He tugs me along behind him as he sets off across the hotel ballroom. I just follow, trailing along behind him, with my clutch under my arm. No protest from me at all – more out of surprise than anything. I don’t exactly get led around by men like this. Especially hot, powerful men. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I like the feeling of him gripping my arm and leading me. In fact, as turned on as I am at this moment – and as much champagne as I’ve already had, combined with how hot he is – he could probably take me just about anywhere.
But he doesn’t take me to the elevators, or a hotel room, or anything like that. He takes me up a stairwell to the mezzanine above.Then he leads me into a little alcove that seems to not go anywhere, a dead end……but he pushes three distinct places on the wall, and suddenly a door opens up out of nowhere. No handles, no visible lines in the wall at all.It’s a full-on secret passageway.We walk out onto a little colonnade, a ten-foot-long balcony with a lot of pillars that shield us from prying eyes. We’re four stories above street level, so there’s not a lot of prying eyes anyway, but it’s pretty badass.Add to that the fact that the entire wall behind us is glass. Dark glass. People from the charity ball are walking past, oblivious to our presence. A woman stops and checks her lipstick just feet away from us, and never acts like she sees us.I realize that the other side of the glass is one of those ceiling-high, twenty-foot-long mirrors.We can see everybody inside the hotel, but they can’t see us.“How did you know this was here?” I marvel.“Because I put it there.”“Riiiight,” I scoff. “So you’re the architect?”He grins. “I am.”“But this is a Grant Carlson ohhhh shit,” I say, putting my hand to my mouth as my eyes bug out.Let me explain.Grant Carlson is the hottest architect on the scene today. Think Frank Gehry levels of acclaim. Actually, no, think more like Frank Lloyd Wright.Except that Grant Carlson is apparently a hot, late-20’s piece of man candy.I didn’t know. I’d heard his name before on NPR and what have you. The Modern Museum of Art is moving half its collection to the new location designed by Grant Carlson. The Spanish Government just commissioned Grant Carlson for a new national museum in Barcelona. Grant Carlson just unveiled designs for the new Wall Street stock exchange building.But I didn’t know what he looks like. Come on – how many of you know what Frank Gehry looks like? Or Frank Lloyd Wright, for that matter?Grant Carlson’s work stood in for him. Giant, towering buildings that combined both stately beauty and playful whimsy. Steel, glass, marble, granite – those were the things he wanted displayed to the world. Not his photograph.After seeing him, I kind of understand. One look at him, and most women would never care about his buildings.One other interesting fact about Grant Carlson: he’s a billionaire.He’s not only the most celebrated architect alive, he’s part owner of a multi-national construction business started by his family. His buildings are so unbelievable because he controls every facet of their construction, from the blueprints all the way to the molding in the individual rooms.And he never, ever compromises. Quality above all else.Well, except for in person. Then I guess it’s hotness above all else.I stand there, suddenly feeling very shy and very vulnerable.He looks down at me and grins. “So I guess you’ve heard of me.”I nod. I can’t speak.“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he sighs. “Everybody always clams up.”“Well, if you spring it on them like that, I can understand why.”“You’re holding your own pretty well,” he says, and moves closer. Close enough that I can feel the warmth from his body against the cool night air.Oh my god oh my god oh my godI don’t feel like I’m holding my own at all. But I’m not about to admit that.“So you put this here?” I ask, trying to get the attention off me and back onto something, anything else. “This secret passageway?”“This is just one of a dozen in this particular building.”“Really?”“I put them in every single work I do, from houses to skyscrapers.”“Why?”“Because I can.” He grins. “I was fascinated with secret passageways from the time I was a kid. I went to this place called the Winchester House when I was five. You ever heard of it?”I shake my head. “No.”