JACKSON (The Billionaire Croft Brothers, Book One)

by Paige North

  Maybe you don’t actually want him to leave you alone. The lady doth protest too much.

  She closed the chat window, closing her eyes momentarily. Even then, she saw Cullen Sharpe in the darkness of her mind, and he was still watching her.

  Work was mercifully over, and Ivy was leaving the office for the day. Lucas caught up to her as she headed to the T station a few blocks away.

  “Are you as sick of reading those case report forms as I am?” he asked, as he came along side her as they left the building.

  The cool, fresh Boston air was a welcome relief.

  Ivy smiled, laughing, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, I’m sure this is nothing compared to how we’ll feel a few weeks from now.”

  “If we’re still even here,” Lucas said. “You know they’re just going to keep cutting until we’re down to like five people that type one hundred and forty words per minute.”

  Ivy laughed, shrugging. “I might not mind getting fired at this point.”

  “They’ll never fire you,” he said.

  She shot him a look. “Why not?” she said, feeling like he was judging her, just as the other temps had. “I’m not going to get any special treatment, Lucas.”

  “Are you sure about that, Ivy?” he replied, nodding ahead of them, his eyes suddenly locking on something just up ahead.

  She turned and followed Lucas’s gaze, and realized that there was a black sports car pulled up a few yards in front of them, idling. Standing outside the car, leaning against it with his arms folded, was none other than Cullen Sharpe.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  Lucas raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Guess that’s my cue to exit,” he said, walking faster. “Good luck.”

  “Lucas,” she called after him, feeling bad and embarrassed.

  Lucas just waved, but didn’t look back as he sped up and almost jogged down the sidewalk away from her.

  Ivy put her head down and started walking past the CEO, but his pull was magnetic, and she couldn’t help herself. At the last second, she looked at him. “You’re humiliating me in public now?”

  Cullen didn’t reply. Instead, he moved aside and opened the passenger door of the sports car. “Get in,” he said.

  “No,” she replied.

  “I didn’t ask.” He pointed inside the car.

  “I must be crazy,” she whispered, and then she moved past him and got inside. But not before she brushed past his face, smelled his aftershave, the clean and masculine scent of him—and it sent her head spinning with so many confusing emotions she could barely tolerate it.

  The passenger seat of the car was soft, the leather all encompassing, and the car smelled brand new.

  Cullen shut the door and then came around the driver’s side and got in next to her.

  He pulled expertly out into traffic, maneuvering the touchy, sensitive car like it was part of his body. Everything Cullen Sharpe did, he seemed to do perfectly, Ivy thought.

  And she hated that about him, because like everything else he did, it made it difficult to think she knew better.

  Even when it came to herself.

  They were both quiet for a time, and then finally she broke the silence.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. She stared straight ahead, unable to look at him for fear of her need and desire showing in her eyes.

  Cullen replied softly. “I can’t help myself.”

  His words stirred something deep inside her, and she felt her need growing. “Maybe you should try harder,” she told him.

  “I need to watch over you,” he said. “I know that I’m no good for you, but I can still make sure you’re safe.”

  “Don’t patronize me,” she said, finally turning to look at him.

  He was watching the road. “I’m not patronizing you.”

  “Of course you are. Pretending that you rejected me because you don’t want to hurt me.”

  “I didn’t reject you, Ivy.” He laughed as if the idea was absurd.

  “Whatever you want to call it—you pretty much kicked me out of bed.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “Please stop trying to rewrite history,” Ivy said, her voice feeling strangled. “It’s insulting. Do you know how awful it was to make myself that vulnerable and then have you walk out of the room the way you did?”

  Cullen finally glanced at her, and his eyes were full of emotion. “Walking out of the room took all of my willpower,” he said. “You have no idea what I would do to you if…”

  “If what?” she cried. “If I wasn’t a pathetic virgin?”

  Cullen shook his head. “You’ve misunderstood me entirely.”

  “No, I think I understand you all too well.” She felt like she was going to cry and she refused to let him see her sobbing, snot pouring out of her nose like a baby. “Pull over and let me out.”

  “Ivy,” he began.

  “I said, let me out of this fucking car!” she screamed. Her heart was pounding and suddenly she was having trouble catching her breath. “Shit,” she said, closing her eyes and grabbing her purse tightly in her hands.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  “I—I can’t…” she licked her lips, feeling her throat tightening. She took a breath but it felt like no air was entering her lungs. “I…I don’t…I can’t breathe…”

  “Calm down,” he said, and he pulled the car over and parked.

  She kept her eyes closed, because she was slowly losing her mind and terrified if she opened her eyes, she might somehow go crazy and die right there on the spot.

  “Just leave me…alone…” she managed, but her breathing was getting shallower, and her heart was racing faster.

  She felt Cullen’s hand on her back, rubbing gently, and then his voice close to her. “Listen to me. You’re fine,” he soothed. “Lean forward, put your head on your knees.”

