Taylored to Perfection (Taylor Made Book 2) Page 3

  “Yeah. You can help me by sucking my dick. You must be one cock-sucking piece of ass to get the free ride you’re getting.”

  Before I can say anything Reggie is standing between me and the leader. Comically, I think I look bigger than he does and wonder who’s protecting who.

  “Lo-lo-lo-look, fellas. I’ll let you go and we can pretend this never happened, but if you say another word to her like that again, we’re going to have some problems.”

  Okay, maybe Reggie has more game than I thought.

  “Yeah, Urkel? What are you going to do?”

  I peep around Reggie’s shoulder looking at the guys.

  “Urkel? Really? What are you, four? Your threats are as ridiculous as you are. His grandmother could take you.”

  “She’s right. You’re right, Miss Emme.” He looks back to me laughing. “Now there’s someone to be scared of.” He fakes a shiver like just the thought of her scares him.

  I can see the blood rising on the leader’s face. We’ve touched a sore spot.

  “Hey, Mags. What’s going on? Adam walks up, looking from me to the guys. Reggie’s protective stance alerts him that something is going on.

  “Nothing, Adam. Reggie and I were just leaving.” I grab his orange and nudge him a little to get him stepping. He gives one last disdained look before he finally takes a step.

  “What did you think you were going to do back there? When I nudge you, we walk,” I chastise him.

  “Did I look scared? Cause I ain’t gonna lie, Miss Emme, I was a little scared. Three on one? They might have messed up my moneymaker.” He draws a circle in the air around his face. “I was on it, though, wasn’t I? They were scared. Like blood in the water. I could smell it on them.”

  The elevator stops at the forty-second floor and he steps out, straightening his tie. “A man’s work is never done.”

  I shake my head as the elevator closes and takes me up one more floor. Graham is walking towards me as I step off.

  “I told you 11:45.”

  “I’m here aren’t I?” My words and tone draw the eyes of his staff. Was he getting on the elevator or did he know I was getting off?

  “In my office. Now!” He thunders.

  I follow, rolling my eyes. I’m almost certain I heard one of his assistants giggle.

  “Hello, Emme!” George greets me cheerfully.

  “We’re not to be disturbed,” Graham orders, holding the office door open for me.

  “Hello, George.” I stop to converse with him, when Graham fires out a few more orders for me to get moving.

  “No happy dance for me today,” I say to George. He’s about to return a smile when Graham shoots him a look.

  “Right. Yes, sir. Not to be disturbed.”

  Graham pushes a button when we enter and I hear the door click. He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there and glares at me.

  “Keep your smart mouth closed,” he commands when he sees me about to speak.

  Graham’s office is large and sparsely decorated with significant pieces of art. It boasts three views: the main one overlooking the water, the others the city.

  Grabbing my arm, he pulls me towards a wall that has a doorway built into it. Unless you’ve seen him use it before you would never know it’s there; it blends into the paneling. We enter into a short hallway that opens onto a living area with a large bedroom and bathroom off to the side.

  “You live here?” I ask in surprise. I walk toward one of the windows but take a quick step back when I see that it looks down forty-three floors.

  “No. I sometimes stay if I’m working late. Mostly I use the space after I work out in the gym downstairs.”

  He circles me.He takes two deliberate steps and is on me before I can respond.

  “What the hell do you think you’re wearing today?”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? You didn’t have a problem with it in the elevator this morning. I thought I looked nice,” I pout.

  “You look like every man’s wet dream. That’s what you look like.” He has me against the window, my hands above me. He runs his nose down mine.

  “Is it your goal to make every man you pitch to want to fuck you?”

  “No,” I bristle. Is he serious?

  “Strip.” As he takes off his tie and unbuttons his shirt, his eyes never leave mine.

  “Graham, the affair is over. Done. Separate ways remember?”

  “Strip or I will rip them off. Do you want to have to wear a robe to our next meeting?” He drops his pants where he’s standing, exposing his erection.

  Reflexively, I wet my lips, and my clit pulses.

  “Your body is ridiculous,” I sigh.

  “Thank you, but it’s your body I’m interested in. Last chance. Strip.”

  Slowly, because who am I kidding, I want this as much as he does, I remove my blouse and place it over a chair. I unzip my skirt. His eyes burning, he runs his thumb over the tips of his fingers.

  One by one, I undo the hooks on the bustier, dropping it to the floor. I raise my foot to remove my heels when Graham stops me.

  “Leave them.”

  I am standing in front of him in nothing but heels and silk thigh-highs.

  “Turn around.”

  I do as I’m told. I remove the clip holding my hair up so that it cascades down my back.

  “Bend over.”

  I look at him over my shoulder. He waits. Slowly I bend over, my ass in the air.

  He walks up behind me and rubs his hand over, down, and around my ass as if he’s studying it.

  “I almost lost it when you bent over to pick up that packet. Every man in that room was looking at your ass—my ass. They were coveting what belongs to me, wondering what it would feel like to be inside you.” One hand continues to circle my ass while his other moves to my sex, skimming his fingers just inside the folds. A deep moan escapes both of us.

  “God, you’re so wet.”

