Tell Me Now_Show and Tell Duet_Book 1 Read online

“Enough. No more games. I’m taking you now.” I watch Cal pull out a condom and slide it over his enlarged dick. “If it hurts, you need to tell me.”

  “I will.”

  Without any more talking, we’re both on the bed, and he’s hovering over me, holding himself up with his forearms. Our lips meet again, and he sucks on my tongue, creating the ache for him to grow deeper. I feel him spreading my legs and his tip at my opening. The sensation of him over me, about to enter me, is perfect. I moan into his chest when he slides in. He groans loudly, and then he pauses.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he barely gets out. “It feels too damn good. I need to go slow or else this will end faster than I want.” His forehead drops to mine, and I keep my eyes on him. Every muscle in my body connects with his, and he slowly starts pushing into me again.

  Deeper.

  My nails dig into his skin, and when he’s all the way in, I let out a scream from the immense pleasure he's giving me, and beg for more.

  “Please don't go slow. You won't hurt me.”

  He slowly pulls out and pushes back in. My body adjusts to his size, and soon, our fervent moans fill the hotel room. Cal finds a beautiful pace and I wrap my legs around his waist and he goes deeper. My body hits euphoria, and I can’t get enough of him. The way he moves is driving me crazy. Our bodies mold together, and I’m about to come.

  “Shit. Baby, you’re close.”

  “God, yes!” I tell him, and he picks up the pace. The faster he goes, the louder I moan, and the deep groan from him picks up. “Cal!”

  My entire body trembles, and he stills over me. The best orgasm of my life.

  Of. My. Life.

  I watch him slowly pull out of me and head to the bathroom. I’m not sure if I’m staying or not until he comes out and climbs back on the bed. He brings me into his arms and pulls us under the covers. My back’s against his chest and his nose is buried in my neck.

  “When I wake up, you’ll be here, and I’m going to taste your pussy and we’ll fuck again.”

  Shit. When we wake up?

  “Okay.”

  Within a few minutes, his breathing evens out, yet I’m wide-awake. I’m going to be greedy and stay here a little longer, but I won’t be here when he wakes up in the morning. I’ll take this beautiful memory and remember it forever.

  Chapter 2

  Bryce

  The memories of her moaning and coming two times last night slowly wakes me up. This woman brought me to my knees.

  A few hours earlier, my head was between her thighs, licking and sucking her sweet cunt. I became addicted. I took her again and she took control, getting on top of me and riding my cock hard and fast. The vivid image of her tits bouncing and throwing back her head got me hard again.

  Fuck. I need her.

  Rolling over to reach out for her, in hopes for a morning session, I’m met with cold sheets and an empty side of the bed. My eyes snap open, and I sit up on the bed and turn to the side, confirming what I’m feeling.

  The room’s silent. I survey it, listening closely to see if she’s in the bathroom or elsewhere in the hotel room.

  I hear nothing.

  Silence.

  Lying back down on the bed, I rub my face with my hands, trying to come up with a plan. Any sort of plan.

  I’m used to one-night stands. I’m the man who’ll fuck a woman and then leave. Not last night. It was the best sex I’ve had. She was submissive and sweet. Her cunt was tight around my cock. I craved her.

  Getting out of bed, I pull on my pants and grab my shirt from the floor. As I’m buttoning my shirt, I see a note on the table. Walking over, I reach down to grab it, and as soon as I open the letter, her words spill out.

  Cal,

  If it’s supposed to happen, then we’ll meet in the middle.

  Sophia

  A smile curves on my face. I’ll see her again. Being a successful businessman, I know how to handle difficult situations and close a deal. I didn’t make my millions without a plan. With everything I do, I have a plan and a predicted outcome for any possible scenario. To get to my level of success, dedication, intelligence, and quick thinking are important. Now, I know I can get anything I want.

  And what I want is her.

