Hard At Work (A Dark Alpha Romance) (Nice and Dirty Series Book 3) Read online

  The moment she walked into my office, I knew I would claim her...

  When a clumsy waitress spilled a drink on me, I looked up to see who this woman was. Her name is Aria Stevens. She is gorgeous and her curves are so dangerous they should come with a warning.

  When her boss fires her for spilling the drink, I offer her a job at my firm. I find out that not only is she hot, she’s also smart and funny. I want her so damn bad; it hurts. But she’s skittish and shies away from me. I thought she was staying away because I’m her Boss, but its more than that; she’s a virgin.

  Now that I know, I have plans for Aria and I will make sure that I claim not only her body but also her heart and soul. She says she’s single because men are hard to deal with. But I’ll show her that a hard man is exactly what she needs.

  Please note: This is a sexy, safe, short story. It's also a stand alone, HEA. If you like getting dirty, you've come to the right place.

  “HARD AT WORK”

  Nice & Dirty Series

  By- Lola StVil

  Copyright © 2019 by Lola StVil

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CHAPTER ONE

  COLTON

  What the fuck am I doing here? That’s the question that keeps on running through my head as I circulate around the governor’s ball. Yeah, the fucking governor’s ball. It’s so not my scene, but it’s the sort of event that opens doors. You get seen at a place like this, and the money in the room knows your business is trustworthy.

  I fit in because I force myself to, but my suit itches and irritates me. I’d be so much more comfortable in jeans and a tool belt, but as the owner of Colton Blackwell Industries, I find myself in a suit way more often than I’d like.

  I smile politely and nod as a woman dripping in diamonds and wearing a little too much of over-expensive foreign scent tells me her issues with the current political system for the fourth time. I’m trying to figure out how the fuck I can get away from her without being outright rude, when I see her. A vision. An actual fucking angel.

  I can only see her from the back, but the way her black cocktail dress hugs her hips makes her ass captivate me. I feel my cock stiffening as I look her over. She’s tall, but she’s not one of those girls who try to shrink themselves. She has her shoulders back, her head held high. She balances the tray of champagne on her hand with ease, moving through the crowd with a quiet grace. The electric-blue streak in her jet-black hair makes her look exotic, like she knows how to kick back and some fun.

  I have no idea what the woman talking to me is saying. From the second my eyes set on that waitress, there’s been no room in my head for anything else. I see myself walking up behind her, taking the tray from her, and throwing it to one side. I stand behind her, push her dress up, and rip away her panties. I bend her over the table and fuck her senseless.

  “Mr. Blackwell? Are you all right?”

  Hearing my name pulls me out of the fantasy and I turn back to the conversation. I fake a smile.

  “Yes. Sorry, I felt a little dizzy for a moment there,” I say. “Would you excuse me? I think I need a bit of air.”

  I walk away before she has a chance to reply, and I’m sure I offended her, but it would surely offend her more if she happened to glance down and see I had a hard-on. I slip into the bathroom and lock the door, leaning back against it, waiting it out until my cock goes down. I want to jerk off, to let my fantasies run wild as I picture the waitress. If the front of her is even half as pleasing on my eye as the back, then fuck me am I in trouble if I see her again.

  I am shocked at the reaction she caused in me. I haven’t so much as glanced at a woman in almost two years. There’s no deep reason for it, no skeleton in my closet. I just got sick of being part of the dating scene. It’s a mess of gold diggers, social climbers, and women with whom I just had nothing in common and no chemistry.

  But her? She awoke a side of me I thought was gone for good. The side of me that wants to make her scream my name through her raw throat as she comes for the third and fourth time. The side that makes me want to taste her pussy, claim it as mine and fuck her all day, every day.

  Thinking this way is doing nothing to get my hard-on to go away, and I resign myself to the fact that I’m going to have to jerk off in the governor’s bathroom. Not something I ever saw myself doing. But then, I didn’t know that such a rare beauty existed, that such fire could course through my body and make me lose complete control.

  I take care of my business and clean my cock with some toilet paper. I flush it away and wash my hands. I walk back out into the room. I stand on the edges, scanning the room, but I don’t see her. Instead I see an ocean of wealthy, glamorous, small-minded, fake people—the in crowd.

  I can fake the smiles and feign interest in things I don’t give a rat’s ass about, but I’ll never be one of them. Not really. I don’t want to be. I want Colton Blackwell Industries to flourish, and I like the fact I’m only twenty-nine and already a millionaire, but it hasn’t changed who I am. And who I am is not one of these people. I’m just a normal guy who turned his passion into a business. I was shocked when the governor called me and asked me to complete a large extension on one of his properties. I was even more surprised when he personally oversaw the job. And the last thing I expected was an invite to his ball. I mean, come on. Like, what the actual fuck?

  It’s been a whole lot of surprises, and the most surprising part of it all is my reaction to the waitress. Part of me wants to stay right here until I see her again, but part of me wants to turn around, leave, and try to forget her. That won’t be easy, but I swore off women and I have no intention of that changing. Just because she looks so damn good in a dress doesn’t mean she’ll be different than the rest, and I have no intention of getting involved with her or anyone else.

