Cole stared back. “You weren’t talking about the bull, were you.”
Gage didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.
****
Now, twenty-four hours later, Gage strolled into his office, leaving the doors open behind him. He stepped to his desk and laid his briefcase to the side, turning to stare out the window at the mountains. The window glass was due for a cleaning. He’d get Chad on that first thing in the morning. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was a window he couldn’t see clearly out of.
Or that someone could not see clearly into.
The office was twenty-two floors up, and the likelihood that anyone could see in was nil—unless one owned binoculars or a telescope and lived on the mountain or in a nearby condo. And because of that distinct possibility, he liked the glass to be sparkling clean.
If anyone were to observe his behind-closed-doors escapades, he wanted them to see vividly how he could thoroughly please a woman—not to mention, himself.
Yes, one could add public sex displays to his list of depraved sexual deviancy. He liked to be watched—and for his sub to be watched. He was a showman, after all. And showmen loved the limelight.
Gage avoided looking at the door. He itched to learn if Emma had followed him, but he would not give in to searching for her. He would wait to see if she presented herself. This was her decision, without any further coercion from him. So, he sat behind the desk and opened his briefcase, taking out a folder.
Another stack of papers lay on his desk, slightly to his right, and he glanced to the title page. There were three words printed on the page, approximately one-third of the way down: Emma Lavender. And then underneath: Confidential. Chad had already been in and prepared his report. He’d trained that young man well.
Chad was a sub but not to him. At least not in a sexual way. Chad was gay, and Gage was not about same-sex relationships. But Chad’s tendency toward submissiveness was a plus for their working relationship. In fact, Gage supported and coached Chad on more than one occasion on the art of being submissive in a sexual relationship. Grateful, Chad paid back the favor with his loyalty.
Some men had office wives. Gage had an office sub.
It worked for them.
He lifted the paper-clipped stack of papers and slid them into the back of the folder, now open on his desk. He glanced down to the agreement sitting on top.
“Ahem.”
Gage looked up. Emma stood before him. His cock jumped.
Inwardly, he smiled. Pleased.
His outward appearance, he knew, was stoic. Unmoving.
Time to get down to business.
****
“I got off the elevator,” she said.
He nodded. “I see that, Emma. Do you know why you are here?”
Her head tilted upward, slightly. “I do.”
Gage leaned into his desk and closed his eyes, briefly. Upon opening them, he noticed she had not moved. “I’m not sure that you do. Please sit, Emma”
She settled into the desk chair opposite him. “Try me.”
Don’t taunt me, Emma. “Is that a challenge? Because I’m not about challenges. I’m about sure things.” He paused and watched her swallow, the muscles in her neck squeezing and moving in and out. “Are you a sure thing, Emma?”
Her eyes darted back and forth. “Yes,” she said softly.
“I can’t hear you. Emma, when you speak to me, speak without hesitation. I will ask again. Are you a sure thing?”
She inhaled and huffed out a breath. “I… I said ‘yes.’”
Gage stood and shook his head, watching her face. “No.”
Her gaze, still wrapped up in his, held a moment of panic. “No?” she questioned, and stood.
Dammit, he was not going to let her flee again.
In a few short strides, he rounded the desk, placed his hands on either of her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “No, Emma. You hesitated. I’ll not move forward until I know for certain that you are ready to give up control to me.”
He watched those words play over her face. Fucking was one thing. Giving up control was something else.
But she didn’t address the control issue. She said, “How can I tell you I am ready if you don’t tell me the expectations?”
“That’s for further discussion.”
Emma shrugged out of his grasp and planted herself in the straight-back leather chair in front of his desk. His hands fell to his sides. “I am ready,” she said, and then cocked her chin up, almost as if in defiance. “Spill it.”
He should spank her ass.
Gage narrowed his gaze and stared. She didn’t flinch. Held his glare, tit-for-tat.
