PAWN: Prologue

Pawn (Volume 1)  Coming January 27

Pawn on GOODREADS

Request an ARC

Prologue

Graham

30-November

If I’d known the focal point of my night would be a waitress with her greedy hands down my pants, and her warm breath fanni
ng my ear as she whispers a laundry list of things she’s willing to let me do to her body, I would’ve stayed the fuck in my office.

Yet here I am. In a small storage room because I didn’t want to create a scene when she’d pulled me in behind her. With what’s supposed to be a seductive grip on my cock.

“You can put it anywhere. Everywhere. Just like the first time, Graham,” she says invitingly, the way she purrs my name—Graaaaaaaam—instantly grating what little patience I have left. Pulling her hands out of my pants, she leans against a stack of liquor boxes, spreading her legs as far as the shorts she pulled around her knees will allow. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the night we messed around.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m also not going to fuck you. That’s what it’s called, just so you know. Fucking, not messing around. Now, pull your panties back up,” I drawl. The point flies right over her head. She wriggles her curvy body up against mine, covering me with the overwhelming scent of perfume she’s bathed in.

I stiffen, but sadly, my cock doesn’t.

“Come on, baby.” She grabs my hands, planting them on her bare ass cheeks and poking her bottom lip out when I don’t give them the attention she’s desperate for. “We can do anything you want,” she reminds me, emphasizing every word like she’s offering me a goddamn precious gem.

She’s not, and I have no interest.

Women like the one grinding against me—they’re dangerous.

Liabilities.

I can’t afford dangerous liabilities, no matter how wet and willing they are.

Grabbing her shoulders, I shake my head. Her pout doesn’t sway me. In fact, it makes the decision to say no easy as hell. “I’ll pass, but give my regards to your pussy.”

She’s still out of breath and giving me bedroom eyes when she murmurs, “Do you want to, I don’t know, meet up after my shift or something?”

I sigh. Nothing should be this difficult. “I wasn’t requesting a rain check on your cunt. I was giving it a firm no.”

She stumbles away from me, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “I swear you’re a giant . . . you’re a pussy tease.” Looking proud of the insult, she turns her back to me to adjust her clothing. She bends slightly and pulls up the shiny blue scrap of material she calls shorts, jiggling her ass to show me what I’m missing. “I hate you.”

But as much as I don’t want to see that ass go—hey, I’m a realist, not a fucking monk—I’ll take her self-proclaimed hatred of me and move on with my night.

“Did you hear me?” she demands, her voice hysterically louder. And this is why she’s dangerous. No self-control. I’m fine with not getting my balls wet in exchange for avoiding the crazy calls, texts, and eventual claims of pregnancy that are bound to be on the menu for this one. “You. Are. A. Tease.”

This was a new one. In thirty-three years, I’ve been called everything from misunderstood to cold to powerful to depraved, but this is the first time a woman has ever labeled me a tease.

“You and I agreed you were a one-time thing,” I counter, careful not to say we. It implies that she and I are more—again, dangerous. She whirls around to glare at me, her expertly painted face the same vivid shade as her hair. Approaching her slowly, I smirk when she shivers and backs herself against a shelf of paper towels. Wide-eyed and swallowing hard, she looks almost innocent, almost perfect. Moldable. But then her attempt at a seductive smile ruins that for me. “Besides, there’s no part of you that hates me.”

To demonstrate, I squeeze my hand between her thighs, moving my palm back and forth across her clit until she sags against me. “I can’t. This is my job, Graham,” she pants.

I snort. The fact she suddenly gives a shit about where we are, what we’re doing, only makes me want her to come harder. Send her back to her job with wet panties and no promise of an encore. “A minute ago, you were bent over cases of vodka begging for my dick in your ass. You care about your job as much as I do.”

She mutters some garbled nonsense, tilts her head back, and squeezes her eyes together. Straining her tits against my chest, she bites her tongue and releases noises that would make even a porn star envious as she claws at the lapels of my jacket. “See how good we could be?” she whispers huskily.

I laugh. “If good is getting off in the middle of ketchup and vodka bottles through a pair of cheap shorts? Personally, I’m looking for a little more of . . . anything else.”

Her eyes fly open. She shoves her hands to my chest, but I don’t budge.

“Don’t look so shocked.”

“You’re an asshole. Tell me, Graham, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” she demands, grabbing a roll of the paper towels from behind her. Ripping off several sheets, she shoves the wad down her shorts, her face reddening when she catches me watching. “Since this is the second time you’ve come with me back here, and—”

“You pulled me in here tonight. And there’s a reason why I fucked you here the first—and only—time,” I interrupt, livid at myself because that encounter had been a mistake. I took pride in being careful, but even the most careful were subject to a lapse in judgment. “That reason is discretion. I needed you in your element to keep your mouth shut.”

