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Thanks so much for posting another excerpt for me, Nikki! It’s been a lot of fun! Berkley gave me back the rights to the two stories I published in the anthology Twin Peaks. They never put this anthology out in ebook, so finally, I’m going to do that for readers. The first story is Double the Pleasure, to be released at the beginning of May, and the second is Skin Deep, coming out at the beginning of June. Here’s a little taste! Be sure to leave a comment and your email address to be entered in the drawing for a pdf copy of Revenge Sex.
Double the Pleasure
Prescott Twins, Book 1
One night, one chance, but will she have the courage…
Hitting the big 3-0 birthday like a brick wall, shy, reserved Kristin Prescott just has to break out of her sensible shoes and buttoned-up blouses and find herself a man. And the only one who will do is Ross Sloan, her sexy boss. The problem is, she isn’t Ross’s type; he prefers sensual, seductive women like her identical twin. But, Kristin isn’t sure she can let go of her inhibitions.
Unless she pretends to be her sister.
Ross Sloan has lusted after his secretary, Kristin Prescott, since the moment she walked into his office. When she seduces him while playing the role of her twin sister, he sees through her masquerade immediately. But Ross wants both sides of Kristin: the prim, efficient woman who runs his office and the passionate woman she exposes in the guise of her sister. Forcing Kristin to release her inhibitions and claiming the desirable woman beneath the facade becomes his ambition.
But will the pleasure cost them their business relationship? Or can they have both?
“I think, for your thirtieth birthday, you should seduce a man.”
Kristin Prescott blushed and said a little thank-you prayer that the only other occupant of the steam room had vacated moments before Kirby’s declaration.
Kristin tried to sound flip. “It’s your birthday, too. You do the seducing.”
“My darling sister, I have a vibrator, I don’t need a man. You, on the other hand—”
“I don’t need a vibrator or a man.” Okay, so maybe she needed both, the man definitely more than the vibrator. Sweat dripped off Kristin’s nose, steam pumped from the valve, and the overpowering scent of eucalyptus made it hard to breathe.
Kirby went on relentlessly. “You’ve got to repair your self-esteem.”
“My self-esteem?” A nasty telltale squeak laced her voice.
“Kristin, you’re sadly lacking in the confidence department.”
“I’ve got plenty of confidence.” Not.
“Sure, in your job you do. But get you around a pack of hot-looking guys, and you let yourself fade into the wallpaper.”
Kristin rubbed perspiration from her forehead. “You’ve got me there. I can’t deny it.”
“That’s why you haven’t been on a date since Blake…left.”
“You can say he dumped me.” Her fiancé had given her the heave-ho over six months ago. It wasn’t that Kristin wasn’t over him, she was, it was just… “I haven’t found anyone interesting.”
Except Ross Sloan. Her boss. All he noticed about her, though, were her flawless memos and intricate spreadsheets. She didn’t think he even knew her first name.
Kirby snorted, but didn’t comment on Kristin’s little evasion. “Did I ever tell you what an asshole your ex-fiancé was?” The sisters thought differently about sex, career, marriage, everything, but Kirby was loyal.
“And I love you for saying that.”
Still, Blake’s final crack had slipped beneath Kristin’s skin like a nasty sliver.
Why can’t you be hot and sexy like your twin sister?
The answer was right beside her. Kirby, naked, stretched out on her stomach, her towel draped over the tile beneath her; Kristin, primly seated on the step above, her own towel wrapped tightly, covering her from armpits to thighs. They were identical twins, but in looks alone; their manners and personalities were completely opposite.
With his last words to her, Blake hit Kristin smack dab in the middle of her biggest insecurity—she didn’t have what it took to be anything like Kirby, except on the outside. She wasn’t sexy. She wasn’t hot. But she didn’t dislike sex the way Blake had accused. In fact she’d imagined…yes, she could say the words in her head, she’d thought of going down on Mr. Sloan. In his office.
“Well, forget the little bastard.”
