Landing the Client Ch. 01

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Mischa’s potential client was driving her nuts. Absolutely, certifiably insane.

Oh, it wasn’t that Mr. Jeremy Dalton was difficult. As a self-made real estate investor, he was demanding, controlling, opinionated, hard-headed, and hard-working – all qualities she’d expect from someone who amassed a good-sized fortune before 40. In fact, she not only expected those qualities, but admired and respected them.

And, as financial advisor who wanted his account, she understood them. She worked with personalities such as his on a daily basis, and Mr. Dalton wasn’t nearly as high-maintenance as other clients she’d known or worked with.

That was part of the problem.

Within her firm, Mischa was known as a bit of a shark, willing to do whatever it took to seal the deal, grab the client, and make money, lots of money. She was shrewd, tenacious, and insightful, quick to identify exactly what approach to take to land an account… and she had to admit that Mr. Dalton left her baffled.

It really burned her well-toned ass.

Mischa wasn’t above using any weapon at her disposal – cleavage, flirting, sex, flattery, or her sharp mind and quick wit, if the client preferred to keep things strictly professional – and absolutely none of them seemed to work with Mr. Dalton.

After a long week of wining and dining in LA, she was no closer to signing Mr. Dalton to her firm, and no closer to figuring out what to do to change that. Most of her male clients appreciated at least a little cleavage or flattery, especially from her. With thick wavy black hair, bright green eyes, creamy skin, and a curvy figure, Mischa knew she was attractive, and didn’t apologize for it. She didn’t mind if her male clients, and one delightful female client, wanted to see her in a low-cut dress over dinner. She was willing to drop everything and fly out to wherever her clients wanted to meet; she’d taken meetings on golf courses and ski slopes, in spas and on beaches, over dinners, lunches, breakfasts, coffees, and, yes, in beds – whatever it took to make her clients happy.

That’s why she pulled no punches this past week for Mr. Dalton. When she wasn’t working, she had spent her time lavishing attention on him; she wanted to show Mr. Dalton that she was willing to do the same for him. His newest project was based in LA, her hometown, which would make her firm an excellent choice for his business, but after a four-course meal in one of the hottest restaurants in the city of angels, he still wasn’t willing to commit. He hadn’t said it out loud yet, but Mischa had been observing him throughout the evening very closely, and his face remained as passive and politely interested as it had been all week.

Mischa had a sinking suspicion he’d be getting on a plane tomorrow night without hiring them, and God, she hated losing.

She worked hard to stifle a sigh and maintain an attentive expression on her face as she waited for Mr. Dalton to finish saying goodnight to their dinner companions – his business manager and his lawyer. As the valet brought their car around, Mr. Dalton titled his head and gestured to the limo.

“Shall we?” With a smile, Mischa took his offered hand and slipped inside, congratulating herself on the forethought to hire a larger car. As a potential client, it was a standard gesture, but Mr. Dalton was at least six feet three inches tall, and had wide shoulders. With being such a large man, he wouldn’t have been comfortable in anything smaller than a limo.

She had barely settled into a seat when two big hands gripped her hips, and she was lifted and guided to the opposite side. Blinking, she suddenly found herself on the seats right behind the driver. What the hell?

She must have given him a look because one eyebrow lifted and he smirked at her as he settled back.

“Do you like your personal space, Mr. Dalton?” They had come over with his business manager and lawyer, but both had elected to take a cab back to the hotel. Maybe he just wanted to stretch out?

“Maybe I just want to look at you instead of the horrible traffic here.” His eyes raked down her body so slowly, Mischa could almost swear it felt like a physical touch. Not soft, but firm, deliberate. Across her face, down her neck, onto her breasts for an extra beat before drifting down her legs to her sparkly stilettos. Her dress was short and thin and filmy, with a low, draping front and an even lower back. The only thing keeping it on this side of decent was that it was a dark blue color, but nothing could hide her nipples tightening up under his gaze. They stood out in sharp relief, little nubs pressing against the material.

The little flare of awareness she saw in his eyes told her that her body’s reaction to him didn’t go unnoticed. An answering heat sparked between her legs, though it didn’t take much. Mischa loved sex, lots of it, and after a week of no attention, something with which she wasn’t accustomed, she was aching. The fact that Mr. Dalton with his shaved head, dark brown eyes, and well-muscled body was extremely attractive didn’t help matters any, either.

Maybe Escort Bayan that’s why her next words sounded mildly petulant.

