I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat in panic. “We forgot about the call.”
“I didn’t.” He drags his zipper down and reaches inside. “Get under the desk.”
The authority in his tone and confidence that I’ll obey are exciting and curious. Spending so much of my life moving from place to place has made connecting with people difficult. I didn’t expect to connect over a secret kink with my boss days before the end of my employment contract, but he’s acting like one of myfilthy love interests ripped from the pages of a book. It’s better than any fantasy, making me feel more seen than I’ve felt in a long time.
Tension coils in my neck as I hesitate. I need to be careful. It would be easy to lose myself to the fantasy and pretend that this thing between us is more than sex. Just because my grumpy boss gives me what I want doesn’t mean it’s what either of us needs.
The call continues to ring.
He grips himself, stroking upward in a slow, teasing motion. “Stop being a defiant brat and get under the fucking desk. Now.”
He’s as dominating and sexy as I pictured in my fantasy-fueled self-indulgent nights. Desire builds like an inferno, consuming my hesitation. I drop to the carpet.
My knees sting, but the burn heightens the arousal, spurring me on.
I crawl beneath his desk and sit on my knees. Nerves and anticipation fill my stomach with butterflies. I’m about to see what my grumpy boss’s scowl looks like from my knees.
Holding my breath, I look up.
He touches my cheek, and air rushes out of my lungs in a sudden exhale. He’s watching me, his features tight, but there is a tenderness I hadn’t anticipated behind the scowl. I may be on my knees for him, but I feel powerful and revered.
I blink away the emotion and focus on his thumb as it strokes my bottom lip. I flick my tongue over his thumb and open my mouth wider.
His eyes darken, and he rolls his chair closer to the desk so his erection will be hidden when he answers the call. Aiming the head between my lips, he guides his length into my mouth. He’s hot and spongy on my tongue but thick and silky against my lips when I clamp them tight around his shaft.
He hisses, and his hands grip the sides of my head, holding me still while he tries to calm his breathing.
This is what I am here for, not fickle emotion and connection.
He answers the call.
His tone is calm and professional as he greets his clients, but his hand is restless as he drags it through my hair, grips, pulls my head forward, and guides his cock to the back of my throat.
The scene is surreal. I’m a character out of a book, bruising my knees and selling my professional soul to take my boss’s cock.
It’s so much sweeter and more satisfying than the scenes my imagination conjured.
This is the dominating, demanding boss I’ve fantasized about, using me in his office in secret, his clients and staff oblivious to what is happening.
The naughtiness spurs me on.
I clamp my lips tighter and relax my throat, swallowing as much of his length as I can.
Mr. Carlson’s tongue quickly darts out and wets his bottom lip. It’s the only indication that I’m affecting him. He looks as calm and stoic as usual.
I want to make him come undone, drive him so close to the edge that he can’t stop himself from blowing while his clients listen.
Has he ever done something like this before? A spike of jealousy hits me, imagining another naughty assistant in my place. But then I remember his no-fraternization policy—the one he is currently breaking for me.
Emotion tightens my throat again.
He lets out a grunt and covers it with a cough.
His unexpected reaction makes me smile and clears my thoughts of everything except how good he feels in my mouth.
Mr. Carlson tugs my hair, trying to set a slow, controlled pace. He wants to maintain his composure and not reveal the dirty things he’s doing to me in the privacy of his office.
I want to be a brat and take control.