She seethes. “I see. Let me guess, a waitress isn’t good enough for you, Senator Delaney? Doesn’t meet your rich boy requirements? Isn’t discreet enough for your pervy bullshit? Do you even know my name?”

“No, nothing against waitresses, just you.” I make it a few steps toward the storeroom door before I feel the roll of paper towels slam into my back. I don’t turn around. “You don’t really think that hurt me, do you?” I question coldly and hear her suck in a deep breath. “Make sure you clean up the spot on your thigh, Jana.”

As I slip back out into the restaurant, she hisses, “I would never have voted for you.”

Does she think I care? Finally grinning over my shoulder, I lift a shoulder in disinterest. “Next time I’m up for election, I’m counting on you to move to New York just to vote against me,” I say, to which she hurls another string of shushed insults at my back. By the time I reach my table, I’ve pushed all thoughts of Jana and her incredi-ass to the furthest corner of my mind. While I was gone my accountant had re-ordered drinks, and I down my bourbon slowly. 

“Did you get lost in the pisser?” Daniel jokes, and I regard him with a noncommittal head movement. It’s better than telling him to piss off simply for being the financial Grim Reaper. Opening a spreadsheet on his phone, he laughs. “I thought you’d run off on me. Guess looking at all these numbers is overwhelming.”

“Not at all. Ran into an aide I worked with a couple years ago.” I see Jana leave the storage closet, a flash of red, white, and blue as she bounces over to a table where three women sit. I begin to focus on Daniel, but something at that table stops me.

It’s like a fucking game of which one of these things is not like the other.

Parked between two cute blondes is a young brunette, and I swear I can sense the stick in her ass from all the way across the room. She’s perfectly coifed and aloofly beautiful in that old Hollywood glamour kind of way—creamy skin, pink heart-shaped lips, and the kind of curves made for my hands. Her eyes dart from waitress to waitress, taking in the sight of their lack of attire. I expect to see her wrinkle her upturned nose at them, but she surprises me.

The look on her face is defeated.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and smooths down the loose black waves framing her delicately boned face and resting against a pair of tits that even I find impressive. If she’s trying to hide them under her lame excuse for a dress, she’s doing a bad job.

When she fidgets with her pearls, I realize another reason why she made me do a triple take.

I. Know. Her.

No, I’ve seen her, know of her, because I sure as hell know her dick father.

She isn’t drinking, isn’t eating, and from the look of things, not talking to the blondes sitting with her. So why is Eleanor Courtney at 202 on a Friday night?

“Are you ready to go over these figures, Senator Delaney?” Daniel’s voice nudges into my thoughts, temporarily bringing my attention away from the woman who has inadvertently captured it.

My lips thin in an impatient smile. “First, food. You have a little time before you ask me to bend over, don’t you?” I ask, and Daniel stammers a response he thinks will make me happy before excusing himself to the restroom. With him gone, I flag down a waitress. She greets me with a seductive pose and a shimmery pout. I ignore both, ordering the first thing on the appetizer menu before casually inquiring about the table across the room.

“Oh, they’re here for an interview with Chad. I swear he’s like the only guy I’ve ever worked for who interviews during dinner rush.” She grips her serving tray closer to her chest and winks. “Be back with your order in a few, okay?”

I think hard on this new information until Daniel returns. If Eleanor is here for a job interview, things must be crumbling in the Courtney household. So badly Senator Courtney’s precious is ready to slide into some little ass shorts and prance around for tips. I’m as giddy as a kid on Christmas when she rises to her feet, brushes that shapeless wool monstrosity over her body, and turns facing my direction.

As expected, her walk is elegant, refined as she follows Jana toward the back of the restaurant where I’m seated. What I don’t expect is the reaction my cock has to her. It’s a feeling Jana had failed to inspire, and I need to know more. Need to feel more. I need to meet her. The closer she gets the more I can already picture her on her knees, her mouth wrapped around my cock, her legs spread wide for me—that uptight elegance shattered as she begs me to fuck her speechless.

And I’m not getting ahead of myself because I know this will happen. It was settled the moment I laid eyes on her.

Jana passes me by, jutting her breasts out to show me what I’ve turned down, but I tune her out when Eleanor Courtney’s eyes lock with mine.

This shitter of a night just took a turn for the best.

She’s perfect.

And if there’s anything to bring Robert Courtney down a notch, I’m staring right at it.

My ace in the hole.

The perfect pawn.