“It’s this Victorian mansion in San Jose, built by this eccentric old woman who was sure ghosts were trying to kill her. So she added onto the house over the years, with tons of secret rooms and stairways that went nowhere, all to confuse and trap the ghosts. It’s my favorite place in the world. That was the moment I knew I wanted to be an architect. I didn’t even know the word for it when I was five – but I wanted to build houses with secret passages. And now that’s what I do.”I laugh. “That’s really cool.”“Plus, secret passageways have the added benefit of moments like this,” he says, as he smiles and stares into my eyes.My internal heat level is rising fast. His eyes… they’re liquid brown. Piercing… sexy…I’m getting too turned on.I’m a little afraid of what might happen.Even though I want it to happen.My heart is beating so fast…“I… I think we should go back inside…”“You think we should go back inside?” he repeats softly, as he leans in towards me, his face only inches away from mine.He’s so tall, I have to raise my head to look at him. Which is the perfect position for kissing…And he’s so close. I can feel the heat from his face… or maybe that’s the heat from mine, because I know I’m blushing again.“…y-yes… we should go inside…”“Okay,” he whispers, just before he moves in all the way and kisses me.Oh God.His lips are so warm against mine.The kiss starts off soft and sensual. Mouths pressed together… lips slowly caressing… his tongue touching my lips, and I open wide to take him in.His arms encircle my waist and pull me to him. I’m pressing against him, my soft curves against his muscles. Even under the designer tux, I can feel his rock-hard body.I can feel something else, too.Something thick and long, getting thicker and longer.The kiss starts off soft and sensual, but it rapidly becomes something else. Harder… more insistent.I don’t even notice. I’m caught up in the moment, thinking of nothing but how much I want his hands all over me…And then they are. Caressing the exposed skin on my back… drifting down my bare arms…Suddenly he seizes my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls back. I gasp as he moves his lips to my neck and bites gently at my throat.My blood is suddenly pounding in my ears. I’m immediately wet.I feel that solid pressure in his pants, now fully hard
Finally he’s full inside me, and he starts to gently rock. An inch out, then balls deep. Two inches out, two inches back in. Three inches… four inches… five inches… six… more… each stroke getting progressively longer… deeper… hitting places deep inside me…I’m moaning, I’m sighing, I’m groaning. I lean backwards, my hair hanging free in the air as he holds me with his big strong arms and just fucks me. Fucks me so good.He pulls me back up with one arm, never missing a stroke, and pulls my face to his.He’s kissing me now, angrily, passionately. Rough and urgent.I kiss him back, both of my hands on his smooth face, letting him inside me, both inside my mouth and between my legs.Actually, I didn’t let him inside me so much as he took it. Just possessed me – fucking me, kissing me so deeply.We break off the kiss, and for the first time I open my eyes.He’s looking right at me, his face contorted in pain and pleasure. His beautiful eyes… that scowl on his face like he can’t believe h
WHAT THE FUCK?!I stand there in complete and utter shock. The best sex of my life, and the guy – the incredibly hot, powerful, rich, brilliant guy – walks off, leaving me naked, on a ledge in a secret passageway four stories above Sunset Boulevard.WHAT THE FUCK?!I hurriedly pull on my dress, embarrassed at what I’ve done. I look back at the people beyond the mirror, but they’re completely oblivious. At least I don’t have any witnesses to my shameful predicament.Except the douchebag who just walked out.I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I let him do that to me.And then he just walks off!The fucking ASSHOLE!JERK!GODDAMN PRICK!I pick my panties up off the cement walkway. It’s dusty up here, so there’s no way I’m putting them back on. I open up my clutch to stuff them in – And realize something’s wrong.It’s a little light.I look inside.My wallet’s there – no money is missing – But my cell phone’s gone.Holy fucking shit, I am going to KILL Grant Carlson if I ever r
