Purr Scent I: The Meeting (Purr Billionaire BDSM Trio, #1) (2 page)

“—hands down.”

Oh, shit. Dread raced through her veins. Dream God was supposed to stay in her dream, not become Real God. Her cheekbone hurt where it lay squashed against the desk, the edge of which jutted against her thighs. She couldn't scream, even if she wanted to. Her office was soundproof, just like the boardroom. Only difference was that the boardroom had full-length windows to alert passersby. Her office didn't and only sported a curtained view of the Seattle skyline she so adored. Why didn't she think of having a security camera installed in her office?

“Let me go!” she seethed, her hands struggling to break free. She stiffened her low back so her heels could scramble for purchase, but he stood between her parted legs. Craning her neck, she struggled  but lacked the strength to pull herself upright without the use of her hands. All her efforts proved futile. She so wished she was a gym rat and had taken some self-defense lessons.

“The only way I'm letting you go is off.” He placed one of her cuffed hands against the bulge in his pants. “I've got the best offer on the market, and you know it. Why let go of it?”

“Why are you twisting all this around?” she grunted, trying to free her hand from his grip and fist her hands together to keep from feeling his awful erection. Her boobs were starting to hurt from being pressed to the desk by sheer gravity. “Release me!”

“Oh, I will give you the release you crave.” He petted her hair and stroked down her spine, which to her dismay tingled at his slight touch.

What was he doing to her? Try as she could to wince away, she only smashed her cheek up against the desk all the more. “I crave nothing of yours!”

“My packaging is food grade. Edible.” He traced a path up along her inner thigh. “I believe yours is, too. Why deny it?”

“This is sexual harassment,” she bit out.

“We're talking business.” Unbelievable. How could his voice stay so cool while his hand was hot under her skirt? “We both know entering into this deal will yield us the greatest profit margin.”

She bit her lip as his fingers edged closer to her core, stoking the fires of a need she had long denied. She listened to the thudding of her heartbeat, not trusting the steadiness of her voice if she were to make a sound.

Who was she kidding? This was sexual assault!

His hand stopped at her panties, at the V of her thighs. She held her breath, not even trusting the sound of her breathing to be steady.

“I can smell you,” he whispered.

She stiffened. Curse her traitorous body and his keen sense of smell! Curse all those times she'd gotten off to fantasies of him. Her poor body couldn't help it—she'd trained it too well to respond to him.

“Doesn't mean I want it,” she huffed, baring her teeth when she found her voice back. Yes, if she could keep her anger on the surface, then she could easily cover up her carnal needs and the strain of her neck twisted to one side.

“You do,” he asserted, “and you have. For two years now.” His ever-present hand started moving again and wrapped around the front of a thigh.

Mariah squeezed her eyes shut. God, it felt good, but...
Dammit
.
How did you know?

“Because I've watched you. I've smelled you.”

She must have asked that whisper of a question aloud. If she hadn't been down already, flat against her desk, she would have fallen to the ground and wished for it to open and swallow her up.

“All those secretive glances you've thrown my way when you don't think I'm looking, all the times you've crossed your legs to squeeze your thighs shut to keep the edge off, all the rouge you put on to hide your true colors when you blush, all the times you've put more and more people between us at these meetings as if you'd be safe from me...”

His hand traced the edge of her low-cut panties, traveling perilously close to her pubic mound and nub.

Mariah's cheeks grew hot. “Why are you doing this now? Why today? Why not before?”

“Ah.” His hands retreated and she felt on edge, unsure where they would land next. “Today was the very first time I caught you off your game, when you absolutely had no fucking idea what I asked you during that board meeting. You. Went. Somewhere.”

Her hair roots tingled to itching point as her ears burned. That
somewhere
had to do with him, all right.

“And when I asked you where you went, you didn't answer that question either.” His hands moved to cup her hips possessively. “So I'm here to punish you—”

Hell no!

“—for
both
offenses.” When his hands pinched her buttocks, she gasped. “You need to be disciplined.”

