If you haven't caught my Tasty Blurb Tour, check it out. I'm giving away an $25 gift card. But you're here for an excerpt, right?
NSFW, but then again my hero, Ian, isn't ever safe for work.
****
“So,
I've ruined you?”
Jocelyn
didn't have to turn around to see the pleased smile. She couldn't let
the egotistical comment stand. “Less you and more me, because all
the stuff I've asked for were things I already fantasized about. I'll
have to find someone else to do them with after you go. Teach someone
else what I've learned about myself.” She grinned, practically
seeing his annoyed expression. “You know, since the student has
surpassed the teacher.”
“I
can't have that then. I've got a reputation.”
She
stilled at the low tone and closed her eyes. His voice was husky and
a little bit raw. Ian only ever talked to her like that when they
were naked. Hearing him now, like
that, at work, felt like she'd
brushed up against a live wire. Within seconds her panties were damp
and her mouth dry. Damn.
It
was inappropriate and grounds for firing to screw at work, but it was
barely ten in the morning and waiting until five felt impossible.
What had she turned into letting him have her in every way, in any
way she asked for? A nympho, apparently. She tried to breathe through
it and didn't turn around to him just yet. If she did and he looked
like he was one swallow away from devouring her, all bets were off.
She
handled the antique like a good curator was supposed to and let the
quiet eat away at the anticipatory tension in the air. Jocelyn
counted her steps back to the mannequin and knelt in front of it.
Sucking in another breath, she placed the shoes on the stiff and
lifeless feet. Shoes that cost way more than when they were made.
Her
skin prickled. Ian was watching her progress or just watching her. In
order to get through the ordeal and keep her hands steady, she told
herself it was in a professional way. Professional curiosity. He just
wanted to see how someone else in their field used ingrained
techniques to dress inanimate objects with priceless and
irreplaceable pieces of history.
He
was not
watching her because she was practically kneeling at his feet and he
liked her in that position. Her kneeling would feed his desire to see
her bend on his command. Ian wouldn't get off on the feeling of
authority or power, but in her supplication. Nothing drove him over
the edge faster than when she gave him permission to let go and do
what he wanted. The whole exploration in his bedroom was about her
and he never let her forget it.
Even
though she told herself not to think about it, because fanning the
flames only made the heat building at her core hotter, Jocelyn's
imagination snagged on how she wanted him to do things she hadn't
thought of yet. She was wet, already from the flirting with the
thought of him being aroused. None of this would be an issue if he'd
kept that tone under lock and key while they were at work. She
finished dressing the shoes on the model, braced herself and stood to
face him.
Damn.
****
