by Red Garnier
Sinking his fingers into the tight, firm bun of her hair, he slowly pulled it loose, letting her hair cascade down her back. His cock was salty, intoxicating, and Lucy ran her tongue up and down the length of it, tasting every inch. Pulling her mouth back, she circled the head with the tip of her tongue, watching the expression on his face as she did so. He was watching her mouth—his eyes deep and dark and burning. His breathing was harsh and labored, the cords straining against his neck from a tight, primal need he was visibly keeping on a tight leash.
Lucy curled one hand around the base of his cock while her tongue slowly circled the head, gently tracing the folds. Slowly, she stroked her hand up and down, marveling at his size and hardness while she tilted her head sideways and lowered her face to gently tug the soft skin of his sac with her lips. Her own sex tightened in arousal at the sounds of stark male hunger that tore from his lips.
With sudden desperation, Holden grabbed the back of her head and held her still as he arched his hips and sank his cock into her mouth. Lucy thought she would faint from the wonder of this feeling, the feeling of power, of being the only person who could give him what he craved most right now. It burned in her muscles, boiled in her veins, simmered in every nerve ending in her body.
She moved her lips up and down his cock, using her tongue to taste and caress every inch that she could. Loud sucking noises seemed to come from her very center as she drew him into her mouth as deeply as she could, making him growl fiercely. His hands fisted on her hair and pulled her head back with force.
“Sit on it,” he ordered darkly.
When he asked so crudely she could do nothing but obey, she was so turned on. Quickly slipping off her panties and lifting her skirt, she straddled him once again. His hands were strong, cupping her hips as he held her above him. Without warning, he pushed her hips down as he thrust up inside her, claiming her completely, filling the aching void inside her. Her cunt clenched tightly around his cock, not wanting to ever let go of that perfect specimen inside her.
It was made to be there—he was made to be there.
Gritting his teeth, Holden moved, stroking his cock against her inner walls as they tightened and massaged him, easing her need while at the very same time stoking it to suicidal proportions.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she slowly rocked her hips against his and began to ride him.
His breath was hot against her face, his jaw clenched tightly as his hands ran a burning path up her spine. “I love the way we fuck…the way you take me inside you,” he whispered.
His voice, husky and deep, splashed over her body like heat waves. Gripping her waist with his hands, Holden pulled back his cock only to slam back into her with force, a desperate, needful sound tearing from his chest.
Feverish and whimpering as she continued to rock and circle her hips against his, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him, kissed those plump, sensual lips, touched that hard, chiseled face with her fingertips. The swivel chair squeaked every time she moved against him, the squeaks slow and steady like each of her strokes.
Squeak…squeak…squeak.
“Yes,” she gasped, clutching his face and tugging his lower lip with her teeth as she pushed and rocked and moved. Digging his fingers into her flesh, he pulled back with an effort and delved inside her again, this time harder, deeper.
Squeak…squeak…squeak!
Lucy couldn’t take the slow, lazy rhythm anymore, so she quickened her pace and rode him with purpose, her breasts bouncing from her efforts as she fiercely shoved her hips to his and listened to the interminable sounds of the chair beneath them, faster and louder now that her fever rose high and mighty and dangerous.
SQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAK!
It was too much…
“Now…now…now,” Holden cried hoarsely, burying himself to the hilt.
His words were her complete undoing, as well as the tragic death of the chair’s melody.
Holden watched her when she came, watched her when the shudders rocked her body completely. Undone by the sight of her orgasm, he came with a guttural growl and slowly let the waves of passion take him, closing his eyes as they did.
After what seemed like eons of tremors and shudders, Lucy fell limp against him and buried her face in his neck, feeling drained and spent.
He fell back against the chair and ran his hands aimlessly along her back, gently caressing her.
Lucy smiled in contentment, wondering if there could be another place on this whole Earth or in the universe that could make her feel as comfortable, as warm and as safe as she felt in his arms right now.
