The Satin Sash Read Online Free PDF Page A

importance of appearances. Bank loan agents, investors—they could all be swayed with an intimidating glare, a powerful stance, most of all a sharp tie. And apparently Grey could be swayed by a petite bit of a woman, strolling the next day into his office with a portfolio of her work.
    Antonia Kearny.
    His first impression, aside from a youth she couldn’t manage to conceal in the rather insipid business suit she wore, was that she was little more than average, her hair tied into some sort of twist behind a pale oval face, a few coppery tendrils framing a high, smooth forehead.
    She had a small, rounded nose and small, plump lips painted the color of raspberries. She was nothing extraordinary—certainly nothing to turn heads—but when she began talking, showing him her work with that lively glint in her eye and a quiver of excitement in her voice, Grey had been charmed. Totally enchanted by her.
    He’d wanted to slip his hands under her skirt, spread her legs open, and see if the lips of her pussy glistened like her shimmering pink mouth.
    Instead he’d glanced at his watch, unsatisfied by the thought of a quick romp atop his office desk. “I’m afraid I’m running out of time, but I’d appreciate it if we discussed this over dinner.”
    Time seemed to still as she looked up. “Dinner?”
    He noticed his tongue would fit perfectly through the opening in her mouth. Just a little wider, and he could push his cock inside, see it rimmed by the pink of her lips. Stirred by the visual, he bowed his head. Yes, love, dinner. I’ll be having you.
    “Name the place, Ms. Kearny.”
    Although alarm skittered across her every feature, he sensed her determination in making the sale. She tucked her catalogues back into her briefcase, tentatively suggesting, “The Chop House?”
    “Excellent. And your address?” He leaned forward in his swivel chair. “To pick you up?”
    She hesitated, then rummaged through her things and scribbled down her address on a tiny yellow slip.
    Hours later, tucking the note back into his breast pocket, Grey knocked on her door. His heartbeat had increased en route to her home; it pounded severely when he arrived.A lion’s roar in his ears.
    She opened with an exerted little gasp, wearing a navy blue dress that, although loose from her waist to her knees, exposed a delectable amount of cleavage and amply showcased two very pert breasts.
    Flushing under his slow but discreet inspection, she quickly went back inside to retrieve the portfolio she was forgetting.
    An invitation, if Grey ever saw one.
    He followed her down a narrow hall, making no attempt to evaluate the simplicity of her home, intent on one thing only. Mine. Mine. Mine. He caught up with her in the bedroom as she bent to lift the briefcase. “Mr. Richards, do you want me to bring the—”
    He wrapped her in his arms, roughly drawing her against him. “What I want is right here.”
    His glaring hard-on was cushioned in the cleft between her buttocks. She stood utterly still. Smelling divine, feeling divine. Her suppleness amazed him. Her shampoo drifted up to his nostrils, the scent as tantalizing as spring.
    “I . . . don’t sleep with my clients, Mr. Richards.”
    He eased her gently around and flashed her a wolfish smile.“All right. I won’t buy.”
    The breath shuddered out of her lips, and for the first time in his life, Grey wanted lipstick smeared all over his mouth. Her eyes were bright with sexual energy and wide with innocence.
    He found the combination irresistible.
    Their kiss had been sex in itself. A mating of tongues, a fusion of mouths, souls. Cultivated and controlled as he was, he’d barely been able to rein himself in. Pins flew from her hair; his pants were at his ankles; her panties shredded across the floor. She was on the window seat, one breast poking out at an awkward angle from her dress, her pussy exposed to him like an open flower—and only then did Grey pause for a breath, for a condom, for a