She didn’t think her boss would turn out to be little in any sense of the word. Oh! Kirby was still talking about Blake.
“He was too short for you anyway. And balding. You were way too good for him.” Image was all-important to Kirby. “You’ve just let that whole business beat you down.
“He didn’t beat me down,” Kristin protested.
He’d merely caught on to something she’d known since her first time during college, that she wasn’t good at sex. She hadn’t given him complete satisfaction. She certainly hadn’t found it for herself. Still, in her fantasies, Kristin was like her sister. She did all sorts of toe-tingling sexual things. With her boss. Those thoughts actually made her hot, and she didn’t have any trouble melting into orgasm.
Kirby studied her. “Have it your way. Blake didn’t beat you down. But did he ever make you climax? Even once?”
“Kirby.” There’d been a few, but none particularly memorable.
Nothing like the remarkably memorable ones she’d had while fantasizing about Mr. Sloan, no vibrator necessary.
“Kristin,” her sister mimicked her tone. “Which means he didn’t, right?”
She and Kirby had never really discussed her sexual relationship with Blake. Kirby would have had all sorts of great advice, the first being that the lack of sparks under the covers wasn’t all Kristin’s fault, and Kirby would have been right. Kristin knew that intellectually, but get her heart to believe it? Not an easy accomplishment. Especially when her insecurity problems started with comparing herself to her sexy, hot, over-the-top, confident sister in the first place.
“Could we please talk about something else?”
Kirby spread her hands. “You know what they say. When a horse dumps you, you have to get right back in the saddle and ride again. You need to start dating.”
The old adage that time healed all wounds—as bad a cliché as Kirby’s—was also completely wrong. The longer Kristin waited to hop back into the dating arena, the worse the fear of failing once again.
When Kristin didn’t comment, Kirby rolled onto her back and crossed her legs at the ankles, not indicating an ounce of embarrassment with her nudity.
“Kristin, we’ve got to break out of the rut we’re in.”
Thank God for the change of topic. “We? What is it you want to change?”
“Your wardrobe?” Kristin echoed, suddenly confused.
“Yes. I’m going to throw out that little red dress. You know, the one you salivated over at Neiman Marcus last New Year’s.”
“I didn’t salivate.” Kristin had.
“You said it cost too much”—it certainly did—“but you know you just thought it was too sexy for you. Which is ridiculous.”
“If I’d worn it, I’d have looked ridiculous. It was too red, too glitzy, too…not me.” Still, she’d adored the sequined bodice and the full, flirty skirt.
She’d wanted that dress badly; only she hadn’t bought it because she’d been comparing herself unfavorably to Kirby. Again.
“You can have it if you want it. Otherwise, I’m sending it to the consignment store.” That was a lie. Kirby was using reverse psychology. “But if you take it, you have to wear it to our birthday party Friday night.”
Ah, the punchline. It was really Kirby’s birthday party, she was throwing it herself. But she’d added Kristin’s name to the invitation. Kristin had chosen the half-day celebration she and Kirby were having right now: a morning off work, a lovely brunch, a good facial, a steam bath. And no need for a stunning red dress.
“I couldn’t wear it.” Could she? Kristin took a deep breath of eucalyptus. If push came to shove, maybe. She needed a push. And a shove.
“There’s going to be tons of gorgeous men there.” Kirby glanced at her. “You can practice your seduction techniques.”
“I don’t have any techniques.”
She could, however, use the stuff of her fantasies. If she found a man who reminded her of Mr. Sloan.
Kirby grimaced. “You’ll learn quickly enough. If you’ve got any balls when it comes to men, that is.”
Kristin would have laughed if Kirby’s words hadn’t been so on target. “I have tons of…cajones.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. She was turning thirty, and she didn’t even have the courage to put on a sexy dress. Pitiful.
“Chicken,” Kirby couldn’t seem to resist adding.
