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  Executive Package

  EXECUTIVE PACKAGE

  All Romance eBooks Edition

  Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:

  EXECUTIVE PACKAGE © 2014 by Cleo Peitsche. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.

  This book contains mature content and is solely for adults.

  Cover Photo ©2014 by Pouch Pictures

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing this ebook. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I look forward to sharing more of my stories with you.

  xoxo,

  Cleo

  Other Titles By Cleo

  After Forever/Bisexual Billionaire Trilogy (Threesome Romance)

  Careless

  Hopeless

  Fearless

  Office Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Office Toy

  Client Satisfaction

  Company Vacation

  Flex Time

  Soft Skills

  Executive Package

  Take Me Hard Series (BDSM Romance)

  Ride Me Hard

  Love Me Hard

  Use Me Hard

  Take Me Hard Compilation #1

  Push Me Hard

  Fantasy Playland Series (BDSM)

  Sleeping Lady

  Sleeping chez Sade

  Wide Awake

  Wide Open

  His Kiss

  Fantasy Playland Box Set

  Mistress Moi Series (Femdom)

  My Three Slaves

  Cuckold Chuck

  Faye-Faye and the Sadist

  Bad Boyfriend Series (Femdom Romance)

  Bad Boyfriend

  Anthologies

  Underground Erotica

  Black tie.

  The very words struck fear into Elle’s heart. She stood across from the grandiose building, clutching the glittering purse that Jonathan, one of her bosses, had given her earlier that day. Her hair and makeup were professionally done, and the long, shimmering red dress clung to her curves exactly as the designer had promised.

  Elle’s three bosses and lovers had spared no expense. This was the evening they presented her to their world as their girlfriend, and they wanted her to feel like she belonged.

  In the office that afternoon, Elle locked herself in a conference room and practiced walking in the tight dress. After she managed that, she worked on sitting without collapsing into the chair like a sparkly red sack of potatoes.

  And here she was, all dressed up and afraid to enter the building. A frostily beautiful blonde passed close by, a wave of expensive perfume in her wake. The woman’s long, toned legs flashed through the thigh-high slits in her liquid golden dress. She walked like she’d been born to this. She probably had been.

  An attendant opened the door for the woman, and soft, melodic strains of violin floated out of the building. If the musicians were still playing, then Elle wasn’t late. Yet. Her mouth went dry. Her lovers would be wondering what happened to her. She squeezed the purse and shifted her weight from one stiletto-heeled foot to the other while she tried to calm her panic.

  She closed her eyes and Cunningham’s handsome, stern face hovered in front of her. She shook her head. If she went home, Cunningham would take it the hardest. She didn’t want to let him down… but she couldn’t bring herself to go in, either.

  A strong, warm hand encircled her elbow. “You look amazing, Elle.”

  She turned and found herself staring up into Nolan’s intense blue eyes. She frowned and licked her lips, her mind registering how his tousled dark hair had been tamed for the occasion, and the tuxedo he wore fit his athletic frame perfectly. His smile was magnetic, pulling her closer to him.

  “I thought you’d be inside by now,” she said, her voice small.

  Nolan nodded a greeting at someone passing behind them, then his gaze returned to hers. His eyebrow crept up. “And I thought you’d be standing out here, trying to talk yourself into coming in.” His deep voice crawled seductively along Elle’s skin. He offered her his elbow. “It’ll be ok. We won’t leave your side.”

  When Elle didn’t take his arm, Nolan did it for her, slipping her arm through his, but she stood rooted to the spot.

  “Come on.”

  “They’ll all know,” Elle said. “They’ll…”

  “The whole point is for everyone to know, and who cares if they approve?” Nolan’s eyes were darkening, which meant he was angry. “You know the best part about being rich?”

  Thinking it was a rhetorical question, Elle didn’t reply. In fact, she knew nothing about being rich apart from what she’d observed since starting at Cunningham & Associates.

