Filthy Boss (3 page)

I completely fail to hear whatever the message says, because Tantalize is still on my screen. Oh. My. God.

The message can wait. I could have sworn that I closed this. Maybe I didn't. Did I remember to turn off the screen before I left yesterday? Did someone see? Did
Charles
see?

Heat rises to my cheeks and my heart picks up it's pace.

No. It's fine. I'm sure the screensaver kicked on a few minutes after I left. No one would have a reason to look on my computer while I'm not here. I look at Tantalize's oversized and brazen logo and mentally curse it out using every swear word I know. If someone had seen there wouldn't be any doubt what I had been doing. While at work.

I'm going to get fired.

I save the story to my profile to be finished later (Even if I get fired that story could come in handy later), and close the window. No more fantasies at work. It can't happen. The water in my bottle in my small fridge gets drained immediately and I have to go to the kitchen for more. Why is it suddenly so hot in this building?

I seriously need to calm down. Someone should slap me like they do to all those women having hysterics in movies. But would that really help?

I don't know, but the water does. I go back to my desk, and listen to the message again. It's from accounting. They need to speak to him when he comes in today. I make a note.

I call Mr. Jenkins' office and leave a message—it's still early in Seattle. Then I throw myself into my work. I will not think about what might have happened. I will not fantasize about my boss. I will not think about sex at all. From now on I'm a puritanical virgin. I am a nun. Yep.

I will not think about it.

Dammit. This is hard. No pun intended.

***

B
y the time Charles makes it into the office a little before noon I've gotten a hold on myself. Mostly. I had a couple of moments where I allowed myself to think about how bad it would be if someone caught me writing porn at work, but I was mostly okay.

I get a jolt of adrenaline when I see him coming down the hall, and I grab his messages. "Good morning, Mr. Saxon. How did the presentation go?" See? You sound fine. Totally professional. Cool.

He smiles. "Well, I think. I'm hoping to hear from them either today or tomorrow. If they call, put them straight through."

"I will. You have a couple of messages—accounting would like to speak with you, and the manager of the D.C. hotel called about the renovations to their ballroom." He takes the slips from me. "Oh, and I'm still waiting to hear back from Mr. Jenkins about that call."

I swear I see him roll his eyes. "Thanks, Alyssa."

He goes into his office, and I think I might melt from the relief. My fears of being fired were totally irrational. My fears usually are irrational, but that's entirely beside the point. He doesn't know. This was a close call. From now on I'll write the fantasies when I get home, because you can be damn sure I'm not going to stop having them.

"Hey, Alyssa, can you come in here for a second?" Charles calls from the office.

There's a little butterfly in my stomach as I head inside. "Sure."

He's in the process of hanging up his suit jacket. "Before I take care of these messages, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Of course."

He sits at his desk and pulls his phone out, typing. "The night we first met, you told me you expected our relationship to be entirely professional."

My stomach drops down to the ground. Considering that we're on the fiftieth floor, it's a long drop. "That's right, I did. I appreciate that you've respected that."

He smiles at me, a genuinely delighted smile. "So imagine my surprise when I found out that you've been writing graphic sexual fantasies about two characters, who are shockingly similar to you and I."

"No." All the blood drains from my face. This isn't happening. It's so, so much worse than when I imagined it this morning.

"I just wanted to know where that lies in the line of keeping our relationship professional?"

He's still smiling. Is he going to fire me? How can I salvage this?
THINK
. But my brain is all mushy, and the only thing that I can force out of my mouth is, "I can explain..."

"You don't have to explain anything. There's nothing wrong with this. I love this." He gestures to his phone, "But I think you may have lied about wanting to be professional."

"I—" Nothing else comes out. There aren't any words.

"I can feel the bite of a button into my wrist as he ties my hands with his shirt, but I can't care. The view of his chest makes it all worth it."

Oh my god he's reading it. All the blood rushes back from where it went and goes straight into my face. I can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from my face. He's still smiling. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, even if you haven't seen me without a shirt yet. That's one of my favorite bits. I have others..."

