Hostile Takeover Hill, W (thriller books to read .txt) 📖

her, knowing she was still too young to help ease that for him. In the deepening lines on his face, the more serious set to his mouth, it was more obvious to her now than it had been even then.

He took her hand once more. “It’s impossible to argue with you if you’re going to be unreasonable.”

She slid her other hand around his elbow, so she could press her body against his. “That’s your way of saying I’m right.”

“I would never say anything so foolish. Telling a woman she’s right is like giving a terrorist a nuclear weapon. Widespread destruction is inevitable.”

Pinching his arm, she tried not to linger over the hard biceps that she was sure barely felt the impact. God, the man was built. Even in his suits it was obvious, that powerful cat way he had of moving, the breadth of his shoulders, the way his shirts fit across his chest. She remembered him in jeans, how he’d looked playing with the kids. If she was mayor of New Orleans, she’d pass a law that said he had to wear those all the time and nothing else.

He stopped in front of a row of townhouses that had obviously once been a large estate. It now continued its life of graceful historic beauty in three partitions, with the narrow dividing lines of more scenic alley nooks. “Since you know everything about me, I assume you know this is where I live.”

“It was tough, because you’ve moved around a lot. In fact, you only bought this in the past year, and negotiated a price Satan would envy. Your place in the Warehouse District is close to the office, and you stay there most times.” In fact, she thought it odd—and hopeful—he’d decided to bring her here instead, because of the two, the Garden District was more like a home.

He arched a brow at her. “Have pictures of me in the shower?”

“I tried to perch in an oak tree with my extended lens, but I’m not a great climber and didn’t want to risk damaging the equipment.”

She made an indignant noise when he swatted her ass, but she caught his quick grin as well. His hand came back to stroke, reminding them both she wore no panties beneath the skirt. Those butterflies swirled in Marcie’s stomach again, excitement and apprehension.

“If I’m staying overnight,” she ventured, “I should pick up a toothbrush or something.”

“Cass is sending an overnight bag for you via one of the K&A drivers. It’s probably already been dropped it off.” He approached the security grate that blocked the alcove of his front door and peered in. She saw the duffel as well as a garment bag hung on the outdoor light fixture. “There we go.”

“You guys are scary. Like Boy Scouts on steroids.”

“Says my stalker.” Opening the outer gate, he gestured her in underneath his arm. She let her fingers slide against his side as she did, under the pretense of the close quarters, but was surprised when he abruptly turned, lifted her up and pressed her against the shadowed wall of the alcove. Her eyes closed as his mouth took hers, his body pressing her hard against the oyster-shell stucco. Her legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, heels digging into the back of his thighs as he plundered her mouth. Digging his fingers into her hair, he tugged against her scalp mercilessly. She was gasping as he lifted his head.

“When we go through that door, you are a slave. You understand, Marcie?”

She nodded, then found her voice. “Yes sir.”

“You don’t look at me unless I tell you to do so. The second you step over that threshold, you strip. Everything. Jewelry, hairpins, rings, all of it. You leave the clothes folded neatly by the door. Then you sit down on the floor. Legs tucked underneath you, knees spread so I have access to your pussy. Fingers laced behind your head, tits thrust out. You hold that posture, and you stay silent, unless you get physically uncomfortable or I ask you a question. If you start to get uncomfortable, you ask for permission to speak.”

He waited for her nod, then let her down. Turning away, he unlocked the interior door. Once again, he held it open, gestured her to precede him. When she stepped across the threshold, he moved past her without a glance, a dismissal, as he went down the hallway into what looked like the kitchen area.

She took off skirt, bra, shirt, heels. Earrings and bracelets, the ring Cass had given her that belonged to their mother. She put those things in a small dish on the hallway tree, then folded up her clothes beside them. Unclipping her barrette, she took out the couple of pins that held back the more unruly strands, put them with the rest. Then she followed his direction, folding herself down to the polished wood floor. She laced her fingers behind her head, spread her knees, thrust out her breasts.

It was a posture that made her instantly, shamelessly wet. Unlike the obeisance pose, which was a position of humble vulnerability, this one showed pride in her surrender, fully displaying what was her Master’s. Her nipples were drawn up so that the barbells were a tingling burn in the piercings. Her clit piercing was the same.

She could see him through the opening to the kitchen, just a piece of him. He was flipping through his mail. He set something down, was reading it as he stripped off his tie, pulled open a couple buttons of his shirt. It made her mouth dry. She had no doubt he was completely aware of every move she made, yet he was also so…detached. It was heating her blood. Her pussy would be making her calves slippery in no time.

Stepping away from the table, he disappeared into another room of the house. She took the moment to look around. The floors were all hardwood, with that wonderful old wood smell. The narrow staircase probably led