His to Claim

by Shelly Bell

  She shrugged. “Maybe they just like wine.”

  Splaying his hand on her lower back, he led her to a vacant area beside the bar. The action felt intimate, as if he were staking a claim to her.

  “Then you have the hard liquor drinkers,” he continued. “These are the women who have something to prove. The ballbusters. They’re the ones who rise through the corporate ranks and crash through the glass ceiling only to replace the glass once they’re at the top, keeping other women from accomplishing what they have. They’re basically men with vaginas.”

  He plucked the empty glass from her hand and set it on a tray beside the bar. “Despite your drink of choice this evening, you don’t fit.”

  “Exactly.” She inhaled his dizzying scent, a mix of cologne, soap, and something…unfamiliar. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome. “Did it ever occur to you that categorizing women by their drink order isn’t only obnoxious, but also outrageously flawed?”

  He paused, finishing his drink before shaking his head. “No. Now where was I?” He rested his glass next to hers. “Right, the third and final category. The mixed drink. These are your average girl-next-door kind of women. They like to have a good time and get a little buzzed, but they despise the taste of alcohol. They’re hard workers, but they’d never step on anyone’s toes to get to the top, and if they do manage to get there, they do whatever it takes to help other women get to the top as well.”

  “And you think I’m one of those women?”

  A smile played at his lips as he moved closer. “Oh, I know so. No woman who dresses like you enjoys wine or hard liquor.”

  She took a step back, putting her flush against a pillar. “There are plenty of women here dressed like me.” While he’d nailed his assessment of her, what was wrong with the way she was dressed? It wasn’t as if she was wearing her favorite jeans and Florida State sweatshirt. Thanks to Keane, she fit in with everyone else there tonight. At least on the outside.

  “No.” He leaned forward, placing a hand on the pillar next to her head while he settled the other on her hip. His touch seared through the silk of her skirt as he swept his thumb back and forth over her hip bone.

  She shivered even as a fever began to rage within her. “No?”

  He smiled, the skin crinkling around his eyes. Then his gaze dipped to her chest. “As much as I appreciate the peekaboo view of your nipples, your blouse is misbuttoned.”

  Horrified, she slapped her arms over her chest. “What?” She looked down and confirmed he wasn’t joking. Somehow she’d missed a button, allowing for a huge gap in the fabric, and since she barely filled a B-cup, she hadn’t bothered with a bra. How many others had she inadvertently flashed?

  She closed her eyes and sighed. So much for making a good impression. Everyone was probably laughing behind her back. “Fuck me.”

  Ryder grabbed her hand and pulled her from the pillar. “Usually I prefer a bit more banter, but I’m game.”

  Her eyes flew open as she stumbled forward, slamming into a hard wall of muscle. His arm encircled her waist, helping her regain her balance. She clutched his sweater in her hands. God, he smelled good. “I’m sorry?”

  He looked perplexed, one of his eyebrows shooting up while the other remained in place. “You asked me to fuck you.”

  “I didn’t,” she said, her protest coming out much weaker than she’d intended.

  Damn him. He confused her with that quick-witted tongue of his.

  She clenched her thighs together, picturing him putting that tongue to better use. Crap, I shouldn’t be thinking that. What’s wrong with me? “That was me…I mean, I—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her stammering. “Tell me the truth. Do you or do you not want me to fuck you?”

  Was that a trick question? She didn’t think there was a woman in the room who wouldn’t want Ryder in their bed. He removed his finger, giving her the chance to reply. “I…I don’t even know you.”

  “What better way to get to know someone than by fucking them?”

  The way he said fucking made her hot and needy. “Um…a conversation?”

  He chuckled, the sound of it like a caress between her legs. “You want a conversation? How about this?” His arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her closer, letting her feel the full effect of his desire for her against her hip. “If I don’t get my mouth on your pussy within the next five minutes, I’m going to stand on top of the bar and tell everyone you crashed the conference without paying.”

  The aforementioned pussy clenched, completely on board with Ryder’s blackmail. The traitor.

  Her brain and body warred with one another. It would be embarrassing enough if anyone discovered she was an intern, but if Ryder actually did what he threatened, she’d be mortified.

  “You wouldn’t.” She waited for him to admit it was a joke, but his grin said otherwise. “You would.”

  His fingers brushed a path down her arm, eliciting goose bumps in their wake. “Unless you tell me you really don’t want me to fuck you five ways to Sunday. But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

  She laughed. “You’re insane. Has anyone told you that?”

  “Several times.” He held out his hand. “Jane?”

  What would Plain Jane do?

  The answer was obvious. She’d politely decline and walk away.

  But Plain Jane wasn’t here tonight.

  He didn’t need to blackmail her into sleeping with him, because her body had already won the war.

  She wanted him.

  He didn’t need to ask her again. She slid her palm against his, shivering at the feel of his warm skin against hers. “I’m coming.”

  Tonight she’d be bold. Reckless. Pretend she was the type of woman who had one-night stands. Tomorrow she could go back to being Plain Jane. But for the next few hours…

  She was his to claim.

  THREE

  One year ago…

  Ryder held on to Jane’s hand a little tighter, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and bolt.