"No, please." I take a step forward. "Stop."

"You wrote this. So did you lie about what you wanted?" I don't say anything. Instead I'm trying to figure out how to get the phone out of his hand. He starts again, "He moves inside me faster and faster, and I want to touch him even though he told me no. Instead I'm trapped by his will and his word—"

"Stop." I say, moving around the desk. He has to stop. It's not meant to be read out loud.

He moves too, away from me, reading all the time. "The thought makes me shudder with pleasure."

"Mr. Saxon. Charles."

We're on opposite sides of the desk again. "To get me to stop you have to admit that you lied."

Rage flows through me, giving me focus through the fog. "I didn't lie. I did—do want our relationship to be professional. My fantasies are none of your business."

He walks over to his couch and sits on the arm. "They are my business when they are about me. Now stop trying to take my phone, I'm quite enjoying this." The grin is back. "His mouth covers my nipple and I gasp the sweet sensation of teeth and tongue, teeth and tongue, over and over again."

To hell with this. If he's not going to stop reading, I'll make him stop. Then we can talk about professionalism. He locks eyes with me as I come around the desk, and he's not smiling any more. "Alyssa," He says, "Stop. I'm going to finish this." I take another step towards him, ignoring the fact that him giving me a command is exactly what all these fantasies are about. "Don't. Move." His face is deadly serious. He turns back to his phone. "'I'm so close.' I whisper, and I feel him slow down, making it last until—"

Enough is enough. I close the distance and grab at the phone, but Charles gets there first. He grabs my wrist, and now we're eye to eye. And then before I can fully grasp what's happening, he pulls me across his lap, and he spanks me.

Fiery pain bursts from the spot, and I freeze. He spanks me again, and again, his words punctuating the pain. "I. Told. You. Not. To. Move."

The pain subsides and I find that my breath is coming in gasps, and I can feet the heat between my legs. His hand moves slowly now, massaging away the pain. This is exactly what I wanted. I thought it was just a fantasy, something that I would just imagine to—I never thought it would be real.

Charles pulls me upright and close, moving my legs for me so that I'm straddling him. My breathing is out of control and I know I'm bright red and I don't understand how he's so calm because I've never been more turned on in my life.

He wraps his hands around my wrists, holding me against him. "That was for moving when I told you not to. Don't do it again. And don't ever lie to me."

My mind is blank. Totally blank. Where are my words? "But...I didn't lie." I say, taking a deep breath. "It's just a fantasy."

"You lied." He says, "But your body doesn't." And then his hand is under my skirt and his fingers touch me and oh god I'm so wet. I close my eyes, so I can't see him look at me. This can't be real. This can't be what I want. But it is.

His fingers slide along the outside of me, grazing my clit and diving back down to dip inside me. My whole body comes alive at that touch, and I shudder as his keep moving. Outside and inside and around. He's using my own body against me, my own slickness making it easier for him to tease me.

His other hand comes behind my neck and he pulls me in and kisses me hard, demanding more from me with his lips. Sweeping his tongue across my lips, tells me to open for him, and I do. He possesses my mouth, and it's so much better than I imagined.

He pulls me back, and I'm more than a little breathless. There's no trace of the playful teasing of reading my stories. Now he's radiating raw power. "Alyssa. You can choose now—I stop and we pretend this never happened, or we keep going and you surrender to me."

I think I've stopped breathing. To have it laid out like that, so simply, it makes me wetter. I know he feels it too. I should say no. This is not something people do. But I think of every night I've had since I've started, imagining him doing exactly this, letting him do what he wants with me. I'm staring at him, and I realize this may be my only chance to know what this feels like, to have a fantasy. This could be real.

His hand tightens ever sol slightly on my neck, bringing me back to the moment. "Tell me what you want." His voice is as rich as ever.

I feel my face get hot, and I know I'm not going to be able to say it, not loudly at least. I lean forward, close to his ear, and I close my eyes. "Command me, Sir."

