Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Thank You!
Professor Bad Boy
About Sloan
Also by Sloan Kincaid
My Vampire Boss
Sloan Kincaid
Red Hot INK
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Thank You!
Professor Bad Boy
About Sloan
Also by Sloan Kincaid
Copyright
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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ISBN 978-1-928056-41-6
1
The dream is always the same. Every night, he stalks through my mind like a predator on the hunt. And I am the prey.
I don’t know him. Not well anyway. I see him, at most, twice a month. The company I work for have motivational night meetings on the first and the fifteenth. There are usually around a hundred people in the conference center but I can still sense when he’s there. When he breezes into the room to stand on the stage, I feel the air change. An electrical current surges through my body, my skin flushes with heat, and my heart pounds so hard it hurts.
He’s the CEO of the company. He’s my boss, Rafe Kenyon.
He’s tall and lean. I imagine that under his three-piece suit is a toned and muscular body. His dark, wavy hair is cut short and clean. His face is lean and chiseled with dreamy blue eyes that I lose myself in every time he looks at me. Even from across the room, even from up on the stage. When he smiles the whole room lights up, his sexy dimples begging to be kissed. That’s the smile I see every restless night when I’m twisted in my sheets, when I’m entangled in my dream.
We are in a room. It’s any room. It’s no room. We stand close, facing each other. We’re both dressed for work. He in his Armani suit and me wearing my power red skirt that hugs my hips and just skims the tops of my knees. I feel sexy in this skirt, sexy and strong.
When he smiles at me, my belly clenches and my thighs throb. He reaches down and lightly brushes his hand through my hair and rests it on my shoulder. My body quivers in anticipation. My breath quickens knowing it could be now. Right now.
He squeezes my shoulder firmly and says, “You smell delicious. Your scent intoxicates me.”
I sigh, opening my mouth in an invitation to kiss me. He bends down and lightly brushes his soft, full lips against my cheek, drinking in my subtle perfume. The ache in my belly heightens, and I can hardly contain myself. His slow seduction tortures me.
“Hurry. I’m at your mercy,” I pant.
He just smiles, and my heart liquefies. I’m utterly lost to him. And he knows it.
He finds my mouth with his, gently parting my lips with his tongue. His hand grips the back of my neck, pulling me into him, deepening the kiss. I want him to swallow me whole, eat me alive. His mouth caresses mine as his hand trails down to my breast. My nipples are hard, poking out through the fabric of my shirt. They ache and tingle for his touch. Slowly, he circles one with his thumb over the cotton of my blouse. It’s all I can do to stop from tearing at my clothes. My erect nipples strain against their lacy restraints, wishing to be touched, licked, sucked, anything to end this torment. I groan into his mouth to let him know just what I need.
He deepens the kiss even further. My hands race over his body searching for flesh. I loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, streaking my hands under the fabric. His skin is hot and soft, his chest hairless and smooth. He moans as I brush my fingertips over his sensitive nubs. His muscles quiver under my touch. I sense the power I have over him. The power to seduce, the power to make him beg if I wished. I lower my restless hands to the zipper of his pants.
His passion explodes. Gripping me by my hair, he pulls my head back exposing the long line of my neck. He licks, sucks, and bites his way down. Magically, as it happens in dreams, a table appears behind me. As if I weigh nothing, he picks me up and settles me down on top. Groaning, he now has access to my ample breasts.
He grips the opening of my white filmy blouse and renders it in two. Buttons fly. A ripping sound echoes through the room. I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips; I’m too excited by his violence. He watches, lust gleaming in his dark eyes, as he frees my tits for his pleasure. His long, broad hands fill with my flesh. He squeezes firmly and playfully, extracting another moan from my lips. My head falls back in pure desire.
Unable to contain myself I grab him by the hair and bring him forward smothering him between my heaving full mounds. He sighs as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. My excitement grows as she grabs one in each hand and opens his mouth. My nipple slides between his lips and into his hot, hungry mouth. He slowly rolls it around with his tongue, nipping every so often. The sensation sends waves of pure bliss through my body, down to my aching wet cunt. I could almost come with what he’s doing to my tits.
He mashes them together trying desperately to put both nipples in at once. He manages to get access to both with his tongue. He licks them and sucks them, hard. I pant out his name. A scream stuck in my throat.
“You have the softest tits I’ve ever felt.”
His words ignite an even bigger fire inside me. I moan my filthy demands in his ear. He slides his hand down to my spread legs. He feathers soft touches up my thigh to my soaking wet panties. He rubs his fingers over the fabric and I nearly climax. His slips his fingers beneath and finds me hot and wet and open to him. I gasp as he easily slides three fingers into my cunt.
