"Pushing lettuce about your plate does not count as eating, so talk."
She grimaced, but said, "I knew what you were going to do, and the longer I stayed here, the more I felt like a prisoner awaiting execution until I had to leave."
"What did you plan to do?" he asked, taking another bite of his sole.
"I was going to call a taxi, but then I realized I didn't know where I was, so I decided to go outside and see if I could find a bus."
"Did you even consider calling Paul?"
"No, sir."
"Why not?"
"Because Paul works for you, not me."
"Ah. And, you didn't want to involve yourself further with anything that had to do with me." When she didn't deny it, he put down his knife and fork and took a sip of his wine, so she did the same.
Leaning back in his chair, he regarded her steadily for a moment as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. That was okay; she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, either.
"Do you wish to continue working for me?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Yes, sir," she replied in a near whisper.
He leaned forward, his dark eyes regarding her intently. "What you did tonight is inexcusable. If you run from me like that ever again, I will relocate you."
"Yes, sir." She stared down at her hands, afraid she'd cry if she met his gaze.
"Good. Just so we understand each other. Next, the spanking I gave you earlier wipes the slate clean between us regarding the rules you've broken, but it doesn't address the problem."
She risked a glance at him. His expression was serious, but calm.
"Meaning I'm the problem."
"No. That isn't what I meant at all." He pushed away from the table.
Uh, oh.
"Come here."
"I know I'm not supposed to put myself down, but—"
"I won't ask again, Pam. Come here."
With a sigh, she slid her chair back and walked over to him.
He extended a hand, and drew her across his lap again, but held her in place with a hand at the small of her back and didn't lower her panties. The position was embarrassing, but not uncomfortable.
"You can't be thinking every time there's a problem that it's your fault. New rule: whenever you do that, I'm going to spank you. No second chances, no reprieves. I don't care if I've just tanned your hide a few seconds ago. You will go back over my knee for another round. And, each time, you'll be getting one more swat than your previous visit."
"Then you might as well keep me here and never let me up," she quipped. "Ow!"
"Two. This time you will count."
She grimaced at the order, because it meant whenever she called out a number, she was placing a request for the next one in line.
When he lowered her panties, she groaned with an automatic tightening of her muscles.
The hand resting on her still-warm hindquarters felt cool in comparison. "What did you do to warrant this punishment?"
"I admitted I was the problem, sir."
"And are you the problem?"
She hesitated, knowing it would probably earn her another smack, but lying was worse. "I still think I am, sir."
"Why?"
"Because I…. You deserve better, sir."
"Not an answer, Pam. Try again. Why do you think you're a problem that needs fixing?"
"Isn't that what all this is about, sir? Aren't you doing this to fix me?"
"No. I'm trying to help you become the best person you can, kitten. I'm not out to remodel or change you into someone else. I happen to like who you are."
"You do?" His admission shocked her enough she tried to see his face, but her position and his firm hand didn't allow her much freedom of movement.
"Yes, of course I do. You are a bright, intelligent woman who complements me in many ways. You work hard—"
She scoffed at that statement then winced, but he held still without moving. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's just that I did absolutely no work for you today, and yesterday I didn't even finish the one project you asked me to do. What's worse, I pulled you away from anything and everything you needed to accomplish."
"Ah. I think I see the source of the problem. You view the time I spend with you as wasted and non-productive. Correct?"
She wanted to say, "Duh," but contented herself with a simple, "Yes, sir."
"Then I need to realign your priorities."
"What do you mean?" she asked, curious about his intent.
"First, let's get this punishment over." And his hand descended hard enough for her to cry out.
"Ow! I'm sorry. I'll try better. I promise."
"Whoa! This isn't about trying anything, Pam. This is about changing your perception of yourself. You are not a loser. You may be a lovely woman going about with a sore butt for a while, but you are not a failure or a waste of time. Now count, please."
"But if I count, you'll give me another swat, and I still hurt from the first one."
"The lady is a quick learner, but I am patient."
"This is an awkward way to be carrying on a conversation, sir."
