International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Read online

  “Jesus, honey. You’re so hard you could drive nails into the wall with that thing.”

  I turn the phone to look at her once more. She’s cupping her breasts with both hands, her thumbs swiping back and forth along the tight nipples, which I’d like to wrap my lips around and tug with my teeth.

  “Pinch them hard, baby. Enough to hurt a little, like I would if I were there. See if you can make yourself come from just playing with your tits, imagining it’s me doing the playing.”

  She moans and closes her eyes but continues to do what I’ve asked. “Are you stroking yourself?”

  “Fuck yeah. Watching you touch yourself . . . God, I wish I were there. I’d suck each tip so hard, baby. Until it burned and you cried out for more!”

  She drops her head back, her hair falling down behind her. God, I love that look the best. When she’s succumbing to the moment, to her passion. My mouth waters at the sight of her tugging at her pretty flesh.

  “That’s it, tweak those little tips for me. Do you like plucking your pretty titties while I watch and jack my dick? Hmm?” I arch my hips into my hand, imagining I’m sinking my cock into her wet heat . . . no, between those soft-as-fuck breasts.

  A shiver of excitement ripples up my spine, and I arch into the pleasurable sensation. “You know what I’d do if I were there right now?” I continue.

  She shakes her head. “Tell me . . .” It comes out as a whimper.

  Her nipples and areolae are dark, a deep crimson. “I’d lay you down on the kitchen floor . . .”

  “Yeah,” she moans, her lips falling open as she gasps for air. The sound ping-pongs through my chest, making me feel alive, warm, my body tightening, knowing what those little puffs of air and moans mean.

  My balls ache, feeling full and heavy, ready to blow. I grind my teeth, and a fine sheen of sweat mists along my hairline, torso, and abdomen as I stave off my pending orgasm for a little bit longer.

  “I’d straddle your chest, wedge my hard fat cock between those perfect tits . . .”

  “Oh my God, Parker . . .” She gasps and licks her lips, fingers still moving over her breasts in a whirl of motion.

  “And I’d press those babies together tight around my dick. Then I’d fuck your tits, allowing the wetness at my tip to graze your lips, and you could suck the head.” The visual alone causes tremors to erupt all through my body. “Jesus! You make me so hard . . .” I moan and thrust faster into my firm grip.

  “Parker . . . ,” Skyler croons, and rapid gasps leave her mouth as her body jerks.

  Watching her go off from hearing my voice and playing with her breasts sends me over the edge. I cup my balls and thrust up into my hand one, two, three times until I’m gone. Shooting straight into bliss. “Sky . . . baby!” I cry out as my release coats my hand and abs in a sticky mess.

  Both of us spend a minute or two coming back to ourselves, our breathing labored as if we’ve been running and are now trying to catch our breath.

  When I open my eyes, Skyler is leaning on the counter, her head down, hair falling in waves around her face. “Wow. Remind me to FaceTime you more often.” She smirks. Her cheeks are a lovely pink, and the rest of her has a healthy glow I love seeing on her skin.

  “That will not be a problem.” I laugh and stretch the rest of my body, letting the pleasure twist around every ounce of my being for a few more blessed moments.

  “I wish you were here,” she admits before I can say the same damn thing. She swallows and dips down behind the counter, I assume to grab her tank. “How long do you think you’ll be in San Francisco?”

  I sigh, letting all the air out of my lungs before sucking in another weighted breath. “Not sure. Depends on how quickly we can set up the client with a pool of prospective men we’ve vetted.”

  “Assuming Royce is not leading the pack.” She grins and tugs on her tank, her beautiful body covered once more.

  I pout at the missing visual and at the comment. “Not funny, Peaches.”

  She tips her head. “I don’t know. I found it kind of funny, pretty boy!”

  “Well, as much as I’d like to talk to you all night . . . I’ve got quite the mess to take care of here.”

  Her eyes heat up with a renewed lust. “If you were here, I’d take care of that for you. Actually, you wouldn’t have had a mess at all. Think about that and see how long it takes you to make it home.” She winks at me, picks up her sandwich, and takes a bite, chewing while gloating.

  “You are bad.”

  “You like bad. As a matter of fact, I believe you said you were falling for bad.” She gifts me a smug smile.

  “I am. Get some rest, eh?”

  “Okay, honey. You too. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Dream of me.” And then she blows me a peanut butter kiss before ending the call.

  I shake my head and get up to head to the bathroom.

  Dream of her.

  With a body like hers, a face angels would sing to, and she comes like a goddess . . . it’s safe to say Skyler is always in my dreams.

  3

  “Ms. Renner, good morning.” I hold out my hand to our client.

  She barely nods at me while shaking my hand before taking both of Royce’s between hers. “And good morning to you, handsome.” Rochelle smiles at Royce.

  He grins wide, looks her up and down, and pours on the charm with a “You’re looking lovely this morning, Chellie.”

  I nudge his shoulder . . . hard.

  He clears his throat, and the smile slides off his face. “I mean, Ms. Renner.”

  Her lips quirk, and she murmurs an “Mm-hmm” as she walks around her desk and sits in her chair.

  Both Royce and I take a seat across from her.

  “I’ve cleared the morning for the two of you so we can get right to business, or should I say play?” She leans back in her chair, the red of her silk blouse popping against the supple-looking leather. Her hair is flat ironed into a sleek, glossy sheet, parted down the center, leaving the longer lengths to fall prettily over her shoulders. There is no denying Rochelle Renner is a stunning woman.

  Royce removes the first set of folders we have to show her. He stands, moves around the desk to her side, and lays one of them out and hands me my copy.

  “First and foremost, we connected with the biggest online dating/relationship site, I-Bliss. For a fee, we were able to work with them to secure their top ten suggestions for men who fit the criteria we set. We have since contacted all of them, and eight are interested.”

  Instead of keeping her distance, Rochelle places her hand on Roy’s forearm and cocks one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Is that so? Eight?”

  “Indeed, it is. You’re a very desirable woman.” Royce’s voice flows into a deep rumble that sounds like Barry White reincarnated. I want to lash out, but instead I dig deep and keep my shit in check, trying to remember that Royce is his own man, and as Sky recommended, he can make his own choices.

  I do, however, jump into the fray before things get more complicated. “Ms. Renner, aside from the eight prospects we’ve secured, we have also contacted our long-standing matchmaker. She has reviewed your criteria and was able to locate five additional prospects.”

  “Thirteen . . .” She sucks in air between her teeth. “An unlucky number—” She starts to interject her thoughts, but we’re interrupted by the door flying open.

  “Chelle, I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is too important to wait!” A tall, built black man in a bespoke suit enters. He’s wearing thick black-framed glasses, the kind Superman wears when he’s disguised as Clark Kent. The overall impression is marred by the heavy frown he’s sporting. He has close-cropped black hair, shaved at the sides, giving him a Tyson Beckford appeal. Unlike Royce, whose skin is a darker ebony, this man’s skin tone is lighter by quite a few degrees. More of a milk chocolate to Royce’s dark. Rochelle is right in the middle.

  Her gaze tracks the man across the room until he’s standin
g before her. “Gentlemen, this is Keehan Williams, head of information technology and analytics and overall Mr. Universe. Best man I know.”

  Keehan stops in his tracks for a second and smiles at Rochelle. The smile seems far more personal, as if the two of them share some type of secret code.

  “Keehan, this is Royce Sterling and Parker Ellis of International Guy.”

  Keehan’s eyes flash from the tablet he’s holding to the two of us, his mouth tightening at the corners. “You went through with it, then?”

  She grins, completely ignoring the clip in his tone. “I told you I would.”

  His shoulders rise with what I can sense is irritation. “It was supposed to be a joke, Chelle. Lord Almighty. What have you gotten yourself into?” He rubs a hand over his short hair as an unease settles in the air around the room.

  Her gaze narrows on him, Royce and I disappearing from the space as they hash it out. “What do you mean? I told you I needed a man in my life.”

  Keehan winces when she says man in my life, which to me is beyond telling. This dude is hung up on his boss. Big-time. Huge.

  “Kee, I’m tired of spending my evenings alone. Holidays . . .”

  He visibly bristles. “With me?” he blurts, offense coating his tone.

  Her gaze softens, and she lays a hand over his wrist, petting the top of his hand with her thumb. “You know I enjoy our time together, but a woman has needs, Keehan. How the hell you go about your celibate lifestyle is beyond me.” She shakes her head and laughs before sitting back in her chair, putting distance between herself and the man who’s 100 percent focused on her. A herd of galloping broncos could ram through the wall, and he’d have eyes only for her.

  I glance at Royce to see if he’s catching what I’m seeing. His jaw is hard, his lips tightly pressed together into a flat line.

  He sees it. And he doesn’t like it.

  I bite back the laughter wanting to spew out of me and follow Keehan’s hand gestures and body language while he communicates with his boss. His very attractive boss. One he seems to know on a rather personal if not intimate level.

  Keehan lays the tablet in front of her. “While you’ve been planning to become a happy homemaker—”

  Rochelle bursts out laughing. “Homemaker? As if. You’re funny, Keehan. I may want a kid one day, but I will not be doing the child-rearing full time. Man, Kee, you always make me laugh.”

  Oh snap! She’s basically just confirmed everything I’m thinking about how wrong she is for Roy. If we were back in Boston and I were behind my desk, I’d stand up and take a long bow.

  “And you have such a beautiful one,” he says with a smile, reaching out a hand to touch a lock of her hair. “Like your hair straight, Chelle. It’s silky smooth.”

  She beams at him.

  Holy smokes! It’s like they’re experiencing foreplay right in front of us, but neither of them realizes there’s an audience. And one of them has no idea it’s foreplay.

  Royce finally glances over to me, his brows furrowed. He lifts a thumb toward the desk and mouths, “This guy?”

  I nod and grin wide. He can finally see that Rochelle doesn’t plan on falling in love with a man, because she’s already carrying on an intimate relationship with Keehan. Hell, she may be in love with him and not even know it.

  The memory of me telling Skyler I was falling for her flutters through my mind. My heart squeezes, and I swallow against the dryness in my throat. Am I in love with Skyler, but haven’t admitted it to myself? The wild thought has me gripping the arms of the chair, digging my nails in. I take a few deep breaths and do my damnedest to focus on the craziness playing out in front of me instead of the potential revelation I just had about my own life.

  “You’re too good to me, Kee.” She pats his hand affectionately, and the truth smacks me in the face. Rochelle doesn’t need a man at home; she already has one at work. Her two loves in one place. Work and Keehan. Although from the body language, it seems Rochelle hasn’t crossed the barrier from boss to girlfriend. Unlike me, she seems to have a different version of professional etiquette I somehow missed in my training at Harvard.

  I cough, rather unsubtly breaking through their intimate chatter.

  Keehan blinks slowly and turns his head in our direction, almost as if he’s just remembered there are two strange men sitting in front of his boss’s desk. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Keehan Williams.” He holds out his hand to me and then Royce. We both take him up on his offer and shake his hand.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this simply could not wait. Chelle, look at these numbers here from last quarter.” He points down at information I can’t see from here and then swipes left. “Then here, the quarter before.” Swipes left again. “And the one before that.”

  “They’re dropping, which happens when interest goes up and down. You know this.” Her gaze runs over the information in front of her.

  Keehan shakes his head. “You see, that’s the thing. These stocks have gone up in the past two years, and the interest rates are fixed. The quarterly figures should be steadily going up, not incrementally going down.”

  Royce stands up and walks around the desk. “May I? I’m a numbers man myself.”

  Keehan looks Royce up and down and clenches his teeth. “I’ll bet you are. Just her type too,” he says under his breath while moving off to the side so Roy can take a gander at the work.

  Dang, if I didn’t sense a threat before, I absolutely can now. Keehan is not pleased with the fact that we’re here or the fact that she’s looking for a man. To me, it’s plain as day from one meeting that he wants to be the man in Rochelle’s life.

  Royce scans the information on the tablet. “And the profit-and-loss statements?”

  “At least five here. Just click on each tab,” Keehan mumbles.

  Royce and Rochelle scan the documents.

  “Hoo-boy, this is not good.” Royce rubs at his chin. A move he does when he’s uncomfortable with a piece of information.

  “You can say that again.” Rochelle crosses her arms defensively and inhales loudly. Frustration oozes from her pores as she silently takes in whatever unsettling information is in front of her.

  I, unfortunately, or rather fortunately, am not a numbers man. I can get by with standard profit-and-loss checks and balances and generic accounts payable stuff, but nothing deep in the nitty-gritty. It’s the reason why Royce manages IG’s money as well as Bo’s and my personal investments. He’s made all of us very rich men by using his Midas touch when it pertains to the stock market. He’s a genius at knowing where and what to buy and when to sell.

  “Then, it’s what I think it is?” Keehan directs his question at Rochelle.

  Her voice is laced with a tinge of anger when she responds. “If you think someone is stealing from me, then yes, it’s what you think.”

  I cringe but stay silent. This is not my territory. In sensitive situations such as this, it’s best if I keep my opinions to myself and let the experts figure out the proper course of action. My job in San Francisco is to find a suitable mate for our client. And watching Keehan offer his support and undivided attention to Rochelle has proven my job is going to be far easier now that my top candidate has unintentionally jumped into the pool of prospects. While they worry about an embezzler in the firm, I’m quietly planning how I’m going to work this scenario to the best advantage.

  “Finding the culprit will be interesting.” Rochelle bites her bottom lip and taps at her chin, seemingly lost in thought. “At least forty of my staff have access to those accounts.”

  Royce starts to pace as Keehan walks around the desk and places his hand on Rochelle’s shoulder, a show of support if I ever saw one. She pats his hand and looks up at him with a somber smile. “Thank you for looking out for me, as usual.”

  “It’s my job in more ways than one, Chelle. We’ve been in this together since the beginning.” He says it loud enough for the entire room to hear his meaning.

  La
y off my girl, big, bad Royce.

  I smile, enjoying the pissing match. “You’ve worked for Rochelle a long time?” I inquire.

  Keehan nods, then squeezes Rochelle’s shoulder. “Since the very first day she opened the doors of Renner Financial Services.”

  Rochelle nods and grabs Keehan’s hand. “He’s my rock. I couldn’t do what I do without him.”

  I smirk. Maybe this will be a walk in the park.

  While Rochelle and Royce put their heads together, requesting documents, reports, and a variety of other things, I follow Keehan out the door.

  “Um, can I help you with something?” he asks.

  I shrug but match his stride, even though I’m a couple of inches shorter. “Figure while they’re busy, I could tag along with you, get to know more about your boss.”

  He frowns.

  “You two seem close.” I let the statement hang out there in the wind and hope he picks it up.

  “We are. She’s an amazing woman.” His words carry a sense of awe and devotion one wouldn’t usually hear from a mere employee.

  “Gathered that in one meeting. Not to mention her business profile is superb.”

  He nods. “She’s the best in her field.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?” He nudges his glasses higher on his nose.

  “What’s your take on your career? Your position with RFS?”

  He frowns but keeps up his pace. We steadily move past employees busily working in their offices. It appears the entire place is set up with nothing but offices and meeting rooms. No cubicles, which I imagine is ideal for people working with confidential information such as a person’s or business’s money.

  “My position is solid. Like I said before, Chelle and I have been together since the very beginning. We’ve been through a lot. People may come and go, but one thing is always the same.”

  I grin. “And that would be?”

  “Me.” He smiles. “I’m here for the long haul.”

  “What about settling down? You’re hitting the age most guys find a woman, have a coupla kids. The whole nine.”