by Christa Wick
Former Olympic hopeful Katelyn Willow put aside her dreams of gold more than eight years ago. Now she's an unemployed charity analyst running three hours late for a job interview with the CEO of Griffin Holdings after being mugged. Bound and determined to have the interview anyway, she waits outside the private entrance to his Chicago offices.
Griffin Montgomery doesn't know what to make of the disheveled and slightly bruised woman waiting for him in the alley. The gentleman inside him wants to tuck her into his limo and safely escort her to her apartment, with the promise of an interview once another position opens up.
The man inside him just wants to take her in every position imaginable.
**********************
Copyright © 2012 by Christa Wick
Sveva font licensed from astype@myfonts. Cover art © Igor Stepovik@dreamstime. Use of licensed images is for illustrative purposes only and does not imply the model's endorsement of or participation in any or similar activities contained in this work of fiction. All persons and entities are fictional.
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Billionaire's Pet (Wicked Domination)
Standing on the alley side of a wrought iron gate in Chicago's financial district, Katelyn Willow stared down a long reflecting pool of polished obsidian. Flowers colored from ice pink to deep violet, their leaves a lush green, covered the water's surface. A spring breeze randomly plucked blossoms from the lone magnolia tree, its pink and white petals slowly sinking in the air to delicately litter the dark cobblestone courtyard. Beautiful and tranquil, the private garden of billionaire Griffin Montgomery contrasted as sharply with Katelyn as it did with the surrounding glass and steel buildings that looked down on the scene.
Dirt speckled her white blouse. The dark brown hair she had so carefully crafted that morning into lustrous waves cascading down to her shoulders was pulled back in a loose pony tail. A fresh bruise and scrapes curved along her jaw from where her face had met concrete three hours earlier. Silk nylons shredded by the same concrete hid at the bottom of the inside pocket of her leather satchel.
Not at all how or where Katelyn had envisioned arriving for her job interview, she just hoped the sour blonde at the security desk didn't call the cops and have her yanked from the alley before Montgomery's limo arrived.
She glanced at her watch, the glass cracked over the spot where the minute hand showed ten to six. From her research, she knew Montgomery was more or less a creature of habit. The local paparazzi had picked up on his use of the garden exit, camping out with their oversized lenses until he bought the whole alley from the city and had the photographers thrown in jail for trespassing.
Shifting her weight to her right leg, she winced and shifted it back. She looked down at her ankle, the flesh where the open-toed suede pump hugged the back of her foot swollen and so lumpy she almost welcomed the idea of a ride in the back of a cop car. The walk to the nearest rail station and then her apartment would be pure hell.
Metal flashed at the far end of the reflecting pool. She looked toward it, expecting to see a security guard exiting the building with his hand on his gun. Montgomery strolled out, his gaze hooking hers immediately. His eyes narrowed like a predator's as he walked the length of the pool. Reaching its edge, he rested his briefcase on it and approached the gate.
His hand disappeared into his pants pocket, an electronic lock disengaging a second later with a metallic click. The gate slowly rolled open and he stepped through. Folding his thick arms across his impressive chest, he stared at her.
Katelyn's face remained impassive as his gaze traveled over her body. She had studied pictures of the women photographed in public with Montgomery. Not because she wanted to tack his last name onto hers, but for purposes of tailoring a business look to styles he likely found aesthetic. She'd settled on the pumps, the color a red spice, a black skirt that narrowed down to a hemline just below her knees and a crisp white top with a tabbed collar and faux-pearl buttons. The look reflected back in the mirror that morning had worked.
Right then, with the impeccably dressed Griffin Montgomery scowling at her -- it didn't work at all.
Reaching the red pumps, his gaze lingered before slow crawling up the bare flesh of her legs and jumping to her face. "My four o'clock?"
Katelyn nodded. The unexpected heat in his expression unsettled her.
His eyes seemed to trace the bruise along her jaw and then his mouth flattened. "Hit by a bus?"
God, did she really look that bad?
Starting to smooth one of the pleats on her skirt, she stopped, squared her shoulders back and smiled instead. "Attempted mugging."
Reaching into her satchel, she began pulling her resume out, but he raised a hand to stop her.
"You should have called. I filled the position an hour ago."
She let go of the paper and dug deeper into the bag, coming up with the remains of her cell phone, its electronic guts spilling out of the hard plastic shell.
"Pity, I probably would have hired you." His gaze dropped again, circling her hips before seizing on her lower legs. "Still a runner, Katelyn?"
She tensed. Eight plus years had passed since she made the Olympic team as a middle-distance runner and then dropped out of the games and off the face of the earth. With the time lapse, it was a rare day anyone recognized her. Still, she should have expected it. Her resume had been filed two weeks ago, plenty of time for Montgomery's HR people to run a preliminary background check.
"Couple of times a week." She dropped the broken phone back into her satchel and snapped it shut. Hearing the sound of an engine, she glanced to her right and confirmed Montgomery's limo had just entered the alley. Knowing she had precious few seconds left to make her pitch, she looked at Montgomery and upped the wattage on her smile. "Are there any other positions available?"
