His Terms

She stood, gritted her teeth, and refused to acknowledge what he was saying. But the truth was he was right. There was a strong part of her that was curious as to what it would be like to be his, for no other reason than for the fact that he wanted her. Maybe this was all just a bullshit, but elaborate, scheme for him to fuck her. He had the money to drop like this, but he didn’t need to, that was for sure.

“I won’t ever be yours, Mr. Hartford.” She gripped her purse in her hand and turned to leave the office. She most likely wouldn’t have a job come Monday, but if this was the shit she had to work with, screw it. She’d waitress at the coffee shop if she had to, but she wouldn’t do what he wanted. She reached for the handle, but his deep voice stopped her once again. He had this uncanny ability to do that, and she hated it, but secretly wanted more.

“Even if you decide not to sign the contract, you have a job.”

She closed her eyes, hated that although he had just offered up a dick proposal, he still had a little bit of decency in him. Or maybe this was still part of the game? She didn’t respond, but before she knew what was happening he was right behind her. Sorcha felt his body heat slam into her, felt his warm, humid breath brush along the nape of her neck, and felt herself actually tremble. The feelings that bombarded her were so damn intense she couldn’t control her breathing. She went from pissed off to aroused in seconds flat.

Then the asshole pressed his erection into her lower back, dug the fucking thing into her, and she felt like she might pass out. This was so going against company policy. Hell, this totally put sexual harassment in the workplace to a whole different level.

“Just think about it, Sorcha.”

Her breath became shallow, and her desire for this man heightened. The feeling of his dick on her lower back, so hard and big, had her panties wet. And then he reached out, gripped the handle, right over her hand, and turned it to open the door. She stumbled out, glanced over her shoulder to see him leaning against the frame smirking, and faced forward again. Once inside the elevator she closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall behind her. This had to be a dream, or a nightmare. Heck, she had to pinch herself to make sure this was actually happening. She knew she had no intentions of signing any contract, because no matter how much money he offered, she was no man’s property. But even thinking that had her mind faltering slightly, because the thought of being Rian’s for a week, did have a very dark, tempting quality to it.

8

Rian sat on the back porch of his apartment and stared at Central Park that was right across from him. It was Saturday evening, and all he had thought about since he spoke with Sorcha earlier today was … her. She was a take no shit girl, but underneath that hard veneer he saw the woman she really was. She may say she would never submit to a man, but there was a definite part of her that was curious.

He wasn’t even thinking about BDSM for what he liked in the sexual sense, but he could assume why she would think he was into really kinky shit. Although he on occasion enjoyed restraining his sexual partners, it wasn’t something he practiced constantly. The few women that came forward and spilled about what a bastard he had been for not wanting more, were usually the ones that thought they could change him.

He just wanted her in any way she’d let him have her, and because of that he felt a little out of control. Rian was always in control. Always. But with her he felt different, felt like there was this pull. In reality he didn’t know if he liked that feeling, or hated her for making him feel less than in control.

“Mr. Hartford, a Miss Marshall is here requesting your presence.”

Rian glanced over his shoulder at Theodore, a man that had worked for his father back in the day, and now worked for him. Rian scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling annoyed at knowing Beatrice had shown up. He contemplated having Theodore tell her he wasn’t seeing anyone tonight, but he knew how persistent she was.

“Would you like me to send her away?” Theodore asked, his wrinkled face showing no emotions. He was old, but he didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all a woman like Beatrice Marshall.

“No, I better deal with her.” Rian stood. “You’ve let her into the building?”