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BOOTY CALL by FIONA JAYDE

Copyright © FIONA JAYDE, 2009
All Rights Reserved, RED SAGE PUBLISHING, INC

 

EXCERPT FROM BOOTY CALL

 

She’d finally found the balls to quit.

“You’re sure about this?” Dan’s smooth, somber voice sent shivers
sent down her back. As always, she refused to acknowledge the reaction.

She wondered what her characters would do in this case. Maybe knock the disks and papers off his desk and make him fuck her, here, right now.

Right on his desk.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She pushed away the image of his face between her legs, his mouth on her, working her to orgasm. As always, Nicole clenched her muscles at the empty pleasure pulsing between her thighs and simply tucked the thought away for later when the laptop waited, fired up and ready, and busy fingers twisted thoughts and feelings into another story.

“You aren’t telling me why.”

For now she kept twisting her ring. She didn’t normally wear the square cut red stone in a plain gold setting, meant for courage, luck and passion. She’d bought it when her first book hit Borders, from an old, smiling woman at a kiosk downstairs. A ruby for Rubina Red. Her author name and alter ego.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said.

“Try me.”

Christ, he looked gorgeous sprawling behind that desk. Three monitors, computer parts and stacks of papers crowded the wide, light surface, and once again Nic found herself wondering at his reaction if she pushed all of that shit onto the floor on her way up towards his mouth. Five years working with him and still she couldn’t help but stare. Dark hair, dark eyes, a slash of lips that seemed both sensual and cruel.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on.” He leaned back in his chair before crossing his impressive
muscled arms across his massive chest.

She loved a man in jeans and T-shirts. He usually wore suits in business meetings, but Christ, looking like this, with simple black cotton stretching all over that ripped chest. She had to bite her lip to keep from drooling. She wanted to vault over the three monitors on that wide desk and bite him—at least once. Her characters certainly would. Nicole Lang, Director of Client Relations, never did anything unprofessional. Except writing erotic romance and fantasizing about her boss.

Nic twisted her ring again. “Trust me. You really don’t want to know.”

She watched him lift an eyebrow. “Oh, I really do. You’re running a porn website?”

“Close enough.”

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