But something niggled at her. What if Holt wanted to keep it secret forever?
* * * * *
Jessica woke to the feel of Clay deep inside her. “I was dreaming about a lumberjack doing very naughty things to me,” she murmured.
“You were awake every minute,” Clay insisted.
Jessica glanced at the clock. It was a little after four, plenty of time before Holt arrived to pick Clay up for the drive to the airport. She closed her eyes and shook her head, then she gasped as he hit the sweet spot inside. “No, it was the lumberjack that got me all hot. He wore a red-and-black shirt, and he had huge muscles.”
“Were you in the woods?” Clay asked, stroking deep. He loved detail, whether it was made up or something she’d actually done.
“He’d just cut down a big tree, and he did me right there on the stump.” She’d been dreaming, incorporating whatever Clay had been doing to her right into the dream.
“Fuck,” he said, driving into her, riding her G-spot. “Wanna see Vince while I’m gone?”
Clay was more than enough, but it made him so damn hot to make love to her while she had phone sex with Vince. She knew his fondest wish was to lick another man’s come off her when she got home. She moaned, imagining his tongue on all her intimate places. “This time you’d be the one having phone sex while he was fucking me.”
“Hell, yes.” He bit her neck lightly, like an animal claiming its mate. “Or you could lie and just tell me you did it, if that’s what you want.”
Clay never forced her to do anything. He was perfectly happy if she made up a story. And she’d made up some doozies in the past.
She grabbed his face, held him still. “What if I really did it?” she whispered. She’d come to Clay after she’d been with Vince, but that was before she was truly with Clay, before she’d slept in his bed, woken up in his arms. Before she loved him with every bone in her body.
His gaze roamed her face, down to her lips, back to her eyes. Inside her, his cock flexed, and he felt impossibly hard. “Christ, Jessica, you’re such a tease.”
She knew what he meant. He wanted it badly. But he didn’t want to force her to do something she wasn’t comfortable with. When she’d first learned about his kinky desires—wanting his woman to be with other men—she’d thought it meant he couldn’t possibly care for her, and certainly not love her. But Clay was built differently from other men. The idea of her with someone else made him absolutely wild. She had a feeling it was something to do with showing other men that no matter what they did to her, she would always come back to him and he would always be the best. They’d talked about moving in together; they’d talked of marriage. Now she thought about giving him the gift he wanted so badly.
“I mean it,” she said softly. It was a crazy notion that had grown on her. “I’ve even had a fantasy or two of testing it out with other men, not just Vince.”
“Fuck.” The one word said it all, how badly he wanted it, how wild it made him. He pulled out, crawled down her body to lie between her spread legs.
“Like that hot guy I met at the Marriott bar,” she went on, “while I was trying to entice you. What was his name? Mitch. Yeah. How would you like me to do Mitch?” Not that she knew how to find the man. But Clay went crazy, just the way she wanted him to, licking, sucking, fingers inside her, driving her to the very edge.
She panted, gasping between words. “I’d...fuck him...make him come on me...make you lick it all off.”
Then there were no more words as she hit the pinnacle and soared off into blue sky, crying out his name, her body trembling. She wasn’t even aware of him climbing back up her body and fitting himself inside her again. He was just there, as he’d been the moment she’d awoken.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth, her juices still fresh on his lips.
She believed him with all her heart. “I love you,” she answered.
“You don’t have to do it just for me.” Vince, the other men, that’s what he meant.
“I’m going to do it for us.” She’d figured out that it didn’t make him want her or love her less. Instead, it was some sort of affirmation for him. She’d given up her job for him, though the one she was moving to would probably prove to be just as good. Then she could have both, Clay and her career. She’d never thought it possible, never dreamed it. “In fact, I might do something naughty right before your plane gets in.” She nipped his chin. “Then you’ll have to do me right there in the parking garage.” Oh yeah, that would be hot.
He smiled. “Holt’s ordered a car to pick us up.”
“Tell him you’ll find your own ride home,” she whispered.
“Baby, you make me crazy.”
She would always try. And she had no doubt that he would always be there when she came home to him. “Now, why don’t you finish what you started, darling, and fuck me?”
“Hell, yeah.”
This time he made her see fireworks.
Chapter Fourteen
“What do you mean we have to pick up Clay on the way?” Ruby stood before him, hands militantly on her hips.
She’d been acting a little strangely this morning, though Holt couldn’t put his finger on why. She just seemed...off. Women could sometimes be a mystery. But when he said they were taking Clay to the airport, too, she’d gone ballistic.
“It’s only logical. There’s no point in using twice as much gas.”
“But we have to go backward.” She practically spat the word at him. “Down to Palo Alto, then back to SFO.”
