Wet Ride (Toys-4-Us)

by Cayto, Samantha

  Wet Ride

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About the Author

  A Samantha Cayto publication

  www.samanthacayto.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9847919-1-0

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Wet Ride Copyright © 2011 Samantha Cayto

  Cover art by Nicole Austin

  This book printed in the U.S.A. by Samantha Cayto November 2011

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Samantha Cayto.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Wet Ride

  A Toys-4-Us Book

  By

  Samantha Cayto

  Smashwords Edition

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the Sassy 7, of course! Without these wonderful women, I would not have written this story. They prove that no matter how old you are, there is always room in your life for new friends, and that friendship can thrive even when distance keeps you apart.

  Chapter One

  Emily Driscoll's face was going to crack if she kept the inane smile plastered on it a minute longer. She had to, of course. Smiling was the norm down here in Texas. Everybody was nice and polite and friendly even if they didn't really mean it. She supposed it was better than the reserved scowls of the north, although it meant she was never sure where she stood with people. She wasn't having any trouble knowing the thoughts of the man talking to her now, however. Mr. Travis' smile was a condescending one no matter which part of the country he sat his fat ass in. And when a man called a woman “sugar” wearing that kind of smile, well, there was no denying how little he thought of her. She held her tongue until he took a long enough pause in his pontification on how business really worked before jumping in.

  “Mr. Travis,” she inserted in a sweet tone with a steely underline. “My company and I are aware of the long family history of your client's business. However, as important as longevity and reputation are, the core of the story lies in the financials.” She paused a beat before going in for the kill. “Yellow Rose's income statements show a business that is, shall we say, less than robust. My company is still interested in acquiring it, but the purchase price floated a few weeks ago cannot stand. I'm sure you will agree the new offer is fair given the circumstances.”

  She waited as her words sank in. Travis's beady eyes narrowed as he stared back at her. The smile was gone. His client, Eric Horstmann, kept his gaze down on the stylized cowboy hat lying across his lap. She felt sorry for the man. He had tried hard to keep the company started by his grandfather alive and healthy. In the current economic climate, it wasn't surprising he hadn't succeeded. Now her job was to negotiate the best deal for her company. In business someone always won and someone always lost. Today she and her company had won. Her in-house lawyer, Bobby Weld, slouched in the chair next to her sporting a sympathetic expression, although she knew him well enough by now to know he was grinning gleefully inside. Like most business lawyers and business people she worked with, he had the instincts of a shark.

  Emily sighed inwardly. It was late on Monday and she wanted to go home. The week was shaping up to be a long one. Then again, every week was a long one. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. Of course, the three men in the room followed suit. Sometimes the vestiges of chauvinism worked in her favor.

  “Gentlemen, I suggest you take the week to think over my very generous offer. You can contact me next Monday morning with your answer and if it's a go, Bobby will get the documents out to you by Tuesday morning.” It would mean the following week would be particularly long, but what the hell? She had nothing better to do anyway. And wasn't that pathetic?

  Travis gave curt agreement and filed out of the room with his client in tow. Bobby turned to her. “Emily, if I live to be a thousand, I will never understand how someone who looks like my maiden aunt can be such a hard-nosed negotiator.”

  He had meant it as a compliment and Emily decided to take it as one even though she cringed inside. She didn't like looking so prim and proper and she didn't like having to play the killer all the time. It was her job, though. She had picked the career and pursued it with determination. Her reward was being an executive vice president in a large national company at the tender age of thirty-three. Her relocation to San Antonio had come with a big office, an even bigger raise and enormous responsibility. She was in charge of important business deals and playing with the big boys. Their rules insisted she be vicious and take no prisoners. She played her part extremely well. But it wore on her. Sometimes she longed for a chance to relax and let someone else take charge.

  She buried the fantasy as she always did. Never in her life had she found a man she wanted to give up control to. She doubted she ever would. The attractive men she met always struck her as a little too prissy in their personal life to take command. The men she didn’t meet, the kind of guys that worked with their hands and viewed themselves in a more traditional way, scared her frankly. She figured that kind of man would want to dominate her outside of bed as well as in. With a tired smile, she picked up her papers and turned to Bobby.

  “You may as well get started on the documents. Horstmann is wise enough to take the deal. He just needs some time to ease his pride.”

  Bobby gave a two fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  After dumping her work in her office and gathering her briefcase, Emily walked to the elevator bank and prepared for a short night of no sex. Tomorrow would come soon enough and the grind would continue.