“All right then.” He doubted she was ready. In fact, he knew she was not. Perhaps he’d been crazy to think otherwise. But he backed up and moved round the desk toward his chair, talking all the while. “There are things you need to know, Emma. There is a process to be carried out.” He reached for her folder and rifled through a few papers. “A contract to be understood and signed, a nondisclosure agreement. We’ll need to get that notarized. You’ve already been vetted by my staff and…”
Emma stood again. Gage glanced up. “Are you going to keep bouncing up and down? Sit, Emma!”
She didn’t. “I thought you just wanted to fuck me. This sounds like a business deal.”
“Fucking is business, Emma. At least with me.”
“But an NDA?”
“Of course. It protects us both.”
She stared, her chest lifting and falling. “It sounds so cold.”
You have no idea. “And your point is?”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“There you go again. See? You are not ready.”
She shook herself. “Yes. I am. I am fine.”
“Prove it.”
She blew out a breath. “Let me see the damn contract.”
“Get on your knees, Emma, and ask for my forgiveness.”
Her face turned into a puzzle. “What?”
“Get on your knees,” Gage repeated, “and ask for my forgiveness.”
“Why?”
“For arguing with me. If we are to move forward, you are to understand that what I say goes. I am telling you, you are not ready. You are arguing with me. That is not permitted.”
Emma stared, and Gage could see the gears grinding in her head.
“On your knees, Emma.”
Chapter Five
I hold Gage’s intense gaze and then gradually, as if his eyes are willing me to do so, sink to my knees in front of his desk.
He slowly makes his way around the desk and stops in front of me. I look up at him.
“Lower your eyes and ask for my forgiveness.”
I shift my gaze to his boots. My lips are dry. Shit.
“Emma,” he warns.
Okay, I’ll do this. “I ask for your forgiveness.”
“Sir.”
Oh. “I ask for your forgiveness, Sir.”
“For what, Emma?”
My brain is swimming. “I ask for your forgiveness, Sir, for arguing with you. I will not let it happen again.”
Silence. I want to move. I sit and wait for what seems an eternity.
“Why should you not argue with me, Emma? What is the lesson you have learned?”
Crap. What lesson have I learned? “I’ve learned to speak up.”
“And?”
“Not to hesitate.”
“And?”
“Not to question you when you say I am not ready. Not to argue.”
He sighs. I hope that is a sigh of approval. “Yes. You may get up now, Emma, and sit in the chair.”
He walks away, and I linger a second, gathering my thoughts. The past few minutes have totally played with my head.
“Emma, do not hesitate.”
Shakily, I nod, get up, and sit in the chair. I’m not sure whether to look at him or not.
Instead, I watch him lift a layer of papers from the folder
and push them across his shiny desk. I feel as if my insides have turned on themselves. Nervous, but then I remember. I have walked in here of my own free will. I crossed that threshold, my entire body on high alert—not to mention sexually aware—with the intent to give myself over to him.
“Once you learn the terms, you may back out.”
I am entering into something that will likely change me. Yet, I press on. I want this, for reasons I’m not even sure I want to admit to myself.
Gage’s fingers flick at the pages and I lift my gaze. He told me not to hesitate so I just did it. His stare is infectious and I cannot easily pull myself away. I decide to play his game.
“Sir, may I look at you?”
He nods. “You may.”
“May I also ask a question, Sir?”
He probably wouldn’t admit it, but a hint of a smile flicked across his lips.
“Yes,” he said.
“I don’t understand why there is need for a contract,” I tell him. “Is there something special about the way you fuck?”
A glimmer of something I can only attribute to amusement races across his face. Perhaps it’s the way the corner of his mouth jerks at my words. I’ve noticed this before and find it both endearing and dangerous.
I go on. “Why can’t you just fuck me and be done with it? I mean, since you are into cold and impersonal.”
Gage continues to stare, then says, “Because that’s not the way I do it.”
“Oh, so you do believe in foreplay and romance?”
