Professional Sin (6 page)

Winston suddenly looks over at me. “I’m certain I know you,” he says loudly, and all the pleasurable feelings are replaced by cold dread.

“Winston—” says Romeo.

“From court,” Winston persists. “You’re too young to be a lawyer.”

“I’m not a lawyer,” I say. “And I’ve never served jury duty, never been sued.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. I realize it the moment the words leave my mouth, even before recognition dawns in Winston’s eyes. “You’re the girl who passed out and hit her head at the amusement park!”

He’s so proud of himself, so goddamn triumphant, his voice so loud that everyone in the room is looking over.

My face is surely beet red. I think I’m going to topple over.

“What do you mean?” Hawthorne asks. “Amusement park?”

Winston suddenly blinks in confusion. “No, not the right girl,” he says slowly. “That was five or six years ago, but you look just like her. Same blonde hair and everything.”

When he says this, my stomach twists in knots. He’s right. I’m not the person he’s thinking of. That would be my sister, the one I left behind.

The one I abandoned.

And suddenly I feel all that coffee and water churning in my stomach, but it might as well be acid because everything inside me burns. If I don’t sit down in the next few seconds, I’m going to pass out.
 

“Definitely the wrong girl. That’s not even her natural hair color. Imagine her as a mousey brunette,” Hawthorne says, and Winston is shaking his head, his hands up in surrender.
 

But Hawthorne’s quip takes me back to the day he humiliated me in the Sunrise Imports office. The sense of loss and panic is replaced with anger.

“My natural hair color is none of your fucking business,” I growl to Hawthorne. “Maybe you should spend less time obsessing over my hair color and where I bought my lingerie and more time working on a way to remove that stick up your ass.”

Slade throws back his head and laughs.
 

The other people are quickly leaving the room, and I get it. What I just said is way past inappropriate.
 

“Talking like that, it sounds to me like you need to be reminded of your place,” Hawthorne says, his voice low and threatening.

“My
place
?” Now I’m beyond anger. I’m furious, the kind that makes me feel like one spark and I could explode.
 

“Yes. Your
place
. You’re an employee. I’m the boss.”

“Hawthorne. Lindsay. I need you both to take a deep breath,” Romeo says. “Lindsay, sit down.”
 

I hear his words but they don’t quite connect until Slade maneuvers me into a chair. Romeo easily covers the distance to the door and slams it shut.

Hawthorne leans back against the table, his right hand curled over the top edge. Despite his casual pose, I see the tension in his twitching fingers.

Nervously, I glance around the room. It’s just the four of us now.
 

“Who are you?” Romeo asks from behind me. “The truth.”

All sorts of lies well up in my throat. A million previous identities. I could choose one, toss it down on the table, spin a story to match. I could walk out of here, get in my car, step on the accelerator and not stop until I run out of gas, miles and miles away.
 

Romeo grabs the arms of my chair and whips it around. As I take stock of his furious expression, I realize that getting away isn’t going to be so easy.

“Does it matter?” Slade asks. “We all have our secrets.”

But Romeo doesn’t seem to hear him. His attention is laser-focused on me, his brown eyes hard.
 

Romeo was the one who took a chance on me, and my betrayal of him shames me. I sit there, pinned by his furious gaze and unable to give voice to the lie in my throat.

He waits. I struggle.
 

And then something like the truth comes out. “Winston is partially right. He’s thinking of my sister.”

Romeo waits. They all do. I lick my painfully dry lips, and I stare at the light switch just beyond Romeo’s hulking shoulder.
 

“My grandfather made his fortune because he never met a lawsuit he didn’t like,” I say.
 

“He’s a lawyer?” Romeo asks.

Humiliation washes over me as I shake my head. “He’d… He was always looking for an uneven curb to trip over, a hotel room shelf with a loose screw… a poorly constructed amusement park ride.” I swallow. “So I ran away.”

Romeo’s large hand lifts my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “Why would you run away because of that?”

“He realized he could get much bigger settlements if a child was…” I don’t say
harmed
. “If a kid was involved.”