"Not for me."
"Yeah. I'm beginning to realize that." She placed the tips of her fingers on the floor and tried to shift her position slightly, but he didn't give an inch. "My stomach hurts."
"Count twice, and I'll let you up."
"One."
The second swat came down even harder.
"Oww! Two."
"Good girl," he praised, lifting her and pulling her back onto his lap.
His previously soft trousers prickled her backside like a field of tiny pins. "Ouch." She squirmed to find a position that wasn't quite so painful. "That hurts, too."
"Would you prefer the wooden chair?"
"No, sir," she mumbled, inching a little to the side as she rested against him. She liked being held by him and found his gentle rubbing soothing and reassuring. She stretched her legs out to discover her panties twisted around her ankles. She should be mortified, but she wasn't. Though her mind felt a little disconnected from her body.
"My stepfather used to take his belt to me," she admitted conversationally, as if they spoke of a movie she'd recently seen.
His arms tightened about her in a protective hold. "I noticed a myriad number of fine white lines crisscrossing your back and thighs and wondered what caused them. Did he put them there?
She nodded against his chest. "It was always my fault. I angered him."
He pressed a kiss to her hair. "I doubt any of those beatings were your fault, kitten. What reasons did he give for hitting you?"
"He usually didn't give a reason. I could be quietly reading and he'd haul me up, toss me stomach down onto the bed, and start whaling on me. If I attempted to escape, he'd tie my hands and feet so I couldn't move. I hated him. He beat my mother, too, but used his fists on her, which was why I murdered him. I wanted him dead before he killed us."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve when he started. Sixteen when I finished." He didn't say anything for a moment. He'd already admitted knowing about her prison record, so he probably understood more about what happened to her than she did. He was simply encouraging her to open up to him.
"Because of what he did, how he whipped me, I can't stand the thought of being physically restrained or punished."
"That makes sense."
She pulled back to look at him for a second. "It isn't you I ran away from; it's waiting for a punishment I know I can't escape. I panicked."
He continued to stroke her hair but didn't try to interject.
"I don't know if I can do what you want."
"Okay, let's talk about that. What do you think I want?"
"My obedience. You want me to submit to you in all things, including any punishments you think I deserve. Isn't that what a submissive is?"
He frowned. "Not exactly. A submissive is an individual who answers to and obeys one or more dominants."
"Oh. There can be more than o
ne? Is a submissive shared?"
"Depends on the relationship. If you are asking whether I intend to share you, the answer is an unequivocal no. I don't share."
Relief escaped her in a breath. She didn't like the thought of being shared or having any dominant take her to task except him.
"But, I am more concerned you think I expect total, mindless subservience from you. Why do you think I'm seeking a disciplinary relationship with you?"
"Because it's in your nature to take control. So, is that what I am? A submissive?"
"You are definitely a submissive, but the term doesn't define you as an individual. However, you're trying to scoot around my question. Do you think I am looking for ways to punish you?"
She put her head back against his chest. "No. I give you enough reasons. You don't have to go looking for them."
"Do you want to go for three?" he asked dryly.
"No, sir."
"Since you associate negative feelings with corporal punishment, I'm going to limit your time spent over my knee to only serious rule breaking. Like lying and putting yourself down."
"What about obedience to your rules and commands?"
"That will depend on the infraction. I'm considering giving you more corner time or making you sit beside my desk, on the floor. I'm also going to insist you keep a journal where I'll expect you to put down every rule you break during the day, and we'll go through it in the evening, after work. Less pain, more thinking, but only constructive thinking. Slip into the mindset you went into earlier today and tonight, and I will spank you."
She drew back and stared at him. "Why bother, and no, I don't want to go for three or four, but I want to know what you see in me that is worth all your time and effort."
"I see a great deal in you. More than I'm ready to admit, but trust me; you are worth every minute I spend with you, and more. Would you like dessert?"
Pam chuckled at his non sequitur. She hadn't even finished dinner. "No. Thank you, sir."
"You're sure?" he asked, holding her face between his two warm hands.
