Brittney Vs. Banker: A Naughty Angel Tale Page 2

  I hear my lawyer mumbling something that sounds like, “God save me from spoiled rich kids,” but when I ask him to repeat himself louder, he brushes me off. “Nothing, nothing,” he says brusquely. “I’m here to post bail. I’ll get you out, and with any luck, I’ll get you off with just some fines.”

  “Thanks,” I say gratefully. Because as bored as I’ve been lately, not even I am bored enough to want to continue to sit around in a jail cell all day long. That’s a new level of boredom that I just can’t stomach.

  As my lawyer takes off to get the paperwork done and out of the way, I stare at my hands clasped in front of me, my hands cuffed together like a common criminal. I really need to find something to do with myself that doesn’t include breaking the windshields of police cruisers. Maybe I should try hang-gliding. I’ve heard it’s a lot of fun. It would certainly mean less time behind bars.

  Either way, I’m going to put in a word with the bartender at the Bungalow 8. A few Benjamins might convince him to keep an eye out for Ms. Mystery. Greasing palms has never failed me before, and she’s worth whatever I need to pay.

  3

  Brittney

  “Read this,” Erica says, shoving a newspaper into my hands. I stare down in shock at it – first off, who reads newspapers anymore?? – but then the words on the page jump out at me, and I’m just blown away. I stare at the grainy black-and-white photo above the article, trying to decide if that was really who I saw on Friday night. It’s hard to say. I wasn’t exactly sober when the guy had been busy bashing in the cop’s windshield, plus it had been dark and he’d been far away.

  But…yeah, sure, it looked like him.

  “Kaden Charles was the one who broke the cop’s windshield?” I ask in shock. “Kaden? Really?!” Everyone knew of Kaden the Wonder Kid. He’d made a name for himself a couple of years ago with some oil trade or something, and he was worth billions because of it.

  So why was he going around, breaking windshields? It didn’t make any sense.

  “That’s what the article says. Apparently, he spent the weekend in the clink.”

  “Do you…” I hesitate, the words sounding insane, even to me. “Do you think he did it for me? To distract the cop?” God, how self-centered do I sound! Am I seriously suggesting that someone would go to jail for the weekend, just to save my sorry need-to-go-pee-right-fucking-now ass? That seems a little extreme.

  Erica stares at me contemplatively. “Well…I don’t know. It sounds a little nuts, I’ll grant you that, but on the other hand, does it really matter why he did what he did? Whatever way you slice it, he saved you. And I think that deserves a proper thank you.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask her breathlessly.

  “If you’re thinking that you should fall face first onto his lap and give him the blowjob of a lifetime, then yes. If you’re thinking we should go out for tacos for lunch, then also yes.”

  I roll my eyes and toss the newspaper at her. “I have places to go, people to do,” I say with a naughty grin. “Don’t expect me back in time for tacos. I prefer hot dogs anyway.”

  Erica bust out laughing. “I cannot believe you just said that,” she said between snorts of laughter.

  “How is it that you’re surprised by my naughty side?” I ask with another naughty grin, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “I’d think you would expect it by now.”

  “I should, I really should!” she calls after me. I saunter out, putting on my sunglasses to ward off the too-bright sun. It’s time to see what the Wonder Kid’s dick looks like. With any luck, it’ll be as magnificent as his bank account.

  4

  Kaden

  I know it’s Tuesday morning because the calendar app on my phone says that it is, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s really Monday. After not getting out of jail until late – even Mark Anthony, as good as he is, struggled to save my ass – I just didn’t go into work yesterday. Which makes it the first day off that I’ve taken in almost two years, and quite frankly, my idea of a day off really shouldn’t include an orange jumpsuit.

  I contemplate hang-gliding again. It could be fun. It could give me the rush I’ve been missing for a while. Gweny, my secretary, hurries over to greet me as soon as I arrive on the top floor of my office building. This whole floor is my office – ridiculous, right? Who needs 10,000 square feet of office space? But I will admit that the view is fabulous.

