Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

She cleared her throat, soft and ladylike. “Good morning, Aidan.”

Still she wouldn’t look at me. I remembered pushing her skirt up, pushing her thighs apart, and tasting her. I remembered what she tasted like and the sounds she made. I remembered making her come. Twice.

I could tell she was remembering the same thing. She just wasn’t going to admit it.

Right there, in that moment, was when I decided to push her to the edge. Over it, if possible. I wanted to see how far we could go.

I glanced behind me to check that no one was in earshot, that the security guard was sitting behind his desk, looking somewhere else. Then I dropped my voice and said, “Honey.”

Samantha started, blinked. She looked at me. “What?”

“Honey,” I said. “That’s what you tasted like.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth actually opened as her jaw dropped. Then the elevator dinged, the doors opening.

I put a hand to Samantha’s elbow and guided her in, then pressed the button. The doors closed and we were alone.

Now her neck was flushing red. “We’re at work,” she said. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Yes, I can. It’s an astute observation, considering I could still taste you when I got home last night. I replayed the sounds you make when you come while I jerked off in the shower.”

“Aidan.” She swallowed her shock and pressed her lips together. “I suppose I’m glad you enjoyed it. You certainly left fast enough.”

I glanced at her. We were standing shoulder to shoulder, almost touching but not quite. She wasn’t looking at me. “You didn’t like that?” I asked.

Her lips thinned even more. “Was I supposed to?”

“I don’t know. You’re the queen of fast exits.”

The doors opened on our floor. Samantha strode out, across the open office. I followed her. The receptionist was at her desk and a few other people were working. If they watched us, I didn’t notice.

She unlocked her office and ducked inside, but I stood in the doorway before she could shut me out. I leaned on the doorframe and watched her put down her purse. “Don’t you have your own office to go to?” she asked.

“I’m the boss,” I reminded her. “Look at me.”

“Aidan, this is completely—”

“Look at me.”

She finally turned and faced me, flustered, her skin flushed. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

I wanted her. I wanted Samantha. Rules or no rules. She was what I wanted.

“I think we’re going to renegotiate the game,” I said.

Now she started to look outraged. “We’re not renegotiating. And we can’t do it here.”

“Where, if not here? My place? I’m up for it. You already have the codes to my penthouse.”

“Are you being a pig on purpose, or is it just your natural state?”

“I’m being your boss and the man who plays your game whenever you want it.”

“My game?” she said. “It’s your game, too.”

She was right. I’d liked being a pilot, picking up an office girl while he was in town for a few hours. I’d liked being an art dealer and a stranger picking up a girl in the rain, too. But the game, for me, wasn’t the end goal. I knew that now. Samantha was the end goal.

I hadn’t always gotten what I wanted in life. In fact, I rarely had. Strange thing for a rich man to say, but true. If I wanted Samantha, I already knew I’d have to work for it. And I already knew she’d