Services Collected Boxed Set (6 page)

BOOK: Services Collected Boxed Set
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I started rocking with his motions, pushing back into him even as he pounded into me, my body arched. I imagined someone staring out of their office windows at the scene before them. Perhaps pulling the blind over the door so they could watch the show undisturbed, pleasuring themselves even as my man pleasured me.
And I him
.

“I’m close,” he groaned.

“That’s it baby, come on,” I said. I wanted to feel him inside me – all of him. He started thrusting harder, until it was all I could do to grip the window pane before me, praying it would hold as he took me hard and fast. My own pleasure was ramping up even as his was.

Suddenly I felt him swell, and then he was mine, all mine, and his release inside of me tipped me over the edge, too. My body convulsed in sweet, wracking spasms of pleasure that flooded through me in a torrent I felt should never stop. We both collapsed against the window, him against my back, when we were done.

“What did you just purchase?” he whispered. “Because I think you bought my soul.”

 

 

BOOK 3:

After Mon Cheraise, it seems that nothing that can tear Anna and Jacob apart. Until Jacob’s movie star ex-girlfriend comes back on the scene.

Now Anna is running out of time to save her relationship, and she’s going to have to perform a pre-emptive strike if she is to be in with a chance.

Can Anna’s sexy surprise win Jacob King back? Or will the charms of Jacob’s movie star past blind him to their future?

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

How was it
that I could help buy a $20 Million business but still couldn’t pay the rent? I looked at the
final notice
in my hand. Was it wrong to ask for an advance from the man you were sleeping with?

I sighed, then threw the letter into the pile with all the others.
Yes. Yes it was.
I was a big girl, I could make it to pay day. Jacob King and I had something real, and I wasn’t going to risk it by accepting his charity, no matter how much he wanted me to.

Jacob King had more than enough money. Hell, he was a billionaire. And he’d said time and time again that he wanted to look after me. But I was the sort of woman that wanted honest money for an honest day’s work. That’s why I was working for him in the first place.

The thought of working for Jacob King gave me a tight little feeling between my thighs. That broad chest. Those intense, startling green eyes. Well, paying the rent wasn’t the only reason I was working for him.

I’d give anything to be with this man. We’d been together for so little time, but already I knew it – we were soul mates, destined to be together. And I wasn’t going to risk that just for some lousy bank notice. I wasn’t going to do anything, not the slightest, tiny little thing, that would make our love look anything other than what, in my heart of hearts, I knew it was.

I could see the headline if it ever came out that I had asked him for money. Probably what everyone was thinking already.
Scandal! Penniless harlot seduces handsome Billionaire!
There’d be a huge, unflattering photo of me on the front page, maybe a
Sharon Stone
shot of me getting out of a limousine. That made me laugh – sans panty in a limousine with Jacob King might be kind of fun!

The thought of newspapers made me pick this morning’s edition up off the table. It was kind of vain, but it would be cool to see news of the merger. Maybe even news about that manager that Jacob had fired as his first official act. It was petty, I know, but still satisfying to see the bastard that had almost broken us up get his comeuppance.

But there was nothing on the front page, just an interview with a movie starlet. Didn’t that say a lot about the public’s priorities? When a tale of lost love between the rich and famous made headlines over all the world’s other problems.

I began to read guiltily. It said a lot about me too – give me a trashy magazine with a hunk on the cover and a story about a dog that saves a family on the inside, and you wouldn’t see me for days.

Victoria Cutly, Hollywood darling and star of TV’s ‘the Moonshining’…

Damn I wish I had her hair. Look at her, getting out of a limousine demurely, so beautiful even in black and white. She’d never be caught sans panties.

I skimmed some more.
… recent breakup with reclusive logistics magnate Jacob King…

My eyes focused on the article again, no longer just skimming. What was this?

Victoria Cutly, Hollywood darling and star of TV’s ‘the Moonshining’ talks candidly with News Today about her recent breakup with reclusive logistics magnate Jacob King…

This was the ex-girlfriend!

When asked about the split, Miss Cutly described it as the biggest mistake of her life.

Damn right bitch! He’s mine now!

“It was a period where I was a bit screwed up, you know?” she told reporter Luke Allan. “I’m not proud of the affairs, or the lying, but that’s all behind me now. I’ve, like, had some big revelations and stuff, these last few weeks. I think I’m ready for another chance at love.”

Oh no. Please don’t let this go where I think it is.

“We’re soul mates. Perfect for each other. I’m hoping to get back together with Jacob King.”

