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I knew it was him.
“Mr. Blackthroat.” I smile. “Are you here for a massage?”
Even in the dark room, I can see his flat expression. But he settles on the edge of my lounger, still holding my foot captive, so I decide to tease him. “Or are you here to order me to relax?”
“If I did, would you obey?”
“Mmm, depends on what mood I’m in.”
“You’ve been particularly impertinent these last few weeks.”
Oh here it is. The punish the naughty secretary game he promised. My favorite game. This is safe territory for us.
“You love it. You rewarded me with a whole spa day.” I wave at the trickling fountain. “If this is punishment, I’d like more. A lot more.”
“Oh you’ll get more.” He leans closer, sliding his hand up my bare leg. This is more like it.
“But really, this was too much.”
“Well, I need my assistant in top shape, so I can work her harder.”
My sex clenches. “You do work me hard.”
“So hard.”
I stretch out, still feeling languid from my day of relaxation. The blanket flops to the ground, giving him a full view of me in my new bathing suit. The bikini is a little smaller than what I’d normally wear, and when I move, the thin strip of fabric between my legs slips, giving him a peek of my pussy.
His eyes gleam in the dark.
I move my foot, so it’s propped on his thigh. I can’t believe I’m being so bold. Lemongrass tea must make me shameless. “Maybe you need a day of relaxation.”
“Lying around isn’t my style. I prefer something more…vigorous.” And he reaches out and tugs the string of my bikini top, making my breasts pop out of the triangles. My nipples harden as they’re exposed to the air. My abs tighten, and my core begins to throb.
“Why Mr. Blackthroat,” –I make my voice high and breathy– “whatever do you mean?”
“Let me show you.” With his hands on my calves, he slides me down, so I’m flat on my back. He climbs over me, planting his hands by my shoulders and moving so his big body hovers over mine. Up close, I can see his hair is tousled, unruly. I reach up to smooth it, and he catches my wrist, pinning it beside my head.
Now I’m panting. His fingers are rough on my bare skin as he skims his free hand down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
He’s drinking in the sight of me half naked. “This is hardly appropriate work attire, Ms. Evans.”
“No? I kind of like it.” I wriggle my hips, and the bikini bottoms slide over my slick labia.
“You better not wear it in front of anyone but me.” His possessive stare takes my breath away. “Or else.”
“Or else…what?”
His growl makes me shiver. He reaches down and fists the bikini bottoms, tugging them so they’re tight between my pussy lips. He pulls harder, flossing the fabric against my clit. I writhe, and he drops his chest, pinning my upper torso while still keeping his full weight off me. He watches my face closely as he works the bathing suit like a rope between my legs. It’s perfect and painful, and he knows just how to twist the cloth to torture me. In the dim light, his eyes seem to glow.
The stimulation makes me writhe under him. I rock from side to side, but there's no escape, just the friction of my bare breasts against the expensive Italian cotton of his shirt.
“Oh, fuck.” My orgasm is there, just out of reach. My chest is flushing, my breasts growing hot and tight.
“I don’t know if you deserve to come,” he taunts. “You’ve been so bad.”
If I don’t come soon I’ll die. “Oh my God, please…”
Light flares in his eyes, and he rips the bathing suit off. I cry out, wanting more, and then his mouth is on me. His beard is rough on my sensitive skin, and the discomfort combined with his lush tongue pushes me over.
