Maybe that’s why all the women who threw themselves at him meant less than nothing. They were forgotten before they even left his penthouse condo. Because he’d done nothing to get them. They were no challenge and no game. There was no skill involved with obtaining them. They were, in essence, as boring as his day job was most days.
And none of them had raven black hair that reached their waists, huge grey eyes, thick dark lashes, and lips that were red enough and plush enough to look best wrapped around his cock.
Okay, so his thoughts hadn’t been professional in a long time. He’d given up so long ago, trying to force them to be.
Colette’s perky tits, her round hips, tight ass, and shapely legs, were constantly on his mind. She had a strange sense of fashion and dressed, most of the time, in retro clothing. Real retro, not that knock off shit. It was cute. Fuck, it was more than cute. She was petite and curvy, barely five five, and she knew how to dress her curves with sweet little polka dot dresses and cutesy cardigans. Skirts that defined her narrow waist and hugged her lush ass.
Fuck.
Even before Colette strode into his office, smelling like fresh air, vanilla, and sugar- which ironically enough, was exactly how he’d thought she’d smell between her legs- he was hard.
Hard didn’t even begin to cover it.
Blaze had a raging boner that he used his desk to shield as he sat behind the massive modern monstrosity and stared down the woman who had just sauntered into his office. Yes. Sauntered. Or sashayed. Whatever she’d done, her yellow sixties style dress made her hips and rear look good doing it. The way it defined her breasts wasn’t half bad either.
She sunk into one of the teak MCM chairs in front of the desk and eyed him like he was the equivalent of a surprise floating turd at an adults only pool party, or a viper about to latch onto her ankle right above the red pump she’d paired with her yellow dress.
Her hair was swept back off her creamy forehead with a red headband and tied back at the nape of her neck, where the scarf thing she’d used, trailed down her back along with those impossible dark curls.
Blaze steepled his fingers on his desktop and tried to think about anything but how that hair would feel wrapped around his knuckles as he plowed into her behind.
He was seriously depraved.
Judging from the way Colette eyeballed him, she knew it too.
“I’m here,” she stated, and wasn’t that just capital fucking obvious since she was sitting right in front of him.
One dark brow arched and her full lips painted scarlet, parted lusciously. He nearly groaned as her tongue darted out nervously. Or maybe her lips were just dry. It was often dry in the office. Her slate-grey eyes took him in, appraising his expensive suit, his expansive office, and finally, a face that most women would happily pay him so they could lick.
She was completely nonplussed, and fuck, if that didn’t turn him on more. It didn’t matter that Office Baby was hard to get.
He liked a merry chase.
Made him feel like an Alpha wolf and all that nonsense.
“You’re here,” he echoed, like the annoying bastard he knew he was.
She got right to the point. “You said that I could have anything. Well, almost anything. I don’t know what the heck kind of parameters those are, and in the future, you should be more careful about what you put out there, because there are people here who would ask for like, one hundred percent shares in this company and then call you unfair and a liar when you say no.”
“Which is why I said almost anything.”
“That could be anything.”
“Exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed like she wanted to crush him under the heel of that inexpensive retro shoe. He nearly wished she would. It might be a new turn-on and he was always up for a little bit of kink.
“I- well- I was going to ask for a raise.”
This time he arched a brow. He kept his hands folded, his fingers intertwined, his back straight, like a real asshole. Like the rich boss who was so rich, he could look down on her from where he sat. Maybe that was her kink. Did she ever use him for spank bank material, secretly, in the dark of her room? God, he wanted to know.
“You were? As in, you aren’t going to now?”
Those blood-red lips pursed, and it was all he could do not to leap across his desk and brutalize them with his own. Give them a reason to pout, to be so red, so bruised and plush looking.
God, she was gorgeous.
She stared back at him like he was a filthy gnat that she was half afraid of, half hell-bent on destroying.