Assets (Balance Sheet #1) Read online

  Assets

  Shannon Dermott

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition

  Copyright 2013 Shannon Dermott

  All Rights reserved

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my fans.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book would be nothing if not for a couple of people.

  Then, to my beta readers who is nothing but gold! Many thanks to Michele Hammel.

  And thanks to Virginia Wilson, my editor.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Pressed against the wall of a bathroom stall in an exclusive club in New York wasn’t how I expected to spend New Year’s Eve, especially with a stranger at my front. Don’t get me wrong, the stranger was the kind of gorgeous that would make Zeus beg for a mulligan to recreate his outward appearance to rival the man leaning into me. But after all I’d been through in the past few weeks, I should have known better.

  The husky groan of the man as his hands found the unnecessary garters under my skirt told a different story than my drunken brain tried to fool myself into believing. It was because of and not despite the recent events that I found myself here, one hundred percent drunk and on the verge of fucking a stranger in the posh and seemingly clean bathroom of the Eventi Hotel.

  My body shivered as his warm hand moved purposefully between my inner thighs. What the hell was I doing? I wasn’t this girl. I’d only ever had two previous lovers. All reason dissolved when his mouth descended to my neck, making me squirm and giggle in delight.

  “Do you really want this?” he asked with a deep voice that spouted an accent I couldn’t make out in my current state. His hands were about to make contact in T minus one. Damn, my body ignited like the Shuttle Endeavour with his touch at my core. The thong I wore provided no barrier, as I grew wetter than a leaky faucet, which should have embarrassed me. However, this man had moves that made me whimper and want to beg to be fucked in the most undignified way.

  His lips were soft on my collarbone and nibbled hungrily all the way to my mouth. His kiss tasted of expensive wine, the kind they had passed around to all the guests of this evening’s event, even to those on the dance floor, in anticipation of the countdown. For the briefest of moments, I wondered where those wine glasses had gone. We had brought them in here. That thought dissipated when he pushed his hand up my shirt like a man familiar with the act. And just as rapidly he popped my right breast from the confines of my lacy bra as a finger or maybe two from his other hand slid inside me. My eyes popped opened. When had I closed them? Maybe it was when his ministrations had caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head. I squirmed as he nipped on my neck, and my eyes landed on the two half-filled Waterford flutes at our feet before my head slammed back into the tiled stall wall out of sheer pleasure. A gasp escaped my lips, and not from any head trauma. Pleasure had won out over any stunned feelings from the contact with the solid wall. The rest of my inhibitions that hadn’t been drowned by the alcohol flew out of my mind. “Yes,” I gasped, answering his question.

  “Yes what?” he growled, before his lips again tasted my flesh, my breast filling his mouth as his fingers continued to stroke in and out of me with precision. His thumb expertly rubbed my nub.

  Overcome by the lightening building in my body, I said, “Yes, please fuck me.” Begging was the least of my concern, my ego no longer in play. My words ended on a cry that sailed out of my mouth as the first orgasm hit. He continued to stroke and rub, stroke and rub, prolonging my pleasure. Cresting the wave, my knees weakened. He responded by removing his fingers and holding me firmly up by my ass, one handed. Damn, he was strong too, total swoon. Then his free hand tugged and pulled free the fabric string of my thong, leaving it hanging and out of the way as I looked on.

  Still that one hand wasn’t done. He freed himself, tore open a condom with his teeth and slid the damn thing on. It happened so fast in the shadows of the stall, I only heard the ripping of the foil. I couldn’t process how often this guy must have done this with other women considering his skill level until later. His thigh spread me wide just before he lifted me off the ground and onto him. I didn’t have time to think before he sheathed himself balls deep inside me. Sucking in a breath, part from pleasure and part pain, my eyes widened. He stretched me so. I chastised myself for not looking at his manhood. It was clearly larger than anything that had ever entered me before.

  Freezing in place deep inside me, he groaned, “You’re so tight.”

