happy halloween! i hope that you’re doing well, and that things are colorful in your corner of the world. i did promise to try to have something posted in time for halloween, and i do have a new read for you! don’t worry, there are no ghosts like my last halloween story, but i hope you enjoy my contribution.
as always, i want to thank all of you who take the time out of your day to visit my humble blog. your support, feedback, and light mean so much to me.
whether you’re having or attending a party, taking your little ghouls and goblins trick-or-treating, or just handing out candy to cute little witches and cowboys…have a safe and fantastic halloween.
i hope that you enjoy sleight of hand.
sleight of hand
“The devil has no power…except in the dark.” —Cassandra Clare, City of Bones
“I’m not babysitting him, Brian.” On a conference call with her supervisor, Nahla rolled her eyes.
“I can’t meet with him and I know that if anyone can close this deal, it’s you.” There was a short pause. “This is an important account for everyone.” If this were a game of chess, Brian Powell would have just forced Nahla’s enemy King into an unfavorable corner with that comment.
She sighed. “Fine, I’ll consult with him.” She could almost hear her boss smiling through the phone. Being an executive at a commercial real estate firm didn’t lend itself to turning away clients, especially ones of Matthew Grant’s caliber. Nahla was confident and direct, but she was also personable; and that’s how she won the trust of her clientele. But the rumors about Matthew’s demeanor didn’t inspire her confidence.
He entered Nahla’s corner office fifteen minutes late, bringing with him a swagger that grated on her nerves. He also brought his strong investing principles and a need to put his money somewhere.
“Mr. Grant, I’m Nahla Davenport.” She crossed the lavishly furnished room with her hand extended.
Immediately struck by her exotic appearance, he shook her hand. “So you’re the ambitious executive that came so highly recommended.” In his late forties, Matthew Grant was a well-respected, self-made business man who came from humble beginnings. But everyone Nahla talked to said that he was impossible to work with.
It was rumored that most rival firms never got past their presentation; that he had a reputation for being openly critical during heated discussions over contractors and renovations, never hid the fact that he was bored and would sometimes walk away in the middle of potential million dollar meetings without even asking for projections, leaving banks with no choice but to pull the listing and consult with another firm.
Be calm, be dignified, she reminded herself. “Mr. Powell sends his apologies; I’ll be handling our meeting this afternoon.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she invited him to take a seat in the chair facing her desk. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or tea?” she asked, handing him a presentation folder which he nonchalantly looked through.
“No, thank you.” Matthew wasn’t Hollywood handsome, but he was a distinguished, dark-haired, green-eyed eligible bachelor who had single and married women from all social circles gravitating towards him. He looked up, taking in the full length of her body before she sat down. “Brian told me about your impeccable project success rate, but he never mentioned how beautiful you were.”
A flash of heat went through her that she didn’t welcome. Flattered and agitated by his compliment, Nahla thanked him. “I understand that you’re looking for an aesthetic property. This particular building is a foreclosure, but it can be purchased inexpensively and fixed up.” She then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to convince him that the deal was promising. “The potential for appreciation on the investment is excellent and I have contacts at Lennox Financial who are prepared to negotiate.”
The entire time his eyes were on her, but he wasn’t paying attention to her pitch. He was analyzing her, long and hard. His gaze lingered at her smooth, medium brown skin, high cheekbones, and a pair of revealing, almond-shaped eyes. Her shoulder-length black hair with auburn highlights and side-swept bangs suited her. She had a habit of wetting her lips, probably an unconscious habit, but it was turning him on.
Nahla noticed Matthew checking her out more than once. He wasn’t very subtle about it, either: sly smiles and deep stares here and there. He was trying to make a connection, but she wouldn’t return his interest.
He mumbled something: she expected him to get impatient, verbally attack her and leave. “Any other investors that want in on this?” he asked with a long sigh, tossing the proposal on her desk.
“It’s an attractive, profitable enterprise; and I do have some foreign investors who are interested in this deal.” She’d be willing to bet that Matthew had already done his homework and knew about the foreign investors.
