by Sam Crescent
I’d heard a lot about his only nephew, a lawless man who had the brains to do the same as his uncle, but had chosen a life of sex, drugs, and alcohol, working as a bartender in a pot lounge. A loser, from Louie’s description although he’d never called him as much. I doubted his ability to run the company, but silently chided myself for judging a man I’d never met.
From my seat, I couldn’t see out into the reception area, so the door pushing inward caught my breath.
Here we go...
“Holy shit.” I snapped my jaw shut, horrified I’d muttered that out loud. The green-eyed hottie I’d seen on the chopper while rushing to work.
Thick, wavy hair, and a hint of stubble—lazy or bad boy not giving a shit about becoming a new CEO? The tight leathers and a white t-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders made me believe the latter. Add in the tattoos on his arms, the “67” on his neck, and the leather vest declaring him a Fallen Gliders MC member, and I had my answer.
And the piercing in his lip and the two on his brow?
My lady bits went haywire for a damn white boy for the first time ever—and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as Mrs. Grimes made introductions around the table to the five men making up the board of directors.
She turned toward me last, tucked in the corner as I was. I stood and smoothed down my skirt, my heart pounding.
Trip Rucker’s gaze landed on me—and my thighs twitched, along with my pussy that hadn’t seen action in over five years. A glint lit his eyes as he did a once-over down my body—lighting me on fire—before sticking out his hand.
“Miss Verene,” he echoed Mrs. Grimes, his voice sexy and suave enough to melt panties.
“Mr. Rucker,” I said, my voice as stern as my posture. Priding myself on control, I accepted his hand. Electricity shot up my arm, and I barely kept from gasping—but I did.
A slow smile curled one corner of his lips. “Uncle Louie told me a lot about you.”
“I’m sure he did,” someone muttered from the table, earning a few titters.
Trip released my hand and half turned, his profile strong and scowling as I remained unmoved by the asshole board members. “Problem?” he asked, his voice low and threatening. Dominating.
My pussy quivered.
“No, sir,” the men mumbled one by one.
Mr. Rucker turned back toward me, his gaze softening. “I’m looking forward to speaking with you later.”
I nodded, and the second he turned away, I melted into my chair.
Mrs. Grimes winked at me and left the room.
Trip Rucker, the new CEO of Rucker Corporation, took his place at the head of the table like a ruler of men, his palms on the chair’s arms as though checking out the quality of the leather beneath him. His piercing gaze roamed from one man to the next, and a thrill shot through me as each and every one cowed beneath his stare.
My stomach fluttered anew.
This ought to be good.
Chapter Three
Trip
The insinuation and laughter about Uncle Louie’s personal assistant pissed me the fuck off. Who gave a shit if he’d fucked her? She was fucking hot as shit with her mile-long legs and big tits. Tiny waist and that ass…
Fuck.
Of all people, it had to be the woman who caused my horny ass to rear-end a goddamn car.
I scowled around the table while talking down my dick, making sure to keep my focus from roaming to Rhonda Verene, the exotic goddess I knew would be starring in my fantasies for days to come—unless I could personally talk my way up her tight skirt to the slight bump revealing her pussy.
Enough.
The fuckers around the table had judged the woman who’d been a close friend—one of the very few friends—of my late uncle. They had judged my uncle himself for his slower speech, his inability to communicate well with others.
Mrs. Grimes had done well for over a dozen years helping him, but it had been Rhonda, a poor young woman he’d helped off the streets one night almost six years earlier, who hadn’t judged, who had accepted and helped him. She’d gone on to become his ears and mouth for those times his business needed him but his emotions shut down, clamming him up.
Uncle Louie had told me he owed Rhonda more than he could ever repay.
As I do now since she decided to stick around.
Uncle had left her a sizeable pile of cash, and I’d half expected her to hightail it out to live a life of luxury.
I’d considered walking out myself, mere seconds after meeting the first board member, the Senior Vice President financial officer, Mr. Richards. I met his gaze on my right, and he, too, glanced at the papers before him.
Not so arrogant now that I sat, huh?
I leaned back in my chair. Uncle had left me in charge, trusted me to oversee his life’s work, and I wasn’t about to let a bunch of stuffy suit-and-tie pricks be its downfall by taking it public—away from Uncle’s intent. The board had mailed me the suggestion to take the business public, but seeing the men, hearing what Mrs. Grimes had said, and noting their true colors by how they judged a woman my uncle adored, I changed my mind.
“Rucker Corporation will not be going public.”
My statement shifted a few men in their seats.
“Louie left his prized possession to me, and I’m going to take care of it—its people—to the best of my ability.”
“Might I ask what credentials make you qualified to take on this business, Mr. Rucker?”
I turned toward Mr. Richards, meeting his cool-eyed gaze. Blue as icicles, his eyes didn’t scare me one fucking bit. “You know I have no schooling beyond high school,” I said, motioning to his top file with my name clearly written in red ink on the tab, “and that I’m a member of the Fallen Gliders MC in New Hampshire.”
I expected mutterings and glanced around the room, surprised no one made a damn sound. “What you don’t know,” I continued, returning my focus on Mr. Richards, “is that all but two of my uncle’s software programs and only one of his patents were products of think-tanks between the two of us.”