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

It had been
an hour since the newspaper article, and all I could do was read it over and over again. Victoria Cutly, one of
the
most beautiful, famous women on the face of the planet, was Jake’s ex-girlfriend. What’s more, she wanted to get back together with him!

My mind was in shock. I was finding it hard to think. And when I did, all I kept coming back to was this: She was beautiful.
I wasn’t.
She was skinny.
I wasn’t
. They had a history.
We didn’t
.

How could I hope to compete against someone like that? I might as well pack up my things and go home right now – save myself the embarrassment of being kicked out later on.

We were so fresh. Jacob and I were just starting to find our feet – discover one another. And I knew it could be great if it was given the chance. Unfortunately, it looked like that was never going to be.

I pulled my emergency tub of Ben and Jerry’s from the Freezer. It was a Chunky Monkey kind of day, and it wasn’t even 9 a.m.

* * *

I
t wasn’t just that someone else wanted Jacob. Lord knows that was bad enough – my life was one sad story of losing-the-man to cheerleaders and women that ate salad for lunch. It was who wanted him. All American sweetheart Victoria Cutly, the
Angela Jolie
of Soap TV
.
The object of every teenage boy’s fantasy; every man’s desire. 

I couldn’t help myself – I started googling. And I knew as soon as the search results came up that I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t
E! News
material – mainly because Jacob was so private – but when you started looking, their love affair was online for the entire world to see. A photo here, a photo there. An article in a trashy magazine about Victoria Cutly’s ‘handsome new man’, a segment in a business newspaper about Jacob King financing her second
straight-to-DVD
movie. One article labelled it an ‘off again, on again romance.’

God.
Off again, on again!
That made things even worse. They’d done this sort of thing before! Was I the rebound? Was I the ‘get back at her’ girl I’d always promised I’d never be?

Ironically, it was Jacob who broke me out of my self-imposed depression. His text was short, sweet and wonderful.

‘Hi babe. Looking forward to seeing you this evening. J’

I sat contemplating it for a long, long time. Then, mentally, I slapped myself across the face. I needed to get a grip. She hadn’t stolen him yet. He probably didn’t even know she was back on the scene! He was travelling today – flying in from a business meeting on the coast. And I knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be reading
News Today
on the plane. He teased me mercilessly because it was just the sort of paper he didn’t get, and I loved.

That meant I had time. Time to make sure Victoria
Slutl
y couldn’t get her claws into him. Time to show him why, when the time came, he should pick me. Screw that

I was going to show him why there wasn’t even going to be a choice. And I knew just how I was going to do it.

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

Mon Cheraise was
one of the few high-end fashion houses that still manufactured within the US – apparently there was enough money in $4000 dresses that they didn’t need a 12 year old Indian girl to sew the seams. Its main headquarters was right in our home city; the reason I’d had a job there to begin with.

Jacob had picked me up (along with a certain, tightly held carry bag) shortly after five to head to the complex. He had a tradition when he purchased a new company to tour the building the day before he was supposed to arrive. He liked to see the real state of affairs in a business, not the ones put on for the ‘new rich owner.’

I’d been thrilled to be his tour guide when he’d suggested it. Here, finally, had been something I could do to add value to his business. Something that Jacob, with all of his money, wouldn’t have been able to obtain without me: an inside guide to the building, staff, layout and processes from the only person he could absolutely, 100% guarantee had his interests at heart.

Usually he just walked through the front doors unannounced and had the most senior person show him around for half a day. Now he could walk through after hours, with no-one there but us, and see what changed the following day when he rocked up for his real appointment. I’d already organized a key with security; they had promised to keep things under wraps.

“Are they always this messy?” Jacob asked after we had let ourselves in. We were touring the deserted factory floor first.

I looked around at the half dressed mannequins, the tables covered in material scraps and the bolts of cloth stacked beside each work desk. I laughed. “This is your first fashion house, isn’t it?”

His hand rested gently on the small of my back, sending a tingle of electricity through me. “How can you tell?”

“We, ah…” I fought the urge his touch generated in me. Time enough for that later. “We fashion people are a messy lot. Part of the creative process.”

He nodded, trusting my answer, and we continued walking, but my mind was no longer on the tour. His touch had reminded me of my plan for later. I had been going to wait, but now I didn’t think I could. I turned to him suddenly, and kissed him.

“What was that for?” he asked, hand running through his hair. “Not that I’m complaining, of course!”

I leaned up against him, playing with one of the buttons on his jacket. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really had a chance yet to thank you for putting this company in my hands.”

He grinned – a cheeky thing that put a smile in his eyes. “You did, actually. Under the desk. And on top of it.”

