WIP: There’s something about an asshole in a book #amwriting #erotic #romance

assHere’s that lil’ taste I promised you yesterday. Unedited. Be warned, my hero Sam is a bit of an asshole. It’s a classic romance story line. He’s the boss, a self-made man. She’s his employee, an entry-level worker. I guess you’ll have to see what I do with it, huh? LOL. This is how it starts…

“Who’s the late girl?”

“The late girl?”

“The page three girl in editorial with the long black hair, gold eyes and pink lips. Always wears black pants or skirts and white button downs.”

Sam Rhodes’ EA gave him side eye rather than turn around.

“What’s with the attitude? Answer me.” Cute. She was probably feeling protective. Women. Even when they were backstabbing, catty – or in Char’s case, silly – bitches, they’d pick the oddest times to stick together.

“Her name’s Laurel,” Char said reluctantly. “Sweet, southern, good little worker. But she’s being taken advantage of by her coworkers.”

“How so?”

“She’s a nice, eager to please girl, and they always give her their work, play on her kindness. Always talkin’ like, I gotta date. I gotta go get my hair done ‘cuz I gotta date. I got this, blah blah bah, can you help me? So, she works late doing her work and theirs, and they skip out before five.”

“How the hell long has this been going on?”

The phone rang. She held up a finger. “Hol’ on. Sam Rhodes office. This is Char speaking. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Yardley. You just missed him. May I take a message? I certainly will. Thank you for calling.”

Sam didn’t even blink. He was used to the coat switching by now From the Bronx to the big office, real quick, as she liked to say. “The late girl?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. They been clownin’ her damn near ever since she got here. It’s been a good few months now.”

That gorgeous female had been right here under his nose for months? He was working too hard. Her curvy little ass should have been bent over his couch at least a half dozen times by now. He’d need at least that many fucks to properly anoint all those curves.

She gave new meaning to the phrase pocket Venus. She was like a modern day Rosie the Riveter only with black hair. And that accent, soft, sweet. It would sound wonderful in the dark. Then again, so would nothing, especially if that pink mouth of hers was full of his dick. And she’d been working for him for months? He was definitely slipping. Times gone by he’d never have let a prime piece of pussy like that escape his attention.

But things had been so fucking good with business lately. Money was coming in hand over fist from new advertisers, and the consulting arm of his business was growing so rapidly, it would soon eclipse even his advertising revenue. Pussy had been the last thing on his mind. A fact his balls chose to remind him of when he spied the girl last night working late.

“Hmmm.”

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?”

What the hell was she on about? “I’m the boss aren’t I?”

Char just rolled her eyes and started typing like the speed of light, the dangling decorations on her nails flying every which way.

He was in the zone and had been working for a few hours without interruption when the phone buzzed. “Yeah.”

“Your 4 pm wants to move the meeting to 5:30 at The Knickerbocker.”

Sam scoffed. “No. That broad must think I’m stupid.” A potential partner was more interested in him than in his business, and she’d tried to reschedule their last two in office meetings for drinks at nearby hotels. “Give her two times tomorrow, and let her know if she can’t make it, my schedule is booked up until the first of the year. Actually, forget it. Cancel. Tell her I’ll be in touch.” He wouldn’t. He didn’t need her money or her bullshit, and he certainly didn’t need her spoiled, old, I-think-I-can-buy-anything-I-want-with-my-husband’s-money pussy…

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