  “Oh my god, you’re here!” Gweny says, checking me over as if she’s expecting that I’ll be covered in knife cuts and bruises. “I was so worried when I heard about the reports.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, shrugging away her concern. She’s in her late 50s, and in many ways, feels like my grandmother.

  “If you say so,” she says with a frown, stepping away from me. “I sure wish you’d take some time off, though.”

  “What do you think about hang-gliding?” I ask her.

  “Hang…” She’s just staring at me, mouth hanging wide open. “I haven’t been hang-gliding before, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you’d like me to research it, I can find out death rates and—”

  “No. Don’t worry about it.” Only Gweny would think to research death rates for a hobby. “What happened over the weekend?”

  “$52 million dollars.” She flashes me a happy smile. “Those stocks you picked skyrocketed because of what’s happening in the Middle East, and your customers made $52 million dollars just in the last three days.”

  “Great.” I’m trying to sound enthusiastic, but let’s be honest here – I’m failing miserably. It is all too easy, too predictable. I need a challenge. I need someone or something to force me to do something difficult. The financial markets stopped being difficult a long time ago.

  “If you need something outside of work to do,” Gweny says quietly, “may I suggest golf? There’s a significantly smaller mortality rate with golf than with hang-gliding.”

  “How do you know?” I grin at her. “You haven’t actually looked up the mortality rates for hang-gliding yet. Maybe golf is dangerous too. There are other golfers who might hit me with their clubs, and—”

  She reaches out and ruffles my hair, laughing. “If anyone is going to get a swing at you, I’m at the front of that line. I’ve had to put up with your shit for so long, I deserve some sort of payback.”

  Before I can come up with a sufficiently witty reply, Gweny’s intercom buzzes. “Is Mr. Charles up there?” Jennifer’s voice comes through clearly. She’s our front desk receptionist, tasked with keeping the crazies out who “just need a minute of your time, sir, to tell you about this new opportunity that you can get in on the ground floor” and letting through the visitors I actually want to see.

  “Yes, he’s right here,” Gweny calls back.

  “Well, Mr. Charles, there’s a lady here who wants to thank you for saving her last Friday night. Says she was part of the windshield breaking that you did?”

  The curiosity is so strong in Jennifer’s voice, she’s practically begging me to tell her the “real” story behind my weekend stint in the slammer, but I ignore that.

  My mystery girl is here. I didn’t even have to stalk the nightclub to see her again. Excitement buzzes through my veins. “Send her up!” I call out.

  I head to my own office casually, as if it’s normal for me to have a girl come up to my office to meet with me…who isn’t also a client of Kaden Charles Associates.

  Perfectly normal.

  “Golfing is a very fine hobby!” Gweny calls out as I close the office door behind me and head for my desk. I ignore her and instead focus on sitting down and looking casual. Relaxed. As if I couldn’t care less who walked through my door next.

  Just breathe, Kaden. Just breathe.

  5

  Brittney

  A severe-looking woman escorts me inside of Kaden’s office, and pointedly says to Kaden, “Don’t forget the meeting at eleven,” before closing the door behind her. I’m thinking she doesn’t a
pprove of me, although I’m not sure why. Does she blame me for Kaden spending the weekend in jail? It wasn’t exactly like I asked him to break the cop’s windshield or something.

  Speaking of, I really have no idea why he did that. Turning to Kaden, who is relaxing in his chair behind his desk, I decide I’m going to ask him point blank. There’s no point in me beating around the bush. Right? Right. Before I can start in on my interrogation, though, he preempts me.

  “Hi, I’m Kaden Charles,” he says, coming around the corner of the desk, his tall, muscular form towering over me as he reaches out to shake my hand.

  “Hi…hi,” I stutter. “Britt…Brittney Bartlett.” I sound like an idiot, but being up close and personal to Kaden, I am pretty much completely incapable of speaking. We clasp hands and jolts run up my arm, setting me on fire.

  Holy shit!

  I stare, open-mouthed, up at him. I probably resemble some sort of goldfish, my mouth gaping and then closing rhythmically, but hot damn if I can do a thing about it.

