Sunday Snog: Nasty Business

I spent a very long day today, re-editing my 2003 novel Ruby's Rules. I've regained the rights and I'm planning to bring out a new and improved version (hey - even my writing has improved over the past decade!) under the more appropriate title Nasty Business.  I hope that in the hands of Books We Love, this sizzling novel of power games and nasty passion will finally get the attention it deserves!

Anyway, one thing I noticed is that the book includes lots of kisses. So I thought I'd share one with you today.

After you enjoy my snippet, head over to Snog Central, hosted by the marvelous Victoria Blisse, for lots more lip-to-lip action from your favorite authors.

I roll the chair back from the desk and cross one leg over the other, gracefully, deliberately. My skirt rides up, exposing a substantial length of thigh. He notices. I can see his shoulders tighten, and there’s a stirring in the crotch of his trousers. 

 

Despite my clouded mood, a spark of triumph shimmers through me, and then, in its wake, the inevitable frisson of arousal. My suddenly damp knickers cling to my flesh. Surreptitiously I tighten my quadriceps and relish the way the contraction compresses my hidden clit. Subtle pleasure ripples through me. 
 

As though he senses my body awakening, he straightens, raises his chin a bit, sniffs the air like a dog. Like the sniveling, mangy mongrel that he is. I’ll bloody well bring him to heel. I will, I swear it.

“Rick,” I bark, and he jumps visibly. “Come over here.” He complies, coming to stand next to the guest chair across the desk from me. He moves to seat himself, but I stop him. “I didn’t tell you to sit, did I?” He looks at me, amazed, annoyed, and obviously increasingly excited. He shakes his head. “Then don’t.”

“You’re a scoundrel, Rick. A scoundrel and a traitor. Why didn’t you tell me that you knew my father? That you had him convinced you were his friend?”

“I was his friend,” Rick begins. I cut him short with a baleful glare.

“Some friend! Friends don’t take advantage of each other. Friends don’t lie to each other. Friends keep each other’s confidences.”

“What are you talking about?” He sounds confused and defensive.

“The foundry, of course. It was my father who brought it to your attention, showed you its potential. He intended to acquire it for The Maxwell Companies. Then you turn around and stab him in the back by stealing the deal away from him.”

“How...?”

“Never mind. I should have realized a lot sooner that you had inside information, and put two and two together.”

“Liu and I planned to go into business together. The foundry was going to be a joint project.”

“Oh? Why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s true. I can show you the preliminary documents, if you want. Then came the accident, and everything got put on hold. The next thing that I know, you’re talking to Baktar and I’m completely out of the picture. I guess I was pissed off to find myself being ignored. I decided that I needed the fab for myself.”

“Why didn’t my father tell me that he had a partner in the deal? He never even mentioned you.”

Rick gives me a harried look. “I don’t know, Ruby. He talked a lot about you. He planned to send you to Malaysia to do a final inspection of the plant. He wanted me to join you there, to give you a technical briefing.” This, at least, was confirmed by the email I had read. “Maybe he wanted you to form your own conclusions about me. Maybe he thought you’d be jealous, if you knew that he was mentoring me.” A ghost of a grin flits across his irregular features. “He did say that you were hot-blooded, and had a fierce temper...”

“Did he indeed?” I say ironically, trying to keep the misery out of my voice. I’d thought that I knew my father so well, that I was privy to all his secrets. The revelation that he kept things from me, that he had other confidants, is painful. I lean forward, deliberately allowing Martell a glimpse of my cleavage, and look him in the eye. He licks his lips nervously. “So, was he right about me, Rick?”

“I don’t know, Ruby,” he replies softly. “I don’t know you well enough to say.” He pauses, raises his eyes to mine. “But I’d like to.”

I can’t comprehend how it happens. One moment he is standing there across from me, with the desk safely between us. The next, he’s beside me, pulling me to my feet. Kissing me. His wiry arms snake around me, pulling me to his chest. His lips are firm on mine, exploring rather than demanding. His scent swirls around me, dizzying me. The embers smoldering in my sex leap into flame.

“Rick...” I begin, but the taste and texture and presence of him overwhelm me. My objection melts into an inarticulate murmur of pleasure.

He kisses with his whole body. His hands are everywhere, stroking my arse, teasing my nipples. His knee finds its way into my crotch and sets up a rhythmic pressure that soon has me swollen and dripping. He is swollen, too. Brazenly, he rubs his rigid cock against my thigh, as he plunges his tongue more deeply into my mouth.

“Ruby,” he murmurs, alternating words with nibbles and licks. “I want you so badly. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

I don’t reply. This is hardly news to me, but confidence and lust surge together in me, to hear him admit it. I reach down and give his balls a moderately vicious squeeze. He moans and grinds himself harder against me.

I need to break this embrace in order to gain the upper hand. I need to take advantage of his moment of weakness. But his carnal attentions are intoxicating. It’s difficult for me to break away. I’m like an alcoholic, wanting just one more drink, one more kiss, one more of his lewd caresses.

It might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I finally manage to gather my strength and push him away. He doesn’t resist, just stands there looking at me. His clothes are wrinkled. One shirt tail is hanging out of his pants. His longish hair is tangled around his ears. In objective terms, he looks a bit pathetic. Certainly not what one would call sexy.

Yet my heart is slamming away like a jackhammer in my chest. I’m panting as though I’ve just done fifty sit ups, and damp – all over. His cherry pipe tobacco flavor lingers in my mouth. The echoes of his questing hands linger on my skin. The lack of his touch is a physical ache. I need those hands, those lips, that brash cock, need the relief that it seems only he can provide.

Be strong. Be ice. “What would you do?” I hold his eyes. “What would you give, to have me? Would you give up the foundry if I gave my body to you?”

I could swear that something like shame clouds his features briefly, then his eyes flash. “You can have the damned foundry, Ruby. I won’t stand in your way. I won’t fight you anymore. Regardless.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out his hand and strokes my cheek. “In any case, Ruby, I want more than just your body.”

His voice is barely audible, but something leaps up inside me in answer. Excitement, fear, anger? I’m not sure what it is. I only know that it races through my body and turns me to liquid weakness. It’s a long moment before I can frame a scornful reply.

“What do you want, American devil? My soul?”