Welcome to MWT where my friends and I post a little something from a WIP, flash fiction piece or published work for you, the readers. This week I'm give you a peek at one of my current WIPs and hope you enjoy.
Here's an unedited taste of, Spanked by the Bad Boy:
Declan Cage pulled up onto the large paved lot of Stoub Engineering and parked his custom chopper, listing to the smooth tocato-tocato-tocato sound of the motor as it purred. He needed a moment to put on his poker face before he turned off the ignition and went inside to speak with Matthew Stoub’s personal assistant. She was a real piece of eye-candy, but also a real piece of work. He’d been collaborating with Matthew on a large commercial construction project for the last month, yet no matter how many times he spoke to Matthew’s assistant, she acted as if it were the first time meeting him.
He ran his fingers through his newly buzzed-off hair, realizing the gesture to be one of habit more than necessity. Since he’d cut off his tawny locks, he didn’t have enough hair for the wind to tousle. Declan glanced at his reflection in the side mirror and scowled. The expression wasn’t his poker face, but it would work. He turned his bike off, and prepared for what was to come.
Today wouldn’t be any different than the other times he spoke with Matthew’s assistant. She’d act like she couldn’t remember his name, and he’d tell her, again, and that was completely irritating. He suspected her “I have no clue” guise to be part of the game they played, because he was aware of her and that prissy attitude that intrigued him more than anything. Probably because Ms. Brooks was begging to be taken into hand and he was the man to do it.
Declan thought about her and her big blue eyes that sparkled brightly when she looked at him. Her pixie features and the way her nose turned up slightly at the end. That perfect creamy colored skin she showed too much of. The way she filled out her always too tight sweaters. The sway of her hips when she walked. Her sexy legs highlighted by short skirts and the fuck-me heels she wore. He shuddered with the thought of those long glossy-red manicured fingernails scratching their way up his back….
Declan smirked, flexed his muscles, and dismounted his bike.
There’s no way little miss priss isn’t totally aware of you.
Tiffany Brooks heard a familiar sound. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw, him. Straddling his chrome bike, wearing chunky leather work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt with the DC Construction logo imprinted on the back, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat. She touched her chest and frowned.
You are not attracted to that man, Tiffany. He’s all wrong for you.
She tucked a piece of her sable brown hair behind her ear, straightened her shoulders, and put on her best toothy-white smile as he entered the building.
“Good morning,” she said.
He bobbed his chin. “Morning, Ms. Brooks.”
She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep a particular non interest about him, though the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish, especially since Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”
She stared at him, blank faced.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good with names,” she said.
“I’m Declan.” He slightly turned to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo. The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged from beneath the shirt.
“Oh yes.” She waved her hand. “The owner. Correct?”
“You’ve got it.”
Of course she knew who he was, but she loved bugging the hell out of him. Tiffany suspected when she said she didn’t remember his name she got under his skin. She wasn’t too sure why she enjoyed prodding him though, other than the fact by the expression on his face, he wasn’t use to women not remembering him.
Continuing her, “I’m a busy professional who’s not impressed by you” charade, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him. “How may I help you today?”
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