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And now I can barely afford an ambulance chaser type lawyer. I can’t let them take Charlie. I work two jobs as it is, but it’s not enough. Not enough. I look up at Gentry and he’s just sitting there on the edge of the desk, staring at me, that easy, expectant expression on his face.
Shit. Fuck. Shit, shit, shit. FUCK. Are my options really to expose myself to Handsome Boss Man or suck off sleazy landlord Mr. Jenks-a-lot? I shudder even thinking about the second option. And that would only get me one month’s rent. As opposed to what?
Fuck, Callie, you think showing your tits to Boss Man this once is gonna be the end of it? Don’t be stupid. This is just the audition. My mind scrambles for other options when I see Gentry start looking impatient again.
Oh, fuck it.
I start opening the buttons on my cheap blouse. I’ll figure the rest of it out later. If Gentry tries something I can’t handle, I’ll just start screaming. His secretary is on the other side of the glass wall, for Christ’s sake.
I glance up at Gentry again. The easy smile is gone and the intensity is back. Instead of my chest though, he’s watching my face. I look away, behind him at the distant Bay Area skyline. It’s a magnificent view. I can even see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. I’m at the last button. I let my shirt fall slack.
“Hold it open.” Gentry’s voice has gone deep.
I stare at the floor as I pull the shirt to the side. It’s still tucked into my pants. I have to tug to get it loose enough so that it pulls all the way around the curving edges of my breasts. I look at the floor, but watch Gentry with my periphery vision.
I can always run if he makes a move toward me. But will I? Shit. I don’t know how far I’m willing for this to go. I need this job. That’s the only reason my breath is getting quicker. Right?
“Pull the cups of your bra down. Sit those fat luscious tits on top of them.” There’s a rasp to his voice now. Damn. Have I heard a man’s voice like that anywhere outside of a movie?
My breath hitches as I push down the left cup and pull my breast out.
“Mmmm, that’s right,” he says low. “Look at that nipple. So pink and pretty and getting hard just listening to my voice.”
Shit. I look down. My nipple is hard, but it’s not from what he’s saying. It’s not. It’s just cold in here. That’s all.
Right, maybe I could believe that. If I weren’t sweating.
“Look at me, Callie.” My name doesn’t sound stupid or immature coming from his voice now. “Look at me, in the eye.”
And shit, I do. I meet his gaze. He doesn’t have his hand on his cock like I expected. His hands are braced on the desk and he’s just watching me. Watching my face. Can he see how short of breath I’m getting? Did he see how I just twisted my legs together?
No. Oh my God, this is not turning me on. This is all so wrong. I’m disgusted by this. By this whole situation that he’s putting me in. I’m a fucking feminist, for God’s sake. I hate this shit. He’s dragging women’s rights back a hundred years by doing this.
“Now pull out your right tit,” he says in that deep, growling voice of his, so low it’s almost like it’s mesmerizing me. That’s what it is. I’m not doing this entirely consciously. It’s some kind of spell he’s got me under.
“That’s riiiiiight,” he says slowly. “Pull out that pretty tittie, and then roll the nipple in your fingers. Grab both your breasts and rub them. Grab them like you do when you’re touching yourself.”
This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I do it. I grab my breasts in both hands as he watches.
“That’s right, twist it.” He speaks through his teeth. “Like that, that’s right my pretty girl. Massage them. Gently at first. Eyes on me.”
I swallow even though my mouth is the driest it’s ever been in my life. He slowly moves from the desk. I see it but I don’t pull back. He’s closer. Just a step away.
“Now I want you to pull a little rougher. Squeeze your nipple between your thumb and forefinger.”
I do it.
He’s so close I can smell him now. Cologne, aftershave, I don’t fucking know what it is or how to describe it. But it smells manly and I can feel the warmth radiating from his hard chest. I pant even harder. Oh God, am I really panting now? There’s that telltale heat that’s started in my stomach. It shoots to the place between my thighs and my panties. My cheap cotton Walmart panties are wet. I can’t— How can—?
He leans in and I think he’s going to touch me. But even though he’s so close my hands holding my breasts are near enough to brush his chest, he only runs his nose along my cheek, never actually making contact. Like he’s scenting me.
“Are you wet, pretty girl?”
Oh my God. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. He can’t smell that from all the way up here, can he? My hands freeze on my breasts. Everything freezes. What the hell am I doing? How did I get myself into this situation?
But Bryce Gentry doesn’t freeze. He moves again, this time moving around behind me. His breath is hot in my ear as he reaches around me from behind. His hands cover mine over my breasts. “Yes, you’re perfect. A perfect little slut, just for me to take out when I want to play.”
At the word slut, he pushes my hands gently away and squeezes my nipples.
