Two Days, Three Nights Read online

  Two Days, Three Nights

  By Dominique Adair

  Chapter One

  Victoria Brittain dreaded the next few hours. Tonight was Olive Street Designs’ annual thank-you party for their clients. This week’s work alone had heralded another major coup in signing their first million-dollar contract. Not that she wasn’t happy the company was doing well because she was, but tonight she’d have traded her coveted corner office for a quiet weekend at home.

  When she and her brothers had begun the advertising company just over two years ago, they’d never dreamed of making a success of their joint venture in such a short period of time. Having grown up with little money and second-hand clothing from the thrift shops down the street, they’d looked for a way to support the Brittain family and utilize the siblings’ artistic creativity. But they’d never dreamed they’d hit the million-dollar mark in such a short time.

  She closed her eyes and tipped back her head.

  And as the head of OSD marketing, her recent bonus netted just over ten thousand dollars. A delicious thrill of anticipation ran through her as she contemplated a cruise in the dead of winter. She could just imagine sailing the warm, tropical seas and soaking up the sun while her home in New York City was blanketed by snow. The time away would be sheer bliss. No calling, faxing or paging. Her day wouldn’t be interrupted with the myriad of problems that came with her high-powered profession. One whole week of naps, sunbathing and an endless supply of margaritas…

  A knock on her office door interrupted her daydream and her executive assistant popped in. “This was just delivered.” Kelley was carrying a white box tied with a lavish red bow.

  Victoria sat up. “Who’s it from?”

  “No idea. Nothing is written on the outside other than our address, and it was delivered via private messenger.” Kelley placed the box on the desk. “Maybe there’s a card inside?”

  “Could be.” Victoria picked up an interoffice envelope. “Can you drop these off to legal for me?”

  “Sure thing. Also, your evening wear is hanging on your bathroom door.” Kelley glanced at the gold watch Victoria had given her for Christmas last year. “You have a half hour before you need to be downstairs.”

  Victoria nodded, her attention already focused on the box. It was roughly ten by ten and unwrapped save the large bow. A small printed label contained her name and OSD’s address. As the office door closed behind her assistant, Victoria tugged on the bow and removed the lid. Nestled in a cloud of white tissue paper was a handwritten card.

  Wear this tonight so that I may entertain myself

  with the thought of my gift against your skin.

  She fingered the heavy ivory linen cardstock as she contemplated the masculine scrawl. The card itself gave no clues. It was high quality stationery and readily available in many shops here in New York. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but in this day and age of computers and faxes, when was the last time she’d seen a handwritten note?

  She sighed and dropped the card on her desk. Pawing through the layers of tissue paper, a startled squeak caught in her throat when the box’s treasure was revealed.

  Of the sheerest black silk, the bodice of a camisole was adorned with tiny black seed pearls, jet beads and trimmed in soft lace. Victoria lifted the camisole by the delicate ribbon straps as she marveled over the exquisite beading. A matching thong lay nestled beneath in its bed of tissue. Small lace bows and a cluster of matching pearls and beads adorned the narrow front.

  She bit her lip. Who would have sent her such an intimate and extravagant gift? Obviously an attendee of tonight’s party. Many men—clients, she silently amended—had been invited for the festivities this evening. Which one of them would be forward enough to send her a gift of expensive lingerie?

  She eyed the delicate beading. This set had cost several hundred dollars at least. She bit her lip again. Was she daring enough to wear this gift to the party?

  Could she dare not to?

  Her eyes narrowed as she stroked the silk between her fingers. Mentally running through a list of her co-workers, she couldn’t think of anyone who’d dare to send such an intimate gift. Around the office she had the reputation of a dragon-lady, though she was acknowledged as being fair as well as tough. None of the men who worked at OSD had ever presumed to ask her out on a date let alone hint that they were interested in her sexually.

  That left clients.

  And dating a client would be a disaster. End of story. She kicked off her sensible black shoes before rising from her chair. Often, behind closed doors, she’d remove her shoes while she worked. She enjoyed the feel of the plush gray carpeting beneath her feet. Taking the box with her, she headed for her private bathroom.

  It was small but functional, decorated in pale gray and mauve. She laid her gift on the gleaming marble vanity and reached into the postage stamp-sized shower to turn on the water. After adjusting the temperature, she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the hot spray.

  As she lathered her favorite lavender soap, Victoria began preparing a mental list of clients attending the party this evening. Of the hundred or so people, two-thirds of the responders were men and the majority were bringing dates or their wives. Not that having a woman by their side would stop many from making passes at other women.

  It certainly hadn’t stopped her ex-fiancé.

  Victoria scowled as she rinsed the soap off her skin. Thoughts of Brad were certainly not welcome this evening. He’d left her almost a year ago when he’d found a younger, thinner more masochistic girlfriend. Not that Victoria had anything against a little pain with her sex; a gentle spanking or light bondage was a welcome change to vanilla sex. Let’s face it, sex could get boring when left with the same face over and over again.

