CHAPTER 50: [R18]CONTRACT IN THE FLESH

The door opened slowly, and a heavy wave of perfume rolled in, hitting Nash like a warm, invisible hand.

It was thick and rich, sweet up front with a dark, musky bite that hinted at trouble. Nash’s skin prickled before he even saw her.

Victoria stayed still, one leg crossed over the other, but Nash’s eyes locked on the doorway.

She walked in like the main attraction, hips swaying, chin high.

A red silk dress hugged her tight, outlining the smooth curve of her waist and the soft swell of her hips.

The neckline dipped deep, pulling his gaze to the inviting line of her chest, while a daring slit climbed high enough to flash smooth, toned thigh with every step.

Diamond earrings catching the low light, her blue hair tied in a long, sleek ponytail that swayed behind her.

Sharp eyes, a predatory smile.

Nia Valencia.

Nash froze.

"You...?"

She smirked, closing the space.

"Well, well," she purred, stopping close enough for her perfume to wrap around him, "the ghost finally shows up."

For a moment he was caught off guard, seeing her here, dressed like this, but then it clicked.

She worked here. She was part of Victoria’s team. Of course she’d be here.

He rubbed the back of his neck, she seemed to enjoy his reaction.

"You skipped out on me last night," she teased. "I waited all night, baby... and you never showed up."

"It wasn’t on purpose," Nash said. He thought about telling her the truth, that he’d been dead to the world after a threesome, but kept it to himself. "I was... tied up."

She tilted her head, stepping even closer.

"Mmh. Well, at least, you’re here now. And this time, you have no escape. I’m going to eat you alive."

Nash felt his blood start to boil; if this weren’t happening right in front of a manager, he might have already gave in.

However... just having Victoria there in the room made the air feel strange, like she was a silent weight on the moment, keeping his instincts in check.

"Hold on, aren’t we here to talk about the contract?" he asked, looking toward Victoria.

Victoria’s smile had a glint.

"We are. But some teams like to show prospects exactly what they can offer before putting pen to paper. Motivation is important. You perform better when you’ve tasted the perks."

Nash leaned back slightly, reading the room.

"So this... is part of the pitch?"

"Tonight," Victoria said, "you’re the guest of honor. And Nia..." she inclined her head toward the blue-haired woman "will make sure you understand exactly what that means."

Victoria rose, dusting off an invisible speck, as though the matter was already decided.

"I’ll leave you to it."

Nia chuckled low and made a small hand gesture, thumb tucked between ring and index finger, then shot Victoria a look: I’ve got this.

Victoria didn’t say more. She headed for the door.

"Enjoy the feast, Blaze."

The door shut behind her, leaving Nash and Nia in a slow silence that was anything but calm.

Nash stayed where he was, shoulders tense, eyes tracking Nia as she strolled over to a low cabinet and pulled out a tall bottle of amber liquor that looked older than he was.

She poured a slow stream into a heavy glass, the scent sharp and sweet, and slid it toward him.

"Not exactly how I pictured a contract meeting," Nash said, still gauging her.

She smiled, almost amused.

"Said like that, it’s vulgar. You’re a very important guest here."

He took the glass, the burn hitting his nose before his lips.

"So what am I?"

"A prospect worth putting on a pedestal," she said smoothly. "Victoria runs this place. She thinks highly of you. Blacklist was thrown together fast, and we don’t have a true centerpiece to make waves. You could be it."

Nash sipped, the heat spreading through his chest. She set the bottle down and sat beside him.

"Sounds like business to me, if I have to be roughly honest, from what I’ve seen, you’re not exactly the best team for a rookie," he said carefully.

Her gloved fingers reached up, tracing his jaw before resting under his chin.

"I don’t want to talk business," she murmured, eyes holding his. "We’re here to enjoy."

Nash felt the corner of his mouth twitch, halfway between a grin and a dare, but he stayed right there.

Her gloved fingers wandered along his jaw. Her perfume? All up in his space now, tangling with that warm, sweaty, sinful scent of his skin. A dangerous combo.

Her gaze just drifted, taking a lazy tour of his face before dropping south, lingering on his chest like she was mentally undressing him, hell, maybe she was.

