Ruthless

by Sybil Bartel

  I took it out, but I protested. “That curl’s going to fall over my face all night.”

  Unguarded, he smiled. “I know.” Watching me in the mirror, he nipped my ear and whispered, “I love that curl.”

  Heat covered my face. “I love you,” I breathed, saying the new words.

  His expression turned deadly serious, then he gave me more. “I love everything about you.” He always gave me more.

  “Not everything.” I dipped my head, still shy under his scrutiny and intensity. “I’m not perfect.” The couple weeks we’d been living together, I’d left my fair share of clothes lying around, dishes in the sink, shoes abandoned in the living room. He never said anything, he just silently eyed everything.

  “There is no love in perfection.” He kissed my cheek and stepped back. Then his voice took on an edge that made my stomach flutter. “Lift your dress.”

  I looked at him in the mirror. “We’re already late.” And I was already nervous enough about meeting his sister, let alone at her office. But Sawyer had been summoned to sign some paperwork a few weeks ago that he’d put off, so now we were stopping by before going to dinner so he could finally handle it.

  “I’m not going to take you again. Not yet,” he reassured.

  I couldn’t help it, I was disappointed. It’d only been an hour since he’d been inside me, but he’d turned me into a wanton mess of needy desire. Just being near him made me wet and achy. But it was an ache I couldn’t ease on my own. Believe me, I’d tried. The few times he been working late and I was left by myself in his huge penthouse, I’d tried, but nothing had worked.

  He’d turned me into his own personal harlot.

  My body only responded to him.

  And oh my God, did it respond.

  The thought of doing exactly what he told me to do already had me wet, but I was on my second pair of underwear for the evening. “I’m not lifting my dress.”

  His voice turned even quieter. “Yes, you are.”

  My heart sped up, my stomach fluttered, and chills raced across my skin. I never had a chance at disobedience. I turned to face him and lifted my dress.

  His huge, magical, glorious hands still in his pockets, denying me his touch, he stepped up to me.

  Still inches shorter than him in my high heels, I looked up at my billionaire bodyguard. “As you wish, Mr. Savatier,” I whispered.

  “Keep holding that dress up,” he ordered.

  It was all the warning I got.

  He dropped to one knee and slid my underwear down in one fluid movement. Then his tongue was on me.

  “Oh God,” I moaned, my knees bending.

  Sucking my clit swiftly and surely between his teeth, he drove two fingers into me.

  “Ahhhh.” Need, sharp and painful, consumed me as I fell back into the bathroom counter. “Oh God.” I didn’t care about being late anymore. I didn’t even care about meeting his sister. I just wanted to feel what he could do to my body—what he did do to it every day.

  His fingers stroked in and out of me, working me like only he could.

  “Don’t stop,” I panted, rocking into him. “So close.”

  As swiftly as he’d dropped and put his mouth on me, he stood and barked an order. “Turn around, on the counter.”

  By now, I understood his clipped demands. And I didn’t question them.

  Turning and stepping out of my heels, I bent. My chest, my breasts, they pressed into the counter as I spread my legs and gave him my ass.

  His fingers, wet from my desire and the orgasm he’d released inside me before I’d gotten dressed, coasted over my ass, then he pressed one finger in.

  Going up on tiptoe, I gasped.

  His other hand found my clit and circled.

  “Sawyer,” I pleaded, barely still holding my dress up.

  He sank his second finger inside my ass and dragged his nail over my clit. “Come.”

  His rough command was all it took.

  Bent over the bathroom counter, my cocktail dress in my arms, his fingers in my ass and on my clit, I came.

  And I shook.

  Because no matter how many times he made me come, he was wrong. My body never got more accustomed to him. It only became more insatiable.

  As if reading my wayward thoughts, his back covered mine and his mouth found my ear as his fingers drove deep. “Get ready for me, baby, because I’m going to come here later tonight, filling you everywhere.” Drawing out the last word like a warning instead of promise, he bit my neck. “Give me the rest of that orgasm,” he roughly whispered, pinching my clit as the last of my release wrecked me.

  “Oh God,” I practically wept. “Sawyer.”

