Training Tess (6 page)

Dennison was one of Marla’s newest advertisers.

Crap.

She glanced at Marla’s door, praying Jared would finish up quickly and come to her. This man made her uncomfortable. He brought to the light of day all the trepidation and all the arousal of the night before.

The arousal had been for Jared. The trepidation was all Dennison’s.

He sauntered toward her desk and stepped next to her, crowding her. She wanted to move away but knew he’d only follow.

“I had no idea you belonged to Marla,” he murmured, picking up her paperweight and stroking it—as Jared had. The effect on her was noticeably different. Dennison’s fingers drifting over the globe made her nauseated. She pushed back her chair as an urge to escape ravaged her.

He noticed. His nostrils flared. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have been so gentle.”

To her horror, he grasped a nipple, gave it a tug. Tess tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let go. And it hurt.

She smacked at his hand. “Stop that.”

He tut-tutted her impotent resistance. “Looks like your training wasn’t very effective.” Tess yanked herself free, stood and glared down at him. In the heels Jared had given her, she towered over him. He didn’t seem to mind. “But then I rather like a fighter in my bed.”

“I’m not in your bed. I’m never gonna be in your bed.”

“Oh, you will be.” A predatory smile stretched across his face. “Jared always tires of his playthings. And then he passes them along.”

Before she could stop him, Dennison reached between the slit of her skirt and skated his hand up her thigh. When she tried to wrench away, he held her fast, pressing her against the desk. For a small man, he was strong. He chuckled at Tess’ resistance. Then he found what he was searching for and stilled.

“Oh, my dear.” He thrust his fingers between the lips of her pussy. “You are bare. And wet.”

“Let go of me!”

He tried to wedge his fingers deeper, tried to enter her, but Tess closed her legs and twisted away and fought him. He laughed.

And then a feral bellow shook the room, drowned out all sound.

Something plucked Dennison from her side. He flew through the air and slammed against the wall. The room shook again. Jared—a Jared unlike any Jared she’d ever seen—charged him. Face etched with rage, he snarled, lifted Dennison up against the wall and punched him in the belly and punched him in the face and punched him again and again wherever he could reach until Dennison became a deadweight. Only then did Jared let him slide down the wall into a moaning pile on the carpet.

He rushed to Tess’ side, his face pale, his hair askew. “Are you all right?” He yanked her into his arms and then held her out so he could look her over and then yanked her into his arms again, murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Jared. I’m fine.” Tess pulled back and adjusted her blouse, smoothed her skirt, patted her hair. Fear and adrenaline pounded through her veins but there was a lick of something else. A thread of raw arousal at the sight of her man coming to her defense.

Okay. Maybe more than a thread. It threatened to swamp her so she plopped into her seat. And winced.

Jared didn’t give her time to register her discomfort. He came down on his knees at her side, cradling her cheeks in his palms. “Are you sure? If he hurt you, I’ll kill him. I swear.”

“I’m fine.” She put her hands over his and gazed into his eyes. She was fine. Finer than she’d ever been.

“Oh, please.” Marla’s acerbic tone wafted across the room. They turned in tandem to stare at her. She stood by her office door with her arms crossed over her chest, her toe tapping on the carpet. “Is this how you plan to keep your relationship from affecting my business?”

Jared stood. He glanced at Dennison and swallowed. He paled around the mouth. Reaction setting in, no doubt. He’d just beaten the crap out of one of Marla’s biggest clients.

Tess stood beside him and took his hand in hers, a sign of solidarity. He gave her a little squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Marla. But he was manhandling Tess. I lost my head.”

Marla flicked a look at Dennison, who was struggling to sit up. With a garbled moan, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to stanch some of the bleeding.

She waved her fingers dismissively. “Like I care about that. I’m talking about you. On your knees. Mooning over her. Come on, man. She has
work
to do.” Marla glared at Tess but Tess saw the light of humor lurking in those ice-blue chips. “Well? Get to it,” she snapped. “We have a business to run.”

Jared cupped Tess’ cheek and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Dennison and I are going to have a chat. I’ll see you later. Have a nice day, honey.”

So domesticated. So normal.

He held her gaze as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket. And Tess flinched as the slender vibrator nested in her ass kicked into gear.

Epilogue

Well, crap. Marla downed her champagne and signaled for another. What a miserable day. She glared at the happy couple twirling on the dance floor. Jared looked amazing in his black tailcoat and Tess was ethereal in a frothy white wedding gown. She gazed up at her new husband with dewy, doe-like eyes.

She worshipped him. And he worshipped her. It was obvious in their every glance, every touch.

Revolting.

Marla knocked back another glass. She had to stay for at least another hour, pretending to be delirious with joy.

