The Suit and His Switch Claim Their Sub Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Jenika Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-541-9

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  I want to thank Evernight Publishing for being with me every step of the way through the writing process. I want to give a big thank you to the readers who take a chance on my books each and every time. It means the world to me. I'd like to say thank you to my husband and children for being patient with me as I create these stories. I may not always have a lot of free time, but your support, understanding, and love gives me the inspiration and strength to do it.

  THE SUIT AND HIS SWITCH

  CLAIM THEIR SUB

  The Suits, 1

  Jenika Snow

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  “On your knees, boy.” Dietrich gripped his riding crop tightly in his fist as Stellan sank to his knees. His sub had shed his clothes as soon as he ordered it, and the light and shadows mixed well with the contracting of his muscles. “Who owns you, boy?” He ran the crop up the hard ridges of Stellan’s abdomen and felt his dick twitch when Stellan’s muscles clenched, showcasing a prominent six-pack.

  “You do, Master.”

  Dietrich lifted the boy’s head with the tip of his crop under his chin. His submissive’s light blue eyes locked with his, and his dick hardened further. A glance down showed Stellan’s cock was at full attention.

  “Are you hungry for me, boy?”

  His reply was instant. “Yes, Master.”

  Dietrich grinned and said, “Then take out my shaft and suck the cum from me like a good sub.” Stellan undid the laces of Dietrich’s leathers and pulled out his erection. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to take the head of his cock into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Dietrich let himself get lost in the feel of his sub’s tongue lapping at his slit, drawing his seed from him with so much expertise it rivaled an artist fine-tuning his instrument. “Take it deep, boy. Swallow me whole.”

  Like an obedient sub, Stellan did as he was told. Dietrich ran the crop along his shoulder, down his side, and over the hard, muscular curve of Stellan’s ass. With a flick of his wrist he brought the crop down upon the tanned flesh. He loved how his sub tensed then groaned in his own pleasure. With pain brought pleasure, and Dietrich would bring forth an ocean of both this evening.

  ****

  Blythe Winters adjusted her skirt as the elevator ascended to the twenty-fifth floor of the Cosmopolitan Building. The doors in front of her were a brushed copper color, and her reflection was fairly clear. She had twisted her dark blonde hair in a stylish, yet simple chignon. Taking a step closer to the mirrored panel she ran her finger under her eye to make sure she didn’t have any residual mascara. Blythe hardly wore make-up, and when she did it was only for special occasions. Today was definitely a special occasion. Her light green eyes seemed brighter today, but it was probably from the lack of sleep she had gotten the past week. The rain had caused the air to become damp, which in turn caused her two year old ankle injury to ache something fierce. She bent and absently rubbed it, willing her anger and despair over everything she had lost to become buried deep inside of her. Now was not the time to reflect on what she lost, not when she was about to meet one of the wealthiest men in America.

  Smoothing a hand down her outfit only caused her to feel the bumps and dips of her oversized body. Maybe a size sixteen wasn’t all that bad, but after her accident she had ballooned out. Her once size two frame now seemed like a distant memory. Food had become her friend, her calorie-filling, weight-gaining friend. She couldn’t even stand to look at herself in the mirror, let alone get together with anyone she used to know before the accident.

  Being a temp had its ups and down, this particular job being one of the ups. When she got the call last night about a position that needed to be filled immediately, she had jumped on it. Not only was she going to be working for Dietrich “The Bear” Moore, CEO of Moore Industries, she was also going to spend one month in Europe with him as his PA. The downside to it all was she was working as “The Bear’s” personal assistant. It was no secret that Mr. Moore was a real hard-ass and control freak, but Blythe could overlook all of that because despite this being only a temporary position, it would pay her bills and she’d get a trip out of it.

  The elevator dinged when it reached its destination, and she took a deep breath. She was usually nervous on her first day on the job, as was normal, but today brought on a whole set of new hesitation. The doors opened, and she stepped into the lobby. A sophisticatedly decorated lounge stood in front of her. Dark leather furniture and masculine décor was no doubt professionally placed. A glass and chrome reception desk sat directly in front of the elevator, and Blythe moved toward it. The young man behind the desk spoke rapidly on the phone. He held up one perfectly manicured finger as he finished his conversation. After the phone was set back in the cradle he looked at her expectantly.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m Blythe Winters.” At his blank look she continued. “I’m Mr. Moore’s temporary personal assistant.”

  “Oh, yes.” He grabbed a manila envelope and stood. “This file contains Mr. Moore’s personal and business schedule. You’ll need to have it down pat.” He walked around the desk and handed her the folder. “Laura had a family emergency, so she won’t be here to get you up to date on Mr. Moore’s schedule, so it’s of the utmost importance that you know this file from front to back.” He made his way down a long hallway, and Blythe had no other option but to follow. She was struck by the blatant sway of his hips, the tightness of his black slacks, and the flailing of his arms as he rattled off the different departments within Moore Industries.

