Spicing It Up! (Siren Publishing Classic) by Mia Bailey
[Siren Classic: Erotic Contemporary Romance] Cara Manning has worked very hard to get to the top of her career. Staying on top is going to be the hardest work she has ever done. Running with the current trend in cooking shows, she pitches 'Spice It Up!'. Now all she needs is a sizzling chef to host the show. She definitely finds that in Jack Monroe, an aspiring restaurateur who has a flair for haute cuisine, a scandalous reputation, and a killer smile that makes Cara's knees melt like butter. From the moment they meet, their heat is evident. Jack can see beneath Cara's uptight exterior is a woman with passion. But can he shake the rumors of his "bad-boy" escapades to be with an uptight, corporate executive? Can Cara take a chance with a man who, technically, works for her, without risking her career or losing her own identity? ** A Siren Erotic Romance
The crew had all left for the night. Another half hour and the cleaning crew would show up. She tied up the garbage bag and decided to leave it for the cleaning crew. Where is Jack?
Her heels made a click-click-click as she walked across the floor.
He held his breath, waiting, waiting ... come on, baby, just a little closer.
"Jack?" she called out again as she passed where he hid in the shadows. His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to wince and gasp. He pulled her behind the scenery and pressed her back against the wall before surrounding her with his body. One hand settled on the wall beside her head while the other immediately covered her breast. He molded it in his hands, letting his thumb brush over her eager tip through her shirt, her bra beneath, causing her to moan.
"You like that, don't you, baby," he whispered hotly into her ear before running his tongue over the shell like portion, licking down to her lobes where he nipped it gently between his teeth. "You like it when I stroke your nipple, getting it all hard, tight." He continued laving and sucking her throat column.
She couldn't find the words, couldn't find the voice to say the words, so she nodded furtively while tilting her head to give him better access to her neck. He chuckled, pressing his body harder against her. She whimpered trying to move her pelvis against him, trying to ease the throbbing that connected her aroused nipple to her dampening pussy. He continued to eat at her, licking and biting her neck, forcing her head to the other side so he could feast on the other side of her throat.
"Say it, baby. Tell me how much you like itwhen I taste you. Tell me." He emphasized his request by biting her neck, causing her to moan.
"Yes," she ground out hoarsely, "please, more."
Her senses were swamped with her escalating desire to press against him to ease the fire he was building while she also felt with his uncontrollable ardor that competed with his desire to dominate her. And she loved it, craved it. He growled and bit harder, licking and tasting, drinking her in, every movement, every sound, every taste.
He pressed her against the wall, where she could not raise her arms to touch him, her hands trapped between them, where she could barely move beneath his weight, the strength of him holding her in place. In the darkness surrounding them, she couldn't see what he was doing. She could only hear his labored breathing as he flattened himself along her willing body. She could do nothing but accept every touch, as he wanted to touch her.
And he wanted to touch her.
His hand gripped her breast, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling and tugging as he pinched it. He knew he squeezed her too hard, hard enough to leave bruises, but he didn't care. His cock surged against his pants at the thought of her carrying his mark. Her moans were all the encouragement he needed, another factor that fed his need for dominance. The fact that she wanted it.
With every reaction to his touch, she begged for more. In the way that she leaned into his hand, encouraging him to clutch at her harder. In the way that her hips undulated, trying to press intimately against him. In the way she groaned her frustration as he held her at bay. She had her way earlier this morning, and now it was his turn to play.
"No, you don't, baby." She whimpered her annoyance, trying harder to align her body against his. She already knew what a perfect fit they were, and she wanted him to press his body fully against hers, making her feel the same way he did last night. But she was no match for his strength as he held her at bay, refusing her need to touch him. Her brows furrowed as she conveyed her need through a moan, trying once more desperately to push against him.
He growled deeply, a combination of desire and exasperation, of impatience and pain. His cock stretched the length of his leg, and each move she made had his member straining, as if trying to reach her through the fabric. She was hell on his control! And her moan coupled with her sinuous moves against him had snapped that thread that he used to subdue himself.
Grabbing hold of her wrists in one hand, he quickly spun her so that she faced the wall. He wedged his knee between her thighs, her crotch rubbing on his knee eliciting a sharp gasp, first from shock and then from need. He slipped his other hand into her shirt, beneath her bra, where he could taunt her distended nipple. His body crowded her, pushing her against the wall. She couldn't push away, couldn't resist. Didn't want to resist, her traitorous body was clay being shaped and formed by a master sculptor.
"Oh, no, baby. Not this time." He nibbled and nipped her tender flesh, causing slight shivers to run up and down her spine. "You're not in charge now, I am."