PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Bear Naked Satisfaction (Fantasy Shapeshifter Alpha Male Romance Book 3) (Contemporary New Adult Billionaire Steamy Romance Short Stories) (34 page)

Chapter 9

              I check my Facebook while he closes out the night. Lindsay, his volunteer coordinator, calls to let him know their tally of all the phone bank calls, how many volunteers showed up, and how many calls they got through. He paces the room on his iPhone, doesn’t even sit at his desk. It feels cool to see how he conducts himself in his office. How he paces back and forth along the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows during his calls, stops directly in the center with his feet apart, left arm crossed under the other when he’s listening intently. I’m usually on the other side of the wall refilling my coffee, staring at my computer screen, answering phone calls and conferencing him in. Observing him in his element right now is a bit of a treat. I’m most impressed with just how much he’s staying on top of. From my end, it’s easy to believe that all of his staff do the thinking. But for the short time I’ve been sitting here, he’s negotiated and finalized a revised contract for a last-minute city project, recalled win numbers and percentages from previous years for Bryn to help her narrow down a target area for canvassing tomorrow, reminded his attorney to take a second look at a certain clause or statute that may affect a hotel project he’s thinking about launching in Dubai, and called his driver to remind him to pick up his dry cleaning. I mean, I’m exhausted just watching him keep up with all of this.

              This dude is
busy.
How on Earth does he survive without
more
staff?

              Both of us are surprised to hear his office phone ring—especially at this hour. The pattern of the ringtone sounds like the call is being place from within the building.

              “Hello? Yes… un-huh... Well I’m here working late and wanted my staff to park safely. Yes it’s fine. I do authorize it. Yes. Thank you.”

              He hangs up, “Who was that?”

              “Security. They wanted to warn me of a suspicious vehicle parked in my spot.”

              “My car isn’t suspicious!”

              “Yes, but it’s not mine.”

              He loosens his tie, undoes the top button of his collar then powers down his cell,               “Okay,” he says exhaling, “That’s enough phone calling for the day.”

              “Congressman Orange?” I say closing my laptop.

              “Yes, Chantelle Williams?

              “I really liked, um,” I have no idea how to say what I’m about to say. Fortunately, I have an inability to edit my thoughts, “How did you, um…”

              “Say what you feel. We’re not on the clock. This is just you and I.”

              “I liked the way you, like, said stuff.”

              Eloquent, Chantelle.

              His eyes flick up to me from his hands. He seems…I don’t know… confused? Intrigued?

              “What
stuff
?” He paces over to me, sits on the edge of his desk.

              “Like how you talked. Said, um,” I clear my throat. “Dirty things.”

              If I weren’t such a prominent tone of brown, he’d see me blushing from ear to ear.

              He sets down his phone.

              “Is that something you enjoyed?”

              “Yes,” I say weakly, hoping he hears the hope in my undertone.

              “Would you like for me to do that again? Say dirty stuff?”

              He slips his tie from around his neck, balls it into his fist.

              I nod, “Yes.”

              “That’s why you came up here with me. You were hoping I’d do that to you again.”               He knows he’s dead on, got me figured out. He gets up knowingly, glides over to the door and locks it. Now we’re completely alone, in our own world. I’m nervous and excited at the same time as he turns off the lights and moves back toward me.

              “Up,” he requests in the form of a command. “Place your hands on my desk, please.”

              His office looks different at night. I’ve always thought of it as the perfect setting for the kinds of affairs you read about in books. I wondered what it’d be like to engage in illicit office behavior, but never thought it’d be me, much less with my billionaire boss who happens to be an elected official. People like him fuck blondes with fake tits, chase young fresh-out-of-the-sorority-house tail.

              “Like this?” I say flattening my palms to the black leather pad centered on his desk. I’m facing the wall of windows, intrigued that I see our reflection. I’m like a voyeur present at my own fucking.

              He approaches me from behind, staring right at my ass, “Yes, just like that.”

              I close my eyes feeling the back of my dress lift.

              “I’ve wanted you bent over my desk for quite some time.”

              Ah!

              He cracks his hand on my ass.

              My mind goes cloudy.

              Is he spanking me?

             
Slap!

              He hits me again.

              “Still,” he says, pressing my chest to the desk. I’m not sure what I’m confused about more right now. The fact that I’m being spanked, or that I’m one hundred percent turned on by the idea of being objectified in this way, that I’m the source of sexual fulfillment for him.