  His mouth found mine as he eased his fingers out of me, kissing me slow and languid until I stopped shaking. Then he stood to his full height and brought me up with him.

  Staring at me in the mirror, he touched his lips to my temple. “Straighten up. The car’s downstairs.”

  “Car?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath. He usually drove his SUV whenever we went anywhere.

  “Yes.” He winked at me. “Hurry.” He walked out of the bathroom.

  I gripped the edge of the counter and exhaled. Holy shit, that man. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve him, but I didn’t question it. Not anymore. I straightened the deep olive silk dress he’d bought me, and I slipped on the gold bangle bracelet he’d given me after I’d moved in. Stepping back into my heels that matched my dress, I looked in the mirror.

  I looked freshly fucked, and it looked good on me.

  Sawyer looked good on me.

  A smile spread across my face at my ridiculousness, and I walked out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until I was in the entry, taking his outstretched hand, that I realized what he’d done.

  “You did that on purpose,” I accused.

  “Did what?” He led us to the elevator.

  “Gave me an orgasm to calm my nerves.”

  Flashing me a hint of a smile in his sideways glance as we stepped into the elevator, he winked. “You have no reason to be nervous. My sister’s relatively harmless.”

  I scoffed. “Right. A woman who runs a multibillion-dollar company for your father is harmless.”

  “I said relatively. I wouldn’t cross her in the boardroom.”

  Terrific.

  He squeezed my hand. “I heard that.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  His thumb stroked across the top of my hand as the elevator opened to the lobby. “Relax.”

  I didn’t have a chance to respond.

  Preston was standing there waiting in a Luna and Associates uniform. Looking everywhere but at us, he barely made eye contact with Sawyer and completely ignored me. “All set?”

  Sawyer tipped his chin and rattled off an address downtown.

  “Copy.” Preston walked ahead and held first the door out of the lobby for us, then the back door to one of the Luna and Associates Escalades.

  I got in first and Sawyer followed.

  Before Preston got behind the wheel, I looked at Sawyer. “What’s this all about? You never use the guys at work to ferry us around. You only have one of them pick me up on occasion when you can’t get me from work.” Sawyer had taken to driving me and picking me up every day at the art gallery at my new job.

  I admit, at first, I was taken aback by his steadfastness at making sure I got to work safely, as he put it, but now I enjoyed the extra time I got to spend with him. And I looked forward to seeing him when he picked me up.

  He leaned over and kissed my temple. “Maybe I want to have a drink with you at dinner.”

  Sawyer didn’t drink.

  Neither did I.

  I studied him as Preston got behind the wheel. “You’re up to something.”

  “Which entrance do you want?” Preston asked as he eased into early evening traffic. “Garage or lobby?”

  “Lobby,” Sawyer answered.

  “Copy,” Preston responded.

 
I stared at Sawyer. “You still haven’t answered.”

  Chuckling, he leaned back in his seat.

  “Okay, that’s it.” Sawyer never chuckled, and he definitely never sat casually, or even relaxed, let alone leaned back. “Tell me.”

  His hand landed on my thigh, and his eyes got a look I knew well before he dropped his voice. “Watch it,” he warned, inching his hand under the hem of my dress.

  I closed my mouth and my legs.

  He squeezed my knee, and we rode in silence the rest of the way to downtown Miami. Preston pulled up in front a giant, modern steel and glass high-rise with the words Savatier Holdings emblazoned at the top.

  My heart rate kicked up and my nerves itched at my skin as Preston opened the door and Sawyer helped me out of the SUV.

  “We won’t be long,” Sawyer told Preston.

  “Ten-four.” Preston nodded before getting back behind the wheel.

  Sawyer led me through the automatic doors of the impressive granite-tiled lobby and to an isolated elevator at the far end of the room. A security guard greeted Sawyer by name, and a few people nodded at him, but otherwise, the people leaving work for the day swept past us.

  Sawyer placed his thumb on a fingerprint scanner beside the elevator. The doors immediately slid open, and once we were inside, he pressed the button for the top floor.

