Devil in a Suit (Cocky Suits Book 1) Read online

  Devil in a Suit

  Cocky Suits Series Book 1

  Alex Wolf

  I’m a devil in a suit.

  I don’t play nice.

  It’s not my style.

  I’m the best attorney in Dallas and I have a reputation to maintain.

  If opposing counsel smells weakness, they walk all over you.

  Not on my watch.

  Life was good until I met her—Brooke. I had more money than I could ever spend. More power than one man should possess. People respect me and it’s for a reason. I demand it.

  Brooke’s nothing but another encounter.

  She’ll end up beneath me. They all do. I’ll keep it casual. Nothing more.

  I don’t do relationships. I don’t do love. It’s counterproductive to the lifestyle I lead.

  But, no matter how hard I fight it, I want more. Brooke doesn’t take any sh*t and she gives it back twice as hard. She turns me on in ways that can’t be explained with her tight body and snarky mouth.

  I’ll take whatever I want from her and then some.

  Because I’m Weston Hunter, Attorney at Law.

  Devil in a suit Copyright © 2018 Alex Wolf

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Publisher © Alex Wolf May 3rd, 2018

  Cover Design: Lori Jackson

  Editor: Spellbound

  Formatting: Alex Wolf

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Brooke

  2. Weston

  3. Brooke

  4. Weston

  5. Brooke

  6. Weston

  7. Brooke

  8. Weston

  9. Brooke

  10. Weston

  11. Brooke

  12. Weston

  13. Brooke

  14. Weston

  15. Brooke

  16. Weston

  17. Brooke

  18. Weston

  19. Brooke

  20. Weston

  21. Five months later

  Preview Shagged

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Preview Professor’s Pet

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Preview Banging The Intern

  Introduction

  Tom

  Rose

  Preview Playboy in a Suit

  Introduction

  April

  Brodie

  April

  About the Author

  Brooke

  If ever there was a day for some bullshit, this one takes the cake.

  I throw up my hand in frustration. “Oh, come on!”

  Some jerk just hopped in the cab I was waiting for. His dark eyes meet mine through the window as a cocky grin spreads across his face. Rubbing his chin, he says something to the driver.

  Asshole.

  I’m tired after my flight, and all I really want to do is get home and crawl into bed. My one-bedroom studio apartment is my sanctuary. God, how I’ve missed the comfort of living on my own after spending Christmas with my folks and our extended family in Vermont.

  My Aunt Susan and her divorce was all everyone wanted to talk about. Depressing is what it was.

  I look down the line of cars hoping another cab is mixed in there somewhere. Traveling during peak holiday season is a real bitch and right now so am I. I could’ve called Misty to pick me up, but she’s perpetually late for everything.

  My flight was terrible. I was seated next to an overweight man who kept sniffling and blowing his nose, coupled with excessive coughing. Every time he went through the motions he elbowed my right tit. I probably have a bruise, and the last thing I need is to get sick with the caseload I know is sure to be waiting for me on my desk when I return to work. I would’ve asked to switch seats, but the plane was full.

  When I pull out my cellphone to get an Uber, a deep voice calls out to me. “Wanna share?”

  His tone vibrates through me, and he smirks when I look up from my purse.

  My first inclination is to flip him the bird, but I want to get home more than I want to tell him to shove his head up his ass. “Oh, gee. Thanks.” I roll my eyes as I tug my luggage behind me.

  The cabbie hops out, takes my belongings, and places them in the trunk.

  The back passenger door hangs open, held by the cab thief and his charming grin he seems to wear with pride.

  I stop by the door, waiting for him to move out of the way so I can get in. His gaze travels up the length of my legs, not stopping until our eyes meet when I slide into the seat next to him.

  The first thing I notice about him is a small dimple in his left cheek, next to his well-groomed beard.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I scoff, unable to stop the shocked smile turning up on my face. “I think what you mean to say is, ‘sorry I jacked your cab.’”

  He holds out his hand expecting me to shake it. “Weston.”

  I accept it to be nice. His grip is firm and swallows mine. He’s definitely muscular, but not bodybuilder huge.

  “Nice name for an asshole.” My tone is half-joking as I release his hand.

  The annoyingly attractive man’s jaw ticks as he loosens his tie. I suck in a breath as the intoxicating scent of his cologne invades my senses. It’s a smell that I can only describe as pure male—woodsy and natural.

  His tailored suit tells me he comes from money. The gray jacket hugs his biceps. I spot a hint of a tattoo under the collar of his shirt and I can’t help but wonder what it looks like.

  The cabbie closes his door and turns to me. “Where to?”

  “Village apartments. North side.”

