Free The Boss's Daughter by Jasmine Haynes Page A

a kid, but not Spencer Benedict the man.
    “Dude, what you need to do is let go and enjoy it.” More sage advice. “You analyze too much. Just let go.” He leaned in, his voice low. “And when you do, it’ll be cataclysmic.”
    “I’m sure it will be,” he said dryly. The problem was their definition of being led around by the dick. Ward didn’t think his was the same as Spence’s. He couldn’t imagine Spence simply sitting back while a woman made him watch as she picked up another man. Or standing in a darkened office like a peeping Tom while some big beefy guy took her from behind. And the blow job? The only reason she’d sucked him off in the car was to prove her power over him. Worse, he’d gotten as hard as concrete block every time. But he wasn’t telling Spence any of that. No freaking way. It was unmanly.
    “Tell me this, do you like the way she makes you feel. Or do you hate it?” Spence sat back as if he’d delivered the coup de grace.
    She made his skin buzz with excitement. He felt alive, on edge. His heart was constantly racing. He was totally in the moment when he was with her. She could make his eyes roll back in his head without even touching him. That first day, he’d wanted to take his cock in his hand and stroke himself till he came all over her. The night with Samson, he’d wanted to hold her head and feed his cock to her while the other guy fucked her. He loved watching the pleasure blossom on her face. He liked her cocky, sexy, self-assured attitude. “Yeah,” he finally said, “I like it a lot.”
    “Then just enjoy it while you have it. That’s what I do. No future, no past, just now. The only thing that counts is if you both like it.”
    He needed to emulate Spence. If he enjoyed it, did it matter that she was using other men to turn him on? If he liked watching and she liked being watched, did it matter that someone else would call him a voyeur or a wimp or a peeper? He’d had the best sex of his life in the last week, and he’d only touched her once. What other woman could he say that about? What other relationship? Not even his wife.
    “You’re thinking hard,” Spence said. “You better come up with the right answer.”
    Ward felt a wry smile grow on his lips. “You know, for a dickhead, you sometimes have a really good idea.”
    Spence buffed his fingernails on his shirt. “Damn right. Now”—he jutted his chin toward the restaurant lobby and their returning customer—“let’s make the sale.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    The following evening Ward found himself watching Cassandra once again. The woman did love making plans for him.
    Tonight she’d chosen a high-end airport hotel. Since it was Friday, there appeared to be fewer business clientele and more vacationers. Even at nine o’clock, the lobby was packed with people checking in and every table in the restaurant was full. With the high ceilings and open floor plan, the noise level made it impossible to make out individual conversations, even when they were going on right next to him.
    Her instructions had been detailed. He was to wear a suit and tie and sit in the bar which was separated from the hotel restaurant by a banquette of potted plants. He found a barstool on the end, putting him high enough above the greenery to be able to see her seated on the other side.
    Tuning out the voices around him and the scent of food, he worked on his beer, wetting his parched throat. Thank God that with all her plans she hadn’t gone so far as to tell him what to drink. He considered Spence’s advice, even if Spence hadn’t known exactly what he was telling Ward to do. Go with it. Enjoy it.
    How could he not enjoy watching her? The fabric peacock- blue dress shimmered in the candlelight flickering on the table. The square neckline dipped low on her bosom, so low that he could almost believe her nipples might pop out. Her breasts were spectacular, hence his parched throat.
    Yes, he enjoyed, but there was still an