One dark brow inched up his face, his jaw relaxing as he gestured at the limo rolling to a stop behind her. "Get in, we'll discuss on the drive."
"Drive?" Her grip on the satchel tightened as Montgomery reached alongside her to open the door.
"You wouldn't have gotten mugged if you drove here or took a cab. So you took the rail." He nodded at her ankle. "And I'm not letting you walk anywhere on that."
His hand landed casually on her hip. "Inside, Katelyn."
Moving past him, she caught a whiff of his cologne. Warm, heavy spices that smelled straight from her favorite bakery hit her stomach, reminding her she had missed lunch. Her eyes closed involuntarily and she reached out for the limo's roof to steady herself.
Montgomery's hand moved up to her waist, tightening his hold on her. "Not feeling faint, are you?"
She swiveled her head, looked at him and blinked, her body swaying slightly away from him. She'd seen him in pictures and on television, heard him speak a couple of times at congressional hearings, but his voice and appearance were different in person. The small, visible laugh lines around his mouth and eyes made him more human and his voice, set against the backdrop of his quiet garden, had a tone too intimate for her body to ignore.
She shook her head, swallowing before she answered so she wouldn't squeak at him. "I'm fine."
Holding one palm against her back, Montgomery took her hand and folded her carefully into the back seat of the limo like he was storing one of the Ming vases she knew he collected.
"I'll judge for myself." He slid in next to Katelyn and nodded at the driver who stood outside waiting to close the door. "My case is by the pool."
"Very good, sir." The man shut the door and walked a quick line to the garden and back.
Straightening her skirt, Katelyn smiled at her host. "Really, Mr. Montgomery, I'm okay."
Leaning forward, he opened the door to a small refrigerator. Taking a linen napkin, he dumped a handful of ice into its center as he watched her from the corner of his eye. "It's a first name kind of company, Katelyn. You should have researched that."
"I did." She put her hand out, expecting him to give her the ice. "I was raised to start formal and wait for an invitation to use someone's first name."
"Invitation extended, now slide over." He spoke exactly like a man accustomed to immediate obedience. "You need to elevate that ankle."
She knew there was no quantifiable reason to refuse, but her gut advised caution. When she hesitated, he tilted his head at her. The slight flare of his nostrils told her she was trying his patience already. She lost another second studying his face.
She had no doubt he could stare down a charging bull. His gaze, when he looked at her, was laser focused and unblinking. His mouth puckered decisively, his jaw set so that the total impression was implacable. He had told her to move, and there would be consequences if she didn't.
She slid along the seat, lifting her right leg. Catching it gently, he slid the pump off and brought her heel down to rest against his thigh. Her leg tensed at the intimacy of the contact, his touch light and his body heat discernible through the silk dress pants. A blush crept across her cheeks and she knew it wasn't Montgomery her gut had warned her against but her reaction to him.
She glanced at the raised partition separating them from the driver, relieved that the man's attention was focused on the front of the car as he pulled onto the street.
"The glass is one way, he can't see us."
Katelyn stiffened, feeling like Montgomery had just read her mind. She resisted the impulse to look at him, not wanting him to read anything more from her expression.
"Does it hurt much?" His hand curled along the back of her calf as his other hand held the makeshift ice bag in place. The fingers were warm against her skin, the tips surprisingly callused for a man who made his money buying and selling entire industries.
She tried to relax, concentrating on the cold penetrating her swollen ankle and not the rough brush of his fingertips along the underside of her leg. Her lower torso refused the attempt. Her stomach clenched, her hips narrowing as she tightened her thighs.
Shit, she shouldn't feel like this.
The last four years of chasing down big donors for the charities that employed her had left Katelyn with a certain disdain for the rich and immunity to the magnetic good looks of men like Montgomery.
Up until today.
She shrugged, hoping he couldn't read the effect he had on her. "I've hurt worse."
Montgomery nodded. "I remember. You had a three-inch gash down your leg the last hundred meters of your trial."
Her mouth tensed. She'd had too many conversations on that topic with near strangers. Everyone wanted to know why she had dropped off Team USA after qualifying. She couldn't exactly tell Montgomery it was none of his fucking business.
Not with those words, at least.
"Didn't realize you were a fan." She started to pull her leg back but his grip tightened.
"You need at least fifteen minutes of icing it, Katelyn." Letting go of her leg for a few seconds, he pushed the intercom button and rattled off her address to the driver. His gaze cut in her direction, the side of his mouth she could see lifting in a smile, his eye crinkling at the corner. "That's right?"
"Yes." Her stomach did a nervous flip before she remembered he was rumored to have perfect recall so it shouldn't be the least bit creepy -- or flattering -- that he had memorized her address.
When he turned his attention back to her and her swollen ankle, she smiled at him. "Mr. Montgomery, about the posi--"
"Griffin." His hand slid a little higher up her calf as he angled her leg to inspect the swelling. "Job's filled, but I do have other positions for you."
The way his voice dropped at the end, she was half certain he was propositioning her. She pushed the thought away as impossible until she met his gaze again. Ice blue, the eyes would be merciless in a board room. In the back of the limo, they smoldered, the dark, expressive brows and thick lashes framing their heat into a fuck-me-now command.
