His Indecent Proposition

(Volume 1 of ‘Bound
and Shackled
to the
Billionaire’)

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Aphrodite Hunt

Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt

Published by Aphrodite Hunt at Smashwords

EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

The ‘Bound
and Shackled
to
the Billionaire’ series

His Indecent Proposition

The ‘Initiation’ series

Open Your Legs for Me

Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

Thighs Wide Apart

Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

The Final Initiation

The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

The ‘Initiation 2’ series

Open Your Legs for my Family

Bend Over for my Family

Publicly Display Yourself for Me

Sex Slave at Sea

Paraded before the Billionaires

Sex Slave at the Auction

‘
The Royal Captive’ series

Prince Miro’s Capture

Prince Miro’s Submission

Prince Miro’s Enslavement

Prince Miro’s Punishment

Prince Miro’s Escape

Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3

The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6

The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL

The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series

Her First Clit Ring

Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage

The ‘Undercover’ series

Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor

Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO

The ‘Alien’ series

Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2

Hot, Wet and Steamy
(individual
stories)

When He’s Inside You

My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter
(Erotic Suspense)

WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT

EROTIC ROMANCES

The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha
Male’ series

A Virgin Enslaved

The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’
series

Mysterious Desire

Forbidden Desire

Dear reader, as this list is not always
comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this
point in publishing, please visit
http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/
and
http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/
for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic
romances and Aphrodite Hunt for erotica and erotica with a
smattering of romance. So please be aware of what you’re getting
into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so
much for your support.

1

Susan Chalmers looks at herself in the
bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath.

“OK, don’t panic. You can do it. He’s not as
scary as everyone makes him to be,” she mutters to herself.

Then she freezes. She turns around to check
if anyone is in the stalls of the fourteenth floor ladies’
restroom. Wouldn’t do to have any spies in the vicinity. None of
the stall doors are closed, but you never know. So she does a
cursory examination, her high heels going clack-clack-clack on the
black and white tiles.

I’m getting paranoid,
she scolds
herself. It’s this intense competition that is getting to her, not
to mention that slimy bastard, Leonard Drake. Leonard is aiming to
be the youngest VP in the company, and yes, she has to admit she is
older by a full year than that sneaky twenty-eight-year old who is
always telling everyone he graduated from Stanford at age nineteen
because he is some sort of accelerated home-schooled genius.

(Well, she’s older by exactly nine months,
if you want to be picky about it.)

But VP!

Ohhh
.

She can almost see her name in gold
lettering on her door. SUSAN CHALMERS, VICE-PRESIDENT. She has
earned her way to that promotion and she fully deserves the post.
She has brought in the Stoughton contract, worth three hundred
million dollars. OK, so Leonard is neck-to-neck with her with the
Habber contract to the tune of three hundred and fifty million
dollars, but what is a mere fifty million, right?

Her heart sinks.

Actually, if they wanted to be picky about
it, that fifty million can mean the whole world between a promotion
and another few more years of waiting in the wings. It just so
happened that Dan Barry, the previous VP, dropped dead of a heart
attack. Susan was genuinely sorry about it, even though Dan was a
lecher who liked to grope all the women and cheat on his wife.

She looks at herself in the mirror again.
She’s attractive enough with her coppery curls and wide brown eyes,
but she has always wished she could be prettier and taller. But
being pretty is not going to cut it with Mr. Channing Crawford, the
CEO of Crawford, Peterson and Fulham Inc. As far as she knows, Mr.
Crawford hasn’t even
looked
at any woman in the company.
Rumors might have abounded that he was gay had it not been for his
extreme alpha male masculinity and the way he seems to suck all the
air out of a room.

Nope. This is all going to be based on
merit. Maybe she needs the extra fifty million dollars after
all.

You can do it, girl
.

She plucks her purse off the sink and makes
herself walk out of the restroom. Her legs are slightly wobbly as
she strides to the elevators. The CEO’s office is on the top floor.
Even after five years in the company, her encounters with Channing
Crawford have been thankfully brief and limited to boardrooms and
town hall meetings.

She doesn’t wish for broader contact. The
man is frankly intimidating.

The light on top of one of the elevators
comes on, and the doors slide open. Susan makes to step in, and
freezes when she sees Leonard Drake inside.

Leonard smiles craftily. He is a tall black
man with a full head of straight black hair. He is always
impeccably dressed and he doesn’t walk – he
glides
like a
shark.

“Going up?” he says.

She wonders if it’s a metaphor. She debates
whether or not to postpone this appointment with Channing Crawford
to another time. But you don’t postpone appointments with Channing
Crawford. You don’t get a second chance.

She steels herself and lifts her chin
up.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she says.

She walks into the elevator with an air of
confidence that she does not feel.
Gotta keep those hands from
trembling
. She presses the button to the top floor, aware that
Leonard is sizing her every move.

