He’s like a caveman the way he constantly picks me up and does whatever he wants with my body. He’s always bending me over or throwing me over his shoulder as he carries me to the room. Most women would hate it, but I love it. I always feel so dainty and feminine when my big strong man tosses me around and handles me like that. It always gets me going and I think he knows that.
“How was the gym?” I ask as he reaches under my summer dress and grabs a hold of my panties in his thick hands.
He buries his face into the nook of my neck and kisses me with a frenzy of lust and desire. “Horrible,” he says between kisses. “Anywhere I go without you is horrible.”
I smile as I sink my fingers into his gray hair. He’s much older than me but he’s still a beast in the sheets. Even I can’t keep up with his sexual appetite sometimes, although I’m always open to trying.
“Where are the boys?” he asks, his hands hesitating on my upper thighs.
“The park.”
He yanks my panties down my legs and rips them off my feet without a second of hesitation. I moan as he jumps right back in place, pulling my dress up my legs as he stares down between my thighs with a hungry look in his eyes.
My life with Logan has been perfect. My stern father stopped talking to both of us when he found out about us but we don’t really care. I hated his new wife anyway and he was always so judgmental and unnecessarily strict so it was more of a relief than anything when we cut ties.
Besides, Logan has more than made up for any small loss that I had from losing my family.
He’s given me a new family, and so much more.
Logan is all that I need. He’s more than enough.
“God, Logan,” I moan, throwing my head back as he fills me with his long beautiful cock. I love feeling him inside me. It’s like my body was made for him. Like the walls of my pussy were designed for his thick dick.
He sinks his hand into my hair and grabs a fistful of it, pulling my parted lips to his face. He claims my mouth with a firm demanding kiss as he thrusts hard into me, making my body flood with heat.
He always knows what to do to make me his. I tremble in his arms, my orgasm rushing forward.
We don’t last long. We rarely do with these fierce quickies.
How can I hold off with his hot body that’s covered in a sexy sheen of sweat pressed against mine? Or with his hot breath tickling my skin, his hard tattooed arms gripping me so tightly, or with his thick cock filling me so perfectly?
He reaches down and presses his thumb against my clit. The pressure blinds me. He closes his mouth over mine as I come hard, melting into him as he continues fucking me relentlessly through my orgasm.
I’m on fire when he gives me one final thrust, rooting himself in deep as he coats the inside of my pussy with hot jets of cum.
I grip his flexed arms tightly as his cock jumps and pulses deep within me and he grunts into my neck, sending warm shivers rushing through my body.
I love his barbaric sounds. The grunts and groans. The way he orders me around during sex, making me bend to his every demand. Ten years later and it still gets me so hot.
His body loosens in my arms as his orgasm washes away. His breathing has slowed but he’s still holding me as tightly as he did on our first night together. He holds me like he never wants to let me go, and he never has.
I love it here with him.
He always makes me feel so loved and protected. I feel so safe in his arms.
He’s flipped my world upside down in the best possible way.
This dominant brute.
This intense alpha male.
My father’s best friend.
My first true love.
My Logan.
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CEOooooooo
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Sneak Peek of Mr. CEOooooooo
Chapter One
Emma
“Miss Martin,” the woman says, watching me with a tightness in her eyes. She looks like someone who doesn’t like to have her time wasted, and she thinks that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I wish she wasn’t right.
“Present,” I say, raising my hand as I stand up. Present? Are you fucking kidding me, Emma?
It’s bad enough that I look like I’m straight out of high school (which I am), but do I have to act like it too?
The woman just rolls her eyes before turning and walking away. I grab my father’s old briefcase, which is currently empty, and hurry after her.
“Good luck,” the receptionist says, smiling at me as I rush past her.
“Thanks,” I answer with a gulp. I’m going to need it.
It’s my first job interview and I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know about this company is the name. Decker Engineering.
I’m not even supposed to be here. My mother applied for this job for herself, but when she couldn’t get out of bed this morning, I threw on her clothes, grabbed my dad’s old briefcase (one of the few things he left us besides all of the debt), and came myself.
I’m sick of having the landlord stopping me in the hallway to remind me that we’re three months late on rent and that there are ‘other ways’ of paying him back, I’m sick of having to shoplift at the grocery store, I’m sick of wearing socks that look like Swiss cheese, but more than anything, I’m sick of feeling like exactly what my dad said we were before he split: worthless.
I refuse to prove him right.
The office is beautiful with old thick beams running along the high ceilings. Everybody is dressed so well, and I feel so out of place in my faded black skirt and blouse that’s way too tight.
My stomach is filled with butterflies as I walk down the hallway and look out the wall of windows. We’re on the forty-second floor and the view of Chicago is incredible from up here. Everything is incredible in here. Even the carpet under my feet is so thick and soft that it makes me want to curl up under a desk and sleep on it.
