DrillingDownDeep Page 2

  “You said you’re celebrating your separation, Shelly. So do it. Get up and show me how sexy you are. Dance for me. And lose the rest of your clothes while you’re at it.”

  Her head cocked to one side. “You want me to strip for you?”

  “No. I don’t want you to. I’m ordering you to.”

  She smiled. He didn’t.

  “Come on. Show me what you’re offering.”

  Instead of looking cowed or submissive, her smile got wider. She looked…confident. And sexy as hell.

  She got up and her hips began to sway, slowly at first and then more deliberately. Lifting her arms above her head, she moved in sync with the music, her eyes drifting closed.

  He’d been treated to any number of erotic dance performances in his time, but he realized he’d never specifically requested one before. Women just seemed to gravitate to him, primping for him, trying to seduce him.

  This dance wasn’t like that. Rhythmic and graceful as it was, she danced as if she thought she was alone. Not trying to lure him, but almost shutting him out. Tuned in to the music and her own body.

  It was an incredible turn-on.

  Counting Crows was on to the next song. He didn’t know the name of this one either.

  If anything it should have been a better thing…

  He watched for a minute or two then prompted, “Every guy in that bar tonight wanted you, Shelly. Show me why.”

  Her husband was a fool. He had the thought, out of nowhere.

  “Take your bra off.”

  But it’s all inside of you…

  She continued to dance, as if she hadn’t heard him and he repeated firmly, “Take it off. Show me your breasts.”

  Her eyes opened, narrowed with desire, and then her hands went behind her back and, still dancing, she unsnapped the bra. Sliding the straps slowly down her shoulders, she shrugged it off, dropping it to the floor with a flourish.

  He sucked in an involuntary breath.

  I wish that I was anesthetized …

  If he had to choose, he’d say he was a tits man. And hers were big and round and firm with pink nipples. Even from here, he could tell they were real, exactly as he preferred them.

  He got up and went to the bar.

  “Aren’t you going to dance with me?” Her voice was husky.

  He shook his head, pouring a whiskey. “No.” Downing it in one gulp, he set the glass down and turned back to her. “I’m going to fuck you. Now unzip your skirt.”

  Again, she obeyed, the skirt fluttering to the floor, revealing black panties to match the now discarded bra, no stockings. Topless, in the panties and her pointy black high heels, she continued to sway, long dark hair swinging around her face as she concentrated on the rhythm. They were on to the next song on the playlist, but at this point he barely heard the music as he watched her.

  Now that was beautiful. His cock was so enthused it almost hurt to walk back to the couch.

  But he did, sitting down carefully. He had something specific in mind. “Have you ever given a man a lap dance, Shelly?”

  She stopped her dancing and hesitated, staring at him, and he almost thought she wasn’t going to do it.

  “No. But I’ve seen it.” Before he could wonder at that odd statement, she added, “Why? Do you want to teach me?”

  Slowly, she came over and straddled him, setting her fine, perfect tits right in front of his face.

  “Whatever you need for that, you were born with.” He leaned forward and kissed one rigid nipple and then the other, while his hands traveled down. Even a tit man could appreciate a great set of legs. And she had a pair of long shapely ones. He ran his hands along the outside of them, noting again how smooth and soft her skin was, as he settled into one breast and nipped and sucked. She gave a little moan but whether it was from his attentions to her breast or the fingers he’d slipped into the crotch of her panties he couldn’t tell.

  “You’re wet already,” he murmured approvingly as he found her clit and massaged lightly. Switching to the other breast, he thrust two fingers slowly inside her.

  She chided, “This isn’t a lap dance.”

  “Open my pants, Shelly.” He leaned up to whisper in her ear as he finger-fucked her, coaxing more and more wetness from her sweet pussy. “This is a special lap dance. We’re going to fuck while you do it.”

  She seemed to be concentrating on the movements of his fingers inside her as her palms went to his shoulders. She sat up a little higher on her knees and began to rotate her hips slightly into his touch, looking down to where they were joined, at least that little bit.

  “God, that feels good,” she crooned.

  And it did. To him too. The wetter she got, the more turned on he got. And the more he wanted to get down to it. His cock throbbed, straining against the wool of his pants. The song in the background now was a Rolling Stones one, appropriately enough with a driving beat.

  “Open my pants, Shelly. Go on.”

  Her eyes were closed now and her head fell back a little, and hell if she didn’t pretty much ignore him, focused on getting herself off it seemed. With the hand that he wasn’t using to aid in that endeavor, he took a fistful of her hair and tugged to get her attention. Brown eyes snapped open.

  “Open my pants,” he repeated in the usual calm voice he employed while fucking, no matter how excited he got

  She looked at him levelly. “Always so in control, Michael. What would it take to make you lose it, I wonder?”

  “I never lose it.” The brag was automatic, but true.

  “Never?” She laughed softly. “That sounds like a challenge. You come, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but not until one of us opens my pants.”

  Mercifully, she began to, slowly undoing the top snap and carefully tugging down the zipper. When she pulled aside the elastic band of his briefs and took him in her long fingers, tugging expertly, he almost made a liar out of himself.