  “Graham,” I whimper. I’ve missed his touch. The elevator this morning only solidified how much.

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like a fucking lifetime,” Graham says. His hands leave me and I start to stand.

  “I’m in charge, Emelia, you don’t move until I tell you to.” He slides a chair in front of me.

  “Put your hands on the seat.” I comply.

  Graham is behind me again, his hands clutching my hips.

  “Hold on,” he warns before he slams into me from behind. I almost lose my grip on the chair.

  “Tighter, Emelia,” Graham warns again as he quickens his pace. His grip is firm, almost bruising.

  My breasts sway back and forth as he slides in and out of me, his pelvis touching my ass each time. He relinquishes one hand long enough to push the middle of my back and shoulders down towards the chair, positioning my hips at an angle so that he can go deeper.

  A familiar feeling begins to build in me and my hips push back against him, wanting more. His hand slaps my ass hard.

  “Who’s in control, Emelia?”

  I moan something incoherent, which elicits a harder slap than the last one.

  “Did I ask you a question?”

  “Yes.”

  Slap!

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Graham,” I moan. I’m so close.

  Slap!

  “Yes what?” he demands through clenched teeth. Trying to hold onto his control.

  “Yes, sir,” I grit through my teeth, greedily pushing back on him, chasing my orgasm.

  “Fuck all, Emelia!” He pulls out of me just as I’m about to come, catching me when my knees buckle from his withdrawal.

  “What the fuck, Graham?”

  His hand hooks around my waist and carries me backwards to the couch, maneuvering me over his knee. He rests my head on the cushion.

  His slap is much harder this time, and I move my hands behind me covering my ass.

  “You’re only making it worse, Emelia. I’m sick and tired of
having the same conversation. Move your hands.”

  “We were having a conversation?”

  He holds my wrists in his one hand, giving him back full access to my ass.

  Slap!

  “Unless your smart mouth is wrapped around my cock, keep it closed. Do you understand?”

  Crack! Another blow.

  “Answer me!”

  “I understand.”

  My voice is so sexed up I hardly recognize it. Each slap is directly connected to my sex. His hand rubs the stinging areas.

  “Emelia.” He sinks two fingers in me, and it’s almost enough to send me over the edge.

  “I understand, sir,” I comply pushing back on him, brazenly using him to pleasure myself.

  SLAP!

  “I say when, Emelia. I’m in charge. I don’t want to have this conversation again. You submit to me. Do you understand?”

  I can feel the wetness coating the inside of my thighs. Graham pulls his fingers out and waits for my submission. I want to give it to him. I need Graham in charge. Things make sense when he is. I don’t want to be in control of us. I trust him. I need him.

  “I understand, Graham.”

  “Tell me what you understand.”

  “That you’re in charge.”

  “I am. What does that mean?”

  Damn to hell. He wants his cake and to eat it too. I’m expecting another pop, looking forward to it actually, but it never comes. Instead he lovingly rubs me and waits. His waiting speaks louder to me than anything else could. I finally understand what Graham has been pushing me for. I am in control of giving him my submission. I’m the only one that can give him control. It’s not something he can take from me. He wants me to give my submission to him. He doesn’t want to sex it out of me, take it from me, stronghold it from me. It’s a revelation that swells within me.

  “It means I’m submitting to you. I want you to be in charge. I understand…please.”

  Before I am aware of what’s happening, Graham has both our knees on the floor and is inside me again. His hands envelop mine as he moves in and out of me. His breathing is ragged at my ear. His arms wrap around me, our fingers still entwined when he whispers my name from behind me, sending me over the precipice, him right on my heels.

  Dragging air into our lungs, we lie together trying to get a grasp on what just happened. It was a turning point, and for me there is no going back.

  I pull his arms tighter around me, willing their warmth and calmness to infuse me with the strength to say what I cannot leave unsaid.

  “What is it?” Graham nuzzles my neck.

  “I need to tell you something and I don’t want you to freak out. I don’t want you to think I’m some young silly girl who’s naïve. I just need you to understand that I need to say this because I think it is the right thing for me. Can you remember that for me?”

  “Em, baby. You can say anything to me.”

  I take a deep breath and exhale it. Graham tightens his grip on me.

  “I love you, Graham.”

  It hangs there for a minute. I can feel Graham holding his breath.

  “Breathe, baby,” I tell him. “When you lose the people who mean the most to you, it teaches you not to let a minute pass without telling those important to you that you love them. When you gave me the choice to submit or not, I knew I had to tell you. I love you. I do.” I squeeze his hands and continue. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds and I’m not expecting, wanting, or needing you to say it back. I won’t be upset or hurt that you don’t. But I also can’t let you leave here without you knowing this. I’ve made that mistake before, thinking I had time to say it, only to find out that I would never have the chance again. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  I close my eyes and pray I haven’t freaked him out. It’s too soon, I know. But I have to be true to myself. And my true self would tell him.

  Graham pulls out of me and without a word he lifts me into his arms and carries me to his bed. Gentle fingers continue to skate over my back and shoulders while his other hand strokes my hair. The repetitive pattern is hypnotic and I nearly fall asleep. He plants a tender kiss to my shoulder. “Baby, we have to get up if we are going to make the meeting in time.”

