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  Mergers and Acquisitions

  Copyright © 2013 by Sorcha Mowbray

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-502-4

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  Mergers and Acquisitions

  “Thank you, Mr. Walters. It’s been a pleasure working with your team.” Shannon stretched her arm across the table as she leaned forward, rising out of her chair. The coolness of her skirt stretched across the bare skin of her ass. She always wore garters and hose for signings. The cling of sexy lingerie made her feel powerful and feminine at the same time.

  The sale of Virtual Designs to DecaCode, Inc. solidified Pearson, Keane, & Zulinsky’s reputation as the tech M&A firm to hire if someone wanted the best. Acquisitions had become her favorite part of the business. Mergers tended to be so messy.

  “Thank you, Ms. Pearson. Paul and I are looking forward to a little Tahitian vacation thanks to the funds from this sale.” Mr. Walters smiled at her as only a gay man could. Appreciative of her charms, without the remotest spark of interest.

  Not like the smoldering gazes her client often leveled at her across the oak expanse of the conference table. Today he sat on her left, an even worse position since it left him in close proximity. Heat radiated off his body—and oh, what a body. He distracted her in the most inappropriate ways. Her nipples pebbled beneath her silk blouse and would be more than obvious without her suit coat.

  “That sounds,” she hesitated, needing to manufacture a suitable response, “delightful.” She let go of Mr. Walters’ hand.

  “Something tells me you wouldn’t have the first clue how to relax and enjoy a Tahitian vacation.” He grinned, softening the harsh words. “You do a damn fine job, Ms. Pearson, but work way too hard. You’d best find a way to relax before you burn out.”

  Shannon considered his words. Maybe she did put in long hours without regard for a personal life, but how else could she establish her M&A firm as one of the top companies in the business? “Well, after making you and Mr. Granger a little richer, I may have a few moments to consider some relaxation. Your proceeds should be in your account within the hour. Mr. Granger’s bank is wiring the money to you as we speak.” Michele, her assistant, entered. “Michele, if you could please show Mr. Walters out. I believe he has some celebrating to do.”

  “Of course.” Michele held the door for the client.

  “Thanks again Ms. Pearson. Mr. Granger, I hope Virtual Designs is as good an investment for you as it was for me.”

  “I’m sure it will be.” Dalton smiled and they shook across the table.

  Alone with the person who occupied too much of her thoughts Shannon prepared herself for the final onslaught of Dalton Granger’s potent sexuality. The man exuded confidence and lust, filling the air around him with an aphrodisiac of the finest quality.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Granger. You made an excellent buy.” She focused on collecting the documents to be filed with the Securities and Exchange Commission to record the purchase of Virtual Designs, a publicly traded company. Stock prices would go through the roof once the market opened on Monday morning.

  “I did indeed. I know a good thing when I see it.” The deep resonance of his voice worked its way past her protective layers of clothing to twist and pull at her nipples, as though his fingers danced across her skin. How the hell did he do that?

  Clutching her paperwork to her chest as a shield, she looked at him. Really looked at him. His dark brown hair and black walnut eyes made for an intimidating pairing, heightened by his physical mass. At six-foot-one or maybe two, Dalton existed as a superior specimen of the male form. Under the finely tailored suits he favored, he hid a body in excellent shape. The one time she’d gotten a hint of his masculine perfection had come the day before when her stiletto snagged in a grate on the street as they walked to lunch. She tottered, sure to collide with the unforgiving pavement. Instead the iron bands of his arms snaked out to catch her, pulling her hard against his muscled chest. She’d gasped in shock, from both the near miss and the current of desire winging through her from the close contact.

  Before, she’d relied on her imagination in her fantasies of the compelling man. Now, she had a wealth of sensory data to put to erotic use. Last night her dreams had included powerful biceps, a well-muscled chest, and the man’s scent. Whatever cologne he wore should be traded as liquid gold on the market. The fresh, clean smell devastated a girl’s senses and played hell on her concentration.

  Hence the long, drawn out silence while he ate her up with his eyes. Without a doubt, he made her feel like a good thing. “It would seem that way. Well, I’m sure you are eager to go celebrate your purchase.”

  She edged around the formidable threat to her good intentions. Two steps from escape, he reached out and grabbed her upper arm. Her body ignited. The crotch of her thong soaked through, verging on saturation. Her nipples poked against the delicate blouse as though they could escape their confinement. Her toes curled in her high heels. All that, and he hadn’t even kissed her.

  “I’ve no one to celebrate with. Come have a drink with me at my hotel.” His cajoling words were belied by the flame in his eyes. He would not accept no for an answer.