She needs to loosen up. “Perhaps we can discuss this deal over dinner. There’s a new steakhouse I’ve been dying to try.” His eyes leisurely swept over her again.
Her eyes met his. She drank him in for a few seconds, cleared her throat then looked away. “I’m a vegetarian, Mr. Grant.” That was a lie. Nahla felt that unwelcome flash again. Eager for him to leave, she glanced at her watch and brought the presentation to a close by standing up and making her way to the door. “But I would love to invite you to our annual Halloween party this Saturday night.” She tried to hide her irritation.
“All business with you. I like that.” Taking the hint, Matthew followed. “So—where is this shin-dig, sweetheart?” He flashed her an over-confident smile, pretending not to notice her fist balling up.
“Please, call me Nahla. You can get the information from my assistant. Don’t forget to wear a costume.”
She watched him turn on the heel of his Tom Ford loafers and leave her office. In that short time, Matthew Grant managed to rub her the wrong way and give her a headache. Closing the large oak door, she prayed—twice—that she didn’t blow this meeting.
Nahla looked at her fist. Hitting him would probably turn him on.
Halloween party : Are You Afraid of the Dark?
During the day, Lakehurst Resort operated as an upscale family destination spot. Tonight, after hours, its large banquet hall would be transformed into a haunted carnival to host the annual Halloween party for Nahla’s company. Everyday items like PVC pipe, burlap and cheesecloth were formed over Styrofoam to create ghoulish scarecrows and horses. There were cauldrons bubbling in the corners, realistic cobwebs cleverly strewn across a scary ticket booth at the entrance, intricately carved pumpkins on each cloth-covered table that lit up from the inside, and a fortune teller. Later, there would be a contest for the best costume, and a horror movie.
When Matthew arrived at the party dressed as the devil, complete with makeup that looked professionally done, he spotted Brian Powell immediately and they talked shop over drinks and appetizers. Nahla was standing with a small group; every few seconds, he would turn his head to look at her. Compared to the other costumes, there wasn’t anything special about the pink boxing uniform she was wearing, but he couldn’t stop looking at her.
It took him all day, but he finally figured out why she was so intriguing: like most women, she wasn’t hell-bent on throwing herself at him, or rather, his bank account. He was instantly drawn to her in a way he’d not been toward anyone else. She was—different.
He recalled vividly how soft her hand was in his a couple of days ago. The way her dress pants emphasized her curves; getting a peek down her fitted shirt at her ample cleavage. He could still smell the jasmine and coconut water notes he picked up in the perfume she was wearing. He smiled to himself, thinking about her hand at her side, balled into a fist. All of these thoughts elevated his desire.
The party was in full swing. One hundred and fifty costumed employees mingled, played games, laughed, and danced to the music of a local band. Nahla was casting her vote for the best costume when Matthew appeared next to her. “Trick-or-treat.”
She took one glance at him. “Mr. Grant…I see you’ve let your alternate ego out for the night.”
“Speaking of alternate egos…” He looked her up and down. “Don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy being someone else, even for a couple of hours.” It wasn’t mandatory that Nahla show up, but as an executive who was trying to prove to her supervisor that she was worthy of being a name partner, it set a good example to her co-workers. If it were left up to her, she’d be at home going over an exclusive list of her best buyers.
“Touche.” Looking into his enchanting, pale green eyes, she did that lip-licking thing again. “Are you having a good time?”
“I am, this is quite a party.”
“Mr. Powell throws one every year as a way to celebrate our firm’s achievements. He really gets into this stuff.” She nodded in the direction of her boss, who was dressed like an outlaw from the wild west.
The music changed and the band played a slow song; Matthew raised his eyebrows at her.
“If you ask me if I’ve ever danced with the devil, I’ll punch you,” Nahla declared.
Matthew chuckled, taking her hand. “Fine. Will you dance with me?”
“You don’t like me, do you?” he asked.
“You’re an educated, successful man, Mr. Grant. What’s not to like?” In the middle of the crowded dance floor, they swayed to an acoustic tempo; her arms around his neck, his hands against her back.
“My pretentious, overbearing attitude?”