  She wasn’t his typical conquest. Everything about her screamed innocence and yet he couldn’t walk away. He’d spotted her earlier in the day, nibbling on her lips during a session as she took notes on last year’s award-winning innovations by Michigan inventors, and his response had been so strong, it was like a punch to the gut. For a moment, he could barely breathe and it took everything in his power to remain in his seat.

  Without even knowing it, she’d enraptured him and for the next hour, his attention had been focused solely on her. The way the sides of her eyes crinkled when the speaker told a bad joke. The way she pursed her lips when someone’s cell phone went off. The way she absentmindedly played with the ends of her hair.

  Her face had displayed a million expressions and he wanted to know what each one meant.

  Beautiful didn’t even come close to describing her. She reminded him of Snow White with her dark hair, fair skin, and thick lashes, only better because she was fucking real.

  And when the speech had ended and she’d stood up to clap, his cock had stood up as well, his only thought that he had to taste her. Fuck his lunch appointment. He would rather have her.

  He’d taken a step in her direction when his lunch date commandeered him, moving between him and Snow White and impeding his view of her.

  “Ready for lunch? I made us reservations at the nearby steak house. We can take my car.”

  The ginger-bearded guy worked for Sinclair Corp, a company Ryder had no desire to do business with. Not even if they offered him a billion dollars. Ryder would never sell his software to a company that specialized in weapons engineering and arms production. He’d been willing to hear the guy out, if for no other reason than for curiosity’s sake, but right then, his curiosity had been otherwise engaged.

  “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to cancel.”

  The guy—his name had already slipped Ryder’s mind—had turned red-faced. “What? Why?”

  Ryder ha
d patted his stomach. “Stomach issues.”

  “Then we don’t have to make it lunch. Dinner. Or drinks even. I won’t take up much of your time if you’re not interested in the opportunity I have for you. How ’bout a drink at the bar at three?”

  The guy had looked so panicked, his pupils huge, nostrils flared, his throat incessantly swallowing, that Ryder had felt a little bad for him.

  “Yeah, sure,” Ryder had said, throwing him a bone. “Excuse me.” He’d left the guy standing there and hurried toward where Snow White had been sitting, but she’d disappeared.

  Like a lovesick asshole, he’d spent the next twenty minutes looking for her around the hotel, hoping maybe to find her in the bar or in one of the restaurants. But she’d vanished.

  He never did meet that guy in the bar. Instead, he’d eaten lunch in his room and taken a long shower, jerking off twice to fantasies about his mystery woman sitting on his face.

  But tonight he’d found her and he planned on turning that fantasy into a reality.

  When he saw her walk into the ballroom, he’d known she wouldn’t be walking out alone. All the men in the room had turned to ogle her, and it had nothing to do with the fact that her tit was practically visible. (Okay, that wasn’t the only reason.) The way she held herself told him that she had no idea how beautiful she was. Her gaze had darted around the room and she’d kept tugging on her dress, both signs that she was nervous. But at the same time, she’d thrown back her shoulders as if she’d been ready to take on the world. He wanted to be the one to show her, to prove to her that she was beautiful. He’d teach her to own her beauty and never make any apologies for it.

  He just hadn’t expected her to be so sharp or witty.

  He was tired of the giggly submissives who practically fell to their feet at the sight of him. Unlike them, Jane made him work for it, volleying back everything he’d lobbed at her. He’d felt like a million bucks when she’d agreed to come to his room.

  God, he couldn’t wait to have her long legs wrapped around him.

  He didn’t care that tangling with this woman might threaten his one-and-done policy.

  Because he couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of her.

  Ryder tugged Jane toward the exit of the ballroom. From the corner of his eye, he saw the guy he was supposed meet at the bar heading toward him. Shit, he really didn’t want to stop and give her a reason to change her mind. He had the guy’s card somewhere in his room. He’d just call him tomorrow and tell him he wasn’t interested in anything he had to offer.

  His arm curled around Jane’s waist as they left the event. Luckily his room wasn’t far. He led her down the long hall and had just taken out his key when he realized the door was already open a crack. He remembered pulling the door closed before he left for the banquet, but it was possible he walked away before noticing it hadn’t fully shut. A quick scan of the room confirmed nothing was out of place or missing.

  The walls were covered in pink and green floral wallpaper and the carpet was red and pink striped. It should have been ugly as hell and yet it somehow worked. Along the far wall under the window sat two green chairs with a round white table between them, his laptop open upon it. The bedding matched the wallpaper and behind the headboard was a pink striped curtain as if the bed were on a stage. It was perfect because tonight he was going to give Jane a performance she’d never forget.

  Fidgeting, Jane stared at the bed as she nibbled on her lower lip.

  The sight of it punched him in the chest. He wanted her so much he physically ached, but he wouldn’t pressure her into something she didn’t want.

  He strode to her and took her hand, lifting it to his chest. “If you’ve changed your mind, we don’t have to do this. You can leave now, go back to the party. I won’t stop you.”

  Her gaze fell to their joined hands, and she flattened her palm over his heart. Could she feel how it raced for her?

  “I want you to…f-fuck me,” she whispered.

