Beg for It Read online

  He’d stopped paying much attention to reports on his assets about two years ago when the numbers had reached a point where they’d become ridiculous, like playing with Monopoly money. Cash could buy and sell a lot of things, but Reese wasn’t naïve enough to believe happiness was one of them. Other things—cars, houses, tailored suits, fine wines. Those could bring at least the briefest interludes of happiness. Very rarely, however, had anything brought him joy.

  Well, fuck joy. He’d given up on that a long time ago. For now it was enough to have the money he wanted to do whatever he pleased. As far as Reese was concerned, Heaven looked a lot like a long, long string of numbers in front of a decimal point.

  Once, Reese’s Heaven had been something else to him, but that had also been a long, long time ago, before he’d become the man he was now. He’d learned to be ruthless. Uncompromising. How to cut a path for himself without caring much for who stood in the way. How to get what he wanted, no matter the cost. Reese had fled Lancaster County at twenty-three, but here he was again, and the gently wafting scent of manure that had drifted through the car windows as he drove had been enough to slam him back into the past and places he’d worked hard to forget.

  Nothing he’d learned, it seemed, had taught him how not to look back.

  “Still waiting? Can I bring you something to drink awhile?” The pretty brunette with the ponytail gestured at Reese’s empty wineglass.

  “Yes. Two glasses of the Rendezvous Orchard Cabernet.”

  “Do you want me to bring it when…she…gets here?” The lilt of the question made it clear she wasn’t sure what to think about the fact Reese might very well be on his way to being stood up. Or maybe she was just surprised that anyone in this rinky-dink town had ordered from a fifty dollar bottle of wine in the middle of the afternoon.

  “No. Now. She’ll be here. She’s just running late, I’m sure.” He didn’t check his watch again.

  He’d been waiting for half an hour. It was unfathomably rude and far from professional, but he couldn’t be surprised. Everything about Stein and Sons had smacked of small-town folksy standards, including handshake contracts and keeping what Reese thought of as country time. His parents had been that way. Languid and leisurely, getting there when they got there, wherever there was. And for his parents, it had never been very far.

  She would be here. She had to be. He’d come all the way from Philadelphia. He’d had his personal assistant, Tony, confirm and reconfirm the meeting. She was going to show up.

  Corinne Barton Levy, CFO of Stein and Sons.

  Reese had been casually scrolling through one of the weekly emails he got from a service that collated information on companies ripe for buyout when he saw her name, and the past fifteen years had given him a roundhouse kick to the teeth. It would’ve be a lie to say he’d never thought of her in all that time; the truth was he’d never stopped thinking about the only woman to ever get him on his knees. Without a second thought, he’d forwarded the information to Tony with instructions on making an offer.

  He’d known he was being a prick about it. The offer wasn’t half of what Stein and Sons was worth, even if Reese acquired it only for the assets and never even tried to turn it around. He’d made the terms too harsh for the minimal buyout amount to be worth it, a virtual slap in the face, purposefully insulting. Yet they’d asked him for this meeting, which meant they were seriously considering his offer.

  What would he do if they decided to take him up on it?

  A small craft dairy company? Why the hell would he ever want to go back to where he started? He didn’t even drink milk. He hated yogurt. And lavender ice cream…well, that just seemed like it would taste like shit.

  He’d worry about that when it happened. He’d made worse deals without knowing it up front. Heading into something like this wouldn’t give him more than a day’s headache. He could pick it up and put it down in the span of a few weeks, especially if he simply liquidated everything, which, from a business standpoint, would make more sense than trying to make it successful.

  The truth was, none of this was about the company at all. It was all about her. Unless she didn’t show, Reese thought, and wouldn’t that end up being an ironic boot to the ass?