Need pooled between her thighs, a sudden high volume of moisture seeping from her hot interior. She shook her head, told herself she was only imagining the heat in his eyes and voice, projecting onto him her own unexpected but intense attraction. "Wh…what positions?"
Dropping the ice onto a side tray, Griffin brought the full attention of his hands to her flesh. The callused fingertips surfed up the inside of her leg as he leaned closer. "Twenty-eight is far too old to be naïve, Katelyn. You're a beautiful woman with exactly the kind of stamina I need in a lover."
His hands had made it all the way up her thighs. He brushed the gusset of her panties, the tell-tale wetness exposing her arousal. Arching his brow, the right side of his mouth lifted in a sensual smirk. He found the edge of the panel and pushed the fabric aside to run his fingers against the seal of her labia.
She gasped, then moaned, her legs shifting to wriggle away but only providing him greater access. He drew his bottom lip in, the flesh re-emerging as wet and red as the tight channel his fingers explored. Griffin slid closer, his free hand pushing her skirt higher to completely expose her thighs. "You're not going anywhere, Kate. Not when you're wet enough to drink from."
She had retained a runner's legs, the flexing thighs lean but muscular. Pinning the bottom panel of her underwear to the side with one thumb, he spread her swollen outer labia to find the inner petals glistening beneath a thick layer of moisture. He slowly licked his lips, his gaze shuttering as he pushed two fingers into her pussy.
Finding her hot and drenched, he inhaled sharply and looked into her startled eyes. "I could take you now."
She didn't argue, was too stunned by her body's betrayal to say anything.
"I won't." The pad of his thumb landed on her clit to run small circles. "Not today."
Her nipples puckered inside her bra, the fabric suddenly too tight from her arousal. She squirmed, inhaling big gulps of air without releasing them as his fingers stroked inside her. Already hovering at the edge of orgasm, she parted her lips.
She should tell him no, push his hands away, do something -- anything -- to stop him.
A needy little moan escaped her.
Wrapping his hands around her hips, Griffin jerked her down the seat until she was flat on her back. He cupped her mound, his grip hard and possessive. "Make that sound again and I'm taking you home with me."
Katelyn bit down on a second moan. She tried to school her face into some semblance of self-control but he gave a little squeeze, pushing her right back to the edge of release. Her lips parted, closed, no sound escaping them as the muscles of her throat fought for silence.
Studying her expression, he recognized the small push of her bottom lip and delicate furrow of her brow that signaled imminent surrender. He really could take her. Wanted like hell to do so, but her acquiescence surprised him. He expected it with other women, not her. Perhaps she was just a little too vulnerable after the mugging.
With a low-rumbling growl, he released her. Katelyn watched him settle against the seat, his attention suddenly focused on the front of the limo. Subtly shifting his hips, he adjusted the erection bulging along his thigh, freeing it to run a hard line up to the buttoned waist of his slacks.
What the hell -- one minute he acted ready to fuck her, the next he was ignoring her!
She eased her skirt back down her thighs and sat up. With his attention fixed straight forward, she continued watching him. His far hand was balled into a fist, the middle joint pressing against his top teeth. Even in profile, she could see the wide flare of his nostrils and the tense line of his jaw. Lowering her gaze back dow
n to his lap, she took a shaky breath in.
That little adjustment to his slacks that Griffin made had given him more room to grow. She could see the full length and thickness of his erection. The front panel pushed at least two inches up from his abdomen, making him as wide front to back as most men were side-to-side. Visually measuring off the length, her mouth suddenly flooded. She swallowed, gave her top lip a tentative lick. "Griffin…"
"Don't, Kate."
He appeared to be at the edge of control, reining in his need with a white-knuckled grip. Squashing the reckless desire to ask what she should stop doing, Katelyn retreated along the seat until she was pressed against the opposite side of the limo. She looked out the window. Recognizing her street, the muscles of her face tightened with an odd mix of relief and regret.
The limo pulled to a stop. Not waiting for the driver, she reached for the door. Griffin's big hand locked around her wrist to restrain her. "Philip will be here nine tomorrow morning to pick you up. Don't make him wait."
From the strain around his eyes, she knew it wasn't Philip's wait he was worried about. Griffin looked ready to devour her and he hadn't loosened his grip. With him staring at her like that, his hand like a vise, it took several long seconds before she found her voice.
"For what?"
He smiled and she knew the wolfish grin belonged to the billionaire CEO and not the hot-blooded lover of a few seconds ago.
"Negotiations."
**********
In the private lexicon of Griffin Montgomery, "negotiations" meant handing Katelyn a platinum pen and ordering her to sign a non-disclosure contract offering more than a year's salary at her last job in exchange for seven days of…
Taking a deep breath, she re-read the scope of services paragraph. She exhaled, the paper shaking in her hand as a full-body blush slowly bloomed across her flesh. In terms of sexual submission, nothing was outside the scope of services. To keep the fifty thousand dollars he offered, she would have to comply with his every desire and keep her mouth shut about it for ever after. She couldn't believe she had climbed into the limo that morning or that she was still sitting in his massive home office and hadn't at least tried to punch the smug smile off his face.