True, but Holt had a specific plan to execute. He wanted to test how Ruby responded when she was with him in front of other men, especially Clay, since they’d split so recently. He couldn’t do that at work. Everything he and Ruby did was in secret, but how would she feel once it was revealed? After all, she was screwing the boss, and that was one line Ruby had never crossed. She’d crossed it now, but if they were to have anything else between them, then he had to gauge her reaction to being seen with him, really with him. Clay was the best choice for that. Sure, he could have used Cassandra as a test case, since she was coming this weekend, but somehow that was completely different. His daughter had no stake in whether or not he had a relationship with Ruby. Besides, when he introduced Ruby to his daughter as more than the secretary Cassandra had always known her as, he wanted his relationship with Ruby to be well established.
First, though, Ruby had to learn this wasn’t going to be short-term.
He was going to have to play a little hardball with her. “You will do as I say, pick up Clay, then we’ll drive to the airport. And no back talk.”
“Why can’t Jessica do it?” She gave the name a syrupy snarl.
Ah, that was the problem. She was steamed about Jessica Murphy. And the odds were that Jessica would be at Clay’s house.
“I don’t want her beside me,” he stated flatly. “I want you.”
She huffed and puffed, then finally glared at him and said, “Fine. But you can carry your own bags out to the car. I’m not a bell boy.” She flung open the door and stalked down the path to the drive, waiting there for him to beep the car remote.
Holt had to laugh. His sweet little Ruby had never been like this with him when she was just his secretary. The woman was a handful, but he knew how to make her purr. In the meantime, he juggled his golf bag, roller case, and suit carrier to the car. While traveling, he preferred jeans and would change into his suit when the conference got officially underway.
After stowing his gear in the back, he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, then put his hand on her knee. Her fingers twitched, as if she might throw him off. “Don’t,” he warned. “I’ll touch you when I please. You’re with me now, Ruby, not Clay. And if you’ve got a problem with that, then we need to rethink your rules.”
She pursed her lips and stared ahead. Holt massaged her knee, moving higher, sliding up under the skirt to the top of her thigh-highs, and beyond. Her sexual aroma wafted through
the car, and when he finally touched her pussy, she was wet. “This is mine,” he whispered.
Ruby swallowed. Then she said, “Whatever.” The withering effect was lost when her voice broke slightly.
Holt backed off and started the engine. “If you want, you can drive the car while I’m gone.” In the past, she’d often driven him to the airport, though not for an early morning flight. She’d also taken the car in for servicing and the like while he was gone, so seeing her behind the wheel wouldn’t appear unusual to anyone at work.
“I’ll drop it off and pick up mine from your place,” she snapped. “Unless you need me as your taxi service home from the airport as well,” she drawled sarcastically.
He was starting to dislike the fact that Jessica Murphy was playing on Ruby’s mind like this, causing her inner bitch to scratch its way out. Ruby hadn’t been in love with Clay, but Holt realized there was still strong emotion there. Perhaps he’d misjudged the full effect of the breakup and was pushing to confront the issue far too soon.
The car was uncomfortably silent as they left his house behind, the echo of her pissy attitude remaining. After a few twists and turns, he pulled onto the freeway. At this early hour, the lanes were fairly empty.
Ruby shifted in her seat. “Sorry. I’m being a bitch for no good reason.”
The issue was that she didn’t want to admit the reason. But at least she was starting to see sense. “Apology accepted.” He was well aware that Ruby usually expected apologies rather than make them. Which meant she’d made another step forward.
Then she leaned close, blew in his ear, and whispered, “Touch me again.” It was almost like a peace offering. Without giving him a chance to make up his own mind, she grabbed his hand, leading him beneath her skirt. She was hot, slippery, wet, and luscious.
And she was Ruby, getting what she wanted by using her greatest asset: sex. Holt wasn’t above using the very same thing to get what he wanted. In many ways, they were two of a kind.
* * * * *
Holt toyed with the bead of her clit. Ruby spread her legs a little wider, giving him better access. “Don’t have an accident,” she warned lightly.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you put my hand between your legs,” he drawled, but he didn’t stop.
She laid her head back against the seat. He was so good, that slow, steady rhythm, and perfect driving, too. “Yum,” she whispered.
“You’re insatiable,” he replied.
Headlights whizzed by on the opposite side of the freeway. On the right were the facades of great buildings, many of them sporting lease signs. With many companies going under after the economic crunch, there was a lot of empty space. Ruby closed her eyes, moaned, put her hand over Holt’s, and pressed him harder against her. “If I’m not allowed to touch myself while you’re gone, you have to at least give me one last orgasm.”
“Only two exits left,” he said. “You better come quick.”
He reminded her where they were going and what they would probably find at Clay’s house: Jessica. First, Holt hadn’t wanted her to have dinner with his daughter; now he expected her to pick Clay up at the house she’d lived in until a few short weeks ago. If Little Miss Muffet’s car was there...
“Don’t tense up on me now, baby.”
His voice, so far away, but his fingers so close, so good. He was right; she wouldn’t let Clay and Jessica ruin the high. That’s why she’d stopped fighting Holt. She didn’t want to be a whiny bitch. She didn’t want to waste the last fifteen minutes they had alone.
“Make me come, Holt, make me come,” she said, her words a chant. She helped him rub and caress, directing his touch where she wanted it most. “I have needs”–she gasped, oh yes—“five whole days without sex.” She was almost unaware when he withdrew his hand to make the exit off the freeway.
