Just One Inch

Because Manning Pharma is a family biz. Sure, I’m the CEO, but my brother Matt runs the marketing side, Caleb is the technical whiz, and Cade is the finance guru. Our strategy was to maintain one hundred percent ownership, never ceding control to outsiders.

And lo and behold, our little experiment worked. We’re now extraordinarily wealthy men, the kind who have all sorts of toys, gadgets, whatever money can buy. In fact, I’m thinking of purchasing a G5 soon. Why not? I travel frequently, and it’s always nicer to fly on your own private jet.

But first things first. The past month was a fucking whirlwind of meetings with bankers, lawyers, even those pricks at the SEC. Fuckers all wanted a piece of Manning but that shit’s over for now and it’s time to party. I’d invited some friends to my place to chill, and could see that they’d invited a bunch of randoms. Now my pad was packed with gyrating partiers, some a little drunk off their asses.

I could see a group of super-hot girls shimmying in the living room, a particular blonde glancing my way now and then, giving me that come-hither glance. Hmm, not bad. She was lean and leggy, with good rhythm and a certain sluttiness that always comes through. But my eye was caught by a brunette in the corner, her back turned to me, a juicy derriere pointed my way. She looked decent, like an honest female, so much so that I was almost tempted to leave her alone.

I said almost. But not quite.

I strode over, aware that multiple female eyes trailed me. No worries. It’s not that often you meet a newly-minted billionaire.

The brunette didn’t even sense me coming, she was so engrossed in conversation with a friend. I took the opportunity to look at her close-up. Yeah, exactly my type. Curvy, with a big ass and a juicy rack too, just the way I liked it. I could see that her skin was a creamy milk-color, the kind that begs to be devoured. Her hair was a glossy brown, curly and tucked behind her ears. Too bad she was wearing some shapeless thing, a big plaid lumberjack shirt that almost went down to her knees.

She was murmuring something in a low voice to her friend, but the friend had since stopped paying attention and was looking at me with shock.

“Um, Tina …,” was all the friend could manage. Tina, huh? Well, Tina finally noticed my shadow and spun around to see who’d barged in.

Obviously, she had no idea who I was.

“Can I help you?” she asked frostily. I noticed her eyes were a warm, caramel brown, belying the cool tone of her voice.

“Hey,” I said with a knowing smile. I knew what would happen next. Girls can’t resist the Manning charm and I expected the same from her too, the same coy “I want you but I don’t” act.

But the brunette was steadfastly stubborn. “Is that a reply?” she said archly, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “Because if it was, I’m not sure there was a question.”

Smart and sassy, huh? I loved her voice. The low tones were soothing to my ears, like a relaxing glass of wine amid the raucous din. I could feel the headache I’d developed melting away just from the sultry melody and the urge to pull her into my arms asap grew even stronger. But obviously, this wasn’t going to be an easy lay. I was going to have to charm her, really lay it on thick.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” I drawled. I heard a gasp, but it wasn’t from Tina. It was the friend, who unceremoniously shoved the brunette into my arms, those lush curves tumbling against me as she tripped and fell. The heat between our bodies was electric, the shock immediate. My dick lost its mind and punched out against my fly, painfully reminding me that I hadn’t been laid in months.

I took the opportunity to sweep the brunette up in my arms, shouldering aside guests as I made my way to the terrace. Once outside, the snap of the San Francisco breeze bit us, almost painfully cold, so I turned her to stand in my lee, shielding the warm, curvy body from the worst of the elements.

“Let me down!” she sputtered, not too gracefully, indignantly glaring up at me. Laughing, I did as she asked, letting her feel my masculine hardness as she slid against my body. As soon as her toes touched land, she backed away from me, but only a step, bumping into the balcony with her butt.

“Careful sweetheart,” I murmured, drawing her close again. “It’s a long ways down from the penthouse.”

She spun around to gaze off the terrace and shuddered, reflexively stepping back into my embrace. Hey, a thousand feet is a lot, and when there’s a strong San Francisco wind blowing at your back, I can see why you’d cling to the closest living thing that appears sturdy and warm.