“I need something from you, Natalie,” he whispers against my cheek.
“Anything,” I cry.
I hold onto his head as he takes me up. He bites down on one nipple as he pumps his hand in and out. I moan as loud as I can as I come all over his fingers. I can’t believe that I orgasmed so quickly. He looks up at me and smiles.
“You are now mine.”
Then I wake up in a sweaty hot mess of clothes and blankets.
The morning after is always rough. My sheets are wet with my sweat and other fluids. I pull them off tossing them in the wash. I feel achy, hollow and restless. I putter around my apartment, alternating between cleaning and glomming a season of Friday Night Lights, my go to show. I’ve seen it four times, but it never fails to make me happy. The day flies by, but when night comes, I feel restless again. After pinning up my long hair, I throw on a t-shirt and leggings and go to the nearest Starbucks for a strong coffe
e. I need caffeine to get me through the rest of the night.
I order my usual with lots of cream and sugar and turn to find a little table in the corner. But he’s there standing in the lineup behind me, and I nearly pass out. I dash over to the corner before he can see me. Although I’m not certain he’d even recognize me, to be honest. I’m one of a hundred of his employees and not that memorable. I’m not drop dead gorgeous. I’m average in all things, except for maybe boobs and ass. Those are both a bit big. But still, I don’t think he’d remember me.
I watch him from the corner as he orders his drink—a caramel macchiato to my surprise. He checks his phone as he waits for it, then once it’s done, he grabs it and leaves the coffee shop. Without thinking, I follow him out. Something drives me to shadow him. I’m not sure what it is. It’s more than just curiosity.
At first, I think he’s heading toward the BMW sitting out front, but he passed it by and continues to walk down the street. His strides are long and purposeful, and I have to intermittently fast walk to keep up, but still try and stay a little ways back, so he doesn’t know I’m tailing him. My heart skips a few beats faster; adrenaline pumps through me. I feel like a private eye following a mark. The clandestineness of it turns me on, and I start to sweat a little.
He walks down four blocks then turns right. When I get to the corner, I stop and peer around it. I see him cross the street and head down another street, this one a little sketchy. In the past, there have been drug busts and a really bad bar fight that spilled outside and killed a man in the area. I wonder what a man like Rafe is doing on the street like that.
Despite my reservations, I follow him into the rough neighborhood. He goes another block before crossing the street again and ducks down one of the back alleys. I don’t know what he could be doing down there. But I have to find out.
I peer down the alleyway, and see him knock on a door, it opens, and he enters. I dash down the lane to the door. It’s a black door, with no words on it, no symbols, no nothing, it’s just plain and black and ominous looking. I have no idea what the door is to. I pace in front of the door, debating whether to knock on it or not. What if it’s a gentleman’s club? What if it’s to a mob hangout? Do I really want to know where Rafe went?
Hell yes, I do.
Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door. The metal clang reverberates around me.
I take a step back and wait. A minute goes by, and I think no one’s going to open the door, but then it creaks open, and a big bald guy with a tattooed face stands in the doorframe.
“What do you want?”
“Um, do you know a Rafe Kenyon?”
“Nope. Never heard of him.”
I open my purse, fish around in my wallet and pull out three twenties. “Do you know him now?”
He takes the money, folds it, and puts it into his pocket. He steps aside. “Welcome to the Steel Cage.”
I’m unsure if I really want to enter whatever the Steel Cage is but I do anyway. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?
As I walk down the empty hallway to another door, I can feel and hear music thumping through the walls. I reach the next door and knock on it. It opens as if by magic, because I don’t see anyone on the other side, and I walk into what I can only assume is some kind of nightclub.
The music is loud, the decor is loud—a kind of Andy Warhol meets Night of the Living Dead, the lights are strobing, and the smell of sweat and other things I can’t quite name assaults my nose. The air is oppressive as I move further into the club, it slicks my skin instantly.
As I cross the room to the bar, I realize there is more to this place than I first noticed. Yeah, there are people dancing on the dance floor, and yeah, there are people at tables, drinking fancy drinks and pints of beer. But on closer inspection I spy couples in alcoves, some of them separated by velvet ropes or by fluttery curtains, kissing, touching, and in some cases fucking.
When I reach the bar, the bartender takes me in slowly. I imagine I don’t quite fit in, with my plain t-shirt, leggings, and hair in a ponytail. I’m dressed for a day at the park, not for a night of debauchery at some alternative nightclub. I order a drink, something strong but fruity, and take it with me to check out the rest of the club. I’m determined now more than ever to find Rafe. I just can’t picture him in this place.
As I walk the room, I feel like a voyeur staring into the private alcoves. I can’t deny that my body responds to everything I see. By the time I’ve crossed the club, the heat between my legs has swelled to volcanic proportions. Then I see him. And nearly erupt.