How long could she go on being afraid of a little red dress? A year? Ten years? Fifty years, living with nothing but fantasies, her body aging, gravity taking over, biological clock in overdrive? Oh. No. The thought was more debilitating than the idea of seducing a room full of Kirby’s gorgeous men. She wouldn’t be merely an old maid, she’d be a shriveled husk. God forbid.
Could she get back on the horse? Actually, the question was more about what her life would become if she didn’t?
“All right, I’ll wear the dress.” She’d find the cajonessomewhere. “And I want to borrow the shoes that go with it, too.”
Maybe someday she’d even have the courage to wear something equally provocative to work to see if Ross Sloan finally noticed her. Maybe, just maybe, his eyes would pop out and he’d ask what her first name was.
As promised I am back with Jasmine Haynes as she visits for this whole month of April. Here is her promised excerpt of Revenge Sex! Please make sure to comment and show her some love. The contest for the PDF of Revenge Sex is still going on till April 15th! So leave your email address with your comment as that will be how you will get the PDF if you win!
Fair warning it is explicit…
West Coast Series, Book 1
A brand new series about sexy hotwives and the men who love them
A man, the hotwife he can’t control…and the woman who wants to fix what’s wrong with him.
Tough, autocratic CFO Clay Blackwell strikes both fear and loyalty into the hearts of his employees. But he’s got one quirk no one at West Coast Manufacturing knows; he loves the idea of his live-in girlfriend Ruby being with another man…then coming home to him for the best sex of his life as she describes every naughty detail. He’s only got three stipulations: no sex with anyone from work, no sex with another man in their own home, and she always has to tell him when she has a date. The problem? What to do with a “hotwife” who has all the freedom any woman could want, but still can’t follow three simple rules.
Jessica Murphy has the utmost respect and admiration for her CFO. She also has wild sex fantasies about Clay every night. Not that she’d ever tell anyone. Until she walks in on Clay’s girlfriend Ruby screwing Bradley the financial analyst right on Clay’s desk.
All bets are off and a little revenge sex is the name of the game. Ruby thinks she’ll placate Clay by telling him to have sex with another woman to pay her back for all her rule-breaking. When Jessica learns about that, she makes up her mind to seduce her boss for keeps, not just one night of revenge.
But can she become the more-than-one-man woman Clay Blackwell wants? Or will his desires tear them apart?
West Coast Series, Book 1
Copyright 2011 Jasmine Haynes
Hoisting her onto the desktop, Bradley spread her legs and yanked on her pretty purple thong.
“Oh yeah, baby, that’s it, rip them off.” Ruby loved Bradley’s he-man act. Of course, the panties didn’t tear, but so what, he still managed to slide the thong down her legs and toss it into the corner.
Ruby was wet and ready before Bradley even licked her. She’d been wet all day planning the naughty little encounter.
“I’m going to make you scream,” he boasted, then he put his tongue to her.
And truly, she did want to scream. “Oh, that’s so right, baby. Clay never does it like that. He never finds the right spot.” Bradley always needed a little ego boost to get him going, and what better way than to tell him how much better he was than Clay, her live-in boyfriend, lover—whatever you wanted to call him—and most importantly, Bradley’s boss.
Leaning back on her elbows, she drew her knees up so she could watch every move he made. His hair was a lustrous dark brown against the perfect white flesh of her thighs. His shoulders were wide, and she loved the sight of him in his white dress shirt as he went to town on her. Ruby enjoyed watching a man make love to her with his mouth. She loved the brush of soft hair against her skin, and the bristle of Bradley’s perpetual quarter-inch growth of beard. She relished each and every sensation.
She especially loved cuckolding Clay on his very big desk at ten o’clock on a weeknight after the cleaners had all gone home. His second-floor office overlooked the parking lot and road, yet with the conference table between the windows and Clay’s desk, they were virtually unnoticeable from the outside. So Ruby had left the lights on, all the better to see Bradley down between her legs.
