Nicknamed the Ice Bitch, corporate exec Lana Holt is a notorious ball buster known for getting the job done and getting it done right. With her reputation and track record, she is perfectly positioned to become the next CEO of Renault Corporation, until the grandson of the owner, Harvard grad, boy genius, Matthew Renault snatches it right out from under her. The Reunion tells the story of Natalia Cruz, a talented opera singer who returns to her fifteen year high school reunion to face her past, her tarnished reputation and the man she left behind, Brad Wellington. The Creative Director of a high end she is less than thrilled. and more stories...
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Senior Vice President, Lana Holt stomped angrily past the cubicles of her nosy employees, ignoring their probing stares and low snickers. They could barely contain their joy. The Ice Bitch was finally gone. Theythought she didn’t know what they whispered behind her back, but shedid. She knew everything the close to one hundred employees she supervised said about her. They thought she was a sad, lonely, pathetic frigid bitch. And maybe they were right.She’d worked for the Renault International Hotel Corporation ever since she’d graduated from college. And over the past twenty years, she’d steadily climbed the corporate ladder, sacrificing everything toachieve one goal—to become CEO of the largest hotel chain in the world.She had always remained professional and distant from her employees, running her division with cool efficiency and precision. The marketing division was undoubtedly the most productive arm of the company. Sowhen Tom Salkind retired earlier that year as CEO, she’d been sure the job was hers.She wrenched open the door to her corner office with the amazing view of downtown Atlanta, stepped inside and slammed it behind her. She wasted no time in grabbing a Xerox box full of new stacks of paper. Dumping the unopened packets to the floor, she began to clean out her desk.As she haphazardly stuffed her most personal belongings into the box, she replayed the words that had changed her life forever.“…So, it is with great pride and enthusiasm that I introduce to you Renault’s newest CEO, my grandson, Matthew Renault.” She had sat there stunned when the owner, Gerard Renault, had delivered the news to the twelve member Board of Directors, the new CEO, Matthew Renault,and to her.She gritted her teeth at the thought of him. She was being usurped by a twenty-nine year old Harvard Business graduate who’d only beenwith the company for two years. He was barely out of grad school and now he was the CEO of a Fortune 500 Company.The sound of her office door closing caught her attention and she whirled around to face the last person she wanted to see.“Lana, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”She held up her hand to halt his next words. “It’s fine Matthew. I could tell from your shocked expression that it was news to you too. Still, congratulations,” she said stiffly, before twisting back around to finish packing.“I couldn’t believe you stormed out of there—hey, what are you doing?”“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped as she continued to dump her things into the box.She froze at the touch of his hand against her arm. Blowing out a long, jagged breath she turned around to face him. And as soon as she met his gaze, and glimpsed the hurt look on his handsome face, sheinstantly regretted her terse words. It wasn’t his fault. Actually Matthew didn’t deserve any of her anger. Ever since he’d joined the company two years ago as the CFO, he’d been nothing but kind toward her, eventhough she’d always kept him at arm’s length. “Don’t quit,” he said softly.She shrugged his hand from her arm, flashing him a weak smile. “I have to.”“But, I need you—,” he said, and she almost swore she sawsomething flash in his eyes that hinted at a more intimate need, but then it disappeared and she figured it had just been her imagination. He cleared his throat. “—to advise me. You have the most experience of any of the senior staff and I need your expertise.”“I’m sorry, Matthew, but you know I can’t stay,” she said quietly, holding his penetrating blue gaze.“What will you do?”She shrugged as a she curled her lips into a wry smile. “I don’t know and for the first time in my life, I don’t care.” It was true. She had lived her life for so long always striving to accomplish her next goal.Well, for the first time ever she had no goal and it felt good.The disappointment on his face tugged at her, and for just a moment she experienced a pang of guilt. Feeling compelled to do something she was sure she would later regret, she grabbed one of her business cards and scribbled on the back. “Here is my home number. If you find you have a question just call me.” She shoved her card into his hand and whirled back around to finish with her task.She heard him mumble “thanks” followed by the soft click of the door closing shut. Contrary to what her employees thought, she did have feelings and she felt bad for dumping her anger on Matthew when he’dhad nothing to do with the events that had transpired earlier. But she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of