I stepped back, and the finger that had been playing with the button now went to my lips. My tongue flicked out to suck at it suggestively.  “That was only the start.” I said. “I thought, maybe, seeing as we’re in a fashion house, I might put on a show. What do you think?”

He swallowed, eyes on my finger. “Would it be anything like the show in the suit shop, that day we first met?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I would like that very much.” He started toward me but I held up my hand.

“Nah uh! I’m sure you’ve been to shows before. You know the rules, no touching.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to stick to those rules,” he said.

I grinned wickedly. Then I pulled a pair of handcuffs from my carry bag. “I know. That’s why I came prepared.”

His eyes went as round as saucers.

“Sit down,” I commanded. “The show’s about to start.”

* * *

F
ive minutes later, Jacob was cuffed securely to a chair looking very frustrated – and aroused – as I stood behind a changing screen and adjusted the finishing touches on my outfit. The fashion studio had screens scattered all over the place – tall black frames that stretched just a little above head height, providing a modicum of privacy for models that were required to try on dresses, or change for fittings. The top of my screen was layered with the various items I’d been wearing before getting changed; the gradual placement of them within sight of Jacob, the source of his frustration.

It was time for the show to start. My leg emerged from behind the screen first, a black five inch stiletto pump followed by stockings and the hint of suspenders. A hand reached out with a flourish, to reveal a black cuff and deep blue bodysuit snaking up the arm. It reached down to caress the ankle, and then trailed seductively up my leg until it disappeared once more. I stepped from cover, shaking my hair out in a whip I’d been practicing all afternoon, and blew my prisoner a kiss.

His eyes went wide as he surveyed my not-quite-official policewoman outfit. It was more stripper than officer, the sort you might find in a sex shop – which was exactly where I’d bought it. Cleavage spilled out the top and sexy boy shorts emphasized all the right curves at the bottom. A black leather belt cinched the waist, complete with baton and aviators. An officer’s peaked cap finished the outfit.

I hadn’t been sure how I’d feel stepping out in front of Jacob – I wasn’t exactly the model on the side of the box. But when I looked at the bulge in Jacob’s pants as I slowly revealed myself, I was glad I’d decided to take the chance.

“Holy fuck!”

I sauntered toward him, baton slapping phallically in my hand. “Now, now, Mr. King,” I breathed. “That’s no way to talk to
an officer
is it?”

He swallowed.

“You will call me ma’am, and you will do as I say. Is that understood?”

He gulped. “Yes.”

I looked at him over the top of my aviators, then raised an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

I licked my lips slowly. “Very good.” Then I turned around, working my hips as I walked to a nearby workstation, and leaned toward a radio I had seen earlier. I pressed the power button as I looked over my shoulder. His eyes were focused intently on my prominently displayed rump. I saw him unconsciously lick his lips as I gave it a little wiggle.

Joe Cocker’s
Leave your Hat On
filled the area.
How appropriate
. I turned to face him again and his eyes bounced guiltily back to my face. “It’s ok baby. You’re allowed to look,” I said. “That’s the whole point…”

Seeing his eyes rove over my body was so sexy.
So…
I searched for the right word…
empowering.

I closed my eyes, letting the music take me. My fingers lightly caressed the Lycra covering my nipples before snaking down my sides to rest at my hips. The hips started to sway from side to side with the slow, sensuous music. Both hands reached up gently, with thumb and forefinger, to undo a button on my straining top – I hadn’t done it all the way up to begin with. It released with a pop, showing lacy black bra underneath, and when I looked at Jacob I didn’t have eye contact anymore. I took a step toward him, this time undoing a button from the very bottom of the tiny outfit. By the time I had reached my man, only one poor last button at chest height was working under incredible pressure to preserve my modesty.

I leaned down toward him, still handcuffed to his chair, until my breasts were inches from his face, so close his hot, fast breathing gave me goosebumps. I perched my hat on his head, then, as I stood up, breathed deeply. The last button popped with a zing, and the shirt fell open to reveal spider webs of silk and cotton straining underneath. My hands went to my hair, arms covering my face to hide my smile of delight; Jacob was panting – literally panting – at the show I was putting on. It was so hot I was getting excited too. I stepped away from him once again.

A new song came on, one I didn’t recognize, and my hips started to move in time to the seductive, throbbing beat. My hands fell, releasing my hair to cascade over my shoulders. Then I moved to the button on my pants, finding it under my belt. I hadn’t threaded the belt for just this purpose.