The woman never looks back as she power walks down the hall, probably hoping that I got lost a few turns ago, and decided to go back home. I would love to slink out of this place that I don’t fit into at all, but desperation makes me stay.
We turn around another corner of offices before walking past a large conference room where there’s a meeting going on. A man is standing at the head of the huge table, talking to about a dozen people who are all listening intently to him. I try to keep my eyes on my scuffed-up shoes as I walk past, but I feel eyes on me and I have a sudden urge to look up.
The man at the head of the table is staring right at me with hard intense eyes. A warm shiver flows through me as I look at his strong jaw that’s covered in the perfect amount of stubble. His hair is slicked to the side, every hair meticulously in place like he controls everything, even the individual hairs on his head.
The butterflies in my stomach really start to go nuts as I wonder why he’s staring at me like that. My heart starts pounding when I realize that he’s not talking anymore. The meeting is on hold as I walk past the room.
He’s wondering why an impostor is walking down the halls of his kingdom. He’s pissed that I’m here.
His eyes follow me as I walk, his neck turning like a swivel on his frozen body. My cheeks are so hot that I’m worried the sprinklers in the ceiling are going to go off and give us all a shower.
He must be the boss. Authority and power radiate from every pore in his body. I can feel it even though we’re not even in the same room. His thick and muscular body just exudes control and dominance. His fitted suit looks painted on his large frame, hugging his round arms and making me swallow hard. My eyes flit to the tattoo on the back of his hand that’s sexy as fuck. He doesn’t look like what I consider the corporate type, but then again, I don’t know anything about this world. I just graduated high school a few months ago.
He dis
appears from my view when I pass the room and an immediate sense of loss hits my core like a punch in the stomach.
“Let’s go, Miss Martin,” the woman says, staring at me with narrow eyes. “I have other interviews to get through, and I want to get this one over with quickly.”
My cheeks get even redder as I lower my head and follow her. She opens the door to her office and gives me a cold smile as she lets me in.
Nausea creeps up my throat as I take a seat in the plush leather chair in front of her desk. She shakes her head as she closes the door, cursing something under her breath that I can’t hear. Not going to lie, I’m pretty glad that I don’t hear it.
“Well, this is interesting,” she says, looking over my mother’s resume as she walks around the desk and sits down. “Ten years experience as a cashier. Six years working as a waitress in a diner. Tell me Miss Martin. Did you start working when you were in diapers?”
My body slinks down in the chair as her hard eyes dart to mine, narrowing viciously. My mother is supposed to be sitting in this chair, not me.
But she’s been suffering from severe depression since my father left last year, and some days she just can’t get herself out of bed. Today was one of those days.
I decided to take her place and do what my grandfather always used to say: Fake it till you make it. Although, right now I think they should change that to: Fake it till you throw up.
“I think you might have the wrong resume,” I say, swallowing hard as I grab my briefcase and put in on my lap. I laugh nervously as I force open the rusted latch that always sticks, and open it up. “I think I have another one in here somewhere.”
She can’t see inside so I pretend like I’m ruffling through important papers, when all I’m doing is clearing the cobwebs in the empty old briefcase.
“What’s your real name?” she asks, not buying my little routine.
“Emma Martin,” I answer, slowly closing the briefcase as I look up at her.
“Why are you wasting my time, Emma?” she asks as she leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. She doesn’t look happy. She has heavy bags under her eyes and looks like she hasn’t been laid in a while. There’s a framed photo of two dogs on her desk, but no picture of a husband or boyfriend in sight. Maybe if she smiled more, she would get one.
“I apologize for the mix-up, Mrs—?”
I wait for her to fill in her name, but she just glares at me, letting me sit there uncomfortably.
“I may not have a ton of experience,” I say.
“Or any experience,” she mutters.
“Or any experience,” I continue. “But I’m a very hard worker, and I’ll show up on time every day.”
She uncrosses her arms and leans forward. She smells like the old stinky potpourri that my grandmother used to have. “This is a Fortune 500 company,” she says, like I’m supposed to know what that means. “We’re the top engineering firm in the Midwestern United States. Top five in the country. Top twenty in the world. We’ve built some of the most recognizable buildings and structures in the world, from the Al Bashshar Tower in Dubai, to the Imperial Square in London, to the Ola Falante Portugues Soccer Stadium in Brazil. We require a bit more than punctuality when acquiring a job applicant.”
“I have a briefcase,” I say, laughing nervously as I lift it up, showing her the frayed corner.
She doesn’t find my sense of humor amusing.
“Thank you for coming in and wasting my time, Emma,” she says as she crumples my mother’s resume up into a ball and tosses across the office at the garbage can. I’m secretly thrilled when she misses.
