Reluctant Substitute

By Carol Delmornay

After five years, Alison Walker's working life had become stagnant. On an impulsive whim, Alison applies for a PA position with elite modelling agency, Sublime Elegance; certain she didn't stand a chance. According to her live-in boyfriend, Blake, she was an ugly duckling. No-one was more surprised than she was when she landed the job---without

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Delmornay
• Release date: May 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781649456663

Carol Delmornay

Carol Delmornay is a married mother of three, born and raised in the beautiful city of Perth, Western Australia. She and husband Mark moved to a small town in the Goldfields region of Western Australia in December 2015 to renovate their home, and design their gardens. Always a veracious reader, the urge to write didn't hit until later in life. In between attending her children's sporting activities and running a business with her husband, Carol poured many hours, blood, sweat and tears into her first four book series---"His Word-The Trusted Saga". Carol also enjoys writing erotic short stories for her Facebook page---Seductive Angel's Devilish Desires. Carol spends all her spare time writing and listening to music, swimming, walking and enjoying the peaceful life of the country.

Book preview

Also by Carol Delmornay

His Word ~

The Trusted Saga...

His Word...Discovery - Book One

His Word...Doubt - Book Two

His Word...Destiny - Book Three

His Word...Destruction - Book Four

COPYRIGHT

Reluctant Substitute

First Edition

Copyright © Carol Delmornay 2017

All Rights Reserved

THIS NOVEL IS A WORK of fiction. 

Any names, characters, businesses, places, or events, are a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.  Any similarities to any persons, either living, or dead, are purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted by any means; electronic, mechanical, photographic, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from the author, except in brief quotations in a book review.

This book is licensed for your enjoyment only.  This book may not be resold, or given away to other people.

TRIGGER WARNING.

Please note this book contains elements of BDSM, and matters that may trigger distressing memories for some people.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, May 2017

Why do I feel compelled to seek you?

Because I am drawn to you

Hypnotically drawn to the dangerous glint

Of fire in your eyes

Captivating, seductive, and persuading me closer

Like a moth enchanted with a dancing flame

Tempting me to burn

That steady, unwavering, and knowing look

Mesmerizing

Stimulating

My heart beats stronger

Faster

Heated blood surging through my veins

Warming, and moistening my goosing flesh

Leaving me gasping in a sudden breath

Envisioning the delicious essence of you

Saturating my senses

Caving for a taste

Of the contained control

Emanating from the depths of your soul

Chapter One

Excited anticipation , mixed with some trepidation, had me tossing, and turning, all night, ensuring sleep was as elusive as hen’s teeth.  While I lay awake staring through the dark, visionless up at the ceiling, Blake—-my boyfriend of two years—-was almost comatose, and snoring by my side. 

With an angry frown, I also realized he was getting louder with each passing minute, which only increased my annoyance.  With an impatient sigh, I reached out with my right hand, and poked his uncovered shoulder with my index finger.  He released a snort, before his snores quietened—-for all of about five minutes. 

I was thankful he didn’t have too many beers to drink last night.  If he did, I would have slept in the spare room to avoid his hot temper, and his transformation of Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde personality—-but he had had enough beers that it made him snore like a damn freight train rattling down the tracks.

I reached out my right arm again, and put the heel of my palm against the round of his bare shoulder, shoving him hard enough that I rocked his listless body forward, and almost tipped him to lie on his stomach.  Oh, thank God. His snoring finally stopped.

Leaning up on one elbow, I looked over him, and glanced at the red glowing digital numbers on the alarm clock on top of his bedside cabinet.  With a quiet, but irritated groan, I fell back down on the bed, slamming the back of my head on the pillow.  It was no use trying to get any bloody sleep, now.  My alarm was due to go off in just over forty five minutes. 

Laying on my back, I brought my arms up, tucking my hands in underneath my head, until the dawn of another day began to lighten the room with the first soft orange, and yellow glow, of sunrise.