“You haven’t spared me very many looks this past week, Mr. Dalton. Why start now?” Mischa heard him chuckle. It was deep and rumbling and made her want to rub herself all over him. Damnit.

“Are you put out that your schemes didn’t get you laid, Mischa? I bet that was shocking to a woman like you, wasn’t it? Not getting what you wanted when you wanted it? I was extremely entertained watching you trying to get a reaction out of me.” Ohmigod, was he… was he making fun of her? “Though I have to admit, you walk the line between slutty minx and businesswoman very well.”

Yes, he was making fun of her. Mischa could feel her face flush in embarrassment, her body frozen on her seat as her mind whirled, trying to figure out what to say or do.

“Don’t cry, Mischa. We wouldn’t want you to smear your makeup, would we?” came Mr. Dalton’s mocking voice. Her spine snapped straight.

“I’ve been rejected before, though not quite as callously, Mr. Dalton. I’ve no intention of crying.” Her teeth were clenched in fury, making the words hard to get out. She was absolutely not going to cry. She wasn’t.

“Do you normally insult potential clients?”

“I’m not sure I care anymore if I land you as my client or not.” Mr. Dalton laughed again, deeper and longer this time.

“Oh, you care. Especially when I tell you I’ve made a decision on whether or not to hire your firm.” Damn him, he was right. For someone who was used to reading people well and quickly, getting the tables turned on her was awkward, at very least.

“So, I’m ambitious. That’s not a crime,” she replied, trying for a casual shrug and not quite sure she succeeded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he speared her with a look.

“No, it’s not. In fact, to certain kinds of men, it’s a turn on.” She leaned forward as well.

“Are you that kind of man?”

“Aren’t you curious about my decision?” He dodged her question with one of his own. Mischa struggled not to ask, and failed, eliciting another laugh from him.

“Okay, fine. What conclusion have you come to?”

“That I like you better when you’re pissed than when you’re acting like a drone.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“That’s the only one you’ll get right now.”

Deep breaths, Mischa, she told herself. This was not the time to fly off the handle. This was the time for finesse. Hell, this should be easy! This was where she lived and breathed! So, why couldn’t she work up some charm right now? Where had her finesse run off to?

“Are you wearing underwear?”

The calm, quiet question and slightly amused tone interrupted her thoughts. Concentration thrown, she scrambled to answer.


“Are. You. Wearing. Underwear,” he repeated, slowly and deliberately, before leaning back against the seat. “You’re not wearing a bra, so it makes me wonder if you have anything on under that flimsy excuse for a dress.”

There was no point in denying it; she wasn’t wearing a bra. The dress didn’t allow it, and thankfully, her breasts were still perky enough to get away without one. But what did she say to the panties question? A search of his face told her he’d wait as long as he needed to for the answer.

“Yes,” she grudgingly admitted. “I’m wearing underwear.”

“What kind?”

“A thong.”

“Show me.”

Show him? Was he crazy? Though she found the idea incredibly arousing, if the pulsing heat between her legs was any indication.

“Don’t you want to find out what I’ve decided about hiring you or not?” As temptations went, it wasn’t much. But he seemed to know she needed some excuse to do what he wanted, what she wanted. It had been a long, frustrating week, and if things went the way she hoped, what might happen next would make up for it. If not, she’d have great fantasy material for later.

Slowly, she slid off the seat, dragging her dress up her thighs and over her ass cheeks. When it was collected around her waist, when her knees hit the ground, she spread her legs and watched his face. She heard a soft grunt of approval, and the small smile he gave her told her that he liked what he saw. Her thong was dark blue and skimpy, with just the tiniest scrap of silk covering her pussy. The strings on either side and down the back were dark blue rhinestones strung together.

As his eyes burned, her irritation faded. She shifted so that she was crouched on her heels, knees splayed open wantonly, exposing a dark wet spot right over her slit. He grunted softly and spread his legs, pointing to the area in between them.

“Come here. And lose the dress.”

A quick flip of her arms, and her dress was gone. She threw it next to her purse, and rose to move to him when he stopped her again.

“No. On your hands and knees.”

Humiliation burned again, and made her pause. A lift of his eyebrow and a quirk of his lips told her he was testing her, waiting for her to back down. The large erection pressing Ankara Escort against his charcoal gray suit pants told her that he hoped she wouldn’t.

