“Here we are,” Stan smiled down at her. They’d taken a couple twists and turns down a few more corridors and now stood in front of an intricately carved, mahogany door, “This was hand carved.” she noted, her fingers tracing the beautiful wood.

“Sure was,” Stan smiled down at her, raising his hand to rap on the door, “carved it my…” but before his hand could connect, the door swung open. Andie blinked, she blinked again. She was seeing things. What was in that margarita. No way was any mortal man was this good looking.  Well over six feet, his snowy silk shirt fit a body, that even through the clothes was obviously perfection, the slacks hanging on his hips in a way that shouldn’t be legal, and his face. Holy Roses. Perfectly chiseled from the jaw to the high cheek bones, to his sensually, sinfully beautiful mouth.  Adonis, is that you? Oh, and he topped it off with the most gorgeous tousled inky black hair.

Andie realized her mouth had dropped open. She snapped it shut. This couldn’t be the billionaire, he was too young and perfect, and…

“Roll up your sleeve.” Adonis bit our the harsh demand. Her eyes flew back to his face, his angry face.  Hell, his enraged face.

“What?” This night getting more bizarre by the second.

“I’m not in the habit of repeating myself,” he growled. The man growled at her.

Okay, Adonis or not, she’d had enough of this alternate reality. The field trip was officially over. Done. Finished. Off the bus and going home. (Well, she was still going to pick up that case of Dial.)

“Roll. Up. Your. Sleeve.” Adonis gave up growling for sharp staccato.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Universe.” She snapped back. She might live in D.C. now, but she’d been raised in the south. Manners matter.

She heard Stan’s bark of laughter behind her, but Adonis, oh shit, if he looked pissed before, it was nothing compared to the rage that filled him now. He swelled with it, then stepping forward, he reached for her arm, and suddenly she was looking at Stan’s back.

“Mr. Drake, I don’t believe the lady gave you permission to touch her.”

Hell no, she didn’t.

So this was the Billionaire. A part of her wondered if the money made him an ass or if being an ass made him the money. Chicken…egg, egg….chicken…..

“Don’t fuck with me Wyatt,” Adonis turned his winning personality on Stan, “It’s a little late for rules now. I saw her wince when that little creep grabbed her.”

In the suddenly tense silence, Andie watched Stan’s back stiffen. He turned to her, his face set in grim lines, “I thought you said he didn’t hurt you…”

“Well, not really….”

“Mm-hm…” Stan’s voice, though soft, very effectively cut her off, “Would you mind rolling up your sleeve for me?”

She looked between the two men. They were serious. Well, maybe she could turn this into a learning experience for Mr. Mega-Bucks. Andie gave Stan a sweet smile, at least she hoped it was sweet. Adonis wasn’t the only one pissed off, “Of course, since you’ve asked so nicely.”

She saw the brief flicker of humor in his eyes, but it fled when she exposed her upper arm.

“Shit.” Stan cursed. Nope, not a bit of humor left. Stan was all business.

“Mother Fucker!” Adonis bit out, “Where the fuck is that little fucker?”

Okaaay, that was a lot of fucks. Andie looked down. The red hand print showed up vivid on her pale skin, and there was no mistaking the blue-gray smudges already appearing.

“I’m sure it was an accident. I bruise easily.” she explained to the air, because the two men in the room weren’t listening.

“Find him.” Drake bit out.

“Already on it.” Stan tapped his ear and stepped aside, “Sampson, get Maurice meet me in the security office. Pull the vid between 7:00 and 7:15,  pretty girl, light brown hair in a.pony-tail…Yeah, that one.” Stan’s eyes flicked to her. Silence, then, “Yeah, tell me about it….” his eyes darted to Drake, “Guy always did have the devil’s own luck, doesn’t share either. Selfish bastard.” More silence. Well, other than Adonis growling again.

Andie looked between the two men. And the confusion that had been tickling the back of her mind all night sharpened to a fine point and she didn’t like where it was pointing. Swa Fierce exhaustion swamped her, the room swayed. She leaned back against the wall, just inside the “Screening room,” closed her eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning.  She felt Adonis eyes on her. She shivered, wondering if field mice felt this way right before the hawk swooped in snapped their fragile little necks.

Stan said, “If he’s here we’ll find him.” She heard the door open and close and knew she was alone with the hawk.

 Just ignore the big-scary-bird-with-the razor-sharp-talons  and it will go away.

“I’m sorry.” the softly spoken words fell into the room, shocking her into opening her eyes. Adonis looked uncomfortable to the point of embarrassed. “I saw him grab you and…” He paused, a little tick pulsing in his perfect jaw, and raked an impatient hand through his hair. His beautiful, soft, silky, oh so touchable, hair. “I reacted badly,” his eyes met hers, “Forgive me.”

She had to jerk her mind away from his hair to process his words and…what, wait, Holy hell, and hold the fucking phone. Andie’s mouth dropped open again, her eyes going wide with shock. He really meant that, forgive him? Who even said that any more.