  “The very best part about being rich?” he repeated, his voice rising. Elle ducked her head nervously, the tips of her ears heating.

  Nolan laughed. “Go on, Elle, take a guess,” he said, his voice booming.

  She shrugged helplessly, her fingers clutching the purse.

  “The very best part about being obscenely…” He threw his arms wide open. With his toned body in the elegant tux, he looked like a secret agent. “… Disgustingly…” He turned in a circle. “… Filthy rich is—” He raised his arms, his tuxedo jacket tightening across his broad shoulders. He was an attractive man, with an elegantly muscular body and classically handsome features. People were staring, but Nolan continued, oblivious. “… Is not having to give a damn what anyone thinks!” he roared.

  A group of five guys around Elle’s age—early to mid-twenties—were passing by. “Hell, yeah,” one of them said. They wore black sweatpants and matching hoodies with Deathtrap Stunts embroidered across the chest.

  Elle’s face burned.

  Nolan reached into a pocket and pulled out a few bills. “Do you have a moment?” he asked.

  The guy who had spoken paused.

  “You do stunts? Can you do a cartwheel?” Nolan asked.

  “Nah, man. More like choreography.” He shadowboxed two punches, his movements graceful.

  “I can,” one of his friends volunteered with alacrity, his eyes trained on the money in Nolan’s hand. “Flips, too.”

  “Can you?” Nolan raised his eyebrows and turned to Elle. “Did you hear that? This young man can do a flip. Would you like to see that? I know I would.”

  The five guys jostled each other. Elle pressed her fingers to her temple. Nolan was older than she was, but he was still only in his late twenties—it was ludicrous for him to refer to anyone out of diapers as a “young man.” She snuck a glance at the imposing building, wondering what would happen if she made a run for it, hid in the bathroom. Unfortunately, a small group of well-heeled attendees paused at the entrance, their attention likely first captured by Nolan’s lunatic screaming, and now they waited, curious to see what would happen next.

  “I can do a flip, too,” another guy volunteered. The skin between his eyebrows was pierced with a miniature barbell, and tribal tattoos crawled along his neck.

  “Me, too.” The speaker indicated his friends with a jerk of his head. “We’re part of a stunt team, right.”

  “Oh, right,” Nolan said easily. “I saw trailers earlier. Movie stars?”

  “Yeah. We wish. We do the hard work, they get the credit.”

  “How about a fight?” Nolan asked. “Make it look good.”
<
br />   The guy who couldn’t do a cartwheel held up his phone and a pair of quarter-sized black ovals. “Music and speakers.”

  “Perfect,” Nolan said. He handed each of the stuntmen five one-hundred dollar bills. “Is that fair?”

  “Better than we got filming on set today.”

  Nolan peeled off two more bills for each of them. “Show my girlfriend your best routine. Oh, and I’m not liable if you split your heads open,” he added. Elle gave him a dirty look for that, but he shrugged it off, the light scents of Oakmoss and aftershave rolling off of him.

  “No worries. We’re pros.” The guys shoved the money into their pockets, huge grins on their faces. Elle shifted uncomfortably. She had no doubt that they’d go home and talk about the crazy rich guy who was giving his money away.

  Nolan slipped his arm over Elle’s shoulder as a ground-shaking bass beat exploded from the tiny speakers. The guys did a quick stretch. Some sort of invisible signal passed between them, and then fists were flying.

  Elle gasped as one of the guys slammed his fist into another’s solar plexus. He backed up, and his friend wobbled around for two steps, then hit the ground, his legs flying up like one of the Three Stooges.

  “Look around you,” Nolan whispered into her ear. “What do you see?”

  She stiffly glanced about. “I see people who are going to be late for the awards banquet.”

  “I see folks enjoying themselves. You’re the only one who’s worried.” He smirked that infuriatingly smug, prep-boy smile of his. Whenever she considered retiring the label, he went and did something like hiring a bunch of passersby to entertain him. Yup, he was spoiled through and through, and she couldn’t believe that she’d even considered thinking otherwise.