His eyebrows twitch. “Foreplay, yes, if you want to call it that. But on my terms. Romance?” He laughs. “Not my game, Emma. I’m not a romantic man.”
“Then why all the pomp and circumstance?” I lean into the desk, my hands flat on the cold surface, our gazes interlocked. My voice softens. “There’s no one here, Gage. No one to know. It’s Sunday and the offices are closed. I’m sure you’ve engaged some sort of alarm system to alert you to someone entering. I’m also certain this wouldn’t be the first time you screwed some new girl on your big slick desk.” I look down at the rich cherry wood and run my fingertips across the polished top. Then I jerk my head up to catch his eyes again. “So, forget the paperwork, cowboy, just fuck me now. You know you want to.”
My ankles are shaking. What am I saying? I have never been this bold before about sex. My mouth and brain are in total opposition with each other. No filters! My stomach plunges into my pelvis as Gage stands over the desk, his palms flat on the surface.
“Oh, Emma,” he growls, “you have no idea what I want to do to you right now.”
“Then show me.”
“You have not learned your lesson, have you?”
I sat back. “We’re still in discussion, Gage. I’ve not signed anything and therefore, there will be no more kneeling before you and asking forgiveness. Lessons learned are not a part of this.”
“See there, Emma? You have no clue why you are so wrong.”
“Then show me. Tell me. Fuck me.”
He laughs. “Oh, Emma. You have so much to learn. Is it that you really want me to fuck you, or are you infatuated by the idea of being with a man like me? Hm?” He stands and my gaze lifts with him. “But I’m not fucking you until you’ve read the agreement. Until we have discussed it, and it’s signed.”
My heart beats so fast I fear a heart attack. I hold his stare for as long as I can and think I literally see fire flickering in those black irises. I am not sure why I am challenging him.
“All right.” I pick up the contract and reach for my bag. I shove the document inside and in the same motion, twist away from the desk and stalk off toward the door. “I’ll read this in private,” I say over my shoulder. Not with you glaring at me.
I have probably just breeched all kinds of rules here. So be it.
I reach the office door, but before I can walk through it, Gage races up behind me and slams it shut. My body twists as he turns me around and pushes me against the door.
There. Again. His chest heaving against mine.
His musk and aftershave permeating my senses.
His body heat and sexuality rendering me helpless.
Gage reaches for a deadbolt lock at my elbow. Click.
I drop my bag. Again.
“Not yet, Emma,” he says, his voice a deep, virile purr that sends my insides into a quivering spiral.
Crickets. What have I done? I’ve pushed too far.
“Let me go, Gage,” I tell him. “Let me go and read your damn contract, and then I will tell you if I am ready.”
“You are way out of your league,” he whispers. I realize I probably am.
I watch his eyes. They flick over my face and land on my mouth. Suddenly, I want to run my tongue over my dry lips. And the more he stares, the more parched they become.
“Lick your lips, Emma,” he whispers. “You want to.”
His hands find mine and curl around my wrists. Slowly, he raises them above my head, as he did in the elevator. He stretches my arms up as far as they will go and clamps them to the door. The one button of my jacket pops open. His gaze hasn’t left my mouth.
We both breathe deep. In sync. My breasts crowd his chest. “Show me your tongue, Emma. Lick your lips.”
His stare is intense. I fear I may hyperventilate and faint on the spot. Involuntarily my tongue darts forward, scrapes over my lower lip. I shudder, and his intake of breath startles me. I suck in my lip and clamp them both together.
Gage groans and drops one hand. He grasps my chin, holding my face steady. In one swift and sure movement, his mouth bears down on mine and I gasp at the shockwave the meeting of our flesh creates.
My entire body reacts with the slant of his mouth across mine, discharging an erotic current that races from our fused lips to my groin. Our lips merge, tongues probe. He deepens the kiss, and the hand on my chin moves firmly down my neck and flattens over my chest.
Gage breaks away, pulls back, and then with both hands, grasps the placket of my shirt and tears it open, buttons popping.
