The Boss's Daughter (4 page)

* * * * *

“Yum.” Cassandra kissed Samson hard, opening her mouth, taking control. Samson was a good lover, willing to try anything she wanted.

She had such a delicious plan. At home, she’d managed to sneak a peek at Holt’s cell phone. He had all his VPs’ numbers in there. She’d only memorized Ward’s. As soon as she left the house with Ruby’s card and office keys, she’d called Samson. Cassandra believed in having friends with benefits in every city you frequented. Samson was available on short notice.

Then she’d texted Ward, telling him to be at her father’s office
stat
. He would come because she’d mentioned Holt. He would know it was her despite the unknown number because she’d referred to Holt as her father. And he’d come because he’d be dying to know what she had planned for him.

“Oh baby,” she whispered softly. Warm breath in his ear drove Samson wild. He grabbed her butt and rubbed her belly hard against his cock, then lifted her to the hard wood surface of her father’s desk. The lights had all been off, the building empty. She’d used Ruby’s alarm code to shut everything down.

Yes, there really was meaning in all the trust Ruby had bestowed on her. She wouldn’t violate it. But she would have such a marvelous time.

“Kiss me, you fool.” She loved the cliché. And she enjoyed his mouth. She’d chosen Samson in the beginning because, really, what woman didn’t need a lover named Samson. He was big, beefy, with biceps she couldn’t manage to get her fingers all the way around. His thighs were the size of tree trunks, which were so good for fucking while standing up. He could actually hold her aloft and lift her rhythmically. It was delicious.

“You know what I need, don’t you, baby?” She gave him a catlike purr.

“Tell me, my love.” His voice was a deep gravel that stroked every nerve ending. He always used silly endearments; they were part of his charm. He imagined himself to be Fabio or some other romance cover model. He was a decent lover. He was perfect for what she had in mind tonight.

“Lick me.” She ran her tongue around the rim of his ear.

Samson worked his lips down her chest, over her abdomen. She’d worn a low-cut blousy top and a full, flowered skirt. They were off-the-rack, but sometimes a girl needed something simple with easy access. Samson pushed her skirt up and stepped between her legs. Before he licked her, he stroked her clit, kissing her mouth at the same time, his tongue mimicking what he planned to do.

Her excitement was high up in her throat, pounding in her ears, throbbing in her chest. Samson was good, but what she’d felt as Ward Restin watched her on the bed was even better. She meant to have that sensation again.

“I’m so ready, baby.” She pushed on his broad shoulders, forcing him down where she wanted him. He had to be there before Ward arrived.

Samson went to his knees before her and spread her legs. “You’re so pretty, Cassie.”

“Cassandra.” She didn’t let anyone use the shortened version, not even in the throes of orgiastic delight. Fisting her fingers in his thick blond hair, she directed him. “Now.”

He swirled his tongue around her clit, then shoved two hands beneath and clamped her butt.

“Oh God yes.” Cassandra rested her legs on his shoulders and went back on her elbows. “That is so good.” He was massive, blond, blue-eyed, and perfect. “Oh yes, just like that.”

Finally,
finally
, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She’d closed the blinds and only the desk lamp illuminated the room. Ruby’s office, which was an annex to Holt’s, lay in darkness. But she sensed the shadow, felt his presence. Ward was watching.

She flooded Samson’s tongue with moisture. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, knowing Ward could hear her words, that he’d be hard, wanting her, needing her. In that moment, she understood her sexual problem over the past few months. Planning the boutique had only been part of it; boredom was the rest. Ward had woken her up. He’d set her libido humming again.

“Oh God.” The sweet ecstasy rolled over her. Her body jerked and spasmed. She clamped her legs around Samson’s head and kept him there, right
there
in that deliciously sensitive spot.

She opened her eyes and found the shadow in the office, stock still, tall, silent, and bristling with sexual energy like an aura around him.

Samson was just the device. It was Ward who made her climax.

Chapter Four

She was captivating in her ecstasy. Just watching her, Ward was perspiring, his cock hard. She writhed on the top of Holt’s desk, the blond wrestler type forcing her to ride the peak for long moments. The guy was broad with a thick neck, the hunky sort of every woman’s fantasy. And Cassandra was definitely enjoying every lick and swirl.