  Another five minutes ticked by before the girl brought back the glasses of wine, and Reese still sat alone at the table. He checked his phone for messages, but there were no texts, voicemails, or emails. Damn it, were they sending their cancellation by Pony Express? He stood, ready to ask for the check and walk out without waiting another minute. Screw Stein and Sons and Lancaster County. He was out of here.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” a feminine voice said, her words a rush, her tone sincere. The woman in front of him shook her head and put a hand on the back of the chair on the other side of the table. “I got stuck behind a buggy and there were a lot of looky-loos out today. I’m so sorry I’m late…”

  Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him with those big, blue eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes. She blinked rapidly, before her gaze went as sharp and focused as a finely honed knife. She straightened, all vestiges of apology disappearing and replaced by a familiar haughtiness that in the past would’ve tempted him to turn the tables and beg her pardon, but Reese stifled that urge neatly, like closing a book. He’d had years of practice, after all.

  “Hello, Corinne,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

  For a moment he was sure she was going to tell him to get bent, then stalk off. Maybe, he thought suddenly, terribly, unwillingly, maybe she’d slap his face first. He didn’t take a step back, though he wanted to.

  Corinne didn’t leave, and she didn’t slap him. To his surprise, she moved to embrace him, a second or so only, the press of her cheek on his. He breathed her in, blinking at the brief caress of her hair on his face before there was space and distance between them again. His cock was already almost fully hard.

  “Reese, my God,” she said. “How are you? What a wonderful surprise.”

  A second later she was in his arms again, like she couldn’t stop herself from hugging him, and all he wanted to do was pull her closer and never let her go. Instead, Reese took her by the upper arms and pushed her carefully but firmly a step or two away from him. It was impossible to miss the way her mouth turned down, though she smoothed her expression immediately. They stared at each other in an endless silence.

  “They told me I was meeting with a guy named Tony Randolph,” Corinne said finally.

  “He’s my assistant,” Reese told her. “But I decided to show up, myself.”

  Corinne took a seat at the table. She looked at the two glasses of wine, then him. She took her napkin from her plate and settled it on her lap.

  “I hear you have an offer for us,” she said. “I suppose we should discuss it.”

  Chapter Five

  Before

  “Sit down.”

  The woman in the dark blue uniform is no-nonsense, a little frazzled. More than a little annoyed, Reese thinks, by their boisterous group. His friends chuckle and shuffle, edging into the diner booth, but at her command, Reese immediately complies. His ass finds the chair settled at the edge of the table. His heart pounds.

  His dick leaps.

  She doesn’t even pay attention to him as she puts a handful of napkin-wrapped utensils in the center of the table, along with an equal number of menus. He’s glad for that, because that means he can look at her surreptitiously without having to pretend he’s not fascinated by her. This woman, the waitress, her name is Corinne, and she’s almost always here in the late night hours when he and his friends leave the club and end up craving breakfast. She knows them all, by sight at least, which is why it’s okay with everyone that she bosses them around like this.

  It’s especially okay with Reese, who would never admit aloud to any of the other guys that when he jacks off, it’s to the sound of this woman’s voice commanding him to stroke harder. Faster. Telling him to beg her to let him come.

  �
�Coffee?” She nudges his shoulder with the edge of her order tablet. Brows raised. “You okay?”

  Reese coughs. “Yeah, yes. Coffee. Sure, thanks.”

  Corinne’s eyes narrow for a second as she studies him. “You’ll never get to sleep if you drink coffee now.”

  He won’t sleep anyway—it’s already past three and he needs to be up at five thirty to help his dad with the cows. “That’s okay.”

  “No.” She taps her pen against her lower lip for a second. Her gaze is intense. Burning. “I don’t think so. You get tomato juice.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Juice.” She bends to whisper in his ear, but quickly and subtly.

  His friends are all so busy making noise that nobody hears her but him. Again, his dick leaps in his jeans. Reese shifts at the pressure, and Corinne looks into his lap with a knowing, secret smile that only sets him on fire even more.