“Ooh,” she crooned. “Clay hardly ever licks me.” She moaned. “And I so love the way you do it.” Bradley was twenty-nine and a mere financial analyst, so she had to find ways to coax the best out of him—young men still had so much to learn. One of those ways was to tell him how much more virile he was than his boss, or rather, his boss twice removed. Bradley worked for the finance manager who in turn worked for Clay, but really, it was Clay Bradley had to impress. To be honest, Clay didn’t always appreciate Bradley’s work, so Ruby had made it her mission to help the young man feel he was good enough in other realms. Like doing her nine ways to Sunday. On a Wednesday night.
Then she stopped thinking and let sensation take over. “Don’t stop, lick me, baby, just like that.” The heat built inside her, ready to burst, yet she pushed it off a little longer, like riding a magnificent wave just before it crashes.
Bradley put two fingers inside her the way she’d taught him, and found her G-spot right away. Oh, that boy was improving. She shuddered, then cried out, “Yes, yes, yes.” And the climax pulsed through her body.
Before it could end, she grabbed Bradley by the hair. “Fuck me now.”
Bradley grabbed her hips, and rolled her over, her stomach bare against the cool wood of the desk. She loved it from behind, pushed against a hard surface, taken, almost forced. Especially when Clay took her this way. He was so big, so tall, three inches taller than Bradley’s six feet.
Behind her, Bradley made fast work of the condom. “It’s going to be so good, you won’t want to even go home to him.”
She didn’t tell him that would never happen; better not to spoil the moment. “When he does me, baby, I imagine it’s you.” Actually, when Bradley did her, she imagined telling Clay about it later, how hot he’d get, how it turned him into a wild man. Her wild man.
Bradley plunged deep. Glorying in the feel of him, she stretched out her hands, accidentally knocking over the photo of Clay and his two teenage sons. Oops. But oh, this was good, so very good. He was young and strong, his technique not better than Clay’s, just different. It still needed refining, but he was a fast learner, at least in the sex department. She adored teaching a young man new tricks. She was forty years old—a hot little number, if she did say so herself—and proud of her toned figure and that her face had only a smattering of age lines. She was better than she’d ever been. Bradley couldn’t get enough of her.
“Oh my God,” she cried out. “You fill me up. You’re so much bigger and thicker than Clay.”
At her words, Bradley went crazy, assured of how much more virile he was than Clay. These young men performed so well when you told them what they wanted to hear. Stretching out her arms, she curled her fingers around the edge of the desk and gave herself up to the moment, to the feel of a hard, young cock inside her and the second sweet climb to the pinnacle.
* * * * *
Jessica Murphy jerked, then snapped to a sitting position on the break room sofa. In the dark, the microwave clock flipped to ten-oh-five in bright blue letters. Good Lord, all she’d wanted to do was rest her eyes, a five-minute catnap; she’d slept for over an hour. The board meeting was on Friday, and she needed to review the March quarterly financials tomorrow with Clay Blackwell, her CFO. But there was an issue in CIP, the construction-in-progress account.
A noise had woken her. It couldn’t be the cleaning staff; they’d left before her so-called catnap. She rose from the couch, crossing to the door by the illumination of the microwave clock. The hallway was dark. She’d turned out all the lights, not wanting to waste electricity, especially when she was accounting manager for West Coast Manufacturing, which meant she knew exactly how much the PG&E bill was.
There it was again. Bracing herself against the doorframe, she strained to hear. A moan. Then she was sure she could make out voices, though the words were indistinguishable. She shivered slightly. The automatic thermostat turned the heating down at nine, raising it again at six in the morning. Despite being the beginning of April, the San Francisco Bay Area was still chilly at night.
Stepping out into the hallway, which bordered all the cubicles in the middle of the large accounting department, she made out lights on the far side. From the CFO’s office. But Clay had been long gone before she’d crashed on the break room sofa. Obviously, he’d come back.