  Once upon a time, I was a caring and happy man. I embraced life, enjoyed work, and lived. Then again, that was before life decided to put a permanent blade through anything good inside me.

  I’m dead inside.

  Uncaring.

  Cold.

  The few people I have in my close knit circle are the only ones who know me.

  The real me.

  My business partners and employees simply see the professional Bryce Hunter. Running a multibillion-dollar business requires attention. Complete attention. My day never ends. I work on the weekends and well past five in the evening during the week.

  Running my empire, I need to handle every deal with precision. These deals are all a game to me and it’s about winning ... the bottom line. I’ve never lost a deal or been outbid. My company’s accomplishments are due to the fierceness of my employees and their willingness to strive for the best. As they should with the salary I’m paying them.

  “Have you made any progress?”

  I nod, looking around the busy restaurant for our waitress so she can get me another glass of bourbon. “Not yet. There’s no need to worry. Is there anything else you need from me?”

  “No.”

  “Very well. Enjoy the rest of your evening. This will be handled.”

  He reaches for my hand but immediately pulls his away when my darkened eyes narrow on him. “If things progress the way they have been, I’ll need you to deliver some letters. Just you, Hunter.”

  “Okay,” I state coolly.

  He nods, and I leave the restaurant. Once I’m outside, I feel a small hand press on my back. Immediately, I tense.

  “What are you up to, Bryce Hunter?” she asks, her voice sultry and lustful. Her efforts mean nothing to me.

  I start toward the street and nod to Peter, signaling for him to give me a few minutes. “Nothing that concerns you.”

  She purses her lips. “Anything you do concerns me. When will you recognize that? The sooner you realize I’m here for you to make certain you don’t end up in a situation you can’t find yourself out of, the sooner you’ll open up to me. I’m only looking out for you.”

  I hold back my annoyance. “Eventually, you’ll need to move on. What I do is my business and mine only. It doesn’t concern you nor will it ever. You need to sever whatever hold you have on me. Aren’t you seeing that adorable lawyer? Get bored already?” I can’t hide the smirk that appears on my face as she flinches at the remark.

  “The only man I want is the one I can’t have. What’s it going to take for you to see we belong together?”

  I cringe thinking about those last three words—we belong together. Love is a waste of time. Soul mates and true love does not exist. Love only sets you up for disappointment. If love is supposed to be the best feeling in the world, in the universe, then why can it be ripped out of your life without warning?

  People associate love with forever. With infinity. How can a person love when their heart is a darkened, black space … one full of sorrow and pain?

  I believed in love before my world became jaded. Happy memories of attentive parents filled my childhood. Even as a teenager, I knew I was headed to Harvard University after graduation. During the first semester of my senior year, my father collapsed and passed away. Not only was I now the man of the family and expected to care for my mother and younger sister, but I was also expected to run Hunter Continental Holdings. The board granted me time to complete my degree before taking my place as CEO. A few months after I took office, my mother and sister moved to New York City because the memories of my father made it too hard to stay here. At the young age of twenty-three, I was in control, and people depended on me. The high expectations and pressu
re helped me grow along with my employees and company.

  Then a drunken night with a close friend brought us an unexpected surprise nine months later.

  The little bundle of joy completed my life.

  She gave my life meaning and purpose.

  Then she was taken from me.

  And I turned away from love.

  From anything good and pure.

  She snaps her fingers in my face, her voice rising to get my attention. “Bryce? Are you listening to me?”

  I sigh. “What is it, Tiffany?”

  “Can we grab a drink? Things aren’t going very well for me. I keep thinking about it. You might not feel the pain I do …”

  Turning to face her, I stop her by gripping her hand. “Don’t you dare say it. I think about it all the time. Every fucking day. Every fucking second. You need to understand I’m a haunted man.”

  A man who should feel something but doesn’t.

  A man who’s experienced more tragedy than he should.