resentment. He now held the position that she’d coveted for the last five years. Still, that had been no excuse for her abrupt dismissal and downright rude behavior. She toyed with thethought of going after him to apologize, but quickly abandoned the idea. He’d be fine. She on the other hand wouldn’t.The knowledge that she’d given up so much for a dream that had been snatched so cruelly from her was enough to send her spiraling head first to depression. Painful memories from the past twenty years of all the sacrifices she’d made replayed themselves in her head. The main one being from three years ago when her ex-fiancé walked out on her shortly after she’d miscarried their baby, all the while hurling accusations at her that her workaholic schedule had been the cause. She knew now that Toby was nothing but an asshole and a jerk, but at the time the pain and guilt had only driven her to work harder, making her even more determined to achieve the goal that had cost her the family she’d always wanted.Tears burned the backs of her eyes and she drew in a deep breath, as she forced them not to fall. She needed to hurry up and finish packing so that she could get out of there before she did what she so desperately longed to do—slump to the floor and indulge in a good cry. But her pridewould not allow her to give into the impulse. The Ice Bitch did not crack, and she certainly didn’t melt.I have about an hour to kill before I can go back to Eva. Walking this town from end to end would take all of ten minutes. I pause at the wine-tasting room, but there are too many tourists inside. Besides I’ll have to make the usual inane chitchat with one of the hospi- tality staff. “Is this your first visit to the Wine Country?” she’ll say, chipper as a Girl Scout. “Actually, my wife and I come up from San Francisco a few times a year, but not for the wine. We like to play our kinky Dom-sub sex game in your local country inn. Would you care to join us tonight?” I smile as I continue on down the street. If only it were that easy. Of course, bringing back another woman might be pushing Eva a little too far. This time. I pass a quaint tavern—everything is quaint here— and peek inside. Dim lighting, a few customers perched at the bar. Perfect. I take a table in a shadowy corner and order a glass of Frank Family Cabernet. You can’t get that by the glass in the city. The wine is deli
There’s an indeterminate span of time between asleep and awake. Those bleary moments, waves of thought washing over us as we struggle to gain or lose conscious- ness. Where dreams blur with reality, taking on aspectsand influence from each other.The shriek of an alarm clock is translated into the cries of some prehistoric flying creature chasing us through Elysian Fields. The scent of bacon spurs a vivid scenario of gorging ourselves on anything and every- thing within sight.The slow, rhythmic thrusts of a cock between swollen labia elicits dreams of multiple members in multiple orifices.This is how I awaken; gradually, with the dawning realization that at least one turgid member from myreveries is truly flesh and blood. Sliding between my thighs from behind as I lie on my side, body curled into the blankets surrounding me. A hand, presumably accompanying the penis in its adventures, is trailing feather soft over the curve of my breasts, fingers occa- sionally tweaking my nip
Let me tie you up?” he asked me, holding up the ropes so I could see them. At first I couldn’t take my eyes off them; they were slim and white and gorgeous. They were looped over one another and tied off beautifully in lengths with colored ends, so he could keep the lengths separate. I must have stared at those ropes in his hand for half a minute before I brought my eyes back to his and saw the wicked joy in them. Peter’s smile broadened to a grin. His blue eyes brightened. He knew he had me. He was fully dressed, and I was naked—very, very naked. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and I’d been thinking about him in there—thinking about what we might do when I got out of the shower and Peter took me to bed. I was already very turned on. He could see everything he wanted to see, I real- ized—in exquisite detail never before revealed. I’d just shaved, so he could see my sex. He could see the hot flush of arousal through my breasts and my face, see the stiffening of my nipples that
Ten more minutes, I thought, glancing around the carnival. Ten minutes and then I can get out of this nightmare and go for a drink. I hauled one of the milk cartons up in front of me, and began stacking the plastic rings from the Ring Toss. This was the last year I’d volunteered for the games. Next year, I’ll sell tickets or something that doesn’t involve snotty kids screaming because they didn’t win a plastic frog. The sky was several shades of amber in the wake of the setting sun. I loved summer. And despite the disaster of this year’s Ring Toss, I always looked forward to the annual Shriners Carnival. I always volunteered. The money went toward revitalizing the parks and play- grounds in the area, places I used to go to when I was a child. Every year held surprises, from the old friends who came back for the night, to the local celebrities who turned up in support. Last year, we had an Emmy Award winner perform an impromptu concert. This year, my surprise was the very reason I ne
