His Every Touch [The Complete Series]

Copyright © 2013

All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of
the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Copyright © 2013

All characters appearing in this
work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

Warning: This work contains
scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All
characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.

Note: This series has been
previously published in the “Filthy Smut” anthology series.

Table of Contents

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four

She
wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten herself into this position. Palms flat
against the top of his desk, the only sound in the office that of their
breathing – his even and controlled, hers shallow and quick. The anticipation
curled in her belly, heat spreading through her cells as she waited for what
he'd do next. When her day began, she'd never imagined that she'd end it like
this...

****

Twenty-seven year-old Courtney Bell hated her
job. She'd started at the Asgard Corporation shortly after she graduated from
college, full of ideas about how she was going to change the world. Sure, she'd
started in a low-paying entry level position, something more suited to someone
with a basic accounting degree rather than someone with an MBA from Stanford –
a summa cum laude graduate, no less. But she'd assumed she'd move up quickly,
get into positions that would allow her more control over what projects the
company invested in. She'd dreamed of some big project – just what she never
entirely envisioned – that would lead to her meeting the man of her dreams.
After a whirlwind romance, during which he'd shower her with lavish gifts and
drive other women mad with jealousy, they'd have a huge wedding and then move
into the perfect house – white picket fence optional. Instead, she found
herself worn down by the nattering of interoffice politics, the currying for
favor and basic ass-kissing. Now it was just a paycheck. She did what she needed
to do to get by and that was it. After all, what was the point of trying when
it was more about tits and cock – if you had one or were willing to suck one –
than about actual qualifications?
Speaking of which
, Courtney thought as she scowled at her reflection in the
shiny metal of the elevator doors. She hated these annual reviews. They were
always the same. Some big-wig, usually a man, sat across some obscenely
expensive desk and judged everything she'd done in the past year. Or, at least
that's what they said they were doing. The lecherous eyes that ran from her
sensible pumps to her tastefully modest business suit conveyed a different
story. It wasn't that she was ugly, she knew, just average looking. If she'd
tried a little harder, maybe wore her ash blond waves down around her shoulders
rather than back in a clip, used more makeup to accentuate her dark gray eyes
and full lips, maybe she'd have more luck. Maybe if she wore a shorter skirt or
a tighter, lower-cut shirt to show off her curves, maybe that would get some
attention. Instead, she wanted her work to speak for itself and, unfortunately,
it didn't shout louder than the buxom brunette with her tits hanging out. So
Krissy and Shannon and Cindy and dozens like them got the promotions that didn't
go to men.
When the elevator dinged, she took a sip of
her coffee and stepped through the doors before they finished opening. She
didn't see him until they collided and hot liquid was spilling over her hand.
“Shit,” Courtney jumped back enough to avoid
getting coffee on her blouse, but one look at the man she'd run into revealed
that he hadn't been quite so lucky. “I am so sorry,” she stammered, completely
mortified by the brown stain marring the most-likely expensive dress shirt.
Then her eyes flicked up to his face and her heart nearly stopped.
Tousled blue-black hair over a classically
handsome face. Arctic blue eyes that made things low in her belly instantly
tighten. And the expression in them...she would have expected anger, annoyance,
maybe even humor if the man was good-natured enough. This...there was no way to
describe it other than she immediately thought that this man wanted to do bad
things to her. And she was seriously considering letting him.
She shook her head, realizing that he was talking
to her. The heat in her cheeks deepened. “I am so sorry,” she repeated.
“I believe you said that already,” his voice
was low, cultured. “I asked what floor you were going to.”
“Oh,” She swore in her head. Her brain
scrambled to find the answer. “Twelve.”
“Pity,” the man punched the button and then
pulled off his jacket and tie. One side of his mouth twitched upwards in a
partial smile. “I was rather hoping you were going down.”