What if he’d discovered her sleeping? Jessica fluffed her hair, which was curly and tended to get mashed after she slept on it. It must look like a rat’s nest. And her lipstick was probably smudged. She ran a finger under each eye to get rid of any mascara, then smoothed beneath her lips, hoping that was good enough to fix the lipstick. She hated the idea of Clay Blackwell seeing her at anything less than her best. He lived with the CEO’s executive admin, Ruby Williams, and Jessica didn’t have designs on him—she wasn’t a home wrecker—but she admired Clay immensely and…well…a woman could have her fantasies in the middle of the night when no one else suspected.
All right, nothing could be done about her appearance now. She marched down the small walkway between the cubicles, and the sounds from the other side of the thin dividers grew exponentially louder with every step she took. Jessica’s heart started to pound, and she thought about turning around and getting the hell out. Because really, what was Clay Blackwell doing in his office? And just who was he with?
She might have run, too, if she hadn’t heard distinct words in a female voice—“Clay’s never fucked me like this”—punctuated by a man’s low growl of pleasure.
Turning the corner by the end of a cubicle wall, Jessica could see straight into Clay’s office. Her breath stopped in her chest.
Ruby Williams was facedown on the desk, skirt pushed up over her butt, dark hair flowing around her shoulders, eyes closed, her red lips parted on a moan of intense pleasure. Behind her, Bradley Palmer slammed into her, each thrust shoving her across the desk.
Don’t miss Ruby’s story in Submitting to the Boss, West Coast Book 2.
Now tell me who doesn’t want to win that?! Hot and steamy Jasmine Haynes always delivers! Please also stop by her site: http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com
Now tell me who doesn’t want to win that?! Hot and steamy Jasmine Haynes always delivers! Please also stop by her site: http://www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com
Please welcome author Jasmine Haynes to my blog. She has decided to grace us with a wonderful interview and excerpt of one of her books. She is going to have a give away a PDF copy of Revenge Sex to one lucky person, so please leave your name and your email address along with a comment and stop by and follow her on her blog/website @ www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com from April 2-15. Now on to the interview and an excerpt from Submitting to the Boss.
Jasmine Haynes, Rita Finalist for Somebody’s Lover, plus two-time Holt Medallion and National Readers Choice Award winner, is the author of over 30 classy, erotic romance tales. Look for her West Coast series, starting with Revenge Sex. Of course, she’s also the author of the award-winning Max Starr psychic mystery series. And don’t miss her writing as Jennifer Skully, KOD Daphne award-winning author, bringing you poignant tales peopled with hilarious characters that will make you laugh and make you cry.
Nikki: Welcome Jasmine and thank you for visiting me here on this blog and at my review blog (http://www.epicallyromanticbyebonydreams.blogspot.com) for this month of April!
Thanks so much for having me on your blog! I had such fun answering your questions. And here they are!
How long does it take you to write a book?
A full-length novel, including revision and editing time, takes four to five months to write. Novellas, of course, are much faster, I can write one in about six to eight weeks. For a novella, there’s usually no subplot, so it takes a lot less time, and the most important thing is the emotion.
When did you write your first book and how old were you?
I wrote my first book in high school. I was 17. I took a creative writing class, and we were supposed to write two short stories. I asked the teacher if I could write a novel instead and turn in chapters. She was delighted! It was a gothic romance, which is what I loved reading. And it was all handwritten!
What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
I’m a big walker. I live in mountain foothills, and there’s a nearby state park where I can hike. I’m also close to the beach, so it’s always fun to walk down there, too. My mother is a great walker as well, and I visit her every other week, where we take a nice walk (at her speed), and play lots of cards. She loves card games. And of course, I enjoy my movies and TV shows in the evening! We just finished watching Game of Thrones and The Killing, both of which I loved.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?
I’ve published over 30 books. Fool’s Gold (under my pseudonym Jennifer Skully and recently reissued as an ebook) is my favorite. It’s a romantic comedy with a mystery thrown in, and the little town the story takes place in, Goldstone, was patterned after the town where my brother-in-law lives. It’s sort of a derelict place, but there are so many fun and interesting characters living there. I loved writing about that little town. And some of the background in the story comes from stories my brother-in-law told me, like the outhouse excavating and the Twinkie caper. You’ll have to read it to find out more! The first book in the “Cottonmouth series”, as I call it, is She’s Gotta Be Mine. Brax, the sheriff, is a major character in the first story, then gets his own story in Fool’s Gold. Readers can learn more about Cottonmouth at www.jenniferskully.com
Do you have any suggestions to help me become a better writer? If so, what are they?