  “It’s not so bad to be the center of attention,” Nolan said, “and you can’t hide away just because you’re worried that people are talking about you.”

  “I’m not hiding away.”

  “Elle.”

  “What?” she asked peevishly.

  Nolan fixed her with that look, that one that meant he knew her better than she knew herself. Which was pretty accurate. Despite his foibles, he was usually the first to realize when problems appeared in the relationship. He’d predicted that she’d fall for Cunningham. He’d befriended her when she was at her loneliest. He also had predicted that she’d choose to marry Cunningham when the time came, though Elle wasn’t sure if he realized she’d overheard that.

  He brushed the tip of her nose with his finger. “You’ve been holed up in the office working nonstop. Why?”

  “Because it’s my job and my boss is a slave driver.”

  He laughed. “Point taken, but Cunningham never wanted you to work until 10:00 at night.” He shook his head. “It was your idea that we all live together, but now you’re too busy to go house hunting. So let’s get the relationship out there. We’ll do it fast, in front of everyone, like pulling off a bandaid.”

  “That’s not a flattering image. And anyway, yanking them off fast still hurts,” Elle pointed out, crossing her arms awkwardly over her chest.

  “Since when are you afraid of a little pain?”

  The five guys were now kickboxing. Other than a lack of blood, it looked real. Quite a crowd was forming, shiny faces excited at the spectacle.

  “Can we go in?” Elle asked. Between a roomful of judgmental millionaires and billionaires and the one perceptive, unrelenting billionaire that was Nolan, Elle decided to choose the lesser of two evils.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He offered his arm, and this time Elle accepted, leaning into his solidity.

  She kept a death grip on Nolan as they entered the ballroom. It was larger than she’d been prepared for, filled with a sea of white-draped tables. She smelled the flowers almost before she noticed the centerpieces bursting with perfect, delicate pink roses. Perhaps due to the impromptu street fight that Nolan had orchestrated, a full third of the invitees were still missing.

  Which meant that two-thirds were seated, their sleek heads tilted together in whispered conversations. A woman’s high laugh tinkled through the room. As they progressed, curious eyes turned toward Elle and Nolan.

  “Breathe, Elle,” Nolan ordered, “or I’ll be forced to give you mouth-to-mouth right here. For your own good, of course.” His hand was pressed hard on hers, keeping her from running in the opposite direction.

  She would have slowed, but Nolan kept his pace. “Walking down the aisle with you? Could be practice,” he murmured into her ear. Elle stumbled, but Nolan kept her upright.

  The table for Cunningham & Associates was located at the very front of the room. Cunningham and Jonathan waited there in identical black tuxedos.

  Jonathan saw her, and he stood, nudging Cunningham, who turned and rose to his feet. Both men stared at her hungrily, and Elle suddenly felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. All the conversations had stopped, and the only noises were the soft scuffles of Elle’s and Nolan’s shoes on the carpet.

  A wisp of her reddish-brown hair escaped the loose updo. Elle shook it out of her eyes and licked her lips again, which had gone dry.

  By the time they reached the other two men, she was trembling all over. She looked up into Cunningham’s dark eyes, pleading silently with him, but knowing it was futile; he would never be the one to take pity on her, and Jonathan and Nolan had been in full agreement about what would happen this night.

  “Please,” Elle whispered, her voice shaking as Cunningham moved closer. Her arm was still linked through Nolan’s, and to her horror, Nolan’s hand dropped possessively to the small of her back, leaving no doubt to the observers that he wasn’t a platonic friend.

  Cunningham slowly raised his hand, drawing out the moment, and rubbed his thumb over Elle’s lips. His intense gaze was sober. He was clean-shaven, and Elle could smell his spicy aftershave mixed with the intoxicating aroma of power that Cunningham always exuded.

