One Night With My Billionaire Master (11 page)

He pulls out to his tip. “Two,” Logan roars, driving into me balls deep. I scream, bucking, breaking apart. He pushes farther into me, filling me with shaft and cum. I twist and turn, pinned to the seat by his hips, my world flashing light and dark, hot and cold.

“Fuck.” He holds his position for three heartbeats and then collapses, flattening me. “Arianna,” he murmurs against my bare chest.

“Logan.” I wrap my arms around him, clasping my man to him, never wanting to let him go. He belongs to me and I belong to him. “I saw stars.”

His shoulders shake, my billionaire master silently laughing. “I saw them too, pet.”

“I love you,” I whisper, wanting, needing, to share my feelings. “Is it too early in the evening to ask for another night?”

“I love you too.” He straightens, taking me with him. “And you can have this and every following night, for the rest of our lives.” Logan kisses my forehead, cradling me in his arms. “I’m yours.”

# # #

If you enjoyed One Night With My Billionaire Master, sign up for Cynthia Sax’s release day newsletter at
http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
or keep in touch using the following links:

Website:
CynthiaSax.com

Newsletter:
Taste of Cyn newsletter

Facebook:
facebook.com/cynthia.sax

Twitter:
@CynthiaSax

Smashwords:
www.smashwords.com/profile/view/cynthiasax

Blog:
TasteOfCyn.com

About Cynthia Sax

USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes contemporary, SciFi and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.

She lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever.

Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Sign up for her dirty-joke-filled release day newsletter and visit her on the web at
www.CynthiaSax.com

Other Books by Cynthia Sax

From Avon

He Watches Me, He Touches Me, He Claims Me

Flashes Of Me

Breaking All The Rules

Sinful Rewards 1-12

Excerpt

The following is an excerpt of The Good Assistant…

The Good Assistant

Cynthia Sax

Billionaire John Powers doesn’t mix business with pleasure. Until now.

* * *

My boss, John Powers, represents everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He’s the CEO and founder of a powerful company, that position having made him a billionaire, striking in an I-survived-a-bar-brawl sort of way, and too clever for my sanity.

I’m his assistant and desperately in love with him. I’d willingly serve him both in the boardroom and in the bedroom.

There’s one problem.

He doesn’t mix business with pleasure.

Ever.

Excerpt

I rush into John’s personal domain and skid to a stop, my heart squeezing, my body humming with awareness.

My boss stands facing his floor to ceiling windows, gloriously naked from the waist upward, his shoulders broad and his back straight. Silver scars, remnants of his rough childhood, slash his golden skin. His tan is natural, his forearms darker than his shoulders, and his dark brown hair is cropped close to his head. Tuxedo pants hug his narrow hips, his feet are braced apart and a phone is pressed to his ear.

A massive mahogany desk paired with a brown leather captain’s chair dominates one end of the office. The shelves lining the interior walls are filled with textbooks, every weighty volume read by my self-educated boss. John’s suit, shirt, and tie are discarded over the two guest chairs positioned in front of the desk.

I stride to the brass coat rack and hang his shirt beside his tuxedo jacket. John turns, and his gaze meets mine, his brown eyes dark and smoldering, resembling the richest, most decadent hot chocolate. My stomach flutters.

His profile is sharp, his thin blade-like nose and defined chin striking rather than classically handsome. More scars circle his neck. According to internet reports, a druggie slashed my boss’ throat when he was a teenager. Not even that brush with death could slow him down.

My gaze drops and my pulse increases. John’s tuxedo pants are undone, the v exposing stark white cotton briefs. A trail of fine brown hair travels downward from the indent at his navel, disappearing under the waistband. I lick my lips, wishing to follow this path with my tongue.

“What?” John barks into his phone. “Hell no, Bass.” He returns his gaze to the blue sky, his focus on the call. I remove the shirt from the wire hanger. “There has to be profitability in this project. I’m running a business, not a charity.”

This isn’t the complete truth. Powers Corporation does give money to charity. I tap his fingers. John lifts his arm, his frown deepening, and I slip the shirtsleeve over his hand, his musky male scent engulfing me.

John leans into me, lowering his big body, allowing me to dress him. The soft cotton pulls tight across his wide shoulders, his back muscles ripple and his biceps bulge. He’s a man in his prime, strong and beautiful, and I long to drag my lips over his tanned skin, to taste every inch of him.

Good assistants don’t taste their bosses. With my slight form positioned in front of my executive’s much larger physique, I feel tiny and feminine and needy, so very needy. My fingers tremble as I fasten his black enamel buttons, quickly covering his magnificent chest, his chiseled abs, his heart-wrenching scars, removing the temptation to touch him. My normally keen-eyed boss thankfully doesn’t notice my reaction to his near-nudity.

“I know Grant told you that,” John rumbles, his voice deep. “What I don’t know is why you didn’t address my concerns immediately.” He spreads his arms.

I reach around his trim waist. His body is seductively warm. I tuck his shirttails into his pants, smoothing the material over his clenched ass cheeks. Dressing John is a test of my professionalism, a test I know I will some day fail.

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

I wince, having warned Mr. Bass not to waste my boss’ valuable time. The young CEO clearly didn’t listen to me. I slide my hands around John’s hips, over his groin, trying not to touch him, unsuccessful in my quest. My boss is too big, all over.

His cock hardens. In the past, I told myself this was a natural reaction, a man’s response to any woman’s touch. Now, after the discussion with Stacie, I’m not as certain. Is he reacting specifically to me, to my hands on his body?

“That’s what I need to know,” John continues his phone conversation.

I fasten the button of his pants. The impressively large ridge in his white briefs prevents me from doing more. I nibble on my bottom lip and glance upward at his face, undecided as to what to do next. John doesn’t look at me, showing no indication that he knows I’m standing before him.

Stacie must be wrong. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t even realize I’m here. I glide my fingertips over his briefs, flatten my palm along his cloth-covered shaft, and nudge him to the side. A shudder rolls down John’s torso, shaking his shoulders.

He knows I’m here now.

# # #