  Still, her professional self balked. Hell, no! Besides being a client, he was downright dangerous. The kind of man who would want to control everything. Who did control everything.

  “Yes.” Her breathy compliance flew in the face of all intelligent, rational thought. She did not give up her power. Not since she wrestled it from
her overbearing father in college. Disowned and disinherited for refusing to marry the suitor he had picked for her—as if they lived in the 1800s or something—she had scraped and struggled to make it on her own. She’d been poor as hell, but unequivocally in charge.

  “Excellent. Michele, please take these papers to Ms. Pearson’s office and bring Shannon her coat.” His feral smile sent shivers down her spine, but resistance was futile.

  Michele wrested the pages from her grip and departed. When had she reappeared, anyway? His gaze drifted over Shannon in another thorough sweep.

  “Mr. Walters had it right. You do need to relax.” His grip still restrained her but gave her tense muscles a gentle squeeze.

  “I am quite capable of relaxing.”

  “Hhhmmm. We’ll see.” The silence surrounded them for a moment as though he tested her will.

  Should she try to convince him? Prove to him she matched his mental strength? No, it would be pointless. She’d fall short, and she knew it.

  Her assistant returned bearing outerwear.

  “Thank you, Michele. Has my car been brought around?”

  “Yes, Mr. Granger.” Shannon’s jacket slid up over her shoulders with his firm guidance. Her purse appeared and then his coat.

  Still assimilating events, she settled into the back seat of the black sedan as her brain kicked back into gear. “The Stanton has a lovely bar. I would imagine most men feel right at home in the dark wood and leather interior.”

  “It is very nice. But we’ll be having our drink in my rooms. I have another business proposition to discuss with you, one which requires privacy.”

  “My office would have been suitable. We have the spaces swept for surveillance each month. With the sensitive nature of our business, we can’t afford to be the victim of corporate espionage.” She crossed her legs, letting the glide of her nylons remind her of her own power.

  He ignored her comment as the car came to a stop. He helped her from the vehicle in front of the hotel. They crossed the lobby and rode the elevator up to be ensconced in his room. Alone, again.

  Dalton studied the delicious woman across the room. He opened a bottle of his favorite merlot and carried two glasses to where she sat. His cock might as well have been a concrete pylon. If she noticed it, she would be far more skittish than she appeared. She took the glass from him, wrapping her slender fingers around the delicate crystal goblet.

  An image of those same fingers wrapped around his cock flashed across his mind. He stifled a groan and sat next to her on the couch. “My proposition is of a personal nature.” He watched the vein in her neck beat a soft pulse. The need to lick the spot dried his mouth. He took a sip of his wine.

  Her cornflower blue eyes and honey blonde hair screamed All-American girl, but hid a steel spine and head for business any man would envy. Could he convince her to sleep with him? Persuade her to surrender her power for a few hours and let him see to her every need, her every desire? Show her how to dance along the edge of pleasure and pain to their mutual satisfaction?

  God, I hope so.

  “I want you in my bed, Shannon. I’ve done nothing for weeks but imagine your long legs wrapped around my hips as I drive my cock into your wet pussy until we both explode.”

  She gasped. Her breath grew shallow and rapid as the pulse at her neck fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. “Mr. Granger. I—”

  “Dalton. After all, I’ve just propositioned you in the most intimate of terms. Before you respond, there is more to the bargain you should be aware of. I want you for the weekend. My flight leaves Sunday night at nine. Until then, you will be here with me. I call the shots. I demand control in the bedroom even more than in business, Shannon.”

  She took a large swallow of wine. “You’re a Dom, aren’t you?”

  Damn, smart women are hot. “Yes. Whatever happens between us will remain private. There will be no professional repercussions whether you agree to my proposal or not. I would request the same discretion and consideration of you.”

  “Of course.” Her moist tongue peeked from between full lips to slide across the lower one and then the upper. His cock leaped to attention, straining the capacity of his fly. She looked at him, and one brow lifted. He believed she considered his offer, which sent a little thrill of anticipation through him.

  “We’ve established I’m a Dom. Are you perhaps a sexual submissive?”

  “I’ve read a few books, seen a movie or two, but have no real experience. However, I am certain I am in no way submissive.”

  “I see. Well, regardless, we can negotiate your limits and explore your level of obedience. I prefer submissive women, but you have so captured my attention, I’d be willing to make it work for the weekend.”

  She shifted and her suit coat parted, revealing her pebbled nipples. He ached to wrap his tongue around those ripe buds and suck until she came. Would she be sensitive enough to orgasm that way?

