Authors: Piper Trace
Come When Called
Copyright © 2015 Piper Trace
Cover design by Mark Henry
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
EVIE SMOOTHED ON sun block before she reclined on one of the cushy chaise lounge chairs by Ford’s Mediterranean-style pool. She quickly fell asleep, eventually waking up blinking into the sun. Stretching her body languidly, she felt the heat seep into her to the bone.
She was more relaxed than she’d been in months. The spanking session Ford had subjected her to earlier had been as stress relieving as a full body massage. Who knew? She thought about the potential spa treatment possibilities and laughed out loud.
“Evie’s Spanking Spa”, let us paddle your worries away, you bad boys and girls!
She sighed and kept giggling to herself sporadically, thinking of her spanking spa. She imagined pitching the business plan to a man in a suit down at the bank in an attempt to get a loan, and dissolved into laughter again. He’d probably want a free spanking before he loaned her the money. The giggles eventually faded and she just lay there, feeling good, feeling the sun beat against her eyelids. Her contentment bloomed, and it dawned on her that she was happy.
It struck her as odd that she would feel so genuinely happy, and yet there it was. She had a bizarre job with an eccentric boss; she was in a pseudo-relationship with that boss and his best friend, where apparently it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility to get tied up and spanked if she didn’t perform well. Her job was fifty percent executive assistant and fifty percent sex toy—well, maybe more like twenty-eighty—and she got paid obscenely for it. And somehow all of that madness solved the scariest problem she’d ever had…John and the money she owed him. Life worked in mysterious and sexy ways, sometimes.
Evie was living life outrageously, deliciously, rolling life around in her mouth and savoring it, devouring new sexual experiences until she felt full to bursting with ecstasy. Lust and orgasms were fun, but lust and orgasms in an opulent setting with two incredibly hot and interesting men? Fun wasn’t close to a good enough word.
Her belly grumbled and she remembered she hadn’t had breakfast, not even the coffee her body normally required. She was surprised she didn’t have a headache from the lack of caffeine. Maybe spanking cured addictions too? It was a panacea! She giggled at the thought and gathered her stuff to go find something to eat. Maybe Charley would be around to have lunch with her.
As she neared the garage on her way back into the house, she heard the whine of Ford’s Aston Martin coming up the driveway. A smile spread across her sun-kissed face. If she could get where he could see her, she’d be able to greet him in her tiny bikini as he returned home. Surely he’d be pleased with that. He might even screw her right there in the grass.
Geez, she was turning into a damned harlot.
Ford was maneuvering into the garage just as Evie came around the side, and she could tell from his face that he hadn’t seen her. Her smile fell like a brick when she saw the back window of Ford’s sleek car. The window was shattered. A chaotic spider web of broken glass emanated from one point…a hole in his window the size of a walnut. She was no expert, but that looked like a bullet-hole.
What the hell?
Her stomach seized, her earlier relaxation and carefree mood replaced by a cold dread. The dread was a familiar feeling she’d been living with ever since John had threatened her in his office months ago.
Had John tried to hurt Ford? She heard the car door slam and then Ford’s voice. He was angry—yelling into his phone. She instinctively did not want him to know she was witnessing this, so she ducked back around the corner of the garage and listened. Her chest tightened above the knot in her stomach as she thought about Ford being in danger. She couldn’t live with herself if Ford was dragged into her mess with her psychotic ex.
“I want it stopped NOW!” Ford yelled into the phone, his voice so angry she flinched. Her heart pounded as she yanked off her hat so she could flatten against the outside garage wall.
“You have what you want.” Then there was a pause. “Well you can’t have that! You listen to me…you better never fucking come near—hello? Hello? Fuck!” Ford slammed the phone to the driveway with such force that it shattered, and he kicked at the pieces as if he were angry the phone had the nerve to break.
Ford stood still for a moment gazing in the direction of his gate. He put both hands up to the sides of his head, his fingers laced in his hair in a gesture of despondency. Evie could only see him from behind, so she didn’t know what his face looked like, but his posture was all tension. The bad feeling in her gut intensified.
He stalked to the side entrance of the mansion, slamming the door so hard the window rattled. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and realized she was trembling. Easing slowly off the wall, not taking her eyes from the side door to the house in case Ford decided to make a reappearance, Evie slipped into the garage.
She didn’t want Ford to catch her snooping around if there really was a bullet-hole in his car. She went to his beloved Aston Martin, the first car in a row of eight cars, one motorcycle and a boat, and opened the door on the driver’s side to look at the rear window. Sure looked like a bullet-hole to her. She turned her head slowly to the front, visualizing the path the bullet would have taken through the car, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.
And there it was.
Vertigo slammed into her as the world tilted. She grabbed for the door frame to steady herself until the lightheadedness passed. Then her eyes focused on it again—confirmation. There was a hole shattered into the dashboard of the car. A plate that used to house knobs for climate control now hung off the dashboard in pieces, one of the knobs shattered, leaving only a metal stick protruding from the ruined faceplate. Broken plastic lay scattered across the car’s console.
She looked down at the driver’s seat and did the mental calculation. Ford had come within five inches of that hole being in his neck instead of the dashboard. When he’d left the house that morning, he almost hadn’t returned. Instead of black plastic spread throughout the front seat, it would have been blood. Ford’s blood.