C
lark retrieved his swiss army knife, grateful that Mariah's sleeveless V-neck blouse could be cut at the shoulders and easily shed with her skirt. He placed the cool blade under the blouse against her skin and watched her grow rigid at the feel of the cold metal she couldn't see. He'd love to see how she'd feel about ice play.

“You need to stop,” she hissed, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

He loved a good fight—made her surrender all the more sweeter when he emerged the victor.

“You need to strip, my dear.” The wicked edge of his smile no doubt dripped into his voice. Speaking of dripping, he wanted to feel her wet heat. “I can see how hot you are from the flush of your cheeks to the tips of your ears.”

If anything, her complexion turned even more scarlet...although her jaw tightened. That, he'd like to see working when her lips wrapped around him.

“This should cool you down.” He cut the straps at both shoulders and pocketed the blade. His cock twitched at her shocked gasp—how he wanted to hear her do more than gasp in the throes of passion. It won't be long now... Quickly he dragged the flimsy blouse to skirt level.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. His heart rate spiked at the sight of her flawless skin against the straps of her black lace bra. One layer down, one more to go.

“You do
not
have my consent!” she boomed, recovering from her frozen state and launching into another fruitless struggle against the handcuffs. He had her exactly where he wanted her, helpless and unable to squelch the impending orgasmic release due. He got harder just thinking about her ultimate surrender.

Nope, he didn't need her verbal consent. Not when he was here to give her what she needed, what her body craved.

He unzipped her skirt and let skirt and blouse fall to the floor. The sight of her curvacious buttocks in the matching black lace panties undid him. So did her scent. Her musk and the luscious view of her, handcuffed to her desk, stretched out before him in
her
empire for
his—
no,
their—
pleasure, sent an unexpected rush to his head.
Both
heads.

He grinned and pinned her thighs against the desk, letting her feel his length wedged against her ass. “You smell so good. Your body consents.”

“Is this some game to you?” Mariah growled. “You didn't get answers from me in the boardroom and now you want me to pay by having your way with me?”

Clark shook his head, even though Mariah could not see him. “Sweetheart, I'm not here to fulfill my wants and whims. I'm here to deliver what you need.” He could tell this would go nowhere, if she continued to speak out of line. “What we both need.”

“Hah!”

He dove down to her panties, inhaling her scent with abandon. “You are so wet. I want to eat you.”

Her butt cheeks drew together in an attempt to squeeze him out. Hot damn.

“Goddammit, Clark! You—”

“Good, we're on a first name basis,” he said, retrieving her white blouse before he straightened. He loved her smart mouth, but if she were to enjoy this as much as he would she needed to be quiet and turn her focus inward.

“—You ass!”

“You're going to love my ass.” His lips curled, wringing her blouse into a whip.

“Fuck you!”

“Yes, I
will
fuck you, and I love your ass, too,” he said, flogging her once with the make-shift whip before gagging her with it. “And your sass.”

Whatever she spoke came out in a garbled jumble.

“But one sweet mouth is distracting enough...” He combed through the silk of her hair and stroked down the length of her back, resting on the soft curve of her hips. “...especially when your sweet lips down here are weeping for release.”

Relinquishing the hold on her smooth satin skin, he freed his belt from the loops of his slacks. She stilled at the sound of the buckle and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Let me tell you exactly what I will deliver.”

Her shudder only fueled his lust. Good, she was listening.

“I'm going to give you pain so sweet you won't have words to sass.”

He let the belt buckle trace a path along her back and watched her hands fist in the cuffs.

“I'm going to give you pleasure so good you'll forget your name.”

He ripped off her panties, enjoying the snap as it gave way, and stuffed them in his pocket. Seeing her stiffen made him even more stiff.

“You're going to think my name is Yes, God Yes, or Fuck Yes.”

Her eyes opened and widened at his claim as he began warming her ass with his hands. The globes fit him perfectly. He loved a woman with shape and form.

“I'll have you dripping wet, panting in heat, hungry for cock—
my
cock—like Pavlov's lapdog.”

He cupped her ass and spanked. Hard. She grunted, jolting from the shock or impact.