Staring at it – damn, he was huge – made her mouth water, and she found herself lowering her body down to the floor of the limo. Slowly, she made her way to him, watching as his hands peeled off his clothes. First his coat, shirt, and tie. The muscles on his torso flexed and bunched as he undressed. He was magnificent. Her breath caught as he kicked off his shoes and socks, then undid his belt and unzipped his pants. She kneeled in between his legs and helped pull his pants and boxers down and off. He tossed his clothes aside and sat back, his hard cock pointing up towards his belly button.

Without a conscious thought in her head, Mischa slid her hands up his inner thighs and pressed a kiss against the underside. A tiny bit of her red lipstick transferred to his skin, and Mr. Dalton’s eyes flared.

“Keep doing that.”

More than happy to oblige, Mischa lifted herself up over his lap and kissed the length of his cock. Up, then back down, taking her time before doing the same to his balls. Eyes never leaving hers, Mr. Dalton grabbed his phone and took a call. Mischa never even heard it ring.

She didn’t know how long he was on the phone, but she did know she wanted him off and fucking her. Her body was on fire, her pussy was dripping wet. Her hands stroked and squeezed his thighs, his hips, her nails dragging down his chest. She pressed one final kiss to the head of his cock, then opened her mouth and breathed on the sensitive flesh, a thrill running through her as his body jerked in surprise. God, she wanted a taste of him so bad she couldn’t stand it.

The hand not holding the phone reached down and clamped onto her hair. It was up in a chignon at the back of her head, and his fingers tunneled into it, loosening the pins a bit. Gripping her hair tightly, he pulled her head up slightly and shook his head with a scowl. Mischa only grinned at him, and flicked her tongue out. It brushed across the tip, then under to stroke around. She circled him with her tongue, keeping it light and teasing. His hold tightened even further, but he didn’t pull her away. Instead, he finished his call – success! – and punched the intercom button.

“Driver, how long do we have you for?”

“The rest of the night, sir.”

“Excellent. Take us on a tour of LA, would you?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“A thorough tour.”

“Yes, sir.” To his credit, the driver didn’t pause or snicker. But her company paid his company enough to warrant full discretion, so Mischa wasn’t surprised. If anything, she was grateful, and made a mental note to give him a hefty tip.

“Aren’t you a naughty one, Mischa? Did I give you permission to use your tongue?” He tugged on her head, pulling it back as he leaned forward over her, his lips brushing against hers. His face was scowling, but his eyes were hot on hers.

“No,” she replied, licking her lips and brushing his at the same time. “But you didn’t tell me I couldn’t, either.”

“You had me almost cumming while on the phone with my lawyer.” Her only response was to grin at him, her hands sliding across his belly and down.

“Oh, no you don’t. Not until I’m ready.”

He moved quickly, grabbing her up and positioning her on her hands and knees across his lap. His fingers gripped and squeezed and spread her ass cheeks, pulling on the string of her thong, tugging it tight against her flesh before rubbing it back and forth. The rhinestones were smooth for comfort, and abraded against her rear hole, teasing her. She whimpered softly, causing him to chuckle and press his finger against her asshole.

“Does this feel good?” he murmured as he rubbed around it, teasing, teasing.

“God, yes.”

“Could you have a phone conversation while this was happening?”


“What about if I played with your clit?” His other hand reached under her and pressed right against that throbbing nub. The wet silk felt amazing against her clit, and she shook her head.

“N-no.” God, just a few more strokes and she’d be cumming against his hands.

“No, Mr. Dalton,” he corrected, his fingers picking up the pace, stroking her fervently now.

“No, Mr. Dalton,” she repeated, moaning. She was close, so close.

“That’s right,” he said as he pulled both hands away from her body. When she tried to lift her head to protest, one hand landed on her upper back, keeping her down. He maneuvered both of them around slightly and guided his cock towards his mouth.

“You want this?”

“Yes!” God, yes, she did. She was burning for it.


“God, anywhere!” She was desperate, and thrashed against him helplessly. She could smell the muskiness of him, and the dampness of her. She wanted him so bad it hurt.

“In your mouth?”


“In your cunt?”


“In your ass?”

“Yes! Damnit, yes! Fuck me already!” His body moved as he laughed, his cock bobbing against her lips, close, but Ankara Escort Bayan at the wrong angle.

“Ask me nicely if you can suck my cock.” She let out a scream of frustration, which only made him laugh harder. “Ask me nicely.”

