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“Yes, Sir,” I reply, biting my lip to keep from grinning too hard.
Focusing on my work proves to be difficult, but I manage to get through a handful of emails and send off the tax documents the accountant needed all within the first couple hours of the work day. I feel Emerson’s eyes on me from time to time. He watches me with a hungry gaze, but I never look back, relishing in his attention while I work.
When I bring him his coffee, he touches my bare legs, running his fingers up the inside of my thigh and making me want to explode, but I stay in character.
“Is there anything else you need, Sir?” I ask with a slight tremble in my voice. He’s driving me crazy on purpose. I don’t know if he’s not currently screwing my brains out because it’s not part of the secretary fantasy for him or if he’s just drawing out the tension. Maybe when the work day is done and we’re out of character, we can go up to his room and do ungodly things to each other. Although if I’m honest, I sort of hope he’ll do it the secretary way. I guess that’s a fantasy I never knew I had.
“That’s all for now, Charlotte.” My name rolls off his tongue like silk gliding through his fingers. I no longer care that he doesn’t call me Charlie. It makes me feel like I am his and only his, and I like that.
Before lunch, he drops his pen onto his desk. I glance over at him to see what’s wrong. “I’m having trouble getting anything done today, Charlotte. You’re distracting me and all I can think about is how beautiful that pussy between your legs is.” He leans forward and levels a devious glare in my direction.
A subtle smile lifts the corners of my lips.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. Why don’t you come over here and read this email for me?” he says in a way that tells me I’ll be doing a little more than reading an email.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, pushing my chair back and walking over. He taps his hand softly on his thigh, signaling for me to sit on his lap.
The moment I rest on his leg, his left hand wraps around my middle, holding me tight to his body. He’s already hard, his erection stiff against my ass. I gently shift my hips to get comfortable, knowing it’s driving him a little crazy.
With his right hand, he opens up the email.
“Read it,” he commands.
I swallow, leaning forward and doing as he said.
“Mr. Grant, the federal withholding form required for your independent contractors is attached. Please see the instructions linked here for more information. Thank you, Miles Ward, CPA.”
“Click the link,” Emerson adds. His hand strokes my stomach, reaching my breasts and giving the right one a squeeze. I click the link and it opens to a tax form.
“Read it.”
“All of it?” I ask.
He pinches my right nipple and I let out a yelp. “Are you questioning me, Charlotte?”
“No, Sir,” I reply. It’s all clearly tax jargon and very boring, so I’m not exactly sure where he’s going with this. Does he really need to know all of this now? Like he’s even going to retain it.
Still, I do as he says.
“File Form 1099, Miscellaneous Income, for each person in the course of your business to whom you have paid the following during the year—”
The fingers of his left hand slip into my panties and slide across my clit. I freeze because it feels so good after hours of waiting to be touched. My eyes close and I hum against his touch.
“Keep going,” he growls, halting his movements.
With a nervous gulp, I open my eyes and obey. “Each person from whom you have withheld any federal income tax under the backup withholding rules regardless of the amount of the payment…” My voice trails off as he dips a finger inside me, sliding easily through the pooling moisture. I let out a tiny moan of pleasure.
“Keep going, Charlotte.”
As I read through the next paragraph of dull, legal jargon, I find it almost too hard to breathe, let alone speak. His finger plunges deep while his hand rubs exquisitely against my clit, and every time I try to rock my hips for more friction, he stills my body with a harsh grip on my hips.
I’m barely even reading correctly; I skip words and bounce around because I know he’s sure as fuck not paying attention to anything this IRS document has to say, but I know he’s trying to test me.
“Read that last part again,” he says in a breathless grunt while he fingers me even harder, pounding into me without letting me move an inch.
“For all corporate entities…that are reporting as part of satisfying your requirement to report…” Fuck, I’m caught somewhere between heaven and agony. “With respect to a U.S. account…” My voice cracks. “…for chapter 4 purposes as described in Regulations section one…four…” I’m coming. My fingers grip the desk and my vision gets blurry.
