Free Seduced by Him (Billionaire Sex Club) by Elle Spencer

Chapter One
    As the purely male form brushed past me, leaning to retrieve
a file from my desk, I inhaled deeply, savoring his scent. The man always
smelled so yummy. Making a scene and taking another huge whiff of him was
exactly what I wanted to do. Somehow I managed to control myself. It was
getting harder and harder. I’d been working for him for eight months. Thirty-two
weeks of being a horny ball of sexual frustration was a long time.
    Jeremy Dermott, CEO of Dermott Holdings, had to be the
sexiest man alive. I couldn’t be too far off in my assessment since he’d
actually made a top-fifty-most-eligible-bachelors list four years running.
Other women had to find him equally as panty wetting as I did. They didn’t work
for him, so they didn’t have to keep that tidbit to themselves.
    Jeremy pressed closer to me, his gray suit material brushed
against the bare portion of my forearm. The man was dressed to impress, or intimidate.
I wasn’t sure which. When others came in and sat across from him while he was
wearing an outfit that cost more than I made in a year, I’m sure it did do
unspoken things to those who wanted to stand up against him business-wise.
    My sheath dress was red. Jeremy seemed to look in my
direction more when I wore the color. I knew it looked good against my pale
skin and that it worked with my dark hair. Since I was trying to catch the eye
of a super-rich and super-powerful guy, I took all the help I could get.
    The notched lapels of Jeremy’s two-button jacket seemed to
pull my gaze to his upper chest. I’d never seen him shirtless, but I had to
believe he was in great shape. It made me slightly self-conscious about myself.
I’m not a fitness buff. The treadmill is as into it as I get and that is only a
couple of times a week. I try to eat right, and by right, I mean only one slice
of cake when I’m craving it instead of two. Unlike my best friend, I didn’t
make hanging out at the gym to pick up men a habit. I didn’t really make
hanging out to pick up men anywhere a habit. Probably why I was single.
    It might have been my imagination, but Jeremy seemed to
linger longer than necessary. Since purring and rubbing against him like a cat
was out of the question and could cost me my job should he take offense, I
focused harder on the report pulled up on my computer screen. Honestly, I had
no idea what it said. At this point it was simply something to look at other
than my boss’s rock-hard body.
    The man who had interviewed and hired me had been seventy if
he was a day. I’d assumed I would be working for him. Turns out, although Mr.
Thomas wore many hats, the title of my boss wasn’t one of them. After eight
months, I still wasn’t completely sure what, exactly, Mr. Thomas’s job
description was, but he seemed to handle a lot of odds and ends for Jeremy.
Things I had found myself taking over slowly.
    Jeremy’s arm muscles bulged against me and I panicked. My
vagina seemed to have one thing on its mind, and that was begging the hunk near
me to fuck it. I wasn’t sure my brain would be fast enough to stop my mouth
from agreeing with my vagina and staging a revolution just to get me laid.
    “I’ll pick up your clothes in the morning.” With a small tempered
sigh, I lowered my gaze. “At the dry cleaners. I’ll pick up your clothes in the
morning before work.”
    He chuckled, his lips close to my ear. “Thank you, but I’ll
have someone else do that.”
    “No. It’s fine. I’m your assistant.”
    “ Ansiley ,” he said, making my name
sound like it should be starring in a porno. “We’ve had this talk before.”
    “What talk, sir?”
    He laughed softly again. “The one where I explain you don’t
have to be nervous around me. I’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want
me to do. And we’ve discussed you calling me Jeremy, not sir.”
    Everyone else in the building referred to him as sir or Mr.
Dermott. I felt better going with the grain instead of against it.