"Little deer," he purrs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that sends shivers racing across my skin, "if you continue to question me, I will have you over this table again with my cock so deep in your young pussy and for so long, you'll forget his name. Forever. And you’ll never need it again.” A chill races down my spine as he straightens his cuffs. "Now go get ready. You don’t want to miss our shopping trip."
"Please, Sir," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "He's my best friend."
The muscles in his jaw tighten visibly, punching outwards beneath firm tanned skin. "You're not helping his situation, little deer. Do you trust me?"
"Yes.”
"Then get ready."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
clay
Bolton entersmy office with military precision. All-black suit. Earpiece. Sidearm holstered at his hip. The uniform of her protector. Of her bodyguard.
But he is more than that…
Isn’t he?
Her friend and confidant.
Such a powerful position he has stepped into without asking my permission first. Today, I see beyond the employee to the man beneath—the man who stands guard while my little deer frolics, who catches the sweet tones of her laughter day after day. Perhaps, more than me.
"You requested me, Boss." Bolton comes to a stop before my desk.
I stand, leaning against the edge, mere metres from the black boardroom table I had my little deer grinding against, had her sweaty palms pawing helplessly at as I finger-fucked her tight, wet pussy less than five minutes ago.
I remain calm.
Casual.
Easy.
Anything but.
My gaze hits him hard, a heavy press of scrutiny from his six-foot solid build, to his mid-forties face that is neither striking nor repellent. "My little deer seems quite attached to you," I observe, my gaze boring into him.
A slight tension ripples through his stance, his professional façade only thinning when his throat rolls. "I care for her,” he confirms, but there is more to it.
"Elaborate."
"As an individual, Boss."
"Careful," I warn, fingers digging into the desk edge until the wood strains. "Do you love her?"
He doesn’t hesitate, answering, "Yes, Boss. I do."
"What manner of love? Be honest with me, Bolton.” My voice drops to a deep whisper. “Do you imagine what she might feel like inside?"
He frowns. "No, Boss."
“Are you afraid of me?”
“I’d be stupid not to be.”
Clever.
A smile slides across my lips. “And you’re not stupid, but you’re not afraid enough to keep your decorum?”