With an exasperated sigh, I threw the covers off, and swung my legs out of bed, taking a minute to sit on the edge of the mattress to calm the nervous butterflies that were beginning to stir in my stomach.

Starting a new job is always a daunting prospect.  After five years in the same dreary office, sitting at the same uncomfortable desk, as assistant to almost as many CEO’s, my working life became stagnant, and I decided it was time for a change of scenery. 

While I was scrolling through all the employment agencies online, a position for a personal assistant at a prestigious modelling agency caught my eye.  On a whim, I submitted my application, and resume, to the elite Sublime Elegance Modelling Agency, rolling my eyes into the back of my head once I sent it. 

What an idiot—-there’s no way you’re going to get it—-just look at you!  I put the fact that I applied to the back of my mind, and concentrated on submitting my resume for positions I knew I had a good chance of securing, for the rest of the week. 

When a lady called Christine phoned to advise me I have an interview to attend at Sublime Elegance, I was totally gob smacked.  I didn’t realistically expect to hear from anyone at all. 

And no-one was more surprised than me when I received a call from Christine, about a week later, offering me the position of Personal Assistant to CEO, and owner, Jaxon Connors.  It was even more surprising when I heard myself eagerly accepting it.

Although my credentials, and experience, were exceptional, I was still mystified with being offered the role.  I was of the opinion they should have offered it to someone who was going to stunningly represent their Agency—-not the mousey-girl-next-door type that I considered myself to be.  Although, according to Blake, I was more in the category of ugly duckling.  He was always reminding me I should be thankful I had him. He pointed out on many occasions that no-one else would want me. I sure as hell wasn’t model material—-I knew that much!

With a weary sigh, I got up off the bed, and padded to the bathroom for a shower, still trying to stem the nervous flutter inside my stomach. 

Once I finished, and stepped out, the fluttering inside gathered strength, making me feel a little nauseous.  After drying myself off, and with the towel tucked in over my breast, sarong style, I stood in front of the large wall mirror, glaring at my reflection.

The sleepless night left me with darkened bags under my eyes, which I thankfully knew how to disguise with the aid of carefully applied makeup. 

Then, I did what I always did when I was confronted by my reflected image—-which was something I tried to avoid doing most of the time—-I assessed the image staring back at me. 

All I saw were the imperfect flaws Blake constantly pointed out to me.  Lips that were too naturally full they looked collagen filled—-a nose that was straight, but too long, and thin, for my face—-the ugly little mole above the left side of my upper lip—-sky blue eyes way too big, and framed by too-long, and too-thick, jet-black lashes—-then, there were my ginormous boobs. 

The bathroom door swung open, startling me, and I prepared myself, my spine automatically stiffening.  Speak of the devil.

Morning, Duckling, Blake mumbled, and I grimaced internally, but was careful not to physically shrink with distaste. Today wasn’t a good day to instigate an abusive argument. I hate that damned nick-name.

I kept my eyes averted from his, and began to apply my makeup, while he reached in, and turned the shower on.  I felt his eyes on me, while he waited for the water to heat. 

You’re not going to last the week, he snorted, and my spine stiffened even further.  God only knows how the fuck you landed that job, Duckie—-just look at you, he stated insultingly.

I am, I thought morosely.  There’s yet another dent in what little self-confidence I had left.  Despite his derogatory comments, I took the time to ensure the application of my makeup was flawless.  Blake finally emerged from the shower as I was putting the finishing touches on my lips.

You think putting all that war paint of yours on is going to make that much of a difference? he laughed malevolently. 

I clenched my jaw tight to prevent my sarcastic comeback from emerging in retaliation.  I stared at him from my reflection in the mirror, and watched his eyes travel over my semi-naked body. 

Least you’ve got a pretty hot body—-that’s one consolation, I suppose—-except for those ridiculously big tits of yours—-what a fucking waste, he mused absently to himself, while he rubbed the towel over his head, drying his short-cropped blonde hair.