“Actually,” I say, starting to panic as she gets up. “It was my mother who was supposed to come.”
“And she sent you,” she says, sneering at me. “How lovely.”
“Do you think we can reschedule her for tomorrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “She would make a great office assistant.”
The woman laughs. Well, it’s more like a sad snicker than a laugh. “I think we know all we need to know about you and your mother. We’ll call you if we’re interested.”
All of the energy gets zapped from my body as she stands up. My legs are weak and there’s a pain in my chest as my heartbeat turns sluggish. I close my eyes, fighting back the burning tears that are desperately trying to burst out.
Don’t cry in front of her. Please, don’t cry in front of her.
“Perhaps the homeless shelter down the street would be more suited to you,” she says, enjoying watching me squirm.
“Are they hiring?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in hope.
She chuckles. “It’s time to go, Emma.”
I take a deep breath and stand up when the door swings open, making me gasp. The man from the conference room-the fierce looking one with the tattooed hand—bursts in, locking his dark eyes on me.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise as I look up at him in surprise. He’s massive. I thought he looked big in the conference room, but he looks absolutely giant standing over me in the small office.
His jaw is clenched as he stares down at me with heated eyes. He looks agitated, or pissed, I can’t tell which. He’s breathing in short violent gasps, and I’d bet his heart is beating even harder than mine is.
“Mr. Decker,” my interviewer slash tormentor says, straightening up as she looks at him. He doesn’t even glance at her.
“I’ll finish her interview in my office,” he says in a firm dominant voice that sends shiver racing through my trembling body.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Decker,” the woman says, waving a dismissive hand at me. “She’s not experienced enough, and I don’t think she’d be a proper fit.”
He looks annoyed as he pries his eyes off of me and turns to her, like he’s upset that she’s making him look anywhere else but at my tingling body.
“I’ll bring her to my office, and see if she’s a proper fit.” His eyes fall down to my skirt as he says the last two words, and my pussy pulses in response.
It sounded so sexual, but it was probably just in my head. And between my legs.
“Mr. Decker,” the woman says, not knowing when to shut up. “She has no experience.”
“Perfect,” he whispers, licking his lips as he stares at me like he’s a hungry wolf about to chow down on a baby lamb. “I like them untouched and inexperienced.”
There’s a flutter in my chest as it gets incredibly hot in the small office.
The woman is desperate to get me out of this building. She grabs a handful of resumes off the table and thrusts them at him. “Here are twenty more qualified candidates that would be more than—”
“Carol,” he snaps, turning to her with a look that makes her take a step back. His thick neck is strained tight and turning red. He grabs my arm in a possessive grip, holding me like he’s never going to let me go. “I want her.”
Carol doesn’t look so tough anymore as she nods up and down quickly with her mouth closed in a pinched line.
Without another word, he pulls me out of the office, squeezing my bicep with his powerful tattooed hand.
It’s immature and exactly what Carol would expect of me, but I don’t care. I stick my tongue out at her as we leave.
The man is acting like a barbarian in a designer suit as he pulls me down the hall so fast that I have to run to keep up. I’m sure if I fall he would just keep dragging me.
“Mr. Decker,” a head says, popping out of an office as we pass. “Can I get your signa—”
“Later,” he growls, practically snarling at the guy. The guy’s face drops in shock as he turns from Mr. Decker to me.
Mr. Decker doesn’t slow one step as he charges past the office, pulling me along with him.
I swallow hard as we arrive at a huge corner office that’s bigger than the apartment I live in. There’s an older woman who looks like she’s about to retire sitting at a large desk outside. I think she’s his personal secretary.
She holds
out a post-it note when she sees him coming. “Mr. Xi called and is ready to finally close the deal,” she says, looking thrilled to give the boss some good news.
He just barrels past her and opens his door. “Hold all of my calls,” he grunts as he pulls me into the office. “Make sure we’re not disturbed.”
I swallow hard as he slams the door closed and races to the blinds that are hanging over the huge windows that look out into the office.
“Sit,” he orders as he closes each one of them.
My pulse races as I see the secretary’s shocked face disappear behind a closed blind.
I sit in a chair in front of his massive desk, trying not to look as nervous as I feel.
When the door is locked, the blinds are closed, and he’s satisfied that no one can see in, he slowly takes off his jacket and folds it on the black leather couch along the wall. My breath is trapped in my throat as I watch him slowly and meticulously roll his sleeves up his thick tattooed forearms one at a time.
“Now,” he says in a smooth controlled voice as he walks over to the desk in front of me and leans against it. “The real interview will begin.”
I gulp when I glance down and see his rock hard cock jutting out against the inside of his fitted pants.
“And,” he says, looking down at my pussy that’s getting wetter by the second, “we’ll find out if you are a proper fit.”
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Guarding Her Body Page 16