  At first glance, most people took Cunningham for an athlete, which wasn’t untrue, but he was first and foremost an astute businessman. Everything about him screamed alpha male: the breadth of his shoulders, the girth of his biceps, his square jaw, the thick, dark hair and tan skin. He trapped her face in his hands, holding her gently but firmly. “Who are you?” he asked.

  Elle’s tremors turned into quakes. “I… I don’t understand.”

  “You are ours,” he said, his growling voice warm on her skin.

  She whimpered, the noise floating in the silent ballroom.

  He pressed his lips against hers. Cunningham was the most dominant man Elle had ever encountered, and his kisses were often an assault, a prelude to his commanding her to do whatever kinky—and frequently deliciously degrading—acts that struck his fancy.

  But this was something else entirely. He was taking his time. Publicly claiming her, slow and tortuous for the entire world to see. Instead of forcing her to accept his entry, he teased her lips until she yielded to him, her body helplessly obedient after months of his domination. On and on he kissed her, exploring her mouth, stroking his tongue over hers. By the time he released her, she was reeling.

  Cunningham stepped aside, and Jonathan caught her. She stiffened, knowing that once Jonathan kissed her, it could never be unseen by the silent and shocked audience of his peers.

  Jonathan turned her chin toward him, his eyebrows raised, his gaze penetrative. He was so very beautiful, her playful Jonathan. If he’d been anywhere near that movie set, he would have had crowds demanding signed head shots. His tall, lean muscularity and golden, confident looks made heads swivel nonstop. While he didn’t exactly love the constant attention, he handled it graciously, never demeaning the women who panted after him with stars in their eyes.

  “Elle,” he murmured. “I love you. You know that, and now everyone will.” He leaned in close to her ear. “Frankly, I’m tired of all these hot women throwing themselves at me. It’ll be a relief for them to stop.”

  She almost smiled. Like Cunn
ingham, he cupped her face in his hands, but if she’d wanted to pull away, he might have allowed it, granting her a few more moments to collect herself.

  But she couldn’t. Hurting Jonathan? She’d rather drag a knife across her own wrists. She stared into his beautiful blue eyes. Her Nordic warrior. If he’d showed up to plunder her village, she wouldn’t have known whether to run screaming or take off her clothes and lie down.

  “Kiss incoming in three… two…” His mouth grazed hers. Heat spread over Elle as she tasted aromatic traces of red wine on his lips. She sighed, and he dominated her fully, his tongue claiming her mouth in a way that was wholly unsuitable outside of a bedroom. He kissed her like heroes kissed heroines, full of love and lust and certainty, and she was helpless to resist.

  “Delicious,” he said. His eyes searched hers before he released her.

  He and Cunningham exchanged a glance, then Nolan leaned in. Nolan had been in love with her the longest, hiding his feelings while she pined for Cunningham’s elusive approval, and every bit of his adoration was evident in the way he dipped her backward and kissed her.

  Elle dug her fingers into his muscular shoulders, her nails slipping on the fabric of his jacket. Nolan finished his kiss by raking his teeth over her soft, exposed throat, normally a prelude to hot, sweaty sex. Someone in the room gasped, scandalized, and Elle’s face burned even more.

  He straightened, gently released her, and ran a hand through his dark hair, smiling. “You should know that if Cunningham had gotten his way, you’d be naked on the table,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.

  “At least then there would be no doubt that she’s ours,” Cunningham growled. He pulled out a chair for Elle. She sat slowly, her knees pressed together—and not simply because of the tight dress. Underneath, she wore only the flimsiest of panties, barely a strip of silky thong between her legs. Her body had responded enthusiastically to the kisses of her lovers, and her panties were soaked.

  Cunningham bent over her, his heat and masculine scent making her tingle. “You look amazing. Maybe I’ll bring that dressmaker on as part of our full-time staff.” He sat on her right. Jonathan sat on her left and pulled her hand into his lap with a squeeze, his expression concerned.