Then she remembered her appointment with Simon Morris on the twelfth floor. She immediately disentwined her body from his and picked up her panties, easily slipping them on before rearranging her skirt and shirt then running her fingers through her hair.
He made a low sound of protest. “Don’t you follow any orders at all?” he asked, irritated.
“Of course I do, why do you ask?”
“I told you to take the day off.”
She smiled and brushed a lock of shiny black hair away from his forehead. She didn’t really want Holden to know about her appointment because he’d immediately ask questions, and her wonderful investing idea could go up in flames. Plus, she needed to have a costume for him by tomorrow and she’d postponed buying it long enough. She’d stalled with the silly hope that he wouldn’t go, but she now accepted the fact that he had not cancelled his date with Miss Fortune-Hunting McFadden, and therefore still needed a costume for the occasion.
“Truly? I’m not completely certain my boss meant it when he gave me the day off. It’s very unlike him, since he’s more than a little…strict.”
“He’s hard, that’s what he is,” he muttered, cupping her buttocks and pulling her to him. She slapped his hands away and took a step backward, her eyes shining.
“He’s dictatorial, not hard,” she corrected.
“That bastard.”
She bit her lower lip to stifle a laugh. “And he did order me to get him a costume for tomorrow.”
His scowl began to recede. “Very well, but get me something interesting. Something manly—a vampire or a pirate. Something I wouldn’t be ashamed to wear.” He narrowed his eyes at her in a menacing way, but there was a spark behind them that danced with mirth. “No knights or tights, Miss Divine. I’m warning you.”
Lucy knew just the thing for him, so she smiled and nodded. “Yes sir,” she replied in her best secretarial voice then headed toward the doorway.
“And Lucy?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll see you in the afternoon…?”
She softened her voice and felt her heart weaken at his words. “Yes, Mr. Holden.”
She smiled stupidly at the elevator doors and all the way down to the twelfth floor. Being with Patrick Holden the businessman was extremely stimulating and inspired nothing short of admiration from Lucy. He was, after all, larger than life. But being with Patrick Holden the man was downright terrifying, because he was not exactly the asshole she’d thought him to be. Instead, she was finding a special man that tugged at her heart and appealed to her immensely. He also had a sense of humor—now that was a big surprise.
And his passion, as she’d recently discovered, did not limit itself to buying stocks or faltering businesses.
Even his arrogant side was starting to grow on her. Those bossy orders just made her want to hop and obey like the good girl she was. Not always, though. Sometimes they just made her want to punch him.
Still, whatever this inexplicable emotion bubbling insides her was, it felt indisputably, completely wonderful.
“Lucy Divine. I’m here to see Mr. Morris,” she said to the secretary that greeted her.
“A moment please,” she said in the voice that meant she repeated that phrase only a hundred times each day.
Simon Morris was a middle-aged, stocky man with a shiny bald head and hawk-like blue eyes. He was dressed impecca
bly, his expression unreadable as he led her into his sumptuous office.
“Miss Divine,” he said, signaling to the seat across from his desk. Lucy sat down and crossed her legs. His eyes followed the move and lingered there for what she thought was longer than necessary. “My secretary tells me you’re Holden’s new assistant.”
She didn’t flinch at the obvious sneer in his voice. “Yes.”
“I doubt I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you here next week. They come and go so often,” he smiled. It was a cold smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Maybe that’s because he still hadn’t found me.” Her smile was equally cold.
It took him off guard, and for a moment she saw something almost unpleasant flash in his eyes before he leaned back in his chair. “So what can I help you with today?”
She calmly linked her fingers over her lap. “Actually, I’m here to discuss an investing idea which I would like Holden and Investors to consider.”
“Go on.”
He seemed greatly bored and even stifled a yawn, but she wasn’t surprised, because no matter how modern anyone thought the country was, women still had trouble being taken seriously in the business world. “It’s about Finrod Tech, symbol FIN, just unlisted from the Nasdaq. Have you heard of this company?”