  His ass lifted off the couch for a second in automatic reaction to the pleasure, thrusting his cock into her hand. He took a deep breath. “You’re very good at that.”

  She kissed his throat, moving her incredibly wet pussy against his fingers as she fondled him with long, thorough strokes. “So calm and controlled,” she murmured.

  He flicked his thumb against her clit one last time before withdrawing his fingers from her wet snatch and using them to hold aside the crotch panel of her panties. “Put my cock in you,” he instructed, but then remembered. “No, wait a minute. Let me get a condom.”

  He was reaching over to the end table when she beat him to it. “I’ll do it.”

  She grabbed the condom and ripped it open, rolling it onto him quickly as her mouth made it up to his ear. “Fuck you,” she whispered right as she positioned him and then sat down hard, engulfing him in tight wet heat.

  “Christ.”

  His moan was completely involuntary as was the almost overwhelming impulse to ejaculate. He fought it down as she wound her arms around his neck and thrust her tongue in his mouth, and then began to move aggressively up and down on his cock. Feeling her excitement, that wet, wet warmth, through his cock rather than his fingers was incredible. He arched into it as she came up on her knees on the upstroke, tilting her hips so he was almost out of her. Then she slid back down quickly to take the length of him inside her…again and again. It was a wild, sexy rhythm that took him off guard as she kissed him and initially rendered him helpless in the face of the pleasure of that tight pussy.

  And she was surprisingly tight. As excited as he was, the heft of his cock was stretching her in a way his fingers had not. Throbbing inside her, pushing against the silky walls as she slid up and down. Another woman might not have gone at it with such enthusiasm given their relative sizes, not at first. But she took the pressure, the size of him, as if it was her due. No hesitation. No pause to accommodate herself. She fucked him—not the other way around.

  And God it felt good. Too much maybe.

  His
hands went to her slender hips in an effort to control the pace at the very least. Extracting himself from her intoxicating kiss, he ordered, “Slow down.” And then he enforced the order by keeping her still, the head of his cock poised just at the entrance to heaven again. He took a deep breath, smiling slightly as his hands clenched her hips to tip her forward a little. She had a little tuft of curls, glistening now from the evidence of her excitement, just above the pouty lips of her cunt. Very nice. He would be sure to make a closer acquaintance of that whole unchartered territory of her body with his mouth.

  Later.

  Still not breaking the contact between them, he moved her slowly down the rigid length of his cock, smooth and controlled. How fine it was to feel the warm, tight clasp of a woman around him.

  He sighed and slid her up his pole slowly and then down again, settling into the motion. Completely in control.

  “That’s better,” he breathed as he watched where they were joined. His hard, angry cock, wet from her juices, slid deep inside her as her white thighs clenched on either side of him. That was a sight he was sure he would never tire of.

  “Is it better?” she whispered.

  The low, sexy tone of her voice, the hot, tight feel of her gripping him and those fine, firm tits so close to his chest almost made him lose it again. She was dynamite, this Shelly. And one handled dynamite very, very carefully. So at her question he kept her anchored to his lap, his cock pulsing inside her, all the way inside her, mustering his usual self-control.

  “Yes. You’ll see. We’re going to take this nice and slow,” he murmured, as much to assure himself as it was to assure her.

  Leaning forward to kiss the curve of her soft breast, he smelled the faint fragrance of peaches and felt her breath waft against his temple.

  “I don’t think so.” She nipped the lobe of his ear, the sharp bite startling him for a second as she broke his hold at her hips and came up on her knees again. Yanking his head back to her, she kissed him, a wet, open-mouthed invasion, and slammed her hot pussy right back down on his cock, all the way to the base. And then she was off, shattering his measured approach with that same unrestrained, incredibly sexy dance of hers.

  Fucking him.

  His hands spread convulsively over the soft, silky cheeks of her ass, kneading as he tried to keep himself in check. It felt so good he stopped trying to fight the furious intensity of it, just cupping her ass as she rode him, tightening his thighs and widening his legs to get his bearings.

  “Still in control?” she taunted softly in between sucking his tongue and thrusting hers in his mouth.

  And frankly, he almost wasn’t. Almost. The urge to come was pounding down on him as she kissed him. Just one minute more, he promised himself when unbelievably she did some incredible internal thing with the hot walls of her tight pussy that caused him to gasp. Then she slipped off him, digging her nails into his back and sucking hard on his tongue as she flattened herself against him, her warm lush tits pressed hard against his chest and her abdomen against his cock.

  All at the same time.

  It was all he could offer himself as an excuse as he came, hard, against his stomach and hers. Not even in her. After a minute, she pulled back, a wide smile on her face.

  He was still panting as she tugged the condom off, petting him softly through the aftershocks. “And next time, you can make me lose control.”

  He smiled and flipped her over so she was spread out underneath him on the couch. He reached for another condom. “Game on.”

  * * * * *

  Vanny glanced at the orange sunrise through the panoramic windows as she moved quietly to collect her clothes and put them back on. She had no clue as to why she had taken it so far last night.

