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He laughs at me as I pull my blouse off and replace it with his shirt. To my disappointment, he slips on his black boxers before walking me to the door.
“I wish you could stay,” he whispers, wrapping me up in his arms. I breathe in the scent of his skin and his shirt that I’m wearing, and I wish the same thing.
“Me too.”
“But I do look forward to seeing you on your knees in the morning,” he says in a low tone, and a thrill tingles at the base of my spine. I look up at him with lust in my eyes. “Wear something sexy for me tomorrow, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’re going to have so much fun now,” he adds, and those words linger on my mind the entire drive home and even after I crawl into my bed, reliving every perfect moment of tonight.
* * *
The next morning, I wear the outfit he loves so much—sheer top and tight skirt. I’ve probably never been more excited to go to work. But I guess I never anticipated getting railed and having multiple orgasms at work before either.
I let myself in when I reach his house five minutes early. He’s not in his office, and I consider searching the house for him, but I know he’d much rather find me waiting for him.
After shedding my coat and my shoes, I grab the pillow from the chair and set it in the middle of the room. I kneel on my knees, just as I hear his distant footsteps somewhere in the house.
With my head down, my body lights up in anticipation when I hear the click of his shoes on the floor. He’s quiet a moment before walking up to me, touching my chin and tilting my head back, so I’m gazing up at him—just like he did on that first day.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, and I breathe it in. Those words are a serotonin boost for my soul. They tell me I’m safe, adored, valued, and have nothing at all in the world to worry about.
He leans down and presses his lips softly against mine. It’s a soft, quick kiss and I already want more. After he straightens up, he walks to his desk.
“From now on, you need more sleep, Charlotte. If you’re going to be out until one in the morning, you need to stay home until ten the next day, understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” I purr.
“Although I’d prefer you aren’t on the streets at all so late at night. Perhaps you should consider staying until morning.”
I smile to myself, my eyes still fixated on the floor. “Yes, Sir.”
When I am on my knees and he is Sir, not Emerson, he plays the part so well. Only slightly different from who he is on a daily basis, I love this power he manifests. It makes me feel so…something. I don’t know how to put a word to this feeling. Like he iseverythingand nothing exists outside this room. I have no other purpose, which really makes me feel at peace. No other purpose means no other worry. Not a house payment or a struggling little sister. No estranged dad or broken family. And no ex-boyfriend. In this space, it’s just him and me. My tasks are simple and fulfilling—please my Sir. I don’t even care anymore about what anyone would say or think about this arrangement. It makes me happy.
“Come here, Charlotte,” he commands, and I crawl obediently toward him. “Stand up.”
I climb to my feet, keeping my eyes down. His fingers drift down my blouse, sending a rush of excitement through me in its wake.
He touches one of the buttons, and I seriously hope he doesn’t plan to rip this one open like he did yesterday. I’m going to run out of shirts. He slips the first button through the hole.
“I’m going to take this off for the day. Is that all right?”
Eagerly I nod.
“Use your words, Charlotte.”
I swallow. “Yes, Sir.” And my mouth goes dry as he slips open my blouse one button at a time and slides it off my body until I’m standing before him in just my bra and skirt.
“This too?” he asks as his fingers glide along the skin just above my skirt. I have to force myself to swallow again.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, this time in more of a whisper.
He gestures for me to turn around and slides the zipper along the back down, letting the skirt fall to the floor. The cool air of his office hits the skin of my ass and goosebumps erupt over my skin.
He’s silent for a moment, my back to him as his fingers delicately graze my arm, and I wait for him to give me my orders. I’m pretty much ready for him to bend me over his desk or force me to my knees.
His lips press softly against my left shoulder, sending warmth to my core. “Get to work,” he says with a gentle smack on my ass.