  The man nods and pulls into the traffic leaving DFW.

  The world’s most annoying ringtone sounds from Weston’s pocket, and he flashes me an apologetic smile as I scrunch my nose at the whistling sound. My temples throb in warning of a headache. I’m sleep deprived.

  He pulls his phone out, texting furiously.

  I lean my head against the window, anxious to get home and fall face-first into my bed.

  I don’t know what I was thinking flying home the day before New Year’s Eve.

  My cellphone chirps from inside my purse.

  Pulling it out I see I have a text from my mom.

  Mom: Did you make it home safe? I worry about you traveling alone. Should have come with you and caught up with the girls.

  Ugh. I love my mother, but I’m glad she didn’t. My mother thinks my friends are her friends.

  Brooke: I’m alive. Tired. Call you soon.

  “Boyfriend?” Weston, the cab thief, stares at me when I shoot a glare in his direction.

  His breath tickles my ear as he leans in, invading my personal space.

  “None of your business.” I hit send and stick my phone back in my purse.

  “So, he dumped you.” He chuckles to himself, clearly having much more fun with this situation than I am. His
eyes roam up and down my body once more, then his eyebrows raise. “Makes sense.”

  This prick.

  “I’m glad you had a moment of human decency back there, allowing me to ride in my cab, but I’m not in a chatty mood. I want to go home, take a nice hot bath, listen to an audio book, and enjoy a glass of wine.”

  “I prefer whiskey, but I’ll settle for the wine if it’s a good year. We could help get you over this man that stole your heart and left you so bitter.” He has the audacity to wink at me and my traitorous body absolutely takes notice. The man is attractive and exudes confidence.

  The way he stares at me seems to heat the cab up twenty degrees, and it’s not from the air blowing out the vents. Everyone thinks Texas is hot year-round. But in the winter things can get chilly.

  “Wow. I mean, that’s some offer right there.” I roll my eyes.

  “I don’t make bad offers.”

  I close my eyes and count to three, trying to ignore my attraction to the raven-haired hottie who knows how to wear a suit and press my buttons. My eyes meet his again and what a mistake that is. His eyes are like dark pools threatening to drown me. “Jesus, you’re full of yourself.”

  “You can be full of me too, if you play your cards right.” He smirks.

  I look out the window, because I’m afraid he just made me blush, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Jesus.” I shake my head and realize I’m biting my lip.

  “Just making conversation. Passing the time.” He whistles and looks off out the window.

  “Right. Do you normally have women falling at your feet to worship you when you turn on your charm? Your game needs work.”

  “Usually on their knees for other endeavors but worshiping me sounds nice too.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Never said I wasn’t.” He grins.

  The cab rolls to a halt in front of a giant high-rise building. This must be the asshole’s stop.

  “I’d love to continue this conversation, but this is me.” He flashes me a panty-melting grin as he pulls a money clip from an interior pocket of his jacket and slips the driver a few bills. “Keep whatever’s left over after you drive her home.”

  Part of me wants to smack the shit out of him. I know the type. Act like assholes, then play the victim. If he wasn’t so damn hot while he did it, I might’ve.

  Ugh.

  Men.

  Men suck.

  Just ask my Aunt Susan whose ex-husband ran off with his trainer.

  Before I can offer a thank you, he’s out of the car and the cab pulls away.

  Weston

  Pounding my fist against the punching bag, I can’t get the woman I shared a cab with out of my mind. Her snarky attitude had me wanting to shove my cock in her mouth. I should have known by her designer handbag and three-inch heels she’d be a snob who thinks she’s hot shit. Who knows? No strings attached rough sex might’ve gotten that stick out of her ass. I could’ve replaced it with something much better.

  I smile at my thoughts.

  I admit taking her cab was a dick move, but my driver was stuck in traffic, and I had a late dinner meeting. It wasn’t personal. But, my mother did raise me to be a gentleman and this is the south, so I shared the cab and paid for her ride home.

  Getting pussy has never been a problem. Hell, I could’ve fucked my client’s wife before I flew back home yesterday. I could’ve handled our meeting by video conference, but Mr. Pike insisted the meeting take place in person. He couldn’t be bothered to fly back to Texas while vacationing.

  Fucking clients.

  I shouldn’t complain really. He brings in a shit ton of billable hours for the firm. The only problem with a man like Mr. Pike is he has too much money to burn. Thinks he owns everyone and doesn’t let you forget that you need him. Expects me to drop my life to tackle any legal problem that falls in his lap because he’s been with my firm, The Hunter Group, since the beginning.