  Several doors lined either side of her, and Blythe snuck a peek inside the ones that were open. A copy room, lounge, and conference room were just few she had been able to make out as the flamboyant receptionist took her farther down the long, never-ending hallway.

  “Mr. Moore is in a meeting right now but will be finished shortly. He’s instructed me to have you wait in his office.” He pushed open the double doors that were located at the end of the hall.

  “Okay, thank you. I didn’t catch your name.” Blythe turned around, but the receptionist was shutting the door. Alrighty then. The office was massive, probably the size of half the floor. One whole wall was made up of glass that gave an outstanding view of the city. Skyscrapers could be seen from as far as the eye could see, their mirrored, iridescent windows casting rainbows across the glass. The rest of the office was just as expensive and immaculate as the rest of the place, but she didn’t expect any less, especially when stepping into the office of Dietrich Moore. His desk was to her right, but “desk” didn’t quite describe the mammoth piece of glass and chrome that had to be over seven feet in length. She let her gaze travel the rest of the room. Black and white abstract paintings lined the walls, but the one above his desk was huge and painted an angry red. Swirls and splashes on the canvas reminded her of blood being sprayed. She brought her cardigan more tightly around her chest. The rumors she had heard about “The Bear” were
enough to give any one nightmares, and now she had agreed to work directly for him.

  Blythe went over and sat in one of the two black leather couches several feet across from the desk. A bar fully stocked with liquor was to her left, and the idea of taking a few shots to help ease her nerves sounded glorious at the moment. Shifting on the leather she felt heat spread through her. At twenty-three she shouldn’t be getting hot flashes, but the prospect of whom she was about to meet scared the shit out of her. She swept her gaze back to his desk. The standard equipment lined the glass: top-of-the-line computer, a few stacks of files, and a phone. It was bare for all intents and purposes, given the fact this was the CEO of one of the country’s most affluent corporations.

  A Newton’s Cradle caught her eyes, and she stood. When she was in front of his desk she reached forward and grabbed the small metallic ball at one end. It was cool and heavy between her fingers, and when she let it go and watched the hypnotic momentum of the two end balls swinging in tandem, she became lost in thought. Intense heat seeped into her back, and the sense of being no longer alone invaded her. Blythe spun around and came face-to-face with a very wide suit-covered chest. She gripped the edge of the desk behind her and craned her neck back. She had seen plenty of pictures in the tabloids of Dietrich Moore, but standing right in front of him did not do him justice. The click, click, click of the cradle filled the room. He leaned forward, and his scent invaded her nostrils. His cologne was subtle yet powerful, and when he was so close that the tanned flesh of his neck was inches from her mouth, she had to hold her breath or make a very embarrassing moan. The mesmerizing noise stilled seconds later, and he pulled away. His dark blue eyes regarded her silently. In person he was even more gorgeous. Dark hair cut short, yet long enough to sweep over his forehead, had her fingers itching to brush the strands away.

  “Do you know what Newton’s Cradle demonstrates?” His voice was deep and sexy, and she could imagine he sounded like that in the bedroom. Blythe found herself shaking her head in response. “It demonstrates conservation or momentum and energy by the series of swinging spheres.” Blythe didn’t respond because honestly she didn’t know how to. He took several steps back, and she finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath that whole time.

  For several long moments he watched her, and Blythe felt like an insect under a microscope. The awkwardness grew inside of her until she started to shift on her feet.

  “Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that you shouldn’t touch others’ belongings, especially if they are your boss’s possessions?”

  If Blythe hadn’t been speechless before, his words would have shut her the hell up right then.

  She knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to accept this job, but damn if he didn’t bring a whole new level to the word asshole. She dropped her head and clasped her hands behind her back. “I apologize, Sir.” For several long seconds he didn’t respond, and Blythe was struck with his commanding aura. He didn’t even have to say anything for his presence to make an impact.

  His long, slow exhale had her lifting her eyes to him. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but there was a strange expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read. “So you’re my temporary PA?” His voice was curt and to the point, and she straightened her shoulders.

  “Yes, Sir.” He stopped and looked at her once again. A slight frown marred the space between his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had made an appearance. He took a seat behind his desk and rested his forearms on the table.

  “Take a seat, Miss…”

  “Winters. Blythe Winters, Sir.” She stuck her hand out and immediately regretted it when he looked at it strangely. She went to pull it away, but his bigger hand encased hers. His flesh was warm and smooth, and she felt her face heat with some uncomfortable feeling. This man would be her boss for the next four weeks, and here she was acting like some kind of hormonal teenager. It was just a handshake for God’s sake. He held her hand a few seconds longer than what she always considered socially acceptable, and Blythe felt her cheeks heat even more. When he did release his hold on her she quickly clasped her hands together and placed them on her lap. He leaned back in his chair and continued to stare at her. She was starting to think she had something on her face by the amount of attention he gave her.

  “Have you been briefed on your duties?”

