by Savannah May
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Afterword
Also by Savannah May
Unjust Billionaire
Savannah May
BBU Productions
Copyright © 2017 by Savannah May
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.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Savannah May
1
It's never a good idea to meet your new boss for the first time, wearing a date-night outfit. A halter neck plunging to waist and sequined mini skirt, plus, eh-hem, no underwear. What in the name of all things trampy was I doing in the back of Jay Valentine's quadruple stretch limo without my panties?
The lack of coverage between my thighs was making my inner lips perky. They was still quivering from the cross-country flight and I couldn't put it down to jet lag. It had everything to do with the hot older hunk on the plane and the way he slid into the seat next to me when the lights went down.
Now I'd have to face down his complicit gaze every day, with our dirty little secret hanging between us and our new employer. Talk about blackmail stakes.
Okay I needed to calm down. If I were exposed, there was always the excuse that I'd been on a date with my boyfriend, the start of our farewell weekend, when the text came in from Valentine Winery saying I was required to take the flight that night. One excuse down, only ten more to go. The underwear, the mile high membership, dirty secrets not mine alone, but shared with the gorgeous Frenchie winemaker I was now traveling across the bridge with, on the way to Napa.
The older guy’s discreet smile said he was under the impression I made it a habit to go flying around the country panty-less. He had no clue that my boyfriend Josh had pocketed them with his demonic smile, after disciplining me in the underground wine cellar. My butt cheeks still smarted. But in spite of the sting across my flesh, my walls tugged and ached with the memory of the man I'd gotten too involved with.
I'd have to trust that Frenchie was a gentleman and would keep those scrumptious lips pursed with regard to my disappearing panties. Hey, it worked both ways. If he spilled on me, I always had the ammunition of exposing how he'd slipped into the seat beside me on the plane uninvited and taken my pussy by force. It was more or less true. I had put up a modicum of resistance, hadn't I? When I told him to leave me alone and go back to his seat even as he reached under the blanket and edged my skirt up my thigh. Yeah, that counts as saying no. Eh, hem.
I turtled my head down into the car’s soft Italian leather seat and tried to focus on the work ahead. I had to put on my best professional front during the meeting with Mr Valentine and then get back to business as usual. No more of these crazy adventures, at least not until Josh came out from New York to visit.
I smiled wistfully, thinking about how the man I'd been dating for the last few weeks would find my current situation highly amusing, stimulating even. I'd have to tell him about it some time when we were together again and playing the games he insisted on.
These were acts I'd never imagined myself doing before Josh and now couldn't get enough of. The spankings, the public exposure, performing for strangers. But still- all things I'd never be able to tell my mother about. She'd drummed it into me harder than a heavy metal band member that I was to be a good girl and not let any man take advantage of my body. She wouldn’t understand that I was taking advantage of it for myself, discovering the intense pleasures it could yield.
I was still smiling to myself, knowing I ought to be ashamed of my badness but instead reveling in it, when my phone beeped. While digging around in my purse for it, I caught Monsieur Frenchie's gaze, fixed on my legs. I stared back at him with my sternest schoolmarm look and checked the text that had come in, aware that his eyes were traveling the length of my exposed thigh. Speaking of the demonic- the text was from Josh back in the city.
Today you will do whatever your new master tells you to.
I'll be checking later.
What the-? I didn't know whether to laugh or be pissed. Josh had told me to remember who the master was while I was gone– him. And that he would have instructions for me from the opposite coast. It was our secret game, the way he was going to maintain our relationship while I was on the opposite side of the country, designing the winery's new tasting rooms. He’d play the boss in the bedroom even if I had a new one telling me what to do everywhere else.
I had been picturing a fair amount of Skype sex to keep me entertained in the valley and Josh dominating me virtually. It seemed he had other ideas. Oh well, how bad could it be? I'd already behaved as ravenously as the limits of decorum allowed, on the plane. My new boss would explain what he wanted and I'd get to work.
I entertained a teeny hope that I'd be able to slip into a washroom when we arrived and at least get some panties on, change my skirt. But no, the driver was good to his word when he picked us up, saying Mr Valentine insisted on me being brought to him immediately. He led us straight into the house when we arrived.
