Hooked (Decadence Nights Book 1) Read online

  Hooked

  Decadence Nights, Book One

  By

  Maddie Taylor

  ©2015 by Blushing Books® and Maddie Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

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  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Taylor, Maddie

  Hooked

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-981-7

  Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About Maddie Taylor

  Ebook Offer

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  About Blushing Books

  Chapter One

  Tapping her nails on her well-ordered and meticulously tidy desktop, Olivia Wright waited impatiently for the printer to finish the final sheet of address labels. As it often did, her mind wandered to the man behind the closed door no more than thirty feet away. Unbelievably tall, subtly sexy and undeniable powerful, Joseph Hooks filled her fantasies.

  “Ms. Wright.” His unusually stern voice pierced the silence of her office.

  She twisted around to find him in front of her desk frowning down at her.

  “Is something wrong, sir?”

  “Most assuredly. Stand up, please.”

  Livvy slowly came to her feet. Even in four-inch heels, he towered over her, the disparity in their size, making her feel small and feminine. That fact alone stirred a primal desire within her to yield to his authority.

  “Hands on your desk and assume the position.”

  The order and his expectations were clear. She gasped in alarm. “Sir! What did I do?”

  “I believe, if you give it due consideration, it will come to you.” Calm, cool and collected, her employer rarely got riled, but when he felt her performance was subpar, he didn’t hesitate to take immediate and decisive action. “This is the third such infraction this week.”

  He crossed his arms and gazed down at her soberly from his lofty height, a glint of something she couldn’t quite name—maybe eagerness, or arousal, please, let it be arousal—gleamed in his beautiful eyes.

  “Bend over your desk, now, Olivia. Procrastination will only earn you more.”

  Warmth and wetness flooded between her thighs, dampening her panties. Punishment at Joseph’s hand was the best fringe benefit of her job. She’d eagerly give them all up: vacation time, her expense account, health, vision and dental, for this perk alone. As a submissive, she craved his dominance above all and yearned to be under his control. She also wanted to please him and readily accepted the consequences when she did not.

  Rolling her chair out of the way, Livvy bent over her desktop, pressing her upper body from belly to cheek against the flat surface.

  “Skirt up, panties down, little one. You’ve worked for me long enough to know my requirements.”

  “Yes, sir.” Reaching back with both hands, she tugged her skirt up her thighs, the snugness increasing as she gathered the material with trembling hands. The path became more difficult as it traversed her curves and began to bunch up over her rounded behind. Once she had it high around her waist, she paused. She’d worn stockings and a garter belt. Did he want those down too?

  She opened her mouth to ask when he beat her to the punch.

  “Stockings and garters stay, they look lovely against your creamy skin, but the panties must go. Pull them down to mid-thigh and keep them there.”

  As she tugged down her French cut lace panties, the gusset got caught between her thighs. She had to wiggle, parting her legs a bit more to release them. As she shifted, she could feel the cool air brush against her wet pussy lips and wondered if he noticed how aroused she was. Could he see the evidence of her desire on the soaked crotch or smell her lustful scent?

  “Good girl,” he murmured, stepping closer. She suppressed a groan at his praise, her control tested again when his warm hand ran over her bottom cheeks. Successful in one endeavor, she failed at the other as a shudder swept through her needy body.

  Softly, he continued his instructions. “You will also be a good girl while you take your punishment, Olivia. No blocking or squirming. No name calling or insulting me out of hand, or any of my ancestors. You will hold your position for the count of one hundred.”

  “One hundred!” she cried in dismay.

  “I pay you well for precision and won’t tolerate sloppiness or mistakes.” His large hand stroked her trembling skin, gliding over her taut globes and down to her thighs, his fingertips wandering dangerously close to her cleft and the seam of her pussy lips. “We’ll begin with a hand spanking.”

  The word "begin" made her quake with trepidation as she imagined what else he had planned. A paddle? His belt? Or, one of the rattan canes he kept in an umbrella stand in the corner of his office.

  As she pondered the course of her punishment, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him draw back his broad hand to shoulder height and sucked in a breath in anticipation of the first solid spank. A thrill of excitement rushed through her, channeling more liquid heat to her pussy. She wiggled as his hand came crashing down…

  Scrack! Clack, clack… Crunch!

  The harsh, grating noise jarred her out of her daydream and made her jump. So lost in her erotic fantasy, the sudden movement sent Livvy off balance and she almost fell out of her chair. Eyes flying open, she looked around for the culprit. Unsurprisingly, it was her printer and another damn paper jam.

  “Just when I was getting to the best part,” Livvy grumbled.

  A recurring fantasy, she’d given up on it becoming a reality some time ago for many reasons. Joseph was never what she would call stern with her, nor did he ever have an opportunity to find fault in her work, which like her desk and attire, were meticulously tidy and precise. And heaven knows, he didn’t have a stand of disciplinary canes in his office.