  I wanted to say, What a big dick you have. Instead I sputtered. “I, I-” but he started moving in and out. The experience was like no other. I felt all of him on each stroke. He hit every magic button my body had and I lost all ability to speak.

  Instead, I wrapped my legs around his waist and, as cliché as it sounds, enjoyed the ride. My back and head shoved into a wall that wouldn’t give, but it didn’t matter, especially not after I hit orgasms two and three before the faint Muzak in the background changed to the unmistakable midnight countdown.

  Ten, his rhythm changed. Nine, faster he slipped in and out of me. Eight, he sucked at my neck still pounding into me and I knew there would be bruises. Seven, I felt another orgasm coming on, unable to explain the how of it. Six, “Fuck,” he gritted out in my ear. Five, my fingers twined in his hair, guiding his face to mine. Four, I bit him on the mouth crazed by lust and desperation. Three, he pumped me hard. My back was taking a beating. Two, he sucked at my lower lip then took it between his teeth. One, he came, sending me into the wall with a final shove, pushing me over the edge a final time. A guttural sound so primitive left his lips I had to see if he was still human before he kissed me again. Happy Fucking New Year.

  For a while, we stayed molded like that. The heat we’d created cooled quickly as we remained still, my stilettos digging into his back. Then he eased out of me. I relaxed my leg lock, allowing him to set me slowly on my feet. My back slid down the wall to find my height of five feet five inches before my four-inch heels hit the ground. Still, I was much shorter than he.

  “Aye, Lass, Happy New Year,” he said, staring into my eyes. His were as green as the forest of his native Scottish lands, I imagined once my brain was able to discern the origins of his accent.

  My brain back online, I was encumbered by mortification at what I’d done. Unable to look him in the eye any longer, I ducked under one of his massive arms that had partly caged me in and ran out of the bathroom away from the stranger that I’d let fuck me after only knowing him—how long? Minutes, an hour tops, maybe? I was seeking my friend, my best friend, rather, who hadn’t stopped me from this colossal fuck up.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Shoving open the restroom door, I realized just how soundproofed the bathroom had been. With the door open, the noise from the party hit me like a Mack truck. I nearly stumbled back. But my determination to leave pushed me forward even if I was unsteady on my feet due to alcohol or because I had been thoroughly fucked. One thing I was grateful for was that as far as I could tell in my hasty retreat, we’d been the only occupants of the place, probably because it had been so close to countdown.

  Winding my way through the mass of people in the halls and in the banquet hall, I found my way back to my best friend Lizzy. She was exactly where I had left her, dancing with the stranger that had found her the same time mine had found me. Briefly, I wondered if they were friends because they’d approach us from behind at the same time when Lizzy and I had been drunk dancing together, giving anyone close
a show.

  I’d only gotten a passing glance at the guy who’d occupied her time. Just a bit taller than her, he had dark blonde hair and sexy five o’clock shadow. The quick glance I’d gotten before turning to my sex-on-two-legs said her guy had pleasing features. Since they’d become quite a bit more intimate with each other in my time away. Lip locked like long lost lovers, they were grinding into each other like they needed a room. Hell, who was I to judge? I’d found a room in the form of a bathroom stall. And I hated to interrupt, but this was an emergency.

  One of two things was about to happen. Either sexy accent with a big cock was about to come after me, forcing me to face my shame, or he wouldn’t. Either I didn’t relish. It’s not that I wanted to have him find me. But let’s face it, no one wants rejection. And if he didn’t follow, I obviously wasn’t worth it. And maybe, just maybe I was his worse fuck ever. He clearly knew his way around. So, I had to leave right away before I became aware of his choice.

  Tapping Lizzy on the back, she slowly disengaged herself from a man who had to be a supermodel. Who the hell knew there were so many hot bachelors in New York? God, he was hot.

