Corporate Cowboy

by Bella Masters

  His chair screeches behind me. “Ms. Lavender. Stop.”

  I did. Abruptly. Crap. Why did I do that?

  “Turn around.”

  I whirl back, glaring at him. Who in the hell does he think he is? It’s like I have no control over my own actions. Whatever he says, I do it.

  “You got the job, Ms. Lavender. Either I, or someone from my staff, will be in touch Monday morning to go over the details. Have a good weekend.”

  I stand there, dumbfounded, my mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Job? What? I am so confused!

  “You may go now, Ms. Lavender.”

  I open my mouth to question him.

  “Now, Ms. Lavender. Unless you would like for me to fuck you now.”

  My legs are leaden. Glued to the floor. “Fuck me now?” Did those words come out of my mouth?

  With a determined stroll, Gage Parker rounds his desk and takes step, after agonizing step, toward me. With each inch he comes nearer, my body heats up. My cheeks burn.

  He stands square in front of me, looking down. His dark eyes pierce mine, my soul. My heart? The intensity of his stare hooks into some primal need inside me, curling around until it tickles and tugs at my most feminine parts—the parts that make me a woman.

  My pussy aches to be touched. I want to tell him that. Should I? I don’t use words like that…but I want to. I want to tell him to take my pussy and shove his cock up inside me.

  “Ms. Lavender. You really do know why you are here, don’t you?”

  Slowly, I nod. “I’m here for you to fuck me. Sir.”

  He grins, and something about the widening of his mouth makes me shiver with delight. Sensations never before felt zing lower into my belly and between my thighs. He stares, and I feel myself becoming moist between my legs

  “Like it is your only purpose in life,” he says, and my knees buckle.

  Mr. Parker catches me up and carries me to the desk. Before I can protest or squeal with delight, he bends me over it and flips my skirt up over my ass. With one flick, my panties are at my ankles and the palm of his large hand is smoothing over my right cheek, thumbing my crack.

  A shudder of desire races through me.

  “You do know what you are doing here, correct Ms. Lavender?”

  I look back into his face, then drop my gaze and watch him slowly lower his zipper.

  “Ms. Lavender?”

  I nod. “Fuck me, Mr. Parker. I need to be fucked.”

  The hand on my ass smacks me. Hard! I shriek a little and hear him groan behind me. His belt buckle jiggles as it hits the floor and the tension inside of me builds to a pop when he….

  I bolt straight up in my bed. Sound. From where?

  Oh. House phone. Ringing. What?

  Breathless, I grab it off the stand. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Lavender, do you have any idea how long it took me to find your landline phone number?”

  My brain is mush. Dream. “What?”

  “Your landline. Emma, when you work in management, you are at my disposal 24/7. Do you understand?”

  I huff out a breath. “Yes. Yes.” Did he call me Emma?

  “Turn your damn cell phone on. Now.”

  Then he hangs up. Exhausted and confused, I plop back on my pillows. What the hell had just happened here?

  Phone. I lean up on an elbow and fish for it under my pillows, and then turn on the power. I check the time and realize I’ve slept over two hours—and that twenty-nine text messages came in within those two hours, all of them from Gage Parker.

  Plus, three voice mails.

  Again, I flip over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The dream comes crashing down, and my entire body jerks.

  His hand on my ass. Telling him to fuck me. My breathing is coming hard and furious. I suddenly want to play with myself until I come. Hard.

  “Crickets. What am I getting myself in to?”

  The phone rings in my hand.

  “Crap.” It is him. I answer it. “Yes, Mr. Parker.”

  “Read your text messages and listen to your voice mails. We have a staff meeting at eight o’clock in the morning in my office. Be prepared.”

  He clicks off again. I shake my head, still in a tizzy.

  ****

  I dress as conservatively as possible, given the wardrobe I brought with me from Charlotte. But no matter, I’ll be heading back home soon. What I have on today is actually perfect.

