A Virgin Enslaved (Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male Erotic Romance) Read Free

be sex gods. I’ve been brought up to be a good girl with good, deeply entrenched family values of virtue and modesty.
    I’m starting to believe that I have been put here for a purpose. This is a test – of my willpower and reserve and my deep-seated commitment to my own values.
    I steel myself.
    I can do this.
    I smile. “Thank you, Chris. I take it that I’ll start tomorrow.”
    “Seeing as I’m left in a lurch without a PA, I’d rather you start right now. But tomorrow will be fine.”
    We both get up together, pushing back our respective chairs. He hands me back my portfolio, and I take it.
    “Sully in HR,” he says.
    “Right.” I take a step backwards and almost stumble. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.”
    I’m never going to get used to saying that name as long as I live, I swear.
    “Tomorrow then.” He regards me with that unsettling stare of his.
    I scuttle out of the room before I can embarrass myself further. Oh, this is a mistake. A major mistake, taking this job.
    What have I gotten myself into?

CHRIS

    I can’t stop thinking about the new girl as I step into my penthouse.
    What’s her name again? Elizabeth . . . something. I shouldn’t have given her portfolio back. Now I’m going to have to ring Steve Sully in HR to ask for it. But fuck. Steve is going to crap about why I hired a PA straight out of college.
    “You’re thinking with your balls, man,” he’s going to say. Steve and I go way back since college and he’s earned the right to say ‘balls’ to my face.
    He would be right too. I was thinking with my balls. And penis. And a thousand hormones coursing through my adrenal glands, or wherever testosterone is made in. The last time I thought with the organs south of my navel where hirings are concerned, I encountered big trouble.
    “Yeah,” I can hear Sully’s sarcastic tone, “tell me about it.”
    Sully was the one who kept me out of trouble in college, when every girl who thought she had a chance was throwing her panties at me, bending over, and holding her ankles while I took her from behind. I was a high school athlete into marathon running and tennis, and I suppose I was rich (old money) and not too bad-looking (mother’s genes), so I was fairly popular.
    As long as I treat each relationship as purely sexual, I’ll be OK. I even have ‘NEVER AGAIN’ tattooed in Sanskrit on my lower back to remind me of how fucking wrong emotional relationships can go.
    Oh yeah. NEVER AGAIN all right. I’ve learned my lesson. Leaned it marrow deep the hard, hard way.
    Rita has been here to clean, I can see from the way things are arranged. My cellphone buzzes in my pants pocket. I retrieve it. The flashing photo on the screen says that it’s TAYLOR.
    “Hi,” I say.
    “You free tonight?” a suggestive female voice asks on the other side.
    “Let me check my schedule.” I pretend to pause for a bit. “Yeah, I can slot you in for twenty minutes.”
    Sultry laughter. Taylor is on a roll. “Should we meet at your place?”
    “Why? Is Aaron out of town?”
    “Of course not. It’s his free pass night and he’s gone off with the boys to a strip club. You haven’t answered the question. Your place or mine?”
    “Neither. Here’s a clue. ‘Follow the white rabbit’.”
    “That’s almost too easy, even for you.”
    “See you there. And wear something nice.”
    “You betcha.”
    I ring off. In the hallway mirror, I have a wide smile on my face. Taylor is really something – blonde, blue-eyed, a total Valkyrie knockout. And happily married in one of those New Age open relationships to a guy who likes to see her fuck someone else as much as he likes to fuck her himself. Taylor is uncomplicated. She doesn’t want anything from me other than my hard body and harder organ, and it suits me just fine.
    But something else intrudes into my perfect vision of Taylor. The wide innocent brown eyes of that Elizabeth girl . . . I think her name is Tyrell . . . staring into mine. Her