Vanity's Obsession

Blurb

Business and pleasure are about to collide. In the boardroom the contracts turning over control of the Eidolon Arms to Xavier Industries are signed. But it's not in the boardroom that the sparks really fly. For Vanity, that's merely foreplay before cinching the real deal. After months of intense bargaining, Vanity is more than primed to finally have Miles Xavier in her bed for one night of phenomenal sex. Vanity may be in for a surprise because this lover is about to turn the tables and this is one sinful obsession that may leave Vanity in an unexpected negotiating position.

Excerpt

"The well-made jacket he wore was a stamp of his individuality. He exuded an energy that marked him as worthy of undivided attention. He stood out in the room filled with attorneys who were all dressed in tailored suits created by Armani, Versace, or some other well-known, over-used designer. Understated blues and grays that blended into a sea of boring. Even my own suit was adequately understated. Which is part of the reason I couldn't look away--his jacket moved with him in a way that was almost otherworldly, like a second skin, molded over those broad shoulders, the ebony luster somehow emphasizing the mystique and dominance of the man.

This man of mystery with an element of dangerous, sheathed power intrigued me. In our negotiations online I had only surmised a shadow of his intense charisma. In the same room with him, it slammed into me full throttle.

I'd been able to discover very little about the background of the chairman of the board at Xavier Industries. He was an enigma. There was scant personal publicity to be uncovered and in this day and age of bare-it-all, every-facet-revealed mentality that in itself was unusual. I admired him for that alone; it was a difficult shield to maintain. My instincts said there were layers to this man I wanted to discover. Intimately. Real up close and personal. And the cherry on top? He hadn't laughed when he found out my name. Not even in the beginning. Vanity Owens was not a name anyone took seriously in my profession. And being a curvy, well-endowed woman with natural platinum blonde hair didn't help matters any. You could see it in their eyes, that question I knew lurked beneath the surface. Is she as vain and empty-headed as she looks? There were pros as well as cons to that assumption. In business it could prove to be a pretty lethal secret weapon. And then, sometimes...

At any rate, I'd lived with the definition. Maybe, in a way it had made me stronger. Maybe I should really thank my parents for the moniker.

"It's a name that'll keep you honest, girl," my daddy had once said. And in one sense, I guess my name has kept my path true, just not in the way he expected, because what I think he really meant was that it would keep me in my place. If he were alive today, he'd have denounced me as a whore. High-priced maybe, but still a whore.

Unfortunately for Daddy, the name had the opposite effect on me. I relished being on top with an adventurous fervor that would have shocked anyone who knew me before my college days.

I'd always thought it was a mark of confidence and intelligence that I wasn't ruled by my pussy, like some men kept their brains housed in their cock--well, more than some--but anyway. I wasn't ruled by an intimate anatomy part when it came to the direction my life would take.

At least I'd thought so, until today. There was a mounting slickness between my thighs that didn't usually happen in business meetings of this type. It was foreign to my nature. Certainly to this extent it was. But I knew today I was really going to have to be on my toes. I could not afford to make a mistake. I'd fought this addiction to my fantasy of the man for months and I could not let it distract me now. I dared not.

When I was first introduced to Miles at the initial videoconference meeting, it was as though something clicked--fell right into place, like the elusive heirloom diamond earring you thought you'd lost forever, discovered imprisoned beneath a corner of the sofa. A whole intriguing world opened up for me, and my destiny was suddenly illuminated in a different, unexpected way. And during all these months of negotiation, nothing could veer me from the path of my new obsession, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

Looking at Miles sitting across the table from me, I wondered if in this particular situation, maybe my looks might be to my advantage in an entirely different way. There was just something about him. Something that had me obsessing daily about fucking Miles Xavier when we did finally meet.

He sat with his back to the window, his lean, angular face shaded. His attention was on the mound of legal documents resting in front of him. We all waited patiently as he silently read, consulted the man sitting next to him, and then returned his attention to the legalese.

I was positioned directly opposite, waiting. Watching. Obsessing.

As he initialed each page and then signed the signature page on each set of documents with a bold black slash of the Montblanc fountain pen, the folder was then passed across the table to me. I smoothed a hand over each printed page, noting the bold initials in the crisp white lower right corners. Flipped through each page until I reached the signature page. His was a signature that reflected self-confidence, almost defiance. There was no hesitation in the fluid, yet dominating lines of coal-black ink. I felt the penetrating intensity of attention as I scanned pages and was shocked when I looked up to find his razor-sharp ice-blue gaze staring at me, pen poised over the signature line of the next document. And if I was any judge of men, that penetrating look was not about business.

"Any problems?" he inquired in a deep, bass voice that probably curled more than a few feminine toes.

I closed the green pressboard folder and pushed it across the surface of the polished red mahogany table to my assistant. I tried not to think about Miles Xavier lunging over the table and dragging me across the shiny surface. Of him shoving up my skirt, ripping off my panties, and fucking me so hard my head would spin. Right here, in front of all these proper men in their conservative suits, watching as I screamed and climaxed again and again.

Now that particular image shook me and I did lose my train of thought for just a moment. I was never on the bottom in my fantasies.