I return to the desk and sit, leaving her standing. I open the contract, riffle through the pages. “Did you read the terms of your employment, Miss Vreeland?”
She nods. “Yes, but it’s been a while. I started last year, Mr. McKnight.”
I hand her the sheaf of papers. “Recite the first rule.”
She swallows. Her voice is soft but steady. “Secretary will immediately comply with all reasonable requests from his/her boss.”
A pregnant pause, as I lift my brows.
“Are you ready to comply?”
She nods again, swallowing hard.
“Good,” I say, taking the sheaf of papers from her. “Come here, Miss Vreeland.”
She approaches, hands at her sides, face upturned.
I reach for her narrow waist, pull her in. Her breathing accelerates; I can feel the tremor in her belly, the anticipation.
“Let’s see if you’re as obedient as you claim,” I murmur.
With both hands, I grip her ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to make her gasp. I lift her, set her on the desk, legs dangling. Her skirt rides up another inch, exposing the tops of her thighs. I smooth the silk over her legs, then slide my hands up, under the hem. She’s not wearing stockings. Even better.
I keep my voice soft, almost gentle. “Did you wear panties, Miss Vreeland?”
She shakes her head, cheeks flushed pink.
“Why not?”
“I thought you’d like it better, Mr. McKnight,” she whispers. “You always do.”
I want to ravage her, right here, right now, because she’s right. I love my little girl nude with no panties, flashing that pink cunt at me at all hours. But I savor the tension. I want Kat writhing, desperate, so far gone that when I finally fuck her, it breaks her in half.
I push her knees apart, spreading her legs, and slip my fingers up the inside of her thigh. She’s so warm, so soft, and when I reach her cunt, she’s already drenched, slick and wanting. I drag a single finger along the seam, slow, and she shudders.
“Oooh,” she moans, tossing her head back while her eyes flutter shut. “Mmm!”
“Good girl,” I rasp, and reward her by slipping a finger inside, just enough to make her whimper.
I watch her face the whole time: the way her eyes close, the way her mouth falls open, the way her breasts rise and fall. I want to see her lose it because it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
I add a second finger, curling them up, and her whole body arches. “Oh, god, Mr. McKnight,” she breathes. “That feels so good!”
I growl.
“It’ll feel even better in a second.”
I press my thumb to her clit, gentle at first, then harder, circling, never letting up. Her thighs tremble around my hand, her hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard the knuckles go white.
“You want to come, don’t you?” I rasp.
“Yes, sir,” she gasps. “Please, please?—”
“Not yet.” I pull my hand away, savoring the way she whines, the shock of it.
I stand, undo my belt, and let my cock spring free. I’m hard as stone, the tip already leaking and slick. Her eyes go wide, and for the first time all day, she looks a little scared.
“Don’t worry,” I say, stroking myself, “I’ll go slow. But you’re going to take every inch today. Do you understand, Miss Vreeland?”