A fucking pin could have clanged in the silence settled over the room as they glanced at one another.
“If that’s so,” Mr. Richards murmured, while thumbing through some papers, “why aren’t you on those patents you helped create? Why didn’t you stake a claim years ago?”
I shrugged. “‘Cuz I didn’t give a fuck. I was happy with my life and could have cared less about money.”
“So that attitude has since changed?”
“I still don’t give a shit about the money. I give a shit about my responsibilities as this company’s new owner, and I’ll be digging deep to make sure every single of one of you fuckers feels the same way. If not…” I motioned toward the door.
One of the members huffed—the Human Resources guy, I thought. “I for one will not subject myself to a man with such coarse language.”
“There’s the fucking door,” I said with a sneer. “Walk out now without another word, and I’ll be generous enough to give you two weeks’ pay. Any more shit out of your goddamn mouth, and I’ll boot you out on your fucking ass without a goddamn penny.”
With another huff, stick-up-his-ass man stood and walked out. One other followed—the VP of business development or some such shit.
“Anyone else?” I asked, glancing among the three remaining men.
“No, sir,” they murmured in agreement.
“Good.” I slapped my palms onto the table. “Now let’s get down to business.”
Chapter Four
Rhonda
Mr. Rucker took control, and I’d never been more pleased with Rucker Corporation’s status of minus a couple asshole directors. The very two who had misunderstood my relationship with Louie and had begun the rumors that tarnished my reputation—gone.
I found myself smiling while jotting down notes from the meeting taking place. The men discussed the future of the company, and I stole glances at my new boss as pauses in the conver
sation allowed. I also found that I had totally misjudged the man for his looks and attire, as every board member must have done.
By the end of the two-hour meeting, even Mr. Richards appeared to have gained more than a bit of respect for our new CEO.
Mr. Rucker didn’t just command the room; he knew his shit. The four men dove into software speak—what I used to tease Louie about—and Mr. Rucker ended up having to dumb down for his board to follow along rather than vice-versa like I’m sure we had all expected.
I liked my new boss and appreciated him for caring for Louie’s company beyond the money. I had inherited a small fortune myself that with the proper investments could see me through a few decades if not longer, but the memory of Louie, the desire to keep that memory alive, had influenced my decision to stay to see the company through to its end or otherwise.
Mr. Rucker seemed to have cared about his uncle as much as I had, making him okay in my book. I looked forward to talking with him—probably more than I should have.
I caught him peering at me a few times, and every connection of our gazes amped up my arousal. By the time the meeting ended, I fought to keep from fidgeting to relieve the ache between my thighs. Needing relief, I made my escape—after agreeing to meet my boss in a short time.
Just enough time for a bathroom break…
I locked the door behind me, leaned against it, eyes closed, my pulse and pussy throbbing. Heat flooded my face as I rucked up my skirt around my waist, but that didn’t stop me from running my hand down over the front of my satin panties. My clit swelled to twice its normal size, and I rubbed it a few times, hips bucking while I bit my lip to keep quiet.
One hard pinch through my panties, and I came, arching off the door, my pussy clamping down on nothing. Empty and aching, I needed something thrusting. I wanted to be owned, brutally so.
“Damnit,” I muttered, coming down and ears ringing.
My panties were soaked. I ripped them off and cleaned up after relieving myself. Panty-less for the rest of the day…
If Mr. Rucker knew, what would he say? What would he do? A biker gang member who had zero filter on his mouth was bound to toss out a few lewd comments or suggestions, regardless of possible sexual harassment accusations.
Why did I hope for that exact thing? Wanting my boss like I did wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. I’d had my fair share of rough, wild men who thought they could dominate me while living on the streets. I wouldn’t be taken advantage of again.
Stoic mask back in place, I lifted my chin and exited the bathroom, determined to keep my impenetrable armor in place.
Penetrate.
Face heating once more, I smiled at Mrs. Grimes and controlled my pace toward Mr. Rucker’s office.
Chapter Five
Trip
I hadn’t been inside Uncle’s office for almost ten years. The last couple of times I’d come down to Boston to visit him, I’d gone to his condo—which had also been left to Miss Verene. Beyond that, he’d come up to New Hampshire to visit us at my mom’s. The country offered him quiet and peace, he’d explain his driving north when he hated being behind the wheel.
I heaved a sigh and glanced at the empty walls and cluttered desk. Not a single photo, nothing personal showed his character beyond various computer parts and papers scattered atop his desk. A low chair sat across from his mess, and other than a near-empty bookshelf, no other furniture decorated the space.
Standing before the window, I gazed over the bit of Boston I could see. Soundproof, the glass allowed my imagination to hear the sounds of people and traffic rather than the real thing. I missed New Hampshire, missed the quiet, the peace Uncle had claimed to love so much. Only in town for less than twenty-four hours, and I was ready to return home. What the fuck had I been thinking taking over Uncle’s business and becoming a tied-down man, something I’d never imagined or wanted?
A knock sounded.
“Yeah?” I hollered, turning.