  She took another swallow of wine and set the glass down before rising. Dalton’s stomach twisted. Could she be leaving? Damn it, he’d come on too strong.

  Then she slid her jacket from her shoulders and dropped it on the arm of the couch. “I think we can come to a mutually satisfying arrangement.”

  His balls drew up as though he would blow his load in his pants. The woman was fucking incredible. “Excellent.” He removed his coat. “Are you familiar with safe words?”

  “Yes. I believe red is a standard one?” She returned to her seat.

  “It is. Is that what you want to use?”

  “Yes.” She raised the elegant stemware to her lips and drank.

  “Good. It is very important you say it if anything we do feels wrong, hurts you, or makes you uncomfortable. I suggest adding yellow as a way to slow things down since you are so new to this. That will give us a moment to pause and talk about what is and isn’t working without requiring a full stop. Does that sound reasonable?”

  “Yellow to slow down and talk, got it. Dalton, I have no experience outside of the normal range of sex. In fact, I’ve been so busy with work lately, intimacy has fallen by the wayside altogether.” Her long lashes lowered to hide her beautiful eyes.

  “How long has it been?” Could she hear the strain in his voice?

  “Three years. Three years of the occasional interlude with BOB or my own fingers when I wasn’t so exhausted I passed out.”

  A light pink tinted her cheeks and made him wonder if she’d flush that way as he buried himself inside her. “BOB as in battery operated boyfriend?”

  She nodded.

  “Thank you for telling me. Have you ever been spanked or swatted during sex?”

  “No.” She eased back into the seat and crossed her eye-catching legs.

  “How about having your nipples pinched?”

  “Some, but nothing extreme.”

  “Any bondage?”

  Her breath caught. Interesting.

  “I’ve never tried it. But I think I’d like to see what it’s like.”

  “Good, we’ll explore that. Is there anything off limits, or maybe something else you’d like to try?”

  “Pain does not appeal to me. No flogging or whipping. Otherwise, I’m not sure. As I said, I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “Okay, we’ll start slow and work our way up.” He raised his glass to his lips. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I’d say you’ve already asked more than one.”

  His dominant nature begged to rise up and deal with her smartass comment, but he managed to keep it all in check. “Very well. Are you wearing a garter belt under that skirt?” The impression of straps running the length of her thighs and framing her plump ass had teased him all afternoon. At times he’d been sure of what he saw and at others he thought he’d hallucinated from the desire she stirred within him.

  Her cheeks pinked further. “I am.”

  All the air left his lungs.

  She uncrossed her silky legs and rose. “Would you like to see?�
�

  “Very much. Please, remove the skirt and blouse.” He sat back and waited for her to unwrap his gift to himself.

  She unfastened her shirt one tiny pearl button at a time. The silk material slowly parted under her fingertips to reveal lace-covered breasts. A nudge had the blouse floating away to puddle on the floor. Her skirt disappeared much faster as she slid it down her thighs and calves to show the thong and garter that matched her bra. Her waist nipped in before flaring out to luscious hips made for a man’s grip.

  He groaned and adjusted his cock in his slacks.

  Her eyes trained on the motion, flaring as she took in his state of need.

  “Come here.”

  Without hesitation, she stepped between his knees. He reached up to take hold of her wrist and tugged her into his lap. As the fleshy cushion of her rump landed against his swollen cock he thanked all the saints for his good fortune. He traced a finger along the lace edge framing her breasts and let it dip into her cleavage. Her nipples puckered to hard nubs. His digit trailed over one mound to flick the hard point through the sexy sheer material. Then he slid his hand up along her neck to cup the back of her head. With a gentle tug, he pulled her toward him and captured her lips in a kiss he’d been fantasizing about for the last month.

  Tongues collided to slip and slide in their mingled warmth. She pressed closer to him, her arms snaking around his neck to hang on as though she might float away. She tasted like tea and mint with the butteriness of the merlot they drank. He pulled away from her drugging mouth to regain some semblance of control.

  “You’re an excellent kisser, Dalton.” Her husky whisper made his dick jerk in response.

  “Sir. You’ll call me Sir while we are having sex. Now, stand.”

  She blinked then followed his direction.

  What about him made her so compliant? She hadn’t responded to anyone’s direct command, let alone a man’s, since cutting her father out of her life back in college. Under normal circumstances, an order given in such an autocratic fashion would raise her hackles and engage her fight instinct. Instead, this specimen of masculinity made her melt and comply with nary a spark of defiance.