You know, Ducks—-you really need to look at getting a breast reduction. He quickly rubbed the towel over his body, before he casually threw it on the floor when he was finished.  It landed in a heap down underneath the towel rail, and he sauntered out of the bathroom without a backward glance. 

With an angry huff, I leaned down, and snatched up the damp towel, and hung it over the rail.  Messy prick—-I’m not your fucking slave!  While I was brushing my thick brunette hair, I decided to add a bit of extra body to it, and plugged in the curling iron.  Half way through, Blake threw open the bathroom door with a loud thud when it hit the wall behind it.

I’m off, he boomed through the doorway, before he closed the door again without even waiting for the slightest acknowledgement from me.

I suppose I should be thankful he actually told me he was leaving. With my hair now falling in soft waves framing my face, and half way down my back, I sprayed liberally with the hairspray, so it stayed that way.  After pulling the towel from around me, I hung it up next to Blake’s on the rail, before I went to get dressed. 

I chose a dark grey, knitted form-fitting dress, with faint white horizontal stripes, and a matching pale pink with black lace bra, and thong set, to wear underneath. 

The hem sat half way down my thighs—-low enough to cover the lace band at the top of the black thigh highs I decided to wear at the last minute. Slipping my feet in a pair of black stilettos, I picked up my bag, and slung the thin strap over my shoulder, skipping down the flight of stairs.  Locking the front door behind me, I made my way down to the bus stop, trying to dispel Blake’s uncomplimentary words from my head.

While I waited for the bus with a couple of other professional looking men—-and one rather unusually clothed, tall, and skinny, Goth-looking teenage boy—-with make-up almost as impeccable as my own—-that I tried really hard not to stare at—-I recalled my original interview. 

Tall—-gorgeous—-blonde—-A woman by the name of Christine conducted the interview. I wasn’t afforded the opportunity of meeting the man who was now going to be my boss.  He was apparently in another state, meeting with prospective clients, so the lovely blonde informed me. She didn’t offer up any further information about him, and I had no idea what to expect. 

I should have done some research on him.  Too late for that now, idiot!  So much for being intelligent!

After I paid for my ticket, and took a seat behind the driver for the short bus ride to the train station, my nerves kicked it up a notch. 

Starting a new job feels almost exactly like when I started my very first day at high school! 

My palms started to feel clammy, and the black ink from the ticket clutched tightly between my fingers started to bleed on my skin.  I opened up the cover of my cell phone, and inserted the ticket in one of the little pockets, ready to produce it at the turnstiles on arrival at the train station to gain entry to the platforms. 

Jesus, I feel sick. When I accepted the job, I did a dry run on the train, and knew just how long it was going to take for me to get there.  But, I left earlier...just in case something happened to waylay me. The last thing I wanted was to be late on my first day.

I was so thankful I lived near a station that was one of the first on the line.  I knew I was guaranteed a seat in the almost empty carriage in the morning. 

By the time the six-carriage train made it half-way to the city, the car I was in was packed to bursting, and when the doors finally slid open to let everyone off at my destination, it took longer for me to get off with all the rush hour commuters that were sandwiched in like tin soldiers, side by side.

Finally, I found myself standing completely in awe in the windy tunnel of St Georges Terrace, staring at the front entrance of Central Park—-the tallest building in the city with fifty one floors, constructed with steel, and curtained walls of aluminum, and glass—-an architectural delight with all its triangles. The dominating building housed the modelling agency—-along with many other various businesses—-and my heart was really beginning to beat wildly against my ribs. 

Nervously teetering in my black stilettos, I walked with way more confidence than I felt, through the automated glass sliding doors on the ground floor.  Inhaling, and exhaling, with measured precision, kept me as calm as possible with a cyclone worthy of a category five rating spinning around inside my stomach.  I approached the bank of elevators to join the sea of people already waiting.  Jesus Christ—-how many people work in this damn building?