  He pulls his hand back, tucking them into his slacks as he leans against the desk, and I find that I can breathe a little easier now. Note to self: Don’t touch him and also expect to be able to talk.

  “So what brings you to my office?” he asks casually. How can he be so cool? So casual? Is this a one-sided electrical storm that I’m experiencing here?!

  “I just wanted to thank you…I just wanted to know…I need to ask – did you break that cop’s windshield to help me out?” I finally sputter out.

  I know it sounds awfully prideful of me to think that someone would break the law just to help me out, but nothing else makes sense. Kaden Charles wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to hop in and out of the clink on a regular basis.

  “Eh,” he says, shrugging. “I was bored. His windshield was right there. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I just picked up a rock and shucked it. The waving and blowing a kiss was just for fun.” He grins mischievously at me.

  “Really?” I just stare at him, totally perplexed. Okay, so maybe I am starting to get a little big for my britches, because I really thought that he’d done it on purpose. Well, on purpose to help me out.

  To know that he’s the kind of person who goes around smashing windshields because they’re bored? Like, what kind of a loser does that? I know, I know, I was peeing on a pile of napkins in a back alley at four in the morning, and thus, I really shouldn’t be judging anyone right now, but c’mon. That was the most law-breaky thing that I think I’ve ever done in my life. For fuck’s sakes, I even turn in my library books on time!

  Bottomline? As drop-dead sexy as Kaden Charles is, we don’t have a damn thing in common with each other. Which sucks ass, ‘cause if I feel that many sparks just by shaking his hand, imagine what I’d feel if his hand was on my pussy…

  But, whatevs. I’m not about to start hanging around a criminal, no matter what he does to my ability to breathe.

  Stiffly, I say, “Well, thanks for the inadvertent help, then. Good day.” I turn away and head for the door.

  “Wait! Stop!” he calls out.

  “You’ve got an 11 o’clock appointment,” I remind him without turning around. I can’t bear to look at him again. How could my hormones be that off? If I look at him, I just might give in and say, “Okay, blowjobs for everyone!”

  “Brittney, I’m sorry!” He reaches out and touches my shoulder, sending shocks down my arm and back.

  Dammit! Why oh why do I have to feel this way about a common criminal?! At least on my side, the sparks are so huge, we’re in imminent danger of starting a wildfire in Oklahoma. I cannot believe that my body would betray me like this.

  Bad Brittney, bad!

  “I was trying to play it cool,” he says, his hand still on my shoulder. He’s stroking it lightly with his thumb, sending jolts through my body. “I just didn’t want to seem too eager. The truth is, I was kind of stalking you.”

  Okay, that got my attention. I turned around and stared up, up, up at him (WHO MAKES PEOPLE THIS TALL?!) and glare. “You what?!” I gasp. I mean, if I’m going to have a stalker, Kaden is defs the one I’d pick, but still…I can’t believe he said that.

  “I watched you out on the dance floor – you’re amazing, by the way. When you dance, you’re just gorgeous. I was just about to ask you to dance when the club finally shut down for the night, kicking us all out. I heard the…uhhh…pee discussion—” okay, my face is flaming red right now, “—and so when the cop spotted you guys, I knew you were going to get in trouble. I didn’t know what to do, so I just reacted. I grabbed a loose brick on the ground and shucked it as hard as I could at the windshield.”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t realize at the time that I’d spend the weekend in jail, but it was worth it, because you’re here in my office. I thought I was going to have to haunt the club for the next month, hoping to see you.”

  “Really?” I breathe, staring up at him. I’m in shock. I mean, I thought he’d done it to help me, but hearing it was different. Hearing it made it real.

  “I’d planned on stopping by on the way home and slipping a hundred to the bartender to keep an eye out for you and call me if you showed up again.”

  “Really???” Okay, so I know that I wasn’t all excited about being stalked by him like five minutes ago, but hearing that he was willing to pay $100 just to be told the next time I showed up at a nightclub was…flattering.