  “Fuck the meeting,” I mumble into the pillow.

  He chuckles and brings my mouth to his.

  “Up,” he orders, swatting me on my behind. He unfolds his body from underneath me and slides to the edge of the bed. I run my hand over his back. Every muscle is defined. I dart my tongue over a couple of them, causing him to stand faster.

  “I already don’t want to leave. You starting that will only ensure Adam will have to run the meeting without us.” He leaves and comes back to run a cloth between my legs.

  I stretch the soreness out of my body, rubbing a hand over my behind. It’s only mildly tender.

  “Do I have time for a shower?” I ask, looking at my watch.

  “Even if you do, I don’t want you to shower. I want to know that I’m on you while you’re doing the pitch.”

  “You’re a caveman,” I tease. “And I need an underwear drawer if you’re going to keep ripping mine.”

  I’m dressed and check one of the mirrors to make sure my face is presentable. It’s a little flushed, but I’ll make it.

  “I need to grab some notes. I’ll see you in the conference room, okay?”

  Graham crosses the room, and cups my jaw, his lips skimming first my top lip then softly biting my bottom lip. I see an uneasiness in his eyes. Did I tell him too soon? Maybe, but I had to be true to myself. I raise to my tiptoes and kiss him on his forehead before leaving him.

  When I leave his office, George is polite and discreet despite the fact that he has to know what we were doing. I make it to my office and close the door. I just need a minute to pull myself together. We are pitching to three companies that Adam added in the final hour, so I have to review my notes. I didn’t have the time to research them like I did the others, so I am having to rely on the background he provided. Forrester, Simms, and Jones are the CEO’s of their respective Fortune 500 companies. Two publically traded, one individually owned.

  Crap! I’m late. Way to make an impression, James, I think as I double-time it to get to the conference room. When I enter the conference room, Graham shoots me a questioning look. Thankfully, Adam started the presentation without me. Their father, Ben, has joined the meeting since I am pitching one of his friends.

  I watch Adam finish the first slide. He’s become such an important person in my life. Without question he is supporting this project and bringing the CEOs to me. There is no way I get an audience with CEOs from Fortune 500 companies because I had a whim that this would work. If it weren’t for Adam and Jackson’s connections and love for this endeavor, it would have never happened.

  Adam motions for me to take the lead. His eyes hold mine for a moment and I know he sees the love and gratitude in mine for who he is to me. I slide comfortably into the presentation. I recognize Simms and Jones from the pictures on their companies’ websites, but the third man at the table is not Forrest Forrester—he is much younger. About 45, maybe 50. I was really hoping to meet Mr. Forrester, if for no other reason than to find out if that was a family name, or if his parents had a sense of humor. This guy who is here in his place, I don’t know who he is. There’s something that seems off about the way he is looking at me. There’s something about him I can’t shake and it rattles me just enough to throw me off my presentation a little.

  Graham speaks and I realize he is answering a question that was asked and I missed. He sets it up for me to finish the answer, his concerned eyes catching mine, noticing that I’m off. I shake it off as I distribute the information packets that include the next steps if they choose to participate. When I circle around to Graham, he smirks when my eyes land on the material he has added to the breast pocket of his jacket—my silk underwear folded into a pocket square. I blush, and the twinkle in his eye tells me he’s enjoyin
g this game.

  “If we decide to proceed, how much time would we have to commit to you one-on-one to get the program set up?” Simms asks me.

  “I would need an hour of your direct time. After that I would only need access to the point person you want to oversee the program.”

  I offer more question and answer time, but it’s not needed. Adam says goodbye to each of them as I wrap up with them individually.

  I shake the unknown’s hand. “You’ll have to forgive me. I was expecting Mr. Forrester, and since I was rudely tardy, I don’t know your name.”

  “I’m Mr. Forrester.” His smile is kind but his eyes seem to be searching mine.

  “Forrest Forrester?”

  “No, I’m Harry. Forrest is my father.”

  “I’m Emme. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

  “Ben speaks very highly of you.” This is the friend Ben mentioned.

  “He’s very kind and possibly a bit biased.” I smile and something flitters across his face. Shock maybe? Something is definitely off.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been trying to place your accent. Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Memphis.”

  “Tennessee?”

  I nod, like where else would Memphis be. I think he realizes it was a silly question.

  “It’s just you remind me so much of someone. It’s uncanny, really. She was from Tennessee, too, but not from Memphis.”

  “Small world.”

  We shake hands, and I place my left hand over our joined hands. It’s a personal move I’ve learned makes a difference when trying to make an impression. It’s more familiar than a handshake. He looks down at our hands. He seems transfixed. I look at Ben and Graham who look equally confused.

  “Will you be making the decision or will it be your father?” I ask at the same time he looks at me and says, “Laura?”

  Before either of us can totally register what the other said, a man I finally recognize, Forrest Forrester, enters and answers.

  “Magnus and I will be making the decision together.”

  I look at him, paling, hit by a wave of nausea. “Magnus?” I ask weakly.

  “That’s my given name. But everyone calls me Harry, from my middle name, Harrison.”