“Don’t stop, baby. I want to hear you come. It’s your last chance.”
She knew he watched even as he drove. She wanted this, to have sex with him in the car. Clay would smell it; he’d know. Her body started to quake with the first tremors of climax.
“That’s it, baby. You’re with me now.” Holt’s voice pushed her closer to the edge. “Everything is about me, no one else.”
Ruby arched into her fingers, rotated her hips, doubled the friction. The orgasm splintered through her. She cried out, tossed her head, and rode the wave, while Holt whispered to her, talking her through the high.
Then the car pulled to a stop.
“Give me your hand,” he ordered.
She let him bring her fingers to his lips. He drew one digit all the way in, licked it clean. Then another.
“You taste good,” he whispered.
Opening her eyes, she gazed at Clay’s house. Lights were on. Holt kept sucking, driving her mad with the need for more. Jessica’s car sat in the drive, but with her fingers in Holt’s mouth, Ruby didn’t care.
The front door opened, and Clay jogged down the path with a golf bag over his shoulder, suitcase in one hand, computer case in the other. Rather than the comfortable pair of jeans that Holt wore to travel in, Clay had dressed in his suit. Despite everything that had happened, she acknowledged that he was a fine figure of a man. She wondered if he knew she was going with them to the airport. She wondered if he could see the way Holt touched her.
“Straighten your skirt, Ruby.” Holt was CEO again, her boss, his voice flat as he popped the trunk lid. Then he got out to help Clay stow his gear.
You’re with me now. This is mine.
She’d never felt so completely taken over by a man. She’d always maintained her autonomy; no one owned Ruby Williams. She didn’t know why Holt was different, whether it was simply his mastery or his magnetism, but she wanted to be owned by him.
Yet she’d almost messed it up by getting upset about Jessica Murphy.
The trunk lid slammed. Ruby steeled herself, but when Clay climbed into the backseat behind her, he said, “Thanks for taking us to the airport, Ruby.” There wasn’t a single note in his voice through which she could discern whether he’d known about the arrangement or not.
She turned in the seat to say, “You’re welcome, but Holt’s doing the driving.”
“You had to get up early to bring the car back. And I know how you feel about getting up early.”
They sounded excessively polite, but that last comment could have been a subtle dig. She wondered if he’d left Jessica asleep in his bed—in what used to be Ruby’s bed. Then she looked at Holt in profile as he headed back out to the freeway. He was such a handsome man, a perfect specimen. And he was right: she was with him now, not Clay. She had to let go of her animosity. The fact was that Jessica hadn’t stolen Clay; Ruby had lost him through her own stupidity. She wasn’t going to let it happen with Holt.
As Holt drove, the two men chattered like CEOs and CFOs—or magpies. The goal of the investors’ conference was to test the level of interest if West Coast decided to go out with another public offering. You didn’t just dump a bunch of stock on the market—especially in this economy—without knowing how it would be received. If not planned properly, it could dilute the value of the stock, in addition to failing to obtain the kind of money you wanted out of it. Of course, Holt and Clay were much more technical, but that was the gist. With that in mind, Spencer Benedict, vice president of Marketing and Sales, and Ward Restin, R&D VP, would also be attending. Restin would talk about the new products they were introducing this year.
She drank in everything they said. That’s how she learned, how she made herself more valuable to Holt. She was more than just a secretary. She was an executive assistant in the truest sense of the word. She knew where everything was and everything that went on, including gossip, because sometimes a CEO needed to know what was being bandied about.
Previously, he’d needed her in the office. Now he needed her everywhere. She wanted it to stay that way.
Without much traffic, they practically flew to the airport.
Standing by the trunk, Holt surveyed the baggage on the sidewalk. It was a hell of a lot for just three days. And men complained that women couldn’t travel light.
“Where’s my computer?” he said to no one in particular.
The trunk was empty, and laptop case wasn’t inside the car. Ruby remembered her snarky little comment as they left the house. You can carry your own bags.
“Shit,” he said mildly. “Ruby, can you have Ward or Spence stop at the house on the way to the airport and pick it up for me?”
The other two VPs were traveling separately. The company had a rule that no more than two executives could travel on the same flight. If, God forbid, the plane went down, the management team wouldn’t be decimated.
“Sure.” She felt guilty without Holt having to say a word. She’d been bitching at him; that’s why he’d forgotten the computer. “You didn’t have your boarding pass in there?”
Holt patted his jacket pocket. “No, it’s here.” He smiled. “Thank you for worrying, dear.”
Ruby glanced at Clay, but he was already throwing his golf bag over his shoulder and pulling out the handle on his case.
Then Holt did the strangest thing. He slid one arm around Ruby’s waist and hauled her up against his chest.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. Clay would see. But then he already knew because Holt had asked permission.
“I’m kissing you good-bye because I won’t see you until Monday. Five days.”
Submitting to the Boss: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 2 Page 10