  My heart is running like a triphammer and I’m back to feeling the sparks. ALL the sparks. We’re probably the cause of wildfires burning in the wilds of Idaho right now.

  “Yeah, really,” he says quietly, smoothing my hair back. “Truth is, I’ve never been in jail before. I’ve never broken the windshield of a cop car before. I even turn in my library books on time.”

  “Now wait a minute!” I say, putting my hands on my hips and just staring at him. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you check out books from the library??”

  “My mom was a librarian and I grew up playing in the stacks,” he says with a modest shrug of the shoulders. “They are the great equalizers in our society. Everyone can afford a library card. I don…I help the New York Library system out as I can.”

  I am just sure he had been about to say “donate.” I’m suddenly really curious if he donates anonymously or if he puts his name on every donation plaque in the building. Somehow, I’m guessing it’s the former.

  “Wow,” I breathe, reaching up and smoothing his hair back. Turnabout is fair play and all that. “It sounds like the New York Library system is lucky to have you around.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” he says, looking uncomfortable. I’m now willing to bet next year’s income on the fact that he’s making every donation anonymously.

  “I think that this sort of thing should be rewarded,” I say with a lascivious smile.

  “Oh you do, do you?” His breathing is suddenly a little unsteady and I silently celebrate my victory. After the havoc that he’s been playing with my stomach and the twerking butterflies that have taken up residence there, it’s about time I pay him back in kind.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I risk a glance downwards and find that Mr. Kaden Charles, Boy Wonder, is sporting a hard-on that would probably be visible from space. God, he looks massive. Suddenly, I wonder if I’m even going to be able to do it – get my mouth wrapped around his cock.

  Only one way to know for sure, right?

  I drop to my knees in front of him, and unbuckle his belt and then unzip his pants. His hiss of breath tells me what I want to know – he wants it as much as I do.

  Time to give him what he wants. I think after all he’s done, he deserves it, right?

  Right.

  I pull his boxer-briefs down and stare in disbelief at the largest dick I’ve ever seen.

  6

  Brittney

  Kaden's huge cock on display in front of me...my very first reaction is to lick my lips. But my second reaction definitely involve
s my heart skipping a beat.

  I have never seen a cock that big before. I didn't know they made them as wide and long as that monster.

  The blowjob thing isn't so much a joke anymore to me. I really want to blow him! Putting that cock in my mouth and doing a decent job on it starts to feel like not just my duty as a gracious gal showing how thankful I am, but it is like a challenge to my very capabilities as a grown woman who prides herself on being good in bed.

  Now, you have to understand, I'm as sex positive as the next girl.

  Okay, scratch that, I'm actually sex positive. I'm not one those girls that hates her own pussy and rarely orgasms. Like, I take care of myself and when I'm going to sleep with someone, they're going to take care of me, okay?

  Like blowjobs aren't exactly the first choice option on my mind for sexual activity, no matter how much I like hot dogs more than tacos, I prefer the hot dog in the taco? Okay, that's gross.

  I just want you to know how wild it is that I'm craving, craving that footlong special he's wielding right now. Wielding, yes, like a fucking weapon because that massive cock has my eyes widening to their limits. My mouth is watering. I want to tackle this monster. I am going to suck that cock so good, or die trying. Seriously, I'm willing right now to take the risk and choke myself on that big bad Wonder Willy.

  I giggle. Wonder Willy? That's so silly. That's not a silly dick, even if it is perhaps a novelty size. But this is all business.

  I'm so nervous...but, shit, I should not be laughing when the man I am trying to provide a Thank You Blowjob has just shown me his massive man meat. Seriously, I can't return my eyes to their normal sizes and now I'm giggling stupidly.

  "Oh, no, I'm not laughing at," I start stammering. "I'm just a tad delirious on dick right now," I offer by way as explanation. I turn my head away from him an grimace. Dear lord, did I just say that? Maybe the next time I'm at the library, I'll find a thesaurus and think of better things to say when expressing myself. Or I'll consult the dictionary first. I think I can be safe going to the library without running into him. I mean, otherwise I might point at his gorgeous face and laugh or something.