by Layla Love
“I need some time to think about this,” she insisted. That was really code for saying she needed to go home, look him up and see if the guy was legit. It would be just her luck if he was an escaped mental patient posing as a world famous author!
“Don’t take too long,” Hunter cautioned. “My jet flies out tonight. I’ll pick you up at 11.”
“You don’t even know where I live.”
“Yes I do.”
“Are you a stalker or something?!”
“Or something,” he grinned. “See you tonight. Oh, and nice bra. Red is my favorite color.”
*****
Hunter talked a good game. He was confident and charming, oozing sex appeal. He knew how to make a woman do what he wanted, and some might say that knowledge was a deadly weapon. He was a master manipulator. Come to think of it, he should have gone into politics.
But he hadn’t counted on Callie giving him such a hard time. He had expected his offer to pay her a million dollars to bring her to her knees. Instead, she had remained deeply suspicious and wholly unconvinced. If she didn’t soon relax, he was going to be in for a rough time.
What made it extra infuriating was that she was right to question his motives. He wasn’t being entirely truthful, or at least not completely forthcoming. But that was the nature of business, wasn’t it? Everyone always spoke in half-truths and partial facts. Everyone lied.
He was just being a good businessman.
Well, maybe he hadn’t been completely successful. He had initially planned to offer her half a million. He had assumed that would be sufficient, but when he had realized what a ball breaker Callie could be, he had upped the ante.
Oh, who was he kidding? That was a lie.
The moment he’d laid eyes on the curvy librarian, he had decided he had to have her.
He had only been able to find a couple dated photos of her online – for a woman who spent so much time writing fan fiction, she didn’t have much of a social media presence. Hunter had thought her photos were cute, but after having delved into the wild west of online dating a time or two, he also knew pictures could be misleading. So he had reserved his judgment.
When Hunter had seen Callie in person, he had been awestruck. He hadn’t wanted to show it of course, but inside he had been on fire. She had a body to die for and for some irritating reason her unwillingness to submit only made him want her that much more. Hunter was hell bent on taking her back to his beach house.
He was as excited as a kid with a shiny new toy that he couldn’t wait to play with.
Hunter was already convinced that Callie would be a good match for him professionally. As a writer, she was exactly what he was looking for. She was everything he wanted and he was secretly even a fan of her work, though he would never admit it to her. In particular, he loved the raunchy sex scenes she wrote.
Under her pseudonym, Callie wrote about bondage. She wrote about pain and submission and domination and surrender. Her words drove Hunter wild. Knowing that those lustful, kinky scenes came from the brain of someone young and beautiful thrilled Hunter to no end.
But the thing that he liked best was that her descriptions were lacking something. They were detailed and delicious and sensual, sure. They were enough to tease and tantalize, and maybe even enough to get a novice off. But Hunter was no novice. He knew what was missing.
Callie’s sex scenes were lacking real world experience. They were written from the viewpoint of an idealistic, awestruck BDSM virgin. Of course he didn’t know if Callie was actually a virgin – with those tits and that ass he doubted it! But he doubted she was anywhere near as kinky as she wanted her readers to think she was.
The more Hunter read of Callie’s work, the more convinced he became that she had no real world experience with BDSM whatsoever. She was new, fresh and mouldable. He could take her and turn her into exactly what he wanted her to be...or at least that was the plan.
Callie was like his fantasy come to life.
Needless to say, Hunter was longer thinking like the business savvy hotshot he was. And he was finding it increasingly difficult to think with his head. It may have had something to do with the fact that all the blood in his body had rushed to...some other spot.
He had won; he had gotten Callie on his private jet. Maybe he hadn’t won the war yet, but that was only a matter of time. For now, he had won the battle and that was enough for him.
He was sitting on his jet across from the stunning young librarian. He was pretending to study the newspaper, though in actuality he hadn’t read a single word. He was only using the paper to shield his growing erection from Callie’s sight.
She sat there with her ankles crossed primly and her hands clasped in her lap. Even though she was a total knockout, no one would ever suspect from looking at her that she was the dirty, sexually charged woman who had authored countless fan fiction stories on the internet.
Hunter loved knowing that he was, in all likelihood, the only person who was in on her secret.
As he watched Callie nervously push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, Hunter felt his growing cock straining against his clothing. She was the best kind of sexy – the completely oblivious, unassuming kind. It was as though she had no idea that she was every man’s wet dream come to life.
He desperately wanted to take her.
He doubted she was a member of the mile high club and God, did he want to initiate her. He yearned to give her a fucking she would never forget, to ravage her until she was exhausted, hoarse from screaming and whimpering for a break.
He wanted to rip her clothes off right there, stripping her out of her modest button up blouse and that little skirt that hugged her big delicious ass so flawlessly. He’d bend her over the seat, her face pressed into the cushions and that round shapely ass right in his face.
Maybe she would struggle.
Maybe she wouldn’t.
Hunter didn’t know and the mystery of it all drove him wild.
