The Unblocked Collection (35 page)

“Of course I am.” She watched me closely. “But I’m right, obviously…you
freak
!” She let out a noise that was a mix of a sigh and a moan. “Explain something to me: how were you able to get ready for work this morning?”

“How?” I was confused by her question. “Well, I got up, and took a shower…” That had been the first shower I had taken alone since Derek had come over. The other two had been much more memorable. During the first, his tongue had teased me to an orgasm, and the second we’d had sex against the stone wall. “Then I straightened my hair and found something to wear.”

“No, I mean how did you leave him this morning? If Mr. Block were in my bed, I’d be calling in sick to work. Every day.”

She’d been encouraging my involvement with Derek since the day she’d witnessed our chemistry, and I appreciated that. But her comment was exactly what I’d feared all along. There were moments last night when Derek was covered in me—his hands, his mouth, his dick. Those had been the only things that had mattered. And to be truthful, I had contemplated calling in sick, asking Brea to take my clients to the scheduled showing, and staying in bed all day. If he hadn’t gotten up before me to meet with Will, I might have tried to convince him to do the same.

I couldn’t make sense of it, or of myself—the voracious sexual deviant I had become.

Running Jordan International wasn’t just a career goal or a family business birth right; it was a desire so strong, so motivating, there were times I could think of nothing else.

My father may have been the controller and the face of the company, but I was the mortar that held it all together. It wasn’t only him depending on me; it was Brea too, and our team of over one hundred agents, plus all the office staff. But my feelings for Derek were starting to trump my professional passion. I wondered how I had let it happen, and how I would make it stop, or at least slow it down so I could get a grip on both.

“Frankie?”

I glanced up when I heard my name. I had been staring blankly at my wrists. “Yes?”

Brea was glaring at me. “So why are you here with me instead of there with him?”

I grabbed my glass and swallowed half the water in it. “Derek had a meeting, so he left before me.”

She leaned in and wrapped her fingers around my hand. “He hasn’t put a ring on it. Relax. You’re just having some fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The waitress appeared with a pitcher of water and refilled my glass. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“A bottle of pinot noir, please,” I said.

“With two glasses?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll bring that right out,” she said and left our table.

My attention turned back to Brea. “I forgot to ask, do we have more showings this afternoon?”

She shook her head. “We have a conference call in a little bit. Then there’s a closing downstairs that you need to stop by, and a traffic meeting after that. You’ll be fine. And honestly, if you hadn’t ordered the wine, I was going to.”

“The closing isn’t with Reed, is it?”

“There’s no broker. It’s a cash sale.”

Relief passed through me. “That’s good news.” I couldn’t take any more Reed at the moment. I definitely needed to discuss his showing up unexpectedly and barging into my home. That conversation would inevitably lead to the one we’d never had…about the future we would never have together. Once I found him with Hayden, everything between us had been thrown up in the air. Only our business relationship had landed intact. We needed to talk about all of it, and we would. I just wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

The screen of my phone lit up with an email, a note from the assistant of the international client to whom I’d shown several units last week.

“Something good?” Brea asked.

“Fernando wants to buy two units at Timber Towers. One of the penthouses for himself, and a unit on a lower floor as an investment. He wants me to put together a written offer for both.”

“What does he want to pay?”

I continued to skim the email. “Full price for the penthouse; twenty-thousand under asking for the second unit.”

“Damn…Mr. Block will be impressed.”

“I think it will take more than two offers to impress him, but I do think it’s a good sign of what’s to come.”

“None of the units are even on the MLS yet and the first person you show the pocket listing to wants to submit a contract that’s worth over five million. Yeah, I’d say this is definitely a good sign.”

I sent Derek a text:

Me:
I’ll be submitting two offers later today. Same buyer. Includes a penthouse. Thought you’d want to know.

I looked up just as the waitress returned with our wine. After she filled our glasses, Brea held hers up in the air. “Should we toast to the first offer?”

I smiled. “I think that’s appropriate.”

“To two down, one hundred and seventy-nine more to go!” Our glasses clinked.

I knew the units would start moving fast once we held the brokers open, and they were all listed on the MLS. Derek didn’t have much competition in the new construction arena. Maybe then our relationship would make more sense because he would no longer be a client.

“To that,” I said.

“And to Mr. Block’s dick, for turning you into a smiling fool and making you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

I almost choked. “I can’t believe we’re toasting to
that
.”

“It’s not just a
that;
it’s a dick, and they’re important.” We laughed. “And it’s not just any dick; it’s Mr. Block’s dick.”

My skin flushed as I thought of how I’d referred to him as Mr. Block and the punishment he’d doled out. I’d screamed for more of his tongue, his fingers…of him. I’d enjoyed it more than he probably intended. “Mr. Block…”

“No. Mr. Block’s
dick
.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I got that part.”

“Say it with me, Frankie: Dick. Dick. Dick. It’s like: Orgasm. Orgasm. Orgasm. They go hand in hand…or dick in hand. You get the point.”

“You’re too much…” my voice trailed off as Derek’s name appeared on the screen of my phone:

Derek:
You’re so fucking sexy when you talk business. As sexy as when you talk about my cock and tell me how badly you want it and how hard you want me to fuck you with it.

I couldn’t escape the dick talk. It didn’t matter. Even if Brea hadn’t brought it up, even if I wasn’t hearing it or reading it, I was thinking about it. Wanting it. Craving it more than I should have been during a business lunch.