  She had left her purse and the envelope the flamboyant receptionist had given her on the couch, but she didn’t go to get it. Of course it wasn’t her fault that there was no time for someone to give her the details on what she was supposed to do, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him. Besides, she had a feeling he would care about any excuse she gave him. Before she could answer he continued talking.

  “My private jet leaves for Portugal tomorrow afternoon. A car will pick you up at four p.m. sharp. You’ll need to pack for the entire month because I am not sure how long my presence is needed in Lisbon.” His desk phone rang, and he picked it up and barked out, “Yeah?” His deep blue eyes held hers as he listened to whoever it was on the other line, but then he broke the eye contact and turned his chair so the back faced her. Apparently she had been dismissed.

  Blythe stood and grabbed her purse and the envelope off the couch and headed toward the front doors. Just as her hand curled around the brass his deep voice stopped her.

  “I expect you to be ready to leave when I send the driver tomorrow, Miss Winters. I also expect you to know my schedule inside and out. I don’t have time to explain the details of my every move. If you feel you can’t keep up you need to tell me now. Do you understand?” Her heart started to thunder behind her ribs, and she felt ridiculous. If this was her reaction to him after only being in his presence for ten minutes, how in the hell was she going to survive four weeks with the man? He was a total control freak and major dick, but she reminded herself she desperately needed this job. Maybe she should just back out while she still had her sanity? He was already so demanding, and they had just met. Blythe had a sick feeling he would only get worse the longer she stayed in her presence. Facing him once more, she opened her mouth, but to say what she had no clue. One of his dark brows cocked in question, and she wondered how many people told him no. Probably not very many.

  “Miss Winters, if you’re having any doubts now is the time to speak up. I don’t have time for games, especially from an employee who is going to be working so closely with me.”

  She snapped her mouth closed again because the reality was she needed this job and the pay she would receive. For only four weeks in his presence the sum was substantial. Only a fool would turn it down, and she had been called many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. “I understand, Sir. I’ll be ready and waiting for your car tomorrow at four.” She offered him a smile, but only a second later even that faltered. Did Dietrich more always have a perpetual frown on his face, or was it just she who placed it on there?

  “Good. I have several meetings today and don’t have the time or energy to explain the details to you, so you can have the rest of the day off. No worries on your pay, though. You’ll get the contracted amount no matter the hours you work.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” His nostrils flared slightly, and the room suddenly became warmer. Before she could say anything else or get yelled at again she darted out of his office and hauled ass back to her car. Once in the garage the sound of her heels clicking on the cement echoed around her. Her little Honda sat by itself between two pillars. She threw the door open and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. The silence descended around her, and she exhaled. Maybe she should have turned this job down. It certainly would have been good for her sanity, but she knew men like Dietrich Moore. They were dominating, controlling, and were never denied when it concerned something they wanted. Her ex had been like that, and after finally waking up and realizing she was no man’s doormat, she finally left his ass. That had been a year ago, and she was still trying to push Lance out of her head. Sh
e wasn’t normal, she knew that, but the relationship she had had with Lance was depraved.

  No, not today, not ever. No way was she going to let that prick invade any part of her life again. Pushing him from her thoughts she cranked the engine and headed home. She still had to pack and memorize Mr. Moore’s itinerary, not to mention let her mother know she wasn’t going to be around for a month. That conversation should be pleasant.

  Chapter Two

  Dietrich stared at his office doors as they closed behind Miss Winters. He adjusted himself and the sudden tightness behind the fly of his slacks. He pulled his cell out of his suit jacket and dialed Stellan’s number. His once business partner answered on the first ring.

  “I didn’t think I’d hear from you since you’ll be here in a few days, Sir.” Stellan’s deep voice always gave Dietrich a hard-on, but he was already sporting one thanks to Miss Winters.

  “Well, I wanted to let you know I think I’ve found someone who fits our requirements perfectly.” He noticed the change in Stellan’s breathing and knew his sub was aroused just from hearing that little piece of information. “She’s my temp PA for the next four weeks because Laura had a family emergency and won’t be back until then.”

  “So you really think she’s ‘The One’?” The excitement and anticipation in Stellan’s voice was thick.

  “Yeah, I do, and I know you’ll think so, too, when we arrive.” He spoke with Stellan for a few more minutes then hung up. Blythe Winters screamed submission, even if she wasn’t purposefully doing it, and because of that he wanted her more. Her constant use of the term “Sir” might have been polite in context, but as a Dom he wanted nothing more than to see her on her knees, and his collar and leash around that slender throat of hers, while Stellan fucked her from behind. Stellan may have been Dietrich’s sub, but the six foot three former quarterback was also a switch, and dammit if Dietrich wouldn’t enjoy watching Stellan’s big cock fucking their soon-to-be submissive. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be, too. He had seen the way she looked at him, had practically smelled the sweet juice that spilled from her pussy. Dietrich didn’t mix business with pleasure, but four weeks wasn’t that long to wine and dine her and convince the pretty little Blythe that what they could offer couldn’t be refused.