He would be gentle at first, if she’d let him. He would explore her glorious, voluptuous body, memorizing every curve and every contour. He would take his time with her, kissing and licking every inch of her body until she was quivering beneath him, begging for release.
He would ignore her pleas, ignore her growing need. He liked them desperate, so turned on they could hardly stand it. He loved having that sort of power over them. It was intoxicating. He wouldn’t give her what she wanted – what she needed – until there were tears.
He loved making them cry.
Did that make him a sadistic bastard? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as though he got off on terrorizing a woman. He didn’t want to cause any lasting injury, either. No, what he liked was making them realize just how helpless they were. He lived for that moment when something inside a woman snapped and she realized her sexual release depended entirely on him.
Once she submitted, she got her reward.
Once she was his, he gave her what she craved.
In all honesty, Hunter had no idea if he would ever reach that point with Callie. She was much feistier than the women he was used to – that had become apparent within the first five minutes of meeting. She was a different creature entirely. Even if he was able to get her into bed, he wasn’t sure he would be able to get her to submit.
But he loved a challenge.
*****
“This is your beach house?!” Callie demanded incredulously.
Hunter stood there leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets, watching in amusement as she took it all in. It was, of course, not the typical beach house. Nothing about Hunter Black’s life was typical, so why should his home be?
It was a freaking mansion. It was a huge, massive structure on a private stretch of pristine, untouched beach. The mansion had turrets and wings – hell, the wings probably had wings! It was incredible.
Callie whirled around to look at him. “This is where I’m going to be staying?” she demanded.
“Y
es. It’s where we’re going to be staying,” he replied. “Do you want to see your room?”
“Okay.”
Hunter led Callie to an elevator, towing her suitcase along behind them. When he reached past her to select the floor number, he inadvertently brushed against her breast. Callie knew he hadn’t done it intentionally because, had she not chosen that moment to step to the left, it never would have happened at all. It wasn’t like he was trying to feel her up or anything.
But she still inhaled sharply, momentarily taken aback by the close physical contact.
She was still reeling from all that had happened. To think that she would have a million dollars once this was over and done with was almost too much to take in!
And she was still unsure what to make of Hunter Black.
Everything about him had checked out. Upon returning home from the bar, she had scoured the Internet to find out everything she could about the cocky author. She had, in all honesty, been looking for some reason to turn his offer down. She had been looking for a sign, a red flag.
There had been nothing.
Hunter Black had no criminal record. He was an elusive, business savvy man who mostly kept to himself. Up until a couple years ago, he had regularly given talks at university campuses all over the country. He presented seminars to literature majors and business students alike – or at least he had.
In recent years he had fallen off the radar. He still released books – lots and lots of books! But he no longer visited college campuses or gave interviews about his craft. He simply churned out new books and kept to himself, as far as Callie could tell.
It was weird, sure. But it wasn’t weird enough to set off a warning siren. So he was a bit reclusive and, judging from his comments earlier that evening, kind of a cocky playboy type. That certainly wasn’t a good enough reason to pass up a million dollars. That kind of money would be life changing!
Besides, unbeknownst to Hunter, Callie had pepper spray. She had taken a self defence course a few years back, as well. She knew how to take care of herself, and she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself if need be. So if the arrogant billionaire planned on getting all touchy feely with her, he would be in for quite the surprise.
Truthfully, though, Callie doubted Hunter had those sorts of ulterior motives. Just look at him. He could be a freaking model. The sex appeal practically wafted off of him like expensive cologne and, maddeningly, he knew it.
Hunter Black was arrogant, successful and gorgeous. There was no way a guy like that would ever be interested in a plus size, unexciting woman like her. He probably went for the skinny bottle blonde beach bunny type, Callie reasoned. His type always did, right?
“So here it is,” Hunter said, cutting into Callie’s thoughts.
“Here what is?” she asked, looking around at the exquisite architecture and expensive decor. The large sitting room they stood in was really quite impressive, and the chef’s kitchen she could see just beyond it was even more stunning.
“This is where you’ll be staying. It’s your wing of the house.”
“My...wing?” she repeated, barely able to comprehend what he was telling her. She had an entire wing? That was...that was incomprehensible. Unable to hide her shock, she marveled, “I thought you were showing me to my room.”
“Oh, right. Well there are three bedrooms down that hallway,” Hunter told her, pointing. “Take your pick. Or hell, sleep in a different bed every night if that’s what gets you off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get drunk and pass out. We’ll talk about the book tomorrow.”
Abruptly Hunter turned around and left, leaving Callie to stare after him, her mouth agape.
*****
It was excruciating.
Hunter couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as badly as he wanted Callie. He couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t understand it. But when he had accidentally brushed up against her breast in the elevator, he had nearly cum in his pants.
It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to make a move on her right then and there, but he knew better. Callie wasn’t a woman who could be won over easily. As a man who’d had more than a few conquests in his day, Hunter knew that. He knew he needed to take his time with her. He knew she would be a challenge.
Any time he was around Callie, Hunter felt himself on the verge of losing control.
