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I release my hold on her wrists, only to flatten one of her palms against the glass, then the other. "Hold on."
I grasp her hips, pull back my leg, then slide it forward again. She pushes her palms into the glass, then bends her knees so she’s seated firmly on my thigh. "Good girl. Now, let me take you to the edge."
I increase the pressure around her neck enough for her to pant. Then, I begin to saw my leg back and forth between her thighs. Each time I thrust forward, I increase the pressure on her clit. Each time I pull back, I slow down to ensure she feels every tendon of my thigh. She moans and whines and tries to wriggle away even as she pushes down her butt and tries to increase the surface area of contact between us. She arches her back, her legs quiver, and I know she’s close. "Mr. Warren, I’m so close."
"Sir," I growl.
She hesitates.
I lick up her cheek. "Sir. You call me Sir from now on, understand?"
She shudders. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Warren, Sir."
The sound of her voice in that subservient voice sends my pulse rate spiking. The blood thuds behind my eyes, at my temples, in my balls. She arches her spine, her hips jerk and that’s when I know she’s close, so close. I press my cheek against hers. "You ready to come?"
She nods.
"Open your eyes. Watch how the world out there watches you hump my leg as you’re poised to fall apart in front of them."
She cracks open her eyelids and peers outside from under her heavy eyelids.
"Good girl."
She moans, and her entire body constricts with a tension that radiates out from deep inside of her. She’s at the edge. That’s when I release her. I step back, keeping my hand on her shoulder until I’m sure she’s capable of standing on her own. Then, grabbing her bag and spinning around, I walk over to sit down at my desk. I place her bag on the top and watch as she stays plastered against the window for a few more seconds. Then, as understanding dawns that I’m no longer holding her up, her entire body grows rigid. She turns and realizes that I’m seated at my desk.
"What…" she croaks. "What are you doing?"
"Attending to my work. Which, if you want to keep your job, is what you’d do, too." I lower my gaze to my phone and swipe down the screen.Wait for it. Wait for it. In 3-2-1…
She stomps over to my desk, then swipes the few pieces of paper on it to the floor.
13
Penny
"You asshole. How dare you toy with me?" I snap.
He yawns. Bastard yawns and continues to study the screen. Anger blasts through my veins. I reach forward, grab the phone from his hand, and throw it over my shoulder.
His jaw hardens. He raises his gaze slowly to mine, and a pulse ticks at his jaw.Uh-oh, what I did wasn’t very wise, eh?I take a step back, and another. He rises to his feet and keeps rising--because he’s so freaking tall—and I have to tip my head back to see his face. He holds out his palm.What? Oh.I turn, scamper to where the phone lies face down and bend to pick it up, then gasp when his big hands grab on my waist and hold me in place. "You shouldn’t have done that, Little Dove."
"It’s your fault! You drove me to it, you unfeeling brute, you piece of— Ah!" I cry out as he spanks my backside. Not again. He wraps his arm about my waist and hauls me up to my feet because, of course, I weigh nothing to him, then turns and walks over to his chair. He sits down and splays me across his lap. I wriggle around, try to escape and come in contact with that solid column in his pants. Instantly, I stop my movements, but my pussy recognizes that I’m very close to the one thing that can put me out of my torment.Damn him, damn him for always getting the upper hand.
"You’re a bully, a horrible man who’s intent on torturing me and—" I squeal as he flips up my dress and brings his heavy hand down on my butt cheek. Not again. What is it with this man and my ass? He seems to constantly find ways to touch it and tap on it and oh—He massages the butt cheek he hit, and the heat of his palm sears me through my panties. He rubs the ache through my asscheek, and it sinks through my blood and circles my clit. I can’t stop the whimper that leaves my mouth, can’t stop myself from squeezing my thighs together to clamp down on the ache that blooms between my legs.
"You like that, hmm?" His hard voice rumbles over me, and that only sends my nerve-endings skittering in delight.
"You know I like it. You know I want your touch. You know also how much I hate that you can get my body to respond to you. And you know I need this job, and yet, you’re intent on breaking every possible rule of etiquette between us."
"Etiquette?" His voice sounds almost puzzled.
I shove my hair out of my eyes and glance up at him over my shoulder, "You’re my boss, and I’m supposed to be your assistant. There’s meant to be a professional relationship between us, but you’ve been overstepping that line—no, trampling all over that line—since I walked into the room. In fact, you’ve been coming onto me since we met and—" I swallow the rest of my words as he lifts me up and plants me on my feet next to his chair. The fabric of my dress flows down over my thighs. He holds his hands on my waist long enough to ensure I’m not going to stumble. Then, he lowers his arms, and jerks his chin toward the table.
"What?" I scowl.
"My phone."
"Oh, right." I place the phone clutched in my hand on the table.
