Power Play: A Black & White Collection Story Read online

  “No.”

  Reed took a deep breath, tried to calm is ragged nerves. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. Have you?”

  Reed rested his forehead against hers and tried to catch his bearings. She was screwing with his head, messing with his needs. Fuck it.

  She reached up and let one button loose on her blouse, baring more of her gorgeous cleavage.

  No, he decided, fuck her.

  He reached down to the hem of her skirt and thrust it up, bunching the material at her waist. Yanking hard, he pulled her panties down as she resumed releasing him from his pants. Their actions were frantic, hungry and several times their hands bumped into each other in their rush to resume the fantasy.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard,” he warned. She’d pushed him too far. He’d been a loose electrical wire all night and she’d triggered the spark.

  “Do it,” she demanded. Her hand grasped his hard cock and he sucked in a pained breath. He’d never been this erect, this ready. Jesus. He’d never make it to her cunt if she kept touching him like that.

  Pulling her hand away, he took the condom from her and covered himself in one smooth, practiced move. Lifting her hips, he positioned himself at the opening of her body. Pausing, he realized he was about to take her, take this virtual stranger against the back wall of the bar. They were out in the open, in clear view should anyone venture their way. The idea was heady, the moment one of the most exciting of his life.

  “What are you waiting for?” she prodded. “An engraved invitation?”

  Smartass.

  God, she was fantastic. Fascinating. Fucked.

  Francesca moaned as the man pushed into her. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t this kind of person. She didn’t invite a complete stranger to have sex with her against the wall of a bar.

  It was stress, pure and simple. She was letting her everyday life get to her and she was acting in a way so out of character, she wasn’t sure she could even recognize the feminine voice begging the man to take her harder, faster.

  The brick wall at her back scratched her sensitive skin through her shirt, the slight pain driving her arousal higher. She was on fire, her body at war with her conscience. Sex had never been this raw, this hot, this damn good. His grip on her ass tightened as he lifted her higher. She arched her back slightly, guaranteeing he could move in deeper. The adjustment had him touching that very magical place she could usually only find alone with her vibrator. No man had ever managed the feat.

  “Jesus,” she groaned, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt, looking for something to anchor her to this spot forever. Stars started to appear behind her closed eyelids and she knew she was quickly approaching the point of no return.

  The man growled as her orgasm struck. It was no slow build-up. No gradual occurrence. It struck like lightning, flashing through her with such intensity, her toes curled in her high heels, her legs gripping his waist like a vise. He continued to thrust inside her as she came. He gave her no surcease, no rest. Her head swam with the realization he wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Thank God.

  “Put your legs down.” His voice was gruff, hard, the unfamiliar sound reminding her that she was indeed having sex with a stranger.

  She frowned, wanting to protest. She may be a shark at work, but she always played fair. He hadn’t gotten his due. “We’re not stopping. You didn’t come yet.”

  “I want to fuck you from behind.”

  His declaration sent a fresh round of juices to her pussy and she quickly complied, dropping her legs, though the damn things were unable to support her weight. He’d fucked her silly already.

  “Easy,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist, twisting her until she faced the wall. He moved her body like she was made of clay, forming her, molding her until she was positioned just the way he wanted. She’d never let a man guide her like this.

  Another part of the fantasy? She wasn’t sure, but there wasn’t time to consider her response when he shoved his cock to the hilt in one rough push.

  She moaned, her body instantly welcoming him back with a mini-climax that shuddered throughout her frame. She vaguely heard him curse and she grinned, aware of the knowledge she was shaking some of Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected’s well-practiced restraint.

  She’d seen him the second she’d entered the bar. He was hard to miss, sitting alone with a quiet confidence that seemed to proclaim the world was his for the taking. She could relate. She saw that same look in her mirror every morning. There were some people who were simply born to lead, born to conquer. She’d long ago given up fighting her nature, trying to fit into a man’s world as society’s vision of a woman. She was strong-willed, opinionated, smart and driven. She wouldn’t apologize for any of those things. One look at this stranger’s face had proven she’d found a kindred spirit.

  “Bend over more,” he commanded, his hand on her upper back, pushing her lower. She complied, her palms flat against the bricks. She used her arms not only to support her against his potent onslaught, but to move back into his painfully beautiful blows. She couldn’t get enough of him.

  “God,” she gasped. “Harder.”

  His hands on her hips tightened and he doubled his speed, pounding inside her in the way she’d only ever dreamed of. Her dominant personality tended to scare away stronger men, leaving her with bedmates who were too gentle, too meek, too fucking lame to waste her time on. She craved this man’s strength, his confidence, his skill.

  She’d covertly watched him all night, warring with herself over whether or not to approach him. The closeness she’d seen between him and Carter had solidified her decision to approach him. She knew Carter to be a shrewd, intelligent, honorable man. He wouldn’t be friends with anyone who didn’t share at least some of those traits and it was then she knew she’d offer her one-night stand. She’d been shocked when he approached her first.

  “Goddammit,” he murmured against the back of her head. She tilted her face, loving the feeling on his hot breath on her cheek as he bent over her. “So fucking good.”