  And he needs attention all the time because he’s an asshole who can’t keep his cock to himself. Neither can his wife by the count of how many times her hands found their way to my ass during my visit. Somehow, I’ve managed to settle every sexual harassment case against him outside the courtroom. You’d think the bastard would learn by now with the millions he’s shelled out for my services and for the silence of his accusers.

  He hasn’t though, and it’s rich pieces of shit like Pike that keep the world turning.

  He’s an associate of my father. A real power player who has his hands in a bit of everything. The man has gone through more assistants than I have, and that’s saying something because I’m hard to work for.

  I throw a few more punches before hitting the shower. It’s New Year’s Eve and I intend to go out, get drunk, and get laid. Three things that should be simple to accomplish.

  I need to fuck that sexy woman from the airport out of my mind. If only I could stop thinking about her long legs wrapping around me and her heels digging into my ass while I go balls-deep into her sweet little pussy. She had blue eyes with flecks of green in them and I’m pretty sure she’s a closet screamer. I can just tell.

  That’s how I imagined last night playing out in my mind, had she accepted my courteous invitation. I would’ve canceled my dinner meeting for her. Would’ve gladly had her as a meal.

  I shrug. Her loss.

  Yet, I still can’t shake her from my mind. The chick is everywhere.

  Visions of her plump pink lips wrapping around the head of my cock have me fucking my hand as the warm water cascades over me. My fist tightening in her strawberry blonde hair as I work in and out of her smart mouth.

  Fuck me. I stroke myself harder.

  I watch her blue eyes staring up at me. She’s a hard little worker, making sure she tongues my shaft just right, trying to please me.

  I should’ve asked for her number before hopping out of the cab. I bet she would have had another sassy remark. I can imagine her pink tongue flattening against my shaft taking me to the back of her throat.

  It doesn’t take much imagination to get me off when I have good material to fantasize about.

  As I step out of the shower my phone pings with a text from my little brother.

  Brodie: Coming out tonight? Jaxson reserved the VIP room at that new club.

  Weston: I’ll be there.

  Tossing my phone on my bed, I finish toweling off and put some deodorant on.

  Once I get dressed I head into the kitchen to heat up one of the meals Karen, my housekeeper, left before taking the weekend off. I fucking hate when New Year’s Eve falls on a Sunday. It means everything shuts down Monday for the holiday and it assfucks my whole week.

  Digging into my chicken and vegetables, I look at the empty chairs around my table.

  Being thirty-four, most people expect me to be married—settled down in the suburbs with kids. Fuck that. I’m in my prime and love single life in the city.

  Sure, I’ve had my share of flings, but I don’t do girlfriends. I don’t do love. I like to fuck, and I like them to leave. It’s efficient and drama-free, usually. The arrangements work perfectly for me. I rent a room and get my rocks off. There’s no talking about how our day went or sitting through shitty movies to get to the prize.

  I don’t have time for mundane shit, nor do I feel like doing anything I don’t want to do. I don’t need to know that a woman’s cat has allergies or that her hairstylist is a gossip.

  Unlike Pike, I know how to separate my dick from my work. Which is another reason most of my assistants hate me. They see me, a young attractive man with a stable career who is unattached, and they think they can trap me. They think working in close-quarters means maybe I’ll fall in love if I just get to know them.

  There’s only one problem with their theory. I don’t want to get to know them. All I need them to do is fetch my coffee and run my errands. Occasionally pick up my dry cleaning. It’s simple.

  Finishing my meal, I toss out the leftovers and rin
se my plate before sticking it in the dishwasher.

  Glancing at the clock, I go back to my room and fire off a text to Rick, my driver, to bring the car around front.

  When I exit the building, he’s waiting. Like I said, efficiency.

  Brooke

  Come on. It’s New Year’s Eve for crying out loud.” Misty screeches through the speaker on my phone.

  “I can’t. I’m still recovering from the vacation from hell.” I stretch out on my couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a Twilight movie marathon. Jacob is about to turn into a werewolf, and I’m going to sit right here and debate which team I’m on.

  I let out an aggravated huff and take a sip of my water.

  “We’re not even thirty. Get off your ass. You can’t be a crazy cat lady until you’re thirty-five, at least.”

  Running my fingers through Casper’s fur, I laugh lightly. He looks up at me as though he takes offense to her tone.

  He purrs as I scratch behind his ears. At least Casper is loyal. Unlike my ex-boyfriend, Sean. He blamed his cheating with my former roommate on my job. Said I cared more about my work than I did our relationship. Maybe he was right. I don’t know.

  My life seems to revolve around my profession. I love my job, but Sean was right, I don’t know how to shut that part of me down as often as I should.

  “I got us a table at that new club. You know what I had to do to get Mr. Pike to get me this table? Please?” She draws the word out.