  “I care about you, Bryce. You have more money than you know what to do with because you work your ass off. I worry about you and don’t want to see you fall. You’re going to work yourself to your grave. Is that what you want?”

  I rub my finger against my temple to force away the impending migraine. “That’s none of your business. How many times do I need to remind you that my business is mine alone? This conversation is over. I will see you tomorrow morning.”

  Her lids flutter, and she steps back. “I wish you could see how badly I need you.”

  “Tomorrow. Morning,” I reiterate.

  I clench my jaw and turn away. Peter opens the door for me, and I climb into the back seat of my SUV.

  “Home?” Peter asks.

  I nod and answer with a curt, “Yes.” Pulling out my cell phone, I make a phone call. He answers on the second ring. “I’m going to need you on this. Get all the information you can. Everything. I’ll email you the necessary information. Turnaround time is twelve hours.”

  “You got it, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Inside my penthouse is quiet. The dim lights cast shadows on the beige walls, and the crackling of the fireplace resounds throughout the living area. After one more sip of my bourbon, I set the glass tumbler on the coffee table in front of me with a sigh. Glancing at the folder in front of me, I feel it taunting me. Wickedly begging me to open it again and read every page. I pick it up, staring at the beige file as questions float around my head.

  Last month I was given this for a trade. After understanding what needed to be done, I became obsessed, and wanted more. It took weeks of planning until it all came together.

  Lifting the folder open, I lean back on my leather couch, place my ankle over my knee, and look at the contents in full. I’ve read the pages in this document several times. And each time, I read it as if I haven’t before. I examine each part.

  Each sentence.

  Each detail.

  An overwhelming need washes over me, and when I close my eyes, I see her. Those plump lips, high cheekbones, and seductive brown eyes nearly knock me on my ass.

  I can’t explain the connection I feel to her or the unfamiliar thoughts in my head. Women normally don’t affect me this way.

  I fuck.

  I demand.

  I control.

  I leave.

  I’m an asshole, and I don’t hide it. It works for me.

  Chapter 3

  Madison

  It’s been three days since my night with Cal. My body craves him, and I’ve been using that memory to get off. The way his lips pressed on my skin. His dirty words and how they made my pussy clench and wet with need. It’s the best sex I’ve had—not that I have much to compare it to.

  I feel like an asshole for leaving in the middle of the night. I left him a note, letting him know if it’s supposed to happen, then we’ll meet in the middle. I wonder if I had left him my number if he would’ve used it. Then again, something tells me Cal has no trouble getting numbers, so mine would simply be added to the pile.

  “Are you ready?” Kaylee asks, coming into the kitchen and taking her coffee canister with her. “I cannot believe you’re working with me. I know this isn’t what you want, but it’ll be fun. Think about it as a foot in the door. You’ve got to start from the bottom and work your way up, but then once you’re there, you’re going to celebrate and shine because that’s the type of woman you are, babe.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  In the car, Kaylee talks about another failed date, and I can’t stop thinking about Cal. How does one night turn into this?

  “Hello! Earth to Madison!”

  “Huh?”

  Kaylee’s silent for a few beats before saying, “You’ve been off since that night. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s what you said when you came home. I didn’t want to ask you about what happened because I figured you’d tell me, but since you didn’t, now I’m going to ask. What happened?”

  My body heats as I remember the way Cal cherished me and brought my body to a level of euphoria I’ve never been to. With a deep breath, I tell Kaylee about our conversation at the bar, then what happened in the hotel room, and leaving in the middle of the night.

  “So you didn’t leave your number?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to go back to the moment I picked up the pen and wrote him the note. “Nope.”

  “Wow.” She drags out the word and then grows quiet again. I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say. “Madison, I’m so glad your vag got some action and you finally know what an orgasm feels like. The way you talk about him ... are you still thinking about him?” I don’t answer, afraid if I say it aloud, my heart will hammer through my chest. “You just got out of a relationship with an asshole, and you’re healing. You don’t need another man to hurt you. Take that night for what it was and move on.” She pats my thigh, and I let her words sink in.