  She agreed. It was perfect. His words triggered a reaction and she gave herself up to her third—and strongest—orgasm yet.

  This time, she took him down with her, his body jerking into her one, two, three more times as he came. She rested her forehead against the wall, praying it didn’t leave scratches on her face. They could be hard to explain in the morning.

  Both of them were gasping for breath, neither of them in a hurry to move, to part. She felt his cock softening in her body. It was over. Her most wicked fantasy realized. How many nights had she lain in bed and masturbated to the image of some faceless man approaching her in an alley, pushing her against the wall, taking her? She’d just given herself to a tall, dark, handsome, commanding stranger and she had to admit the reality was a hell of a lot hotter than the dream.

  Her traitorous body quivered a bit, sorry to see it end and ready to do it all again. He must have felt her reaction, so his words surprised her.

  “Stand up.”

  Regretfully, she pushed herself upright, reaching down to slip her skirt back over her hips. He pulled off the condom and disposed of it in a dumpster a few feet away before zipping up his pants. Within seconds, they were both decently covered once more.

  Her panties were lying on the ground and she bent to retrieve them, but he halted her with a firm hand on her upper arm.

  “Leave them there.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she bristled at his continually condescending tone. It wasn’t one that ever worked well with her. It reminded her too much of her strict father.

  While she’d enjoyed this stranger’s strength as he fucked her, she wasn’t a woman who would ever be commanded, ordered about.

  “No,” she said, starting to bend once more. She was surprised when he released her arm, bent down and quickly scooped up her panties before she could reach them. She held out her hand, but he shook his hea
d and put them in his pants pocket.

  “Give them to me.” She held her hand up higher.

  He grinned. “Nope. They’re mine. Little souvenir.”

  “I’m not fucking Disneyland. Give me my panties.”

  He moved forward, once more pushing her against the bar’s rough wall. Before it had been a turn-on, but now it was a power play that merely annoyed her. He may have her in the height and build category, but she wasn’t that easy to push around. “Give them to me or I’ll make you very sorry.”

  “No.”

  He turned quickly as she struck, her knee finding only his firm, muscular thigh.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t be so quick to maim me, sweetheart. What about round two?”

  Now it was her turn to shake her head. “There won’t be a round two. I got what I wanted. Game over.”

  She expected her self-assured tone to do the trick, call him off. God knew it worked on at least ninety-nine percent of the people she’d ever met. All she had to do was look the person in the eye, give them the tone, and they’d back off. No matter what the argument. This man didn’t move.

  “Not yet, it’s not.”

  “Excuse me. I told you what I wanted and I got it. Now step away and give me my panties.”

  “I’m keeping the panties.”

  “Listen, you son of a b—”

  He cut off her words with a firm hand on her chin, interrupting her. “I’ll pay you for them.”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He was standing too close, holding her too sweetly. No one caressed her, coddled her, but that’s what this felt like. “Pay me? I’m rich. I don’t need your money.”

  He laughed. “I wasn’t talking about money. I was talking about this.”

  He bent down, leaned in for a kiss. She panicked. “No.” She turned her head at the last moment, his lips grazing her cheek as she twisted. “No kisses.”

  “Why not?” He was still standing too close and his question tickled her ear. She could tell by his tone he was undeterred.

  “Because I don’t want you to kiss me. That’s not what this was about.”

  He leaned back and she breathed a bit easier. “Just sex with a stranger.”

  She nodded.

  “I want to see you again.”

  She barked out a laugh. “No. No way. In case you haven’t been paying attention, we’ve already stretched our compatibility limits to the hilt. A few more words from either of us and the cable’s gonna break and slice us both in half.”

  He seemed to enjoy her assessment and she could see by the look in his eyes, he agreed. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.” She hadn’t meant her words as a joke, but his laughter seemed to insinuate that he’d taken them that way.

  “You are a very interesting woman, Francesca.”

  She shrugged, but a small part of her liked his flattering remark. Knew that coming from this man it was high praise indeed.

  “Keep the panties,” she said at last, pushing against his chest. He took two steps back and she knew it wasn’t because of her force, but because he was ready to free her.

  “I’d planned on it.”

  She snorted out a brief laugh. Oh yeah, they’d never be able to coexist in the same room for more than three minutes. Neither of them willing to give an inch.

  “You have a very pretty smile.”

  She sucked in a breath at the compliment. Men didn’t shower her with flowery words. She wondered if they thought she was so self-confident she didn’t need them.

  “Thank you.” Though she’d spoken them in response to his comment, she realized she was thanking him for much more than that. “I have to go. Early day tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Me too. Good night, Francesca.”

  She gave him another smile. “Good night, stranger.”

  As she walked back into the bar, her thoughts whirled over the evening and her actions. In her professional life, she was used to taking what she wanted, fighting to achieve every goal she’d ever set for herself. Tonight was the first time she’d done the same for her personal life.

  “Hey, Joe.” She waved to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Leaving?”

  She nodded as he bent down to retrieve her briefcase, handing it to her.