  He doesn’t like tomato juice, but he drinks it anyway. The reward is another of those smiles she gives him when she comes to take away the dirty plates. And then, even better…

  “Good boy,” Corinne mouths at him as everyone else gets up, tossing crumpled and sweaty dollar bills onto the table as her tip.

  He lets everyone leave without him. Uses the bathroom, where he washes his hands and splashes cold water on his face, running wet fingers through his hair until it stands on end. His face in the mirror is pale, considering how hot his cheeks and throat still feel. His eyes are wide and have gone dark. The eyeliner is smudgy. He wipes some of it away, but not all of it. His father hates that he wears makeup to go out, but Reese thinks Corinne likes it.

  She’s waiting for him in the parking lot when he comes out, hitching his collar up around his neck.

  “You need a ride,” she says. Not a question.

  Reese nods. “Yeah, my friends, they ditched me.”

  “They didn’t ditch you. You told them to go on ahead. You wanted me to offer you a ride home again.”

  It’s his turn to smile. “You caught me.”

  Corinne laughs. Shakes her head. “Get in, then.”

  They don’t talk much on the ride. She plays the radio, low. The glow from the dash highlights the shadows under her eyes. Every so often she glances at him, and he can feel the weight of her gaze. She’s assessing him.

  Reese’s cock is so hard it actually hurts.

  Corinne doesn’t take him to her apartment, which is a disappointment. She pulls into the first few feet of the long farm lane. In the distance, he can see a light on in the farmhouse kitchen. His father. Reese’s eyes are gritty with lack of sleep, he’s coming down off the high of clubbing and he wishes desperately he’d had the coffee he’d ordered.

  She puts the car in Park.

  “You should get inside, I guess.” For a moment, Corinne peers out through the windshield, down the dark lane to the house and barn beyond. She twists a little to look at him. The fringes of her hair flutter now over her eyes. “Time to milk the cows.”

  She doesn’t sound like she’s mocking him. More like she gets it. Most people around here do. Here in the heart of Amish country, Lancaster is a city surrounded by rolling hills and lots of farms. Milton Hershey got his start here because of all the dairy farms he needed to make his chocolate, before he’d gone on to build his own town.

  “Yeah.”

  “You look tired, puppy.”

  At the endearment, a soft, low, and helpless groan trips its way past his lips. When she puts her hand on his crotch, kneading the bulge there, Reese cannot stop himself from rolling his hips into her touch. He aches. Physically aches.

  “Shhh,” Corinne whispers, though he hasn’t said anything. She leans across the center console to put her mouth next to his ear. Hot breath. The flick of her tongue on tender flesh.

  He can’t stop himself from moaning. Her hand tightens, squeezing. Almost pain. She laughs softly; the sound thrills him.

  “You wanted me to touch you,” she says against his neck.

  Reese draws in a breath. “Yes.”

  “I’ve thought about this pretty cock.” Her voice gets rough and rasping. She unzips him. Unbuttons. His cock is so rigid it springs free into her hand without effort, and at the touch of her fingers, flesh on flesh, Reese is afraid he’s going to spill all over them both. “Touching you. Tasting you.”

  “Please…” he manages to breathe.

  “Tell me how you’ve thought about it. About me.” Her fingertips stroke along the wetness leaking from his cockhead. “About what we did.”

  Reese’s entire body is clenching and tense, but he focuses on her voice. Then on her face. He doesn’t dare look down at her hand squeezing him just beneath the head of his prick. He’ll come for sure.

  “I think about it all the time. You riding my face. How you tasted and smelled. How much I loved your pussy on my mouth.”

  Corinne’s breath hitches. “Oh. Fuck. That, yes. That was good.”

  “I want to make you come again, that way. Let me.” It’s not quite a plea, not really begging, but he sees by the flash in her gaze that she likes the way he asked.

  “You’re already late,” she tells him. “You don’t want your dad to get angry.”

  His father will probably already be angry. There isn’t much Reese can do about it. They’ve been clashing for years, and it seems like nothing Reese does anymore will make the old man happy. He’s given up trying.

