RICKI

Paul breezed into the office with a small stack of mail and plopped the latest print edition of The Tinseltown Tab in front of me with a smug smile.

There on the front page was a photo from the press conference where Mandy and I had announced the launch of our new company, WOMedia. “Have you paged through it yet?”

“You have to get all the way to page twenty-two before you find the one of you and Axel leaving the jewelry store,” he said.

“Good.” I paged through just to see it. The photo was quite blurry, showing the two of us crossing the street outside the Harry Winston diamond shop in Manhattan. The caption read: Rumors continue to swirl about whether heiress Ricki Hamilton and rock singer Axel Hawke are, or aren’t, Hollywood’s latest power couple. Sources could not confirm whether any rings were purchased on this visit to the “Jeweler to the Stars.”

I reached up to touch my throat without realizing it. While we were in New York we’d gone to Winston’s to get Nana’s diamond choker refitted. I wasn’t wearing it now, of course, but I could almost feel Axel’s fingers, playing along the sensitive places in my neck …

“Ricki. It’s nearly four and you’ve got a party to prep for.” Paul jerked me from my reverie with a reminder.

“Right.” I stood and stretched, then looked under my desk for my sandals. “Have you seen my shoes?”

“I think you came down to the office today in bare feet,” Paul said. “Speaking of which, right now there’s a sale on yoga pants from that all-natural fibers, fair-trade website you like.”

While WOMedia was still young, I was working from home, and I hadn’t put on heels or a blazer once since the press conference. We’d be opening an office soon enough, but right now I was enjoying the freedom. I could start a blog called Yoga Pants CEO. “Is Axel here yet?”

“I believe he’s right outside.”

“Great. Send him in, and you can get out of here. We’re taking tomorrow off, remember. Got hot plans for tonight?”

“Mm-hm. Netflix and take-out sushi,” he said with a smirk. “See you Monday.”

He swanned out and a moment later Axel popped his head in, knocking on the wooden door frame with his knuckles. “Is the boss in?”

I met him halfway across the office with a quick kiss. “No, the boss is most definitely off the clock,” I said.

“Good.” He let the gear bag on his shoulder drop to the floor and he stripped my top over my head before I could take a breath. His thumbs hooked around my nipples and his mouth went to my neck, but he didn’t linger there. His hands slid down my back, under the waistband of my yoga pants, and a moment later I was stepping out of them, entirely naked.

“Mm, Ricki.” He nuzzled the crook between my thigh and body, then stood up, pulling me against him. He was wearing his usual, jeans and a leather jacket, and the zipper of the jacket felt cold against my bare skin. “Are you ready for tonight?”

My heart, which had already sped up to ninety miles an hour when he’d stripped me, skipped a beat. “I think so.”

“You can always give me the sign to stop,” he said. “Do you want to see the ropes I brought?”

“Are they different?”

“Come look.” He knelt down and unzipped the bag.

I knelt down beside him. There were coils and coils of finely made, silky smooth rope. Unlike all the rope we’d been practicing with, which was white, these were in brilliant colors. “Gorgeous.” I picked one up that was scarlet. Under it was purple. “Where did you get these?”

“Sakura has a friend who makes them especially for bondage purposes.”

“Of course she does.” I felt a flutter of excitement. “She’s coming tonight, right?”

“You’re in charge of the guest list for these secret parties, not me,” Axel said with a laugh.

“Well, except there’s no list because if we had a list it could be incriminating, and I’ve had too much going on in my head to remember.”

“Mm-hm. Well, tonight you will have only one thing on your mind.”

“Rope?”

“Pleasing me,” he said sternly, but then cracked a grin. He stood. “Now. If I’m going to have you in a bodysuit for the actual bondage scene that means I better get my fill of your gorgeous body before we go to the dungeon.” He took a quick look around the office. “Bend over the desk. Arms out. Palms flat against it.”

I went to the wide oak desk without hesitation and took the position he’d asked for. That put my face on top of the article about us visiting the diamond shop.

I heard his jacket and trousers drop to the floor.

His hand ran down my buttocks and then teased its way toward my center. One finger worked open the seam and probed gently. “Tsk tsk. Not nearly wet enough for how hard I want to fuck you.” I could feel his erection burning against my leg. “Let’s see if ten spanks on each cheek improves the situation.”

There were no “warm up” swats this time, just ten breath-stealingly painful smacks on my left and then ten on my right, leaving me gasping and writhing against the desk. His fingers slid from my tailbone downward, right into a thick, slick patch of my body’s lubrication.

“That’s better. Oh, Ricki. You’re perfect.”

The next thing I felt was the head of his cock sliding up and down in the wetness. Just when I was considering begging him to put it in, he thrust into me with one forceful stroke. His hands took hold of my hips.

“Now we’re going to take a few steps back from the desk,” he said, and we edged backward. “Use your hands on the desk to give you leverage,” he said. “Your job is to fuck yourself on me until I come.”

“May I point out that we have a party to prepare for?”

“You may, and that’s all the more reason to make it happen fast, Ms. Hamilton. I suggest you squeeze me tight and set a hard rhythm.”

I couldn’t help but squeeze his cock with my insides when he said that and I felt a deep throb of my own arousal spread through me as I did. “Am I allowed to come?”

“If you happen to come while you’re getting me off, that’s fine,” he said casually. “Your one goal is to get your insides coated with my come. Now, go.”

He had braced his feet somehow so I could push myself back against him as hard as I wanted. With my hands on the desk I rocked back and forth, feeling his flesh penetrating deeply into me on each push.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, and I could feel him moving enough to give me a clue to find the right rhythm. “You’re so good. So good.”

When I got the rhythm right, though, he began messing me up by spanking me, which—between how good his cock felt and that—would have guaranteed an orgasm for me if only something were touching my clit. As it was, I felt myself getting closer and closer.

But that made me want to shift to the rhythm that was right for me, not the rhythm that would get Axel off. I felt his fingertips against one of my hips, reminding me of the pace.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good. I concentrated on his pleasure instead of mine and was rewarded when he suddenly grabbed me by both hips and plowed into me for a flurry of quick intense strokes. Then he held still with a groan and I could feel the pumping and twitching of his cock inside me as he came.

He kissed me on the spine while he emptied, then held still until he was completely done, pulling out and letting everything dribble down my legs.

He pushed a finger in and fished around. “Did you come?”

“No, Mr. Hawke.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, Mr. Hawke!”

“Good.” He pulled his hand free. “You can come once I have you suspended in rope tonight.”

I sucked in a breath.

“I know, you’ll be wearing a catsuit and all, but a little fabric isn’t enough to keep you from getting there.” He slapped me playfully on the buttock. “Time to get cleaned up.”

He picked up the bag of ropes and sauntered out without waiting for me, whistling the tune of “Kidnap My Heart.”