Now Emily is staring at me, grappling with my inappropriate declaration.
It wouldn’t matter; I still want to fuck you.
I can’t take my words back, and don’t know if I want to.
“You...I’m confused.”She finally gets out.
So am I.She’s not my type, and I have no idea why I want to make her my personal little sex slave instead of my assistant.
It can be both.
No.It.Can’t.
She’s too young, and I need her to do her job.While I focus on the Crown Plaza development, instead of her cleavage.And yet, when I’m not looking at it, I’m thinking about it.
I can’t fuck her.
I can’t ignore our chemistry.
And I don’t want to fire her.
So, I need to find her another position.Maybe then I can finally fuck her.However, another idea is percolating that is absolutely crazy.One I should shut down immediately, and yet I already know I won’t.
Not at all.
“Your outfit is fine, Emily.”I rasp, staring at her lips, needing to taste her like a fucking heroin addict.
My body thrums as my cock lengthens inside my Tom Ford pants, and I wonder if she’ll notice and offer to help me out with it.
No, you do not.
“But you want me—”
“I said I want to fuck you.That doesn’t mean I will.”I correct, annoyed with the both of us.
“Sebastian,” Emily snaps, surprising me so much that my brows shoot up.“Let me finish.I was going to say you want me to leave.”
No.
I do not want her to fucking leave.That’s half my goddamn problem.The thought of her walking out of this building and never seeing her again...I just can’t.And I’m not explaining it.
I tug on my sleeves, adjusting my cufflinks.“I want you to do your job.That includes,” I reply firmly, wishing her dress necklinewaslower so I could enjoy her cleavage privately.“Accompanying me to a work dinner on Sunday.With the sheikh.”
She startles.
“Oh, ah.Is that in my job description?”
I lean down, the space between us dangerously small, my voice gruff.“Did you see my name on the top of this building?”
Emily nods.
“That means I’m the boss.I write the job descriptions.”
She nods again, and I hate how cute she looks, blushing and barely breathing, affected by the electrical charge between us.
“I can change your job description and if I wanted to”—stop talking—“I would have you on your knees under my desk”—stop fucking talking—“and taking my cock like a good little PA.”
Fuck.