  She turned off the water and flung open the shower door. Brad had left her before they’d ventured too far into the bondage and discipline world. That was probably her greatest regret over the demise of the relationship; not that Brad leaving was a loss, as that had been a blessing in disguise. Rather she’d been left with the feeling that she was definitely missing out on something spectacular. She grabbed a towel from the heated towel rack. Maybe it was time to get back into the game and find another playmate? Someone with an interest in the same style of kink she’d long suspected she’d enjoy?

  She frowned. How did one go about finding a patient Dominant willing to train a potential submissive but most definitely sexual adventuress like herself? The Internet? The newspaper? She turned and caught a glance of her pale body in the mirror and her breath left her in a noisy huff.

  Preposterous.

  She was a thirty-seven-year-old advertising executive, not some twenty-something girl that most of her male associates seemed to look for. Maybe the gift was just a present from a grateful client with a wicked sense of humor. She turned away from the mirror and began drying herself. Granted, the usual gift consisted of a bottle of fine wine or tickets to a show, not sexy lingerie.

  The open box was lying on its marble altar. The overhead light cast shadows on the silk and made the pearls glow and beads flash. The garment seemed to be mocking her attempts to find a reasonable, rational explanation for its appearance.

  She tossed the damp towel over the bar. Okay, supposing the gift was from a man who desired a physical relationship with her. Who could that be? She picked up her bottle of body lotion and poured a generous amount into her palm.

  Michael Walls, owner of the Walls Appliance mega-stores was a possibility. He was on tonight’s guest list and he was very single, very eligible and definitely good-looking. Then there was Harry Irons, the president of Irons Gaming Software. She smiled as she smoothed lotion up her thighs. Harry mig
ht be a genius with computers but he couldn’t concentrate long enough to ensure that his socks matched when he got dressed. There was no way it could have been him.

  What about….

  Victoria stopped.

  No.

  William Hunter.

  His name alone caused a rebellious little flutter in her midsection. She met with him every three to six months after he’d pulled his account from a rival firm when OSD had opened its doors. It was actually Brad’s connection to Hunt that had landed the very profitable account squarely in her lap. Even after OSD had expanded and she’d hired staff, Hunt had insisted she take care of his account personally rather than handing it off to a subordinate. She’d never understood why as their meetings were always short, impersonal lunches or simple get togethers in her office. William Hunter had never done or said anything to indicate he was interested in her for anything beyond managing his marketing plan.

  Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from imagining him naked. William Hunter was a good-looking man. Tall with dark brown hair and bedroom eyes to die for. And she respected him both as a client and as a person. He had a quick mind, a generous spirit and the fact the man could fill out a pair of jeans like no one else was an extra-added bonus.

  She bit her lip as she reached for the thong panties. Stepping into them, she shivered as the cool silk skimmed her legs before settling high on her hips. She’d never worn a thong before and she glanced in the mirror to see how it looked.

  For her age, she was passable. She ate well, worked out three times a week and her breasts weren’t sagging too much…yet. She ran her hand over the generous curve of her left breast. She’d always been big chested and wore minimizing bras to hide what her mother had considered to be a flaw. She didn’t think it was a flaw to have large breasts. She brushed her thumb over the hardened tip and a breath of air escaped her. They were pretty nice as far as breasts went and very sensitive. On more than one occasion she’d brought herself to orgasm strictly by playing with her nipples.

  Regardless of how nice they were, they were still thirty-seven-year-old breasts and Hunt had been seen around town with twenty-something cover models. Victoria reached for a strapless bra. She couldn’t compete with cover models so that ruled out the handsome shipping owner entirely. For all she knew her admirer was the elderly Oscar Potts, owner of a chain of automobile detailers.

  She grinned as she slid the camisole over her head. She certainly couldn’t imagine Oscar sending any woman a gift of such an intimate nature. Come to think of it, she couldn’t imagine any of her clients sending her lingerie. So maybe it wasn’t a client?

  Disappointed somehow, she reached for her makeup bag. To bad it couldn’t be Hunt. An affair with him could be fun, not that she’d ever mix business with pleasure, of course. His account was too important to OSD and she’d never do anything to jeopardize their financially profitable relationship.

  She sighed. Scruples were a pain sometimes.

  She applied a light amount of makeup and twisted her hair into a simple chignon. Already she could hear her guests arriving and it was time to get this show on the road.

  Her garment bag hung on the back of the door where Kelley had put it earlier. With a quick tug on the zipper, she pulled an exquisitely tailored tuxedo jacket and matching floor-length skirt from the bag. Her sheer black thigh-high stockings were neatly folded inside one of the matching high-heeled pumps in the bottom of the bag.

  Drawing the stockings up her legs, she reveled in the innate sensuality of the movement as the dangling beads on the front of the thong teased her silk-covered mound. She’d always been a sensual creature and now, thanks to her gift, she was almost painfully aware of her body. It had definitely been far too long since she’d had sex. She smoothed the stockings on her thighs, reveling in the tingling the movement awakened at the apex of her legs. This was an issue she’d have to address and soon. Maybe she’d meet a single, handsome man on the cruise? One who wouldn’t be adverse to a little spanking and a lot of sex.

