Embraced By Passion

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Authors: Diana DeRicci

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BOOK: Embraced By Passion
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Embraced By Passion

Diana DeRicci

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

 

EMBRACED BY PASSION

Copyright © 2010 DIANA DERICCI.

ISBN 978-1-936165-48-3

Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah

Photographs Copyright Vgstudio, Les3photo8,
Patrik Ruži
, Dreamstime.com

Edited By Traci Markou

Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC

www.PurpleSword.com

 

 

 

For Selena and Michelle.

 

 

Chapter One

 

Ja’Rol slammed open Slone’s mahogany double doors. “Traci just quit!” His entrance didn’t seem to register with the man behind the desk. “I said—”

“I heard you.” Slone typed without pause. “Please shut the doors. Now everyone three floors above and below knows our situation.”

Ja’Rol harrumphed but did as his business partner, best friend, and lover asked. With the doors closed and locked behind him, he cleared the ocean of space to reach the desk. Large tinted windows delivered a breathtaking view of the city view behind Slone, if he even knew it was there. The man worked like a dog once he was inside these offices.

Plush with leather, wood, and thick carpet, the room was filled with every modern convenience from a large screen TV to an espresso machine. There were the prerequisite chairs and a side lounger for the longer afternoons into nights. Essentially an office with real muscle. Slone worked tireless hours on keeping Tube-Nautics running flawlessly. And when he couldn’t, Ja’Rol picked up the slack and filled in the gaps.

Walking to the coffee maker—a regular counter-sized one—he filled a mug and dumped a three-count of hazelnut creamer into it. After a stir and a sip, he declared it perfect and turned.

“What are we going to do about Traci?”

“I imagine find a replacement,” Slone replied, still distracted by his computer.

Frustrated at being ignored, Ja’Rol played dirty to get his lover’s attention. Envisioning them both naked, he knelt in front of Slone, toying with his massive cock between teasing lips. He almost purred himself as the image filled his vision.

Slone snapped up and glared. “Ja’Rol!”

“Yes?” he answered in all innocence. Slone’s color rose as the image took on an active life. Leaning on a nearby bookcase, Ja’Rol crossed his ankles to enjoy his coffee. And Slone’s reactions. His lashes lowered, unobtrusively relishing the effect he had on Slone. “Something the matter?”

Just as Ja’Rol’s imagination took Slone’s heavy length into his mouth, Slone growled a needy groan.

“Do I have your attention now?” he asked as disinterested as possible, though his own body was beginning to throb with the want he’d dared to stir.

“Shit,” Slone hissed. Sitting in his chair, he slouched back, adjusting the pulsing ridge in his slacks. “See what you did?”

Discovering the adamant need Ja’Rol licked his lips, tasting the coffee, but wanting to taste something else entirely. Letting out a repentant sigh, he said, “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that. But damn, man. Pay attention sometimes. This is serious.
Traci left.

“Where did she go?”

Finally, interest. “She is moving with her fiancé halfway across the state. Nothing I said kept her here.”

“Are you worried she’ll talk?”

Ja’Rol waved a hand. “No, she’s not like that. The non-disclosure was practically a formality with her. No telling whose other secrets she carries from around here.” Glancing toward Slone, he added, “She knew about us.”

“Being gay?”

“Being wyvern.”

Slone blinked and froze. “How?” Ice could have formed on the glass behind where he sat, the air chilled so quickly.

“She saw us return to the penthouse after flying. She’s rarely in that early in the morning, but she’d said she couldn’t sleep and knew it was something here keeping her up. So she came in early. Very early. She said that it just didn’t matter. We were good bosses, excellent employers, and she’d sell her mother to stay, but she wouldn’t sell her fiancé.”

“How long has she known?” Slone’s voice had gone deathly calm, weighing the need to keep their identity secret.

“Let me see,” he mused. “Almost five years now.” Though neither man looked a day over thirty, five years to them was barely more than a blink of an eye in time. Tube-Nautics was actually their fifth enterprise together.

“And you never thought to tell me?” Slone roared, slapping his desk.

Ja’Rol shook his head. “No, she told me how long she’s known when she gave her resignation about an hour ago.” He sipped his coffee. “Honestly, she’s not some young thing looking to exploit us. She’s a fifty year old divorcé who has a second chance to live again. She wasn’t going to let the fact that two wyverns are her bosses screw that up.”

Slone glowered at him, and Ja’Rol had the urge to clear his throat. “We talked a lot.”

“Obviously,” Slone responded with a droll tone and a glare. “Anything else you haven’t told me? Anything else you two talked about that will give me heart failure?”

Ja’Rol hid his grin behind his cup. When Slone started sassing, Ja’Rol knew it would be all right. There had been some concern telling Slone someone knew their secret, but after talking to Traci, after being
floored
that she’d known for so long and never blinked an eye or changed her work habits or treated them any differently, he knew it would be okay in the end.

Then he frowned. “But how are we going to replace her? And with who?”

“Run an ad?”

For some reason, Ja’Rol wasn’t keen on that. Who knew what kind of nuts would try to get into one of the city’s largest, and most acclaimed aeronautical engineering and design corporations to discover internal secrets? The world’s leaders might be smiling when they talk in the same room, but they still passed notes like kids in school. The last thing either man wanted was one of their prototype testers being bastardized into some new war machine.

“What about someone in-house?”

Ja’Rol finished his coffee, catching the last of the hot, sweetened brew. He wanted another, but he’d already had two for the morning, one more than his usual limit. Caffeine made him horny. He could control it, but if he wasn’t careful, Slone would be flat on his back. Probably why he’d been so quick to tease the other man with a visual blowjob.

With a sigh, he set the mug down and walked away.

“You could always switch to decaffeinated,” Slone offered knowingly, an understanding glint in his gaze. His eyes were extraordinary. One, a solid light pale green, the other a peridot-sapphire blend that blew Ja’Rol’s mind.

Ja’Rol smiled. Now that he’d poked into his head, Slone was probably sitting in his thoughts. “I’ll live. Besides, I like the rush. I know what it’ll do.”

“You’re a caffeine druggy,” Slone accused with a tenor laugh.

He only shrugged not bothering to deny it, then sat in one of the thick padded leather chairs in front of his desk. “So, Traci.”

“Let’s take a look and see who we can move to a senior administrator. If there isn’t anyone, we’ll have to look outside.”

Ja’Rol steepled his fingers. He wasn’t crazy about the idea, but realistically, what other choices did they have?

 

* * * *

Ja’Rol opened the office door, searching the waiting area. “Ms. Blythe?”

A senior citizen with the glare of a drill sergeant stood. Ja’Rol hid his disappointment. A company of almost seven hundred and this was the best they could do?

Forty-five minutes later, Ms. Blythe was allowed to return to her department. Ja’Rol sagged in his seat. Enclosed again in the office, it was all he could do to not ball the pad and list and throw it all away. “Six interviews and not one will do.”

“What is it you’re looking for?” Slone asked, regarding him from behind his desk. “At least two were over-qualified, and even Ms. Blythe would have run our floor like a ship.”

Ja’Rol rolled his head side to side on the black leather of the chair, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll know when I see her,” was the best he could reply. He wasn’t sure either, really. He just knew he didn’t want Methuselah’s grandmother manning the floor.

“You’re sure it’s a her?” he mused.

“Huh?”

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