  We get to work and head to the employee lounge. The room’s fairly big and comfortable. The idea of being someone’s personal stylist is unnerving. I didn’t think I’d be here. Throughout my college years, I imagined myself in a large office, overlooking downtown Chicago, making my mark as a successful businesswoman. Since that’s not happening, I’ll have to settle for this job. I need to start somewhere. Nowadays having a degree sometimes means nothing. Companies want experience and a degree. Well, how in the world can a college grad have experience if there isn’t any provided? Employers should trust that a degree represents something. It’s an accomplishment, not just a piece of paper with signatures and words. It’s a certificate of completion. A credential to show endless nights of studying, coffee and more coffee, and getting an unpaid internship.

  A degree represents hard work and dedication. That in and of itself should speak volumes.

  Pushing away the frustration, I take another peek in the mirror, and an internal groan nearly escapes. My reflection’s staring back at me, wondering how I’m going to conquer the business world and leave my mark. All while I’m someone else’s bitch. It’s a wonderful feeling.

  “Baby steps.” I repeat this mantra a few times, inhaling calming breaths and letting it slowly leave my lips.

  “Are you feeling good?” Kaylee asks with a slight concern in her tone.

  Kaylee and I have been friends since we were babies. Our mothers were best friends, so we grew up together. She’s the jelly to my peanut butter sandwich and the cheese to my grilled cheese sandwich.

  Kaylee puts her things in the locker and steps over to me to hand me her lip gloss. Her beautiful dark brown hair is in wavy curls, and she’s wearing a flattering knee-length gray dress.

  “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to get me this job?” We’ve been through a lot together—from starring in our first-grade play to going through each stage of our lives together—and now we’re co-workers, living the life. If Kaylee had anything to do
with this, I’d be highly upset. All my life, people have made it a point to always do something for me. Especially my father. He’s the worst.

  Throughout my life, he ensured each teacher I had knew to pass me with an A. At times, I knew I didn’t deserve that grade, but I didn’t catch on until my senior year. Once I got to college, I made him promise not to interfere. He stayed away, but I knew his minions lurked around every corner. When I graduated, I told him I didn’t want any more of his money. I wanted to earn my own way and learn how to be independent. It was what my mom instilled in me.

  My father means well. I know he loves me and just wants to take care of me. It’s only us now. At times, I’ve given in to appease him, but I never take his generosity for granted.

  Throughout my years in college, he put money into my account, and I used it when I needed books and food—the essentials. Even with my scholarships, I still had to pay, and my father signed a check every semester.

  I worked at a coffee shop and a bar during college. The tips at the bar were always good. My coffee shop job was something fast-paced to do for fun. I only worked three hours in the morning, then bartended Thursday through Saturday nights. My paycheck from the coffee shop was only a little over a hundred a week. Then when I bartended, I usually made anywhere between two hundred to three hundred and fifty dollars a night at the bar since it was in a college town. Thirsty Thursdays were the busiest, and I easily walked out with three hundred dollars on those nights. Fridays were okay, and Saturdays were the second busiest.

  On Sundays, my father and I had dinner, and we talked about my jobs, school, and my future. With my degree and background in business and marketing, I’d be an immense asset to his company. Since he’s overprotective and enjoys knowing every detail of my life, it wouldn’t work out. He’d micromanage me, and I’d feel like I was under the microscope.

  I love business and I have goals I want to achieve on my own. If I get handed a job, then how will I push myself without working hard to earn it? Upon graduating, I had several interviews scheduled. I prepared and studied each company. I was sure I’d done well in my interviews, but the business world is competitive. Maybe I didn’t hear back from the other companies since I didn’t graduate from Harvard or one of those other prestigious schools. I shake my head. Columbia is a prestigious school. Whatever the issue, I need to be thankful I have a well-paying job.