“Yes. But I’m afraid it’s much too small a fish to capture our attention,” he replied haughtily.
This was not going how Lucy would have liked, but still she pressed on, keeping her voice level and her eyes on his in a way that told him she would not be intimidated. Her brother had told her all about men like Morris, men who always kept subordinates in their place, who let no one rise above them. Men who felt threatened by a new idea, a new concept, a new person, for fear it would dislodge their place in the company food chain. “Yes, well…it’s a small fish if you look at only its middleware software, but it recently expanded into service-databases, which is why it’s largely in debt.”
He looked at his watch, pointedly so. “And your point is, Miss Divine?”
She uncrossed her legs and, bracing her hands on the chair armrests, leaned slightly forward, narrowing her eyes. If he wanted to play hardball, then Lucy could play too. She loved games. “The point is, Mr. Morris, its sales have been growing at a rate of sixty percent each year, and if it weren’t for bad management, it could have paid off its debt years ago. The company’s assets, including its fixed assets, total almost one-hundred million, and at current market price you could get the whole company for almost half that.
“True, they owe ninety-million, but if the debt is refinanced, it can easily be paid off within the next five to ten years with the current yearly gross sales, and after that, if it continues the current growth trend, then it’s all uphill. At that point, there’s an excellent chance you could sell it to its strongest competition for an immense profit. I really can’t believe you’ve not even considered the possibility. I know for certain other investment firms are taking a look at it. Chances for success in this venture are extremely good.”
For a few seconds afterward he said nothing, but Lucy could swear there was a savage glint in his cold blue eyes. He slowly rose from his seat, adjusted the collar of his deep-gray jacket and walked around his desk to stand mere inches away from where she sat. She gasped when he clutched her jaw in his hand and squeezed, his thumb and fingers digging into her cheeks.
Her heart pounded against her rib cage almost in accord with the rapid, loud sounds of the phone as it began ringing on top of his desk. He ignored it completely, his attention solely focused on inching his face to hers and baring his teeth. The incessant ringing of the phone made her temples pound and his foul breath on her face made a shiver of dread run down her spine.
“I won’t stand for anyone bursting into my office and insulting me, especially not one of Holden’s simpering assistants! I’ve been in this business for seventeen years and if someone knows when an idea is shit, it’s me, you got that?” Still clutching her jaw with one hand, he yanked her to her feet with the other, his grip on her arm nearly crushing her bones.
She flattened her palms against his chest and pushed frantically, and to her utter distress, she found that his chest was brutally hard. Her efforts were as efficient as pushing a stone wall. “Let go of me,” she squeezed through her lips. The force of his grip squeezing her cheeks rendered her tongue almost immobile, making it nearly impossible for her to talk. His other hand was now coiled around her waist like a boa constrictor, anchoring her against him while squeezing the air right out of her lungs.
“You want something good? I’ll give you something good!”
This isn’t happening! Lucy thought when his tight, dry lips crushed over hers. This couldn’t be happening, not under Holden’s very nose, not in this building, not in this company, not in Manhattan and not in the twenty-first century!
But it was. The steely grip of his hand was clenching her face so hard her skin stung, and his odious tongue was sliding through the forced opening of her lips and into her mouth.
She bucked against him and repeatedly slammed her hands against his shoulders, fighting him with all her might, and when he didn’t budge she jerked her knee upward and landed it solidly in his crotch just as she heard a deep, ominous voice behind her say, “What the fuck is going on here?”
Holden. Thank God.
Morris folded over, the breath wheezing out of his lungs as he cupped himself with both hands. His fleshy cheeks and the rounded top of his head glowed bright red. Lucy straightened, trying and failing miserably to look calm when she turned toward the doorway and met Holden’s intense stare. Her breath came in loud, audible gasps and her lips trembled uncontrollably.