  * * * * *

  Emily pulled into the driveway of her new home and nearly rear-ended a paneled truck parked in front of the garage. Slamming on the brakes, she leaned forward to stare out of the windshield at the intruding vehicle. It clearly belonged to a workman of some sort. She strained her memory to figure out what was going on. Then she remembered. Her decorator, Sue, had said the contractor hired to redo her master bathroom was scheduled to start work today. Not that she had met the man. She had hired Sue to sketch out plans for the renovations, help her pick tile and fixtures and hire the best person for the job. With her work schedule as hectic as it was, Emily had no time to see to the details herself. Better to pay someone else to do it. She turned off the engine and lugged her briefcase out of the car.

  As she walked to the front door, she saw the side of the truck said “Brandt and Son, General Contractors.” She hefted her bag higher on her shoulder and rolled her eyes as she opened the front door. She figured she was in for a whole lot of country music and butt cracks for the next few days. She called out as soon as she entered the spacious ranch house she had bought.

  “Hello?” It felt funny warning someone she was coming into her own home, but she could hear the sounds coming from the back where her bedroom and bath were located. The last thing she wanted to do was startle Mr. Brandt or his son into shooting a nail through his hand.

  “Hello, I’m home!” she called again and dumping her bag in the living room, continued down the hall. She walked through the bedroom and poked her head into the doorway of her so
on to be new master bath. Already the expanded room had been roughed out. She could see where the double sinks and counter were going in. Beyond that was the space where her super colossal shower would be encased in wavy glass. With Sue’s help, she was creating her own personal grotto, a refuge from the rat race she lived and worked in. The thought of standing between the multi-headed jet panels, being bombarded with hot water, made her body shiver with delight. Too bad she’d be hanging out there alone, but she wasn’t going to go there.

  A sound caught her attention. She peeked around to the right and saw the soles of a beat up pair of work boots attached to folded legs encased in worn jeans. Looking farther up, she saw a small, tight ass, a tool belt and a worn black t-shirt molded to a muscular back. Thick arms moved squares of tile into place in the corner of the shower’s floor. A man was measuring and gauging their placement. Shaggy dark hair outlined an angular face with tanned skin and a straight nose.

  Seeing him caused her body to still. Her eyes fixed on him, her heart did a quick tango. Her body, already a bit warm from her short time in the Texas sun, flushed with heat. Her skin slicked with perspiration. She stood staring at his hands, watching how they placed the tile, made them move this way and that. He stared at them, studied them and contemplated their placement. All she could think was she wanted to be that tile. She wanted his strong hands on her body, posing her, holding her in place, commanding her.

  She must have made some kind of noise because he turned abruptly and stared back at her. For long seconds, neither of them said anything, their gazes locked as if in a contest of wills. He was the first to crack.

  “Oh, hey, you must be Ms. Driscoll.” He stood up and wiped his hands against the front of his thighs. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I saw your truck so I called out,” she said not really paying attention to her own words. Her eyes followed the movement of his hands. Now that he was standing, she could see he was tall and lean. She swallowed hard and forced her eyes up to his face. “Where’s your son?” she asked rather inanely.

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. “My son?”

  “Brandt and Son. It says it on your truck.”

  His face lit up with a smile. It transformed him from merely handsome to downright gorgeous. “Oh, right. I’m the son. My father retired a few years ago and it seemed pointless to change the name of the company. Besides, I may have a son one day who joins me in the business.”

  “Or a daughter,” she replied in a knee-jerk reaction. She had fought her whole career against the notion she was in the wrong place as a woman.

  He grinned again. “Or a daughter.” Running his hand through his hair, he added, “Of course, then I would have to change the name. I’m Kevin Brandt, by the way.” He held up his dirty hands. “Best not to shake.”

  “I’m Emily Driscoll.” And she was damn glad to have an excuse not to shake. Just looking at this man had her hot and bothered. Touching him would probably cause her to burst into flames.

  Kevin’s body tightened as he stared back at his new client. When the decorator had described Emily Driscoll as a hard-as-nails business woman from up north, he’d pictured buttoned down, prim and plain. Two-thirds of his speculation was spot on. The woman was encased in a pant suit and a plain white blouse with a high collar. It was the kind of clothes that said “don’t touch” but man, was he itching to do just that. This northern gal was anything but plain. Her clothing did nothing to hide the luscious curves underneath. And her face was arresting. Pale and oval-shaped with surprising brown eyes considering her blond hair, it was the kind of face one could picture on a water nymph.

  Christ, he was getting fanciful. It wasn’t like him. He was a straight-forward, take-charge, kind of guy. He liked his women to be open and honest. He also wanted them submissive and trusting in bed. His right hand opened and closed on an imaginary flogger because this woman inspired the Dom in him. He had been in the lifestyle since his early twenties and had gained a lot of experience as a top. He enjoyed it as did the lovely women who submitted to him. But lately things had gone stale for him. He wanted more, although he hadn’t realized what that more was until now. The woman standing in front of him was clearly strong and competent. Hell, no one got to be a big time executive without being determined and commanding. And that was the appeal. What would it be like to control such power, to have a strong woman submit to his will?

