Free Hostile Takeover by Joey W. Hill

was so thin it allowed that subtle effect, while keeping those heavy breasts up nice and high.
    His hard-on wasn’t abating in the least. She was wearing the heels she’d worn on his car, the little tease. Two sets of buckles, so she’d included the restraints, which yanked his mind right to the image of bending her over her desk, spreading her legs out wide and binding her ankles to the desk legs. He’d fuck her, then make her do her work in that bent-over position while he enjoyed the view from his desk.
    Janet might have a few words to say about that. So would Matt. As for Lucas…hell.
    He pulled his attention away from Marcie, though he could smell her unique fragrance. She’d probably shaken Don’s hand, leaving a lingering scent on his palm. He gave Don some answers, asked a few questions of his own, which sent the man riffling through papers again. It left Ben free to shift his gaze back to the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.
    Weren’t you supposed to stay on the other side of that line, you prick?
    Marcie was studying her laptop, but as if she felt his regard, she lifted those lashes. He caught the familiar moistening of her bottom lip, that involuntary tell of vulnerability, of possible uncertainty, as if she was weighing a decision. But then the decision was made. Like a flipped switch, her expression became hot, focused, challenging. With a surreptitious glance toward Don, she slipped her hand back down to her thigh, fingers following the silken surface of the stocking. Pushing under one of the front overlapping slits in the skirt, she traced the nylon up, up, into the dark shadows of the skirt fabric. Her fingers moved over, down, her knees parting. Biting her lip, she lifted her chin in reaction as she obviously found her pussy, stroked.
    To someone coming down the hall, it would appear she was still working on her computer, but beneath the desk, where he could see, she was getting more stimulated, her movements a little more jerky. Which meant she’d been hot and worked up when she put her hand down there. Given that she’d come into work with a battle plan to drive him insane, he wasn’t surprised. Her pussy was probably so slick and ready for his cock he could just cross the room, shove her against the wall and slam into her like a torpedo chamber ready to fire.
    She kept her hot gaze on him, with those occasional maddening little flicks toward Don. If he looked left, he’d get the same view Ben was getting. Then Ben would have to kill him.
    Something broke inside him. No, not broke. That was entirely the wrong word. He found his footing, something kicking in that was much stronger than concerns about Lucas and Cass, about inappropriate or appropriate behavior on his part. It was the feeling he had right before he entered one of Matt’s volatile acquisition meetings. Foot in the stirrup, ass on the warhorse, lance in hand, no entendre intended. Decision made.
    The whiskey and damn indecision from last night disappeared. He knew how to handle this situation. Misbehaving subs, those who stepped out of line, were his particular area of expertise. His craving.
    “Is that all you needed, Don? All right then, I’ll have my intern fax over…”
    He dealt with Don with courtesy, showed him out the door, using iron discipline to keep his cock from straining at the end of its chain. Marcie had of course returned both hands to her keyboard, her skirt smoothed back over her thighs. She rose, smiling. Nodding to Don, she reached out to grip his hand when the man offered his. She was going to touch him with the hand she’d had on her pussy, leave that scent on his fingers. From the calculated look in her gaze, Ben knew she intended it.
    He stepped between them, though it wasn’t a wide space. While Don looked a little startled by the abrupt intervention, Ben ironed it out with some further BS about the documents he needed. As Don responded, Marcie’s fingers brushed Ben’s back, the line of