One other thing I kinda neglected to mention: I’m a former hacker.I started playing with computers when I was seven. I messed up my Dad’s computer, and boooooy was he mad. But rather than punishing me, he just bought another one and was like, “Eve, the broken one’s yours. Do whatever you want with it, but do NOT touch mine again.”Within three weeks I’d learned how to install different operating systems, was messing with UNIX, and yada yada yada. You don’t care. Suffice it to say, by fifteen I was a full-on hacker. I breached the Department of Defense’s website. I was a high-ranking member of Anonymous (hackers who try to right societal wrongs). My specialty was fucking up revenge porn sites and torching the owners’ bank accounts.Then, when I was 17, my buddy Mailin got caught.Mailin was the closest thing I had to a boyfriend in high school, though we never kissed or even held hands. But we were inseparable. He was a hacker, too, though not as good as me. Which is why he got caugh
The Hollywood Charity Gala was on Saturday night. I started work the second I got home and pulled an all-nighter with the aid of lots of coffee. I know that probably sounds horrible to you, but I’m a computer geek. Twenty-four hours of hacking is my version of getting drunk at the club and going to an afterparty.I won’t bore you, but by Sunday evening, I had poked into every nook and cranny of the internet I could find, searching for ways to fuck Grant Carlson up.He was a slippery character, I’ll give him that.All of his major bank accounts appeared to be offshore holding companies. I traced 27 accounts back to St. Lucia, the Seychelles, and Samoa. I found out he owned astounding amounts of property in every major city in the world – Paris, New York City, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Moscow, Buenos Aires, Mexico City, London, you name it. We’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars.And that wasn’t even counting his family’s construction companies.But the most useful thing I
The thing that infuriated me, though, was I couldn’t stop thinking about him.Couldn’t stop thinking about the sex. His cock. His kisses.Couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done, what he’d said, how he’d smelled, how he’d felt while he was inside me.Couldn’t stop thinking about me being naked, in public, having mind-blowing sex just feet away from people who couldn’t see me.I’d never done that before. If you’d asked me before last night if I would have liked it, I would have said HELL no!But I did.He’d taken me outside of myself and led me to do something I never would have asked for on my own… and I loved it.And then he’d gone and been a total dick.I hated him for walking away from me after sex like that…But, paradoxically, it made me want him more. It was the opposite of every clingy, needy guy I’d ever been with. The kind who were just so happy to get laid that they rolled over at every opportunity.I was so angry at him… but I was kind of turned on by it, too.It was a
But he’s definitely not finished.He sits down in my plush leather chair and arranges me effortlessly so that I’m straddling him. I can feel his cock pressing hard through the material of his pants against me.He starts to unzip his fly.“Wait,” I say.He stops and looks at me. I can tell he’s annoyed.“I want to see your body,” I whisper.The intent look turns to a grin, and he nods.I undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Incredible chest… pronounced muscles… washboard abs. I want to see his arms – his biceps are so big they’re straining against his sleeves – but he seems impatient, and I don’t want to make him shuck off his jacket.I let my fingers trail lightly down his massive pecs, through the light scattering of hair on his chest. I touch his hard, small nipples… then move down to his abs, which feel like they’re carved out of wood under the skin.He grunts as I unbuckle his belt, unzip him, and reach in and free his cock.Oh God.I didn’t get to see
And then I gradually come back to reality.I can’t believe I just did that.IcannotBELIEVE Ijustdid that.I grab a box of tissues out of my desk, and we do our best to clean ourselves up.I kind of want to clean him up – just so I can touch his body again – but I’m too abashed. So I just concentrate on myself.I straighten my skirt, pull on my underwear, and smooth my blouse and hair. He buttons his shirt, tucks it into his pants, but leaves his tie undone, like he’s relaxing at home after a particularly stressful day at work.Embarrassed, I retreat across the room and cross my arms defensively across my chest.“Okay… so that just happened,” I say to myself under my breath.Apparently not quietly enough, because he lights up with a massive smile. “Yes it did.”I cannot BELIEVE I just fucked this guy (although to be fair HOLY SHIT that was mindblowing) in my office. On a Monday morning. Thirty feet away from my coworkers.With a Post-It note on my door telling them I’m in a ‘meet