“He’s texting you, isn’t he?” She leaned into the table and tried to peek at my phone.

“He is.” I took a sip of my wine.

“Is he talking about his dick, too? He should be. EVERYONE should be. ”

I felt the blush rise again. “No, he isn’t.”

“Liar. I can see it all over your face.” She tore off the corner of her bread and threw it at me. “Not only have you found a man who actually knows how to use his dick and one that can give you multiple orgasms, but you’ve found someone who likes to talk about it, too.” Her face was glowing. “He’s dirty. And you know I like ‘em dirty. Jesus, Frankie, I’m officially jealous.” She stood quickly and I thought she was going to come to my side of the table and read what he’d written. She took a few steps instead and looked at me over her shoulder. “I’m going to the ladies. Don’t get crazy while I’m gone—that means keeping your hands above the tablecloth
at all times
.”

“Brea!” I gasped.

She winked and walked away.

I looked back at my phone and typed a reply:

Me:
I want it. When am I getting more of it?

Derek:
Tonight. Dinner. Then I get to eat you.

Derek was used to getting everything he wanted. He wasn’t used to being challenged. Something told me he’d want me even more if I resisted a little.

Me:
I’m not sure if I’m free. Give me a little bit and I’ll check my schedule.

Derek:
Make yourself free.

Me:
I’ll see what I can do.

Derek:
The Hole. 7:00. No exceptions.

I smiled as I slipped my phone into my purse.

DEREK

I HAD TWENTY MINUTES
before I had to meet Frankie at The Hole. Twenty minutes until I got to taste those perfect lips and run my hands over that phenomenal body. I’d been thinking about her all afternoon. Fuck…I’d been thinking about her since the moment I left her condo. But issues had arisen at the jobsite today—problems with the plumbing, wrong electrical switches had been ordered, paint that came in a few shades too dark. Her texts had made it better, made it all feel insignificant. Not just the thought of having her tonight, but the thought of her, of Frankie.

The one I was supposed to stay away from, and the one I couldn’t get enough of now.

My cock had been hard almost all day—from her texts, from teasing me about dinner and not agreeing until a few hours ago, from the thought of what would happen afterward. Her lack of submission made me want to drive to her office and fuck her on her desk.

Dinner was going to be a short one.

I turned off my computer and grabbed my bag. Before I could make it past my desk, Will came into my office. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

“If it’s going to cause me to be late, then you’re right.”

“Randy’s here. He’s in the lobby and wants to speak with you. Security is with him, and they’re going to escort him out, but I wanted to tell you before they do.”

“Motherfucker.” I slammed my bag down on top of the desk. “What does he want?”

“He wouldn’t say. He just asked to speak with you… insisted, actually.” Will stepped back into the hallway. “We’ve been waiting for this. I’m surprised it took him this long to come here.”

I caught up to him and we walked to the lobby. “He couldn’t have picked a worse night.”

Randy stood near the front entrance, with security guards on both sides of him. He looked grayer, older. Beaten from exhaustion. More haggard than he had at the gala, or maybe the patio had just lacked good lighting.

Will and I stopped several feet away. My fists wouldn’t be able to reach him unless I took a few steps. “You got me here, now what do you want?”

There was always a look of confidence on his face, and I never knew why. The man had nothing—no family, no friends, not even a decent amount of success. All he had was a new piece of land in Hull that wasn’t worth what he was paying for it, a track record of shady deals, and a realtor who liked to suck my cock.

He shoved his hands into his jeans, spreading his feet apart. “I want a tour of Timber Towers, son.”

I laughed so hard, my throat went dry. “You want a tour? Of my building?”

“You followed me to Boston, so I want a goddamn tour of the building that you think is so much better than mine.” He glared at the security guard when he clamped his hand around Randy’s arm.

My building
was
better than his—all of them were, as were my residential homes. Hell, even the storage shed I had built behind my house was more sound than the shit he called quality construction. He cut corners; he used cheap materials. He barely met code. I didn’t know why anyone would ever buy from him. But the fact that he sold his units didn’t bother me as much as his total disregard for the poor, innocent bastards he employed and the conditions they worked in. They deserved better…I knew that first-hand.

“You don’t want a tour, Randy.” He didn’t flinch. “So why did you really come here?” I felt the guard’s eyes on my face, waiting for my signal to drag him out—or to hold him steady while I knocked him out. One of the two would eventually happen if this visit lasted much longer.

“I came to warn you.” His jaw jutted out. He looked like a bulldog with a severe underbite. “Stay away from my land, son. I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I don’t like it one bit.”

I didn’t know how he’d gotten the information that I’d been looking into his land. Tamra wouldn’t have been the one to tell him; I was sure she was still loyal to me, and would stay that way. I just needed to wean her completely off my dick and double-up on her pay.

“You’re not my concern, and you never have been,” I informed him. “So stop worrying about what I’m doing and start focusing on the people you
should
be worrying about.”

“For some reason, I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

“What is it that you think I want, Randy?”

He shrugged, but the answer was clear in his eyes. “My money. My power.”

Laughing again would only prove him right. And he wasn’t right—not even close. “I have my own money and my own power.”

“No, son. What you have is a whole lot of investors who fund your buildings and a pretty, long-legged agent running around town shouting your name against every investor’s cock she sticks in her mouth.”