              I wriggle with delight.

             
Slap!

              “Ooh!”

              “I said still, Chantelle.”

              Ugh, irritating. I want to see his face, how he looks at me…

              I could see myself in the reflection, if my cheek weren’t planted on his desk. I mean, I’ve been instructed not to move, and it’s fun to play along, so...

              “Sir,” I ask quietly.

              He growls, “Yes?”

              “May I look forward, please?”

              “You like what I’m doing to you right now, don’t you?”

              “Yes.”

             
Slap!

              “Yes who, Chantelle.”

              “Yes sir.”

              I say it quickly. Jesus, I wasn’t expecting that last one. Squeezing my eyes shut, I’m anticipating one more.

              My ass stings on the right side. I don’t know how he lands with such accuracy! Like, literally the same spot every time. I can feel the imprint of his palm…

              My exposed cunt suddenly feels very lonely. I’m swollen with desire there, needing to feel him again. I either need to squeeze my thighs together, or for him to…              
Smack!

              “Aaaah, fuck!”

              He pokes his head around to check on me. I catch a brief glimpse of the huge erection he has before he steps back. A beat later he makes small soothing circles with his hand right on the sting. I close my eyes again, finding this moment a nice change in pace.

              “Are you okay? Was that too much?”

              “I’ve never done that before.”

              “You’ve never been spanked?”

              I shake my head, “But I liked it.”

              “Good. It excites me, too.”

              Hearing him honest in this way is such a turn-on. Like, bad.

              “Is it okay for me to get up, now?”

              “You’re so obedient. Of course you can get up. I’m pleased that you even let me do that.”

              “I think I like that kind of stuff.”

              “Is that right?”

              “Mmhm.”

              I pull him in by the belt. It’s time for me to show him what I can do. I motion for him to sit. He settles into the chair uncomfortably. It’s not his. A foreign object his visitor sit in, no comparison to the fancy chair he sits in on the other side of his desk.

              “Hard, isn’t it?”

              “I didn’t realize it was so uncomfortable.”

              “Your cock, silly.”

              “Mm, go on.”

              And I do. I tell him I want him to fuck my pussy again, but not before he makes me come with his filthy mouth. He tells me he should be punished for his thoughts, that this is only the tip the iceberg of the things he wants to do to me. He leans back into the chair, undoes his pants and starts on his cock. He says some day he wants to hear me beg for it, works himself right in front of me, waiting for a comeback.

              “God, I want your pussy in my face.”

              Whoa. He’s
good.

              He grows a crooked smile, “You liked that, didn’t you?”

              I can’t hide my amusement.

              “Easy when it’s the truth,” he says, standing up. My heart races as he moves toward me… over me… I get onto the desk, go to my elbows. For the second time tonight he undoes the snap between my legs, fingers my pussy and inserts himself. I drop back, feeling his thrusts completely, because now my sex is completely spread, legs open all the way with both knees up instead of one.

Chapter 10

              “His checks don’t elect me. The people do.” The next day Bryn and Congressman Orange get into a heated discussion over the location of his victory night party. Since the Parramore event was such a success, he wants to reject the invite form the Ritz Carlton and hold his election night party there.

              The conversation isn’t pretty. Bryn ends up leaving in a huff. It’s clear who wins.

              “Chantelle, may I have a word with you?” He stands in his doorway with that look. I know what’s about to go down. I take a swig of water to hide my blushing. I shouldn’t be nervous but I am, or maybe it’s excitement. I don’t know. But considering the festivities from the night before, entering his office drums up all sorts of emotion.

              “Sir,” I say. He shuts the door quietly behind me.

              “You really like calling me sir, don’t you?”

              “You know I do.” As he should, it was used quite a bit last night.

              I sit over at his desk.

              “How are you doing today?” I can feel him reading my body as he walks around his desk, takes a seat. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything that you need?”

              “No, I’m good.” I answer safely, unsure of whether we’re talking about last night, or…

              “How’s your ass?”

              Whew!
Hot.

              “Good… better… good.”

              Delight wells in me down below as moments from last night flash in my mind. It was in this very seat that he made me come twice with his mouth.

              I cross my ankles. Squeezing my thighs a little should help settle the sudden excitement I feel down there.