I stood, legs slightly apart, holding his gaze as my hips gyrated. I popped the button and his eyes snapped down involuntarily. My hands pulled the zip down slightly, revealing matching lace underneath, then slid it back up, teasing. His eyes remained locked on my shorts, following the zip until I slid it all the way down. I spun away from him, hooking my thumbs in the back of my pants, then bent forward slightly and with a slow, sensual rock slid them over my backside and down my thighs. As they reached my stilettos I paused, hands running up my legs to caress the lace at the top, and then turned once again.

“Oh god. Anna. What are you doing to me?” A small bead of sweat had broken out on Jacob’s brow. His chest was heaving.

I stepped one foot out of the shorts, then flicked my other forward, hooking the pants toward him. They landing on his broad, muscular chest then slid down to rest against the hard bulge in his lap. I licked my lips. “Exactly what I want, that’s what.”

As I said it, a revelation came over me. I’d started off doing this because I was afraid I’d lose Jacob. And that was still a real fear. But more than that, now, I was doing this because
I wanted to do it
. I wasn’t being forced by my fears anymore. I was being forced by my wants.

I stood before him, naked except for stilettos, lingerie and a belt with a baton, and I’d never felt so sensual, so wanted, so
powerful
in all my life. Here was a man who was following my every move. Making me feel wanted with every gasping breath, making me feel needed as his hard bulge stretched and grew.

But I needed him too. I licked my lips. There was a tightness between my thighs that only he could cure.

“Please, this is killing me. I want to fuck you so bad,” he moaned, struggling against his bonds.

His words snapped me back to reality. “Now, now. That’s no way to treat an officer, is it?”

“No…”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“No ma’am.”

“Good man. You’re learning. Do you think you should be rewarded?”

“Yes… ma’am.”

I ran my hands sensually over my body, exploring it. My nipples were hard under the lace; excited, expectant. My hands snaked down to feel gyrating hips, then briefly caress the damp material below. I looked at him, then looked at his lap and licked my lips. “I could be persuaded. If you’re lucky.”

My hands went behind my back, unclasping my bra. I held the material to my breasts as the straps fell away. “Would you like this to come off?”

He nodded mutely.

I spun away from him, then slowly released the bra from my breasts to raise it above my head, striking a pose with one hip popped; a cheerleader with a pom-pom high in the air. I let the bra fall, imagining his eyes following its lacy passage to the ground, and then I spun back around, one arm still held high, the other holding both breasts tight. His eyes snapped from the fallen bra to the covered breasts, as I knew they would. I bit my lip, and then slowly, oh so slowly, slid my arm until just a hint of nipple showed through my fingers. He was wild before me, handcuffs straining in anticipation. “Yes…” he whispered.

I removed my arm, as if not even thinking about what I was doing, to run both hands through my hair. My body was before him now in almost naked glory, and it felt so good to see the lust in his eyes, the way my body drove him wild.

I leaned forward, snatching my hat from his head to wear it once again. Then I pulled the baton from my belt, licking the leathery tip before using it to circle each nipple in a slick trail that hypnotized my prisoner. It was the most obvious of phallic symbols, but then guys weren’t known for being subtle. His eyes dilated as I moved it downwards to the top of my lace panties.

“Take it off, please!” His whisper was desperate. Wanting. “Take it off.”

I walked forward to straddle his feet, licking a trail up the baton while I held his eyes, then running a glistening line with it from his forehead down over his broad, heaving chest to rest gently on the hard bulge in his pants. His hands clenched once more, straining at his cuffs.

“Actually, I’ve got something else in mind,” I said. My hips started gyrating in larger circles now, and I spun slowly until I was facing away from him once again, lace panties occupying his entire view. My feet spread to either side of him and I bent down, keeping my legs straight like I’d seen strippers do in the movies. The effect must have been good, because I heard him stuck in a breath, and his handcuffs rattled once again. I ran a hand up the inside of my thigh, looked back over my shoulder at him, and winked. Then I reached for his lap, and lowered myself onto him, grinding against his hard member, feeling it move against me even as I moved myself. The deep throb of the music kept time with the throbbing need I could feel growing within me.

I had intended only to get naked for him, but now

I had to have him
. I spun and leaned down to kiss him hard, hands fumbling at his belt, then the zip to his pants. He sprang free gloriously from his prison; hard and urgent.

“Please…” he whispered again. “I need you. I… I love you.”

I caressed him gently before me, enjoying his smooth length, memorizing him with my hands and eyes – his warm softness, his hard contours. And then, I turned around once more, backing up to him, grinding my backside against his firm, hard member, feeling it as it rubbed slowly over my skin, then against lace. A hand reached down to grasp it firmly. I used it to push aside the wet lace that separated him from my spread legs.

BOOK: Services Collected Boxed Set
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