The Suit and His Switch Claim Their Sub

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2013
Jenika
Snow

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-541-9

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Karyn
White

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I want to thank
Evernight
Publishing for being with me every step of the way through the writing process.
I want to give a big thank you to the readers who take a chance on my books
each and every time. It means the world to me. I'd like to say thank you to my
husband and children for being patient with me as I create these stories. I may
not always have a lot of free time, but your support, understanding, and love
gives me the inspiration and strength to do it.

THE SUIT AND HIS SWITCH

CLAIM THEIR SUB

The Suits, 1

Jenika
Snow

Copyright ©
2013

Chapter
One

“On your knees, boy.”
Dietrich
gripped his riding crop tightly in his fist as Stellan sank to his knees. His
sub had shed his clothes as soon as he ordered it, and the light and shadows
mixed well with the contracting of his muscles. “Who owns you, boy?” He ran the
crop up the hard ridges of Stellan’s abdomen and felt his dick twitch when
Stellan’s muscles clenched, showcasing a prominent six-pack.

“You
do, Master.”

Dietrich
lifted the boy’s head with the tip of his crop under his chin. His
submissive’s
light blue eyes locked with his, and his dick
hardened further. A glance down showed Stellan’s cock was at full attention.

“Are
you hungry for me, boy?”

His
reply was instant. “Yes, Master.”

Dietrich
grinned and said, “Then take out my shaft and suck
the cum
from me like a good sub.” Stellan undid the laces of Dietrich’s leathers and
pulled out his erection. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to take the
head of his cock into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Dietrich let himself
get lost in the feel of his sub’s tongue lapping at his
slit,
drawing his seed from him with so much expertise it rivaled an artist fine-tuning
his instrument. “Take it deep, boy. Swallow me whole.”

Like
an obedient sub, Stellan did as he was told. Dietrich ran the crop along his
shoulder, down his side, and over the hard, muscular curve of Stellan’s ass.
With a flick of his wrist he brought the crop down upon the tanned flesh. He
loved how his sub tensed then groaned in his own pleasure. With pain brought
pleasure, and Dietrich would bring forth an ocean of both this evening.

****

Blythe
Winters adjusted her skirt as the elevator ascended to the twenty-fifth floor
of the Cosmopolitan Building. The doors in front of her were a brushed copper
color, and her reflection was fairly clear. She had twisted her dark blonde
hair in a stylish, yet simple chignon. Taking a step closer to the mirrored
panel she ran her finger under her eye to make sure she didn’t have any
residual mascara. Blythe hardly wore make-up, and when she did it was only for
special occasions. Today was definitely a special occasion. Her light green
eyes seemed brighter today, but it was probably from the lack of sleep she had
gotten the past week. The rain had caused the air to become damp, which in turn
caused her two year old ankle injury to ache something fierce. She bent and
absently rubbed it, willing her anger and despair over everything she had lost
to become buried deep inside of her. Now was not the time to reflect on what
she lost, not when she was about to meet one of the wealthiest men in America.

Smoothing
a hand down her outfit only caused her to feel the bumps and dips of her
oversized body. Maybe a size sixteen wasn’t all that bad, but after her
accident she had ballooned out. Her once size two
frame
now seemed like a distant memory. Food had become her friend, her calorie-filling,
weight-gaining friend. She couldn’t even stand to look at herself in the
mirror, let alone get together with anyone she used to know before the
accident.

Being
a temp had its ups and down, this particular job being one of the ups. When she
got the call last night about a position that needed to be filled immediately,
she had jumped on it. Not only was she going to be working for Dietrich “The
Bear” Moore, CEO of Moore Industries, she was also going to spend one month in
Europe with him as his PA. The downside to it all was she was working as “The
Bear’s” personal assistant. It was no secret that Mr. Moore was a real hard-ass
and control freak, but Blythe could overlook all of that because despite this
being only a temporary position, it would pay her bills and she’d get a trip
out of it.

The
elevator dinged when it reached its destination, and she took a deep breath.
She was usually nervous on her first day on the job, as was normal, but today
brought on a whole set of new hesitation. The doors opened, and she stepped
into the lobby. A sophisticatedly decorated lounge stood in front of her. Dark
leather furniture and masculine décor was no doubt professionally placed. A
glass and chrome reception desk sat directly in front of the elevator, and
Blythe moved toward it. The young man behind the desk spoke rapidly on the
phone. He held up one perfectly manicured finger as he finished his
conversation. After the phone was set back in the cradle he looked at her expectantly.

“May
I help you?”

“I’m
Blythe Winters.” At his blank look she continued. “I’m Mr. Moore’s temporary
personal assistant.”

“Oh,
yes.” He grabbed a manila envelope and stood. “This file contains Mr. Moore’s
personal and business schedule. You’ll need to have it down pat.” He walked
around the desk and handed her the folder. “Laura had a family emergency, so
she won’t be here to get you up to date on Mr. Moore’s schedule, so it’s of the
utmost importance that you know this file from front to back.” He made his way
down a long hallway, and Blythe had no other option but to follow. She was
struck by the blatant sway of his hips, the tightness of his black slacks, and the
flailing of his arms as he rattled off the different departments within Moore
Industries.

Several
doors lined either side of her, and Blythe snuck a peek inside the ones that
were open. A copy room, lounge, and conference room were just few she had been
able to make out as the flamboyant receptionist took her farther down the long,
never-ending hallway.

“Mr.
Moore is in a meeting right now but will be finished shortly. He’s instructed
me to have you wait in his office.” He pushed open the double doors that were
located at the end of the hall.

“Okay,
thank you. I didn’t catch your name.” Blythe turned around, but the
receptionist was shutting the door.
Alrighty
then.
The office was massive,
probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that
gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers could be seen from as far as
the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the
glass. The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as the rest
of the place, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the
office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite
describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet
in length. She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white
abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and
painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood
being sprayed. She brought her cardigan more tightly around her chest. The
rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were enough to give any one nightmares,
and now she had agreed to work directly for him.

Blythe
went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across
from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of
taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment.
Shifting on the leather she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three she
shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to
meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk. The
standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of
files, and a phone. It was bare for all intents and purposes, given the fact
this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.

 
A Newton’s Cradle caught her eyes, and she
stood. When she was in front of his desk she reached forward and grabbed the
small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and
when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls
swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped into her
back, and the sense of being no longer alone invaded her. Blythe spun around
and came face-to-face with a very wide suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge
of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of
pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him
did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room.
He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle
yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was
inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing
moan. The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark
blue eyes regarded her silently. In person he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair
cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching
to brush the strands away.