Mischa groaned. She didn’t want to, but she could see a drop of precum beading up on the tip of his dick, and she absolutely had to taste him right now.

“Please, Mr. Dalton. Please, let me suck your cock. Let me suck it hard, let me suck you off. Please, please, please!”

“Good girl,” he murmured as he turned her and lined up his cock with her mouth. Greedily, she opened and sucked him down, rapidly bobbing her head up and down, hands gripping him, stroking him thoroughly as he groaned and lifted his hips in time with her mouth.

She lost herself in the blow job, loving the drops of precum she tasted on her tongue, loving the feeling of him moving against her, the heat of his flesh against her palm. His hand landed on her ass, first lightly, then heavier and heavier, making her jump each time, making her body burn hotter. She loved being spanked and he was good at it, his big hand hitting her square and solid, moving around just when it started to get painful. He timed it perfectly to make her swallow more of him each time, and she started moaning her pleasure.

Vaguely she was aware of the sound of the windows rolling down, of the wind rushing in, but it didn’t register until she heard whistles and catcalls. Her eyes popped open and she started to struggle a little. Neither of his hands, not the one on her upper back, not the one smacking her ass, stopped or lifted.

“Don’t be shy, Mischa. You’re putting on quite the performance,” Mr. Dalton murmured softly, chuckling. “Don’t lift your head, though, unless you’d like everyone on Sunset Blvd. to see your face.”

The knowledge that the windows were down, and had been for some time, that people knew she was not only sucking cock but also getting spanked at the same time, that her red ass was on display had her arching her back and groaning deeply. The next spank hit her just over her slit and her orgasm hit, hitting her so hard she screamed out her pleasure around his cock. Bright lights filled her vision and her body froze, shaking and shuddering as she came.

Limply, she collapsed face up on Mr. Dalton’s lap, her hand cupping his cock. It was still hard and glorious, and she realized he hadn’t cum yet. The windows rolled back up, and his hands slid over her body almost tenderly. He slid off her thong and bent his head to nuzzle her breasts, nipping at the hardened tips, making her shiver.

“You are amazing, Mischa,” he whispered, suckling her. “Another woman would have hit me or bit me after that stunt. Not you. You came, nice and hard for me, didn’t you?”

He lifted her and arranged her upright on the seat, ass near the edge, legs spread wide. This time, he was the one to kneel between her legs, his face pressing kisses across her swollen lips.

“I should have bit you,” Mischa managed to say, her hand running over his scalp.

“You wouldn’t have. You’re an exhibitionist,” his voice was so assured and smug. How did he know that? She would have asked him, but he started pressing kisses right on her clit, and the sensations that zinged through her felt exquisite. “You liked getting spanked like that, with my cock deep in your throat. You liked having your ass on display. You liked knowing others could see you but you couldn’t see them. Finding out might have surprised you, but you liked it, didn’t you?”

His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them as wide as they could go, exposing her pussy and ass to him. Her position, so open and vulnerable, made her tremble. He was so big, so strong, he could do anything right now, and she’d let him. He exposed her, guessing she’d enjoy it, and she did. He made her cum so hard with just spanking, without anything in her pussy or ass, that’s how turned on he made her. He was right, she got off on it, hard.

“Yes, Mr. Dalton, I loved it. Absolutely loved it.”

“What do you say to me?”

“Thank you, Mr. Dalton.”

“Good girl,” he murmured before his mouth opened and his tongue started stroking her.

And stroking her it was; not little licks, not teasing flicks, but long, thorough strokes. Through her puffy lips, across her clit, down into her pussy. She had just cum not five minutes before but already he had her writhing beneath him, ready again. She pushed her hips up against his mouth, whimpering.

“What a hungry little cunt you have, Mischa.”

“The better to fuck you with, Mr. Dalton,” she rasped. That made him laugh, hard, and he lifted up to press a brief kiss to her mouth. She tasted herself there, and her tongue darted out to lick his lips. He eyes, dark as night, got even hotter.

“You like the taste of yourself?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded.

“Hold your legs open.” Once she’d done as he asked, two fingers slid down her slit and into her. “You’re so wet and delicious. I want you to taste yourself.” He pumped a few times, enough to tease, then pulled his fingers out and lifted them to her lips. Without missing a beat, her mouth opened and she sucked those fingers in, then sucked them clean. Her tongue dragged across every inch of his fingers, in between the webbing, across the knuckles, over his nails.

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