He hadn’t even been able to show her to her bedroom. He hadn’t trusted himself. He had been afraid that he would want to throw her down on the bed and take her right there...driving himself into her and biting her neck while she moaned and writhed beneath him.
He wouldn’t have done that, of course.
He wasn’t the type of guy who would ever force himself on a woman. He was a fan of mental surrender, not physical conquest...at least not without consent.
But had he taken Callie into a bedroom he probably would have lost all control. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on her, of course. Not without her permission. But he probably would have exploded just from the thought of tying her to the headboard and making her mewl in pleasure.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Hunter mumbled as he cracked open his fourth beer and took a swig. He wasn’t normally so easily rattled, but Callie had quite the effect on him.
He blamed her perfume. It smelled amazing, like oranges and vanilla. It made him desperate to lick her...kiss her...devour her. He was sure she tasted every bit as good as she smelled. Hunter longed to bury his face between her thighs, holding her down with his arms while he made her scream in ecstasy over and over again.
Oh, the things he wanted to do to her.
As he slouched down on his sofa and let his mind run wild, Hunter unzipped his pants. He slipped his hand inside and closed his fist around his throbbing cock, imagining it was Callie who was touching him. What he’d give to have her sitting on his lap right now, naked and grinding her hips against his crotch as she flicked her hard nipples and he bit her neck.
“Callie...” he groaned.
He heard a gasp.
Hunter’s eyes flew open and he saw his sexy little houseguest standing in the entryway to the main sitting room. He was so surprised that for a second all he could do was stare. She appeared to be equally horrified, and stood there frozen in place for a moment, her eyes locked with his.
Then she sprang into action. She leapt out of sight, trying to conceal herself behind the door.
Hunter looked down at his hard, fully exposed cock and grimaced. He quickly tucked his raging erection back inside his pants and stood up. Hunter was a man who was used to being in control of every situation. But he didn’t feel the least bit in control right now.
He cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward.
“I, uh...Callie!” he called out lamely, trying to make out like he had been calling out to her rather than groaning her name in pleasure as he’d masturbated. He felt like such an idiot, and an unconvincing one at that.
Poor Callie’s face was bright red and she looked completely stunned by what she’d witnessed. Hunter couldn’t blame her. She was a grown woman, sure, but even so. He was certain she hadn’t intended to walk in on him doing...that.
He wanted to apologize but didn’t know how. Wouldn’t that only make it more awkward?
“Oh, uh...hi!” she said a bit too enthusiastically as she popped back into sight. “I um...I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began, her eyes straying down to the very prominent bulge he was sporting. “I just forgot to ask you what time we’re going to start working on the book tomorrow.”
“Right, right,” he murmured, nodding far too emphatically. “I, um...I usually go surfing at sunrise, have my coffee and read the uh...paper!” he said, grabbing the closest newspaper from the coffee table and holding it up demonstratively before strategically placing it in front of his groin. “So ah...mid-morning, I suppose.”
“Okay! Well, uh...goodnight!” she chirped before making a hasty exit.
“Shit,” Hunter muttere
d as he sat back down, tossing the newspaper aside. “Shit, shit, shit!”
*****
“Shit!” Callie hissed as she raced back to her wing of the oceanfront mansion.
She ran into the room she had claimed as her own and threw herself down on the bed. Burying her burning face into the pillow, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the past ten minutes would somehow turn out to be nothing more than a horrifying – and erotic – dream.
She hadn’t meant to spy on Hunter. She really hadn’t. After he had left, she’d realized she had no idea when she was supposed to get up in the morning. This was a very unconventional job, but it was nonetheless a job. She wanted to be professional about it.
So she had wandered through the mansion in search of Hunter, taking pause to explore in wide-eyed awe along the way. Her wide-eyed awe had quickly turned to something else, however, when she had located him in a gigantic living room that looked like a dream bachelor pad.
Callie hadn’t paid much attention to the enormous high definition TV, the leather furniture or the big pool table. Her focus had been solely on Hunter – and on what he was doing. Holy shit, she hadn’t expected to walk in on that!
He had the sort of cock women dream about, big and thick and perfect. As Callie had watched the handsome billionaire take it out and begin to stroke it, she had been mesmerized. In fact, she hadn’t been able to resist the urge to reach down and rub herself over her clothes. There was just something so satisfying about watching a gorgeous man play with his equally gorgeous cock.
She was getting turned on. Just as Callie had been about to slip her hand inside her panties, Hunter had said her name. She hadn’t been expecting that at all. His eyes were shut, so how the hell did he even know she was there?
For a second she had forgotten how to breathe. Then, unfortunately, she had remembered. She had gasped for air, letting out a loud wheezing sound that was impossible to ignore.
Hunter’s eyes had snapped open and for a moment they had simply stared at each other from across the room. Time had stood still. Callie had been convinced she was about to have a heart attack. Maybe a small part of her would have welcomed death at that moment. It would have spared her from being utterly humiliated, at least.