  A white blouse, buttoned up. No cleavage. A dark, navy jacket and slacks. Matching pumps, conservative heels.

  I pull my hair into a low ponytail and ditch the contacts, jewelry, and makeup for the day. As I pull into a parking space at the hotel, I check my reflection in the rearview mirror and straighten my horn-rimmed glasses.

  Okay.

  What did he expect for a Sunday morning? This is not a workday for me. He’s not getting the benefit of any extra effort.

  Besides, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Right?

  I pull my bag off the seat, lock the car and move toward the hotel lobby, head held high. I am going into this meeting with only my limited knowledge of the company, the contents of a few text messages and voice mails, one week’s work under my belt, and pure instinct.

  This will be interesting.

  Why in the world I bother, I don’t know. Perhaps if things go south, it will be the perfect time to give my resignation and get out of here.

  The doors to the lobby swish open, and I head for the elevator behind the front desk. I notice a few guests milling about, getting coffee, looking for a newspaper, perhaps. I glance at the desk and notice James and a girl named Connie staffing it. He whispers something to her, and they both watch me walk past. His eyes follow me all the way to the elevator. I can feel it.

  I push the button for the twenty-second floor and twist back to look at him full-on.

  He sneers.

  I shrug and stick out my tongue.

  The elevator dings and opens behind me, and I watch James’s gaze widen and then narrow. I step inside without a backward glance and turn to face the doors. “Go tattle on me for that, James from New York,” I mumble.

  Looking up, I watch the numbers rise. Four. Five. What will I find at the top? Nine. Ten. Eleven. Am I ready for this? Fifteen.

  The elevator rattles to a stop. I stare at the number.

  “Hello, Emma.”

  I whirl. “Wh—What are you doing here?” My hand flies to my thumping heart.

  Gage Parker steps out of the shadows of the deep elevator and smiles. He is dressed casually today, denim jeans and boots, a western-cut pale blue shirt, topped with a black leather sports jacket. I catch my breath. My backside hits the door behind me.

  “I work here, as do you. Remember, Emma?”

  Emma. When did it change from Ms. Lavender to Emma?

  “Of course. I thought the elevator was empty.”

  He chuckles. “Obviously. Do you routinely stick your tongue out at colleagues or only at James from New York? I’ve noticed you two seem to share a distaste for each other.” He moves closer. His briefcase is in his right hand. Work, I suppose.

  “That was childish,” I return, “And regrettable, although he deserves it.”

  “I enjoyed it, actually. Your tongue intrigues me.” He leans in. The scent of his aftershave lures me. “Would you do it again? For me? Only this time, make it a little more seductive.”

  I hold his gaze. “Don’t you think we should be checking on what is holding this elevator up? We have a meeting to get to.”

  “All of the important people are here, Emma.”

  “I think you are highly inappropriate, Mr. Parker.” I put my hands up to push him back a little. “Please scoot—”

  The briefcase drops. He catches my hands. “Emma. Relax.”

  Slowly, he pushes back and lifts my hands over my head, crowding me up against the elevator door. He reaches for my glasses and slips them into his jacket pocket. A sudden contradictory feeling as if I should not be letting hi
m touch me, let alone put me in this compromising position, coupled with the curious sexual thrill snaking up my body… His stare penetrates not only my eyes, but also something deeper. I swallow. “Mr. Parker…”

  “Gage. Unless I tell you to call me Sir.”

  I close my eyes and exhale. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, and you are scaring me. I’m not sure whether I should scream or—”

  “Or what, Emma.” His breath wafts over my face. Hot. Moist. Something flutters in my belly.

  I open my eyes. “Or…”

  His lips bear down on mine. My mouth is open. He angles across my lips, and my chest expands against his. He flattens himself against me and tightens his grip on my wrists. I am wide open, my hands pinned above my head and my body flush with his.

  He probes, and like a traitor to my own convictions, I moan with pleasure as his searching, darting tongue mingles with mine.

