“Get a room.” A voice echoed across the parking lot.
Ruby didn’t even care that they’d been seen. She could have gone on kissing and touching Holt forever. But he pulled her wrists down.
“Don’t be greedy,” he whispered against her mouth.
She wanted to scream. She’d never had a man who could wait so effortlessly. Usually they were dying to get into her panties. But Holt was different. She couldn’t control him. She couldn’t seduce him. But oh did he have the power to seduce her. If she’d realized that four years ago...
“You’re not ready,” he said, his body still plastered to hers, the evidence of his desire hard against her.
“You are,” she pointed out.
He stepped back, grinning. “I’ve waited a long time. I’m not going to ruin all my plans in the heat of the moment.”
Plans? Ruby liked the idea that he’d been formulating a plan, maybe even for years. Holt Montgomery wanted her. To him, she wasn’t disposable. A thrill shot through her. “What plan?” she practically begged to know.
He chucked her under the chin. “You’ll have to wait and see. And don’t try to rush me.”
Then he sauntered an aisle over to his parking spot. And left her.
Ruby was hot, she was wet, and she was completely seduced. For the first time, a man had wrested the upper hand from her, and she was completely willing to let him have it.
Chapter Seven
Saturday was interminable. Ruby missed work, mostly because she missed Holt. The cramped hotel room drove her crazy. Yet she couldn’t make herself log onto the computer and start apartment hunting. Ruby was generally aware of why she did things—or didn’t do them, as the case may be. But she couldn’t say exactly why her fingers wouldn’t move on the keyboard. It wasn’t about making Clay pay. It wasn’t that she didn’t like change. She loved change.
Ruby admitted she had a small issue with getting bored too easily, which was why she spent most of the day going through her clothes, trying them on, and tossing out a bunch of stuff she didn’t want anymore. She liked new, and Holt had definitely provided that. Besides, the hotel room was too damn small for all her suitcases. She piled the cast-offs into the Beemer and trundled them down to Goodwill. She was sure they didn’t get stuff like that every day.
But when she got back to the hotel, she was...bored. Yet she still couldn’t make herself look at apartments. Weekends had never bored her before, but everything felt a little colorless without Holt. How could that have happened in only a matter of days? Hmm, wasn’t it odd that her job with Holt had never bored her, not even for a second? Holt sizzled with energy, and it rubbed off on everyone around him.
As day turned to night and the endless evening wore on, she thought about going down to the hotel bar for a drink. Bad idea. She might very well get herself into trouble, so she ran a bath instead. At ten she was soaking beneath a layer of bubbles and sipping a glass of her favorite chardonnay. She thought about touching herself, but Holt hadn’t given her permission. Of course, he’d never know if she did it, but it was rather delicious to be thinking about sex without being able to give herself relief, heightening the need, especially with Holt running the show for her.
Her cell phone rang.
“Dammit,” she muttered. She’d left it on the bedside table. It was probably Clay. Except that Clay wouldn’t bother calling her at ten on a Saturday night. He wouldn’t bother calling her at all. That meant it could only be—
She almost slipped rushing out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, she was dripping water in a path to the bed, but the phone had stopped ringing. Double damn. Then her message notification lit up the screen.
Pushing the button, she waited a moment as the cell connected, then keyed in her password, and it was as she’d hoped.
Her pulse beat faster as she listened to Holt’s message. “Why aren’t you answering your phone, Ruby? Are you doing something you need to be punished for?” He sounded mildly amused, then his tone grew harsh. “You better be on my front doorstep by ten thirty or you will suffer the consequences.”
He wanted her to drop everything and rush over at ten o’clock like she had nothing better to do? He was so damn dictatorial.
Ruby couldn’t dress fast enough. The ends of her hair were still damp from the tub when she started her car. Her makeup was perfect, but she wore a comfy old pair of sweats that no one except Clay had ever seen her in. She hoped the outfit—which was the furthest thing from seductive and didn’t follow any of Holt’s strictures—would enflame him to the point of tearing everything off. Then he’d find the sexy little zebra print thong beneath. Thinking about all the possibilities, she was wet before she’d even pulled out of the Marriott’s parking lot and delirious with need by the time she turned into Holt’s circular drive.
He lived in a modest bungalow in the affluent neighborhood of Atherton. The low-slung house, with a two-car garage on one end, was fronted by a short hedge of azaleas and a brick walkway leading to the stoop. The windows were double pane, all made with West Coast’s low-e film.
He opened the door wearing a pair of jeans she’d seen him in only at company picnics. The faded material cupped and caressed his cock. Ruby’s mouth watered for a taste.
“How dare you issue orders to me in a phone message.” She glared at him, trying to pretend he didn’t make her breathless.
“Then you should have answered my call.” Holding the door, he barred her entry. “Where were you, Ruby?”
To lie or not to lie? What would have the greater impact? “A nice young man was just about to pick me up in the hotel bar when you interrupted.” She smiled. “My hotel room was empty.”
He grinned, baring his teeth. “Bitch,” he said mildly.
“Asshole,” she countered.
He imprisoned her wrist and hauled her inside. “You get points for being honest,” he said, pulling her along behind him as he crossed the living room.
