Fired by Her Fling Read online

  ‘You carry your own condoms?’

  She shrugged, suddenly painfully conscious of how it might look. ‘Sure, why not? It’s just as much my responsibility as yours,’ she mumbled.

  Her spirits rose as he gave her an impressed look and nodded slowly. ‘I’m beginning to like you, Louise,’ he said, and she very nearly corrected him again.

  No, Lula, stay in character.

  Climbing back onto the bed, she straddled his legs and slid her way back up his body, dragging her nipples against his shins, over his knees and thighs, then cupping her breasts together with one hand to trap the hard length of his shaft between them. He groaned as she slid him back and forth between the soft cushions, propping herself up on one arm and lazily running her tongue over the peaks and troughs of his abs at the same time.

  She paused what she was doing as he slid his hands into her hair and began to stroke his fingers gently against her scalp in rhythm with the movement.

  It was a beautifully intimate thing for him to do and an unexpected swell of emotion expanded in her chest.

  Most of her sexual encounters had been swift and to the point. No one had ever touched and stroked her the way Tristan did. As if she was something to treasure and worship.

  He must have thought she didn’t like what he was doing because he took his hands away and when she looked up she saw he’d stretched his arms above his head and was pressing his hands against the headboard.

  She wanted to tell him she’d liked how he made her feel, but she didn’t know how to say it without it sounding cheesy or, even worse, needy. And, anyway, it would have been a total mood-breaker to start discussing feelings at that precise moment. She wasn’t there to talk.

  Moving her way up his body, she positioned herself so she was sitting on the tops of his thighs, trapping him beneath her.

  He looked up at her and gave her a slow smile. ‘I like looking at you, sitting there all sexy and self-assured.’

  The comment gave her a little zing of anxiety in her chest. She didn’t want him to be focused on her; she wanted him concentrating on his own pleasure. Reaching forward, she plucked his glasses off his nose and put them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed.

  He groaned in grumpy frustration. ‘I can’t see you now.’

  ‘That’s the idea. You’re going to have to feel me instead,’ she said, tearing open the condom wrapper.

  He groaned again, but this time it was filled with pure hunger.

  She took a moment to slide the latex over him, enjoying his little growls of pleasure as she did so.

  Moving up on her knees, she positioned herself above him, fitting the tip of him inside her. She smiled as she heard his deep intake of breath and he gripped the headboard harder. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself onto him, relishing the exquisite stretch and pressure as he filled her. She was so keyed up, it felt as though a million nerve-endings had come alive and were dancing with joy inside her.

  They fitted together perfectly, the length of him hitting her deep inside, and she couldn’t stop herself from moving straight away, savouring the ebb and flow of sensation as she pressed deep, then pulled up and almost off him again.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa...’ Tristan muttered, as she continued to move and leant back to put a hand on each of his thighs, letting her hair cascade down her back.

  She felt him buck beneath her and increased her speed, rocking her pelvis back and forth, delighting in the delicious friction inside her.

  Tipping her head back to look at him, she saw him lick the fingers of one hand then slide it between her legs, pressing on her sensitive nub and sending a whole new riot of sensation through her.

  Releasing her grip on his legs, she leaned forwards into the pressure of his caress and picked up the pace, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm as it teased her body, shimmering like a halo of pleasure on the horizon.

  The dual sensations intensified as she rode him and lost herself in the pure hedonism of the moment. Delicious pressure built and built until she thought she might go crazy with the need for release and finally the feeling broke and she flew over the edge, plummeting into a deep, dark cavern of euphoria, pinpricks of light exploding behind her eyes.

  It took a good few moments for her blissed-out state to dispel enough for her to rise from where she’d slumped against Tristan’s chest but, when she did, she saw he was giving her the most wickedly delighted smirk.

  ‘It sounded like you enjoyed that,’ he said.

  ‘I might have found it pleasingly uplifting,’ she replied, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.

  ‘I’m relieved I didn’t let my bespectacled brothers down.’

  ‘No, no, I can safely say they’d be more than satisfied with your sterling performance,’ she said, shifting a little, only to discover how hard he still was inside her.

  He let out a muffled curse and clenched his fists above his head. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to leave me like this.’

  ‘You really think I’d be that cruel,’ she said, shifting her hips again to restart the slip-slide motion, conjuring up wonderful aftershocks from her orgasm.

  His breath rasped in his throat as they moved faster together and she allowed him to set the pace this time, matching his thrusts as he found his rhythm.

  Leaning forwards, she pressed her hands onto his shoulders to hold him against the bed—the sheen of sweat on his skin causing her grip to slip a little—and continued to move with him, squeezing him inside her on the upstroke. She could feel his muscles quivering beneath her touch and he bucked his hips, his breathing growing more and more ragged until he finally let out a low groan of pleasure, his brow furrowing hard in concentrated pleasure as he came inside her.

  It was a truly beautiful sight.