  “I can’t breathe!” she said, panic rising inside her now. She felt like she might actually be dying. Was it some kind of allergic reaction to something she ate at lunch—a delayed response of some kind?

  “You can breathe, you’re just hyperventilating,” he said. His voice was calmer than ever, and he didn’t sound remotely worried.

  She leaned forward as he’d suggested, clutching the purse to her chest as her forehead touched her knees. Meanwhile, Cullen rubbed her back and spoke words of encouragement.

  “Breathe slowly, along with my instructions. I’ll count to three. You take a breath in while I count. And then you’ll hold for one second, and then we’ll breathe out to the count of three. Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, trying desperately not to freak out. She felt like the air whistling through her throat was coming out of a straw. It was similar to being underwater, and someone refusing to let you up to take in a gulp of air, but you were somehow supposed to stay calm.

  Still, it helped that Cullen was talking to her, and he wasn’t afraid. He was a doctor after all—so if something was truly wrong, wouldn’t he know it?

  Cullen counted slowly to three, and Ivy inhaled along with his voice. Then he told her to exhale as he counted backwards from three to one. He started counting backwards and she did as he said, letting the air slowly out her mouth.

  Her body trembled.

  “Now we do it again,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  They ran through the process a few more times, and slowly she began to feel more herself. Her hands were tingling a little bit, but the panicky feeling had subsided for the most part.

  She took another minute or two to make sure she was actually okay and not just imagining it. Finally, she sat up straight again and looked at him. “I freaked out,” she told him.

  He gave her a slow, easy smile. “You had an anxiety attack.”

  “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.”

  “It’s nothing serious,” he told her. “There’s no
thing wrong with you physically.”

  “I’m just an emotional basket case, is that it?”

  His gaze intensified. “You’re afraid of allowing yourself to let go,” he told her. “You’re afraid of losing control.”

  “Are you sure we’re still talking about me?” she said.

  His jaw set and she saw a twitch in his temple. “We’re most definitely talking about you.” His nostrils flared. “I haven’t forgotten about your disobedience, and the fact that you took Xavier Montrose’s business card.”

  Ivy sighed. “I don’t know what you expect from me. I was willing to give myself to you this morning, and you didn’t want me. But I suppose you don’t want anyone else to have me either.”

  “It’s complicated,” Cullen told her. “I’m no good for you. That much is very clear to me.”

  “Why not? Why are you so bad for me?”

  He smiled. “That’s like asking why it’s bad to put a scorpion in a cage with a sweet little rabbit.”

  “You’re so certain that I’m this innocent, fluffy, harmless creature. How do you know I’m really like that? Maybe I’m a closet slut, a bitch just playing at being innocent.”

  “If only it was that simple,” he told her sadly. “We both know you aren’t pretending to be something you’re not.”

  “But I’m not as fragile as you seem to think I am, either.”

  “I never said you were fragile,” Cullen replied. “I think you’re very, very unique, Ivy. You’re like a precious work of art—something to be treasured, respected, loved and tended to carefully. Not thrown away, abused, kept in the dark, treated shabbily.”

  The way he looked at her, the expression on his face as he said these things—it took her breath away yet again, but this time in a good way. She felt as though he truly meant it—he truly cared about her so deeply that he was concerned more for her well being than even his own gratification.

  “You send a lot of mixed signals,” Ivy said, after he’d gazed into her eyes like that for a time.

  “Is this a mixed signal?” he asked, and then he leaned across the seat, taking the back of her head in his hand as his lips made gentle, exquisite contact with her mouth.

  His lips were soft, warm, and unmistakably passionate. The kiss wasn’t long, but when he broke away and repositioned himself in the driver’s seat—Ivy was speechless.

  Cullen smirked ever so slightly, shifting the car into gear and driving quickly into traffic.

  They arrived at Cullen’s apartment building and he pulled into a parking spot almost directly in front of the home.

  Ivy hadn’t spoken much the rest of the way. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts, fears, excitement and lust.

  His kiss had once more awoken everything inside her, and she realized instantly that she was still far more attracted to Cullen Sharpe than any other man she’d ever met.

  She’d never even thought such a pull of attraction existed in anything but the movies. Yet here she was, feeling it, experiencing it as vividly as anything she’d ever gone through in her entire life.

  Ivy wanted to ask him why. Why was he so cold and distant one moment—so judgmental, cruel even—while the next he seemed to treat her with loving care and an almost parental compassion?

  She knew Cullen Sharpe wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction of an answer. The choice was clear enough. Either she had to quit working for Biomatrix Pharma, stop speaking with and seeing Cullen—or she needed to accept that she was powerless to resist him when he wanted her.

  Cullen came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

  “Come, Ivy,” he said, looking at her with the hungry expression she’d gotten familiar with. His cold eyes were unblinking, frozen and yet somehow burning like a thousand suns.

  She got out of the car and allowed him to take her hand, walking with her to the front door. He let them inside and then closed the door behind them.