  I tried to exhale through my nerves as the elevator ascended. Despite Sawyer saying we would be in and out, that it was only routine paperwork he needed to sign, I felt like something was off.

  Squeezing my hand, Sawyer slid his thumb across my knuckles. “It’s going to be fine. Stop worrying.”

  “What if she hates me?” I had found out that Sawyer barely had any relationship with his father, occasionally tolerated his sister, and texted his mother once a week. He’d also sent his mother a picture of us. I’d thought it was cute, but now I was just praying she wouldn’t be here.

  “She won’t hate you,” Sawyer reassured. “She reserves that honor for me.”

  “That’s not funny,” I scolded as the elevator stopped and the door slid open to a lavishly appointed reception area with an even more elegant young blonde behind the reception desk.

  The blonde got up and walked toward us, holding her hand out to Sawyer. “Mr. Savatier,” she cooed in some kind of fake-sounding accent. “Such a pleasure to see you.”

  Sawyer briefly shook her hand. “Raquel.”

  Raquel barely glanced at me. “And who do we have here?”

  “Miss James, Raquel. Raquel, Miss James,” he clipped. “Is Savina in her office?”

  “Yes, of course.” Raquel smiled only at Sawyer. “Can I show you the way?”

  “No.” Dismissing her, keeping his hand on the small of my back, Sawyer led me down a long hallway of mostly dark offices now that it was almost six p.m.

  “I kinda hate Raquel,” I admitted in a hushed whisper.

  Sawyer took my hand and squeezed it once. “Me too. Always have.”

  That made me smile as he took a right turn and led us to a corner office.

  Pausing to kiss my forehead, Sawyer smiled down at me. “Don’t be nervous. It’ll be fine, we’ll be in and out.” He knocked once on the door.

  “Come in,” a female voice called from inside.

  Sawyer pushed the door open and, one stride inside, he froze. “What the fuck, Savina?”

  Sullivan Savatier, his wife, and a tall, thin blonde woman who could have been Sawyer’s twin all stood in front of an ornate desk that overlooked the Miami skyline.

  “Do not speak to your sister like that,” Sullivan Savatier boomed, his angry expression matching his son’s.

  Oh God.

  “I’ll speak to her any damn way I want when she ambushes me with a family reunion,” Sawyer barked.

  “Oh, shut up, both of you.” Sawyer’s sister pushed past both men like it was nothing and walked right at me. Her smile practiced, her poise professional, she held out her hand. “I’m Savina. You must Genevieve. Ignore these two.” She nodded at her father and brother.

  Swallowing past the sudden dryness in my throat, I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t just beautiful, she was stunning.

  Sawyer wrapped his arm around me. “Introduction’s over, we’re leaving. Courier the damn paperwork.”

  “Sawyer, please.” His mother spoke up. “Don’t go.”

  Sawyer didn’t relent. “I’ll talk to you next week, Mom. Savina, you’re on my shit list.” He turned us toward the door.

  “You walk out that door, you lose everything,” his father boomed.

  Sawyer’s entire body stiffened. Slow, with a deadly calm, he turned to face his father. “Are you threatening me?”

  “You think we don’t know what’s going on here?” Without taking his lethal glare off Sawyer, Sullivan Savatier tipped his chin at me. “You think we don’t know you’re shacked up in my penthouse with her? A nobody, an orphan,” he spit out. “The writing’s on the wall, son, grow up.”

  Sawyer’s nostrils flared. “What did you just call me?”

  “Like it or not, you are, and will always be, my son,” Sullivan snapped, pointing his finger at Sawyer.

  Sawyer growled with rage. “You stopped being a father the minute you—”

  “Enough!” Mrs. Savatier stepped between them. “Both of you, cut this out!” She turned to her son. “Sawyer, we just want to reason with you. We know you like this young woman.” She paused to smile warily at me. “And she’s so very lovely.” She looked back at her son. “But we want you to just… play it safe.” She grasped his shoulder.

  Ignoring his mother, Sawyer glared at his sister. “You did this.”

  I wanted to sink into the thick carpet.