Her mouth dropped. Was he seriously flirting
with her? Her eyes dropped to his fingers which were quickly unfastening the
buttons of his dress shirt to reveal a fitted undershirt that clung to muscles
his well-tailored jacket had hidden. Then he pulled that off as well and she
had to bite back a noise halfway between a moan and a 'fuck.' His torso was
lean and smooth, far firmer than one would originally think.
“Fortunately, I always keep spares,” he was
saying as he crouched next to his briefcase, muscles rippling beneath lightly
tanned skin.
“Um, what?” Her brain was still trying to make
sense of what was happening but it just kept coming back to
holy fuck, I
want to run my tongue over those flat abs
.
“Never know when you might need an extra
shirt,” he pulled an undershirt from his briefcase and pulled it on. When he
stood, his gaze turned to her, eyes shining with amusement. He shrugged back
into his jacket. “We're here.”
“What?” She was having a problem keeping up.
“Twelfth floor, right?” He motioned towards
the opening doors.
“Oh, yeah, right,” She shook her head. She
stepped into the hallway, tossing her now-empty coffee cup into the trash.
“Shall we?”
She jumped. He had followed her off the
elevator. “Excuse me?”
“Courtney Bell, here for her annual review?”
Her mysterious stranger held out his hand. “I'm Vance Forster, your reviewer.”
She swore as she shook his hand, trying to
ignore the excited little tingle that ran through her at the contact. She
couldn't believe her luck. Whatever small hope she'd been harboring regarding a
good review vanished. The innuendo in the elevator made more sense now. He
wasn't attracted to her. He just wanted to know what she was willing to do for
a promotion. Usually it was only creepy Raymond Lee who hit on her, and based
on office rumor, he wasn't anyone she wanted to know better. One intern said
she'd accidentally walked in during a personal call. She'd only heard part of
his conversation, but it had involved latex, butter and a few things she'd had
to look up on the internet.
“My office is this way,” Vance stretched out
his arm.
Courtney followed in silence, her prior bleak
mood returning. She really didn't want to do this, especially after ogling him
in the elevator. She'd never found any of her prior reviewers attractive and
didn't want to start now.
She stopped next to Vance and looked around,
confused.
“Figured we take my private elevator the rest
of the way.”
Understanding hit her hard enough to make her
gasp. Vance Forster. Of course! She should've recognized the name, but she'd
been so distracted by what had happened that she hadn't really registered it.
Vance Forster, thirty-one year-old Princeton
graduate and youngest ever CEO of the Asgard Corporation.
Oh shit. This was not going to end well.
“Come, Ms. Bell,” Vance's business-like tone
startled her. “I'd prefer you go first. I don't have another shirt.”
Courtney flushed, whether from the
embarrassment of having spilled coffee on the CEO or the memory of him without
a shirt, she wasn't sure. Hard muscles, flat dark nipples, pants that hung just
right on his hips, showing those deep V grooves...yeah, it was the memory.
“I hope this isn't indicative of how much
attention you pay to your work,” Vance's voice cut through Courtney's reverie.
To her chagrin, she realized that he was still
waiting for her to move. Cheeks burning, she stepped inside. The private
elevator was smaller than the one they'd been in before, but Vance stood closer
than necessary, the scent of him surrounding her. She'd never smelled anything
like it. Sharp and clean, like a mountain forest she'd visited as a teenager.
Fuck. She was doing it again, letting this
absolutely gorgeous man distract her. What was worse, a quick sideways glance
revealed a grin that suggested he knew exactly what his proximity was doing to
her. She tried not to squirm, but there was something about her boss's gaze
that made her think squirming was precisely what he had in mind. Neither one of
them spoke on the short ride up to the top floor, the air between them almost
too thick to breath. When the doors finally opened, Courtney didn't wait for
Vance to ask her to step out. She took a deep breath, letting the air fill her
lungs as she willed her heart to stop pounding.
“Shall we begin?” Vance's voice was even,
revealing none of the tension that had permeated the ride.
“Where do you want me?” As soon as the words
were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back.
“I can think of quite a few answers for that
question,” Vance shrugged out of his jacket. He crossed to another door,
opening it to reveal a closet. He pulled out a pristine dress shirt and hung it
on the doorknob. “But for right now, why don't you have a seat.”
Courtney wiped her palms on her skirt and took