              “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

              “No,” I hesitate. “I think I like rough.”

              Is that a twinkle in his eye?

              A smile comes over him; a happy, kid-opening-his-presents-on-Christmas-Day countenance about him.

              “Are you busy this evening?”

              “No.”

              “Perhaps you’ll be up for change of scenery.”

              “Are you asking me out?”

              “Yes.”

              “I can pick you up. You can ride with me. Whatever you want to do.” He seems very intent on me making my decisions, a trait I’ve recognized in him for a while when he is on his best behavior. Even though I am dutiful, fulfilling his requests, he’s really given me free reign all of this time, wanted
me
to be pleased when I am with him.

              “Wait, aren’t you going to L.A. this weekend?” I remember that this is the weekend of his charity golf event.

              “Yes, I am. So pack light if you’re going to spend the weekend with me. It’s warm there.”

              He’s asking me something again in the form of a command.

              “Are you mandatorily insinuating that I should go home and pack?”

              “If we’re going to make our flight on time, yes.” He leans back in his chair, “So, will you be joining me?”

              “Yes,” I say as he leans across his desk.

              “Fuck yeah,” he asserts pulling me in for a kiss.

THE END

Hot and Heavy with My Dad’s Best Friend

Jenna Grant sighed and looked at her car. Her steaming car. It had to be something like the radiator, but as for what it could be precisely, she had no idea. She wasn’t much of a car person, and hers wasn’t the newest or best, or, apparently running. She couldn’t expect her car to do that, could she?

This was bad. Very bad. She’d been out with her friends tonight, celebrating Pat’s brand new job. While Jenna hadn’t had too much to drink, she was dressed just this side of naughty. It wasn’t often she got a chance to go out with the girls, much less for more than dinner after work. She would usually be dressed in her cartoon-animal scrubs, visiting with friends right from work. Tonight, she’d shed her pediatric nurse clothes and had let her hair down a bit. Both literally and figuratively.

And now, at 1 am, she was stranded on a country road—great idea, that shortcut—with a dead cell phone and a shorter than short miniskirt. This was the stuff every horror movie began with, and she had no intention of being that too stupid to live heroine, looking doe-eyed in her last moments.

Yeeeah. No, that wasn’t happening. She looked from side to side, scanning the fields that bordered her town’s high school. The school had been planned and built way out, in an area that wasn’t residential or commercial. She’d have to hike a few miles at best, in high heels that she wasn’t used to wearing.

Jenna held her breath as a car whipped by. It had moved so slowly that she hadn’t even thought to wave, though her hazards were blinking merrily. A couple hundred yards away, the driver stopped and she watched, hopeful, as he or hopefully
she
, would help.

The car—some black car—maybe a Mustang—stopped and the driver’s side door opened. Someone big and tall and very, very male stepped out. It was dim; he wasn’t washed in the lights of her hazards, and she had a brief fight or flight reaction, but she managed to squelch it. Barely.

Then he stepped into the lights of her car, and she gasped. This wasn’t anyone strange; this was someone she knew, and knew well.

“Hi, Nick,” she said, her heart suddenly hammering. He stopped in his perusal, looking her up and down slowly. When he got to her face, his eyes widened, and he licked his lips.

“Jenna?” he asked and she could sense he was blushing. “What are you—” He stopped himself. “What are you…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Breakdown,” she said softly, very aware that she was in party clothes.

“Did you call your dad?” he asked, and she shook her head. Nick and her father had been friends since grammar school, and she imagined he would have assumed that.

“No, my phone is dead.”

He kept looking at her; her father’s very best friend in the world. Uncle Nick; she’d grown up with him. And he’d so been checking her out. Whoa. Weird. But kind of...nice.

“Where have you been, Jenna?” he asked, his voice rougher than she could ever remember it being. That was so not Uncle Nick; later just Nick. He’d been a constant in her life since she could remember, whether it was Dad and Uncle Nick going to games some weekends, to him watching her when Mom and Dad had gone away for their fifteenth anniversary, to helping her with her college essays, to…well, everything.

She’d always thought of him as Dad’s best friend, never as a guy, but whoa boy he was checking her out in a way that was anything but interested.

