His to Possess

Teaser

Book 2 (of 3) in the Smoke & Curves series

Working for Collin Stark, ex-Army interrogator and Chief Executive Bad Ass of a private military company, plus-size beauty Mia James has placed her body on the line to prove she isn't a corporate spy. But when her past resurfaces at a global security conference, the events that transpire may be more than her heart or Collin's trust can survive.

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Copyright © 2013 by Christa Wick

Cover art © DiamantisSeitanidis@dreamstime. All persons and entities are fictional. Not for sale to libraries. No lending outside distributor (e.g. Kindle/Nook) terms of service. Otherwise, re-distributing, lending, or reading this e-book without first purchasing a license to do so is illegal and subject to heavy fines. (SC2-2)

His to Possess

Not done questioning you

My heart kickstarting into high gear, I looked for the third time between the notecard in my shaking hand and the black silk box on my bed. The package had arrived ten minutes before by a private courier in a dark blue van that bore no identifying marks beyond its license plate.

I didn't need a signature to know my employer, Collin Stark, had sent the "gift."

Letting the card fall onto the bedspread, I reached into the box and fingered the surface layer of fabric. Breathtaking even to the touch, the top outfit had been cut from a pale gold silk chiffon. I lifted it from the box and walked to the mirror. It looked like something a queen would wear on her honeymoon, rather than the frumpy, oversized junior secretary to the CEO of Stark International.

Senior secretary, I mentally corrected. Collin Stark had promoted me Tuesday after fucking me senseless and informing me that Janice Green, his then current senior secretary, would be retiring on Friday.

Trying to forget the events of the last week and my sexual capitulation in Stark's office, I held the fabric against my jeans and sweatshirt. I shook my head, my ash-brown hair softly rustling against the thick fleece of my top.

I couldn't imagine stuffing my oversized body into the delicate material. Almost floor length, the dressing gown hooked in the front where a drawstring ran just beneath the breast line to ensure the soft, malleable flesh contained would be held upright. Amber-colored crystals flowed like butterfly wings above and below the drawstring, the cut of the gown such that the panels didn't join to conceal the flesh beneath. More revealing, the semi-sheer fabric would expose the darker coloring of my nipples.

Numb, I slowly returned to the bed and mechanically removed the matching thong underwear from the box, the gold stark against the short black Chantilly lace robe beneath it. I took the remaining outfits out one by one and placed them on the bed. Half-shelf bras and matching panties, corsets and, beneath everything, four pairs of high heeled shoes, each a perfect match to one of the ensembles within the box.

Overwhelmed, I sank to the floor.

Two partially packed suitcases crowded the area next to me. I had spent the day preparing for a flight to Dubai, my first business trip with Collin. The plane departed tomorrow, Sunday. I'd been given packing orders after Janice's retirement party on Friday.

That short notice followed three long days of being every bit as invisible to Stark as I had been the first six months working within his company. Even during the moments we were completely alone in his office, he had remained a blank sheet of steel. A dozen plus times his dark blue eyes had met mine, no heat or emotion evident in their mysterious depths. Every accidental brush of flesh had been just that -- accidental.

At least I hadn't intentionally touched him. The feelings he had evoked within me and the acts I had consented to within his office terrified me. I was only slightly less frightened of Collin. And I certainly didn't think Collin had intentionally touched me in the days that followed his "interrogation" of me in his office. The contact never registered on his face nor in his voice. His hard body and gaze never softened.

Now this -- I lightly bounced the back of my skull against the silk box that had arrived filled with clothes meant for the bedroom and designed to be quickly stripped from the wearer's body. All this from a man that had shown no interest in me before or after that one incident.

Growling, I pushed up from the floor and headed into the kitchen. I dropped a tea bag in a mug of water, set the cook time on the microwave and slipped into the bathroom. Turning on the tub's faucet, I let the hot water slowly build before closing the drain and squirting in some bath foam.

As the tub filled, I finished making my tea then stripped and slid into the hot, hot water.

Fuck, yes, just the thing I needed.

Slipping lower into the water, I closed my eyes. Beneath the covering of foam, my hands roamed my thick body. Camouflaged by bubbles and nearly weightless in the deep tub, I could pretend Collin truly found me desirable and wasn't instead playing some Machiavellian game to expose me as a spy.

I snorted at the concept. Didn't Stark know -- real spies don't have curves, at least not the kind I come equipped with.

Holding my breath, I sank below the water line. Air bubbled through my heavy, dark curls until my hair pooled against the porcelain bottom. Naked, warm and relaxed, with a bed covered in lingerie, I couldn't avoid dwelling on how Stark had taken me in his office.

I folded my hands atop my mound, my fingers surreptitiously parting my labia in search of my clit. I slipped a finger lower, the tip invading my cunt. How many times had Stark filled that wet, swollen hole?

In the corner with his fingers.

Again on the couch between the rough smacks to my ass.

Finally, with my chest flat against his desk, his cock taking me from behind, the shaft and head so big they stretched me until I was lost in a delirium between pain and pleasure.

Gasping for air, I broke the surface of water and bubbles, my body twitching from the orgasm my fingers and memories had quickly ripped from my body.