It’s not much fun giving a blow job,” Taryn remarks over the noisy gush of heat hitting my hair. “AlthoughI think every lesbian feels that way, don’t you?”“Only if they can speak from experience,” I reply, wincing as Taryn continues to torture my tresses. Taryn winces, too—for an entirely different reason. “And I seri- ously doubt that the judges are going to inquire about my sex life, oral or otherwise, during the interview.”“Agreed.” She puts down the blow-dryer and picks up a hairbrush. “A better question would be: why did you get involved in beauty pageants?”I smirk. The answer is out of the question. I got involved in beauty pageants because I wanted to meet girls. I could care less about the sash or the cash or the crown that glitters like a dinner plate in an advertisementfor dishwashing soap. That doesn’t mean I don’t take pageantry seriously. It just means that I’m not in it to win it.I used to think pageants were sideshows, populated with aspiring anchorwomen who
Ihate being here.I hate sleeping in this bed, Clark’s marriage bed,sleeping on his wife’s side while she’s away on business and waking up face-to-face with the knickknacks and nail polish on her bedside table.And the baby oil! Why wouldn’t Clark have put that away before I came? Why the hell would I want to be reminded that he has sex with her too? More puzzlingly, why do I jump at every opportunity to stay the night?Well, that question has an easy answer: it’s the wake- up call that keeps me coming back. It’s his arms circling my body before the sun comes up, when I’m still warm with sleep. He kisses my shoulder, walks his fingers down my belly, and I’m sold. I’ll put up with any amount of heartache if it means getting fucked first thing in themorning.My pussy’s never wet when he finds it, so Clark burrows under the covers to turn me on in the most effi- cient way possible. Spreading my legs, he situates himself between them and dives at the apex of my thighs. I don’t know
Jason left for work the same way he always did, but instead of following his normal routine he came home two hours later and slipped back into the house.Sneaking through his own house like a criminal felt absurd, but he did it anyway.When his best friend told him he thought their wives were more than just friends Jason hadn’t believed it. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. So when Rose told him that Miranda was coming over that day to help her in the garden he knew what he had to do.As he creeps upstairs, he hears soft voices and sees that the bedroom door has been left ajar. He leans forward until he can see into the room. And there they are, Rose and Miranda together in bed.Jason watches them. He can’t help but appreciate how beautiful Rose is like this, her head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open. Sure, he’s seen her like this before, but it’s not the same when he’s the one moving above her, when he’s focused on what he’s doing, what he’s feeling.Now he can j
Renata climbs the stairs from the dungeon, brushes aside the leather curtain, and looks around. Tonight she doesn’t need a fancy station. She only needs a quietcorner and a chair. This room will do nicely.She takes a seat against the wall. Like a lioness crouched by a watering hole, she watches the snack table across the room. People come, people go. Then her patience pays off. Vicki’s red latex minidress and stiletto ankle boots identify her. She’s trying to drink a Coke with one hand while holding a chocolate-chip cookie with the other. It’s awkward with the cuffs. Renata strides over and presses herself against Vicki’s back.“When’s your break over?” “Now.” Vicki lowers her snack. “Good. Keep the cookie.”A hand on Vicki’s biceps, Renata propels her across the room. Vicki’s ass and boobs jiggle under the low-cut latex. The ankle cuffs mean she has to shuffle quickly to keep up. By the time they get to Renata’s chair, Vicki’s breathing hard.Renata drops Vicki’s arm and sits,
He was young and his cock was as hard as a steel rod. No foreplay was necessary. He took off his clothes and, bang: hard and ready. Not like your sad, little caged protuberance. I can’t imagine you were ever like that, were you?” She shook her head in mock sadness as she gazed at Bob. He knelt, naked, with the exception of the chastity device affixed to his cock andballs. He yawned, silently. “Does this bore you?”“Sorry, Ma’am.” It wasn’t so much that it was boring, it was that it was just stories. He needed more.“And then today, at lunch, I seduced a UPS guy. All tan and muscles, he looked great in his uniform shorts but he looked even better out of them. Nine-inch cock, at a minimum. Straight and thick. And boy could he eat.Someone had trained that boy well. I had three orgasms before we even got to the actual fucking. I thought about you—stuck here, cleaning the bathroom or the kitchen or whatever it was you were doing.”“Look, Barbara,” Bob stood up. “I just don’t think th
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