  Two minutes into the penthouse, she already had what she’d come for—his files on the Transcoastal deal downloaded to the portable computer snug in her purse. It wouldn’t have been much trouble staying another few minutes at most and then slipping the iPad back on to the bench next to his jacket on her way out. She even had a pat explanation ready for cutting out…that she’d changed her mind. She wanted to work it out with her husband, blah, blah, blah.

  But instead, shit, it turned out he had great taste in music and she’d let the sexy beat and the even sexier man coax her into dancing for him, not to mention stripping for him. And then she’d gotten so carried away with how hot he was, they were together, that she actually fucked him. She’d never intended it—she swore she hadn’t—sleeping with the enemy and all. But nobody would ever know. It would be her own private fantasy.

  Making Michael Reynolds lose control.

  And having about five or six orgasms in the bargain.

  She slipped the iPad out of her purse onto the bench and ventured out into the morning, leaving Michael Reynolds sleeping, none the wiser.

  She had some files to deliver.

  Michael waited a few minutes after he heard the outer door close and then reached for his cell, dialing his second in command on the Transcoastal deal, his best friend from college Jeff Fischer.

  “Hey,” he said when a sleepy voice answered. “Can you hand the phone to Jeff?”

  His pal had the ridiculous habit of having whatever girl he was seeing at the time answer his phone if he was in bed with her. Poor bastard was still in love with his ex-wife and undoubtedly hoping it was her on the other end and that she’d be jealous. A wasted effort in Michael’s opinion. Tiffany Fischer was a heartless bitch.

  Jeff came on the line with an impatient, “What?”

  “I thought you might be interested in knowing that I think Transcoastal just made their move.”

  “Oh?” He sounded a little more awake. “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say those fake files we planted on my iPad are probably winging their way right now into the hands of the lazy management of our current target.”

  “No kidding? The ones on your iPad? I thought they’d sneak somebody in to your office computer and get them that way.”

  “No. The iPad was the smarter move these days since I carry it around with me.”

  “They have somebody steal it or what?”

  “Not exactly.”

  It was halfway through the night when he went out to collect his cell from his suit jacket pocket—intending to text his assistant that he would miss the scheduled morning meetings, Shelly having worn him out—when he noticed the iPad was not on the bench where he’d left it. Feeling a little smarmy, he checked his hook-up’s purse and sure enough there it was, in a side compartment with a nice little portable computer right next to it, perfect for downloading files. She must have not had a chance to slip it back out again.

  Shelly’s long trip to the bathroom at the beginning of the night took on a different cast. He thought she’d been getting up her nerve, when all the time she had just probably been figuring out how to work the download. God knew he and Jeff hadn’t made it very hard to find the fake files.

  It was a precaution they took on a lot of their deals. Sort of a decoy. Sometimes the other side was sleazy enough to end up with the misinformation and sometimes they weren’t. It was fine with him either way. If they were dirty enough to try to steal the files, then Reynolds Industries was not above benefitting from the misdirection. But if the other side wanted to play fair, he did too. No big deal either way.

  Usually.

  Of course he’d never had another side send somebody to fuck him for the files. It was a novel approach and, other than the incredibly hot sex, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  “They sent somebody. A woman. She sort of…” He considered it.

  “What? Give? Come on. Who was she?”

  Being one to always offer too much information on that score, Jeff was perpetually hoping that Michael would reciprocate.

  Not happening.

  He laughed. “It doesn’t matter who she was. Just wanted to let you know where we stood on the deal. I’ll see you tomorrow when you fly in.”

  J
eff grunted, probably turning to fuck whatever Tiffany-replacement he had with him before Michael could even hang up.

  And it didn’t matter who Shelly had been, he told himself firmly. Some private eye maybe with a very specialized M.O.

  A small dark circle on the white pillowcase caught his eye and he touched his fingertip to it. A colored contact lens.

  He picked it up and stared at the dark-brown disk on the tip of his finger for a minute and then, annoyed, shook it off.

  It was just a contact lens, for God’s sake, not some glass slipper.

  Shelly-whoever was no Cinderella.

  And God knew he was nobody’s Prince Charming.

  Chapter One

  “Has he even gone through the fucking safety training?”

  Mick O’Malley sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow before putting his hard hat back on. “He doesn’t have to. He’s the CEO, Vanny.”

  “Has he ever been on a rig before?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t want some asshole puking all over me as soon as he sets down.”

  “If you think anybody at Transcoastal has the balls to make their new boss get in that salt-and-pepper shaker of a tester, you’re nuts. Like they’d really want him to puke in front of them while it flips up and down, just so he doesn’t do it on deck. I don’t think so. Not to mention, from what I understand, nobody makes Michael Reynolds do anything. He gives the orders.”

  “Great. Just the kind of moron I want traipsing around on a three-hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar rig.”

  “Since he bought this rig, and every other rig Transcoastal owns, I guess he figures he can do whatever the hell he wants with it.”

  “Not while I’m on it, he can’t.”

  “Look, just relax. He’ll probably take a ten-minute tour and make the helicopter wait for him and that’ll be that.”

  “But he claims he wants to spend the night, right?”

  “So they say. I think when he gets a load of the accommodations he’ll flit on back to his penthouse at the Houston Four Seasons.”