  She blew out a heavy sigh of frustration while surreptitiously rubbing her forearms against her rock hard nipples that were now clearly visible through her silk blouse. As she tried to reorder her thoughts to more professional topics, she turned to battle her nemesis, the hated all-in-one printer.

  After ten minutes of resetting the infernal machine and cursing it under her breath, the page shot out into the tray. She speedily snatched up the freshly printed labels and quickly affixed the stickers to the remaining legal-size envelopes. Her last task for the day completed, Livvy glanced at the wall clock and did some quick calculations. Home in twenty minutes, an hour to shower and do her hair and makeup, another two for the drive from Austin would put her at the club by eight-thirty.

  “Plenty of time,” she murmured
to herself.

  Sliding the weighed and stamped envelopes into the outgoing mail tray, she put away the extra labels and logged off her computer.

  “Only one more thing to do, and I’m out of here.”

  With her fingers outstretched, she depressed the intercom on her desk phone, frowning at the chip in her newly polished nail. Faintly, she heard the buzz in the next office.

  “Yes, Olivia?”

  “I’m leaving for the day, sir.”

  There was a pause. “It’s not quite 4:30.”

  A brilliant trial attorney, Joseph R. Hooks III was not your stereotypical pompous air bag, but he was an enigma. Deceptively handsome, at first glance, his close cropped hair, wire rimmed glasses and conservative suits—the staple being tweed with an occasional bow tie thrown in the mix—gave the impression of a staid, lackluster tax attorney. One only had to be in his presence for a few minutes to learn how wrong first impressions could be, especially in court.

  Despite his rather natty appearance—no, stuffy… okay, fine, it was downright nerdy at times—he was known as a tough as nails, take no crap, as bad ass as they come trial attorney. Although, in order to truly appreciate how he’d earned that reputation you had to see him in action. Like an actor in a TV court drama—which Livvy watched voraciously—Joseph seemed to embody the best traits of her favorite characters all rolled into one. He possessed the charisma of L.A. Law’s, Arnie Becker, was a master tactician like Law and Order’s, Jack McCoy, displayed the brilliance of mind of a Perry Mason, but could also react on the fly if the need arose like Boston Legal’s, Alan Shore, and was willing to take the same risks.

  She imagined some of his success was related to the confidence he exuded naturally without coming off like an obnoxious, arrogant jerk. Or, it could be from his impressive six foot seven inch frame that instantly grabbed the attention of everyone when he stood. Maybe it was the sparkle of excitement behind the lenses of his round wire-framed glasses that told of his eagerness to right a wrong and seek justice. Still, some would attribute it to his voice, not the booming bass that one would expect from a man his size, but a smooth, hypnotic tenor which captivated from the first word to the last compelling inflection. Although he could quote case law, chapter and verse, that skill took a back seat to the charm he employed to mesmerize his audience. A superior strategist, he also had the uncanny knack for getting inside the opposing counselor’s head, as well as under their skin. Time and again, the prosecution played into his hand, or he compelled witnesses to tell him exactly what he wanted to know, and then moved to convince the jurors to see things precisely his way.

  Joseph Hooks was without a doubt one of the great legal minds of his day, but he was definitely an imperfect paradox. From her seat, just a few feet outside his office door, she knew first hand he was not without flaws. And thank goodness for that because for Livvy, his imperfections were the only thing that kept her from prostrating herself before all his gorgeousness and begging him to make her his.

  “You have plans.”

  Startled at his voice coming from the doorway behind her instead of through the speaker, she spun in her chair. Having discarded his jacket, he stood in shirtsleeves, his tie still knotted impeccably at his collar. Her eyes drifted upward beyond the dotted navy blue silk to his darkened jaw which bore a healthy scruff of five o’clock shadow, okay, it was a half past four o’clock shadow, whichever, on him it was extremely sexy.

  “Olivia?”

  Realizing he expected a response, she blinked.

  “Uh… yes,” she replied haltingly as her racing heart fluttered in her chest, a common response to his presence. “I have an engagement this evening.”

  “An engagement,” he repeated as his brows drew together, forming three small vertical lines between them, something she also found very attractive.

  “Yes, sir. I took an abbreviated lunch so I could leave early today.” Despite her lustful thoughts about the man standing tall and delicious not three feet away, her tone remained even, which was the hallmark of her imperturbable professionalism, her patience being legendary among the legal secretaries in the six partner group. After ten years with the firm, the last three working for Joseph, reputed to be the hardest taskmaster of the bunch, she was used to his penchant for timeliness. “I mentioned this to you on Monday, remember?”

  After another short pause, where he considered her closely, he nodded. “It slipped my mind momentarily, but I recall now. Are you traveling?” He glanced at the window. “The forecast is for severe storms and heavy rain this evening.”

  Turning, she followed his gaze to her window, seeing nothing but sunshine beaming in. “I do have a ways to go.”