  Ivy was aware that it was just the two of them and now they were in his home, in his environment, with nothing to stop him from ravishing her completely.

  Her nipples stiffened and she felt her most private center respond with a pulsating excitement.

  Cullen caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and then he kissed her softly once more.

  “How can you be so gentle like this, and then turn around and be so mean?” she asked, her voice coming soft from her open throat.

  “Nothing I do is intended to be mean,” Cullen said. “But I’m a product of many things beyond my control.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, watching him closely.

  “It means that there are certain things I have to do,” he told her. “It means that everything I told you before remains true.”

  “You still want to…teach me? Discipline me?”

  He nodded. “That part of things cannot change.”

  “But why? Why can’t we just…be like this? The way we are right now? Soft?”

  Cullen turned his head. “Don’t ask me to change. I can’t change, not even for you, Ivy.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” he said, still not quite looking at her. He finally looked at her once more. “That’s why I’ve tried with all my power to end what’s begun between you and I.”

  Ivy wasn’t sure what to say. She felt incredibly flattered by the notion that this powerful man couldn’t resist her.

  But she was also terribly frightened. Cullen’s eyes were haunted and bereft, like a frozen winter scape that had lain barren for a hundred thousand years.

  “I’m trying to understand,” she said. “I want to understand you.”

  He came closer, his nostrils flaring. “There’s no understanding. There’s only submission.”

  His hands grabbed her wrists and squeezed. She gasped, and then his mouth was on hers, and he was sucking her lower lip into his mouth. His kiss was the most sensual thing she could conceive of.

  His body pressed into her body, and she felt his rock hard chest, his abs, his hips, and of course his hard cock, pushing into her center space between her legs.

  “Cullen,” she murmured between kisses.

  He pushed her towards the couch and then abruptly threw her down onto it. She was so confused, so torn in so many different directions.

  “Pull your pants down,” he said, standing over her. “Pull them down and kneel on the couch with your ass up in the air.” His chest was heaving.

  She swallowed. Did she want to do this? Did she really want to play his sick, twisted games?

  And then she realized that, yes, she did.

  Very much so.

  Ivy unzipped and unbuttoned her pants and then climbed onto the couch so that she was kneeling with her butt in the air. She slowly slid her pants down over her hips. Her panties were still on, but she’d only worn a small back thong, hardly covering anything.

  Almost as if you’d known this might happen. As if you wanted it the whole time.

  “Like this?” she asked.

  “Call me Sir or Mister Sharpe,” he reminded her.

  “Like this, Sir?”

  “Look at that big, juicy ass,” he growled, stepping behind her. “Do you truly think I’d ever in a million years let Xavier Montrose touch this gorgeous butt?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “That I’d ever allow any man to touch any part of you?” he asked.

  “No, Sir, I don’t think you want anyone else to touch me.”

  His voice shook slightly as he spoke in a breathless, excited tone. “And yet you had the gall to speak to my rival—flirt with him—in front of my face.”

  “I’m…I made a mistake—“

  His hand collided with her buttocks, hard enough to stop her mid-sentence. She made a small grunt.

  “You made a very big, very bad mistake. You defied me again and again. You were rude, impudent, insulting and immature,” he told her. “You agree that this merits punishment, yes?”

  “Yes, Mister Sh
arpe.”

  SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

  The palm struck her forcefully on the buttocks again and again, and she felt tears pop in the corners of her eyes. Yet, she also felt that her pussy was wetter than ever—and she was excited, not really scared at all of what he was doing.

  If anything, in this moment, she felt closer than ever to Cullen, connected to him in a way that was inexplicable.

  “I’m going to pull those little fucking panties down now, and expose your bare bottom,” he said, and she could hear just how excited he was by the sound of his voice.

  His strong hands pulled her thong down and now she was bare and her wet pussy was upturned as his fingers slowly stroked her folds.

  She moaned.

  “Stop it,” he scolded. “Did you mean for Xavier Montrose to have that delectable, tight pussy for himself?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” she responded instinctively.

  Cullen spanked her ass so hard she gave a yelp. “Cullen!” she said, shocked.

  “Remember what I said about manners,” he said.

  “Sir, that hurt.”

  There was a long pause. “You need to be punished.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to ever treat me badly, Sir.”

  “I want to make you mine, fully. I want to slide my cock inside your virgin pussy and fuck you until you come,” he told her.

  She gulped, hearing him say the words. “I want it too, Mister Sharpe,” she whispered.

  “But first I must punish you for how you’ve disappointed me. You have to be held accountable for every mistake. Every wrong step, every time you go against my wishes, I will make sure you know it.”

  “Yes, Mister Sharpe.” She was sweating, and she was aroused. Her buttocks hurt, stung, and a couple of his spankings had been crossing the pain threshold. But she knew that she didn’t want him to stop.

  Not now, not ever.

  “I’m going to spank you very hard, five more times. Those five times will cover your offenses. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you accept your punishment?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes tightly and hoping he’d make it quick.