Elle's Seduction

by Abby-Rae Rose

  Maxwell knew he was right. His own brand of deviance wouldn’t allow him to have plain vanilla sex. No, he needed the excitement of a woman, or man for that matter, at her knees before him, taking his will and whatever else he wanted to give her. He loved breaking in new submissives, loved seeing them awaken to their own powers and the pleasure that awaited them.

  “She’d be a challenge,” Maxwell murmured.

  “Is it worth breaking her spirit for?”

  Maxwell knew Darren’s crassness and brash language was all just to bring him out of his reverie. He’d been getting restless lately. With X Toyz launch, he was taking the first step toward setting up roots and he wanted more. There would be plenty of women out in L.A. for him to choose from —- women who knew what they were getting into. Women who could handle all of him, even the deviant part.

  Straightening up, Maxwell shook his head. “No, you’re right. It’s not worth it. Elle’s meant for some southern boy who can give her lots of babies and a house in the ‘burbs.”

  “That’s right. Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  Maxwell nodded and grabbed his suitcase. He needed to give himself space, loose himself in The Den for the weekend. This time next week, he’d have completely forgotten about this strange ache in his chest. He just had to get through tonight and this stupid dinner that Zackary insisted they attend.

  ***

  An hour after leaving Darren and Maxwell, Elle still hadn’t come down from her high.

  Even as she was leaving, Fred followed her out to thank her again. Unfortunately, she’d also seen Sally on the way out. She’d made some snide remark about having everyone in the palm of her hand before dumping a report in Elle’s arms with instructions to have it completed by the morning.

  At home, Elle grabbed a quick snack and called Garfield to see what he was doing for dinner. Satisfied he wouldn’t starve himself and was in fact with old Miss Sutter playing gin rummy and eating dip, Elle stripped her suit off and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Being a high-powered executive had been fun, exhilarating. As empowering as it had been to take charge, she couldn’t help but feel she’d let Maxwell and Darren down. It was something indefinable but somehow they had looked at her differently when she’d left that room today. There was a coldness in Darren’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, almost like he’d completely shut himself off from her, while Maxwell simply had ignored her, focusing on his notes and typing into his computer. She’d effectively been shut out.

  Naked in front of her closet, she pushed her clothes one by one across the rack. Tonight she needed to feel sexy. Maybe something that showed off her legs and some cleavage. If Maxwell and Darren were turned off by her performance, so be it. There were plenty of other fish to fry.

  She didn’t have much time and it was a rush to finish and get to the small Japanese restaurant five blocks away on South Street. She cringed as she realized the seats may be low to the ground in the traditional Japanese fashion. Her skirt wouldn’t be able to handle crisscrossed knees. Once inside, she was relieved to see regular sized tables.

  Luke greeted her as she came in. “Finally, you’re here. I’ve saved you a seat.”

  Inside the dining room, they were escorted to a separate area enclosed in rice panes. Six long, narrow tables were setup lengthwise across the room. People had paired off to sit across from each other.

  “I’ve saved you a space next to me,” Luke whispered, his hand at her back and his demeanor more like a waiter than a friend.

  Elle didn’t mind. Luke had always been very formal and she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to sit next to Fred, which she’d felt certain would happen. Luke didn’t care for Fred. Luke pointed to the two seats he’d saved —right across from Darren and Maxwell.

  Before she knew it, she was seated across from Maxwell; her knees brushing his under the table.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” she whispered. This would be a tough evening.

  Chapter Four

  Damn the woman. Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?

  Maxwell Stranton shifted in his hard seat, his dress slacks tight and uncomfortable under the table. He was miserable—the small bit of time he’d had after work at The Den had done nothing to assuage his needs. His concentration had been on one curly, honey brown-haired nymph with a cute round face and jade green eyes that sparked at him in challenge.

  Curvaceous as hell from her strong shapely calves and grip-worthy hips to her full, tantalizing breasts; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Even now, with the dark light and the candles, he watched, hoping for just one glimpse of a smile, just the barest hint of those small, pearly teeth peeking out from her plump lips and the flash of those cute dips in her cheeks.

  Dimples.

  Fuck. Those things were going to be the death of him. He’d dreamed about them, fantasized about all the things he could do to her to get those dimples to flash at him.

  No smiles tonight though.

  Fred—the moron—had decided to spend what amounted to a ludicrous amount of money to invite everyone to this evening meal at this ridiculously overpriced and uncomfortable restaurant. The place couldn’t even have a reasonable table. Instead, they had just two feet and a few inches between them, so narrow that everyone was struggling to get comfortable without touching.

  Attending this event had been the last of many mistakes directly tied to his attraction to Elle. The millionth of which was allowing himself to be seated across from this little mouse of a woman—the one woman he couldn’t have unless some miracle happened.

  The brief glimpse at submission he’d seen yesterday had gone to the wayside today. He’d have to face the fact that she was no submissive. She’s a sexy little kitten with powerful claws and a dominant streak a mile wide. No, he should give her up and let her find happiness with a man who wouldn’t drag her into his depravities.

  He hated it when Darren was right.