When two bells sounded, almost instantaneously, indicating the arrival of two cars, the swarm of professionals who filled the foyer, surged forward, rapidly filling the empty cars once the two pairs of doors slid open. I rocked my head back, and forth, like I was at an Australian Open tennis match, watching in disbelief, while I observed them all pile in, until there was absolutely no standing room for anyone else to possibly squeeze in on either one of them. 

I arrived twenty minutes early, so I hung back, and decided to wait for the next one.  Is everyone in this building always so damned impatient?  There was no way I wanted to be squashed like a sardine in a tin can on my first day.

When both sets of doors finally closed, I breathed a small sigh of relief, and reached out to push the up button to summon another car, with a contented grin on my face.

I was totally absorbed in my own thoughts when the ding of another elevator sounded, capturing my attention.  I waited, while another pair of doors began to slide open.  With a grateful breath, I walked inside, and turned around, gently pushing the forty third floor button, lighting it up with a cheerful smile on my face.  

I spared a thought for all the sardines in the previous cars—-I was the sole occupant in this one, and I looked around at all the space around me.  The doors began to slide closed, and I heard a deeply sensual baritone voice yell out with some urgency.

Hold the elevator! 

Instinctively, my immediate reaction was to stick my hand in between the almost closed doors, and they bounced off my hand, re-opening.  I wrapped my fingers around the width of one door, keeping them open, while a vision of perfection dressed impeccably in a grey suit, raced in. 

He was wearing a striking blue shirt that resembled the blue of the most perfect cloudless sky, and a tie the color of the deep ocean.  His enticing aromatic aftershave wafted temptingly under my nose when I let go of the door, and took a step back, while they softly closed. 

My mouth watered, and I was shocked with my body’s very unfamiliar response.  I needed to discretely swallow, a few times over, before my mouth dried out again.  I kept my gaze averted, ashamed of my body’s immediate reaction to the sexy, and handsome stranger, while my stomach dropped from the commencing ascent of the car.

Thank you...Miss...? he paused, waiting expectantly for my reply. 

My biggest mistake was turning around to look at him.  I couldn’t help the automatic evaluation of his attractive athletic frame. From the tip of his neatly cut short black hair, down over his axe-width broad shoulders, to his wide, solid chest, further south over his trim waist, his thick thighs, and onward to the tip of his shiny black shoes, and back again. 

He was hotness personified.  An alluring picture of him was certain to appear under the words heart-throb typed into Google images, and my heart rate spiked.

Ali, I automatically offered the shortened version of my name, while my face heated.  Alison—-Walker.  I corrected lamely.

His perfectly shaped brow quickly quirked upward for a brief second, as if he recognized my name.  But, then he smiled so intoxicatingly, my heart skipped a beat, while my mind went completely blank, devoid of any thought at all.  I glanced down in surprise at the hand he extended out to me.

Jack, he offered smoothly in a mesmerizing tone. 

I felt the beat of my heart in the side of my neck when I extended my hand.  I tried to stem the slight tremor of nervousness to shake to our informal, and impromptu, introduction.  My heart went into overdrive when his long strong fingers wrapped around mine, and an electric bolt of awakening lust sparked through me at the warmth of his firm touch, shooting straight down to the apex between my legs. 

My thighs involuntarily clenched together, and once again, I was blown away with my body’s reaction, while all the breath temporarily left my lungs.  Jesus. 

Moisture gathered between the bare lips of my pussy, and a deep throb started up behind my clit.  When I remembered to breathe again, my heart beat ratcheted up a few notches, and I knew my blood pressure was rising quickly, catching up.

My breath grew even shallower, and I stood rooted to the spot with ever widening eyes, while I watched him raise my hand up, my small fingers almost disappearing when encircled in his large, tightening grip. My lungs refused to work at all when his lips gently, but sensuously, touched against the back of my hand, while his compelling cyan green eyes never left mine.

