How do I dominate and enamor the woman who’s in charge of signing my paycheck?

That’s the one question, Joshua Timbers, has been asking himself since he first stepped foot into his own personal Hell. JT, or Yoshi—as his tormentor likes to call him—has lived a life of hardship and loss since an early age. Being the product of a single parent home, he’s accustomed to hard work and lonely nights.

Seeing the strong man that raised him suffer after the loss of his mother made JT’s own heart harden. All that mattered was seeking instant gratification to curve his enormous appetite.

Until the blessed day he met his fallen angel, Janelle.

Beautiful, and with balls bigger than her entire crew, Janelle is accustomed to the leering looks of men, even though she’s their boss—the owner of Walker Constructions, alongside her brother.

Her beauty is untouchable to everyone, but how far will Joshua go to bend his hellion to his will and make her his?

“You wanted to see me?” At the sound of my voice, Janelle jumped in her seat. A tiny gasp escaped through her plumps lips, her eyes widening as our eyes locked. Gone was the secure seductress from earlier today. The one who walked through the job site’s parking area, hips swaying enticingly, while I held on for dear life to a slab of granite that she’d kill me for if I’d dropped.

Giving me shit while I couldn’t react. Not without consequences.

“Yeah, I…” She cleared her throat, swallowing hard as her eyes traversed my almost naked torso. It was my turn to be cocky.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” She didn’t like that one bit, the furrow in her brow and pursed lips telling me as much. “What’s up?”

Janelle sat behind her desk, a file open in front of her. Yet, except for those few papers strewn about, you couldn’t find any other sign of work. Not a goddamned receipt, invoice, or contract.

Then why did she look so tired? I’d be more than happy to discover what ailed her and take care of her every need. Teach her the pleasure I could give. How relaxed I’d leave her after taking what so sweetly hid between her thighs.

Taking in a deep breath, my girl squared her shoulders before standing up. Then, when she stood, I took in that she’d changed clothes. Gone was the sexy little number from before, the one that wrapped around her fucking beautiful body like a second skin and held a tiny bow across her hip.

I wanted to bite that string, hold it tight between my teeth, and like a rabid dog destroy it.

Now, she stood before me in something that could be a bit more dangerous for her—for the both of us. There she was; the picture of come-inducing innocence.

Denim fucking overalls.

These were not the standard Dickies brand work ones that came to mind. No. Fuck, no.

Janelle didn’t do simple. These were shorts; indecent and showed more than what was acceptable for this line of work. If she’d bent over just a tiny bit, her ass would peek out.

And my handprint would adorn the succulent flesh. I’d be fucked if she showed herself to anyone.

My eyes traveled up her body, and she shivered at my unapologetic perusal. So much skin. Temptation. Damn woman knew what her coy bullshit did to me.

“What the fuck are you wearing!” This wasn’t meant as a question; more like an angry demand for answers. Underneath her overalls she wore a simple white tube top. Tiny. Cropped. Barely covered her breasts. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I’d attack her little ass. Who could blame me after all the cat and mouse games we played?

“This old thing?” Batting her lashes, Janelle smiled at me. Baiting me into action.

“Are you looking to get fucked? Because if that’s what you want—”

“More like a ride.”

Her naturally perky tits held up by what seemed to be Lycra, nothing more. No bra strap. Just a quick tug—a pull, and I’d be savoring her taste. Enjoying the heaviness and natural sweet aroma she exuded.

“Janelle, walk away before I take what you aren’t ready to give.” I was vibrating; my hands clenched at my sides as a raging war battled within me. A man could only take so much. “Lord knows I’m trying here, but you keep pushing. Enough already…bend over, or let’s get out of here.”

“Eyes up here, Yoshi,” she snapped, mock anger coloring her tone at my abrasive words. But the quick inhale of air she took while I walked closer didn’t escape my notice. Her hands shook slightly, as if she wanted to reach out and touch me.

“And if I refuse?” Another step, her body trembling—just a slight uncontrollable shiver that she tried and failed to hide.

“Please.” Fuck. That one word—her tone, and I was putty in her motherfucking hands.

“Why should I?” Then, it wasn’t just her body that shook—shivered from anticipation. There wasn’t a single molecule of my DNA that didn’t want her.

Felt her presence.

Her damn hold on me.

Tethered in a way I had no way to explain.

“We can’t…just please.” Her voice was soft, breathy as she tried to put an invisible wall between us. She failed.

“I love hearing you beg,” I admitted, and she didn’t disappoint. There it was. That spark. The fire I’d come to expect from her. “Plus, I’m enjoying this too much to stop.”

“Fuck you.” Strike one. “And why should I beg? Men fall at my feet, Yoshi. I don’t bow down to anyone.” Janelle ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip and took her own step forward. Challenging me. Her reactions were making me dizzy.

One minute telling me to stop.

The next daring me to take her.

That entire room sizzled with our intensity.

Now, she was within my reach. So close. A mere two steps away.

Pulling her supple body against mine would be so easy. And she knew this, was aware of my every breath—every twitch of my cock against the denim of my jeans. Evading me as my hand reached out for her, and I growled out my displeasure.

“Answer me, Yoshi,” she taunted, while tapping that bottom lip I craved to taste. “Why should I beg?” Another groan left me at the sight. I wanted to grab her. Fuck her against that goddamned desk she was always bent over. Another step closer, and now we were almost touching.

Her heat seared me.

Instead of touching me, though, the sexy bitch decided to walk around me, all the while running a slim finger across my shoulder blades and chest.

“Quit fucking with me,” I all but snarled at her, body seizing, ready to devour my prey. “I’m not into games, sweetheart…bend over or move.” Because that’s what this was. A game. Survival of the fittest. Motherfucking prey versus predator.

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Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.
As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.
Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.

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