Ford was a force of nature. She couldn’t imagine such a strong life-force being snuffed out. Shaking, she backed away from the shattered interior of the car.
John had done this.
Could he be so disturbed that he’d try to hurt Ford because he took her in? She was sure she knew the answer to that question. Her gut clenched again. This was her fault. She’d brought this to Ford’s house.
Dejected, Evie trudged from the garage. Maybe Ford would tell her what happened.
Evie went into the same side door Ford had gone through and checked the library for him. He was there, leaning back in his desk chair, looking out the window with his hands tented in front of his mouth. When she peeked her head in, he smiled, tight-lipped. Almost as if he couldn’t help it—as if his mouth didn’t want to make the gesture, but it broke through anyway.
“Evie.” His voice held a hint of what sounded like trepidation. “You’ve been to the pool. Let me look at you.” He gestured for her to come into his office. She entered cautiously, afraid of what Ford would tell her. She searched his face for some hint of what happened to him and his car, but she saw nothing more than his body tension, a sign that he was feeling troubled under the surface.
He was hiding his unease, so she knew not to bring up what she’d seen. She stood in front of his desk and he twirled his finger to indicate she was to turn around. She rotated and looked back over her shoulder to watch his face. He whistled low and long, his eyes twinkling.
“That bikini bottom looks so good on your ass. It’s just small enough to show your gorgeous curves. Come here.”
She went around his desk to stand directly in front of his chair. His put his large hands on her hips and turned her around again. Dipping his fingers under the edges of her suit, he slid the sides of her bikini bottom into the crease between her butt cheeks, exposing her skin with his improvised thong.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “I can still see the marks on your skin from your spanking. This pretty suit doesn’t quite cover them.” He caressed her still-pink skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” she answered, though really, it was fine. He smoothed the fabric back into place and turned her around again to pick her up, as if she weighed nothing, and set her on his desk, facing him in his chair.
“Did you go swimming?” He spread her legs and pulled his chair up between them.
“No, I just relaxed in the sun. Maybe next time we can go swimming together?”
“No.” The word came out as a chuckle. “I don’t use the pool.”
“No, never.” He ran his hands up and down her smooth, tanned legs.
“I’m scared of the water.” He gave her a crooked smile, looking up at her sheepishly through his eyelashes.
“But you have a pool. And a boat!” she said, incredulous.
“I have those because they are things rich people have.” He grinned at her. “Actually, I do like to sail, but I always have a life-jacket close at hand.”
“I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”
He glanced up at her again, and it was a moment before he answered, his searching gaze seeming to delve into the depths her blue eyes. “Some things, Evie. I’ve discovered there are some things I’m very afraid of.”
She frowned. His cryptic answer further dragged down her already-troubled mood. She was sure he was referring to her and Charley somehow, not John.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he buried his nose between her breasts and inhaled deeply. “You smell like sunshine and coconuts,” he mumbled into her cleavage, smelling her suntan lotion. Her nipples peaked at the close proximity of his mouth. He must have noticed her reaction because he closed his lips on one of her hard nipples, over the bathing suit material, and sucked. She felt the pull on her skin and the friction of the material, and her breath hitched.
He stood suddenly, and took her face in his hands, kissing her urgently. The kiss went on, long and hard, as if Ford was kissing her out of need and not simply desire. He broke away finally and they were both gasping. He yanked her bikini top up and her breasts popped out from under the fabric, nipples hard and yearning to be sucked. He moved to kiss her neck and worked both of her breasts with his hands, caressing and squeezing them.
“Oh Ford,” she cried without meaning to—he was acting with an uncontrolled ardor she normally didn’t see. Noises were coming out of her mouth without thought, as Ford laid her back across his desk for the second time that day. He leaned over her, pressing his crotch to hers, grinding against her with their clothes still on, and lapping at her nipples.
“Evie, god, Evie, you were so good to me today. You feel so right.” He spoke passionately in between kisses to her nipples, like it was important that she understood his words.
She was glad he was pleased with her. He reached a hand down between them and pushed the fabric between her legs aside, finding the wetness there and delving into it, making her squirm.
Moving back up, he kissed her mouth again, and she welcomed his strong, hot tongue, relishing the intimacy of it. Ford rarely treated her to this many real kisses.
Without breaking the kiss, he deftly untied the side strings on her bikini bottom and she lifted her hips so he could pull it off her. She heard the metallic sounds of his belt buckle being unclasped, then his zipper being pulled down. He braced himself over her with one hand and she felt him use the other to guide himself to her wet entrance.
He shoved his cock into her, and she groaned, arching her neck, lifting her shoulder blades off the desk at the feeling of pure pleasure she felt from Ford inside her. Scooping his hands around her ass to pull her towards him, he used the counterforce to bury himself in her. She gasped, grabbing at his hips, lifting her heels into the air, trying to pull him deeper, though it was impossible. She just couldn’t seem to get close enough to him.
“Wait.” His voice was husky with excitement, and he pulled out of her. “Turn over. I want to look at your spanked ass while I fuck you.” She levered herself to her feet and turned around, bending over his desk as she’d been positioned that morning.