Through her shocked haze, she watched him approach. He wasn’t angry now. His lips turned up in a small sphinx-like smile, he stalked towards her, graceful, slow… till he was right front of her. That was when she realized her righteous anger had deserted her. Leaving her completely defenseless. A tiny, shaking little field mouse. She took a deep breath. Oh no, oh, she was in trouble. He smelled good….beyond good…yummy. No piney-stinky bathroom cologne for Adonis. He smelled delicious, decadent; clean linen, spice and something else, something male.

In the back of her head a little alarms were going off, but she couldn’t hear them over the rushing blood in her ears. Her eyes locked with his, as he slowly brought his hand up, one long elegant finger extended, he placed it under her chin, and applied gentle pressure till her mouth closed, but his hand stayed. That one index finger brushing her jaw, while his thumb skittered lightly over her bottom lip. Her legs wobbled, her belly clenched. Holy shit, how could such a small touch be so intense…so….erotic.  She took another deep breath, and more of his incredibly delicious scent filled her head.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” was that her voice, that breathy whimper?

“Hhmm,” he leaned in close, till his perfectly sculpted lips brushed her ear with his words, “Give me permission, Mandy.”

“Andie.” more breathy sound.

He was so close she felt his warm chuckle, “Alright, Andie then.  Give me permission, Andie.”

Later, when she thought about that moment, she couldn’t pinpoint what made her say it. Her exhaustion, the four sips of margarita, his intoxicating smell, or his mesmerizing words, but for whatever reason….”Okay.”

She registered a flicker of triumph in his eyes, then he struck. Between one breath and the next, she was pinned to the wall, both her hands locked in one of his, over her head, his hips pressing in on hers, and his mouth slammed down, and she was gone. Carried away by her own rushing blood, and a man she was no match for.

His mouth plundered, taking her breath. His tongue stroking hers in lush, sensual glides, and when she met him with tentative touches of her own, his chest vibrated with his low groan. He was everywhere. His body pressing her to the wall. Then he shifted, his thigh pressing against her and oh, that thigh knew what it was doing. Pressing, releasing, pressing again. Sharp pleasure shot from her core to her belly and back. Over and over. The blood in her ears got louder. She was burning, drowning from the inside out. Her need for oxygen caused her to jerk her mouth away. Her need for sanity, said the breathless words for her, “Wait….I..don’t..think..”

“No thinking Andie,” his warm breath caressed her neck, right below her ear, “Feel, sweet girl.” He followed with a quick lick of his tongue on that little spot. Sweet heat bloomed down low and slid from her in a silky glide.

Oh God, he was making her wet. Wet, and soft, and needy. His thigh rolling over that knot of nerves where the pleasure coiled in a tight, and then his hand found it’s way under her sweater.

Another groan, low and hungry, vibrated through him low groan vibrate through him,“You’re skin is like silk…so soft….and sweet.”

Andie opened her mouth to tell him it was the confectioners sugar, but a breathy moan slipped out instead.

Still nuzzling that sensitive place behind her ear, his hand swept up her side and cupped her breast and when his thumb brushed her nipple, she arched into him. Pushing her breast into his hand and her core into his thigh.

“So responsive,” his hot murmur touched her everywhere. Her skin felt too tight. She was moving on his thigh. Her mind was horrified, but her body wasn’t hers to command anymore – it was his.  She was slick with the cream flooding her. Her sex throbbed, straining against him……..

“Yes, that’s right.” Hot words brushed her neck. He nibbled his way down, until he reached the place her pulse fluttered. “It feels good, doesn’t it, baby.” Another brush of his thumb on her nipple.

Yes, oh yes, God, it felt good. A needy whimper bubbled in her throat. She was going to fly apart. Then the brush of his thumb on her nipple turned to a sharp pinch, at the same time he bit down on her shoulder, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue. Her entire body convulsed. Burying her face in his neck, she bit down on his shoulder, through the soft silk of his shirt, a hoarse cry tearing from her throat. The intense sesation seizing her, breaking her apart. She shuddered, crashing like a wave on a beach. Over and over it ripped through her, until she lay, panting and limp, in his arms.

“Oh, you naughty girl,” his hot breath in her ear roused her, ”Did you just come? Right here up against the wall?”

Did she? Yes..yes she did. Oh, shitty, shitty fuck-fuck! What had she done? What was she doing?  She yanked at her arms, “Let go, please,” the words were little more than shaking gasps.

He stepped back, rubbing his hands up and down her arms,“Sshh, it’s alright.”

Alright?!!? Alright??!!! She bit down on her lip to stop the hysterical laughter from rolling out of her. No, it wasn’t alright. Nothing was alright. She’d lost her mind, and nearly lost her panties. She was a universe away from alright. Her head swam, she was moving in slow motion.