I have three suggestions for new writers. First, take classes and learn your craft. There are a ton of online writing seminars out there to choose from. Second, find a good critique group or partner. Another eye is always good for pointing out flaws we can’t see ourselves. And third, finish the story. Don’t endlessly rewrite. I’ve seen a lot of writers who can’t get past the first few chapters because they keep rewriting them. BTW, I know you don’t have that problem, Nikki!
Which of your characters is your favorite?
Ladybird Long in the Max Starr series is my favorite character. She is my hero Detective Witt Long’s mother. I enjoyed writing her because she is so opposite to him. She’s ditzy and flightly, and she talks to her husband’s ghost. She first appears in the series in book 3, Desperate to the Max. And meeting her gives my heroine Max totally new insight to Witt. She loves how he treats his mother: slightly embarrassed but very loving. The series starts with Dead to the Max and there are currently five books. The love story between Detective Witt Long and Max spans all five books in the series, and in my opinion, it’s heartwrenching. The series is chock full of psychics, ghosts, visions, murder, and romance! Readers can learn more about the Max Starr series at www.jbskully.com
Have you ever been surprised by a controversy among fans or reviewers – for example, you created a character without thinking too much about what people would think of him, and found some readers loved him and some hated him?
LOL, funny you should ask! The biggest controversy I ever had was on Kinky Neighbors, the story I did as a free read on my blog, but it’s also available as an ebook on all the major Internet retailers. I totally did not expect readers to get so into the characters, especially the bad girl, Cat. They had all sorts of things they wanted me to do to Cat to make her pay. I really enjoyed the discussion. And luckily, it appeared readers were pleased with what I did in the end. However, I’ve had many requests for a sequel so people can find out what happens to the characters, and here’s a little secret I’m going to reveal to you and your blog readers first! I’m planning a sequel, the length of a short story, I think. I’ll call it Kinky Neighbors: Cat and Logan’s Comeuppance!
Tell us about your newest release.
I’ve started a new novella series called the “West Coast” series. I’ve created a small company in Silicon Valley, peopled with hot, powerful men and sexy ladies, and there’s a lot of naughty hijinx going on. It’s what I call a “hot-wifing” series in that some of the heroines in the stories have multiple partners with their boyfriend’s or husband’s permission. The first story is Revenge Sex, about a sex triangle. For my romance fans, there is always a happily-ever-after, even if it isn’t strictly traditional. Revenge Sex came out in December, and in March, I released the second book, Submitting to the Boss. I have at least 2 more stories planned in the series, but of course, that could always grow! Readers can learn more about the West Coast series on my website, www.jasminehaynes.com
What can the readers expect from you in the near future?
I’ve got some reissues planned. My two stories from Twin Peaks have never been offered in ebook format. So I’ve gotten the rights back for those two and will be releasing them as the Prescott Twins: Double the Pleasure and Skin Deep. These are actually my first two stories that were published, and I really enjoyed writing about twin sisters whose personalities are polar opposites. They’ll be available at the beginning of May and the beginning of June.
I’m also going to start a new paranormal series. I absolutely adored an old book called The Reincarnation of Peter Proud, and I’ve have always wanted to write about reincarnation. So I’m going to write the Haunted series: Twisted by Love, Haunted by Love, and Possessed by Love. Readers can expect something more along the lines of my Max Starr series, with a bit of paranormal, a dash of romance, and a big mystery!
Where can we find your book(s)?