  Stepping into the skirt, she pulled it up and zipped it at the waist. The back was slit so high that wearing a slip was impossible. She slid her feet into towering heels, smiling when they added another three inches to her five-foot-eight inch frame.

  The jacket was deceptively simple with its double-breasted design. She buttoned the jacket and the deep V just barely hid the top of the camisole. Only when she bent over would the jacket part enough to allow a glimpse of silk and her ample cleavage. She gave herself a quick spritz of lavender water. Now she was ready to face the party.

  A trill of naughtiness swept through her as she opened the bathroom door. Would her secret gift-giver make himself known this evening? She certainly hoped he did and could only pray he wasn’t a client.

  Chapter Two

  Victoria sipped the excellent champagne, an interested smile pasted on her face. In all of her years in the corporate world, the parties never changed. People drank too much, ate too much and slipped off into corners and supply closets to grope people they wouldn’t notice for the rest of the year.

  She nodded as Ophelia Potts, Oscar’s new wife, expounded on the joys of the tofu cookbook she’d received for her birthday. In reality, Victoria couldn’t have cared less as she was preoccupied with uncovering the identity of her mystery gift-giver. Here it was, over two hours into the evening, and no one had so far come forward.

  Michael Walls had arrived alone, but he’d paid her no more attention than usual. Other than the obligatory greeting he’d said no more. No sly smiles, no knowing looks. She mentally crossed him off her list.

  Harry Irons had arrived with a brand new fiancée in tow, and with Oscar’s startling arrival with Ophelia she could safely remove both of them. There were several unescorted males in the room and, while she knew their names, she’d never dealt with them personally. There was no reason to think any of them would send her the gift.

  She’d seen Hunt from a distance but he’d acknowledged her presence with nothing more than a vague nod in her direction. She ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. A man with his money, looks and connections could have any woman to warm his bed. There was no reason to send Victoria anything when he had a bevy of beautiful young models to pick from.

  Victoria jerked as she realized Mrs. Potts was tugging her arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The other woman gave her an odd look. “Are you okay? You looked like you were a million miles away.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Potts.” She waved her hand to encompass the crowded atrium. “I’m afraid I’m getting quite a headache. Maybe I can slip up to my office and take something.”

  The older woman nodded and patted her arm. “You do that, dear. Take some aspirin and have a few quiet moments.”

  Victoria smiled and left her half-full champagne glass on a tray of used stemware. Sneaking off for a breather was a great idea. Nothing sounded better than kicking off her torturous heels and sitting for a few minutes. She made her way to the stairs, expertly dodging employees and clients alike who wished to detain her for a few words.

  She reached the second floor balcony and looked over the railing at the milling throng. Nowhere did she see Hunt. Had he left already?

  She ignored the sting of disappointment at the thought of not having a chance to speak with him. After all, he was a very important client for OSD and it was part of her job to welcome everyone and ensure his or her comfort. Regardless of the fact that Hunt was the only man to interest her since Brad had dumped her, he was off limits.

  Period.

  Her office door beckoned like a welcome oasis. With a sigh she stepped into the quiet room. Only a small Tiffany reading lamp in the far corner relieved the darkness. As she walked toward her desk, the tension left her body, especially her shoulders. She leaned against her desk to kick off one shoe.

  “Don’t do that.”

  A low, rough voice sounded from behind her. She froze when she recognized the voice a
s belonging to the man who’d haunted her thoughts for the past few hours. William Hunter.

  “Put your shoe back on,” he commanded.

  She hooked her shoe with her toe and slid it back on. Secure on two feet again, she felt more in control. “Good evening, Hunt.” Her voice wobbled and her throat felt dry. “What can I do for you?”

  “And a good evening to you, Victoria.” His voice was soft and low as he moved closer. “I think you know exactly what I want from you.”

  She shivered as he placed his hands on her shoulders. The heat of his palms seared her skin through the material of her jacket. She glanced at the darkened window to the left and all she could see was their silhouettes close together and his head bending down toward her.

  “You wore it.” His voice was husky.

  She swallowed hard. “Yes.” Her voice gave an odd little quiver that was very unlike her normal, businesslike tone. “I did.”

  His hands began a slow slide down her back. Her breath caught as he reached her waist. “I like knowing my gift rests against your skin, against your breasts.” His voice dropped and his breath stirred the soft tendrils of hair that had escaped from her chignon. “Cupping your pussy.”

  She shuddered at the sound of raw lust in his voice. Her vagina clenched as liquid heat flooded it. It had been so long…so long…

  His hands moved to the front of her jacket to loosen the buttons. Against her back, his heat and arousal were unmistakable. Her hips jerked and she had to restrain herself from grinding against that delicious hardness.

  Her jacket gaped as his hands slid inside. Strong fingers moved against the silk of her camisole as her breath halted in her throat. Every inch of her body strained for his questing fingers, wanting his touch against her bare flesh. Her breath escaped in a whoosh as his thumb brushed her skin before his entire hand slipped under her camisole.

  “Why did you send the lingerie?” She felt as if she would fly apart within seconds if something didn’t take her mind off his hand inching ever higher. Already she was wet and ready and he'd barely touched her.