“Oh!”
The front clasp of my bra releases as his hands roughly palm my breasts. Another sexual thrill sprints up through me, and I throw my head back against the door. The heat of his lips hits the space between my breasts; his fingers knead and squeeze my nipples.
The pain of his pinch mingles with a frenzy of sensual surges, causing me to gasp in pleasure. “Oh God!”
He lowers, his moist and hot mouth making a path down my abdomen. His fingers fumble with the button and zipper of my slacks and in one swipe, they are at my ankles.
Gage growls and bites me through my panties. I pant, a wicked thrill zipping through me. Then he rips those down, as well.
“Look at me, Emma.”
My breathing is out of control. I pull my head away from the door and look down to see him kneeling before me. My clothes are a mess. He’s still fully clothed.
“Look at me.”
I search his face.
“Do you know what you are getting into, Emma?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Do you want me to continue?”
I peer down into his eyes. “Y-yes.” And I do. Oh, God, I do.
He mumbles something I don’t understand and positions himself at my center. “Lean into the door.”
His tongue penetrates my folds. High-pitched noises squeak from my mouth while his thumbs pull back my lips to allow him deeper access. My legs spread involuntarily, and I am unsure how long I can hold this position. Gage’s mouth bores into me, his tongue probes and tickles, and I feel myself gradually sliding down the door, almost into a squat.
Sensation floods my body and the entire world centers on my clit and the flick of Gage’s tongue. My thighs quiver uncontrollably as an orgasm builds behind that tender nub. My hands clench and unclench; my nails scratch the door. My head tosses back, and I gasp a string of incoherent slurs.
The orgasm rips through my core, and I lose all control. My leg
s collapse and I slide to the floor. His mouth leaves me, and I am lost in a dizzying gyration of sensation and need. My body convulses as the sexual currents roll on.
“I’m not finished, Emma,” Gage says. “Close your eyes.”
He penetrates me with his fingers. One, and then two, I think. His thumb applies pressure to my clit. He probes, opening me up, pistoning deeper and deeper. The pressure of his thumb makes me cry out, and before I know it, a second orgasm screams through my body and all I can do is lie there and let him finger me until I am through.
I am spent. Gage withdraws his fingers as I curl onto my side, my legs closing. After a moment, he rises and picks me up, carrying me to a sofa across the room. For the next few minutes, Gage cradles me on his lap, stroking my hair and face. I’m not sure I have ever felt anything so lovely.
And sensual. Intense.
Frightening.
Dirty.
“There, Emma. Sweet, Emma….”
His voice is softer than before. I raise my head and look into his face. For a blip of a second, I see a softened expression, caring eyes. Then quickly, that expression rips away, replaced with the hard, intense glare.
He stands and puts me on my feet. Steps back. “Fix your clothes and leave,” he says.
I’m left standing there alone as he moves toward his desk. I glance to my ankles and see my ripped panties, my slacks in a puddle. Mindless, I pull them up and fix them about my body. My bra, I am able to pull together and clasp. My blouse has only two buttons left.
I tug the placket together as best I can and then button my jacket hoping it will hold together long enough to get through the hotel lobby and to my car.
I am exhausted with sated pleasure. Riddled with doubt and question.
My clothes fixed, I look up and see Gage sitting behind his desk, staring at the desktop, his head in his hands.
Bastard.
With shaking legs, I move toward the door. Somehow, I make it there without crumpling again, pick up my bag, and unclick the deadbolt.
I say nothing as I exit his office. I know the contract is still in my bag.
I don’t know whether to sign it or burn it.
****
My hands shake the entire way home. I manage to rush through the hotel lobby without anyone at the front desk seeing me, a line of check-ins keeping the staff busy. For that, I am grateful. When I arrive at my apartment building, I purposely leave my bag in the car, along with the contract and my cell phone. I don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to field phone calls and texts. Don’t want to be available 24/7.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 213