When his lips touched against my skin, the moisture between my thighs increased, and the throb behind my clit pounded with building excitement. 

I’ve never experienced such a sensual, and erotic kiss, in my entire life—-let alone one placed on the back of my hand.  My first cognitive thought, once my brain decided to function again, was what a gentleman he was. I always thought they were a myth—-an extinct breed.  I never met one before—-ever.

His hold on my hand was lasting entirely too long, and was wreaking havoc through my already somersaulting stomach—-not to mention accelerating the amount of warmth, and moisture, in the area between my legs.  I nervously pulled out of his grip, while heat increased through my face, and I lowered my eyes to the floor of the elevator.

The space I was gleefully enjoying a few moments ago, now seemed to be stifling, and suffocating, and I shuffled restlessly to the furthest side of the car.  His presence was unnervingly overpowering. 

I flicked a glance up to see what floor we reached, and almost released a groan of disappointment when I saw the car only travelled up to level eight.  I still have another thirty five floors to endure, trapped inside a confined space with sexy, hotter-than-hell, Jack, before I reached my destination.

It was only when my eyes were returning down to the floor that I realized he didn’t press a floor number, and my brows creased slightly.  I risked a quick glance in his direction—-then wished I didn’t when I saw he was quite comfortably checking me out.  The heat prickling ever higher through my cheeks increased, radiating off me like a heater, making me feel all hot, and bothered. 

I didn’t think there was going to be enough oxygen left inside the car for me to make it to the forty third level, the way I was sucking in every available bit with the way I was panting.  Jesus Christ.  At this rate I was likely to collapse from asphyxiation, before the car stopped.  I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and adjusted the thin strap of my little handbag on my shoulder, trying in vain to calm myself down.

What a great first impression I’m going to make—-red faced, and panting heavily as if I’ve just climbed the entire forty three floors up the stairs, instead of riding up in the damned elevator.  Maybe Blake’s right.  But his timing might be out—-I may not last the day—-let alone the week!

When I glanced back up to see what floor we reached, I groaned inwardly.  Ten more floors.  I was so damn flustered, I began wringing my clasped hands in front of me, and chewing on the inside of my bottom lip.  And hotness personified still didn’t press a button. 

Then a sudden realization hit me, and I mentally slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead.  Of course—-he’s probably one of the models at the agency.  He definitely looks like one—-he’s undoubtedly well sought after, too, with his insanely steamy presence.

The ding sounded, alerting me that I finally reached my desired floor, and I breathed a quietly enormous sigh of relief when the elevator came to a gentle halt—-dropping my stomach once again—-before the doors slid open. This is it.

Hotness personified swept his arm gallantly out in front of him toward the now opened doors, with a seductive, and disarming, smile on his face.

After you, Miss Walker. 

His perfectly shaped, and well-proportioned lips stretched so beguilingly, it unsettled me—-so much, I almost tripped over the lip of the car on my way through the doorway when I exited into the plush offices. 

I was extremely aware of his potent presence following closely behind me.  If the prickles on the back of my neck were any indication, he was too damned close.  I practically felt his heated breath caressing across my dampened nape, and an unexpected tingling shiver of desire feathered down the length of my spine. 

I silently thanked God that I wasn’t going to be working too closely with any of the models.  If I did, I think Mr. Hotness would mess with my head, as well as my heart rate, and blood pressure.

I knew I was to meet Mr. Jaxon Connors on my arrival.  During the phone call the lovely Christine made offering me the position, she informed me he was the person who will outline what expectation I was required to meet, in the post I accepted.  My job was to be his right hand woman. 

With excited anticipation, I approached the gorgeous Christine, sitting elegantly behind her classy black lacquered curved desk, with a shaky smile gracing my lips, opening my mouth ready to ask for Mr. Connors—-but she beat me to it, her gaze fixating over my right shoulder.