Hawthorne is laughing quietly, and irritation surges inside me. I’m laid bare, and he’s mocking me. I begin to tremble. I want to leave, but I’m not going anywhere yet, not with Romeo hovering over me and blocking my way while he dissects me with his intense gaze.
 

“Believe whatever you want, Hawthorne,” I say. “For every settlement he won, there were plenty that failed.”

“What do you mean?” Slade asks, his expression hard.
 

I shrug.

“An example,” Slade demands.

“Ok. Um… a month before I ran away, on my sixteenth birthday, we all went out to dinner to celebrate. Our grandfather suggested I bring my two best friends, but Layla—my sister—and I hated going anywhere as a family. We knew what would happen. So I lied, told our grandfather my friends were busy. He was furious, and he called their parents. In the end, they came along.”
 

My jaw trembles slightly at the memory of walking into the restaurant and seeing Stacy and Aggie there, excited smiles on their faces and wrapped packages in their hands.

“Go on,” Hawthorne says, his voice low.

“Dinner was fine, but when the waiters brought out the birthday cake…” My voice trails off. I can still hear my friends’ screams as my grandfather spit out a broken tooth. “It turned into a litigious moment. I started planning my escape that night.” My jaw shuts closed firmly, and I meet Romeo’s eyes.

Technically, I haven’t lied. That was indeed the night I started planning, but when I left, it was in a panic. I ran to save my life and didn’t stop, didn’t even consider stopping until the moment Romeo wrapped me in his arms and briefly made me feel safe.

But Hawthorne, Slade and Romeo don’t need to hear any of that.
 

Romeo lowers to a crouch in front of me, his position no longer a silent threat. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks gently.

I shrug.
 

“Where were your parents? Your grandmother?” Slade asks.

“Dead,” I say flatly, and the pity in Slade’s eyes makes me jerk my gaze away.

“What’s your name?” Hawthorne asks.

“Lindsay,” I say. “My last name doesn’t matter.” Of course I know they can look it up with a little help from Winston, and they will, but I won’t say my family name aloud.
 

“You should have told us,” Romeo insists.

I nod, and he pulls me into an unexpected embrace. Surrounded by a man Romeo’s size, it’s impossible not to feel protected. I want to fall asleep cradled in his arms, to wake up with him wrapped around me.

The feeling of security gives way to another emotion entirely. I’m grateful to him, to them all, and I’m relieved and a little giddy.
 

The combination is fuel poured onto my simmering libido. I want them inside me, Romeo in particular, and it’s not wholly sexual. I feel fragile, and I need to be touched, to feel accepted.

But also, I’m horny as hell.

Sighing, I relax against him. He’s like a wall draped in expensive fabric. I look up at him, and when his gaze lands on mine, true words cross my lips.

“I need you—”

I don’t get a chance to tell him I need to be fucked because his mouth presses against mine. His kiss tastes faintly of scotch.
 

When I kiss him back, he allows it for a moment, then pulls me away, his hand wrapped in my hair. “You want us to fuck you?”

Even before his words fully register, heat pools low in my stomach, and a little shudder runs through me.

Chapter 7

They make me get onto the table. I’m not allowed to remove my clothing.

I lie there, thinking that pillows were invented for a reason.

The three men line up, shoulder to shoulder.

The wild look in Slade’s eyes and his quick breathing aren’t half as revealing as the obscene erection trying to rip through his pants. I remember how he tortured me in the meeting and in the limo, and how badly I wanted him.

Now I want him even more. I want to feel him in my mouth and pressing inside of me.

Romeo is… Romeo. I have unfinished business with his huge cock, and I won’t let him walk away unsatisfied again. But judging from the focus in his eyes, he intends to fuck me senseless in the very near future.

Only Hawthorne looks unhappy. He doesn’t seem as resistant as before, but I’m thinking he knows there’s more to my story. I stare at him, silently pleading for him not to ruin this.

Shaking his head slowly, he hooks a finger behind the knot of his silk tie and saws until it loosens.

That seems to be what the others are waiting for. Slade leans on the table. “Unbutton your blouse and take it off. Slowly.”