  Lizzy’s eyes narrowed on me. I knew that stare. She wasn’t pleased I’d cut in. “Look, I have to get out of here. Either you’re coming with or I’ll see you later,” I said, standing on my toes to reach her ear. Lizzy was taller than me by several inches. And even though I was wearing four-inch heels, so was she.

  “What?” she said holding out her hands in surrender, looking for an explanation.

  “Later,” I said, turning away suddenly feeling very sick. Not only did I need to get away, I needed air. I heard her call out my name, which only served as a wakeup call that one-hour stand guy hadn’t called out after me when I’d left the bathroom. Trying to rationalize my shame, I decided he wasn’t one to make noise and he was probably respectfully quiet while seeking me out in the fray. The lies we tell ourselves.

  Outside, the crisp air hit me like the frost that escaped my mouth, instant and telling. I hurried to the curb with my arm outstretched, hoping against hope for a cab at this hour on this night in New York City. Thankfully, we weren’t in Times Square. Tears pricked my eyes as I stared at the dirty curb wanting to fall to my knees but thinking better of it. This might just go down in history as one of my biggest regrets.

  An arm came over my shoulder and I snapped around to see who was touching me. I sighed in relief when I spotted Lizzy. She held out my coat for me to shrug into. Damn, that’s why it was so cold. I wasn’t wearing a coat. I was acting like a lunatic. I wasn’t the first girl to have a one-night stand. And who would blame me after all that’d happened?

  “What the hell, girlfriend,” Lizzy said as I slipped into it.

  That’s when it hit me. Bile. A yellow cab had just pulled up from my earlier hail when I tossed my cookies on the very curb I’d contemplated sitting on. It splashed as it left my mouth and landed on the ground. God knew what else besides barf spattered onto Lizzy and my shoes. My friend’s Jimmy Choo’s might be ruined, but she held my hair like only a bestie would.

  “Yous two getting in our what?” came a voice from the open window of the cab.

  The cabbie didn’t seem bothered that I was choking out the entire contents of my stomach. After a final retch, Lizzy opened the door and helped me inside. As the cab pulled away, I looked back hoping that the best fuck of my life had come for me. And as if fate would give me this gift, my first for the New Year, Mr. Tall Hard and Fuck Me walked out of the hotel, searching for me I assumed. I shimmied down in my seat before his gaze could possibly lock onto mine. Well, at least he had come looking for me. That was something.

  The drive shouldn’t have been long, but with Times Square attendees finding other places to go, the streets were packed. The ride was awful as my stomach still rebelled with every bump and turn.

  Once home, my hand was warm with a cup of ginger tea that Lizzy made for me. A blanket wrapped around me was added comfort while I sat in a chair next to the fireplace. I looked at my friend.

  “So, tell me, why did we have to leave that amazing party?” she asked, thoughtfully. I was grateful she didn’t seem at all pissed.

  I had to give her bonus points for not pressing me on the ride home and waiting until I’d showered, changed and brushed my teeth before finally asking me again what the hell my problem was in such the nice Lizzy way.

  “I fucked him,” I said in a rush.

  She too was in a chair, this one directly across from me. Her legs lazily hung over the side of one arm. Eyes wide, she leaned forward as if she were about to tell a secret. “The guy from the dance floor you left with?”

  I nodded sheepishly.

  “Holy shit, Bails. Was it good? Did you cum?”

  “Lizzy, that isn’t the point,” I cried, getting misty eyed at my faux pas. I was a closet slut. I chided myself.

  Rolling her eyes and waving her hand, she said, “Bails, you deserve a good shag. Just tell me, was it great or what?”

  Unable to lie to my best friend, I confessed, “It was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Admitting this to her meant I had to admit this fact to myself.

  “Then what the fuck,” she said. “No pun attended.” She chuckled to herself and I found myself getting more irritated by the second. I started to push to my feet. “Wait, Bails. I’m sorry. It’s just you are all worked up over nothing. You deserve this. After everything that asshole Scott put you through. I bet he never made you cum in the three years you two were together.”