He’s in one of the private rooms, but the curtains are conveniently open, making the display not so private. The woman he’s with is drop dead gorgeous and gloriously naked. Long silky black hair, perfect heart-shaped face, and a full figure that puts my double Ds to shame. She’s from the va va voom school of beauty, and I admit to being completely jealous, especially when he strokes a hand over her hair, down her shoulder and molds one plump tit in the palm of his wide hand. I should move. I have no business standing here watching this erotic display. But I don’t. I’m too entranced by him, by her, by what he’s doing to her and the pure pleasure on her perfect pale face.
His hand moves down her body, trailing fingers along her belly and sliding them between her thighs. Her head falls back, and she gasps, although it’s not audible from where I stand her mouth opens, and I imagine the sound, as he plunges his fingers inside her. His movements are quick, forceful, and she opens her legs wider to grant him a wider arena to play in. From this angle, I get the pornographic view and can see every thrust.
As he continues to fuck her silly with his hand, he wraps his other hand around her and pulls her to him. He gathers her onto his lap, and I think here we go, this is where I will get to see the goods, get to see him in action, but he doesn’t reach down to his pants to free his cock. Instead, he nuzzles at her neck, pressing kisses to the long line of her throat. Then he opens his mouth just a little like he’s getting ready to feast on her, and I swear to God I see tips of fangs as he bites down on her neck. I can see her body tense, as he holds her tight.
I gasp, and it must be loud, as Rafe’s eyes find mine from across the room. He stares right into me, as a thin rivulet of blood trails down the woman’s back. Then as if by magic, the curtain of the private room falls into place blocking my view.
My heart slams in my chest, and my throat runs dry. I look around to see if anyone is as startled as I am. Who else saw what I did? But everyone is fully engaged in their own lecherous activities. No one is looking at me, or paying me any mind. I can barely breathe. I couldn’t have seen what I thought I did. It had to have been a trick of the light, or maybe someone spiked my drink.
I set my drink down on a nearby table and make a bee-line for the exit. I need to get the hell out of here. My legs wobble and are nearly ineffectual as I walk out of the club and back down the stark white hallway to the door. The big doorman is there, and he opens the door for me with a smile.
“Have a nice evening.”
I rush out, thinking he’s giving me a funny look. Like he knows what I saw and what it’s done to me. I run down the alleyway, sweat rolling down my back. Except I’m not hot. A cold shiver rushes over my body, making gooseflesh on my arms. I don’t stop running until I reach my apartment building. I look over my shoulder as I unlock the door, sure that someone is watching me. I go in, run up the two flights of stairs and quickly push open my door and slam it shut, locking it behind me. I lean against it and try and get my breath and slow my heart rate down before I have a heart attack.
I try and wipe the images out of my mind. I’m not even sure of exactly what I saw. It could’ve been anything. Maybe she was into it; maybe she was into blood play. I’ve heard of it. I know it happens and people get off on it. Each to their own, I say. Whatever makes your bum hum.
It’s not the blood that unnerves me. It’s not the biting either. It’s the fangs I swear I saw inside Rafe Kenyo
n’s mouth.
There have been rumors about him for months. Stupid unfounded rumors about his nocturnal habits, and why he only conducts business at night. It’s just silly things people say around the water cooler. Talking smack about your boss. Everyone does it. Except now, I can’t get it out of my head.
The one day when one of my co-workers said in response to the rumors, “Maybe he’s a vampire.” She laughed right after that, as we all joined in.
Except now, it isn’t funny. Because I think it’s the truth.
My boss is a vampire.
2
Monday comes, and I go to work. I’m constantly yawning and my young bouncy co-worker Sarah mentions that I don’t look very rested. For the rest of the weekend, I was plagued with dreams. The same dreams from before but this time Rafe doesn’t fuck me, he bites me in all sorts of interesting places. And for the first time, I had orgasmed in my sleep. It was so powerful it woke me from a dead sleep.
“Did you go on a two-day bender or something? You look tired.”
I want to tell her that yeah I’m tired since I didn’t get any sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of Rafe filled my mind. And not the images I used to have of him and me fucking in a boardroom, no, these images are a little more intense, and a whole lot darker.
“Didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.”
“You need a boyfriend, Natalie,” she says, which is her answer to just about everything in life. Tired? A boyfriend will help you sleep by cuddling you into unconsciousness. Sore? A boyfriend will massage those muscles. Broke? A boyfriend can help you pay for that. “You’re too pretty not to have a boyfriend. Besides, you’re still young. Forty isn’t too old, you know? Lots of divorced women your age are still single.”
My Vampire Boss (Fantasy Men Book 1) Page 1