  She’d done that to him. She’d made this gorgeous, ridiculously sexy man lose his mind like that.

  They worked together.

  Something she could only describe as a mind orgasm flooded through her head at the thought of it.

  She stayed on top of him until his breathing quietened and he opened his eyes again and smiled at her.

  ‘Well, Louise, I have to admit I’m very grateful you coughed all over me tonight.’ He placed a hand on her hip and stroked his fingertips up and down, tickling the line of her spine.

  Despite her wave of discomfort at him not using her real name, her body still gave a delicious shiver in response to his touch.

  ‘Just think,’ he continued, an eyebrow raised. ‘If you hadn’t we might have both been alone in our separate beds right now instead of enjoying the warm afterglow of down and dirty sex together.’

  Levering herself off him, she collapsed onto the bed, trying not to worry about how wobbly she felt.

  The slow, sad pull of loneliness that had bugged her recently had no business raising its ugly head right now. There was no room for anything other than sexual satisfaction at this precise moment.

  He turned to look at her and the jubilant expression on his face made her heart turn over.

  Down, girl.

  ‘Seriously, that was incredible. It was exactly what I needed,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes, then flopping it down onto the bed next to him, a wide, satisfied grin splashed across his face.

  She took a deep controlling breath, suddenly terrified by a disorientating muddle of thoughts and feelings that hurtled through her head.

  Surely the end of a one-night stand wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so...melancholy. She should be bouncing out of there with a spring in her step, not mooching about like a lost puppy, desperate for more attention.

  From out of nowhere, the nervy fear about the meeting in the morning came back to hit her with full force in the chest.

  What the hell was she doing?

  She sho
uld get out of there. Right now.

  ‘Okay, well, good,’ she said shakily, sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed. ‘I’m gonna get going.’

  She felt the bed dip behind her as he rolled onto his side and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand.

  ‘You’re leaving? Right now?’

  ‘I have things to do tomorrow.’ She couldn’t look at him in case he saw the bewildering swirl of emotion she was battling to hide.

  She couldn’t stay, not if she had any chance of staying sane.

  And, anyway, Tristan would probably freak out if she started acting like this was anything other than a one-night stand.

  Better to cut her losses and go now.

  She jumped up off the bed and went over to where their clothes lay in a muddled heap on the floor. Flinging his things out of the way, she located all of hers and pulled them on quickly, intensely aware of his gaze on her back.

  ‘What? I gave you such an incredible orgasm there’s no point in even trying to top it?’ His tone was jokey, but she detected a faintly indignant twang.

  She laughed despite herself. ‘I’ll certainly never forget it.’ She turned back to look at him and took a step towards where he now sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a couple of feet between them. Maintaining a safe distance from that tantalising body of his. ‘But I get the feeling you wouldn’t be interested in a sleepover.’

  ‘Well, no—’

  ‘And, to be honest, I’m not a good bedfellow anyway. I move around a lot. And I steal the sheets. I’d keep you awake and you’d regret even suggesting it.’

  He was frowning now, clearly baffled by her word vomit.

  ‘It’s okay, Louise, I wasn’t suggesting that.’

  She sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead, feeling downright sleazy now for not telling him her real name. ‘It’s been fun, Tristan. Really good fun, but I think it’s best if I don’t hang around.’

  Argh, how were you meant to do this kind of thing without sounding like a prude or a heinous bitch?

  * * *

  Tristan stood up and caught hold of Lu’s arm as she turned to go. ‘Hey, wait.’ Drawing her towards him, he bent to kiss her again for the last time, attempting to make it a kiss she’d never forget.

  The groan she gave in the back of her throat made him think he’d succeeded.

  He felt discombobulated by her sudden need to depart and wanted to slow her down, keep her for a bit longer, even if it was only for one extra minute.

  Breaking away, she gave him a look of pure regret. ‘I’m not going to be able to leave if you keep doing things like that.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s the idea.’

  Her gaze flitted to the floor and his stomach sank as he realised he’d said the wrong thing. This was a one-night-only thing. That was all he’d thought he wanted—until he’d found how sexually explosive they were together. Now he wanted to suggest he stayed in London for an extra day so they could spend one more night together—one very long night—to give them the chance to explore exactly how much more fun they could conjure up between them.

  Letting her go now seemed like such a travesty.

  Apparently Lu didn’t share his view.

  She stepped forwards to give him one last soft kiss on the lips, then turned and walked swiftly away, closing the door quietly behind her.

  And then she was gone.

  After showering, he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to ignore the way his body seemed desperate for more of Lu’s intensive attention. His eyes looked brighter than normal and his skin was flushed and glowing. That was what a good, hard bout of amazing sex did to you. It made you look and feel alive. Something he’d been missing for a while now.

  He’d been surprised by how much he’d loved the way Lu had taken control. Normally he was the one leading things in the bedroom—it had never occurred to him not to—and he’d been pleasantly surprised by just how much he’d liked it when she took over. And by how willing he was to trust her. Maybe it was because he had to be responsible in every other part of his life; handing control over to someone else for a change had been liberating.