Then again, Jenna was dressed pretty revealingly, not at all like her demure work-like self. Instead of Mickey and Minnie on her scrubs, she had an off the shoulder top, with a statement bra on underneath, her top thin enough that her red and black bra showed through. Her skirt wasn’t quite mini—as a bigger than average gal she didn’t feel comfortable in skirts that revealed too much, especially when her shirt did.

“Can I help?” he asked, pulling out his phone. He didn’t wait for her to answer, just dialed a number. “Triple A,” he told her, leaning against the side of her car. His hair was mussed, his shirt open to the third button, which wasn’t like him at all.

But damn he looked good. Really good. Beyond good. He had a ruggedness that none of the guys at the club had, or if they did, they certainly didn’t look at girls like her.

Girls like her meaning curvier. She was the biggest in her friends group and nobody seemed to look at her—not first or last, just period. She wasn’t interesting to men, not when they had their pick of her cuter, smaller friends.

Then again, she thought of most men her age as boys rather than men. They were so immature and that was a problem for her. She wanted more—more everything, but starting with maturity.

“Going to be a couple of hours,” Nick said, swiping his finger over the face of his phone. “Do you want to go back to your place, or mine? I think mine would be better, since I can talk with the mechanic when they tow it to a garage.”

His? Oh yeah, his.

Jenna hadn’t been to his current house; he’d gotten divorced and had moved in closer to the city, in order to have a quicker commute to work.

“I had them tow to my mechanic, Jenna. Yours must be twenty miles away and that’ll add up in towing costs. You can crash at my place instead of relying on your dad to commute you back.”

She considered his words and gave it consideration. It all made sense; too much sense. And she was sure she had imagined the way he’d looked at her. She was his best friend’s daughter and there was no way he’d go there. Not with her.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nick watched his best friend’s kid bending over and tried not to think about how her skirt was riding up a little bit and how the door was blocking his view of that bra. He’d have to talk with Tony and mention that Jenna was being a little wild. Though he had no idea how he’d sell this to his buddy—Tony would probably kick his ass.

Hell, Nick would kick his own ass if he could. Jenna was doing all sorts of things he couldn’t face quite yet and didn’t want to imagine. No, not yet. Or maybe not at all. Ever. Nope never. Jenna was his buddy’s kid, and he had to keep remembering that. Even if she was dressed more like a streetwalker than the young woman he’d gotten to know.

“Ready,” she said, teetering back up tall. She wobbled a moment and he resisted the urge to steady her. When she glanced over to his car, and then gave him a grin, his pants started to tighten.

Whoa, Nellie. Not good at all.

“I love it,” she told him, her voice a low, sexy alto. “Mustangs are just sexy. Were you off having a good time tonight then?”

Good night? Just the opposite. He’d had a date go really badly—she wasn’t over her boyfriend and had far too much to drink. There had been a little cock teasing, and she’d wanted a kiss before he dropped her off. She’d been so drunk he’d let himself in with her and had waited until she’d gotten ready for bed. It had happened far too slowly. He was tired, more than a little cranky, and somewhat horny, though he didn’t want to admit to that. Not to himself and definitely not to Jenna.

“No,” he replied softly. “What’s got you in that?” he asked, gesturing to her provocative outfit. Jenna was more a jeans, tee shirt, and flip flops kind of girl, so this was surprising. And fuckin’ hot, okay, he could admit that.

“A friend of mine got a new job. She’s going to be working for the mayor’s office and she invited us all out for drinks and dancing.” She motioned to her clothes and shrugged. “It isn’t really my thing.”

Oh hell yes, it was. “You look good,” he said, not believing he said the words. He wanted to take them back—what was he thinking showing his hand like that?

‘Thanks,” she said, her face reddening. He could tell it in the dim light, but with luck, she wouldn’t have any idea what he was thinking or feeling—or showing, for that matter.

He came around and opened the passenger side door, not because she was girly and needed him to, or even because it was good manners. He did it because he wanted to watch those gorgeous thighs as she slid into the car. Would that skirt ride up any higher, affording him a better view of her curvy legs. And how the seatbelt would constrict her cleavage. That one bare shoulder looked so fucking creamy and kissable, and he winced, knowing his plans to go home and jack off to some faceless imaginary lover were done. Maybe he could wait until she went to sleep, or curb his normally loud lovemaking style. Or maybe he’d just go to sleep. Yeah, that would be good, it was late, after all.