“And when I'm done with you, you'll equate Clark Mannings to Rough Hot Sex.”

He spanked the other cheek this time. Her shoulders creeped to her ears.

“I'll ruin you so well you won't want any other man, Mariah.”

Leaning in, he reveled in the feel of her curves molded against him. So fucking sweet. God, her softness under all that sass would ruin him. “You're going to hurt so good you won't be able to sit and forget about me all week.”

He blew in her ear, delighting in her shiver. Intoxicating. “Consider yourself taken, sweetheart.”

Whap.
The first sound of his cupped hand blended with her muffled yelp. His cock twitched at the thought of marking her.
Mine.

Whap.
He landed another unrelenting palm on the other butt cheek, drawing another cry from her, and admired the symmetrical beauty on her warmed ass. His palm prints almost looked like the upper set of a butterfly's wings.

Quickly, he added the bottom set of wings. She whimpered from pain and—yes, he smelled it—pleasure. She might not like the pain too much now, but yes, his little butterfly would learn to love the thrill of erotic pain.

“You smell divine,” he said, taking a generous whiff of her sweet aroma. He crouched down and licked her nether lips, watching the moist cleft quiver to his touch. “Mmm. You taste good, too.”

He straightened to admire the palm print handiwork, then rained her with more spankings. Her ass reddened deliciously under his care despite her occasional utterances turned moans.

“Relax,” he said. “Give in to the pain. You'll hurt less.”

Heeding his counsel, she went lax. Good girl. Time for more.

He retrieved his belt and whipped with proper aim and pressure, leaving a welt that would heal without scars. She started but just as quickly relented.

“Good.”

He whipped her some more. Despite her muted yelps and the fine mist gathering at her temple and low back, she took everything he gave her. Her slight change in pitch near the end filled him with a burning need to reward her for her compliance.

“Good girl,” he praised, letting go of the belt. “That spanking took care of one of your infractions.”

Her body stayed slack, perhaps spent in defying him. He rubbed her flushed ass with a liberal amount of aloe.

“You smell incredible,” he murmured. His eyes glazed as he spotted the generous trail of drool sliding down her thighs. A submissive after his own heart. “My god, Mariah, you're a walking wet dream.”

He abandoned the aloe and dove in with his fingers. Her channel was so slick, it swallowed him to the knuckles. “You're so tight, so wet. I want my cock in you.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he learned her. His cock swelled to ginormous proportions, tenting his slacks. Ignoring his need, he continued to plunge into her wet folds and swirl his thumb over her clit on occasion. He listened for the peak of her bliss, watched the rise and fall of her upper back, relished the increased frenzy of her breathing, lusted after the slight tension flitting across her face, devoured the flush of her body, and felt for the imminent tremble of her sex. She was close. So close.

He withdrew, a quirk shaping his lips.

A muffled cry of agitation rent the air before being replaced by the rise and fall of her heavy breathing.

She tried to squeeze her legs together, but he kept them apart.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he warned. “If you try to get yourself off, your remaining infraction doubles.”

She stilled her body, no doubt clenching her teeth from the looks of her bulging jaw.

He smirked, a finger grazing lazily over her labia. “I heard a disgruntled grunt before. Is that how you thank me for pleasuring you?”

He chuckled as her eyes narrowed. If she could see him directly, she'd probably shoot daggers at him. Continuing some lackadaisical swirls around her clit, he said, “You won't get the release you crave until you fully pay for your second infraction. Blink once to say, 'Yes,' that you understand.”

She paused, jaw tightening. Her breathing started to slow.

“If you let more moments pass, I'll detain you even after your release and you'll be late for your three o'clock,” he warned and pinched her clit. Hard.

She winced and grudgingly blinked.

“I'll know you're grateful for the pleasure when you take it without complaint, without backtalk, especially when I withdraw. Blink twice to say, 'Yes, Sir.'”

She paused and gulped.

“Don't make me slap your pussy.” He parted her legs, just in case.

She blinked twice, faster this time. Yes, she was trainable. Good for him.