"Wow. Big upgrade in twenty-four hours, huh?" Her voice was low, all velvet and smoke, practically purring. "That body... those damn shoulders... I liked you before, but now? I wanna meet the beast that got me this wet."

Her gloved hand slid down, squeezing his bicep like she was checking if it was even real. Satisfied, she hummed, yeah, she was into it.

She leaned in, breathing him in deep. Couldn’t help herself, apparently. The second his scent hit, her lips parted and a shiver danced down her spine, all obvious and unashamed.

Her thigh pressed up against his, slowly, rubbing in this lazy little rhythm, hips inching closer. Before he knew it, her body was right there, pressed up against him, and there was no ignoring it now.

Nash felt the heat of her through the fabric, and it lit him up instantly. His body reacted hard, his length swelling fast, pressing heavy and firm against his shorts until it was impossible not to notice.

Her smirk deepened when she felt it poke her upper thigh.

"Well, hello there," she teased, giving him a little grind, shameless as hell. "Somebody’s in a hurry."

She pulled back, slow, just enough to stand. Smoothed her dress down over her hips, looking smug as a cat with cream. Didn’t break eye contact for a second.

"Lean back for me, sugar," she commanded, all swagger and sass, head tilted like she’d already won him. "Let me give you a taste of what this staff can really do."

She straightened, eyes fixed on him, and slowly lifted the hem of her dress.

The red silk slid up her thighs until delicate blue lace panties came into view, tight, damp, and clinging to her skin.

She held it there like a challenge, giving him time to take in every inch.

"Like what you see, sugar?" she teased.

Before he could speak, she swung a leg over and straddled his lap, settling her warmth directly against the strain in his shorts.

Only his shorts and her thin lace separated them. She began to move, slow, grinding circles that let her clit brush along his length, each pass sending a jolt through him.

Then she shifted to long, up-and-down strokes, the drag of her panties catching in just the right way.

He could feel her wetness soaking through, heat seeping in until it felt like there was nothing between them.

Her rhythm changed, adding small, bouncing motions that landed her harder against him, then rolling her hips in deep, pressing arcs.

Her breathing grew heavier, a low moan escaping her lips.

"Mmm... you feel so thick under me," she whispered, biting her lip with a half-lidded gaze. "Bet you’d split me open just right."

Her movements became more urgent, the damp lace pulling against him, feeding the growing pressure inside.

His hands slid down, gripping her ass through the thin lace, feeling the give of her soft, full cheeks under his fingers.

The fabric was warm and damp against his palms, each squeeze making the plush flesh yield and spring back.

He could feel the subtle tremor in her muscles as she moved, the heat and slickness seeping through, making it impossible to ignore how close and real she was in his lap.

He pulled her closer, matching her rhythm until every roll had his cock pressing against her clit. She let out a sharp moan, shivering at the contact.

"Mmm, taking charge now, are we?" she breathed, voice trembling but full of thrill.

Leaning back, she arched her spine, chest forward, hips snapping in a quick, hungry dance.

Her body moved with sinuous precision, back bowed, heat rocking over him in rapid, needy bursts.

The sound of her breath, the wet slide of lace over fabric, and the pressure grinding between them blurred together until her gasp filled the air.

"That’s it, baby... go wild and wreck me."

Her eyes lit up as he got more eager, his hips pressing in stronger.

Her smirk turned hotter, her breath coming in small, shaky gasps as she leaned in close, clutching his shoulders so hard her nails pressed right through the fabric.

She rolled her hips in slow, tight circles, dragging the wet lace over the hard ridge of him. Each pass felt like a hot stroke, making them both grunt under their breath.

They pressed together so hard it was like they were stuck, grinding with almost no movement, bodies locked in a tense push where every tiny twitch sent a jolt.

In Nash’s head, half of him was holding back, the other half ready to take her right there, her scent and heat drowning every thought.

Then he pushed upward, his length rubbing right over her clit. She let out a sharp yelp that broke into a moan as her legs trembled.

Her hips faltered, the rhythm falling apart as a wave of pleasure crashed through her.

"Ah—! F-Fuck—" she gasped, voice shaking, her back arching as the orgasm hit.

Her thighs clamped around him, breath breaking into ragged bursts, her whole body trembling in his lap as moans spilled out and her release soaked into the lace.