Page 51 of One More Night
EIGHTEEN
Jordan
“How long have you done this for other people?”
Corinne sits in my office chair, spinning it around with her toes to the floor, only my shirt covering her insatiable curves.
We finished fucking on the sofa less than an hour ago, yet already I feel my cock stiffen at the sight of her so at home in my space.
I could get used to this: her, those legs spread on my desk, no panties, while I finger her during a conference call.
Yes. Perfection. I’ll make it happen.
“I got offered my first deal while I was in college.”
She stops turning to give me her undivided attention. Damn it. She just keeps getting better.
“How do people even approach you about that sort of thing? Isn’t it a little strange, approaching somebody you don’t know to ask them to do something illegal?”
“I knew him,” I correct. “We took classes together. He’d overhead his father talking about a business that they did contract work for. Asked me how hard it would be to override a security system so they could lift stock outside of hours.”
“And you did it?”
“For a new pair of hiking boots, yeah, I did.”
“Is that all?” She laughs. “I thought you might have hustled something better.”
“I’m active, not sporty.”
She smirks at my raised eyebrow. “Why are you standing all the way over there, anyway?”
“Same reason I wouldn’t look at you in the bar, Corinne.”
Her eyes narrow as her smirk grows. “Is that so?”
“What else do you want to know?”
Her gaze drifts around my office, to the few touches of personality I have in the otherwise simple and understated room. A picture I took at a national park. A memento from a weekend in Vegas.
“What are you working on now?”
“Something big.”
Her eyes light up. My mouth waters watching the slow, deliberate way she stretches her legs out one by one to rest her feet on the edge of my desk. Her bare pussy peeks from beneath my shirt.
“How big?”
I should shut her down, keep this confidential to some degree. But, baby wants to be a queen. And a queen supports her king, which means knowing everything.
“If we pull it off, we each walk away with twenty-four million.”
“Each?” She cocks her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as he does. “How many of you are there?”
“Three.”
“The two men I saw you with in the bar.”
“Yes.”