  I decide to give it another half an hour and then slip away. To leave too early would be seen as a snub on the governor, and I’m not an idiot. I know that, as much as I hate this fake shit, to land big projects, you have to know the right people. I decide to go out on the balcony and get some fresh air like I said I was.

  I start to cross the room, nodding hello at the few faces I recognize as I go. I am halfway across when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out and look down at the screen. Before I even register who it is, I feel someone collide with me.

  A loud clatter fills the air, and I feel champagne soaking into my expensive suit. I stand there, frozen in time. Not because of the champagne, but because I find myself face to face with my girl.

  Her face is a mask of horror, but she is still beautiful. She has big brown doe eyes that stare back at me with the same intensity I am staring at her. Her lips are full, red and sensuous, and I can’t help imagining how they would feel wrapped around my cock. She looks every bit as good from the front as she did from the back. Her breasts aren’t big, but they are perky, and I want to caress them, to pull them into my mouth. I feel my cock starting to rise again.

  I remind myself that I’m done with dating, but something tells me this waitress will break that resolve without trying. There’s something special about her. Something that scares me. Because when I look at her, I don’t see a quick fuck and a goodbye. I see a lifetime.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ARIA

  I hate being a waitress. There, I said it. The thing is, I need thi
s job. The pay is reasonable and the tips make it good money. Good enough to pay for business school and cover my bills and not intense enough that I can’t get any studying done.

  The most annoying thing about waitressing is that even though I hate it, I’m pretty good at it. I look good enough in a tight black dress, I can be unobtrusive, and I have decent skills when it comes to balancing overloaded drinks trays on my hands. It’s not my passion, though. My passion is business, but I want to learn the ropes before I dive in. I’m only twenty-one; I have plenty of time to do this the right way.

  I walk around the room with my tray of drinks, smiling politely, subtly collecting up empty glasses, and generally wishing I was anywhere but here.

  “Excuse me, miss,” someone behind me calls.

  I turn my head and realize they are talking to one of the other waitresses. I turn back the way I’m walking, but it’s too late. I collide with a man. The tray flies from my hand, hundreds of dollars’ worth of glassware crashes to the ground, and the champagne from all those glasses soaks him.

  I freeze, looking at the mess I made. And then my eyes meet his. His eyes are dark brown, almost black. They are stormy and dangerous and utterly addictive. I feel a rush of wetness between my legs as his piercing gaze locks on to mine. Great. I’m practically coming in my panties and he’s going to yell at me. The more I look at him, the wetter and more flustered I get.

  I wish I spotted him sooner, like before I’d doused him in expensive champagne. Not that it matters. Someone like him wouldn’t waste their time with a waitress. And besides, I have a boyfriend and I’m not the kind of girl who cheats. I’m generally not the kind of girl who gets wet looking at strangers, either.

  I manage to pull my gaze from his long enough to take in the expensive suit I ruined and the taut muscles beneath it. I feel myself tingling as I take him in.

  I realize that the crashing sound of the tray falling to the floor has caused everyone in the room to fall silent. I feel heat start to flush my cheeks. I wait for him to make a scene. I am so fired. I don’t know what to do. Should I run for a towel? Clean up the glass? I should at least apologize.

  “I … I’m so sorry,” I stammer.

  My words break the spell, and the tantrum never comes. The man gives me a half shrug and smiles, a smile that lights up his eyes and sends another shiver running through me. He crouches down and begins to pick up the pieces of broken glass. I see the governor rushing toward us. He nods subtly to another waiter, who takes the hint: get the mess cleaned up. The conversation in the room starts up again as the other guests realize they’re staring.

  The governor reaches us. “Colton, I’m so sorry about this.”

  He doesn’t give Colton a chance to respond before he turns to me.

  “What’s your name?” he demands.

  “Aria. Aria Stevens, sir,” I whisper.

  “Well, Aria Stevens, it’s time for you pack your things and get out of here. And I’ll make sure you never work in this town again. You’re a disgrace.”

  I feel tears flood my eyes. I need this job.

  “I …” I start.

  I stop, knowing I won’t be able to say any more without crying. Colton glares at the governor and then turns to me. He smiles and holds out his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Colton Blackwell,” he says. “And I’d love to have you.”

  I take his hand and feel a jolt of electricity flood me as my skin touches his. His words hang in the air—an invite for what, exactly?

  “Working at my company,” he adds after too long of a pause.

  I can feel my heart racing as he looks at me again. Our hands are still clasped together. Colton seems to realize it at the same moment as I do, and he releases my hand. I’m sure the job offer isn’t for real, but I’m going to play along in front of the governor and retain the tiny bit of pride I still have left.

  “I’d like that,” I say. “I’ll give you my number.”

  I start to walk away, and Colton follows me without so much as a glance at the governor. His gesture and his total uninterest in making the governor happy emboldens me, and I turn back for a moment.