  He knew that admission didn’t come easy for her. That’s why he hadn’t given her much of a choice back in the ballroom.

  He tipped up her chin. “You’re a very bad girl underneath that good-girl persona, aren’t you?”

  A bright smile spread across her face. “I am tonight.”

  “Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he said, needing to gauge her reaction.

  He was a perverted bastard, but he didn’t need kink to enjoy sex. If Jane wasn’t into it, he’d be fine with some old-fashioned, sweaty, vanilla fucking. But he had to admit, the thought of bringing her to the highest heights of pleasure made his dick hard. He’d love to see her bound to that bed, helpless and writhing, her legs spread for him.

  Something about Jane brought out the Dom in him.

  She giggled, passing his statement off as a joke. “You’re not going to break out the whips and chains, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Thank good—”

  “I didn’t bring any with me.”

  Her breathing hitched and her pupils dilated. “I’m not into that.”

  He dragged his fingers down her neck, over her throbbing pulse point, and cupped his hand over her breast, confirming her nipple was hard under her dress. “Your body is saying otherwise, but like I said, I don’t have any toys with me.” He lightly squeezed her breast. “You’ll just have to make do with my hand. Ever been spanked, Jane?”

  She swallowed hard. “No.”

  He rubbed his palm over her nipple. “Ever want to be? Aren’t you the least bit curious what all the fuss is about?”

  “I…” She blew out a breath. “What do I do?”

  He knew it. There was an instinct that had originally drawn him to her and it was much more than physical attraction. There was a connection between them. Like a magnet to steel. Or a Dom to a sub. Hiding beneath that innocent exterior was a wanton woman dying to get out.

  But his gut said she needed some help to do it.

  He reclined on one of the chairs. “Take off your clothes for me.”

  Her hands shook as she worked the buttons of her blouse. Maybe it made him a sick fuck, but he liked that he made her nervous.

  After what felt like forever, she undid the last button and slid the blouse off her shoulders. He licked his lips as he soaked in the beauty standing before him. Her breasts were small and firm, the perfect size for him to take the entire flesh into his mouth. He kept his gaze trained on her, not even blinking, for fear of losing a single moment of her shy striptease.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip as she hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of her skirt. Inch by inch, she lowered it over her thighs, bending over and giving him a glance of her luscious round ass and smooth, shapely legs that would soon rest on his shoulders.

  Fuck, she was wearing a thong.

  His dick twitched in his pants, and he crossed his legs to relieve the throbbing.

  She sashayed over to him, her hips swaying back and forth.

  His gaze locked on to the tiny scrap of lace covering her pussy. “Bad girl. You didn’t follow my directions.”

  A challenge twinkled in her eyes. She snapped the waistband of her panties against her skin, the sound reverberating in the room. “I thought you might want to do the honors.”

  Fuck yeah, he’d do the honors. He slipped his fingers under the flimsy waistband and within seconds ripped the panties away from her body. He leaned forward and inhaled her scent before looking up at her shocked face. “You’re beautiful. If Botticelli were alive, he’d create a statue of you.”

  She smiled. “Botticelli didn’t do sculptures.”

  “That’s only because he died before he got to sculpt you.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Other than tossing out the occasional “good girl” or “fuck, you’re good at that,” he didn’t bother with compliments, and the women he fucked didn’t expect them. Jane was different. He could tell she didn’t have a lot of experience with men and required
some extra coddling. But it didn’t make the words any less true.

  “I can honestly say that not only have I never said that, but I also mean every word.” He patted his thighs. “Lie across my lap.”

  “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”

  Remaining clothed while she was completely naked gave him just one more pretense of power.

  She stood stock-still, realizing he had no intention of taking off his clothes. He could almost hear her thinking. He held his breath as he waited for her to accept that she wanted this as much as he did. Pretending to have patience, he drummed his fingers on his thigh. Truthfully, he was about thirty seconds from tossing her onto the bed.

  A small sigh of acquiescence puffed from her lips. After removing her earrings and setting them down by his computer, she awkwardly lay facedown across his lap. Because of her height and the level of the chair, her palms and toes rested on the carpet. He swore he felt the heat of her pussy through his pants and he clenched his hands to keep himself from finding out. Instead, he caressed the globes of her delectable ass, tempted to do more than just spank it.

  “Ready?” he asked, although he didn’t give her a chance to respond. Immediately, he swatted her rear, barely using any force.

  Her reaction wasn’t typical. She started laughing uncontrollably, her body convulsing on his lap and the vibration of it going straight to his dick. He didn’t stop her, knowing it was probably a nervous reaction. Besides, it was honest. Real. So unlike the practiced moans of the usual subs he played with. She laughed with her entire being, holding nothing back. He could only imagine what it would be like if she fucked like she laughed.

  Her laughter tapered off after a minute and she sighed. “Sorry,” she said, then hiccupped.

  He ran his finger down her spine. “Don’t be. It’s adorable.”

  She looked up at him. “This just strikes me as a little ridiculous.”

  Ridiculous, huh? He’d assumed he’d need to ease her into it, but obviously she required a heavier hand. And he’d be happy to provide it.