I use the term ‘house’ fairly loosely. The place was a freaking chateau of the French Loire variety and I felt like a complete peasant as we rode up the long drive through acre after acre of vineyards with the mansion growing larger all the way.
It was stunningly beautiful, old French style with vines growing around the tall double-doored windows
. The atrium was massive, marble lined and flowers arrangements bigger than closets on every table.
We followed Jose, our driver, down the wide walnut hall with light sconces shaped like doves flying from the walls to the double door at the end. He told us to wait while he went in to announce us to our new master. Frenchie stood across from me and met my eye with a conspiratorial smile. My core clenched with the enticing memory of his expert fingers inside me barely two hours ago.
“You may go in,” the chauffeur informed us and closed the doors behind us.
Valentine sat with his back to us behind a desk the size of Kentucky, gazing out on the vista of endless vineyards. The bright emerald leaves stretched away in pin straight rows and in the distance men were at work coaxing the fruit into abundance. As he rotated his chair to face us, I shivered slightly with the strange sensation of being in a James Bond movie when the bad guy turns and his face is a mass of scars and plastic surgery.
Except my premonition was the furthest from reality. Because OhMySweetBethusaleh, Valentine was gorgeous. My racing heart ping-ponged around my chest and I had to force my mouth to remain clamped shut. He was movie star delectable with sculptured features and swept back dark hair and, you know, magnetic presence that makes everything close by tingle. A shivery electro-static charged the air the instant he turned and my skin shivered all over from the ethereal connection.
Jay Valentine's eyebrows raised the tiniest bit as he took in my unorthodox outfit, but he was far too self-controlled to allow the smallest emotion to display across his proud wide jaw. The glinting dark blue eyes scoured across me in appreciation, setting out on their journey at my cleavage, moving down my thighs and back up again, very slowly, to meet mine. I hoped my cheeks weren't glaring as hot as they felt. My inner thighs were positively throbbing under his evaluation. Not good, not professional, not at all business-like, the way the flesh hugging around my entrance dampened so profusely.
“I'm Jay Valentine, I'm so glad you could join us at such short notice, Ms Cannon. I apologize for not being able to send my private jet for you both.”
His voice was gravel on sandpaper and echoed through my core. What the fuck was wrong with me that my inner lips were clenching and tweaking with attraction for my employer?
“Hi, Marc,” he greeted Frenchie, whose name I now finally learned. “Have you two been formally introduced?”
“Hi, pleased to meet, er, sir, yes, er, we have.”
Great going, girlfriend, way to bungle the first meeting. Panty-less and stuttering.
My paramour was at least in control of his tongue and the words rolled off it, Gallic smooth.
“Jay, thank you for inviting me to your exquisite chateau. Yes, I did have the pleasure of Ms Cannon on the flight.” Bastard.
“Very good, and now the pleasure is all mine,” Valentine insisted. Was I imagining the glare of insistence he threw at Chapelle? “I opened an '02,” he continued, “It should have breathed enough by now. Join me, then I'll have Anders show you to your room and we can talk more at dinner.”
I knew how the wine felt and breathed my own huge sigh at the unexpectedly short and easy introduction, over a glass of the most ambrosial liquid I'd ever tasted. When we turned to follow the manager to our rooms however, Valentine wasn't about to let me off so easily.
2
“One moment, Ms Cannon. I'd like to explain a few of my pre-requisites before you go to your quarters.” I turned and waited. It was hard not to keep staring at the floor like a naughty schoolgirl about to be punished. I so, so wanted to look at him and drink in his rugged beauty but didn't dare. He was too imposing and I didn’t trust my face not to betray me by turning seven shades of sunset again.
“I've heard a great deal about you,” he said, once we were alone in the room.
“Really, who from?” I blurted out. In truth, I still couldn't believe I'd scored this incredible job and would be living in this palace for months with a prince among men. What fairy tale had I landed in?
“Around, here and there.” He shrugged. “Are you excited by this job?”
“Oh yes, very much.” I wished he had selected any other word than 'excited', which stimulated a reaction between my naked lips with another leak of juices. “And I'd be glad to hear whatever requirements you have of me before I get started?”
Crap, that sounded way too lewd.