My books are available at all the major Internet retailers, and of course, the books I write for Berkley Heat are in bookstores now. Readers can visit my website to learn more about my books, www.jasminehaynes.com, www.jenniferskully.com, and www.jbskully.com. I also do free reads on my blog and I love new readers: www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com. I will be giving away a PDF copy of the first West Coast book, Revenge Sex, to one randomly selected commenter on my blog from April 2 to April 15. And I’ll do the same here for commenters on your blog, randomly select one winner. So readers have two chances to win!
Now here’s the promised excerpt of Submitting to the Boss!
West Coast, Jasmine’s new series about sexy hot wives and the men who love them.
In Revenge Sex (Book 1), Ruby Williams broke a few too many rules. In Submitting to the Boss (Book 2), she’s about to get her comeuppance.
A woman who still needs to learn her lesson, and a man oh so willing to train her…
Ruby Williams completely underestimated her live-in lover. She thought she had him wrapped around her little finger, and she could do anything she wanted without any consequences. Now she’s just another dumped woman bemoaning her fate.
Then her boss, West Coast Manufacturing’s CEO Holt Montgomery, calls her into his office and gives her the punishment she so richly deserves.
Holt is determined to show Ruby the error of her ways with his own special brand of dominance and submission. Her sexuality now belongs to him, and he’ll give her permission as to when, where, how, and with whom she’ll use it. From voyeurism to exhibitionism to more than one man at a time, with a little tying up and a lot of spanking, Ruby discovers she likes following a man’s rules. But she still won’t let a man have the upper hand.
Can their naughty affair move from just sex with the boss to something more lasting? Or will Ruby learn her lessons a little too late?
Drop by Jasmine’s blog, www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com to read the first chapter of Submitting to the Boss. Then here’s a brand new excerpt! But be warned, it’s explicit!
Submitting to the Boss
West Coast Series, Book 2
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Never in his four-year history with Ruby Williams had Holt witnessed that deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes. It wasn’t Ruby’s style. If you looked up self-assured woman in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of Ruby right beside it.
More gorgeous than a forty-year-old woman had a right to be, with dark hair falling past her shoulders, deep brown, very knowing eyes, and long legs that made a man dream of running his hands up them to the hem of her short skirt, Ruby had no doubt of her sex appeal. She was efficient yet never cowed, sexy in her choice of clothing—some might even say halfway to being slutty—but always professional in her dealings him and any visitors to his office, be they subordinates, vendors, auditors, or customers. She was his gateway.
Yet after four years, she was about to become more.
Holt folded his arms over his chest and regarded her with a steady gaze. “Stand up,” he ordered.
She was elegantly tall, and he especially enjoyed her spiked heels, which put her on eye level with him as she rose from the chair. A creamy vee of cleavage was bared above the jacket of her less-than-staid suit. Her full breasts were a mouthwatering sight, and her lips were painted a ruby red to match her name. At the moment, however, they were minus their usual seductive smile.
“What’s this all about, Holt?”
“Pull the blinds.”
She glanced over her shoulder. The window view was of the lawn, a few shrubs, West Coast’s monument sign, and the road curving around to the freeway. It was unlikely that anyone would glance in his window, but his plan called for the privacy of closed blinds.
He cut her off with a look. “By not obeying immediately, you’ll make the punishment worse.”
“Well—” Obviously on the verge of arguing, she stopped herself this time. She actually bit her lip momentarily before realizing what she was doing. Ruby wasn’t a lip-biter or a hand-wringer. “So I’m supposed to just do whatever you tell me to”—she raised a brow—“then everything will be the way it was?”
He allowed long seconds to pass before he answered. First he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Ruby’s gaze fell below his waist. Her eyes widened. He’d been making plans, and planning had made him hard.
“Nothing will be the way it was,” he said. “Everything has changed. Close the blinds. Now.”
Ruby swallowed. She had the long, beautiful neck of a swan. He imagined touching his tongue to the hollow of her throat, tasting her. Those were the kind of thoughts that made him harder still.
Ruby took a step back, toward the bank of windows behind the sofa, as if she were afraid to turn her back on him. Finally she pivoted, skirted the coffee table, and leaned with one knee on the sofa to reach the pull. The blinds snapped closed. It wouldn’t be dark for another three hours, but the shades bathed the room in shadow.