I pull the creamy fabric from my waistband. The blouse practically opens of its own accord, the buttons slipping loose from their holes.

As I wriggle it off my shoulders, Romeo makes a low, gruff noise.
 

He’s looking at my bra, and I feel my face heat. He told me before that he doesn’t approve of underwire and padding.

“It’s not the same one from the night we met,” I point out.

“Take it off,” he says, displeasure thickening his voice.
 

Might as well do it in style. I arch on the table, my knees bent, my breasts thrusting into the air and my lower back hollowing. The table is cool on my arm as I twist my wrist behind my back.

Oh. It’s a front closure. I forgot which one I was wearing.

Still arched, I trail my fingers over the swollen cups and unhook the fastener, but I don’t let the pieces fall. I wish Romeo would let me keep it on; it does amazing things for my chest.

Irritation in his eyes, he leans over and yanks the cups open. My breasts, no longer supported, abandon their perky positions.

“Look at yourself,” Romeo says. His attention is focused on my nipples, and lust colors his eyes.
 

I glance down.
 

My breasts are mediocre, though the stiffness of my nipples makes them more enticing, I think. My stomach is flat, all the way down to where it disappears under the waistband of my skirt.

“Sit up,” Hawthorne orders.

I push against the table, my knees bent, the soles of my high heels flat on the table and the backs of the shoes pressing against my ass.
 

“Perhaps I was unclear before,” Romeo says. “If I see you wearing another fake bra in my office, I’m going to make you take it off.”
 

He holds out his hand and I slide the bra the rest of the way off and give it to him. He tosses it across the table.

“Now put your shirt back on,” he says.

My eyes widen. Is the punishment for my vanity being sent home without sex?

“Now,” Romeo growls.

My hands jerk for the blouse. It’s still warm from my body heat.
 

After I fasten the buttons, I look to the men.
 

“Come here,” Hawthorne says.
 

I scoot toward him. With every movement, my breasts jiggle under the silken fabric. The delicate friction makes my nipples even harder, and as a quick glance down confirms, more prominent.

Hawthorne catches the back of my head in his hand, and he kisses me. It’s a Hawthorne kiss, through and through. Dominating. A bit rude, his tongue ignoring the give-and-take that a kiss is supposed to be. Yet it’s sexy as sin.

He lowers me as he kisses, and then I find myself on my back again, Hawthorne leaning over me. Against my thigh, I feel his rigid erection through all the layers of fabric between us.

“Turn her,” Romeo says, and Hawthorne spins me. Thanks to the polished surface of the table and my slippery clothing, I glide easily until my head hangs over the edge, giving me an excellent upside-down view of my bosses.
 

Romeo palms my breasts in his huge hands. “Mm,” he groans. “This is so much better.” As he speaks, his fingers tighten until my nipples are trapped, squeezed.
 

“Open your mouth,” Hawthorne says.

Romeo pulls me toward the edge of the table, his hands wrapped around my ass. When he has me in place, he unzips his pants and takes out his enormous cock.

My tongue flickers over my lips in anticipation. The idea of sucking him again is terrifying, but I’m so eager to redeem myself that I’ll do anything these men want.

He fists the thick shaft and directs the swollen head toward my waiting mouth. I can feel the heat of his body radiating out.

As the taut head slicks over my lips, I moan. Romeo’s cock throbs in response.
 

The other two men are crowding in close, their erections jutting hungrily from the flies of their pants, their balls hanging heavily. Looking at them upside down is surreal, like I’ve been plunged into an X-rated dreamscape.

Romeo traps my head so that I can’t look around. Now all I see are his massive thighs moving closer, his heavy sack.
 

Then he presses in, and I don’t even see that.
 

What percentage of him is in my mouth, I don’t know. Several inches, but not the majority of his shaft. His girth is too thick, and trying to accommodate him makes my jaw ache.

Lucky me, he’s in the mood to be gentle. He lets me suck hard on the tip, and he doesn’t try to feed me too much.

Then I feel another cock pressing into the side of my cheek, which is plumped full with Romeo’s gently thrusting tool.