Hostile Takeover by Joey W. Hill Page A

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 cups, he curved his palms over them, squeezed to make her breasts swell up over the neckline. Leaning in, he inhaled that powdered donut and coffee smell. Then he licked away the sugar. She strangled on a breath as he took his time with it, tracing a pattern on her quivering skin. He was tempted to dip down into the bra cup, find her nipple with the curl of his tongue, but he reined himself back. She was swaying on her heels when he sat back, savoring the taste of sugar on his tongue. “Fix your blouse, Marcie.”
    He was satisfied to see her a little dazed and fumbling. “Sounds like you have a full day ahead,” he commented casually. “Everything you’re doing is fine. Have those three documents on my desk by day end for review.”
    “Yes sir.” A flick of those lashes showed him a quick glimpse of her bemused eyes before she lowered them. When she backed out of the space, she’d recovered enough to add even more of a fuck-me-now sway to that mouthwatering backside, though he noticed she was a little wobbly on her heels. The combination made him hard as a rock. Might be good he was spending most of the day offsite, or he’d be in excruciating pain by lunchtime.
    “That skirt’s so tight there can’t be any panties under it.”
    She glanced over her shoulder, her brow lifting. The sparkle was back in her gaze. “It would ruin the line of the skirt over my absolutely perfect ass, don’t you think?”
    “Behave,” he reminded her. “Or else you’ll get that ass smacked, and it won’t be pleasant.”
    Her lips curved, completely unrepentant. He had the urge to grin at her like a feral wolf. Jesus, he was losing his mind. He was mentoring her. That was what this was. He’d told her as much yesterday. Or rather, he’d told her he’d think about it. He’d also told her to cut this shit out in the office. It wasn’t like him to send mixed signals, and with an already difficult, headstrong sub, that was a recipe for trouble. Of course, with the heat boiling in his balls, he was working his way up to craving some serious trouble.
    “Mr. Kensington, Mr. Adler.” Composed now, at least on the surface, she smiled as Matt and Lucas came into Ben’s area, ready to head offsite with him.
    Yeah, just as soon as I get rid of this raging hard-on.
    Lucas gave her a snort, a lifted brow. “Mr. Adler?”
    “We’re in a professional office environment.” Marcie gave him a cheeky grin. “I have to behave. Ben says so.”
    “Well, there’s a first for everything.” Lucas looked toward Ben. “It must be a trick. I’ve never known you to be a good influence on anyone. Especially an impressionable young girl.”
    Was he really that bad? He bit back a scowl at the second reference to his dark reputation in less than a day. Jesus, you’d think he raided convents.
    “Woman,” Marcie said, an edge to her voice. When Lucas glanced back at her, she held onto that polite mask, but her next words were a direct, kick-in-the-balls contrast. “C-cup, vibrator in my nightstand drawer, and I can drink you under the table in tequila shots.”
    Okay, so maybe that one was his fault. He’d revved her up not only with the sugar thing, but with what had happened yesterday. Though the look on Lucas’ face was worth money, another instinct took precedence