  His lips sucking, capturing…

  I curl my fingers downward around his hands. He shifts and growls deep in his throat. “My God.” He bursts backward and hisses the words. Then he releases my wrists, his hands moving to my face, holding me very still. He kisses me again. Raking his mouth over mine, his bite is firm and intentional, trailing down my neck.

  I pant. “Mr. Parker. Gage. Sir.” I don’t know what I am saying. “Stop.”

  He halts and exhales, long.

  For the lengthiest moment, we remain, standing in the elevator, with only the awkward cadence of our erratic breathing filling the space. He rests his forehead against my shoulder. My arms slowly slide down to my side.

  “Thank you.”

  He pushes back and stands upright. He looks at me with those dark, lancing eyes, takes another deep breath and lets it out. “All right.”

  I cannot look away. I am captivated by him and how he just made me feel. Something shifted between us those past few minutes. Perhaps something shifted in me. I no longer want to push him away. I want him closer. My chest longs to press against him again, feeling his heart beat unsteadily next to mine. Frightened and intrigued, I want to run away, and into his arms, in the same moment.

  “The elevator. How?” My speech is incoherent.

  Gage picks up his briefcase and with that one motion, pulls himself together. I, on the other hand, am a reckless mess. He still has not taken his eyes from mine.

  “Emma,” he begins softly. “Do you know what it means to be submissive?”

  I’m speechless. “I… I do. I think.” Suddenly I feel a little embarrassed and unsure of myself.

  He nods and steps back. “Hm. I see.”

  We stand, gazes locked, for several long seconds. Then Gage says, “Emma, I will start the elevator in a moment, and it will take us to the twenty-second floor. The only meeting today is between you and me, and it is not a matter of hotel business. It is a matter of business between us. Personal.”

  He pauses, searching my face.

  “You want to make arrangements to fuck me.”

  One corner of his mouth jerks into a grin. “Yes.”

  “And what makes you think that is what I want?”

  The corner jerks higher. “Emma, it’s written all over your face.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think, Emma. Just react. Life is more fun that way.”

  “What exactly is it that you want, Gage?”

  “I will explain that in detail once we get to my office.”

  “Why can’t you do it now?”

  “Because I don’t conduct business in elevators, Ms. Lavender.”

  “Do you fuck in elevators?”

  He stares into my eyes. “Sometimes.”

  “Oh.”

  He steps closer. “Emma, I’m going to push that button now, and you have a choice. It is entirely up to you. When we get to the twenty-second floor, I am getting off. You can get off with me and we can discuss next steps, or you can stay on the elevator and go home. The choice is yours.”

  “And if I choose to go home?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. I’ll leave you alone.”

  I sense that is far from the truth. He will not leave me alone. “Truly?”

  “Of course.”

  “And if I choose to follow?”

  He moves closer, his gaze probing, his breathing quick, in and then out. “Then you choose to give yourself up to me for a short time. There will be terms. Do you understand what I am saying, Emma?”

  I don’t, entirely. But I understand enough.

  Then you choose to give yourself up to me. There will be terms.

  Fifty Shades? I’d read the book, seen the movie. Who hadn’t?

  I lift my chin, not entirely sure why I am going to say this next word, but I know I am going to say it. “Yes.”

  He holds my gaze for a moment then reaches over to the panel and hits a button. The elevator shimmies and rises.

  Gage steps back and straightens his jacket. Suddenly, I am aware of how disheveled I feel. I glance down and smooth my clothing, and then pick up my bag from the floor. I don’t remember dropping it.

  “My glasses.”

  Gage reaches into his jacket pocket and hands them to me. I fumble and push them back on my nose.

  I face the door. Give him my back. Watch the numbers. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

  The doors swoosh open.

  Gage sidles past me and walks into the lavish lobby. I watch him and listen to the heels of his boots echo on the hard, polished floors, as he moves into the depths of the empty space. He doesn’t look back to see if I follow.

