much.”
“Believe me,” she says. “Working with these guys,
you’ll earn it.”
I hold the bill up to Ryder. “Like what you see?” I say
as I put it in my front jeans pocket, my tank top rising up slightly,
baring the top of my hip, his eyes on my naked skin.
I can feel them follow me even as I head back onto the floor, and
just as I’m about to introduce myself to a table full of
good-looking, noisy guys crammed into a booth together, I feel a hand
on my waist and warm breath in my ear. “My office. Now,”
Ryder whispers, his voice cutting through the din of the bar like a
warm knife through a soft peach.
“I thought you wanted me to take orders,” I say,
adrenaline surging through me.
“I do,” he says. “Mine.” He holds my wrist as
he leads me through the crowd, to the hallway past the bar, into his
office.
CASSIE
CH. 10
With
the door shut, the office is dark, but the blinds are open a little,
enough to let in some light from the street outside, light that
outlines Ryder’s tall, sturdy body standing in front of me. I
lean back on my hands against the front of the desk. “My
customers are probably parched,” I say.
“They’ll survive.” He puts his hands on top of
mine, letting the weight of his body fall into me.
I look up at him, my heart pounding against my chest like a fist at
the nearness of him, at the sensation of him restraining me. “I’m
just trying to do as I was told,” I say. “You said we
were here to work.”
“I’m the boss,” he says, “You’re here
to do whatever I want whenever I want.” His mouth brushes my
neck as he speaks, making every muscle in my body weaken.
“And what do you want right now?”
“You,” he says. “To shut.” His lips skim down
my neck, across my collarbone. “The fuck up.”
“Such language,” I say. “You kiss your mother with
that mouth?”
He raises his face to mine. “I kiss everything with this
mouth.”
In the dim light, I watch as he draws his lips, slightly open but not
puckered, in exploration along the tops of my breasts raised up and
out of my tank top. His mouth moves up my arm, my shoulder. Overcome
with the need to touch his soft, thick hair as it gently tickles my
skin, I try to lift my hands from under his, but he presses his
weight more firmly on me, circling my wrists in his fingers.
His lips crush into mine, our tongues stroking against each other as
he pushes his body into me, and I can feel his hardness through his
jeans pressing against the warmth between my legs as I spread them to
either side of his.
He
catches my bottom lip between his teeth, the nip of pain sending
ripples of pleasure directly to my center. Removing one hand from
mine, he cups my breast over the thin fabric of my top, my nipple
hard between his fingertips as he caresses it, the motion so slow yet
making everything in my body feel sped up, like time-lapsed movement.
One
hand finally free, I grab his arm, feel the firmness of his bicep. I
let my hand drift to his shirt buttons, which I manage to undo—not
an easy task one-handed and completely distracted. I let my fingers
run down the hard smoothness of his chest, his bare skin bathed in
the soft streetlight.
He
takes my hand from his torso and moves it the top of my jeans. “Take
off your jeans,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Unless you want to stop.” He smirks,
and I shake my head. Stopping is the last thing on my mind right now.
He releases my other hand and I work open the button of my jeans
with impatient fingers, sliding down the zipper and pushing them to
my hips. I reach for the stiffness outlined in his jeans, rubbing my
palm against it, gliding my fingers up and down his fly as I start to
undo his button.
“Not me,” he says, removing my hand from his hard-on and
lifting me so I’m sitting on the desk. He slides off my shoes,
the high heels banging the hardwood as they drop to the floor, then
strips my jeans off me one leg at a
“Believe me,” she says. “Working with these guys,
you’ll earn it.”
I hold the bill up to Ryder. “Like what you see?” I say
as I put it in my front jeans pocket, my tank top rising up slightly,
baring the top of my hip, his eyes on my naked skin.
I can feel them follow me even as I head back onto the floor, and
just as I’m about to introduce myself to a table full of
good-looking, noisy guys crammed into a booth together, I feel a hand
on my waist and warm breath in my ear. “My office. Now,”
Ryder whispers, his voice cutting through the din of the bar like a
warm knife through a soft peach.
“I thought you wanted me to take orders,” I say,
adrenaline surging through me.
“I do,” he says. “Mine.” He holds my wrist as
he leads me through the crowd, to the hallway past the bar, into his
office.
CASSIE
CH. 10
With
the door shut, the office is dark, but the blinds are open a little,
enough to let in some light from the street outside, light that
outlines Ryder’s tall, sturdy body standing in front of me. I
lean back on my hands against the front of the desk. “My
customers are probably parched,” I say.
“They’ll survive.” He puts his hands on top of
mine, letting the weight of his body fall into me.
I look up at him, my heart pounding against my chest like a fist at
the nearness of him, at the sensation of him restraining me. “I’m
just trying to do as I was told,” I say. “You said we
were here to work.”
“I’m the boss,” he says, “You’re here
to do whatever I want whenever I want.” His mouth brushes my
neck as he speaks, making every muscle in my body weaken.
“And what do you want right now?”
“You,” he says. “To shut.” His lips skim down
my neck, across my collarbone. “The fuck up.”
“Such language,” I say. “You kiss your mother with
that mouth?”
He raises his face to mine. “I kiss everything with this
mouth.”
In the dim light, I watch as he draws his lips, slightly open but not
puckered, in exploration along the tops of my breasts raised up and
out of my tank top. His mouth moves up my arm, my shoulder. Overcome
with the need to touch his soft, thick hair as it gently tickles my
skin, I try to lift my hands from under his, but he presses his
weight more firmly on me, circling my wrists in his fingers.
His lips crush into mine, our tongues stroking against each other as
he pushes his body into me, and I can feel his hardness through his
jeans pressing against the warmth between my legs as I spread them to
either side of his.
He
catches my bottom lip between his teeth, the nip of pain sending
ripples of pleasure directly to my center. Removing one hand from
mine, he cups my breast over the thin fabric of my top, my nipple
hard between his fingertips as he caresses it, the motion so slow yet
making everything in my body feel sped up, like time-lapsed movement.
One
hand finally free, I grab his arm, feel the firmness of his bicep. I
let my hand drift to his shirt buttons, which I manage to undo—not
an easy task one-handed and completely distracted. I let my fingers
run down the hard smoothness of his chest, his bare skin bathed in
the soft streetlight.
He
takes my hand from his torso and moves it the top of my jeans. “Take
off your jeans,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Unless you want to stop.” He smirks,
and I shake my head. Stopping is the last thing on my mind right now.
He releases my other hand and I work open the button of my jeans
with impatient fingers, sliding down the zipper and pushing them to
my hips. I reach for the stiffness outlined in his jeans, rubbing my
palm against it, gliding my fingers up and down his fly as I start to
undo his button.
“Not me,” he says, removing my hand from his hard-on and
lifting me so I’m sitting on the desk. He slides off my shoes,
the high heels banging the hardwood as they drop to the floor, then
strips my jeans off me one leg at a
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