  When Corinne withdraws, Reese lets out a gasping plea, snagging her wrist to keep her hand on him. Immediately, her expression turns cold and dark, a fire extinguished. She says nothing, merely looks at the circling grip of his fingers, but he releases her at once.

  “Sorry. I just wanted—”

  “You want what you want,” she answers sharply.

  Reese frowns. His balls ache, but so does his head. There is a weight behind his eyes that will only get worse the longer he goes without sleep or the nudge of caffeine.

  “Everyone does,” he snaps.

  Quicker than a blink, his jaw is in her fist.

  “You,” Corinne says, squeezing and releasing him, “don’t talk to me that way. Behave yourself.”

  And though he is horny and annoyed and exhausted, all Reese can think of is pleasing her. Not just so she’ll get him off, though he can’t stop himself from wanting that release. No, he wants to please her for reasons he can’t fully understand, has never tried to decipher, and generally tries to pretend he doesn’t feel.

  “I’m sorry,” he says and adds, softer, “Ma’am.”

  Her smile tips up a bit on one side. “I like way that sounds on your tongue.”

  “I like the way it tastes,” Reese whispers.

  Heat flares again in her gaze. She gestures for him to move toward her. To kiss her. Her hands thread through his hair. Her mouth is open. Sighing, moaning, shivering. She nips his lower lip and pushes him away, turning her face when he tries again to get at her mouth.

  “Go, now,” she tells him. “I’m not going to fuck you in a car on the side of the road.”

  Disappointed, he sits back. The sky is getting pink. There are lights on in the barn. He’s really late.

  “No,” Corinne continues thoughtfully, drawing his attention back to her. “Next time, I’m going to fuck you in a nice, soft bed.”

  With a strangled groan, Reese lets his head fall back against the seat. “You’re killing me.”

  “Yes,” she says, “but softly.”

  He turns only his head to look at her. “Will you let me take you out?”

  “On a real date?” She looks faintly surprised.

  “Yes. Of course, on a real date.” He’s annoyed again, not sure why.

  Corinne lets her tongue dent her lower lip for a moment before she answers. “Yes. Dinner. A movie. The works.”

  “The works,” Reese agrees. A yawn fights its way out of him. He rubs his eyes. His cock is not much softer, but he’s trying to will away his erection at least enough so that he can get out of
the car. “I really needed that coffee.”

  For a second he thinks she’s going to turn stern again. Part of him hopes she does. He can’t get enough of it.

  But Corinne smiles and shakes her head. “No, puppy. What do you do after you help your dad in the morning?”

  “Go back to sleep until it’s time for the afternoon milking.”

  “Right. And so you’re sleepy now, but you’ll be back in bed in what. An hour?”

  “Less than that,” he admitted with a glance at the sky. “He’ll have done a lot of it already.”

  “And if you’d had coffee, you wouldn’t be able to sleep. You’d be up all day, running on empty.”

  It’s the truth, and he knows it.

  “I don’t like tomato juice,” he says. “Tastes like pennies.”

  Corinne smiles. “Fair enough. I’ll remember that.”

  He leans across the center console to kiss her once more, taking a chance that she won’t chastise him again. The kiss is sweet and lingering. When he tries to draw away, she holds him by the collar for a moment, staring deep into his eyes.

  “Good boy,” she says.

  And Reese is lost to her.

  Chapter Six

  He’d ordered her a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Her favorite. After all these years, and he still remembered. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but try as she might to pretend it didn’t, all she had to do was sip from her glass to be reminded of how once upon a time, Reese Ebersole had been hers, completely and utterly.

  He’d ordered the meal for her as well, and she ought to have been annoyed but found herself amused, instead. Charmed, a little. He got it mostly right. She’d have preferred grilled chicken instead of shrimp, though he couldn’t have known she’d started keeping modified kosher after she got married. He had chosen the right dressing for her salad and exactly the appetizer she’d have picked for herself, though.