The Good Assistant – Fourth Scene
The Good Assistant, my sexy new contemporary erotic romance, will be releasing on October 21st.
Here’s the fourth scene
“Bass wants to meet tomorrow, eleven thirty, half an hour, my office.”
John already has a meeting tomorrow at eleven thirty. I maintain my blank expression, not showing my dismay. His schedule will have to be rearranged yet again. “Yes, sir.” I extract his keys and wallet from the pocket of his suit pants and I hold them out to him. His fingers brush over mine as he retrieves his essentials.
“Bass is an idealistic kid,” my boss declares.
“Yes, sir,” I dutifully reply. Rexton Bass is two years younger than John and three years older than I am. “His proposal has legs though.”
“So you say,” John drawls. “Walk with me, Grant.”
He waits for me to exit first and then stalks soundlessly behind me, his tread light for such a large man. My boss prefers that I walk in front of him. I suspect this is to buffer him from overzealous employees.
“Is she meeting me at the venue?” he asks.
Is she meeting him? I smother my grin. He doesn’t remember his date’s name. “Yes, a car has been dispatched for Marcia. You sent her the usual dozen red roses.”
“What did you put on the card?” John presses the button for the elevator. “I hope the message wasn’t emotional. The last one was a clinger, wanted my direct number.” The doors open. He allows me to enter first.
“You wrote the standard ‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.’” I wave my passcard over the sensor and choose executive parking, ensuring the elevator makes no other stops. “Marcia is an actress.” I prep him. “She plays a vampire in a TV series.”
“I don’t plan to talk to her.” John frowns, crowding me into the right rear corner. “Have your phone on. We have work to do.”
We always have work to do. “My phone will be on all night, sir.” I stare at his back, my view obstructed by one massive male.
“Don’t sound so grumpy, Grant. I told you, when I hired you, this was a full time job.” John glares over his shoulder, his expression stormy as though I’ve insulted him by wanting a social life. “I deserve to be grumpy. I did what you said and tested that damn chair for three days. It’s a piece of shit. I don’t need the massage mode. I need something I can sit on.”
I sigh. Other top executives raved about the chair, claiming it relaxed them. “I’ll return it tomorrow, sir.”
“And why am I attending this event?” He bumps against me, the contact sending a surge of sweet sensation over my body. “Couldn’t we have written the charity a check and be done with it?” He slides a finger between his neck and collar and pulls, loosening his bowtie. “You know I hate these things.”
I do know he hates these events, his mood always darkening before he has to make an appearance. “A wise man once told me we all have to do things we don’t want to do,” I quote him.
He turns his head and narrows his brown eyes at me. “That wise man should be working.”
“That wise man should take advantage of this event and hobnob with the Mayor.” I give my goal-oriented boss a task to accomplish. “The zoning issues won’t fix themselves.”
“Are you handling me, Grant?”
“I wouldn’t presume to do that, sir.” The doors open and I walk in front of him to the waiting limousine. Dave, John’s smartly dressed driver, stands by the vehicle. “The Mayor made a comment to the press recently about the absurdity of non-fraternization policies so you might not want to mention that topic.”
“I don’t want to mention any topic. Small talk is a waste of time.” John pauses, looming over me, big and tall and very, very male. “It would be more efficient if assistants could attend these events.”
He wants me by his side. A fierce joy fills me. “This is personal, not business.”
“For me, it is always business.” John’s gaze lowers, lingering on my legs. “Your skirt seems to be shrinking.” His eyes glow. “You might want to look into that.”
He noticed the length of my skirt. “I’ll add that to my long list of things to do.”
“You do that.” John chuckles softly, the sound unexpected, arousing, real. “Don’t leave the building without letting me know first. I’ll call you.” He climbs into the limousine.
I wait, watching as the man I love, the boss I adore is driven away. He’ll spend the night being wined and dined by the city’s elite, touched and held by one of the most beautiful women on the planet. I’ll be alone. Again.
As I trudge toward the bank of elevators, my phone buzzes. The number displayed on the screen belongs to John. I’m not completely alone. I smile, my spirits lifting.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
My boss, John Powers, represents everything I want 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.