  “Unless it is urgent, the weather service is advising staying close to home tonight. Besides, I worry about you in that car—”

  “I just had it in the shop for a tune up, sir. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  The frown lines deepened, his lips parting on a breath making Livvy believe he was going to object further. Instead, he suddenly let it go, whatever it was.

  “Run along then, Olivia, but use extreme caution on the roads tonight. I’d like to have you here in one piece tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be very careful, sir. Thank you.”

  Thinking she had been dismissed, she moved to the credenza against the far wall and bent to retrieve her purse from the bottom drawer. When she stood and turned, he had moved a few steps further into her office. He stood closer now, his pensive gaze aimed downward. If she didn’t know better, she would have said he was checking out her upturned bottom. Mentally, she laughed, chiding herself for yearning for something that would never be.

  He said nothing further, though he didn’t leave. This wasn’t like Joseph at all. Livvy inhaled slowly, about to ask if something was wrong, but she caught a hint of his cologne, Ralph Lauren’s Red Polo. She’d recognize it anywhere. Her favorite male scent—probably because Joseph wore it—when at the mall, she could often be found stopping by the men’s counter at Dillard’s for a sample card. Pitiably, she’d then wander through the stores, sniffing it and thinking of him.

  Her phone alarm went off in her purse, realigning thoughts that Joseph had derailed. “Was there anything else?” she prompted.

  Wordlessly, his eyes scanned her face. Livvy found herself returning his scrutiny, noting that in the light of the afternoon sun filtering in through her window, they appeared nearly blue, which was a change from what she usually would have said was more of a brilliant green. Like the man himself, his eyes were also enigmatic. She’d noticed they changed subtly with the light or the color of his shirt or the jacket he wore, but more so with extremes of emotions, which he didn’t often reveal. She’d seen them a greenish brown when he was intently focused on a difficult defense, and once when angry, they’d turned a deep forest green. Thankfully, his anger had been aimed at another, but she’d noticed the unusual color in the aftermath when he’d come stalking into his office. She always wondered how they would appear at the height of passion, when consumed with unbridled lust. Collecting her wayward thoughts, she decided that today, they were like aquamarines and held a strange glint of something she couldn’t quite place. Was that need, or possibly hunger?

  “Mm…” he suddenly hummed and turned. “Have a pleasant night, Olivia.”

  The next instant he was gone, the door to his office clicking shut softly behind him. She quelled the tremor of excitement low in her belly. He’d shown concern for her safety, but that wasn’t unusual, he’d always been considerate of her. Holding the door, helping her with her coat, and if they went out to meet with clients or for depositions, he walked beside her with a guiding hand on the small of her back or beneath her elbow. He was a gentleman, but that was as far as it went much to her regret. It was undeniable that she’d had strong feelings for her boss for three long years, starting way back during her job interview.

  Joseph was like a throwback to a more courtly time, his mannerly ways holding great appeal, a
nd he’d demonstrated them from day one. So rarely did men help women with their coats, hold a chair or open a car door for them anymore, women’s strides for independence backfiring on the niceties they had once enjoyed, ones that Livvy, who was rather old-fashioned herself, sorely missed. He also had an air of authority, which in other men she found off putting, bordering on arrogance and self-importance, but in Joseph was different, more of an innate sense of confidence. He ruled his domain with a quiet authority, rather than a tight fist, which she also found very attractive.

  Prior to her, rumor had it he’d gone through secretaries like water through a sieve. Some of the girls still with the firm accused him of having a stick up his ass, although not to his face, of course. Livvy could understand how that could be misconstrued as petty or difficulty, but she recognized his need for structure and his almost obsessive adherence to rules and order. She certainly didn’t mind because she knew what to expect from him and found that easier to deal with than the disorganization and unpredictability some of the other partners exhibited. Having survived three years in his employ, she was the longest in the position in his twelve-year tenure with the firm.

  Sadly, in all that time, he’d never shown the slightest interest in her other than as a valued employee. Self-consciously smoothing down her skirt, she asked herself for the millionth time, why. She’d often wondered if it was her clothing. It was conservative enough for the office, but hardly dowdy. It was Ann Taylor, after all. Granted, consignment shop Ann Taylor due to her meager budget, which meant it was a few years behind current fashion, but it was her usual pencil skirt and blouse. Did those ever go out of style? It was also snug enough on her five foot six inch, one hundred forty pound frame to show her curves, which she had plenty of, but not be tastelessly tight.

  Today, she’d topped the winter white skirt with a floral shell in blues and corals, a coral jacket, and matching heels—double strap, four-inch heels—which she thought were sexy but not over the top for work. She’d been in and out of his office a dozen times today, but he never seemed to notice, unlike the other partners who she often caught staring at her legs or her ass, and most especially her D-cup breasts. She had often rationalized that maybe he was gay, but that was sour grapes on her part because he never lacked female company.