This hot adult romance novelette is for readers 18 and older ONLY.
She’s in over her head…
Unemployed reporter Chelsea Parker, desperate for a celebrity interview, didn’t exactly lie when billionaire property developer Gunner Roarke mistook her for his new assistant. But she didn’t correct him, either.
And about to get in even deeper…
Completely unprepared, Chelsea’s just about the worst assistant ever. Now she’s trapped on a private jet with him and flying cross-country…and he’s just discovered the truth. She knows she’s in trouble – but she has no idea how much trouble until he bends her over his knee and administers a punishment that leaves her craving more.
When they land, shocked and embarrassed at her wanton response to him, she rushes away – but she soon finds that Gunner’s far from finished with his “punishment” of the hot little reporter who sets his senses on fire in a way that he’s never felt before.
He was only inches from me. Towering over me, looking down at me. He had me backed up against the seat; I couldn’t escape.
Behind him, through the window, I caught a glimpse of puffy white clouds against a blue sky. We were miles from the Earth, alone in the cabin. His eyes were dark and stormy and he was looking at me with…hunger? Desire? Could it be?
I couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. I felt naked and exposed before him, and he seemed to be savoring it.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m fired?” I stammered.
He laughed, a cruel smile spreading across his handsome face. “Oh no, that would be letting you off much too easily. You will continue to work with me. In fact, you’ll be working very closely with me. Directly under me, you might say.”
He reached down and hooked his fingers underneath the bottom of my camisole and peeled it off me, lifting it over my head, and gently draping it over the arm of one of the chairs. Now I was standing before him in my lacy pink pushup bra, and I felt a lightning storm of desire swelling and crackling inside me.
“You’ll want to let that dry,” he said.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “I like it when you call me sir,” he murmured.
Oh, God. The hairs on my arms stood up. My heart beat like a jackhammer against my ribcage.
He reached behind my head and untied the black lace bow that I’d tied around my hair bun. Then, to my shock, he grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around until I stood with my back to him.
And he quickly tied the bow around my eyes like a blindfold. Then he placed his large, strong hands on my waist and slowly ran them up my back, thumbs pressing into my skin, until he reached my brassiere, which he unhooked and slid off me. He reached forward and cupped my small, round breasts in his hand, thumbs circling my nipples.
With my vision gone, all of my other senses were heightened. Every nerve in my body came alive, and the sensation of his hands on my heated flesh was sweet torment.
- Isabel King, September 2012
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