Read Online Show and Tell by Jasmine Haynes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jasmine Haynes
Ads: Link
understood he wasn’t compromising his own ethics to shore up a shitty bottom line. At six four, he towered over his boss’s five ten with a very good view of the top of the egg. “There isn’t anything that’s going to get this year out of the hole.”
Rudd narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you find a way.”
“Or what?” Scott murmured. The man was an ass.
“Or heads will roll.”
And the first one would be the egghead.
“OH my God.” Trinity must have whispered that aloud at least four times since she hung up.
Her nipples were tender, sensitive nubs. They ached so good . She could see why men paid beaucoup bucks for phone sex.
Over the years, she’d had five lovers, including Harper, yet none of them had ever made her feel like this. Scott wasn’t even in the room, yet he’d left her boneless, satisfied, languorous, and sleepy, all rolled into one delicious package. He’d told her to come on the count of ten, and she’d actually held off until he gave her the word. If he’d told her to stop in the middle and began his count all over again, she still would have waited until he’d granted her permission.
Why had it gotten her so excited?
Because . . . well, heck, it was fun. Sex had never been just plain old fun, especially with someone who actually seemed to care about her orgasm. And he wasn’t even getting any since he was sitting in his office. He hadn’t interjected his own fantasies, he’d simply directed hers. It had all been about her . On second thought, it seemed a bit selfish, but she could swear he’d enjoyed it as much as she had, so where was the harm in that? It had been good for both of them.
Trinity climbed the stairs. It was after nine, and she hadn’t even dressed yet. Not that she had much to do today. She’d done most of her running around yesterday. She could even call Scott again, right now, or later. If she wanted to. She was in total control of the next move.
In the guest room, which was now her room, she tapped a key on her computer and the screen came to life. Logging on, she brought up her Internet e-mail. To avoid getting a bunch of spam to her real address, she always kept an anonymous e-mail account for shopping online.
Typing in Scott’s address—okay, yes, she’d memorized it off his card—she gave him a one-line message. “Thank you.”
Thank you for the orgasm and thank you for setting her free.
When she’d finished drying off after her shower, she checked. Nothing. Mild disappointment circled in her belly.
She moisturized and lotioned, put on her makeup, and blow-dried her hair, then checked. Still nothing. Okay, the disappointment was a tad more than mild—it had moved from her belly to her chest.
She chose the peach Evan-Picone and color-matched Manolo Blahniks.
Her screen bleeped. Her heart gave a little kick.
“That, my dear, was incredibly hot.” The address was different, a personal account instead of work, but it was Scott. And his words made her pulse do a little happy dance.
She couldn’t resist typing back. “And you have an incredibly hot voice.” She chewed her lip a second. “Okay, I promise not to call you every day begging to hear it again.”
He came back in less than a minute. “You can call me any time you want.”
Ooh. She typed quickly. “I might do that.” Then she signed out with no good-bye. The key to power was to leave when you were ready. Besides, she had this overwhelming need to continuing flirting with him all day long.
Of course, when she got back from a quick errand, she was back in e-mail before she’d even removed her Manolos.
And there he was. Her heart beat faster as she read.
“I went to the gym for a good long workout, forty-five minutes of StairMaster to sweat you out. Needless to say, all I did was
Rudd narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you find a way.”
“Or what?” Scott murmured. The man was an ass.
“Or heads will roll.”
And the first one would be the egghead.
“OH my God.” Trinity must have whispered that aloud at least four times since she hung up.
Her nipples were tender, sensitive nubs. They ached so good . She could see why men paid beaucoup bucks for phone sex.
Over the years, she’d had five lovers, including Harper, yet none of them had ever made her feel like this. Scott wasn’t even in the room, yet he’d left her boneless, satisfied, languorous, and sleepy, all rolled into one delicious package. He’d told her to come on the count of ten, and she’d actually held off until he gave her the word. If he’d told her to stop in the middle and began his count all over again, she still would have waited until he’d granted her permission.
Why had it gotten her so excited?
Because . . . well, heck, it was fun. Sex had never been just plain old fun, especially with someone who actually seemed to care about her orgasm. And he wasn’t even getting any since he was sitting in his office. He hadn’t interjected his own fantasies, he’d simply directed hers. It had all been about her . On second thought, it seemed a bit selfish, but she could swear he’d enjoyed it as much as she had, so where was the harm in that? It had been good for both of them.
Trinity climbed the stairs. It was after nine, and she hadn’t even dressed yet. Not that she had much to do today. She’d done most of her running around yesterday. She could even call Scott again, right now, or later. If she wanted to. She was in total control of the next move.
In the guest room, which was now her room, she tapped a key on her computer and the screen came to life. Logging on, she brought up her Internet e-mail. To avoid getting a bunch of spam to her real address, she always kept an anonymous e-mail account for shopping online.
Typing in Scott’s address—okay, yes, she’d memorized it off his card—she gave him a one-line message. “Thank you.”
Thank you for the orgasm and thank you for setting her free.
When she’d finished drying off after her shower, she checked. Nothing. Mild disappointment circled in her belly.
She moisturized and lotioned, put on her makeup, and blow-dried her hair, then checked. Still nothing. Okay, the disappointment was a tad more than mild—it had moved from her belly to her chest.
She chose the peach Evan-Picone and color-matched Manolo Blahniks.
Her screen bleeped. Her heart gave a little kick.
“That, my dear, was incredibly hot.” The address was different, a personal account instead of work, but it was Scott. And his words made her pulse do a little happy dance.
She couldn’t resist typing back. “And you have an incredibly hot voice.” She chewed her lip a second. “Okay, I promise not to call you every day begging to hear it again.”
He came back in less than a minute. “You can call me any time you want.”
Ooh. She typed quickly. “I might do that.” Then she signed out with no good-bye. The key to power was to leave when you were ready. Besides, she had this overwhelming need to continuing flirting with him all day long.
Of course, when she got back from a quick errand, she was back in e-mail before she’d even removed her Manolos.
And there he was. Her heart beat faster as she read.
“I went to the gym for a good long workout, forty-five minutes of StairMaster to sweat you out. Needless to say, all I did was
Similar Books