After switching his gaze from one to the other, Lucy could tell Holden didn’t need anyone to explain to him just “what the fuck” had happened.
“Are you all right, Lucy?” he asked thickly.
She could only nod repeatedly, her head bobbing up and down way too many times to count. Holden whipped his gaze to Morris then, his eyes set into lethal coal-black slits.
She had never, ever seen Holden so pissed—he looked ready to kill someone. Even his neck seemed to strain and thicken, his hands fisting at his sides, the move causing his knuckles to jut out threateningly. He looked very ready and very willing to kill Simon Morris—or at least to fire him.
“Holden,” she began, lifting her shaky hands up to placate him. “I’m fine. Really.”
But Holden had eyes only for Morris, and by the looks in them, oh dear, was Morris really in for it. Morris had barely straightened, just recovering from her Oscar-winning groin shot, when Holden growled a low, deep sound of battle only a second before he lunged at him.
He shoved Morris back against the desk, toppling a jar of pencils and scattering papers as he smashed his knuckles into the older man’s face. Whimpering in pain, his head rolling sideways from the impact, Morris futilely attempted to land a hit of his own but he didn’t stand a chance—he looked small and helpless compared to Holden. The little man couldn’t compare to Holden’s sheer size and strength. And Holden was crazy now, sinking his fists into Morris’ stomach as if he were a punching bag, snarling and cursing at him the whole time.
Lucy yelled, she screamed, she begged—but Holden seemed deaf to everything but his rage. She ran to him and frantically placed her hand over his knuckles to stop him, her eyes pleading with his profile.
“Holden please, please stop this!”
He paused, his chest heaving as he stared down at a bloody, bruised Simon Morris, a man who had worked with him since the founding of Holden’s investment firm, a man he had trusted. “You’re fired!” Holden spat. “Take your shit and leave here now before I kill you! Am I clear?”
“Yes, very clear,” Lucy said soothingly, certain that Simon Morris couldn’t even speak through his swollen, bloody lips.
She wrapped an arm around Holden and guided him toward the elevators, wanting to flee the scene as soon as poss
ible. Her pulse was dangerously near stroke zone and her knees were practically knocking against each other, barely allowing her to walk. She longed for a few minutes of peace in order to pull herself together. She was extremely close to losing it.
Once in the elevator, Holden punched the lobby button and turned to her, gently cupping her cheeks with his hands. He was shaking with rage and though his brow was creased with worry, he knew his eyes still blazed with red-hot anger. “He hurt you.” He studied the faint red marks on her beautiful cheeks and brushed his thumbs over them in an effort to erase Simon’s touch. “Son of a bitch,” he gritted emotionally.
“I’m fine, really Holden. Besides, I had it all under control.” Her assurance was meant for both of them, and wasn’t very convincing.
“Under control my ass! And what the devil were you doing there in the first place, Lucy?”
“Don’t yell at me Holden! You nearly killed that man, on my account no less—I feel awful!” she said, still too flustered to think straight.
“No, I nearly killed him on his account, for being such a hot-blooded, horny little prick! How dare he force himself on a woman—on my woman—in my own friggin’ building!”
Lucy wasn’t certain if she wanted to point out that she was no one’s “woman” because a part of her felt completely, utterly, devastatingly excited that he’d called her that. Did that make her old-fashioned? Would feminists around the globe yell at her for her stupidity, for wanting to be someone’s “woman”?
No, not someone’s—Patrick Holden’s.
She really outdid herself with this one.
Oh, but to think how he’d just battered Simon Morris—it made her feel extremely guilty. And what if Morris pressed charges? What if Holden went to jail because of her? But then, it had been in her defense, so maybe he wouldn’t need to go to jail at all. Would he? Although she knew full well that what happened hadn’t been her fault, she couldn’t help but think that maybe she shouldn’t have played hardball. “I might have wounded his male pride a little bit,” she admitted in remorse. “I insulted his ego and I guess he felt inclined to show me who was boss.”