Her classic features were illuminated by the desk lamp. With the blinds closed, she was spotlighted, her breasts bobbing as she rolled to her partner’s rhythm, her fists burrowed in hanks of his hair. Then she turned her head, opened her eyes, and the light of them pierced him as if she could see every line of his body in the dark office.

And he understood her game. She wanted him here as her voyeur. As she had when he watched her on Wednesday, she came hard, her body bucking. He enhanced her pleasure, only God knew why.

He should be appalled. He should feel used. He should be irate that she was giving to another man what Ward wanted for himself. She’d labeled him a peeper, a pervert, a tool. What manner of woman was she? Worse, what manner of man was he?

Yet his heart pounded as the beefy guy backed away, grabbed Cassandra’s hips and flipped her over until she was facedown on the desk, her high heels braced on the carpet. With hands the size of bears paws, he pushed the flowered skirt up over her ass. Her cheeks were creamy white, delectable. Thick, stubby fingers worked between her legs. She moaned, turned her face once more to the outer office, and bit her lip, her gaze on Ward.

He wanted to stick his tongue in her mouth while the other man did her. He wanted to hold her, suck her nipples, be a part of it. He wanted her to suck him while she was being fucked. The idea both inflamed and terrified him. It was crazy. It was needy. It was unmanly.

Beefcake reached inside his jeans pocket and produced a condom packet, which he ripped open with his teeth. All the while he kept playing her. Unzipping, he pulled out his impressive cock. At least in that department, Ward wasn’t worried about negative comparisons. The guy broke finger contact to roll on the condom. He stood still a long moment, his cock poised at her core, one big hand on her sweet ass. Ward held his breath. Then Beefcake plunged, and Cassandra cried out. She gripped the edge of the desk, anchoring herself for his thrusts.

The man was an animal, going at her, pounding furiously.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Cassandra called out. “God, yes, please fuck me, please. It’s so good. I love it.” She turned her head. Her eyes sparked. “You love it too, I know you do. Say you do. Say you need it. You want it. You love it.”

“Fuck yes,” Beefcake said.

She hadn’t been talking to him. The words were for Ward. His answer was yes to everything. He wanted it, needed it, loved it. His body was one big mass of nerves, quivering with need, heady with desire. He would have walked into that office, unzipped, and stroked himself for her, if that’s what she wanted. He imagined the spray of his come across her backside, and he almost climaxed right then. His legs felt weak, his knees wanted to buckle. But he held himself straight, and he watched as she hit her peak, starting with a long, low moan, ending with a wail of pure delight. Letting go of the desk, she scraped one hand down her face, stuck two fingers in her mouth, then laughed.

Beefcake grunted, stroked hard and fast. The muscles of his face spasmed slightly as he came inside her. He short-stroked, riding the orgasm to the very end. Then he slumped down on her back, covering her, and Ward could barely see her under his bulk.

“Jesus, baby,” the man muttered in guttural tones.

“Oh Samson, you’re unbelievable.” Her laugh was muffled beneath him.

Samson? That had to be a joke.

Ward’s blood pressure was high, his ears buzzing. It was time to get out of there. He backed out of the office slowly, imprinting the sight on his brain. Her long red hair flowed over the desk, her small white hands lay beside Samson’s bigger ones. Their legs were tangled together.

He wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted from him, but he sensed she had some sort of plan. And he knew he’d do whatever she asked, whether he wanted to or not.

* * * * *

In the morning, Cassandra’s bedroom door was closed, and Ruby found both her card key and office key on top of her purse where she’d left it in the dining room.

“Ready to go, baby?” Holt was pulling on his suit jacket as he exited the hallway.

“Yes.” She affixed the card’s lanyard to her blazer and shoved the key in her purse pocket.

He pulled her under his arm and kissed her forehead. Holt did very little touching in front of other people, even his daughter. They’d had wild, raucous sex while Cassandra was out, but the moment Holt heard her rental car pulling up in front of the house, he’d dropped his voice. Ruby had done likewise without even thinking.

She relished the quiet time in the car as Holt drove them to work. She and Clay had usually gone separately. Ruby either had errands to run or Clay intended to work late in the evening. Or something else would come up. Later she and Holt might develop that same pattern, but for now, she was content to sit in the passenger seat and watch him drive. It was quite pathetic; she’d turned in a lapdog. Yet Ruby didn’t care. Holt made her happier than she’d ever been.

