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Jeanie
Irelease a soft yelp. His palm comes up and covers my mouth hard and I grunt as he muffles my protests. I’m much smaller than him, barely five-foot-six in heels, and I probably weigh less than half of what he does. He easily manhandles me across the room and over toward the couch stuffed up against the same wall as the door in front of the main windows overlooking the office. The blinds are drawn, like they always are, but I can hear Malcolm Strafford’s voice getting closer.
“What are you doing?” I try to say, but the man’s hand is over my mouth. He collapses back onto the couch and pulls me down with him. I release a yelp of shock as he forces me to straddle him, his one hand going down to grab my ass and shove it up against his crotch, and his other releasing my mouth to move back and grab a fist full of my curly dark hair.
He pulls, hard, and I groan in shock and pain. His thighs are warm and I feel something long and thick between my legs, and my brain’s short-circuiting with fear, arousal, and pure rage. Who the hell is this guy, and why is he pulling me onto his lap?
“Don’t talk,” he whispers as he pulls my face down toward his. “Follow my lead. You know what kind of man Malcolm is, don’t you?”
I don’t have time to respond. Malcolm’s voice is on the other side of the door. “Hold on, I’ll call you back,” he says and the knob turns.
The man acts fast. The hand gripping my ass moves down between my legs, flicks open the fastener keeping my dress slacks together, and shoves his palm down until his fingers graze over my pussy. I moan and struggle but the hand in my hair tightens and he jerks me forward, slamming his mouth against mine, not gently.
His lips are firm and soft at the same time and his tongue floods my mouth. A heady, musky, masculine aroma fills my nostrils and the fucking asshole is kissing me, he’s kissing me, and his other hand is cupping my pussy. His fingers aren’t moving, he’s not stroking me, he’s not teasing me, but he’s right there and fuck, it feels good, it sends a sudden jolt down my spine and creates a massive tingling in my core, and I moan into his kiss, but I’m also trying to struggle because holy shit, I don’t know this guy, and now I’m straddling him, his hand’s pulling my hair, and he’s inches away from fingering me.
And it feels good.
That’s the worst part, the craziest part.
His kiss is like heaven, his lips like candy, his taste like fresh grass and wind-blown wheat. The hand down my pants is big and callused and I’m tempted to start rolling my hips to get some friction going. I’m wet, dripping, and I know he can feel my heat radiating into his palm. I moan, but I also struggle, and my stupid brain is caught between an insane fight-and-fuck response, and I’m not sure if I want to punch this guy in the throat or if I want to let him have his way with me right here on Malcolm’s couch.
I don’t have to make the choice, because the door opens again, and Malcolm steps into the room.
I open my eyes and my boss stares at me in this stranger’s lap. He looks surprised for one split second, but quickly that surprise turns to a smirk. He clears his throat and the guy finally releases me, and I leap up like I’m shot out of a cannon, stumbling backwards.
I nearly fall over one of the chairs, but manage to right myself. That would only make my humiliation that much more complete. My pants are open, my fly undone, and I hurry with fumbling fingers to fasten it again. I’m blushing like crazy, my face beet red.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I say quickly before anyone can speak.
The man’s sitting there with his legs crossed, grinning. “I thought it was exactly what it looks like. Now you’ve hurt my feelings,” he says.
“No, please, it’s not—”
But Malcolm interrupts me. He’s not even looking in my direction, only laughing and shaking his head. “Mr. Bruno, I have to admit, I’ve heard of your reputation, but I didn’t take it seriously. I left you alone for, what, ten minutes? And you’ve already pulled—” He glances at me, still grinning. “This girl into my office. Who are you again?”
“Jeanie Gray,” I say, face the color of watermelon flesh. The fake name rolls off my tongue, because that’s who I am now, my old self buried and gone.
“Right, Jeanie Gray.” He turns back to Mr. Bruno. “Really, Gavino, in my office?”
Gavino shrugs and starts licking the tips of his fingers like he’s cleaning me off them. I nearly gag with humiliation. “I know, Malcolm, it’s tasteless, but I saw her wandering around and thought, why not? We were on a break and I thought we’d have some time alone in here.”
“You’re insane,” Malcolm says, laughing and grinning, and I stand there like a forgotten puppy feeling so utterly small. “But I am impressed.”
But something’s bothering me. Something in that name. Gavino Bruno. I know that name, but I’m too terrified and embarrassed, and my adrenaline’s running too hot for my brain to work right.
“Impressed enough to finance another ten million? Or maybe drop the interest down to four-point-three?”
“Not that impressed, unfortunately.”
Gavino laughs and stands. “Worth a try. Shall we return to the conference room and finish up this deal?”
Malcolm nods and slaps Gavino on the shoulder. Both men turn to the door, but Malcolm hesitates and looks back.
“Ah, Jeanie, dear, by the way, you’re fired.”
I stagger back as if punched in the face.
Gavino’s face twists. It’s only an instant, but I notice it because I can’t stop staring at him. He looks angry, utterly outraged, but he quickly gets control of himself.