Then he watched her slip into his car, and oh yeah, that skirt rode up, giving him a small peek at her thigh, creamy and so not approachable. That seat belt clipped over her gorgeous breasts and that equally creamy and delectable shoulder, damn it all to hell.

He was in trouble; more trouble than Nick might be prepared to handle. Handle? Oh yeah, he wanted to handle that. “All set?” he asked, trying not to growl the words.

“All good,” she replied, looking up at him and giving him a sunny smile. Oh yeah, it was all good. Just great.

“Good,” he replied, closing the door gently. He came around the back of his car, adjusting his suddenly-too-tight pants. This was going to be a long, long night.

Nick drove them back to his place, a townhouse in a shopping multi use community neighborhood. He knew she’d never been to his place, and hoped she wouldn’t think of it as too bachelor pad. He wasn’t a messy person, but he did live alone, and he thought his design aesthetic was comfortably casual. It wasn’t for everyone, but he wasn’t ready to make a complete man cave. He loved his gourmet kitchen, for example, and cooking in it was fantastic. It might not be expected, but it was him. He might be the guy to take a home done meal to a football potluck. None of his buddies ever minded. Hell, most of them were divorced anyway and needed to cook for themselves and sometimes their kids, though most of the guys had kids in college now. Or graduates in the workforce, like Jenna. She’d been working as a nurse a few years now, Tony mentioned it with pride often. But in the next breath, he often bemoaned the fact that she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend in years. Tony, like most of the guys, wanted grandkids when he was young. And his daughter settled, though Nick knew his buddy wouldn’t give that a voice. That wasn’t the sort of things guys in their group were even willing to discuss.

Nick slid into the driver’s side seat and looked over at her. This felt right in a way he didn’t dare try to identify. It could sit alongside his sexual arousal, banked and ignored. But he had the sense that it, too, would explode at some juncture and overtake common sense.

Yeah, what a great night. Nick flicked on the radio, a driving classic rock track he loved pouring through the speakers. It would be better to speed away and avoid conversation. He could keep his eyes locked on the road and pretend he couldn’t smell her lemony perfume, pretend he didn’t want to drown in the taste of her skin. If she smelled and looked that delectable, how would her mouth taste, how would her body feel rocking under his.

He bit off a groan that he hoped was hidden by the music and focused on the road, though all his other senses were working overtime imagining what she would be like in his bed.

Jenna closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. This was a favorite song from one of her favorite bands. In fact, she remembered singing and dancing around the kitchen to this song when she’d been home from college, doing a shake and shimmy in a tee shirt and short shorts. Nick had come in and sang along with her, and at the end of the song, he’d applauded, giving her a very sexy smirk. She’d rushed off to her room, panties embarrassingly wet, nipples so hard she’d whimpered, and she’d gotten herself off twice that night.

Memories…

She looked over at Nick, who she wasn’t sure realized that he was singing along to a Styx song. His gaze was focused in on the road, which was empty. He wasn’t speeding as much as she might have, but she appreciated the way he took the curves. If he handled his car this well, what else could he handle and how well would he handle them?

Jenna swallowed hard. My god, what did he think of her?

“I wasn’t hoping to get picked up by anyone,” she told him, not quite sure why she was saying the words.

“You wanted to be stranded?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Absolutely not,” she told him with a giggle. “I just wasn’t out tonight trying to see if any guys would give me attention. Most guys my age are…”

“Are?”

“Yeah. Are.” Are what, how could she describe it? “Immature. Uninteresting, I guess.”

“You guess? Sounds like you don’t know what you want, kiddo.”

Kiddo? Kiddo?!? Those were fighting words. “I know exactly what I want from a lover.” She used that last word deliberately, knowing that it would very likely cause a reaction from him. And it did. He grunted and muttered something she could only barely hear, and couldn’t discern, It might have been “bullshit” or the like.

“Okay, Jenna, I’ll bite. What do you want from a
lover
, kiddo?” That word had a little sarcastic edge, as if he still actually thought of her as a young person, needing to be coddled or condescended to. And no, that was not happening, no way, no how.

She turned to face him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I need a man, a lover who knows how to make me scream, Nicholas. I need a man with a big cock who knows how to use it. I need a man who can make me come while he’s tasting my pussy. I need a man who can allow me to suck his cock, keeping him on the edge for hours. I need a real man, a mature man.”