Trembling, I opened the drain and concentrated on the sudden vortex of water and bubbles created by the act. My emotions swirled with them, spinning more slowly at the top of the inverted cone, accelerating as they narrowed to the wild, dancing pulse of my clit.

Short, measured bursts of sound polluted the air as I fought to avoid hyperventilating. I shook my head, wet hair slapping my flesh in a punishing self-flagellation that did nothing to calm my frenzied body or mind.

In a little more than twelve hours, I would be trapped on a plane for Dubai with a man who had mastered my body in a single encounter without surrendering even a gram of his soul.

I was fucked -- badly -- and there wasn't anything I could, or wanted, to do to escape.

********************

Collin's interrogation began as soon as I stepped into his private jet. He directed a member of the cabin crew to place my bags on the long meeting table that divided the cabin and leave. Once we were alone, he unzipped both bags and began to explore their contents.

"What are you doing?" The relief I had felt on learning that no one at the airport would paw through the revealing clothes inside the luggage evaporated as he fingered the gold chiffon robe. When he didn't answer or stop his search, I folded my arms across my breasts and glared at him. "I read through the list of prohibited items three times, there won't be any issue with the Dubai customs."

His gaze lifted at my challenge, a cold blue fire shimmering at the surface. "I have my own security concerns, Mia."

I rolled my lips, closed my eyes. How the hell would I deflect another attempt to sexually dominate me if I couldn't manage my own temper! Or my passions -- I licked my lips, trying to cool the heat that had erupted at the way he touched the edge of the gold robe.

"Don't lick those luscious lips unless you're ready to suck my cock, Mia."

My eyes flew open. My gaze jerked from Stark to the door the crew member had disappeared behind. Turning abruptly, I took a seat on the dark red couch that lined the curved wall of the plane, my arms protectively wrapped around my chest and shoulders and my legs tightly crossed.

A few more minutes passed as Stark searched my bags then paged a steward to stow them. Taking a seat beside me, he opened his briefcase and ordered an espresso.

"Miss James?" the steward asked after a few seconds of silence.

I looked up and realized he was waiting for my drink request. Really, I wanted a very large shot of Scotch or something equally numbing. Maybe an entire cask of the dark, burning liquid to take my mind off my cunt and the man sitting beside me.

"Water, please." I waited for the steward to depart then scooted to my left, away from Stark.

His hand came down on my thigh, the soft dig of his strong fingers silently directing my return. The instant I complied, he removed his hand and resumed studying the papers he had pulled from his briefcase.

I rolled my eyes, the gesture unnoticed. Stark didn't actually want me next to him, he just wanted to make me uncomfortable. His entire plan started with the delivery of the clothes yesterday and their examination just a few seconds before. He intended me to twist internally at the end of a very long rope of my own making as he continued to ignore me for the duration of the flight.

Fine. I had passed a long night without sleep. He could play his game. I would nap.

Or at least try.

With my eyes shut, I heard papers shuffling in Stark's hands, the sound of coffee beans grinding and the jet's engines as the pilot prepared to taxi. The steward returned with the water and espresso, the plane beginning to move.

Finding Stark absorbed in his papers, the steward smiled brightly at me. "We're third for take off. Will there be anything else before we're in air?"

Stark answered with a distracted
no
. I shook my head, unnerved by the certainty that the young man would disappear for the next twenty minutes or more, leaving me alone with the ruthless enigma beside me.

At least he couldn't try anything until we reached our flight altitude!

Sipping my water to keep the glass from shaking, I watched the steward go. As soon as the cabin door closed, Stark removed the glass from my hand and placed it in the cup holder on the shelf built into the back of the couch.

"Remove your panties."

My breathing stopped, the blood thickening inside my veins. I looked at the door the steward had just left through.

"The crew follows a strict protocol, Mia. As do you."

I rolled my lips, trying to work up the will to protest. I wasn't ready to outmaneuver him. Granted, I might never be ready to accomplish such a task, but a few extra minutes or hours of stalling would be a cooling balm to my fractured will.

"I only give orders I have fully thought out." Collin dropped the papers onto the cushion next to him. "Disobedience is the only luxury I won't give you. Remove the panties, now."

Lungs restarted, my chest began to quickly lift and fall as fresh panic pumped inside me. His hand moved toward my knee and I hurried to obey. I did not want him tearing the panties from me as he had that first time in his office. I might not get a fresh pair before we had to clear customs.

Gripping the sides, I started to push the panties down my hips. Feeling the bottom panel of material stick to my wet flesh, I blushed. Even his brusque indifference wasn't enough to temper my arousal. Closing my eyes, I pushed the fabric over my knees and down my calves, blindly lifting my legs.

I wondered what to do with them. I couldn't leave them out on display and my bags had been removed from the cabin.

"Hand them to me."

Without opening my eyes, I held the cloth in his direction.

"Observe." He took the underwear from me, his one-word command requiring that I watch.

I looked at him unfold the fabric and brush a thumb across the sodden patch, the liquid thin and transparent. Refolding the material, he put the panties in the interior pocket of his business jacket.

"Lift your skirt."