Executive Perks by Angela Claire Page B

he undoubtedly wedged her butt plug in as far as it would go and blessedly felt himself shoot his load, noting absently that she groaned loud enough for him to safely assume she came as well.
    Panting, he pulled out of her, peeling the condom off his softening dick and then reclaiming his tie. He kissed the tip of her nose as he untied the knot and brought one wrist to his lips, kissing the pounding pulse there lightly.
    He gestured toward her backside as she slithered back into her dress, wondering if he should offer to slip the plug out. It couldn’t be that comfortable. But hell, she’d slipped it in. He’d leave it to her. Anyway, he wasn’t planning to have them hang around at this ball a second later than they had to.
    Fuck, he was going to get her back to his apartment as soon as he could so he could give her his full attention. None of this quickie crap. Damned if she’d be thinking about Aaron Winston while she was fucking Brendan Beckett, for Christ’s sake.
    But just in case, he’d bring the tie.
    * * * * *
     
     
    He watched the arrogant young whelp and his whore leave the lavish rest room of the museum, the less-populated facility on the bottom floor. No mystery what those two had been doing.
    Waiting a minute or two more to ensure his meeting place would be empty, he slipped in. The dark reflection beside him in the mirror a second later startled him.
    “Were you in here all the time?” he asked the waiter, who was suddenly washing hands next to him at the sink.
    The man nodded. “I was crouching on the toilet, waiting for you, when that couple came in. Not much I could do but wait them out. They were quick about it, though.”
    “Fine. Whatever. No play by play required, thank you. They didn’t see you?”
    “No.”
    “Fine, fine. So did you put it into her drink?”
    “Yes. I did.”
    “Excellent.” He slipped the waiter ten one hundred-dollar bills. After he had dried his hands, of course.
    “Nice doing business with you.”
    Then the waiter was gone. He looked into the mirror with satisfaction. That’s how it should always go. Not this whining and questioning all the time, wondering why he was doing something or not doing something. It was really annoying.
    Maybe he should hire this waiter for all his work and get rid of that annoying investment banker. He didn’t even mind someone like the waiter seeing his face. The servant class was of a different breed. As long as they were paid, they wouldn’t turn on their masters.
    Not like an investment banker.
    He’d give it some thought. In the meantime, he’d just lie back and see the results of honest to goodness pharmacology at work.
    They called it liquid ecstasy, didn’t they?
    * * * * *
     
     
    Virginia took a deep breath, running her free hand through her long hair, her other hand firmly imprisoned in the purposeful grip of Aaron Winston. He led her to his waiting limousine and gave the driver—Ralph again she assumed—an address through the intercom. It sounded very familiar to her, but in her carefree mood she could not place it. Oh, well, it didn’t matter. Winston could take her wherever he wanted. It was like deja vu sitting with him in the confines of the luxurious limousine again (was this the same one they were in the other night or did he have a whole fleet?), but it felt very different to her now. And it wasn’t just because of the bump she could still feel on her head beneath her hair.
    She stretched back against the smooth leather, vaguely conscious of the twinkling lights of the Manhattan streets whizzing by them, and smiled at Aaron. She felt so free of inhibitions. How could she have possibly pushed this incredibly handsome man away from her the other night? All she wanted now was to be close to him again. She reached up to trail her fingertips along his granite cheekbone, but he caught her hand, stopping her.
    His low voice teased her as he pressed his lips to her fingertips, sending shivers down her spine,