“How very gracious of you,” he said, his eyes searching mine and a luscious grin curling the edges of lips that were pillows for angels.
He was making me jittery nervous and I was blowing it already. This was a billionaire winemaker with estates around the world, not some new homeowner in Schenectady.
“I was intrigued by your unorthodox design- the modernist glass facade you want to attach to the back of my chateau. I love a paradox whether in buildings or character.” He eyed me so intently shivers ran along my arms and down the inside of my thighs.
“I thought the glass wall with turf roof would bring you right into the new millennium,” I said.
“And your concept for the interior held darker elements, while the other candidates all submitted the standard sunshine and pot plant plans.”
“I do try to stay away from the standard.” At the last instant some instinct perverted my lips from saying 'vanilla'. No reason to give my new boss any inkling of my new-found proclivities.
“Hmmm. I will share my requirements with you shortly,” he continued, ravaging me with glittering eyes of deepest twilight. “But first, you must understand that I need a particular type of designer for this project. Do you think you can be that person?”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” I replied. I was sure I could be whatever he wanted in order to make this job a success.
“I had heard that you were very amenable but I have to see it for myself. So before I explain to you the full extent of the contract, I want to see you naked.”
I opened my mouth to speak but shock stopped all words from coming out. I almost laughed except his face was stone serious.
“Your breasts are astounding and I want to see them,” he continued, patient and matter-of-fact. “It's a simple enough command.”
I had the distinct impression that he would have what he wanted with my compliance or otherwise.
“Is this some kind of joke?” I spluttered. “Or a test? Because I don't think it's either funny or politically correct,” continuing prim and proper, while thinking how much I'd love to get naked for this dangerously attractive guy.
His eyes foraging across the landscape of my body were making my pussy quiver and drench. He thought my breasts were amazing- he who could afford any tits in the entire world wanted mine. The prospect of giving them to him produced a thrill that rocked right through me. It would be so exhilarating to beat him at his own game, strip off and shock him with my nakedness under the outfit. He thought he was in control but would discover that he had met an equal in the game. This was the weirdest first day on the job in the history of design consultations.
“It's neither a joke or a test. I simply want you to show me your body so I know whether we'll be able to work effectively together.”
“That's crazy. My body has nothing to do with how we'll work together. I have no intention of showing you my breasts.” I half-spluttered, even as my nipples expanded and sent waves of pleasure through my chest with the exhilarating idea of slipping them out of the fabric encasing them.
“I see. Then you are not the woman I though you were, Ms Cannon.” Jay Valentine entwined his powerful fingers on top of the desk and regarded me closely. He was obviously not a man accustomed to being refused. “You can of course decline the position and you'll be free to go back to New York.”
“We have a signed contract,” I said, the threat suddenly firing my anger. “I'm here to work for you for up to six months or completion.”
Shit- I'd given up my job back home and counted on this contract to make my name. Josh had assured me the Valentine winery
was guaranteed to get into all the magazines and as the head designer, my future was secured. I'd imagined starting my own interior design practice – my fantasy even extended to Josh and I going into partnership. These were all my future dreams that hinged on completing this job satisfactorily. A bad word from Jay Valentine in the industry would ruin me permanently.
“I’m aware that we have a contract, however if you refuse to comply with my- requirements- I am quite content to buy you out of it and find a designer who will,” he informed me. “That was a codicil if you read it through thoroughly.”
Excuse me? Waves of fury bustled through me. He was willing to pay me all the money for the next six months to release me from the contract. It was my fault, I'd started that stuff about his requirements. Neither myself nor the lawyer that checked over the work contract had even dreamed it would include this. And he knew it wasn't about the money, I wanted the prestige of this job. And now I was also getting an inkling that I wanted him. Which was crazy because I was supposed to be dating someone back home, but you can’t help the pulsations your body sets up.
He continued to regard me with a stunningly perfect face of stone. And into my lava flow of outrage, merged spasms of tantalizing greed. It wasn't so much showing him my body and feeling his admiration, as much as I craved his power over me. His potency was a force that sizzled electric through the entire cavernous office space, filling the room and overwhelming it- and me. Being ordered to strip and show him my breasts was somehow enthralling.