Pre-order Now:
On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Good-Assistant-City-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B013O33EKM
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegoodassistant-1870006-340.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-good-assistant-cynthia-sax/1122572951
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on The Good Assistant – Fourth Scene
The Good Assistant – Third Scene
The Good Assistant, my sexy new contemporary erotic romance, will be releasing on October 21st.
Here’s the third scene
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 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. I smugly tug the metal teeth of his zipper closer together and slowly pull the tab upward, stretching the black fabric of his pants over his hardness. His knuckles whiten around the frame of his phone.
I reach into the right front pocket of his pants, pressing my fingers into his hip as I remove the cufflinks I’ve stored there, the devil in me teasing him more, seeking to ensure he’s aware of me. John’s gaze flicks downward, his eyes excitingly dark, tempestuous, holding a warning I won’t, can’t heed.
I grasp his left wrist, fold the cotton neatly and insert the cufflink, my head bent over my task. John’s knuckles are scarred, silver slashes marring his tanned skin, a testament to his rough childhood and his warrior soul. He acts the sophisticated man now but he has fought for every thing he’s earned, building his business from nothing.
John transfers his phone from his right hand to his left and I fasten his right cuff, resisting the urge to kiss his scars, to lave the raised skin with the flat of my tongue, to care for him the way I yearn to care for him.
“Breakeven should never be your goal.” John bends over, lowering his face to my eyelevel. I retrieve his bowtie and loop the strip of black fabric around his scarred neck. “Grant must have told you that also.” My normally direct boss avoids my gaze as he straightens.
Could Stacie be right? I fasten the black cummerbund around his waist. Could John be interested in me?
“She’ll set it up.”
I hold out his jacket and he shrugs into it. My heart squeezes. Clad in his normal suits, John’s appeal damages my control. In a tuxedo, he’s downright lethal. I brush my hands over his shoulders and place a folded cloth handkerchief in his pocket, completing his sophisticated ensemble.
“We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow.” John ends the call, lowering his phone.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
My boss, John Powers, represents everything I want 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.
Pre-order Now:
On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Good-Assistant-City-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B013O33EKM
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegoodassistant-1870006-340.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-good-assistant-cynthia-sax/1122572951
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on The Good Assistant – Third Scene
The Good Assistant – Second Scene
The Good Assistant, my sexy new contemporary erotic romance, will be releasing on October 21st.
Here’s the second scene
I stare at her. “How does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to lock you in his man cave. He’s super protective of you.” She tilts her head. “But maybe that’s because you’re his assistant. He relies upon you.”
John Powers doesn’t rely upon anyone. He built his real estate empire on his own, having no industry contacts, overcoming poverty and a lack of a college education.
“I always speak before I think.” Stacie laughs. “Forget I said anything.”
She talks about switching jobs and her new roommate and the movie she saw last night, her conversation not requiring any contribution from me.
This is a good thing as all I can think about is her observation about my boss. She has to be wrong. John doesn’t want me. He doesn’t even lust after the gorgeous supermodels and actresses he dates, his attitude toward the women apathetic.
The elevator doors open at the marketing floor. “This is me.” Stacie laughs again. “It was good talking to you, Miss Grant.” She exits, her skirt flipping upward, revealing more of her tanned legs.
I gaze at my reflection. The hem of my black skirt suit reaches my knees. I impulsively reach under my jacket and pull my skirt three inches higher.
My cheeks heat. I’m a fool. John won’t notice the length of my skirt. I’m his assistant, a woman who picks up his dry cleaning, manages his schedule and arranges his dates.
The doors open, revealing the slick, stylish executive floor. I smile at Nancy, the receptionist, as I pass her antique desk. She wears a headset, her lips moving, her words hushed. Although it is five thirty-five in the afternoon, four men in dark suits wait in the brown leather chairs.
They aren’t waiting for John. My boss is attending a charity dinner tonight. His meetings for the day are done.
I hustle along the hallway, my heels falling soundlessly on the padded brown carpet. Gold-framed pictures depicting Powers-owned real estate hang on the beige walls. The desks are spaced widely apart, the corner offices claimed by board members. Every meeting room is filled with corporate decision-makers.