the proffered chair. She pressed her knees together, folded her hands on her
lap and tried to focus on maintaining a business-like composure, waiting for
the questions to begin. To her surprise, Vance didn't put on the clean shirt or
sit in his posh-looking chair. Instead, he walked over to the front of the
desk, stopping just inches away from where she sat. He leaned back against the
edge and peered down at her, not saying anything.
Seconds turned to minutes and still he didn't
speak. Courtney had started out determined not to break first, sensing that
this was some sort of test, but as the minutes ticked by and Vance didn't move,
she began to wonder if she'd misread the signs. Maybe he was waiting for her to
do something, say something. She squirmed ever so slightly and the spell was
broken.
“You have quite an impressive resumé, Ms.
Bell,” Vance spoke with a quiet authority that instantly made it obvious why
he'd risen to power so quickly, though Courtney was sure his looks hadn't hurt.
He continued. “It's too bad your performance hasn't lived up to it. You'd think
that someone with your education could manage far better.”
Courtney's jaw dropped. He was the first
reviewer who'd ever mentioned her background and he was using it to berate her?
All right, she conceded, berate may have been too strong a word, but she'd
already been feeling foolish enough that the words hurt more than they would
have normally.
“Are things too
hard
for you, Ms.
Bell?”
She snapped her mouth shut, sure she had
imagined the stress he’d put on that one word. There was no way he was hitting
on her. Was there?
“You did well your first two years here,”
Vance straightened and took a step towards Courtney. “Maybe all you need is
some discipline.”
This time, Courtney knew it wasn't in her
head. Vance circled behind her and she nearly jumped out of her skin when his
finger ghosted over the back of her neck.
“Mr. Forster,” she squeaked, then blushed. She
cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. Forster, I...”
“Stand up,” he cut her off. The words weren't
harsh or loud, but full of that same quiet authority.
“Why?” The word popped out of her mouth before
she could stop it. And suddenly, he was there, body just centimeters away. She
looked up and the expression in those arctic eyes made her mouth go dry and her
stomach clench.
“Why?” He repeated. “Because you need someone
to keep you in line, to provide discipline.” His voice caressed the word.
“Don't you?”
Courtney didn't know what to say. How was she
supposed to respond to this? He wasn't asking for a blow job or a fuck in
exchange for a promotion. This was something completely different.
“Now, stand up,” he repeated the order, a
dangerous set to his full lips.
She thought about arguing. Thought about not
doing it. But she couldn't deny the thrill that went through her, straight to
her groin, at the thought of this man telling her what to do. So, as much to
see what would happen next as anything else, she stood. Vance's eyes ran over
her body and she fought to not shiver. Something flickered across his face but
was gone before she could put a name to it.
“Very nice,” he murmured. “Take off your
jacket.” Responding to her startled look, he added, voice slightly softened,
“Just the jacket.”
She did as she was told and let the garment
drop into her chair. He moved out of her eyeline and she could feel him
standing behind her.
“Hands on the desk,” his voice had taken on
something low and husky, something that made her uncomfortably aware that her
panties were damp. The polished wood was smooth under her palms. Every muscle
in her body was tense, waiting for what would happen next. How far was she
going to let this go? For some reason, this man had chosen her for this and she
had no doubt if she refused, he'd have no problem finding another woman to take
her place. She couldn't deny that there was something about the way he spoke
that called to her, touched a place deep inside that she'd never known before.
It wasn't about the job, of that much she was sure. Vance Forster didn't strike
her as the type to do annual reviews for someone just a few steps above an
intern. So how had he chosen her? Why?
Then his hands were on her waist, burning
through the thin cotton of her blouse. He leaned over her, his hard length
pressing against her ass. As his hands slid up, over her ribs, to cup her
breasts, his breath was hot against her ear.
“You need someone to take a firmer hand with
you, Ms. Bell. Punish you when you're out of line. Make sure you're living up
to your potential.”
She closed her eyes, letting his words flow
over her, the images dancing behind her eyelids making her pussy throb. She
shifted, desperate for more friction, and he chuckled. He took a step back and
Courtney made a sound of pure frustration.