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Intimate Exposure
Ratings:
157 pages2 hours
Summary
From the moment Red Webster arrived at executive Vicki Renard's firm, sparks flew between them. The photographer is supposed to create a company profile for its new owner, but he spends most of his time flirting with her. His sexy teasing infuriates Vicki...and piques a desire to submit to him. His hypnotic eyes promise what she's been secretly craving: a sexually dominant master, like the ones in her favorite erotic novels.
Investigating his new business incognito, billionaire F. W. Shanley-aka Red-is turned on by Vicki's fiery personality and undeniable beauty. When he discovers her reading a BDSM novel on her eReader, he knows he's found a woman who shares his desires and promises to be a challenging submissive.
When Red arranges a weekend at a secluded hotel, Vicki agrees to indulge in no-strings-attached erotic fun. But can she commit to this kind of life with Red when he realizes they can have so much more?
40,000 words
Publisher: Carina PressReleased: Feb 6, 2012ISBN: 9781426893179Format: book
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Intimate Exposure - Portia Da Costa
Author
Chapter One
Watch the birdie!
Caught in the act of reaching over to retrieve her e-reader, Vicki jumped, her heart thudding hard as half the blood in her body seemed to flow into her face and turn it bright blushing pink.
Why, oh why did F. W. Shanley’s tame paparazzo—and her own personal devil—choose this very moment to play his candid camera games? She’d been to a meeting first thing and was rushing through the main office, laden with shoulder bag, briefcase and newspaper, and her nemesis had happened upon her at the exact instant her beloved e-reader had fallen out of the outer pocket of her bag on to the carpet. He seemed to have appeared from nowhere and popped up right behind her as she’d swooped down for the e-reader, presenting her bottom, in her slim gray skirt, as a prime target.
Might as well have pasted a Check Me Out sign on my arse.
Snatching up her prize, Vicki straightened up, squared her shoulders and spun around as gracefully as she could, blending the look of unruffled calm on her face with just a smidge of cool disdain. Pretty effectively, to her mind, apart from the still-raging blush.
Would you be kind enough to delete that one, Mr. Webster. I’m sure it won’t be any good at all for your brochure. I can’t imagine your exalted master and his board of directors will be in the least bit interested in my…my rear end.
Oh, that wicked, arrogant, mocking face. Oh, that grin, that devilish knowing grin. And oh hell, those eyes, those strange piercing eyes. Their color was like fire seen through brandy and they noticed everything. Not just her arse, but the object in her hand. The amused glitter behind the lenses of his elegant metal-framed glasses told her he obviously knew what an e-reader was, and what it was for.
Oh, I don’t know. They might love it. I do. And I bet F. W. would too—might be just his thing.
Red Webster’s voice was deep and husky, and it always sounded as if he was just about to laugh. Well, it did whenever he spoke to her, anyway. Letting his large and elaborate camera drop on its retaining strap, he reached like a flash to whisk the e-reader out of her hand. Hampered by her other belongings, she was powerless to stop him. I’ve got one of these. Great, aren’t they? What are you reading?
No!
But before she could stop him, he’d flicked the power slider, and the secret of her current reading choice was revealed.
Red Webster’s dark eyebrows shot up, and his weird eyes glittered. He whistled.
Outstanding. One of my favorites.
He paused, clicking onto the next page, his tongue sweeping his lower lip as if savoring the taste of her embarrassment. "I might have known you were a Story of O girl."
Give me that!
she snapped, losing her cool despite all her best intentions not to. Others in the open-plan office were now watching their little drama, always happy to be diverted from minutiae of insurance policies and clauses. Lunging forward, shoulder bag swinging dangerously, Vicki grabbed for the reader—but got empty air while the infuriating Red Webster swerved gracefully to one side like a tango king and swept it from her grasp.
You’ve got to ask nicely,
he replied, a smirk of pure mirth on his bearded face as he clicked through the pages as if speed-reading. His curious eyes gleamed. Or perhaps you could get down on your knees and beg me for it? Judging by your choice of downloads, it looks like you might actually enjoy a bit of groveling.
Vicki took a shallow calming breath. Don’t be absurd, Mr. Webster,
she said as lightly as she could, fabricating that unconcerned smile again. She must not let him rattle her.
But something in her tone gave her away. His eyes had been bright before but now they were ablaze, their heat immobilizing her as he stared down at her. Vicki felt sweat pop out along her hairline—and elsewhere—as the moment stretched between them like a tightening wire. More interested faces turned towards them in their immediate area and beyond.
In a very short space of time it’d become common knowledge that she and the visiting photographer didn’t exactly get on, and it seemed that everyone was hoping for a ruckus. People at Wickham-Drake loved such confrontations. Even the smallest spat broke up the routine of office life, with its hours of staring at their PCs, hammering out reports and dealing with the never-ending succession of phone calls.
"But I’m not being absurd. Why else would you own a book like The Story of O if the subject material didn’t interest you?"
Look, you, why don’t you just descend into your fiery lair…or alternatively, just go away.
The words were silent but she had no doubt that the dark, imposing man in front of her still heard them.
I read all sorts of books, Mr. Webster, and this one just happened to be at a special low price at the moment.
The effort of looking serene made her skin feel tight, as if she’d had a face pack on too long, but when she reached out again for the e-reader, he finally returned it to her. Their fingertips touched for split second and a sizzle of raw electricity seemed to spit at the point of contact.