  His held his breath as her leg brushed against his under the table. The caress, soft and light, just the touch of silk clad insole against his own legs, made him swallow. She was innocent—a country bumpkin complete with bunny slippers and a warm flannel nightgown. She was the kind you took home to your mother.

  As he watched her, he caught the brief glance she sent his way—a spark of hunger and a brief apologetic smile—those dimples flashing like a primal red flag to his lust. The flush spreading along her cheeks sent his libido into overdrive even as he felt her knees clamp together under the table.

  Only two feet separated them—closer than a dining room table. Others around them laughed as they adjusted for leg space under the table. Not his little country mouse though, she sat back from the table, refusing to engage. The chance to play with her just a little was too much—like a cat with a favorite toy. Maxwell couldn’t resist her.

  Reaching under the table, he slid his hand down his leg. Slow. He didn’t want to spook her. This wasn’t a dark bedroom or The Den, he wanted to shock her but only a bit. His fingers met the smooth fabric covering her knees, binding them tightly together. He fingered the material, his touch light and tentative, and the skirt inching up to reveal the edge of her knees.

  Her head snapped up, those green eyes glittering.

  Entranced, he watched her as he jerked the last of the material up and slid it back. He raised an eyebrow at the quiet squeak and dared her to say anything—even as the sounds all around them continued. It was just the two of them, caught in the tableau, unable to breathe or stop the inevitable slide of his hands up her knees.

  The material did his bidding, allowing him access to her thighs. Her eyes widened as his hand slid between them. Yet she continued to stay silent, never saying a word, her mouth slightly open and eyes glazing over. He couldn’t have asked for a more responsive woman. Just his touch had her on edge.

  The rough skin of his fingers dragged against the slick hosiery as he slid up her inner thigh, spread her legs, and invited her to relax. Her thighs tre
mbled at his touch, tightening, even as he pushed them apart. His knee wedged between her legs and held them apart as he memorized the soft skin of her inner thighs.

  He wanted to linger, to reach further up and feel the hot heat of her. He wondered if she would already be hot and ready or if he would have to play with her, bringing her to the edge before she gave into her baser desires. Before he could be too tempted, he moved his hands around and neatly folded her skirt over her thighs.

  Respectable once again, he hid all emotion from his face as he watched her relax. She swallowed and took a deep breath, her thighs letting up on their death grip on his knee. Before she figured out what he was up to, he reached around and grasped the legs of her chair, jerking the chair under the table.

  With a startled gasp, her thighs opened and he slid his knee and leg between. Her body shuddered at the impact of the chair settling and his knee so close to her core. She sat there for several seconds, her body tense and tight around his leg.

  Finally, when he made no further move, she closed her eyes and groaned —a small sound of capitulation—and relaxed. She opened up her mouth and seemed about to respond when Fred’s grating voice resounded through the room. “So I’ve brought you all here today for the launch of a brand new product—”

  Maxwell ignored Fred’s rambling and shifted his knee again, just brushing the heat of her. He loved the blooming fire in her gaze. He was thinking of other delicious things he might do to taunt her, giving into his small seduction, when something was slammed down between them covered in black cloth.

  A murmur rose from the table.

  Fred shushed everyone. “Ladies and gentleman! The future of Z Toyz.” He motioned to the men located around the room and the black cloths were lifted to reveal a large square glass frame with several worms crawling around against the glass. Ants also took up residence and were building a rather large ant hill.

  Gasps and shrieks ran up the table as several chairs toppled to the floor. Fred shouted in glee at the reactions. “I give you Vermilcitude!”

  “Christ. No.” Maxwell groaned as he realized exactly what this was —a huge black hole. No wonder money was disappearing left and right from Zackary’s company.

  “This is an exciting new toy that mixes the needs of our environment and the education of our children in a fun and exciting new way.”

  Murmurs faded as each person stared at their Vermilcitude Farm. Maxwell couldn’t believe it. Worms. Fred’s idea of innovation was worms. “This had better be good.”

  Fred nervously glanced up and down the table. He motioned for several plates to be brought out. Each plate held wilted lettuce and potatoes. “Each farm is opened from the top. There you can put your compost and then voila, you can watch what happens as the worms and other organisms digest the vegetables.”

  Elle leaned forward and frowned. “This is going to be a long, slow process.”

  Seconds passed as some of the people put the vegetables in their farms and others just stared at the glass, unable to comprehend what they were to say or do. Maxwell felt sick. How on earth could Fred think that anyone would want to sit and watch insects and worms eat refuse?

  And they had to look at that through their dinner. Maxwell cursed under his breath as he met Darren’s eyes. He wasn’t sitting here through this. Fred had overstepped his authority and was about to take Z Toyz and his brother Zackary’s name with it. He couldn’t allow that.

  Lost in thought, he almost missed Elle’s voice across the table.

  “Oh. My. God. No.” Elle sat staring at the farm in front of them, her face white.

  They’re just ants and worms,” Maxwell stated, disgust making him impatient and rude.

  “No, it’s not that,” Elle replied pointing at the side of the frame. “If I’m not mistaken, they’re escaping!”

  Up and down the table, chairs toppled and women and men lurched away.

