Sable gazed around the room, absorbing the men and women in elegant evening clothes. Self-consciously she smoothed her hand against the fabric of her silk sapphire sheath and tucked a stray auburn curl behind one ear. She'd pulled every string she could to wrangle an invitation to this fundraiser for the top socially elite, with one objective in mind. And there he was. Alex Courtland, billionaire owner of the Auto-Tech software company.
Writing a series for Erotic Fantasy Magazine called "Every Man's Fantasy" she'd interviewed the sexiest men in the country. The articles were a raging success because for a change, they were told from the man's point of view.
From the moment she'd first met him at a media function, Sable wanted not only the interview but the man. Tall and lean, he carried an aura of power with him that was almost visible. Thick midnight black hair was worn long and tied back at the nape of his neck. Eyes like hot coals stared out from under lashes so thick most women would kill for them. His finely chiselled features could have been created by a sculptor.
She'd come here tonight determined to get what would be her final--and most exciting interview. She'd heard all the whispers about him, how he was into bondage and S & M, how he worked to break the spirit of the women he took to his isolated Maine retreat, and how he never saw them again after that. Two words were used to describe him in the boardroom and the bedroom--ruthless and cold.
Alex Courtland was all about control, and Sable knew about that. Control was how she'd turned lumpy, dumpy Sally Morgan into the mysterious Sable M, and how she maintained that image.
Just looking at him made her nipples harden and liquid soak her crotch. For months now, he'd played a starring role in her darkest fantasies, and she could almost come just being near him. How could one person have such an effect on her?
As she watched him he turned, and his eyes locked onto hers. If she'd been aroused before, it was nothing to what she felt now. She wasn't sure she could walk without her own liquid seeping down her legs.
Apparently she wasn't going to have to, because here he came, crossing the room with big, powerful strides, his eyes like lasers burning holes into her.
"Ah, the persistent Sable." He plucked a champagne flute from a passing waiter, then let his eyes take a lazy trip over every inch of her body, all five feet of it. "Are you here tonight to stalk me?"
She took a sip of her own champagne to calm her chattering nerves. "If you'd take my calls, I wouldn't have to follow you around."
"You must have worked a great deal of magic to come here tonight."
"I have ... connections."
"I'll bet you do."
A quartet in the corner began to play a soft ballad, and a few couples moved onto the miniscule dance floor. Alex took both glasses and placed them on a nearby table then took her hand and tugged her towards the floor.
"Dance with me. We can discuss your ... proposition."
She let him pull her onto the floor and into his embrace. The spicy scent of his cologne teased at her nostrils, and the heat of his body flowed into hers. They were touching from shoulder to knee, her breasts pressed into his hard-muscled chest, his hard cock pressing into the softness of her belly.