He shoved the chair she’d been sitting in back beneath the conference table, then stood in the center of his office. “Come here,” he demanded.
Ruby had never taken orders from anyone, not even him. His management style was in the form of polite requests that, nevertheless, didn’t take no for an answer. For the most part, his subordinates followed those requests. The few times someone hadn’t—suffice it to say, there was only one chance per customer. The next time he made a request, they jumped. Ruby had never been a problem, but his requests had never been out of line.
Tonight, however, they were going way over the line. And he wasn’t allowing her to say no.
Ruby knew it, too. She stood in front of him, a foot and a half between them. He could smell her perfume, something light and a little sweet, definitely exotic. And he could scent her. Musky, warm, all woman.
“You will do everything I say without question.”
Ruby blinked, and her lips parted.
He sensed an argument and ruthlessly shut it down. “There will be severe consequences for every infraction.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to fire me?”
“I will never fire you. There are other things worse than that. Undo your jacket.”
A pulse beat at her throat, but her bravado hadn’t completely deserted her. “I don’t have anything on under it except my bra.”
He gave her a steady look. “I know. I’ve always known exactly what you have under there.” He let that sink in.
Her eyes flitted across his face, assessing, analyzing, wondering. Then she slowly raised her fingers to the buttons of her jacket. It was short-waisted, cream-colored, fitted, and hugged her large breasts. Her fingertips were the same ruby red as her lipstick. There was nothing like red nails wrapped around a man’s flesh.
She did what he’d ordered and no more. The lapels hung open slightly, giving him only a glimpse of the lavender lingerie beneath.
“Take it off,” he said, recognizing the huskiness in his own voice. It was his turn to swallow, his throat suddenly dry with anticipation.
Ruby slid her nails up the jacket’s lapels, then slipped under, pushing it off her shoulders and shrugging it down her arms until it fell to the carpet. Her nipples were tight beads beneath the lavender lace. Underwire plumped her breasts, held them high, a hint of dusky aureole peaking above the cup.
His mouth watered.
It wasn’t polite to entertain serious sexual fantasies about your friend’s lover. Unless you were invited. Clay had never invited him, and Holt was a stickler for propriety.
But Ruby had cheated, and Clay had left her. They’d been together for three years, and though their relationship had ended, Holt still didn’t poach on another man’s territory. So he’d briefly outlined his plans and requested Clay’s permission to carry out Ruby’s punishment. That was all they’d talked about, no gory or explicit details, very little explanation, and no rehashing of the relationship.
Permission granted. Ruby was now his.
Bra and skirt, he wondered. Or bra and panties? “Take off your skirt, but leave the heels.”
Ruby didn’t protest this time, reaching behind, unzipping. The skirt dropped to the carpet, pooling around her shoes. She stepped out of it.
And stole his breath.
Minuscule thong panties cut high on the hip, a barely there thatch of trimmed hair showing through the lavender lace, which matched her bra. Her stomach was flat, her hips rounded, her thighs beckoning a man to slip between them.
He reached out, tracing a finger along her collarbone until the tip touched the strap of her brassiere. He slid it off her shoulder. She looked elegantly debauched.
“Perfect,” he murmured. Though he was supposed to be the one in charge, he found himself mesmerized. Ruby was extraordinary. He almost lost focus.
He brought his gaze back to hers and met the knowing look in her eyes. Ruby knew her own power. She needed to learn that his was greater.
He stepped aside, pointed. “Bend over, elbows on my desk,” he instructed.
Her brows knit with a question, but she was smarter than to ask it.
“Now,” he emphasized.
She stepped forward, leaned over, and assumed the position, ass in the air.
Jesus. Ruby’s ass in her short skirts was delectable, but framed by the thong, the creamy globes were mouthwatering.
Moving in on her, Holt cupped his hand and slapped her sweet tush hard, fingers in a downward slant that connected with the warmth of her pussy.