The ultimate decision-maker has his door open, uncaring about his state of undress. 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.
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
My boss, John Powers, represents everything I want 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.
Pre-order Now:
On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Good-Assistant-City-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B013O33EKM
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegoodassistant-1870006-340.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-good-assistant-cynthia-sax/1122572951
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on The Good Assistant – Second Scene
The Good Assistant – First Scene
The Good Assistant, my sexy new contemporary erotic romance, will be releasing on October 21st.
Here is the first scene from the first chapter
As I push through the revolving doors and enter Powers Corporation’s glass and marble lobby, my phone hums against my hip. It can’t be my too-sexy-for-any-woman’s-sanity boss. He called me two minutes ago.
I drape the dry cleaning bag over my shoulder, unclip my phone from my skirt’s waistband and groan. It is my boss. John Powers, billionaire, CEO, and unabashed control freak, is calling me yet again. I sigh. He goes a little crazy whenever I leave the building.
“You have a conference call at five thirty with Rexton Bass, Mr. Powers,” I answer, skipping the formalities. My boss has no patience with small talk. I quicken my pace, my heels tapping against the fine basket weave tile.
“I know where I’m supposed to be.” John’s growl sends a shiver of excitement rolling down my spine, tightening my nipples and heating my skin. He’s the only man who can turn me on with his voice alone. “Where the hell are you, Grant? And where the hell is my shirt?”
John calls everyone by his or her last name. I wouldn’t mind this quirk if my last name was at all feminine or sexy. “I have your shirt, sir, and I’ll be in your office in five minutes.” I avoid the receptionist’s pleading gaze as I pass her desk, turning toward the bank of elevators. Men and women in dark suits crowd around her. All of these visitors want a meeting with my insanely busy boss.
“Get that perky ass moving. I don’t have all day,” John barks. “I’ll be waiting for you in my briefs.” The phone clicks and there’s silence.
My hot-as-hell boss is waiting for me in his briefs. I stare at the small screen, visions of tanned skin, hard muscle, and dark brown hair flooding my overworked, sexually deprived brain.
John doesn’t mean anything provocative by his statement. He doesn’t see me as a woman. I attach the phone to my waistband and press the button for the elevator. He doesn’t see me at all. I’m a resource, an extension of his office like his desk or laptop.
The elevator doors open and I step inside.
“Miss Grant, wait up!”
I hold the doors open and Stacie Moore, the company’s newest, most aggressive marketing coordinator, flounces across the threshold, her large breasts jiggling. She’s blonde, beautiful, and generously endowed. If she wasn’t an employee, she’d be a perfect candidate for John’s next one night stand. I select the button for the top floor.
“Is that Mr. Powers’ shirt?” Stacie plucks at the dry cleaning bag. “My, he has wide shoulders, doesn’t he?” Her blue eyes glow.
I know all about my boss’ potent affect on women. I fell in love with him during my job interview. That was three years ago and my obsession with him hasn’t dimmed, not one bit. “Mr. Powers doesn’t mix personal and business matters, Miss Moore.” I jab the button for the marketing floor.
Stacie lifts her eyebrows. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
I don’t say anything as I do get straight to the point. Working for John has trained me to cut through the bullshit.
“I like that.” She grins. “So you and Mr. Powers aren’t together?” She dances in place, her short skirt hiking up with each wiggle. “You aren’t a couple?”
A couple? John and I? I glance at my reflection in the mirrored walls. I remain a plain, flat-chested brunette. I haven’t magically become a curvy blonde, a woman worthy of these outrageous assumptions. “He’s my boss and that’s the extent of our relationship.”
Lines appear between Stacie’s finely arched eyebrows. “Mr. Powers doesn’t look at you like a boss looks at his employee.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
My boss, John Powers, represents everything I want 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.
Pre-order Now:
On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Good-Assistant-City-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B013O33EKM
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thegoodassistant-1870006-340.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-good-assistant-cynthia-sax/1122572951
Topics: Coming Soon | Comments Off on The Good Assistant – First Scene