That made Nahla smile. She suddenly decided that it wouldn’t do any harm by being genuinely nice to him. Besides, she could hear Brian’s voice in her head: ‘This is an important account for everyone…’
“I’ll be damned, I didn’t know your mouth could actually do that,” he said, wanting to know what else that tempting mouth of hers could do. He pulled her closer until her body was cradled against his, letting out a low groan when he felt her breasts pressed against his chest.
Matthew wasn’t a bad dancer. Rocking gently with the music, Nahla’s body followed his unhurried movements. It had been a long time since she slow danced like this. She’d forgotten how much she liked being close to a man: being held, smelling his aftershave, feeling safe in his presence.
Shit, she thought. Even when he’s dressed like he’s ready to drag someone to the Underworld, he still excites me.
She tried to carry on a casual conversation, but her efforts were interrupted when, halfway through the dance, he told her that he didn’t expect her to be so desirable. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” he added.
He looked down. “Do you see what you’ve done to me?” he asked, making Nahla aware of his erection pressing against her.
She looked up. Feeling that large bulge against her tied her stomach in knots and made her nipples harden. Nahla’s job kept her busy, and that left little time for dating. She was fine with that, until the devil came along…tempting her, reawakening a passion in her that she buried for months; causing this enormous force of pleasure to spiral through her.
She didn’t want to be attracted to him, but she was. And even though it bothered her, it didn’t stop her from lusting after him. In her mind, she was bearing the solid weight of his body; feeling his warm, sweat-covered frame pressed against hers, slamming roughly against her pelvis.
The thought of him saying dirty, filthy things in the hollow of her neck as she clung to him made her want to come right then and there. “Mr. Grant, you’re a nice-looking man, I can appreciate that. But I’m not interested in you.” That was her way of trying to deny the raw chemistry between them.
“You and I both know that’s a lie.”
For the rest of the song, they danced without speaking. Her body, flush with his, raged with sexual need. She felt herself getting wet. Grateful when the music finally stopped, Nahla took a small step back. “I…um…I have to go.” She walked away from him while the crowd applauded the band. It was easier to do that than to admit that she wanted to feel the fullness of him; pushing in, and pulling slowly out of her.
After the contest, Nahla sat at a small table in the back; Matthew sat next to her. The lights went out, and the movie started. Rubbing his chin, he asked, “Do you know what you need?” He had a strong desire to nuzzle her earlobe and kiss the curve of her neck; lift her leg over his shoulder, bite the inside of her thigh. He wanted to take the broad head of his dick and massage her clit with slow circles; push deep inside her over and over, feel the tender flesh within her gripping him tightly—fuck her mindlessly and savagely until he could no longer control his desire to come.
Nahla tried to ignore him by watching the supernatural horror film on the screen ahead of her, but his deep, rough voice, along with the feeling of ecstasy, was taking over her senses and making it hard to keep her composure.
“You need someone to push your buttons.” He slid closer to her. His strong hand was on her leg, his breath incredibly warm against the rim of her ear. “To fuck you until you can’t stand it.”
Nahla crossed her arms on the table and whispered, “I’m not that desperate to close this deal, Mr. Grant.” She fidgeted, fighting hard to keep the self-control that would ultimately slip away from her.
Matthew squeezed her thigh and frowned. “Be still, Nahla.”
It wasn’t as if she could go anywhere: on one side of her was a wall; on the other side of her was the Father of Contention. She should have knocked his hand away, she should have protested. Instead, she simply nodded at his instruction.
Without warning, his fingertips walked up her thigh, hooked inside her panties and pulled them aside. When he drew his thick finger up and down the crease of her entrance, Nahla’s body responded in the only way it knew how and moved against him.
Matthew’s nostrils flared. His growing member pressed painfully against the inside of his pants, wanting—like a caged animal—to be freed. Teasing her under the table was elevated by knowing that she would enjoy this just as much as he would. “I need to be inside you,” he said, the pad of his finger lightly rubbed her clit, coaxing it from its hood. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”
Nahla’s head fell forward. Her defenses were not just down, they had ceased to exist. She felt sensuous and vulnerable at the same time; it made no sense. Biting into her lower lip, her body trembled at the table. She wanted to moan and swear, and lock her legs around his waist; taking every inch of him, feeling the hard thrust of him against her inner walls.
