Fake Empire(70)

The muscles in my jaw protest from how tightly I’m clenching it. I know exactly what he meant by networking, and the mention of fashion wasn’t a compliment.

“Even a CEO can make mistakes, Arthur.”

People don’t interrupt my father and they don’t call him by his first name either. Scarlett managed to break both rules in a span of two minutes.

My father tilts his head. He underestimated her. I knew it before; he knows it now.

The rest of the meeting passes without incident. I get pulled into a conversation with the head of our finance department as soon as it ends. I watch as Scarlett talks to Asher for a minute, then turns and leaves the conference room without sparing me a glance. A stupid part of me wants to chase after her. But I let her go.

When I walk out of the conference room, Oliver is waiting for me.

“What the fuck was she doing here, Crew?” He whispers the question angrily. “Dad is pissed. What if she’s leaking information to Nathaniel Stewart?”

I grind my teeth at the insinuation and the name. “She’s my wife. She’s entitled to a spot on the board; she owns the necessary shares.”

“She’s making a fool of you.”

“Butt out of my marriage, Oliver. I’m handling it.”

He tsks, and it’s grating as fuck. “Interesting you call it a marriage now, not a business arrangement.”

“Business arrangements are what I handle at the office. I don’t go home and sleep next to it.”

“You sleep in the same bed?”

“None of your fucking business.” I spin and walk away, headed toward my office. I need a minute to fume in silence. Except, when I enter my office, it’s not empty. Scarlett is leaning against the front of my desk.

“What are you doing in here?” I slam the door shut.

“Lock it.”

I don’t move at first. My emotions are all over the place. I care way too much.

Scarlett is the strongest woman—person—I know, and she weakens my resolve whenever she’s involved. Against my better judgment, I flick the lock shut. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“My last name is on the side of the building.”

“My last name.” I can’t resist the jab.

She clucks her tongue. “Are we an arrangement or a marriage, Crew?” She throws my words back at me, making me tense. Even more so as she walks over to me. “Which is more convenient right now?”

I hold her gaze, and we wage war with our eyes. I know I’ll break first when she sinks to her knees and unzips my pants. All the blood in my body rushes south.

She’s not actually going to… She is. She does.

We’re in my office. Scarlet is kneeling in front of me. I should feel in complete control. Instead, I’ve never felt more powerless, more awed. She walked into this building like she owns it, and now she’s sucking my cock like she owns it too.

She does.

I haven’t so much as kissed another woman since we got married. Not out of loyalty or obligation or love, but because I know they would fall short. That I would picture fisting brunette hair and the red lips currently wrapped around my dick.

I’ve never fooled around in my office before. I keep work and pleasure separate—for good reason. I want people to think I earned the CEO position, not that I had it handed to me. But I’m in no position to think clearly right now. To consider consequences.

Scarlett pulls back to lick and swirl the sensitive tip of my shaft, her hand rubbing my length before she guides me back into the wet heat of her mouth until I hit the back of her throat. I give up on acting indifferent to the warm suction—acting like I’m not already embarrassingly close to exploding.

I’m glad her hair is up. It allows me an unobstructed view as I focus on the mesmerizing motion of her mouth. One of her hands stays wrapped around the base of my dick, while the other moves lower to cup and caress my balls. I groan as I feel the familiar tingle form at the base of my spine. I’m going to come soon. Embarrassingly soon.

My hips start to rock, instinctually driving my cock deeper and deeper into her mouth as I get closer and closer.

Her name falls out of my mouth with a raspy growl. “I’m going to come.” She keeps sucking and pumping, swirling her tongue around the slit in the tip. My breathing grows ragged and my heart pounds as heat spreads up my spine. “Scarlett.”

I gave her two warnings, which is two more than I’d give anyone else. I come with a groan, filling her mouth. Her throat bobs as she swallows everything I give her. I lean back against the door, letting it support most of my weight as the pleasure slowly dissipates.

My muscles feel loose.

My mind: blown.

Scarlett sits back on her heels and wipes her lips with the back of one hand. Then she rises, strolling over to the purse she left on my desk. She pulls out a tube of lipstick, and—fuck me—slicks a fresh coat of red on her plump, full pair.

I clear my throat. “Scarlett—”

“I have to go.” She glances at her watch. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. This took longer than I expected.”

“The meeting or the blowjob?”

She smirks. Then she brushes past, leaving me to zip up my pants and wonder—once again—what the hell just happened?