Hostile Takeover by Hill, W (best novels to read for students .TXT) 📕

exploring the way of it. It might make sense to take her to a club, show her the ropes—figuratively, not literally—give her some tips, guide her. Maybe even facilitate a pairing with a young Dom he trusted to help guide her. Then he’d leave it there, let her continue her life’s journey.

Shit, and maybe he’d go live in a swamp like Yoda, Great Jedi Master, content with what he’d taught his student. Go forth, young Grasshopper. What a load of bullshit. He rubbed a hand over his face. His cock was still settling, but the slightest provocation would have it at the ready again. He could jerk off in the bathroom, but he didn’t trust himself with her this close. Hell, he didn’t trust her. She wanted to suck him off. He’d given her a wrenching orgasm, and within seconds her eyes had been back on his cock, because she hadn’t done what a sub needed to do to feel complete. She hadn’t serviced her Master.

It was his own fault. When he’d yanked her into the bathroom, he’d let the Master take over, responding to her exactly as he would a sub displaying that kind of behavior. Trouble was, she’d more than held her own. He wanted to berate himself for an error in judgment, but the problem was, it didn’t feel that way.

It didn’t matter. Bottom line, he couldn’t do this. She might get exactly what she was asking for. There was a reason he chose experienced, hardcore subs, ones well-trained in extreme submission. He liked cracking those hard nuts, finding the inner core they thought was impregnable, and taking it to an even deeper level. He was after a woman’s soul. That was the challenge when he did a scene. But after that mission was accomplished, he let go of the soul, as easy and gentle as he’d been hard and ruthless when pulling it out of its fortress. He had no desire to keep it for his own.

You’re a conqueror. You conquer and move on, never finding true contentment. Jon’s words of course.

He needed to be the adult here. A thirteen-year-old’s maturity or not—he was so getting even with Jon for that one—he was going to rein himself back.

* * * * *

The problem was Marcie had no appreciation for his restraint.

Mini-cake donuts covered with white powdered sugar, fresh from the local bakery, were one of his favorite indulgences. Apparently Alice had told Marcie that, because the next morning she arrived with a box. He detected the aroma the moment she set it down on her desk, along with a coffee for him. Glancing up from his laptop, he saw she’d worn a longer skirt today, but it held her tight from waist to just below the knee, with a little flare to the skirt at the bottom when she walked.

He’d seen Cass wear a similar style, and it made Lucas just as batshit as Ben felt now. It triggered something in an alpha male, seeing a woman wearing something sexy that also hampered her movement, making her easier prey to catch. It also gave her a hell of a walk, lots of shifting curves and provocative movement.

She wore a scoop-necked shell blouse in a pale tan color. No necklace, but simple silver earrings. Was she keeping her neck bare on purpose, cognizant he still held her collar? He wouldn’t put it past her.

“Good morning.” She paused at the door, giving him a smile. She was holding his coffee and two of the donuts on a napkin. When he met her gaze, acknowledging her, she lowered her lashes, sending a shot straight to his groin. As she crossed his carpet, her heel hooked one of the fibers, putting a brief hitch in her step. She stopped, lifted it free carefully to make sure she wasn’t taking any fibers with her, then she was on the move again.

When she rounded his desk to set the coffee and donuts next to his elbow, he saw some of the sugar had gotten on her breast during that jerk in her step. It was right above the scoop neckline. When she bent to put the donuts and coffee down, the blouse shifted, giving him a brief glimpse down the front, to the barely there bra that seemed to be a lot of lace and sheer tan mesh.

It wasn’t one of her calculated tricks, not this morning. She seemed oblivious to the sugar, was already talking about the day’s work. He’d left her a shitload to get done yesterday, not holding back in the least. Part of it was him wanting to do right by her, give her the most out of her internship, because she did take the job seriously and the opportunities and experience it could provide her. His other hope was that the work would keep her out of trouble. Off car hoods.

Right now, giving him a status on the work she’d finished, she was obeying him to the letter. A hundred percent professional, going a hundred miles a minute. While that white powder was teasing him like crack to an addict, stark and tempting against the curve of flesh.

He had a full plate today. He’d be out of the office at a meeting with Matt and Lucas for most of it. No time to play. But there was always time for the important things.

Touching the remote on his desk, he heard the door swing close and lock, but he kept his eyes on her. She stopped in mid-sentence, brown eyes widening as he turned his chair toward her, set his hands to her waist and brought her between his knees. She was still holding the hot coffee.

“Put it down on the desk,” he ordered. She complied, her simple obedience a sweet drug. Pulling the blouse free from her waistband, he slid his hands beneath it, along that soft skin. She kept her hands lifted, clear, so there was no impediment to what he wanted.

When he reached the bra