  “Oh come on, Sawyer.” Savina threw her hands up. “She’s living with you, and she hasn’t even signed an NDA.”

  A nondisclosure agreement? Holy fucking shit. I stepped out of Sawyer’s grasp. “I think it’s best if I wait outside.” I forced a smile for Sawyer. “I’ll wait with Preston.” I turned toward the door.

  “No,” Sawyer barked.

  My back stiffened.

  “Is that what the Marines taught you?” Sullivan’s deep voice, not unlike his son’s, boomed. “To yell at women?”

  “At least I don’t cheat on them,” Sawyer threw back.

  “Sawyer!” Both Mrs. Sullivan and Savina yelled.

  “All of you can go to hell.” Sawyer grabbed my hand.

  “She needs to sign an NDA and a prenup,” Savina warned.

  “I haven’t asked her to marry me yet!” Sawyer roared.

  Oh my fucking God. Marry?

  “If you marry her without a prenup, you lose everything,” Sullivan threatened.

  “Don’t fucking threaten me unless you have the balls to back it up. The penthouse is in my name, and you can’t touch the trust or my seat on the board,” Sawyer threw back.

  Savina sighed. “Yes, he can.”

  Sawyer’s chest heaving, he was clearly taken off guard, because he didn’t immediately retort.

  “Got your attention now, boy?” Sullivan almost gloated. “You watch who you’re talking to, son.” He pointed an ugly finger at me, but kept his glare on Sawyer. “You marry this orphan without her signing an ironclad prenup, you get nothing. Read the terms of your trust.” He pushed past him, but paused at the door. “How’s that for balls?” Walking out, he slammed the door behind him.

  “We just want to protect you, Sawyer,” his mother quietly added.

  Sawyer’s glare cut to his mother. “You should’ve left him twenty years ago.” Turning on his sister, he spit more anger out. “Keep the trust. I don’t give a shit about my seat on my board.” Yanking the door open, then grabbing my hand, Sawyer led me out of the office.

  Stunned speechless, I let Sawyer lead me back to the elevator. The receptionist gone, the private elevator thankfully still waiting for us, I thought I would be able to breathe again in a few seconds once we got back o
utside, but Sawyer pressed the button for the floor below the one we were on instead of the lobby.

  I took my hand back and crossed my arms. “What are you doing?” My voice shook.

  The elevator opened to the floor below. Almost an exact replica of the floor above, but slightly less lavish, the space thankfully didn’t have a receptionist behind the desk, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be here. I needed to get out of this building.

  Without a word, Sawyer took my hand and pulled me down another long hall as he fished keys out of his pocket. When we got to the corner of the building, he slid the key into a closed office door and threw it open, dragging me inside.

  “Where are we?” I asked nervously.

  “My office,” he clipped, shutting the door and pushing me against it.

  I barely had time to take in the perfectly placed desk and furniture that looked like it’d never been used. “You have an office here?”

  “Yes.” Taking both of my wrists and pinning them over my head, Sawyer leaned into me. “What did I promise you?” he asked roughly.

  Oh God. “Don’t you dare,” I warned. “Not here.” I knew that voice.

  His nostrils flared, but his voice turned even quieter. “What did I promise you, Genevieve?”

  My eyes welled. “Please don’t do this.”

  “I’m not taking your clothes off.” His jaw ticked. “What did I promise you?”

  “That you wouldn’t hurt me.” I wanted to cry. But not for me. For him. His family was awful. No wonder he’d hid me away from them for the weeks we’d been together.

  His shoulders relaxed marginally, and he inhaled. Then he threw me. “What have I told you about you taking birth control?”

  “That you don’t want me on it,” I answered, remembering our conversation that night weeks ago.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  Heat flamed my cheeks. “Because you said you want children…” I was barely able to swallow past the lump in my throat. “With me,” I whispered.

  “What does that tell you?” he demanded.

  “That you love me.” Because he’d also told me later that night that he would be honored to adopt or foster children with me, but that he also very much wanted to see my body swell with his child. I’d smiled with joy and half joked that we could have three and adopt three. He’d very seriously agreed, and I’d fallen asleep in his arms.