  “Happy Birthday, Francesca.”

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell are you doing?” Reed wanted to wince at his opening line. He’d rehearsed his speech to his uncle all evening. After watching Francesca leave, he’d gone back into the bar and had another beer, reliving the hottest sexual experience of his life over and over, until he realized the night wasn’t getting any younger. The liaison in the alley had worked the trick—soothing the rough edges and he’d actually felt calm. Ready to confront his uncle without anger, without emotion.

  That feeling lasted ten minutes into the work day. Then he learned his uncle had fired his marketing partner, replacing the man without his knowledge or input, and his head had nearly exploded off his shoulders.

  “I’m drinking coffee, like I do every morning. What the hell are you doing?” His uncle’s condescending tone caused his vision to turn a cloudy red.

  Brian had taken him under his wing the day Reed had graduated top of his class in high school. He’d pulled him aside at his graduation party and announced he was paying Reed’s way through college. Told him he’d been accepted to NYU’s School of Business and after he earned his degree, he’d be working off the school loan at his uncle’s successful marketing company, The Donovan Group.

  It was still amazing to Reed that he’d never blinked twice at his uncle’s offer, never balked at his controlling gesture. Mainly because it felt as if his uncle had looked into his heart and read his dreams.

  Now, for the first time ever, he was starting to reconsider that dream.

  “You fired Mitchell? Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Brian took a sip of his coffee, moving at a leisurely pace, while Reed paced before his desk, with his fists clenched.

  “The man was inept. He cost the company two large bids. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  Reed grinned, though there was no humor behind the smile. “What I know is that we would have won those accounts if you hadn’t sent me off to London to do your dirty work. I should have been here.”

  “Maybe.”

  His uncle’s softly spoken comment cut through him like a knife. “No. No maybe. I would have landed those bids. Those clients would be ours.”

  Brian leaned back in his chair, assuming a position Reed was all too familiar with. His uncle’s silent regard sent his hackles up. Reed was a damn good marketing exec. He knew it, knew his stuff. He knew how to sell products and how to sell his uncle’s company to clients. The fact his uncle had seen fit to put his true talents aside while thrusting him in such a menial job rubbed against the grain—and pissed him off.

  “I’m going to ask you one more time. Why did you send me to London, Brian? I’m not a goddamned office manager and you know it.”

  Brian’s eyes narrowed for just a second and Reed knew his words had hit their mark. Brian never felt beholden to explain his reasoning to anyone. Never.

  Unfortunately, rather than respond to his hostile words, his uncle recovered almost immediately and Reed knew he’d never get an answer.

  “I needed your skills in London. It’s as simple as that.”

  “You needed my skills here. I think those lost bids should prove that to you.” Reed took a deep breath, feeling certain he had scored a point. There was no way his uncle could deny the fact he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “In your absence, it was Mitchell’s job to hold down the fort, represent this company. He failed.”

  “Mitchell’s a good marketing man.” Reed wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to stand up for his former partner. They’d never exactly been friends, but they’d worked together amicably enough.

  Brian shook his head. “
Mitchell was a doormat. He was content to hover in the background, to let you do all the work. He was just lazy and stupid enough to kowtow to your demanding nature. I don’t employ that sort at The Donovan Group. I need people who can stand on their own two feet, think for themselves.”

  Reed slammed his fists down on his uncle’s desk, leaned closer. “Mitchell was good at what he did.” Reed didn’t acknowledge that his partner’s so-called strengths were to do the parts of the job he abhorred—the paperwork, the busy work. He’d been little more than a personal assistant, but Reed wasn’t about to admit that fact to his uncle. “We were a successful team, dammit.”

  “There was no teamwork involved. Mitchell’s failure to win the last two bids proved that. You did the work, carried the brunt of the thinking and planning. He was simply along for the ride.”

  Reed sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes. He didn’t know how to explain to Brian that he preferred it that way. He was used to calling the shots, being in charge. He didn’t relish the thought of trying to break in some fresh-faced hotshot. He was too set it in his ways. “I should have been involved in hiring his replacement. I’m the man who’s going to have to work with this new partner. I should have been included in the interviews, the hiring process.”

  “Who owns this company, Reed?”

  Reed turned away. Fuck. It was his uncle’s conversation-ending question. Every argument they’d had in the past always ended this way, with that simple question. There was no rebuttal, no denying Brian owned and ruled The Donovan Group in his iron-clad fist.

  “Great, Brian. Very enlightening. Thanks so much for clearing up nothing. Can you tell me this at least? Can you tell who the fuckhead is that you’ve hired to replace Mitchell?”

  His words were deep, angry and, despite his efforts to shield the emotion, hurt. He’d given his life to The Donovan Group. Worked his ass off to see its continued success.

  “Frankie Carlyle.”

  Reed stopped in mid-pace. “What?”

  Brian leaned forward and Reed could tell by the look on his uncle’s face he thought he was sharing some exciting news. “I stole Frankie Carlyle away from The Wilkerson Team. Think of it, Reed. You and Frankie working together. The Donovan Group will be unbeatable, unstoppable.”