Doggie Style – Author Piper Rayne

Doggie Style


Rumors never bothered me. If people want to guess at my sexuality because I design dog clothes for a living—let them. I know the truth.

I’m a red-blooded heterosexual male and just because I don’t have my tongue hanging out of my mouth around every female like my dog Cooper, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the female form. 

Now with Teegan Lowery in my life I’m suddenly panting right next to Cooper, hoping for a taste.

I hired her for her stellar PR skills, but she’s slowly weaseling her way into a spot I’ve kept a NO VACANCY sign on for years. Everything about Teegan screams unavailable. The last thing I need is another dramatic, high maintenance woman in my life. Believe me, been there and done that.

But the sexual tension between us is like a game of tug-of-war and neither of us wants to lose.

I love dogs.
She hates them.
Turns out, we both love doggie style.

Read the Excerpt

“So.”

My head rears back because without warning Teegan pops up in front of me, her oversized purse now on the counter with a pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Yeah, I’m not sure this is going to work out,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Her tone sounds similar to a woman who just received the ‘let’s be friends’ speech.

“Thank you for coming out, but I’m a low-key kinda guy and…” I stop myself to think of the right word. This woman seems like she’d be the kind to hit me in the eye with the pointy end of her designer shoe. “You seem high”—maintenance, I think—“energy.”

She huffs and squares her shoulders. “I’m high-energy?” She puts ‘high-energy’ in air quotes. “Believe me, Mr. Vaughn, that’s exactly what you want in a PR rep.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry you came out here, but I just don’t see how we’d jibe together.” Paisley starts barking, so I head back to the salon area.

Where the hell is John? He’s late for his shift.

The sound of heels on my hardwood floors echo behind me. “Mr. Vaughn, I’m not sure what I did to offend you, but I guarantee you, I’m the best the city has to offer.”

“The best?” I question, turning off the blower. “Then how come Fink and Deed let you go two months ago?”

Her face reddens.

Shit. I’m an asshole.

“Because I have a vagina.” She crosses her arms and her hip juts out in dramatic fashion.

I stand there, staring at her and blinking, because I’m not sure what to say to that. Luckily, she fills in the blanks for me.

“My boss at Fink and Deed was really old-school. I kept getting passed over for promotions and the good accounts were all given to my co-worker because in short, my boss was a misogynist who didn’t think a woman could do the job as well as a man. That’s the honest truth. I’d had enough and decided to go it on my own. I may just have let them know what I thought of the entire organization before I did and so they fired me.”

It’s clear to me that she’s being sincere and I feel an ounce of pity for her. That had to be a frustrating situation to deal with day after day.

“Well, what can I say, some of us are dicks.” I lead Paisley out of her room to brush her and Teegan steps back, her bitchy stance faltering.

“Listen,” she says. “I know I’m a little high-strung, but that’s only because I think I can help you and I take my job seriously.”

Her confidence seems to be waning based on the timid smile on her face. For whatever reason her eyes are laser-focused in on Paisley, who is sitting calmly by my feet.

“How about a week trial?” I say.

“A week? I’m not sure that’s—”

“Enough time?” I finish her sentence.

She nods, but her face has lost all color, her eyes never wavering from Paisley. “I’d prefer a month. It takes time to implement ideas and see results.”

“I tell you what, you give me one thing I can’t get myself in the next week and the job is yours.”

For the first time in the last five minutes, her eyes move away from the dog and up to me. “Deal.”

She steps forward with her hand outstretched. Paisley perks up, ready for some petting time, and Teegan freezes. “Well, you seem to have your hands full, so we’ll save the handshake for when you officially hire me.”

She swivels on those high heels of hers and it’s impossible not to notice the way they make the muscles in her long, tanned legs look perfect for wrapping around my waist. I mean, a man’s waist. Any man but me.

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