I’d been wary of pushing things this far with Jake. The pause while I waited for him to respond to my spanking suggestion felt as though it went on forever, and I worried I’d crossed a line. But then he jumped on the idea, and something inside me relaxed and my anxiety turned to anticipation. I’d barely been able to concentrate on the cabinet finishes for Mrs. Meyer.
I’d never had anyone spank me before—not beyond a playful swat on the butt. I didn’t think I’d hate it. If the way my body felt was any indication, I was pretty sure I’d love it. But if I didn’t, I could tell Jake to stop, and I knew he would. It was one of the great parts about trying things with him. There was no judgment, just playful exploration. If it didn’t work, we didn’t do it—the whipped cream and chocolate syrup we’d tried had been messy fun for one time but so sticky, it wasn’t worth repeating. If something worked for both of us, we could do it more often andtest the boundaries, like maybe that ruler he’d mentioned. But first he had to open the damn door. I shifted my weight back and forth on my skyscraper-high heels.
He opened the door—finally—and the breath caught in my throat. I’m not sure I’d ever seen Jake wearing anything other than a variation on cargo shorts and a T-shirt. He rarely wore shoes and when he did, they were beat-up loafers with no socks. I swear his wardrobe hadn’t changed since college. I was pretty sure most of the T-shirts were at least that old.
The man standing in front of me didn’t look like the same person.
He wore actual pants with a belt and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. My gaze roamed over polished cotton stretched over his broad shoulders, trying to reconcile this man with the casual to the point of sloppy guy I was used to answering the door. Then my gaze met his and it was us again—playful and familiar—just for a moment before his forehead creased and a pair of lines formed in the space between his eyebrows.
“You’re late,” he said.
I wasn’t, but I loved the reprimand in his tone.
“I hope this kind of carelessness doesn’t carry over to the rest of your work.”
I stood frozen, stunned into place by how easily he’d slipped into character. My brain was too busy reordering the pieces and assumptions I’d made about Jake to realize he was waiting for me to enter.
“Come on. We don’t have all day.”
He motioned me inside, and I made my legs move, careful not to stumble on the heels that seemed to have magically grown higher.
I followed him down the hall to his office. A huge desk faced the wall of windows looking out over the Central BusinessDistrict. Three enormous monitors took up a significant portion of its surface. His chair was Herman Miller—I knew because I’d picked it out for him when he mentioned his back bothered him after he’d fucked me against the wall. He said sitting at the computer aggravated it, so I’d had the chair delivered for him. But this was the first time I’d actually seen the inside of his office.
I stood there, tottering on my heels, panty-less and so wet it was embarrassing, and realized that despite knowing him for months and having his hands and mouth on every inch of my body, I had no idea what the man did for a living. Beyond working on computers and having enough money to pay for whatever he wanted. I wanted to know—to understand more about him—but not until after.
“I need you to take dictation. You can do that, can’t you?”
I couldn’t and everyone, including him, had an app on their phone that could.Not the point, Elena.
I looked up at him. Even in heels, he was taller than me. “I didn’t bring anything to write with.”
That was shortsighted, considering I’d set up the scenario based on dropping my pen. The picture I’d created in my head had me holding a pen and tablet of some sort. The promise of a spanking had apparently short-circuited my normal tendency to over plan.
“Honestly,” he said with a sternness that did delicious things to my body.
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pen and legal pad, shoving them carelessly in my direction. I took them both, fumbling the pen, not entirely on purpose, and watched as it slipped from my fingers and hit the floor. When I glanced up to meet his gaze, his expression hadn’t changed, but there was something in the crinkles beside his eyes and the way hewatched me—as if he were trying to work his way through a puzzle—that felt familiar. Safe.
“I’m sorry.” I sounded breathless, which didn’t require any playacting on my part. “I’ll get it.”
I turned so my back was to him, locked my knees and bent at the waist. The position gave him an unobstructed view of my aching sex, and his answering groan sounded primitive, almost feral, in contrast to the polished character he played.
“No panties.” He growled the words through clenched teeth.
Resting the fingertips of one hand on the floor to steady myself, I looked back over my shoulder at him.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t have time…”
The words died on my lips as he slid his fingers through my slick folds, grazing my clit almost carelessly before plunging two fingers inside me.
I sucked in a breath, back arched, and rocked back into his touch, not thinking about anything but more.
He gripped my hip with one hand and pulled his fingers free from my body, holding them in front of his face for a moment before sliding them into his mouth.
I stood. It was either that or fall over. Watching him lick my taste from his fingers was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen.
“You are not dressed appropriately for work. Everything about this is against our dress code.” He traced his fingers carelessly in the air in front of my body. “I think you’ve done it on purpose just to tease me, waving your wet pussy in my face. I should fire you.”
I didn’t have to pretend to tremble at his words. It was with anticipation, not fear, but it all felt very real to my body. “Please, sir. I need my job. I’ll do anything you want.”