“Oh,” he says in a silky voice, “going to
the CEO’s office?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’ve just been there.”

Oh? Susan pricks up her ears. She will not
give Leonard the satisfaction of turning her head to address him,
however.

Leonard goes on, “Let’s just say the VP job
is pretty much wrapped up.”

“Nothing is ever wrapped up until it’s
over,” she says acidly.

Internally, she’s going
damn damn
damn
in dismay. What uproariously stellar interview did Leonard
give Channing Crawford? What new projects did he promise to deliver
if he were to get that VP post? Leonard is an upstanding member of
his church community, and he has a lot of contacts channeling in
from that way.

As for her, she hasn’t gone to church since
grade school.

Damn
.

She wonders if it’s too late to court a
parish.

The elevator reaches the twentieth floor and
Leonard gets off.

“Good luck,” he says, grinning. “You’re
gonna need it. Lots of it.”

She glares balefully at him as he turns tail
and walks off. The elevator doors hiss shut again, and it’s up, up,
up to top.

If only.

Her nerves are jangling when the doors slide
open to reveal a wide passageway. At the end of it is the CEO’s
office. It takes up almost the entire floor.

Susan steps out. She is wearing red heels,
and they sink into the blue and cream carpet. Her blouse is red
silk and her skirt is a pencil-silhouetted tartan. She looks every
inch the powerhouse professional, or so she hopes.

Her steps are strident until she gets closer
and closer to the office, and then she falters.

Why oh why am I so nervous?

Relax, you’ve got the goods. So what if
Leonard gets the job? At least you’ve given it your best shot.

But I don’t want him to get the job! He’s
never going to let me live it down!

Straightening her back with new resolve, she
resumes her gait to the CEO’s office.

Ms. Radcliffe, the forty-something year old
Executive Assistant who has been with the company since its
inception, looks up.

“Right on time, Ms. Chalmers.” She
smiles.

“Please call me Susan.” Never hurts to get
on the Executive Assistant’s side.

“Go right in. He’s waiting for you.” Ms.
Radcliffe jerks her head. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

Her nerve bundles are starting to fire up
again. Susan swallows, grips both her fists, composes herself and
heads in.

And almost stumbles.

The man sitting behind the large mahogany
desk has always unsettled her, and even more so now. Channing
Crawford is in his late thirties and he radiates a magnetic aura of
great power. He doesn’t look his age though. He looks younger,
possibly because he is so fit.

He is handsome – almost unspeakably so. His
blue eyes are sparkling and vivid in a well-chiseled face. He has
marvelous bone structure – a structure she can well imagine on
ancient Greek kings and war frescoes. His dark hair is razor shorn
into a buzz cut, and his body is bulked up and magnificent under
his dark suit. His lips have a determined and ruthless streak to
them.

She can’t look away from his eyes. Her knees
begin to wobble again.

Damn. Now you remember why you take great
pains to avoid meeting this man.

Not helping are the rumors of how he found
his fortune. It isn’t a matter of luck or investment, though those
came much later. Channing Crawford, William Peterson and Derek
Fulham were Iraqi war veterans – battle-scarred and hardened army
officers who had been decorated for many acts of valor. In Iraq,
they had found hoarded gold bullion and claimed their share of the
spoils.

The rumors speculated that the way they
found the gold was not without bloodshed. Iraqi warlords were
involved, even organized crime. There were whispers of a bloody
raid, the detonation of an entire citadel and a chase across the
desert.

Of course, no one could ever confirm what
happened. Only Channing Crawford, William Peterson and Derek Fulham
knew exactly what went down, and they weren’t telling.

With this gold, they came back to America
and founded the company. William Peterson was killed in a
surfboarding accident (also raising suspicions) and Derek Fulham
sold his shares to Channing two years later. Now Channing Crawford
holds the share majority in a company that has capital investments
as far as China, Bolivia and the Middle East.

Susan can now feel the weight of speculative
history emanating from this magnificent specimen of a man – mixed
with a thrilling splash of mystery and danger. It’s as if she’s
face to face with a drug lord, not a CEO of a much-admired
company.

This is a mistake. She shouldn’t have come
here.

Then she thinks of Leonard Drake in this
very room, facing Channing Crawford down. Her mouth sets into a
determined line.
If you can’t bear to be in the same room as
Channing Crawford, then you have no business being a VP of this
company.

Channing says, “Yes? Susan Chalmers, isn’t
it? You wanted to see me?”

Direct and right to the point. No
pleasantries required.

Susan swallows.

“Yes, Mr. Crawford. I came to see you about
the Vice-President’s job. I’m going to tell you why I think I
deserve it.”

Before she can lose her nerve, she rushes
into her well-rehearsed spiel about her list of accomplishments
within the company. And yes, it’s a long list. As she states each
achievement and contract she has brought in by rote – without once
referring to any piece of paper – her voice grows steadier and her
back becomes straighter.