  “Umm, sir?” I say.

  The governor looks at me, not even attempting to hide his annoyance.

  “I think you’ll find New York is a city, not a town,” I say with a fake smile.

  I turn and walk away, leaving the governor red-faced and open-mouthed as a couple of the guests snicker at my comment. I head for the staff coatroom with Colton behind me. I look back over my shoulder and see he’s smirking at my comment. We reach the coatroom, and I grab my purse and coat.

  I turn to Colton.

  “Thank you. For letting me save face in there. I know you didn’t mean it about the job, and I just want you to know it’s cool.”

  “I did mean it,” Colton replies. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I run a construction company and we don’t have much use for a waitress. I do need an admin assistant to help out on the front desk, but I don’t suppose you’d be interested in—”

  “I’d love to,” I interrupt before he can change his mind.

  He looks surprised at my outburst. I’m a little surprised myself, but the job he thinks I wouldn’t be interested in sounds much more up my alley than what I’m doing here.

  “I’m actually going to night school studying business. I’m in my third year,” I explain. “So that sounds perfect for me. The waitressing was just a way to pay for school.”

  As we talk, we walk toward the exit, and as I step out into the street, unemployed and on the brink of a new job, with the hottest man I’ve ever seen walking next to me, I feel like today is the day my life will change.

  “It’ll be perfect for you,” Colton says. “It’s daytime hours, so it won’t interfere with your school, and no offence, but you’ll learn a hell of a lot more about how business works being on the front lines than you will running in and out of a lecture room with a tray. Give me your number, I’ll give you a call tomorrow, and you can start on Monday.”

  I can’t believe my luck. I fish in my purse and pull out one of my cards, which I hand to him. As he takes it, I see his hand is bleeding. It must be from picking up the glass.

  “You’re bleeding,” I say.

  I dig through my purse again and pull out a tissue. He looks at his hand and shrugs.

  “Let me see,” I add.

  “It’s nothing,” he says.

  “Oh so macho,” I tease him, holding my hand out for his.

  He shakes his head and laughs. He places his hand on mine, and I feel it again. That pulse of electricity sends another flood of wetness through me. I know he feels it too. His hand goes rigid on top of mine, and he looks at me with an intensity that both scares and exhilarates me.

  He catches my eye, and the lust I see there makes me even wetter. I don’t know anything about Colton Blackwell except one thing: I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my entire life.

  “I’m getting blood on you,” Colton says.

  I realize I’ve been staring at him for who knows how long, and I draw my gaze away from his face and look at his hand. I feel the blood rushing to my face, embarrassed suddenly. I clear my throat. My mouth has gone bone-dry. I run my tongue over my lips, trying to wet them. It doesn’t work.

  I quickly wipe the blood from Colton’s hand. The cut isn’t a big one. I press the tissue against it and hold it in place for a few seconds. When I gently ease it away, the cut has stopped bleeding. I use a clean spot on the tissue to wipe my hand, and then I wipe the area surrounding his cut. Our touch brings that feeling on again, but I’m expecting it this time. I press my thighs together, trying to stop the tingling rush in my pussy, something I’ve never ever felt before. It’s delicious, but I am conscious of the fact I’m in the middle of the street.

  “All better.” I smile, pleased that my voice sounds reasonably normal.

  “You must have a magic touch,” he says with a wink.

  I
get the impression he’s not really talking about the cut, and I blush again. He grins at me.

  “I’ll get you a cab,” he says.

  He steps away from me, and I can breathe normally again for a second. He whistles, and a cab pulls in. He opens the door and smiles, gesturing for me to get in.

  “Thank you,” I say. “And I really am sorry about your suit.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s only a suit. And it was my fault anyway. I should have been watching where I was going.”

  My heart sinks as I get into the cab. He closes the door and waves at me as we pull away. I give the cab driver my address and settle back in the seat. How could I have been stupid enough to let myself think Colton was feeling that spark too? He didn’t offer me a job because he likes me. He did it because he feels guilty that he got me fired.

  It’s nothing but a pity job. My pride is telling me to reject the offer, but I know I can’t do that. A job is a job, and I need the money. I’ll just have to be the best damn admin assistant he’s ever had and show him that he made the right choice, whatever his reasons for it might have been. And I have to stop thinking about what he would look like with that shirt off.

  CHAPTER THREE

  COLTON

  I watch until Aria’s cab is out of sight, and then I head around to the front of the building and ask the valet attendant for my car. I’m pretty sure I won’t be welcomed back to the party, and I’m cool with that. I don’t want to go back into an environment when the host thinks it’s okay to treat someone like that for a mistake. A mistake that wasn’t even her fault, but he didn’t bother to find that out. I could have set the record straight, but I didn’t for two reasons.

  First, Aria deserves better than to be working a dead-end job for a dead-end boss. Second, I am intrigued by her, and when the opportunity arose to have her in my office, I took it. It worked out well for both of us.