Orgasms against walls in sex clubs made her dizzy. Noted.

She hauled breath into her lungs. Focus…Focus on what? Not Adonis, that was for damn sure. The article. Ted’s Article. Right. Yes. When everything around you spins out of control stick to the basics. Somebody famous said that….sometime. She was here to get an interview and she was damn well gonna. Gonna? Since when did she say gonna. She was a teacher for Christsake. Yes, she taught people how to bake, but still….Gonna – she kind of liked it. Yep, it was staying. She was gonna get that story.

Holding in her hysterical urge to giggle, she leaned down to pick up her purse. She’d dropped it on the floor sometime between entering the room and screaming out her orgasm. She closed her hand on empty air. Tried again, her hand closed around the leather strap. Leather, hah! Take that kinky sex bar. Keeping her eyes averted, so she wouldn’t get caught in Mr. Sex-on-legs hypnotic sex-stare, and with very deliberate steps she made her way to the leather sofa. Seating herself on the edge, back straight, she cleared her throat, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her hear, and announced, “I’m here for the interview.”

The orgasm was just a bonus – like a gift with purchase. She always was a sucker for those little freebies at the Lancome counter.

Ivan

“I’m more than satisfied with the interview so far.” Drake held in his grin and gave the little sub some space.  She was perfect, every sweet, creamy inch of her from the top of that coppery head to the soles of her feet in those ugly boots. He wanted her out of those hideous clothes and spread out. He’d lick every inch of that creamy skin. Then wrap her silky hair in his fist and fuck her, then fuck her again, and lick her some more. Scenario after scenario played in his mind. He was dying to get her back to his playroom. She’d already earned punishment, coming without permission, in under two minutes. Yes, five lashes with that new crop, the braided one. Oh, and another five for that smart-ass “Mr Universe” comment. That he’d deserved it and it had made him hotter than a bonfire in hell was irrelevant. Shit, his cock ached like a sore tooth. He had to get her to sign the papers and get her the hell out of here while he could still walk.

Still, he needed to proceed carefully, his temper had almost lost her for him. He needed to move fast, but make it appear slow. So, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. Perfectly willing to give her the illusion of control, for say…..the next ten minutes. She’d to sign within ten minutes.  Definitely doable.

He watched her rummage around in that giant, hideous purse. He’d call Neiman’s tonight. Then his eyes caught on the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He wanted to kiss every one of them. Shit, what if she had more of those freckles in other places? His eyes ran over her breasts, her hips, her thighs. Sweet Jesus! He was sweating. He’d call Neiman’s tomorrow. Tonight he’d be too busy making her scream.

Finally she pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper, and looked in his direction. Her eyes, an aqua so vivid they seemed to glow, focusing at some spot over his left shoulder, “I have questions.” She waved the crumpled paper at him.

“Of course you do…” he nodded reasonably, wondering if those eyes would darken when she screamed out his name.

“Ted wrote them down”

Ted? Who the fuck….“Who’s Ted.”

“What?” She blinked her fluffy copper lashes at that same spot over his shoulder.

“Who’s Ted?” He repeated slowly, coming up off the wall, his body tensing.

“You know…Ted. He sent me.” She rolled her large eyes.

“Ted sent you?” He came up off the wall. What the hell? She already had an arrangement with some Dom. Well, fuck that, he didn’t share. This Ted character was history, and he was adding five more lashes for the rolling eyes. Fifteen so far, Her sweet ass was going to be nice and pink. His cock twitched.

“Of course, silly.” Did she just refer to him as silly, five more. “He sent me, everybody’s sick.”

“Everybody’s sick?” True enough, although what that had to do with anything….

“Yes, well except me.”

“Everybody’s sick ….except you.” He repeated, hoping it would make sense the second time he heard it, and no it did not.

“Right, did you have one of the margaritas too?”

“What?” What the hell was that supposed to mean? His brain started buzzing.

“I think they make them really strong. Anyway, Ted said he was lucky to get this interview, and I got the flu shot. So I got drafted when I was doing laundry. Oh,” her teeth came out and worried that plump juicy bottom lip, “I hope he remembers to move everything to the dryer.”

And with that crazy statement she produced an old fashioned cassette recorder out of that hideous bag and plunked it on the table in front of her, cleared her throat, “The amber alert on Sophie Mackie hadn’t gone out when you rescued her. How did you know she was missing?”

“What?” The buzzing in his head grew louder. Images flashed through his mind.  Here for the interview,  Andie – not Mandy, Ted as in Lewis,  Theodore Lewis  of The Old Town Crier, Abbot home with the flu. Jennifer!! His heart was racing. He couldn’t breathe. His vision clouded. Panic, this was panic.

“Oh, wait, the tape recorder’s not on.”

He heard her over his pounding heart, and watched through his haze of shock, as his new, perfect, little submissive, leaned forward, missed the “record” button by a mile, and slid unconscious to floor.