She walked in like the queen of ice, regal and untouchable even though her cocoa skin itched my fingers to do a whole lot more than touch.
“Miss Verene.” I motioned toward the chair I expected she’d always spent part of her day in. “Have a seat.”
Determined to keep things professional, I nodded at her murmured thanks and didn’t watch as she sat, but claimed my own seat behind Uncle’s—my—desk.
Our gazes met atop the clutter, and the energy crackled like a livewire between us as it had done in the conference room earlier every time I caught her focus on my face. Sexual tension thick enough for a goddamn metaphoric knife.
I grinned and eased back in the chair. “How are you holding up?”
“Well enough, thank you for asking.” Controlled voice, controlled poise on the edge of her seat—but not perched like a little birdie ready for flight.
“You and Uncle were very close.”
“We were.”
“I appreciate your staying on as my PA even though you don’t need to with the inheritance he left you.”
“When you grow up on the streets, Mr. Rucker, you never truly feel safe or believe you have enough.”
Her honesty surprised and pleased me. “Call me Trip. Please.”
She nodded. “I will, but I insist you call me Rhonda in return.”
“I’d love nothing better.” A lie about what I really wanted, but she knew what I meant. “So, Rhonda, tell me about your relationship with my uncle.”
“I wasn’t fucking him.” The words tumbled out—unexpected, I assumed seeing as she snapped her jaw shut.
“Others thought so.”
Rhonda nodded, but held my gaze.
“Well, I don’t give a shit if you did or didn’t. Both consenting adults, and to be honest—” I allowed my focus to drop to her cleavage for a quick peek, “I wouldn’t blame my uncle for at least trying.”
Rhonda peered at me, her face a mask, but the pulse in her neck betrayed her.
“Are you married?” I asked when she didn’t comment.
“No.”
“In a relationship?”
“No.”
I lifted an eyebrow, wondering why the fuck not.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but work has been my life these past five years,” she finally said. “Well, that and earning my business degree.”
“Would you be willing to take over the business development job that asshole left open?
Her brow furrowed and smoothed within a heartbeat. “I’m sure there are other experienced men more than willing to submit an application for the position. I’m not exactly qualified.”
“The fuck you aren’t.” I leaned onto the desk, pushing trinkets and papers out of my way. “Uncle trusted you—I trust you—so I’m going to promote you.”
“Mr. Richards won’t be pleased,” she replied with a hint of a smile in her pale hazel eyes.
“Mr. Richards can go fuck himself.”
Rhonda smiled—and my goddamn heart burst into fucking flames.
“Fuck, you are one gorgeous lady.” The words poured out without a thought to sexual harassment or any of that shit.
Her smile melted, but she didn’t stiffen or appear angry.
“Sorry,” I said, sitting back. “I don’t have much of a filter on my mouth.”
“It’s okay. Louie was the same.” A hint of her smile returned.
I glanced at the clock. “I have to meet with more of the staff, but I would love to swap stories. Share memories.”
And saliva and bodily fluids.
“We can meet tomorrow—”
“Have dinner with me?” I cut her off.
She peered at me, her face returning to its mask state.
“I could use a friend,” I said. “Someone on my side, someone who knows this city. Gotta admit—” I grimaced “—I’m not one for city life. I could use a guide. A balm.”
One of her eyebrows shot upward. “Balm?”
“You know—to soothe. Make this goddamn
transition a bit easier.”
Rhonda’s lips pursed as she studied my face as though trying to read into my words.
“Dinner, Rhonda,” I said, my voice lowered. “And maybe a drink or two. I promise I won’t attempt to touch anything that’s not on the table—unless you ask me to.”
Chapter Six
Rhonda
His eyes said it all. He wanted to touch, to taste. My pussy set to work readying for his mouth, and I fought to not squirm beneath his steady focus.
I wanted him to touch, all right. A lot. With every inch of his skin against mine.
Damnit.
No would be the proper answer, but I missed Louie, and having found someone who cared for him as much as I had, I made a decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret.
“Just to share stories and reminisce,” I said. “Nothing more.”
“Fuck yeah.” He grinned, pulsing my pussy again, his damn eyes twinkling with mischief and lust.
“Where are you staying?”
“The Envoy.”
“They have a nice rooftop restaurant if you’d rather not drive your bike around the city.” I told myself I wasn’t making it easy to go back to his room, but I lied to myself. By the glint in his eye as he tipped his head slightly, I wondered if he knew.
“Seven?” he murmured, the deep tone of his voice tightening my nipples.
I agreed—and made my escape, wondering what the hell I’d set into motion.
****
The transfer of the condo and paperwork hadn’t been completed yet, but I was in no rush to move anyway. I’d spent countless hours at Louie’s and wasn’t yet ready to deal with a fresh onslaught of grief. Having lost my best friend, I allowed tears when needed, but I couldn’t stomach being in “our space” as he’d called his home.
Louie had collapsed on the living room floor right in front of me after whispering my name, a hand pressed to his temple. His pulse had faded beneath my fingertips as I’d held his head in my lap. I’d called 911, but Louie was gone before the EMTs arrived. Free of hated emotion, free of the need to speak to anyone, my Louie had rested in my arms.