  Going back into the bedroom, he gathered up his clothes from the floor. His gaze caught on something the size and shape of a credit card as it fell out from the folds of his shirt. He scooped it up and looked at it. It was a driver’s licence. Louise must have dropped it out of her bag when she went looking for condoms. A feeling of euphoria rose in his chest. He might have just found a reason to contact her again.

  Turning it over, he glanced quickly at the cute picture of Lu before reading the name underneath it.

  Tallulah Lazenby.

  His whole body went cold as the name sank into his brain. Why was it so familiar? And why was he experiencing this sick, sinking feeling?

  Grabbing his laptop, he opened up the mail from his father giving him the details for the meeting at the radio station tomorrow. He scanned the text until his eyes alighted on the name of the woman his father wanted to fire.

  Tallulah Lazenby.

  She’d told him her name was Louise.

  She’d lied to him.

  His mind flitted back to all the moments that evening where she’d seemed to correct herself or change up her performance with him.

  She’d known who he was all along—deliberately latching onto him and seducing him, perhaps hoping he’d think twice before firing her from her job.

  He’d been played for a fool. Again.

  Flinging the card across the room, he flopped down onto the bed, furious with himself for being stupid enough to think this had been one of those genuinely serendipitous events.

  Hot humiliation washed through him, followed by icy anger. It felt just as bad as when he’d found out Marcy had been cheating on him.

  No. Worse.

  This had been a deliberate plan to manipulate him.

  That was why she’d choked when they’d first met; she must have seen a picture of him somewhere. His father had been known to include photos of his family members in his press releases if he thought it would benefit his businesses—to promote himself as a trustworthy employer with family values. What a joke that was.

  And he’d told her his name. He had a sudden memory flash of what he’d thought was her deciding whether to talk to him or not. She must have been deciding how best to get one over on him.

  Damn it. How had he allowed himself to be taken for such a fool?

  Pulling the sheet over him in frustration, he attempted to settle his still frustratingly aroused body into a comfortable sleeping position.

  One thing was for sure, it was going to be a very interesting meeting tomorrow.

  THREE

  The next morning, Lula held her thumping head in her hands as her bus made slow progress towards Covent Garden.

  How could she have thought it was a good idea to have such a wild night when she had to go into work this morning and defend herself against King Dong Jez?

  Clearly something had snapped in her tiny, overwrought brain.

  Not that she exactly regretted her time spent with Tristan.

  A warm wave of pleasure swept through her body as she remembered how great he’d tasted, all musky and earthy and sweet. Like salted caramel and strong coffee and sex. Delicious. Her taste buds tingled in response to the sensory memory. He’d smelt amazing too, like fresh linen and spicy shaving gel and cleanness.

  If only she could bottle his amazing scent and market it, it’d probably sell out in minutes and make her a fortune. She’d never need to work again.

  Not that she did it for the money. Ever since she’d discovered the buzz of pride and sense of accomplishment she got from hosting a radio show she’d been totally focused on getting to where she was today.

 
She couldn’t have this job snatched away from her now; it would break her heart.

  Alighting from the bus, she put her sunglasses on to protect her poor tired eyes against the bright spring sunshine and shoved her way through the crowded shopping streets of Covent Garden.

  After some expert ducking and dodging, she made it to the quieter end where the radio station was housed on the top floor of an old converted red-brick warehouse. Climbing the innumerable stairs, she felt her heart thudding against her ribcage in protest at the intense cardio workout. She wanted to go home, put her head under her pillow and blot out the rest of the day, but she knew she had to pull up her big girl pants and face whatever was in store for her today.

  There was no running away from this mess.

  Her stomach rumbled and flipped over as she walked into the sharply stylish, über contemporary reception area, which always smelled wonderfully of fresh coffee and the amazing Danish pastries that Flora the Receptionist kept strictly for visitors to the station.

  She remembered with regret how she hadn’t even had time to grab breakfast after sleeping through her alarm and having to scramble into the shower then throw on the first set of smart clothes that came to hand. There hadn’t even been time for pain relief—she’d desperately rifled through the medicine cupboard only to find she was out of paracetamol—so now she was going to have to sit through her meeting with a churning stomach and a head that felt as if someone was banging a thousand tiny hammers against it.

  As she was standing there contemplating her fate, one of the broadcast assistants walked past her into reception carrying what smelled like a hot bacon sandwich and she nearly fell to her knees with need.

  ‘Claire? I will love you for ever and have your darling babies if you let me buy that from you,’ she gasped, her eyes glued to the potential lifeline in Claire’s hand.

  ‘Sorry, Lula, no can do.’ Claire smiled apologetically. ‘This is for the Big Cheese that’s here for your meeting. He’s been prowling round the station like a disgruntled tiger since he got here and I daren’t be much longer or he might bite my head off and eat that instead.’