Jennifer Probst - Sex, Lies and Contracts

The world spun. She fought like a maniac for some kind of reality, reminding herself he was a common gardener who was looking for a quick lay. Probably had a million diseases.

“Mr. Wolfe, I want you to leave now.”

“God, you’re cute. Might as well call me Jack.”

“I will not be having sex with my newly hired gardener. I’m not that type of woman.”

His eyes danced with a merry wickedness that made her crave to slap him. “I think that’s exactly your problem. Obviously, you haven’t had an orgasm in a while. Probably why you’re so uptight. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of me while I’m here. I don’t mind.”

“Out. Now. Unless you want me to scream or call the police.”

“Okay.”

Her legs almost buckled with sheer relief at her victory, but then a full male grin transformed his face and he lowered his head.

“I’d like to hear you scream. Don’t panic. I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”

Then his mouth took hers.

Julianna didn’t have a chance. It was the Alamo all over again. Warm, capable lips molded perfectly to hers and with one push, his tongue slipped into her mouth. Like a marauding pirate, he conquered and enjoyed his territory, his hot tongue thrusting in and out in a teasing game before he dove deep and claimed his treasure. She tried to move away, but his fingers gripped the sides of her head in a gentle pressure and kept her still. Over and over he sipped and explored, learning her taste and texture, luring her deeper into a pool of sensation.

His hands coasted down from her head and dipped into the collar of her shirt to caress her breasts. A moan escaped her lips at the delicious sensation of hard male fingers against her sensitive curves. The fabric of her bra was pushed aside as his thumbs manipulated her nipples in a crazy friction that drove her mad. Her hips arched in demand, her control shredded, and her hands clutched at his naked shoulders and dug her nails deep into solid muscle.

“God, you’re a hellcat masquerading as a mouse.” He caught a whimper from her lips and kissed her deeply. “You’re practically burning up in my arms. Come with me.”

He pulled away, took her hand and began leading her out the door. To her bedroom.

To her bedroom.

Reality crashed back and she cried out. She lifted her hands in a half-attempted defense and took a few steps. “Don’t.”

He stopped in his tracks. Slowly turned around. Then cursed under his breath. “I knew I should’ve picked you up. I’m such an ass.”

“I can’t do this.”

One bleached brow lifted. “Why not?”

Julianna shook her head and breathed hard. Her body felt painfully irritated—desperate for sexual relief. In a matter of days, her careful barriers were destroyed because of her desire for a quickie with a man she wanted but did not respect. The truth stumbled out of her mouth in her desperation for distance.

“There are things you don’t know. I can’t have an affair with someone right now. I’m looking for a serious relationship. I want to get married.”

That threw him for a second or two. “To anyone in particular?” he asked slowly.

“Not yet. But I don’t intend to have an affair, not when I could meet my husband tomorrow.”

Another hearty laugh escaped him, which made her frown. “Sweetheart, you may not meet your husband for years. Are you going to lock your body in a prison until then?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m going to meet him soon and I can’t afford to be distracted.” She dug deep and threw her words like weapons. “You’re a nobody. A common gardener with a hard-on who probably bangs every client you find halfway attractive.” She lifted her chin and her gaze raked over his figure with deliberate mocking. “Sure, you’ve got a great body, but I’m not going to mess up my chances of a real marriage with a real man for a quick screw with you.”

Temper gleamed in his eyes, but she forced herself to finish. “I’m going to marry someone with refinement, education and money. God forbid anyone should find out I’ve had an affair with my handyman. So, do I have to ask you again? Keep your hands away from me, or leave.”

The gloves were off and thrown in the figurative ring. He stared at her hard for a few moments, his face unreadable. Then with a mocking grin, he gave a salute. And as if picking up the glove and tucking it in neatly into his pocket, he said, “Yes, ma’am.” He walked with long easy strides right past her and to the door. Then paused. “I’ll be finished by the end of the week.”

The door shut behind him.

Bryce Sinclair settled back on the overstuffed pillows and watched the naked servant girl duck her head in shame. Triumphant satisfaction thrummed through him. “Look at me,” he commanded.

She obediently raised her gaze. He studied her in silence, noting her young skin, silky long hair, and not so innocent mouth still dripping from his explosion. She gave a good blow job—her mouth perfectly tight—but she was still underdeveloped. Her mother had serviced him well only a few hours earlier. The thought of getting them in bed together fluttered past him and he filed it for later use. Young women were such a challenge to break, but once used a few times, the lure of the game tarnished.

“Now go tell your mother what we did together.”

Her mouth fell open and tears gathered in dark depths. “But, but, I can’t! She would kick me out if she knew… you made me! You—"

“I’m done with you.” He waved his hand in disgust. “You were sniffing after me for weeks and I only gave you what you wanted. If you don’t do what I ask, I’ll hurt her again.” Her face transformed into a mask of fear. The power shuddered through him and made him semi-hard. “That’s right,” he said softly. “And you know I’ll do it. In all the places where no one will ever know. And if you both don’t please me, I’ll make sure you have no job at the castle. Or anywhere else.”

A flash of temper shone in her gaze. Bryce watched with interest, but it quickly flared out and she was once again submissive. She left and shut the door behind her, leaving him to his thoughts.

He was so bored.

He reached for his glass of champagne and sipped, enjoying the feel of the satin sheets against his nakedness. In fact, he enjoyed looking at his own body, knowing it was perfection granted him like a gift from the Gods. He knew his dark hair and gray eyes challenged women to unveil the mysteries beneath. He kept his body rock hard with daily workouts and a strict eating regimen. His only downfall was his love of alcohol and the occasional snort of cocaine.

He glanced at his lavish bedroom decorated in rich reds and gold. A room for a king. Unfortunately, he’d never be close as long as his cousin reigned.

Anger burned hot and bright and his fingers tightened against the stem of the glass. Once his dear old uncle finally kicked the bucket, he thought it would finally be over, the endless rivalry to outwit his cousin, only to always be ranked second best. It reminded him of that awful American show, Survivor , where good triumphed even when evil deserved the prize.

There was something going on with Jack. Bryce sensed a rat a football field away. His cousin had disappeared shortly after his father died, and Aunt Victoria refused to elaborate on his whereabouts. Knowledge gleamed in her eyes, but he hadn’t been able to break her yet. Whatever it was, he needed the information. If he made one misstep, the kingdom of Woodward Shipping would never belong to him. And he’d be working for Jack for the rest of his pitiful life.

He’d die before that happened.

Bryce loathed his cousin more than anyone else on the earth. When they were been young, he’d thought they would be allies and rule the world. Instead, his cousin showed a disgusting softness, especially around women. When Jack found him forcing one of their classmates to give him oral sex, his cousin went crazy, threatening to tell everyone in the family and shut him out for good. Bryce’s mother never stood up to Aunt Victoria. He’d been trapped like a wolf around a bunch of sheep, forbidden to feast. Instead, he starved and he learned. He searched for weaknesses and played his games with stealth.