But she wasn’t delirious. Truth be known, she was jealous. Jealous as hell.

She wished she could be the kind of woman who was happy wallowing in domestic bliss, but she just wasn’t. Her disastrous marriage was proof of that, and every disastrous relationship before that. She wasn’t sure if the problem was seated deep inside her soul—an irresistible desire to fuck up everything she touched—or if it was the men she picked.

Probably a bit of both.

“They look fantastic.”

Marla started as a deep voice rumbled around her. She ignored the ping those familiar tones set off in her clit. Setting an annoyed expression on her face—because frankly her brother’s best friend annoyed the crap out of her—she turned to him. “Cord.”

“Marla.” Why was he looking at her like that? As if he was…hungry? “Would you like to dance?”

She curled her lip. “Don’t you have a kitten to play with?” Like, tied up somewhere. Panting for him.

Aggravation slashed through her. Oh, she knew what he was into. Cord’s predilections were hardly a secret. That annoyed her too. Along with the fact he went through women like toilet paper. In a nunnery.

“No kitten. Not seeing anyone right now.” He took a sip of his drink. She fixated on the undulations of his throat. “Sorry to hear about Derek, by the way.”

She stiffened. Looked away. “Ancient history.”

They were silent for a moment or two, both watching the couples on the dance floor. “So.” He blew out a breath. “I can’t remember a time when we’ve both been…unencumbered.”

She froze, horrified by the way his words, his tone, sizzled along her nerves. Her cunt squeezed around a phantom length. Marla tossed back another drink and glared at the bartender. He hurriedly poured her another.

“I don’t think you should drink that.”

“I beg your pardon?” Marla gifted Cord with the stoniest stare she could manage. And she excelled at stony stares.

He was utterly unaffected. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

She knew her jaw was agape but she couldn’t seem to close it. He did it for her with a gentle finger. Just barely, she suppressed the urge to bite it off. The fucker. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

He grinned. “The guy you’re going home with tonight.” He set his drink on the bar and took her hand, circling her wrist in a gentle cuff. “And I want you to be stone-cold sober when you give yourself to me.”

All she could manage was an insensate sputter.

He ignored it.

He ignored it and tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

His mouth was soft, warm and insistent. Shivers skated up and down her spine and then settled in her womb. His tongue nudged past her lips, easing into her mouth in a lazy fucking motion and her knees nearly buckled. When he scraped a nipple, they did. But he caught her, held her close. His cock throbbed against her belly.

“Oh God, Marla. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” His lips traveled across her cheek and nuzzled her earlobe. He whispered, “I want to see you naked. In my bed.” He made eye contact and added, “Pleading.”

Panic lashed her. She knew what he was talking about. She wasn’t an idiot. She pulled back. “I don’t like that kind of stuff.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m a businesswoman, for Christ’s sake. I crush men’s balls for breakfast.”

He chuckled. “I know what you are, Marla. I see all of it, there in your eyes. Yes, you’re a powerful woman in the boardroom. But in the bedroom, you ache to be dominated. Isn’t that what you think about when you play with your pussy in your cold, lonely bed?”

She flinched. She couldn’t admit that to him. She could barely admit it to herself. If she was going to survive, she had to be a hardass. The world ate weak women alive. What she craved, what she secretly needed, could not factor in to the picture. She had to be strong. “No.”

“Liar.”

A hot flush crawled up her neck. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared out at the dance floor but she saw nothing.

“Tell you what. Go home tonight and stroke yourself. If you dare, think of me while you’re toying with your clit. Think about kneeling before me naked, trembling, waiting for my crop. How exquisite it would be to have a ruthless hand forcing pleasure upon you while you writhe, helpless to resist. How freeing it would be to submit everything to your Master. Be honest, for once.”

He tipped up her chin again, forced her eyes to meet his. “And if you come while you’re tangled in that fantasy, if it makes your pussy weep and your body yearn for more—call me. I will satisfy you.”

He held her gaze for far too long, as though he was attempting to infuse her mind with visions of just that—her on her knees, bound, aching, submissive. Powerless and yet so powerful at the same time.

Everything within her clenched. Raw hunger raged.

But she didn’t move. Not a muscle.

After several long minutes of waiting for a response that would never come, he nodded, but not to her, to himself. Regret limned his expression. He picked up his drink and turned away.

But then he stilled and looked at her over his shoulder. “Call me, Marla. I
will
satisfy you.”

And then he disappeared into the crowd.

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, writes naked erotic fiction for fans who like it hot, hard and balls-to-the-wall, and erotic romance and fantasy for readers who prefer a slow burn to passion. An award-winning author in multiple genres, Sabrina loves writing hot, humorous stories in all kinds of settings.

Sabrina York welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
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