Vicki suppressed a gasp, hastily stuffing the e-reader and the paper into her shoulder bag, then sliding both that and her briefcase in front of herself protectively.
But she couldn’t protect herself from her imagination. It was as if Red Webster’s touch had triggered a slide show. On the screen of her mind, she saw images. Of herself with this perverse man, kneeling before him as he towered over her, immensely tall and powerful. Kissing his hand, abasing herself even lower, her lips pressed to the surface of his polished riding boot.
Even as the preposterous image flicked out of existence, her sex quickened, hot and full of need.
No!
Are you all right, Vicki?
His low and already familiar voice was teasing, yet at the same time he sounded concerned. As if he was worried by her sudden fugue and was a kind man beneath all the flirtation. When she dropped back into the real world again, Red Webster was still staring at her, those fiendish, almost unnatural lights dancing in his eyes. Once again, it seemed he could see what she saw, read her thoughts.
I’m perfectly fine, thank you, Mr. Webster.
She gave him another firm look. Have you deleted that shot yet?
Solid black-clad shoulders shrugged, and he gave her a wide admiring smile, clearly enjoying her badly disguised antagonism.
For God’s sake, don’t do that, she thought, alarmed all over again at the effect that even white teeth and firm sensual lips framed in a neat, dark, piratical beard seemed to have on her. Even when he was faking being nice to her, he was a goad and a challenge.
Get lost, you’re not my type. Leave me alone.
She got hotter and hotter as he pressed a series of deft commands on the camera’s control panel. His hands were elegant, but they were large, and he was barely looking at what he was doing. He knew his equipment by pure instinct.
What else came instinctively to those clever, sturdy fingertips?
Panic assailed her along with new mind pictures. She had to get away from Red Webster right now. Or make him get away from her. And yet she moved closer as he held out the camera for her inspection and flicked through the last series of shots on its bright LCD screen.
All was routine. Just photos of the room they were standing in and others much like it. Some shots of architectural features, the unnoticed beauties of the fine old building, hinting at what it had been before it’d been converted to offices. Shots of people busy in their cubicles. People chatting. People using their computers, maybe a bit fed up of the humdrum routine, but basically fairly content with their lots. Which she was, usually, when she wasn’t fending off the attentions of a large, sexy and distinctly mischievous man who seemed to have taken a fancy to her.
Okay.
She gave him a curt nod, hoping it would dismiss him and she could be off to her own office at the end of the room—the little box that was her perk as a section leader. But Red Webster remained where he stood, lifting the camera to his eyes, making an adjustment, and firing off a run of shots of the general work area around them.
She was compelled to speak, even though she knew it would just encourage him to linger.
Why do you need so many pictures, anyway? How many illustrations does one simple little review need? You don’t think Shanley’s planning to sell the company on again when he’s only just bought it, do you?
What precisely did Red Webster know about F. W. Shanley III, the new owner of Wickham-Drake, the insurance company for which she worked? After all, he must have met the big cheese when he’d been given his photographic brief. Or maybe he’s planning to shift us all to some glass-and-concrete block on a commercial estate and remodel this building as his own personal palace?
Those dark-bright eyes that plagued her so much took on a sudden shuttered look.
The bastard, he does know something.
And yet when the answer came it was bland, noncommittal.
I couldn’t say. I’m only here to take photographs of the people and the building and do the art design for the report. F. W. likes to have something informative to show the global board when he makes an acquisition, with plenty of pretty pictures in case they can’t read.
He dropped her a wink behind his spectacles, suggesting that he held exactly the same views she did about plutocratic business mandarins.
Well, maybe if you didn’t loiter around here as much and took photographs elsewhere, you’d have a more representative selection to amuse them. And you wouldn’t be interrupting those of us who have more worthwhile things to do.
No, why did I say that? Goddamn it.
Worthwhile?
His eyes narrowed, and there was nothing at all bland about his expression now. It was intense, complex, challenging. He seemed to be asking questions of her on some level that was way beyond verbal. Beyond conscious thought, even. But her body knew, and she was horrified to find it answering.
No! she cried again, but silently, as everything about her stirred. The tips of her breasts prickled against the lace of her bra, and down below, her pussy seemed to ready itself to receive Red Webster’s cock. His decidedly sizable cock. She knew he was big because she’d surreptitiously checked him out when he’d been chatting up someone else at the entrance to a nearby cubicle. His black jeans fit as snugly as sin and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.
No, no…don’t do this.
Yet her own eyes no longer seemed to be under the control of her brain, and her gaze drifted down towards the crotch area of his jeans.
His package looked solid and promising. Dear God, he might even be semierect right now. In the split second while she waited for him to continue his verbal goading, her head filled with pictures again. Pictures of herself kneeling before him and waiting for permission to uncover his magnificent penis and take it respectfully into her mouth.
Yes, worthwhile,
she answered crisply, exerting a stringent effort of self-control to banish the outrageous images. "Everyone here is committed to hard work on behalf of our sections and divisions and the invisible control freak. He might be a new boss to us, but we’re all still working just as hard as ever."
Red Webster didn’t answer for a few seconds but just looked at her, his glowing eyes steady behind his elegant glasses. His face was straight and his body calm, but Vicki knew without a doubt that everything else
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