  Her mentioning Scott should have brought tears to my eyes. I’d loved him, hadn’t I? But it only brought fury. Maybe I never loved him. Then her words came back to me. Had Scott ever made me cum? The question should be ridiculous. We’d been together so long. Our sex life had been fine. Or hadn’t it? I must still have been a bit drunk because my brain was fuzzy on the details. Yet trying to think about sex with Scott brought my thoughts around to my tryst with the stranger, who, by the way, remained nameless. I should have had a scarlet A embroidered on my chest or maybe an H for harlot.

  What the hell had I done? It started on the dance floor, the way he sparked fantasy in me. His body fit perfectly with mine despite his height. The way he moved against me yelled that he would rock my world. He didn’t even have to grope me to set me ablaze. Locking his eyes on mine, he’d leaned down and kissed me. It was as if his kiss was the lit match. The line of fire it created headed directly to my core. And when the explosion melted me down, he must have seen it. Desire had burned bright in his eyes too. But let’s be honest, what guy turns down the promise of sex, especially from a half decent looking girl? I was no Lizzy, but I wasn’t bad looking.

  When he’d begun to lead me from the dance floor, I’d gone willingly with the promise of more to come. And boy had I cum, three maybe four times. Scott had never made me have multiple orgasms. That much I knew for sure.

  “Bails.” Pause. “Bailey,” Lizzy near shouting brought me out of my inner thoughts. She didn’t often say my whole name, so I lifted my head feeling a blush cross my cheeks. A sly grin played on her mouth. “Tell me all now, or I’ll kick you out of my house,” she declared, only teasing. She knew I had nowhere else to go, not just yet at least. Still, I spilled to her every detail. It wasn’t like I was ever going to see the man again.

  “That sounds hot,” Lizzy said. “From what I saw of him, he was hot.”

  “Hot or not, I hope I never see him again,” I admitted, heat still burning in my cheeks. She may be my best friend, but I wasn’t one for kiss and tell, especially details of sex. The one and only time I’d told her about Scott and me, it had been our first time together. After hearing the tale she had immediately declared it was boring and hadn’t asked much about our doings thereafter.

  Lizzy pursed her lips in that way of hers. “Bails, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t shag him alone.”

  “You know how it is. He probably thinks I’m some slut,” I said, hiding my fa
ce behind a curtain of my hands.

  “Who cares? You had a great fuck on what would have been your wedding night. You basically screwed Scott by fucking that guy.” She laughed at her own joke. It might have been funny if we were talking about someone else. But this was me. And I wasn’t that girl. Well, I was at that moment.

  “I’m going to bed,” I said, rising from my seat. I just needed to sleep it off.

  Being a good friend, she knew when to lay off. “Night, Bails. And don’t forget your date tomorrow with the guy my mom set you up with.” Groaning, I rolled my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was go on a date. Seeing my annoyance, she giggled again. I headed to the guest room, turned my bedroom, at least until I found somewhere else to live.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My eyes may have momentarily opened, but quickly I closed them against the brightness of the sunlight filtering into the room. Waking up hung-over is never fun. And for me, it wasn’t a regular occurrence. But it had happened enough for me to recognize the symptoms. Even though I’d retched up most of what I’d consumed the night before on the curb, enough alcohol had been absorbed in my bloodstream for my head to pound like a marching band was on a parade through it.

  Slipping my feet over the side of the bed had caused me to use considerable effort. Once on my feet, I got the most uncomfortable sensation between my thighs. Yes, I most definitely had been fucked hard last night, as if I desired the reminder. I ached at my very center. On wobbly feet, I headed to my private bath, courtesy of Lizzy’s kindness.

  Finding an apartment in New York on short notice didn’t happen. Thankfully, my former college roommate had an empty guest room she eagerly lent to me at no charge and with no restriction on the length of my stay. Still, I searched for an apartment because I wouldn’t take advantage of her kindness, even if she didn’t need money.