Good morning, Mr. Connors.  The day’s bookings are already on your desk, along with your coffee. 

FUCK.  I nearly died a thousand deaths, before I heard his sexually seductive voice croon my name from behind me.

This way, Miss Walker—-what an exceptional start to see you have arrived ahead of time, he grinned handsomely, but commandingly, and raised one brow. 

Oh, God—-hotness personified is my fucking boss?  Jack?—-oh shit—-he must have said Jax! I’m not even going to last the hour, let alone the day. 

I prayed with all my might I was going to have my own office space, because if I was required to share any space with Mr. Jaxon, devastatingly-handsome, Connors, there is absolutely no way I was going to be able to concentrate on any task whatsoever. 

While I followed his tempting, and sexy physique down the corridor, I was ashamed of myself for the furtive glances I kept making at his decidedly tight ass.  My face fired up even further when I envisioned what that ass would feel like beneath the palm of my hand.  Oh, my God—-get a grip, Ali!  What the hell is wrong with me? 

My heart fell like a lead balloon inside my chest when I followed him through the door of what I decided was his office—-it was huge...but it contained two desks.  Oh, fuck, no.  I had a sneaky suspicion I was going to have to share office space with Mr. Hotness. 

He walked up to the larger of the two desks, and placed one hand firmly on the back of one of two chairs, pulling it slightly away from the desk.

Take a seat, Miss Walker. 

Does he really have to say my name so delightfully?  I almost groaned with frustrated arousal, but fought hard to keep it from coming out of my mouth, while I attempted to sit on the sturdy seat.  He surprised me by sliding the chair in underneath me, and I glanced up in astonishment, while I breathlessly thanked him for his chivalrous act.

That simple action was yet another first for me.  No man has ever seated me like that before.  But now—-I was well aware of the abundant amount of moisture that was gathered between my thighs from the trip up in the elevator.  Holy shit.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so aroused just by simply being in a man’s company before. 

My eyes were trained on him, while he walked around his large desk, and rolled the high backed leather chair away from the edge.  When he eased himself on the seat, he rolled back in, but not all the way under. 

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the slightly wicked grin pulling at his lips as he sat across from me, didn’t help with my predicament.  I had an urgent desire to clear my suddenly dry throat.

Do I make you nervous, Miss Walker? 

His baritone resonance washed pleasantly through my ears. I squirmed a little on the seat of my chair, and my face began to heat yet again, when that action only highlighted the slickness gathered between the bared lips of my pussy. 

I crossed my legs, and clenched my thighs together, almost jolting with the gentle pulse of pleasure when I did, while I mentally debated with myself over whether I was going to lie, or tell the truth.  Truth won.

A little, I admitted quietly with an acknowledging nod.

Hmm—-I seem to have that effect on women—-so I’ve been told. 

Does his voice always sound so deep, and seductively sexy?  I hope not, because it’s damned distracting.  In fact, the man as a whole is damned distracting. 

He started talking, advising me of his expectations, and I did try to concentrate—-I really did—-but I think I only caught every fourth word, because when his lips were moving, the only thought inside my head was how wonderfully erotic they’d feel travelling over the heated surface of my skin. 

Where the hell are these thoughts coming from?  Concentrate, Alison!  Anger was starting to build inside me—-at myself.  I was normally so professionally in control—-but I felt like I was drowning in his presence.

Thank God Christine’s articulately sweet voice chose that moment to interrupt through the intercom, advising Mr. Connors someone by the name of Montana was on the line for him.  An immediate scowl creased his handsome features, and he excused himself, before he picked up the receiver of his desk phone.

I tuned out, cheerfully taking the opportunity to try and center myself.  It was working, too—-right up until I heard his rich baritones becoming strained, while his deep octaves rose up a few notches.  The harsh authoritarian tone he was using while talking to the person called Montana, indicated he was more