“Of course it was,” I say. Then, without thinking about it, I ask, “How do you feel about it?” I take another sip, realizing that I shouldn’t care what my assistant thinks about these kinds of things either.
“I like it,” she says. “I’m an iced latte girl. It’s nice.”
“How so?” I ask, and Annelise gives a half shrug.
“It’s richer. It has a nice creamy mouthfeel,” she answers, and my eyes flash up to hers. There are a lot of things I can handle in my job, but hearing Annelise say the wordscreamyandmouthfeelin the same sentence is not one of them.
I walk around my desk and over to the door, closing it and turning the lock. Annelise’s eyes widen, and she looks a little on edge.
“Locket,” I say, and she touches the necklace on her collarbones.
“Sir?” she asks.
“The safe word,” I tell her. “It was in the benefits clause you signed that there would be a safe word.”
I step in front of her, and her breath quickens, making the room steam up each time we exhale, and the tension becomes palpable.
“I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her. “Within reason, of course. You agreed to theall-inclusivepart of our contract, which implies that some things are expected. But I will never take advantage of you. That said, if anything I am doing is ever making you feel uncomfortable…if anything is…” I run my fingertips along her collarbone, touching the necklace as I do, “...unwanted…the word is locket.”
“Thank you, sir, but I can read and I understand the contract just fine,” she tells me with her pretty little chin held high. But I didn’t lock the door and put my phone on vibrate for nothing. Her saucy attitude is in full force this morning, and all the aforementioned frustration is building up in me with enough force to explode on a volcanic level.
“Damien,” I tell her. Then my eyes rake over the dress, and I debate whether I care about how much I paid for it and if it would be worth ripping it to shreds. “What are you wearing under that?” I ask.
“Lingerie,” she says. “That you bought.”
“What color is it?” I ask as my eyes continue to strive for X-ray vision. I can imagine the most likely lace panties and bra that she’s got on under that shiny material. But right now, imagining isn’t enough.
“Red,” she answers, and my jaw unhinges.
“Red,” I repeat. “That doesn’t really go with turquoise.”
“I wasn’t planning on a fashion show,” she answers spicily but I’m not in the mood. Well, I’m in the mood, but not the kind where I put up with her being a brat.
“Show me,” I demand. And despite my former clause about safe words, I’m not asking.
“Sir?” she asks.
“Damien.”
“Damien,” she repeats. “You want me to lift up my dress?”
“I want you to take it off.”
I’m not asking. And judging by the way her throat tightens and loosens again and the way her eyes flutter in a blink to regain composure, this little minx knows exactly how serious I am. With her eyes locked on me, brimming with prowess, she reaches behind herself and tugs at the zipper. As it slides down her back, my dick hardens.
She reaches up and pulls each strap from her shoulders, exposing them completely. The bra is strapless, and I rack my brain to remember which one it might be. On the day we went shopping, I was in a very one-of-everything mood, simply needing the woman who walks in step with me around the corridors of my empire to look just so. And let me tell you, she does. She absolutely fucking does.
She peels the material from her torso, exposing one exquisite inch of her powder-soft skin at a time, and with the smallest shimmy of her hips, the dress rounds her curves and falls to the floor. And with her eyes still fucking mine, Annelise steps out of it, standing in front of me in nothing but her heels, panties, and a bra that showcases her tits impeccably.
I approach her, taking two precise steps that close the space between us as I do. Then, I lift my hand and run my fingers along her cheek, brushing the tips down her jawline and her neck. Her lip’s part, and she emits a small, hot, sweet breath. Never have I wanted to devour a neck so much in my life.
But I don’t.
Instead, I lean in just enough to whisper against her hair.
“Wear that tonight,” I tell her, and Annelise’s attention snaps up to me.
“Tonight?” she asks.