  He was dying to find out. His cock had already swelled at the idea and he was glad his tool belt hid his obvious condition. It was too soon to tell if his interest would be reciprocated but he didn’t want to make Emily feel uncomfortable around him. He was well aware of how vulnerable she would be if he turned out to be a creep. No sense in giving her that impression when the very last thing he wanted was to impose himself on any woman. The Dom/sub relationship was all about consent. He’d be damn lucky if she turned out to be the type of powerful woman that wanted to be dominated in bed.

  He realized he’d been staring too long. “Ah, nice to meet you, ma’am. If you give me a minute, I’ll pack up and get out of your hair. I’m sure you’d like to kick back given it’s going on eight o’clock already.”

  “It has been a long day,” she agreed with such obvious fatigue that he wanted to sweep her into his arms, lay her down and soothe the stress in her eyes away.

  “I bet. Sue said you’re a VP at Intrepid Industries. That’s a big outfit. Your job must be tough.”

  “It can be. I’m good at it though, and it pays well, so what more can a person ask for?”

  Hot, mind-blowing sex came to mind. He didn’t say it, though. Squatting to put some things away, he said, “Sue told me to get here early and leave late because you want this project done quickly. You still okay with that?” He glanced up at her and waited, hoping for a yes. He wanted back into this house and her orbit as soon as possible.

  “It’s fine,” she replied with a shrug. “I typically leave early and come home late. You won’t disrupt me at all.”

  Oh, but how he wanted to. He wanted to disrupt her days and nights so much she forgot her own name. His pulse did a quick two-step as he briefly contemplated the possibilities. He had no trouble at all picturing her naked and at his mercy, a flogger reddening her ass, her beautiful face wearing an expression of both pain and pleasure. Perfect. She looked away as if she were shy. Yet there was interest, too, flickering in those eyes before they shifted. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but he didn’t think so. He stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulders.

  “Okay, then, Ms. Driscoll. I’ll see you tomorrow around seven.”

  “We’ll probably pass each other at the front door, and please call me Emily.”

  “Kevin,” he confirmed, a big grin popping out. He couldn’t help it. This was going to be a hell of a job.

  Chapter Two

  Kevin had left and yet a sense of excitement lingered. Had that been desire she had seen flash in his eyes? Maybe. She glanced in her bedroom mirror and saw what she always saw, a pretty woman who was about as exciting as her lawyer had recently observed, someone’s maiden aunt. Reaching up, she let her hair out of the confines of its tight French braid. Shaking her head, she struck a sultry pose and laughed out loud. Yeah, right. Sexy was not her forte. She wanted it to be, though. In her secret fantasy life, she had screaming hot monkey sex under the command of a sexy, totally jacked, dominating man.

  She slipped off her shoes and padded over to her nightstand. Tucked in the bottom drawer was a pink silk bag that contained all the naughty toys she had purchased at her friend, Petra’s birthday bash. All the women who had attended the party were great friends, most from the San Antonio area and the reason the decision to move down here hadn’t been so scary. They called themselves the Sassy Seven and they had proven the appellation accurate that night. She had known going in what kind of party it would be and while she thought it would be a lark, she hadn’t intended to buy anything. Two glasses of choco-wine later and she was circ
ling items in the catalogue. She still hadn’t acknowledged she was going to buy anything until it was her turn to meet privately with Gianna, who was selling the scandalous items. Bless the woman, she hadn’t even blinked an eye when Emily had divulged her yearnings.

  She opened the bag and slid out the hidden treasures, silk handcuffs, a suede flogger and a lotion to make one’s nipples and clit tingle. The lotion she knew worked because she had already tried it. The mild burning sensation had upped her pleasure as she worked herself to orgasm. How much better would it be if a man rubbed it on and massaged her to climax? She sighed. She might never know. Her ex-boyfriend, Vaughn, hadn’t spent two seconds considering relocating down to Texas with her and a part of her was relieved. Even if they were still together, she couldn’t imagine him ever doing such a thing. He thought oral sex was the height of naughtiness!

  The other things, the cuffs and the flogger were probably a completely wasted purchase. She could hardly tie herself up and flogging her own ass was too silly to contemplate. What she needed was a strong man and a gentle one, a man who could be trusted with her body. A man like Kevin, except he was a stranger for all that he physically fit her fantasy man perfectly. Maybe, just maybe, he could be trusted. They would be ships passing in the night and the morning, however. How the hell would she ever have the chance to know him better?