten up then, followed her, stopped her. He could have gone to his car and driven away. But he sat on his barstool and drank his beer. Then he ordered another. He’d started his mental stopwatch the moment she was out of sight. Thirty minutes. Not twenty-nine, not thirty-one, but thirty exactly. Then he was supposed to go up to the room number she’d texted him. She’d left a key for him at the front desk. The clerk had handed it over, probably thinking they were married. Or just fuck buddies. They were something completely different. He just didn’t know what.

The minutes ticked by. The noise gave him a headache. Seated at nearby table with three of her friends, a pretty blonde woman smiled an invitation to him. When they were traveling, it was always Spence who received those smiles, not him, the nerdy guy with the glasses. He had, in fact, enjoyed watching Spence work on women. Watching. It had never occurred to him, but that’s what he did best. He sat back and watched as his friend walked away with his wife. Now, he was watching Cassandra.

Tick, tick, tick. His inner alarm clock went off. It was time. He paid for his beers, left a tip, passed the table of women on his way out. He imagined she gave him a longing look. Or maybe it wasn’t imagination. He radiated something sexual that she’d picked up on.

The lobby traffic had thinned out. Elegantly dressed couples headed out to the taxi line. Perhaps they were going to a show in the city. If so, they should have stayed up there, except that the price of a hotel room in the city was astronomical.

He stood for a couple of minutes at the bank of elevators before one came. There were a greater number of people exiting the car than getting on, and by the eleventh floor, he was alone.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest and his blood flowing through his veins. She’d choreographed everything up to the moment he stuck the card key in the door. After that, he was on his own. Whatever he wanted.

The carpet was plush and didn’t make a sound beneath his shoes. The card key slipped into the slot soundlessly. The light flashed green. The well-oiled handle didn’t squeak as he pushed it down and opened the door.

The lights were off, the curtains open, and the room bathed in a prisms of light from the surrounding hotels and the airport runways. He closed the door as silently as he’d opened it. Then he heard the soft friction of bodies coming together. A woman’s moan. A man’s labored breath. She said something, he couldn’t hear what, then she laughed.

He passed the closet and the bathroom. Ahead lay the bureau, TV, and desk. And to the left stood the bed.

Chapter Nine

Despite the lack of lights in the room, he could see the tableau clearly. She was splayed across the bed, Mr. Joe Average between her legs. Her hair lay in a wild tangle across the pillow. The dress had been tossed to the floor, but she still wore the bra, her breasts bobbing as her partner in crime thrust into her. Her face somehow seemed to have a glow all its own. The woman loved sex, she was made for it, her body screaming out her sexual desire.

Ward heard the call. He wanted to plunge deep inside her, watch the dance of pleasure across her features. He had yet to be that close. In the car Tuesday night, the mirror had distanced the spectacle. When she’d sucked his cock, he could no longer grasp the concept of watching; there’d been only the exquisite touch of her mouth, the lick of her tongue, and the grip of her hot hand around him.

He wanted to be close. Craved it. Yet he watched, the way she wanted him to.

Joe Average was upright, Cassandra’s legs draped over his thighs as he pounded relentlessly, his buttocks clenching, releasing. Her vibrator between her legs, she gave herself the extra kick.

“God, God, God,” Joe panted. “Squeeze me with that pretty cunt, baby.”

The word jolted Ward—it wasn’t one he used with a lady—but Cassandra merely mewled. Then she braced one hand on the headboard and bore down on the guy’s cock. The slap of their flesh, the whine of the vibrator, the pants and groans and dirty words made a sexual symphony.

He wanted it for himself, wanted to feel her heat, needed to know the intimate clench of her body around him. He wanted it so goddamn badly, it was hard to breathe. The room was a fog of sex, perspiration, and the same mango scent he’d smelled in the house that first day.

Her legs began to shudder. She pointed and flexed her toes. Then a cry rose from her throat. Her eyes tightly shut, she rolled up, clenched Joe’s arm with red-tipped fingernails, and gave in to a full-body quake, rocking with him, her moans matching his grunts.

“Oh God, baby, yeah, baby, squeeze me with that fucking cunt. Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

She seemed to come endlessly, even after Joe lost his rhythm and slumped. Finally she flopped back against the pillow, tossed the vibrator aside, and laughed. “Holy mama,” she said on a final gasp. “That was good, but you were supposed to come on me, not inside.”