His fingers spasm inside me, and when I look back at him eyes are filled with fire. His hand moves from my neck and into my hair and grips it, making sure I can't look away, can't move my gaze anywhere from his face. I shiver, and I feel my skin react with goosebumps, nipples hardening beneath my dress. "You will do everything I say when you are in this office with me. Do you understand?" He strokes his thumb across my clit, making my back arch.

"Yes, Sir."

"First things first," He says with a small smile, "Lock the door."

He releases me, and I glance backwards. To my shock, the door is still open. Not all the way, but still. Anyone could have seen, could have heard. He flexes his fingers inside me, and I look back at him. "Go. Now." He says.

I do. I lock the door, and he makes sure all the blinds are closed. Then he returns to the couch and looks at me. He looks so at ease, and I'm glad because I am so not at ease. I'm terrified and exhilarated and aroused.

"Show me your breasts." He says it so plainly, so matter of fact, it sends another surge of desire through me. My dress today is a wrap dress, and I pull it down so that each of my breasts are exposed, the nude lacy bra not doing much to hide anything. "Come stand in front of me."

I do.

He pulls the string tying my dress closed, and it falls open. His eyes move up and down, taking in every bit of my body. A slow, lazy smile follows and I feel my entire body heat. "I quite like you sitting on top of me. Take off your underwear and sit here again."

I take them off, folding them and putting them on his desk. He's waiting for me, and I look at him, waiting for him to say this is all a joke. He's not serious.

He doesn't.

I straddle his lap, he guides my hips so I'm flush against his. I can feel his cock straining though his pants, pressing against me. From the feel alone I can already tell it's enough to promise pleasure for days.

Charles puts his hands in my hair again and takes a kiss before tilting my head back and kissing my throat, moving his way down to my breasts. He doesn't bother moving my bra, sucking my left nipple into his mouth through the sheer fabric. A groan escapes me and I rock my hips against him.

"Not yet," He says, "That will come later. I can't wait to have my way with you." I shudder at the implication of everything he can do to me.

His mouth moves over my nipple again, and his hand is at my entrance again, fingers teasing. He slides two fingers in deep. "Ride my hand." He says, and I don't hesitate. I roll hips against his hand, lifting up and falling. I grab the back of the couch and follow his instructions: I ride his fingers in a way that would make any cowboy proud. I'm approaching the top, every roll of hips bringing me closer. My eyes are closed, and I feel his hand tighten in my hair.

Suddenly his fingers are gone and I falter. I open my eyes to find him watching me. His face is serious, but his eyes are playful, like he's amused that I thought he would let me come so easily. Gripping my hips, he flips me over onto the couch so I'm leaning back against it, and he's above me. I'm overwhelmed by the sight of him above me. It's exactly how I thought it would be.

He takes both of my wrists in one hand and moves them above my head, touching them to the wall. His other hand is at my pussy, filling it again with his fingers, moving with purpose. He adds a third finger, and then a fourth, and I feel so full, so aroused, I know it won't take me long.

Every stroke touches all of me and a brightness gathers in deep inside me. I can feel it closing in. Then he moves faster, and I feel his thumb roll across my clit, and I break. My hips spasm as he continues to fuck me with his hand. I bite my lips to keep quiet as the orgasm rolls over me and I go deaf and blind.

I feel his fingers leave me, and I feel his hand guide mine down from against the wall. I take deep breaths, but my heart is still pounding. Wow.

I hear a zipper, and I open my eyes to see. I've been waiting for this moment. I am not disappointed. His erection is full and long and straight. I think about wrapping my hands around it, knowing it would take both to full circle him.

He's watching me again, and even though the power is still there, there's a mischievous smile on his face. "My turn."

T
he sight of Alyssa spread out in front of me, dazed from her orgasm, is nearly enough to make me come. The hungry look in her eyes when she saw my cock is definitely more than enough. Having her under my control is like a fire has been lit inside. I want every part of her to surrender to me, and that part of me that is purely male is roaring in satisfaction that she said yes. "Alyssa."