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spirits. And short of pulling out a pair of cuffs on some I-am-woman-hear-me-roar spitfire and risk being labeled a chauvinist pig—or worse, a degenerate—Nick had never risked revealing himself, settling for pre-Mari colorless couplings, instead. Though the physical release of these was pleasing, vanilla sex ultimately left him wanting, his primary needs and thirsts unquenched, his ego and soul invariably hungry for something more.
    Nick had given up any hope of ever satisfying his particular hungers before Slany Breeze had come to DMT , hadn't thought he'd find the perfect partner, one into D/s and whose maternal clock wasn't ticking like a time bomb in the background.
    The idea that she might be open, that she, as Angela had vaguely alluded, wanted to be tamed and would trust him enough to do his bidding and let him fulfill her desires, shot a hot dose of hunger straight to his groin, instantly hardening his dick to painful proportions.
    Nick shifted in his seat as Slany leaned over his shoulder and pointed at an area on his layout about where the body copy would go, her breasts just barely brushing his shoulder.
    This was one of the first ads that would introduce Everwell to the public, if the bank approved their planned mock-ups. Nick, however, couldn't get his mind past the remembered appearance of Slany's nipples through the soft silk of her salmon blouse when she'd first come into his office a couple of hours ago, much less focus on tag lines, pull quotes and callouts.
    He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slany's spicy-sweet woman's musk sent his salivary glands into overdrive, and his cock stood at attention under his desk.

    23
    Gracie C. McKeever
    "Are you listening to me, Nick?"
    "Of course I am."
    "Then what did I just say?"
    "Something about your ad beating the jocks off of mine in the split run."
    "Lucky guess." She smirked.
    Nick chuckled. "If it's any consolation, they're both great copy, each playing on basic semiotics." He waited for her retort, remembered how she'd reacted to his "Everwell…our name says it all," compared to her "Quality and longevity is in our name." They'd argued the merits of each catch phrase through most of that first day working together. Slany thought his slogan oversimplified, that it sacrificed clarity in the name of cleverness. Nick insisted it was clear and clever enough, despite its simplicity. They'd finally settled on a split run, competitive to the bitter end, and may the best director win.
    "It isn't," Slany murmured.
    Nick arched a brow. "Isn't what?"
    "Isn't any consolation."
    "Don't like bones, huh?"
    "Bones are for dogs."
    "Care to make it interesting?"
    She stared at him long and hard, then finally asked, "What do you have in mind?"
    "A little wager. Loser takes the winner out to dinner." He figured even if he lost, he still won. The luxury of Slany's company was enough assuagement for any man's wounded ego. He could see Slany figured the same as he did, that she resented his manipulation.
    She stood up straight, hands on her hips in what was becoming an achingly familiar pose of defiance that made his cock throb in his pants with longing.
    Loose-fit designer chinos had never been as uncomfortable on him.
    He glanced up at her from his seat and goaded, "Don't have any faith in your text?"
    She marched from behind his desk at this and planted herself in front of it, putting a nice slab of hard wood between them as she seethed.
    Smart girl, because he'd been about to do something that probably would have warranted a slap, or arrest for lewd and lascivious behavior by the laws of at least several states.
    Nick was sure there actually were some archaic regulations on the books that outlawed several of his favorite activities to do in bed, two of which he could see doing with Slany in his office this minute if he could get away with it.
    Slany stared at him for a long moment, finally sighed, and dropped her arms to her sides, as if in resignation. "I don't even