Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss

Ch. 14: Later

I sit on the edge of the bed and lean down to unfasten the ankle straps on my high-heeled sandals.

"Later," Max says, stopping me.

"Later? How much later?" I know we've been in bed, not walking around, but my feet are tired and I really want to get these shoes off.

"I want you wearing them when I bend you over the conference table."

My mouth goes dry, and a shiver runs through my entire body. I forget all about my tired feet.

Max reaches out for my hand and I get up, letting him pull me along to the area I noticed earlier where a conference table and chairs are set up. I don't know why my heart is pounding so crazy. We just had sex. Probably—no, absolutely—the best sex I've ever had.

I should be sated and sleepy.

Instead, I already want more.

We stop at the entrance to the conference area and I stare at the smooth surface of the table. There are six executive chairs, upholstered in rich leather. "Is this where you play poker?"

"I play poker in the high stakes room in the casino. This is where we've been holding meetings."

"Who is we?"

"Some people I have business dealings with," he says vaguely. We move forward until we're standing at the end of the conference table. Max tosses a couple of condoms I didn't realize he was holding onto one of the chairs.

"Just think," Max says, "a few hours ago there was a meeting going on here, and this table was littered with food and whiskey glasses."

I try to imagine the people sitting around the table, but my mind can only conjure up Al Pacino and the actors in all the mafia movies I've ever seen. There's no evidence now that anyone else was in the suite, much less shady people conducting probably shady business deals right here in this alcove.

"So where did it all go? All the stuff from your meeting?" I ask, turning to face him and trying to ignore the fact that I'm standing here completely naked, wearing what apparently Max considers to be a pair of very sexy shoes. Since he won't let me take them off.

My breasts tingle again. I know without looking down that my nipples are erect, and that Max can tell how aroused I am.

But instead of feeling embarrassed, I feel powerful.

Max is naked too, and apparently has amazing recuperative powers because he's already hard again. He rolls a condom on and answers me matter-of-factly.

"Housekeeping and concierge services at this level are instantly available to make any kind of mess disappear."

I have the sudden irreverent thought that I wonder if they make bodies disappear as well, since I'm pretty sure the people Max is meeting with are that kind of connected.

Then another thought hits me and I whirl, looking toward the door of the suite.

"Wait, they aren't going to just come in here, are they?" I might like to imagine a room full of wise guys in my fantasies, but in real life I don't want anyone—including hotel staff—catching Max and me naked, much less having sex.

"I set the door on Do Not Disturb," he reminds me, then takes hold of my shoulders and turns me around. "Now stop wasting time and bend over the table."

His voice has this undercurrent of authority of a man who is accustomed to people doing exactly what he says. What it's doing to me is making me hot.

I lean over, running my hands on the smooth wood surface.