  The elevator doors start to close.

  I must decide. My sex life so far has been average. In some ways, far less than satisfying. What if this is the one chance I’ll have to experience something different? Something more?

  You will give yourself up to me for a short time.

  Do you know what it means to be submissive?

  I put my hand out to stop the elevator doors and step into the lobby. I am about to find out.

  Chapter Four

  Gage knew by the time he and Cole had finished their breakfast on Saturday that a weekend of castrating calves was not going to hold his attention for long. They’d not even finished breakfast when his brain drifted to thoughts of taking Emma.

  Before he’d left the house, he’d called and texted way too many times.

  Later, when she finally picked up, her sleep-softened voice made his cock ache—but the seductive lure also tempered his anger at her not being readily available. He tried to be rational but found himself impatient. Already the stirrings of what he needed from her, what he wanted from her, to do to her, and for her to do to him, were roiling inside.

  Of course, his impatience was unwarranted—she didn’t belong to him. She had no idea he wanted to possess her. And their employer/employee relationship had not yet been established.

  Still, he was irritated at her avoidance. And that’s what it was—avoidance. She’d ignored him by turning off her phone.

  Dammit. The longer the day wore on, he realized possession was exactly what he wanted—to possess her mind, body and soul. That notion ate at him like battery acid. He only wanted to possess women for a weekend. He was a short-term guy. Nothing permanent, ever. But Emma was different, and that notion surprised—and frightened—the hell out of him.

  Perhaps it was simply the notion that she was the kind of woman who required permanence, which in and of itself, should send him screaming for the hills.

  Of course, that kind of women was not what he needed. Or wanted.

  All the more reason to back off.

  And all the more reason why hands-off was appealing.

  But she was crowding his space, assaulting his mind. So, while cutting and wrestling calves, his body getting the physical workout he needed and his muscles screaming with pain, he resorted to ticking off in his head everything he wanted to do to Miss Emma Lavender.

  First, he’d fuck her, plain and simple, and he’d
take his good time doing it. He’d show her the power of his body, the pleasure he could provide and the physical joy of being with a man who knew what he could provide—he’d fuck her until both of them were sated and until neither could lift a finger off the bed.

  Step one. And just the beginning.

  As he roped calves and tied their feet, he imagined slipping silk cords around Emma’s delicate ankles and threading those cords between her legs and around her body. He would secure her wrists and ankles so that she couldn’t move, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in ways she’d likely never experienced before. He’d show her she was there simply for the fucking.

  His fucking.

  He pictured her in his bed, spread-eagle, the silken ropes lassoed on each hand and foot, firmly secured to each of the four posters.

  He imagined her arms above her head, wrists bound together, and hanging from the eyehook embedded in the tack room beam, her toes barely touching the ground. His mind flashed to her sprawled over his spanking bench, her ass high in the air, her red cheeks quivering and waiting for his hand. He pondered whether she would prefer leather to his palm….

  He wanted her hard and fast, down and dirty. He wanted her long, slow, and deliberate—each move calculated for maximum pleasure. He wanted to fuck out the come-fuck-me contradiction in her sweet, pretty pink lips, and longed to hear her scream and curse his name with intense orgasmic pleasure.

  And then beg for more.

  Hell, he wanted her now.

  Gage shook off the thought as one of the ranch hands yelled. A calf shot up off the ground, and he twisted to tackle it as the young bull leapt his way. Cole jumped to his side, and they struggled and then held the calf down until he was cut and branded.

  As the iron seared into the hair and hide of the animal, marking it with the BF ranch brand and clearly showing that this particular calf belonged to him, he held a foreign and captivating notion in his head that he wanted to do the same to Emma.

  Not physically brand her, of course. He would never do that. He wouldn’t intentionally cause injury to any woman. Women were to be respected. But the crazy notion of possessing her, and somehow marking her as his, hit him unexpectedly in the pit of his gut.