When Vicki broke up with Malcolm she felt sure her life was over. She knew she would never find another love like the one they shared and her alcohol fueled birthday party is but one of her coping mechanisms. That night, as she prepares for bed, unexpected company in the form of her best friend Lara, changes everything for her . . . and for the lives of many of her guests.
For the first time, enjoy the full story. Six different couples enjoy their first or most significant sexual encounters with their loved ones. This sizzling collection includes all six stories in the Meeting Each Other series 'Vicki & Lara', 'Carol, Niall & Lin', 'Bill', 'Eric & Morgan', 'Simone & Mr Bradford' and 'Malcolm.'
Simone faced the door, resisting the urge to knock a second time.
Her gaze flicked up to the fancy lettering on the shiny gold name plate.
AMOS BRADFORD ESQ
Now there was a man worth worrying over. Mature. Rich. Sexy, even with, or because of, his foul moods and worse language.
She nibbled her bottom lip.
Everybody knew that Bradford hated his gold-digging wife. They understood that his relationship at home bled into his working life, forcing everyone to walk on eggshells until sure of his mood. The worst kept secret in the world was that Mrs Bradford refused to sign divorce papers. Clearly she saw more profit in maintaining her marriage to the businessman who alternated his Jaguar with his Ferrari three days a week.
‘Come in.’ His voice splintered Simone’s thoughts.
After a brief hesitation she opened the door.
Bradford stood by his desk with his back to her, the expensive fabric of his jacket drawn tight over his squash-player’s shoulders. A curl of dark hair tumbled over his collar. When he turned, his shirt buttons strained over a chest tight with muscle.
She looked at his face, but his gaze aimed lower, straight at a gap in her blouse.
Morgan, that arse! He couldn’t tell me I’d lost a button?
She cleared her throat and tried not to think about how much of her bra was on display. ‘Sir, I have the letters for countersigning.’
He looked up, at last, and instead of meeting her gaze, glanced at his computer screen. ‘Bring them here.’
Why did that brusque order sound like so much more?
As she walked, Simone’s heels sank into the lush carpet. Burgundy and tasteful, just like everything else, from the oak table – twice the size of hers – to the leather chair behind it.
She stood near his desk, waiting for an invitation to sit. It never came.
‘How many today?’ He didn’t look away from the screen.
It took Simone several seconds to figure out what he meant. ‘Twelve,’ she blurted. ‘There’ll be more this afternoon, but some of the calculations need double checking.’
Bradford blew a heavy breath through his nose. His gaze dropped back to her breasts then flicked up again, lightening quick. ‘How much in total?’
She squirmed. ‘£16,000.’
‘I heard what you said, Miss Daye. I’m just surprised. I thought we were doing well this month.’
Simone licked her lips. Not for the first time she inwardly cursed Rae and her happy trigger finger when agreeing compensation. ‘Many customers had good cases, Sir. Their complaints are the result of major staff errors.’
A snort. ‘Make sure it’s in the monthly report. I want to know who’s lost their bonus this year.’
That said, Bradford snagged the stack of papers from her grip and skim-read them. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of each. His lips twitched as he read, the icy blue of his eyes dancing back and forth as he skimmed the text. Twice he snorted, once he outright growled and slashed his signature across the page with a ferocity that almost tore the paper.
At the last letter, he paused.
Simone held her breath. It was one of hers.
‘£3,000?’ He glanced up. ‘To one person?’
‘Yes. The customer lost four days of business due to a faulty machine. She also had a break-in—’
‘Not our problem.’ Bradford narrowed his eyes.
She squirmed. ‘No . . . but the FSA is involved. I’ve already talked her down from £20,000—’
Gazing into his eyes, Simone knew she had no need to repeat herself. This time she waited, watching his face for clues of his mood.
‘£20,000? And you talked her down?’
‘I was talking to her for an hour, but I did it.’
Amos Bradford smiled. The change to his face was alarming.
Wrinkles vanished from around his eyes and a small dimple puckered his left cheek. Frown lines smoothed out and the darkness filling his gaze melted away. He looked almost young.
‘Impressive. Very impressive.’
‘Thanks.’ She risked a smile.
Bradford signed the last page with an extravagant flourish. His pen flew from his fingers, hit the desk and bounced to the floor. ‘Grab that, will you?’
What am I, your maid?
Simone ducked and groped for it. The pen slid away and rolled beneath the desk. ‘Damn.’
She cringed, biting her lip over the answer she longed to give. ‘No, I’ll get it.’ She wedged herself beneath the table. Her fingers brushed something soft, lain over something hard and long. Confused she gripped tighter. It flexed.
Fuck, that’s his calf. He’s ripped like an Olympic runner!
Before she could pull her hand back, Simone heard a knock at the office door.
‘Come in,’ said Bradford at once. His leg flexed beneath her hand again, then slid forward to stroke her arm.
What the hell? She pulled away. He followed, nudging her fingers with his toe.
The office door opened.
Simone squeaked, conscious of her rear sticking up from beneath the desk.
‘Hi, Amos,’ a chirpy female voice filled the room. ‘Your wife is on line six.’
What the hell must I look like? Maybe the chair hides me. Jesus, was he really playing footsie with me?
Hardly daring to breathe, Simone waited.
About the Author:
Hi, I'm Raven.
I'm the second half of a single author who likes to separate her work not only with different names, but personalities.
I'm the fun one. :p
I write erotica (romantic, kinky, pure fun) and take great pleasure in telling stories to delight and titillate. Smut with brains, that's what I do.
Some stories draw from real life experiences, others are complete fabrications of the mind. There's no way in hell I'm going to tell you which is which because... where's the fun in that?
In live in the UK and work from home while caring for my two young sons. I'm fortunate enough to live with a man who knows and understands what it is to be a 'creative' and is supportive, loving and kind in every way.
Now that the Meeting Each Other series is complete I'll be working on a series of novels under the group title Slippers & Chains, the first of these, Sugar Dust, will be out shortly. I'll also be working in collaboration with Ileandra Young to produce some fun and smexxy urban fantasies with an erotic slant.
Find Meeting Each Other and Raven ShadowHawk Online: