Page 37 of Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy 1)
Each man raises a glass, and we clink the rims together.
“Sláinte,” I say as a burst of vibration unleashes between my legs, and I nearly drop my drink.
The men tip back their whiskey, not noticing that I’m struggling to lift mine to my lips because of the waves of pleasure tearing through me.
I chug the drink, needing it now more than ever, and shift in my chair, praying this is going to stop as quickly as the last one.
The assistant GM leans forward, his eyes not on mine, but on the deep V cut of my blouse.
“So, Keira. I understand you’ve been doing a bang-up job with the distillery since you took the helm from your dad.”
I’m too distracted by the vibrations between my legs to decide if he’s giving me a compliment or mocking me.
“The last few months have been a little trying, but like my ancestors, I push forward.” I have no idea where that response comes from, and force my lips to curve into a smile as an orgasm builds in my core. “Tenacity and the Irish go hand in . . . hand.” I struggle to get the last word out.
I’m in serious danger of coming when the vibrations suddenly stop. I don’t know if I want to kill the man with the remote or kiss him for not making me embarrass myself in public.
Kiss him? Are you freaking insane, Keira?
The pleasure recedes as quickly as it started.
Never. I’ll be like freaking Julia Roberts before she stupidly fell for Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. No kissing on the mouth. Ever. I’m making it a rule.
“Tenacious, indeed. Must go along with that red hair of yours. Do you have the temper to match?”
Again, the assistant GM’s eyes are on my cleavage, and I can’t help but look down in response.
Oh. Fuck.
My nipples, in the sheer bra Mount picked, are on high beams. They clearly haven’t gotten the memo that there’s no longer an orgasm coming.
I return my glass to the table harder than necessary, and the thwack of glass against metal causes his eyes to jerk up to my face.
“I don’t have a temper. That’s a redhead myth.” I smile as I lie, something I’m entirely too good at today for comfort. “Now, let’s discuss the amazing package we’ve put together for you.”
Thankfully, Temperance takes this as her cue to jump in. “As you’ve requested and we briefly discussed, we’ve come up with a perfect solution to any PR issues with our valet parking—”
“I still think you’re insane if you think these guys will take it well when you won’t hand their keys back at the end of the night,” the PR director says, interrupting her.
The event coordinator looks at him. “You deal with the bullshit these assholes pull more than anyone, and I agree with you.”
All three men look across the table, their gazes shifting between Temperance and me, and she takes the lead. “We’ll spin it as a complimentary black-car service. They can have as much fun as they want. Indulge and then be delivered home without a single worry.”
The GM huffs. “Maybe if you put a hooker in each car, then you’d tempt some of them.”
The vibrator springs to life again, but this time only for an instant. Long enough for my nipples to have zero hope of disappearing from view through my blouse.
I grip the edge of the table, and words I never intended to say spring from my lips. “If that’s what it takes . . .”
All three men zero in on my face. A smug smile drifts over the assistant GM’s lips, and the toy comes to life again.
I’m going to kill Mount.
“You are a sassy redhead. I like it. The team, of course, couldn’t condone such a practice or pay for it, but damned if it wouldn’t be a hell of an idea.”
The vibrations don’t quit, which means I have to brazen this out. “I’m joking, gentlemen. Of course, we couldn’t have anything to do with something like that. We might be in the business of sin, but not that kind.”
Carlie chooses that perfect moment to serve the appetizers, and another server, Dena, holds the second flight of whiskey.