Matthew eased a finger just inside her, pushed a little further, past the tightness he felt and stopped. Nahla inhaled sharply and tightened around him as if to say, ‘Mine.’
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me in,” he said, grinning in the darkness. He continued to do as he pleased between her legs: working her clit by rolling the little bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling the soft folds of her lips, twisting his wrist as he stroked inside her; intent on bringing her the ultimate pleasure.
Nahla should have been ashamed at her defenselessness, but thought there was something incredibly comforting about being at his mercy.
A second finger joined the first. Nahla gasped, trying her best not to be louder than the volume of the movie. Obeying instinct, she scooted to the edge of the chair, parting her knees a little to accommodate him.
Her ass slid back and forth against the seat as she undulated against him. Her receptive flesh throbbed against his fingers and she let out a small hum, feeling her climax approach. Fuck, this feels so good. Take it.
Matthew shifted in his chair a little, scooped his hand under her leg and placed it on top of his, spreading her open a bit more. Without missing a beat, he moved deeper within her opening, then withdrew. In and out. Over and over.
Slowly, ever so slowly.
Then with one gentle flex, he was scissoring inside her warm recesses. He heard her sucking in several breaths, knowing that each pleasant stroke pulled her closer to the edge.
“You know, you may not like me,” his voice was low, just above a whisper, “but your pussy certainly does.” He pulled his digits out part way, then, taking his time, entered her again. The tight walls of her womanhood contracted, enticing sensations shot through her as he fucked the inside of her body. He was methodical, touching special places that she could never reach. Matthew didn’t need to ask her if she liked it, he knew she did.
The deliberate rhythm went on and on, causing satisfaction to flutter and erupt inside her. Nahla opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Don’t stop, is what she wanted to say, but her eyes were locked on the pumpkin sitting in the center of the table; the flickering LED flame dancing within the ghastly cut-out highlighted its eerie gaze.
The air felt warm, but it was her: hunger and need ripped through every fiber of her body. A sigh escaped her lips. She could smell her fragrant arousal as she accepted more of him.
His movements became more concentrated, more demanding. Pushing in, pressing inward and upward, massaging her G-spot, then pulling out—his fingers saturated with her juices.
Nahla’s hips matched each steady thrust of his hand. I hate you. I want you. Take it all…
Matthew fingered her for several minutes, then growled one word in her ear: “Come.”
Nahla squeezed her eyes shut. Her body tensed, her heart raced. She imagined hearing him utter that word and that guttural sound against the folds of her lips. With an emotionless stare, the jack-o’-lantern centerpiece watched the pleasure on her face as she released her desire. She barely had time to brace herself before the familiar jolt of gratification claimed her.
Wanting so badly to cry out, she tightened her jaws and pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle the noises and quick breaths that dared to leave her mouth.
Her orgasm was all-consuming—it almost hurt: so intense, yet so enjoyable. Lost in that incredible moment, she panted heavily through her nose.
When the delight of her climax finally ended, her body relaxed and her eyes slowly opened. She committed every moment of this scrumptious event to memory.
Damn him. Again.
Matthew caressed the edges of her labia long after she stopped quivering. When he slowly pulled his hand from between her legs, he smiled victoriously, sucking the reward of her wetness from his fingers, one at a time.
Brian Powell stuck his head in the door of Nahla’s office. “I just got off the phone with Matthew Grant. He said that was one amazing party and that he was ready to put up the money on the foreclosure.
“What about the projections? Doesn’t he want to look at the figures for the last ten years?”
“I asked him the same thing. He said we could send the figures by courier as a formality, but he’s ready to close the deal immediately. You must have really impressed him, Nahla.”
She felt a decadent pulse at the apex of her thighs. “I must have.” Seconds after her boss left, her assistant’s voice came on the intercom, letting her know that an important call was holding on two. She picked up the phone and pressed the blinking line. “This is Nahla.”
“Now will you have dinner with me?”
Speak of the devil…
© enchanted.ladybug 10-31-2014