The only blot on her horizon was Cassandra. She hadn’t said anything to Holt, but his daughter obviously wasn’t happy about their marriage. And what was up with that business about leaving a present on Holt’s desk? Ruby felt tricked into handing over her keys. She resented it. Yet she didn’t want to resent Cassandra. She didn’t want anything to come between her and Holt. She couldn’t let Cassandra become a complication.

“You’re quiet,” Holt said.

“Just thinking.” She wasn’t going to voice any of her misgivings about Cassandra.

Holt lapsed into a discussion of the morning’s agenda and the tasks he’d need her to accomplish. She smiled to herself. It couldn’t be sex and romance all the time. She still worked for him. They hadn’t told anyone about the marriage plans yet. There was nothing in the company manual that said they couldn’t work together if they got married, but they’d have to change a few things, like who signed off her purchase orders, so that everything was aboveboard.

She could quit work—they certainly didn’t need her salary—but Ruby didn’t want to leave him. She knew what he needed, could anticipate most of his moves. She knew the customers, the suppliers, the board members.

“I’m not going to stop working,” she said, as if they’d actually been discussing the possibility.

“Of course not.” He flipped on his blinker, glanced back to his blind spot, then moved over for their exit. “I don’t want to train someone else.” At the bottom of exit ramp, he looked at her pointedly. “I want a woman who’s going to do exactly what I tell her.”

She loved the new status. When the office door closed, she was his sex slave. He spanked her and did all manner of kinky things behind that closed door. It was sexy and exciting.

As he headed the car back over the freeway, she turned her wrist to check the time. “I do believe we’ll be half an hour early.” Holt was a stickler for turning her into his slave only outside of work hours, which meant before eight, lunchtime, or after five.

Holt didn’t say anything, but his lips curved in a sexy little half smile that promised a little closed-door activity.

Once inside the building, the alarm was still armed, meaning they were the first in for the day. It also meant Cassandra had keyed out properly. Ruby’s office was directly outside Holt’s so that his visitor’s had to go through her first before they could get to him. Both doors were locked.

So what was Cassandra’s little present?

Holt unlocked his door while Ruby put her purse in her bottom desk drawer.

“Ruby, get the hell in here.”

Her pulse kicked into high gear, a little fear, a lot of sexual excitement. Until, for just a moment, her heart plunged. What if Cassandra had left something bad? It would be Ruby’s fault. She’d been so stupid to give over her keys like that.

“Ruby,” Holt called again.

The blinds were closed, and he stood in front of his desk, hands on his hips, legs spread. “Lock the door.”

All the breath rushed out of her lungs. He was so perfect, six feet, thick silver hair, stern, handsome features. Since the first time, only a few weeks ago, that he’d called her into his office and told her to close the door, she’d been his completely.

She knew what the locked door and closed blinds meant. “What would you like me to do?”

“Tell me what that is on my desk?” He pointed.

It was a large drawing on a big sheet of paper. Ruby couldn’t make out the picture. Reaching across the desk, she turned it.

And gasped. A white wedding dress, but no ordinary dress. It was a halter style that bared the shoulders and dipped low over the cleavage. The bodice was beaded, the waistline trimmed in lace that ended in a point over the abdomen. The skirt hugged the hips and flared out just above the knees. It was gorgeous. It was perfect.

“What is it?” Holt snapped.

“It’s a sketch of a wedding dress.” Her voice sounded reverent even to her.

“And who left it there?”

“Cassandra.”

“When did she do that?” For the first time, he didn’t sound entirely domineering.

Ruby took a deep breath, steeling herself for his reaction. “Last night. I gave her my keys.”

“You gave her your keys?” He enunciated every word sharply.

“Yes.”

He narrowed his gray eyes at her. “Elbows on the desk.”

Ruby almost smiled. But that wouldn’t do. She leaned on the desk, her bottom in the air, the magnificent drawing right in front of her. She wanted that dress badly. It was perfect. Cassandra had sketched it just for her. She’d said it was a present for Holt, but this was all Ruby’s. And despite that talk last night and Cassandra’s warning, it meant Holt’s daughter accepted her. Didn’t it?