It was a good house for entertaining, with a large brick fireplace, leather furniture, and modern glass-and-chrome tables. The dining room made the short end of the living room’s L, the kitchen to the right and the bedroom hallway off to the left. That’s where he took her. Her flat-heeled sandals slapped on the hardwood floor as he forced her past a guest room, bathroom, and his home office, which were all along the back of the house. His bedroom door was last on the left, but he pulled her into the room opposite.
While she’d attended Holt’s parties, acting the hostess for him, arranging the caterers, et cetera, she’d never been this far back in the house. She wondered if his bedroom was filled with sterile, modern furniture as well, but he didn’t give her the chance to find out as he kicked the door of the workout room closed behind them. Equipment filled every available space: weight bench, treadmill, bike, rowing machine, and more. No wonder he was so fit.
Without stopping a beat, he hauled her to the massage table in the room’s center. “Get up on here.”
When she didn’t move fast enough, he put his hands to her waist and set her on the padded surface, forcing her to sit with her feet dangling.
“You don’t need to be so rough,” she groused, but her body tingled with how easily he lifted her and the lingering feel of his touch.
“What did he look like?”
“Who?”
“The man who tried to pick you up.”
She’d momentarily forgotten her lie. “Hot and sexy.” She pouted for him, gratified when his gaze dropped to the lushness of her red lips.
Holt shook his head. “You’re pushing it, my sweet.”
She didn’t know why the term sent a wave of heat through her. Perhaps it was hearing endearments from Holt’s lips. She’d never cared about all that, but, as with everything else in the past few days, Holt made it all new, all desirable.
He bent, grasped both her ankles in one hand, pulled her legs up, and whirled her around on the table. The move was so fast, she fell back prone. Holt didn’t waste a moment of her d
izziness, and before she could pull free, he had one of her wrists handcuffed. She’d barely opened her mouth to protest when he had her other wrist cuffed to the table as well.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I did mention consequences,” he reminded her affably.
She kicked at him when he went for one of her feet, but he easily imprisoned her ankle. In seconds she was completely bound to the table. She hadn’t even noticed the manacles when she’d first walked in. The inside of the cuffs were lined with a soft material so her wrists and ankles weren’t chafed, and each had a chain long enough to allow her a small amount of movement. “But I didn’t do anything.”
He shook his head sadly, as if he were gazing at a disobedient child. “We both know you would have if I hadn’t called when I did.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she’d lied. No one had ever tied Ruby down—unless she’d asked for it first. No one ever threatened or bullied. If anyone had asked her, she’d have said she’d hate it. She liked being in charge of her men. She liked being in charge period. Yet Holt was once again showing her another exciting possibility.
Ruby shut her mouth, then growled low in her throat. Like Marge Simpson when Homer had done something really bad. It promised retribution.
“Good. You’ll keep your mouth closed until I tell you to open it.” He trailed a finger down her thigh. “Unless you want me to gag you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she snapped. But she wondered how it would feel to be tied, blindfolded, gagged, and at his complete mercy. Hmm. At his mercy, she could deal with—she might even love it—but she wanted to see it all and talk back to him, egg him on.
“Push me and find out.” Then he backed off, heading to a narrow cupboard along the wall. Pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked it.
Ruby sucked in a breath. The open doors revealed paddles, dildos, vibrators, manacles, blindfolds, floggers, and a host of instruments whose uses were a mystery. Holt held up a device with a ball and two straps on the end. “It’s a ball gag. If you continue to piss me off, I’ll use it.”
“You’re diabolical,” she murmured. Then she smiled at him snidely. “But I can’t see you doing much since you left all my clothes on.”
In a flash, he held up a shiny pair of scissors.
Good God, he’d thought of everything. Then her skin chilled. How many women had he brought to this room? How many women had he done this very same thing with?
Ruby wanted to be the first. She hated knowing she wasn’t. Then again, he’d become the man he was because of his past. She might not be the first. But she would be the best.
She would be the one he couldn’t toss away afterward.
* * * * *
Emotions seethed through Ruby’s cool exterior. Holt had brought other women to this room. He’d unlocked his little treasure trove, used some of the devices on those willing partners, and he’d gotten the desired high.
But he’d never felt like this: sizzling, his blood on fire, his skin ready to spontaneously combust. His cock was hard enough to go off with a single touch. His balls ached with images of impaling her even as she was cuffed to the table.
But that was moving too fast. And giving Ruby exactly what she wanted—his loss of control.
Now that she was his, he stalked her, rounding the table, waving the scissors.
“You’ll have to replace whatever you ruin,” she groused.
“I’ve already bought you new clothes.” He was dying to see her in them on Monday, dying to lift her skirt and do dirty things to her over his desk.
“Where to begin?” he mused, trailing the scissors down the front of her sweatshirt. Ruby glared at him, a sexy glare that immediately got his blood boiling and his cock hard.
He started at the right wrist of her sweatshirt and cut all the way to the shoulder. The skin he revealed was smooth and scented. Ruby pursed her lips as he rounded the head of the table and started on the other sleeve.
