Except he’s not Joe right now. He’s Slater. My boss. And he’s angry.
“I know,” I manage, dropping my voice to Ash’s register even though my throat is tight. “I’m sorry. I had some trouble getting here and?—”
“I don’t want excuses.” He takes a step toward me, and suddenly the room feels smaller, the air thicker. “When I set a time, I expect it to be met. You don’t jerk me around or waste my time because you have other priorities. Ash, this isn’t going to work if you can’t show up when you’re supposed to.”
His voice is sharp, dominant in a way that should make me feel defensive or ashamed.
Instead, my body responds in the worst possible way. Heat floods through me, starting in my core and spreading outward like wildfire. My skin prickles with awareness, and between my thighs, despite everything, despite the suppressants and thepatches and the fact that I literally spent all night having the best sex of my life, I feel myself getting wet.
Slick is already gathering, hot and insistent, my body responding to his voice like it’s been programmed to.
No. Not now. Not like this.
I’m trying to stand like a man. Shoulders back. Feet planted. Hands at my sides instead of pressed between my legs where they want to be. But I’m also desperately clenching my thighs together, trying to hide the fact that my body is betraying me spectacularly.
“I understand,” I say, and my voice comes out strained, slightly breathless. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not.” I catch his scent, and attraction slams through me alongside the arousal. “Because if you think I’m going to tolerate this kind of behavior, you’re mistaken. I run a professional operation here, and I need people who take this seriously.”
Every word vibrates through me, settling between my legs, making everything clench.
I hear what he’s actually saying. The reprimand. The warning. The very reasonable expectation that employees show up on time. But underneath, layered over it, my brain supplies what it would sound like if he said those exact words in that other voice. The bedroom voice. The narrator voice. The one that’s kept me up at night, whispering stories that weren’t meant to be dirty but left me soaked anyway. The voice that narrated a hundred fantasies before I ever saw the man behind it. Velvety smooth, steel-laced, carved with power, and layered in heat.
When I set a time, I expect it to be met.
My imagination hijacks the moment, and suddenly I’m somewhere else, no longer in the office, but pinned beneath him on a mattress that smells like his skin, his voice curling aroundme like smoke. His body above mine, hard and hot, his mouth at my ear while his hand slides between my legs.
This isn’t going to work if you can’t show up when you’re supposed to.
His teeth scrape my jaw, his fingers curling possessively around my throat, just enough pressure to make my breath catch. I’m trembling beneath him, legs parted, back arching, offering. Obeying.
You don’t get to jerk me around or waste my time.
He’s inside me in one slow, devastating thrust, and I’m choking on a moan as he starts to move, each stroke a demand.
Because when I give you an order, you obey.
The words that my mind is now making up are a trigger. A shudder rolls through me, deep and liquid, centering right between my legs. My pussy clenches helplessly, slick and aching, and I swear I feel the binder over my chest catch against the hardness of my nipples. I’m soaking through my underwear, and it’s a miracle I haven’t buckled yet.
“Are you even listening to me?” His voice cuts through the fantasy like a whipcrack.
I snap back to reality, blinking hard, my face flushed hot. “Yes. Absolutely. Won’t happen again.”
He’s studying me now, head tilted, those gray eyes narrowing slightly like he’s trying to read something on my skin.
Something’s wrong.
Everything’s wrong.
“Good.” He takes a step closer, and heat rolls off him in waves, his scent surrounding me. “Because I don’t have time for this. We have clients coming, and I need you to be ready. Phone charged, social media accounts loaded, and your head in the game. Can you handle that, Ash?”
“Yes.”
His eyes sharpen. “Yes what?”
That question lands like a gut punch, and my mind blanks. And my brain fills in the rest for me with devastating clarity.
His voice lowering.