  The ants continued to scurry in their little farms as, one by one, they escaped their chamber. Elle didn’t think twice, she burrowed into her purse and pulled her mace. She might not get all of them but she’d keep them from escaping.

  Chapter Five

  Maxwell pushed his chair out and flipped his phone open. He waved at their ant farm and her mace. “Good thinking. Thank God someone has a lick of sense around here.”

  “Excellent idea,” Luke said beside her. “I’ll get trash bags. Just try to contain them.”

  “Bloody hell!” Darren threw down his napkin and flung himself out of his chair. “Fred!”

  Careful not to spray directly across but down, Elle began going up and down the now empty table, spraying the edges of each of the farms. Ants curled on their sides and stilled at the onslaught even as she realized she couldn’t get all of them. The owner arrived to the chaos and spoke in rapid-fire Japanese to Fred who was blustering about trying to calm the man down.

  As Luke came out with trash bags, Maxwell took charge. “Darren, you speak Japanese. Go talk to the man and tell him we’ll take care of it. Fred, get over here and help Elle and Luke clean this mess up.”

  Seconds ticked by as the room evacuated and things quieted. Darren had managed to quiet the owner and several of the staff were pulling plates and mopping up behind Elle and Luke’s cleanup efforts. Within moments, the floor was mopped and every available surface was washed down.

  Zackary Stranton arrived in grand style, his coat fluttering out behind him. At 6’2 his resemblance to Maxwell was startling. Those normally kind brown eyes that she remembered from the couple of meetings she’d seen him in, were hard and tight.

  “Fred. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Elle strung up the last trash bag and edged her way toward the door. A frigid voice behind her stopped her in her tracks. “Leaving, Elle?”

  Maxwell stood, fresh and cool in his pressed black slacks and Egyptian cotton shirt, the epitome of wealth and elegance. His brother’s entrance had just reiterated to her how far removed she was from the Stranton family. She needed to remember that —she was Blue Grass and country while he was linen elegance and classical music. No matter what the friction was between them, there was a world of difference between her life and his. And the anger in his eyes told her that he wasn’t a man to fool with tonight.

  “Just taking the last of the bags to the trash.”

  “Don’t you want to see what happens to Fred and your little pet project?”

  Elle opened and closed her mouth. “Our project?”

  “Surely, you knew his plans.” Maxwell nudged her toward the door and privacy, passing the bag off to Luke as he scurried by.

  Alone, Elle tried to hold back her racing heart. She had to swallow to speak past the rapid pounding of her pulse. “What are you talking about?”

  Maxwell backed her into a wall and smiled though his lips were tight and vengeful. “I’m talking about this game you’re playing. One minute, sweet and innocent, the next practically leading Fred around by a leash.”

  “I don’t—”

  ***

  Maxwell shushed her with one strong finger. “I don’t like games so let me ask you straight: Did you or did you not know about tonight’s surprise?”

  Overwhelmed by the heat of him so close, Elle had to concentrate very hard on his question. Licking her lips, she tried to regain her footing only to be shocked when his eyes followed her. A groan escaped him as his fingers traced her lips.

  Mesmerized by the power that one sound gave her, she couldn’t help but flick her tongue out over the questing finger. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d sucked his finger in her mouth, showing him exactly what she imagined he’d really like.

  “Elle...”

  Becoming bolder, she nipped his finger and soothed it with her mouth, imitating the intimacy of other acts. Forbidden acts. He was the boss’s brother. She was walking a thin line. Finally she released his finger, surprised to find herself nearly panting in achy need. She didn’t like games either. “Mr. Stranton, you’re
probably the sexiest man I’ve ever met. But I don’t play games.”

  Maxwell jerked his hard gray eyes up and met hers. “Answer me then. Did you know about this? About the money spent on this little venture of Fred’s?”

  Elle didn’t waste any time. She was probably a passing fancy of his. No reason to get her hopes up and expect more. He just wanted the truth out of her and was probably using her attraction to him to get it. “I didn’t know about Fred’s worm farm or the expenditures. Fred is my boss—that’s it. And there’s no doubt he’s the one in charge. I’m just good at presentations.”

  “You looked very comfortable being in charge,” he murmured, a perplexed look creasing his brow.

  “I’ve had lots of practice.”

  Maxwell stepped closer, pushing back a curl from her face. “So all that attitude and the PowerPoint presentation...”

  “It wasn’t an act. Fred gets overwhelmed and he sometimes just needs some help. It makes sense and with the promotion on the line…”

  A fierce concentration transformed his face as he put his arms on either side of her, using his height and size to push her flat against the wall. Her heart skittered and jerked into hyper drive as that look sent a thrill straight to her. In a swift move, he pulled her against him and tangled his hands in her hair, bending her back and pressing her into his hard body.

  The sensation of those hard thighs and the tingling of her scalp made her gasp. “Maxwell?”

  Frissons of pain sliced through her, making spikes of pleasure shoot through her nipples and straight to her core at the power and slight pulling of his fingers in her hair. She was aching, her breasts full from the feel of her body against his. If he could do that with all their clothes on, she was in trouble.