“It would have been easier to make me take off my clothes first.”
Holt sighed as he cut. “You’re always in such a rush. That’s part of your problem.”
Her eyes flared. She didn’t like that. “I don’t have a problem.”
“You do. You’re always rushing to the next new thing, and you forget to savor what you have.” Snip, snip, snip, and the neckline of the sweatshirt fell free. He pulled it down to uncover her breasts. Her nipples peaked against the zebra-striped bra. “Nice,” he whispered. He wanted to suck her through the material. But unlike Ruby, he wasn’t going to rush.
She wriggled on the table. “I certainly haven’t rushed anything with you.”
He tugged on the bottom of the shirt, holding it for the scissors, cutting first one side, then the other, until he could simply left the front of it right off her. He stood back a moment to take in her perfect breasts and the silky skin of her abdomen. “You’ve been rushing the whole time, trying to get me to fuck you.”
She gasped. “I have not.”
But he knew her, and he’d sensed what she wanted. “If I’d let you, you’d have dragged me into the backseat of your BMW last night.”
Her gaze was fiery. “I couldn’t have cared less. I’m just playing this game so you don’t fire me.”
He laughed and put a hand between her legs, palm against her sex. “Is that why you’re all warm and moist down here?”
“I just got out of the tub.” She flattened her lips.
“You claimed you were down in the bar picking up men.” He’d known she was lying, trying to goad him. He’d have restrained her like this no matter what she’d been doing.
But Ruby wasn’t giving in yet. “Then that’s why I’m wet.”
He didn’t go for the bait but instead backed down the length of the table and began cutting the legs of her sweats. He moved swiftly, methodically, then stripped the material off her. It was easy enough to peel away the two underside pieces.
“Very nice,” he said, surveying the matching zebra thong. There was only a light thatch of pubic hair showing through the thin material. Ruby was trimmed but not bare.
“Now what?” Her voice was disinterested, but he knew better.
“Spread your legs.” The table was wide enough, the manacles long enough, but Ruby didn’t move. Holt pushed her feet apart at the ankles.
“I suppose you’re going to pretend to rape me or something.”
He just smiled. Then he headed back to the cabinet, where he kept his sex toys locked away. He didn’t entertain often; this was primarily his workout room. When his daughter visited, she liked to use it, too. She was thirty-three and didn’t have a prudish bone in her body, but he was old-fashioned in that way and didn’t want her seeing the things he kept in the cupboard.
He chose his instrument carefully, a thick no-frills vibrator with an adjustable speed dial at the base. He’d bought it especially for Ruby, for this night.
By the time he returned to the table, she’d closed her legs, and her gaze had turned wary. “What are you going to do?”
Holt leaned down next to her ear and tantalized her with a puff of breath. “I’m going to make you come until you scream. So many times that your legs won’t hold you up when I’m done.”
“And you need to handcuff me for that?”
“Oh yeah.” He turned on the vibrator at its base and touched it to her nipple. Ruby jerked. “It’s going to be so intense, you’ll try to get away. But I’m not going to let you.” He licked her earlobe, blew on the moist shell, and felt her shiver. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad.”
Chapter Eight
Ruby’s entire body quivered beneath the buzz of the vibrator on her nipple. She wanted to beg him to do it all now. He was so damn slow about everything, and she was already completely wild and crazy. With every snip of the scissors, the cool metal along her flesh, with his hot gaze on her, his breath against her hair, his tongue on her ear, and that one touch of his hand between her legs—God, yes, s
he was absolutely insane before he’d even truly started. Do it now, she wanted to scream at him. She’d waited all night and all day. Didn’t he know?
Ruby closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply, willing her body to calm down. “Whatever,” she muttered, feigning disinterest. “I’ve used plenty of vibrators.” She had a feeling Holt would give new meaning to the word vibrator.
He circled her nipples, and electricity shot straight to her pussy.
“They need to be a little more moist,” he said, a trace of amusement in his voice, as if he knew how hard she was fighting not to quiver and quake and beg.
He undid the bra’s center clasp, pushed the cups apart, and when he put his lips on her, she barely stopped the moan in her throat. He licked both nipples. They pearled in the cool air as he stepped back. “Perfect.” Then he circled them once more with the vibrator.
“How wet does that make you, Ruby?” he asked softly.
Her nipples were sensitive, as if they had a direct line down between her legs. She’d been wet before; now she was sure she was dripping. She made a strangled sound, half chuckle, half snort, because he was making her feel exactly the way he wanted her to—crazy.
“Just get on with it,” she said, hoping for a bored note, but the words came out with an almost desperate tinge.
He sucked on the end of the vibrator, then trailed it down her belly to her pubis. Her legs were spread, and she almost arched into the toy. He let it glide lightly over her pussy, and her body spasmed at the contact. She didn’t come, but she was close, needy. And he hadn’t even removed her panties yet.
It wasn’t the vibrator between her legs that made her nuts; it was Holt and everything he did to her, how he made her feel inside, and maybe because he held so much back as well, never giving in to her the way other men did. It was such a potent mixture.
Submitting to the Boss: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 2 Page 5