Her throat tight, she attempted to swallow. When had the room become so hot, and why was she suddenly having trouble breathing? Was he going to kiss her? "Dessert can be fattening," she quipped, trying to keep her tone light, despite her intimate position on his lap, while her attention remained fixed on the small indentation above his top lip. "Besides, I shouldn't be allowed dessert if I didn't clean my dinner plate."
"Exceptions can always be made." His voice possessed a huskiness that slipped beneath her defenses and centered between her legs, while his thumbs casually stroked her cheeks in a circular cadence that matched her heartbeat.
"And am I considered an exception, sir?"
"Kitten, you are the epitome of an exception for me." His mouth eased a fraction closer until the lingering aromas of lemon and crisp, white wine teased at her senses, making her hunger for a taste. Parting her lips, she drew in a ragged breath.
"As you are for me, too, sir," she whispered before his tongue caressed the rim of her mouth as though he sought permission to enter. Unable to suppress a moan, she wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed more fully against him to deepen their kiss.
His tongue claimed her with a thoroughness that left her throbbing with need as heated desire swept through her.
Releasing her face, he placed one arm behind her back to hold her more securely then slipped his other hand beneath her blouse to stroke her bare stomach. When she arched into the caress, he abruptly drew back to regard her through dark, intense eyes.
Though no words were spoken, she understood the silent query in his gaze. Was she sure? Earlier today, she could have listed countless reasons why having an affair with her boss was a bad idea. At the moment, however, none came to mind. She wanted this man more than she could say.
Her expression must have answered his question because he lifted her from the cradle of his thighs and carried her over to the couch where he tenderly laid her down on the velvety-smooth fabric. Normally, she would have luxuriated in the plush pile, but the prickling of her still-smarting backside produced a swift protest from her lips as she flipped on her side to face him while he lay down beside her.
His immediate frown of concern quickly morphed into a knowing smile while his hands sought the area they'd punished so soundly less than an hour before. Though his palms were far from rough, the light caress brought a small whimper from Pam. "Shh," he soothed, continuing to stroke the sensitive flesh until his massage created a different sort of tingling. "Better?" His query was accompanied by the slide of his hand sloping up the line of her back.
"Yes," she whispered, her lips almost touching his. His warm, long fingers built such a deep longing within her, she pressed her pelvis forward.
Offering a murmur of approval, he gave a return thrust that wrung a moan of passion from Pam's throat. Though her panties had ended up somewhere on the floor, he remained fully dressed as he teased her into a wantonness that was both new and exhilarating for her.
"Good. I want nothing to interfere with your pleasure tonight." His sinful fingers slid beneath her blouse to her bra, so they could remove the barrier and caress her breasts as his mouth recaptured hers in a kiss that drew a sigh of need from deep inside her. He pulled back, his face mere inches from hers. "Open yourself to me, kitten. Raise your leg so it rests on my hip."
Although her breath caught in her throat, Pam did as he commanded. A small tremor of uncertainty wrapped in a blanket of desire journeyed through her when his fingers slipped between her thighs. Moments later, a delicious friction started to build when a rough pad began courting her tender flesh with a suitor's persistence. Her hips jerked as she sought to get closer to the source of delight. Gripping his shoulders, Pam strained to reach the pinnacle of pleasure his touch guided her toward. Then, with an indrawn gasp, she trembled with the force of her climax as her body burst into a symphony of sensation.
"I think it's time, Miss Weston," he murmured, once he broke off the kiss.
"To leave?"
"No, although it's probably time for me to take you home, too. I think it's time you started calling me Rob. I've a feeling our relationship is only going to get more intense from here on."
She blushed.
Good lord, that's what brought a blush to her cheeks? Not the bare butt spankings or bending over his knee? Just his request that she call him by his first name?
"I think I'd like that, too.… Rob."
"Good." Helping her rise, Rob handed Pam her panties and skirt as he pocketed her ruined hose.
When she was presentable, he requested Walter wrap up the remainder of her dinner to go, saying she could have it for lunch. Paul drove them back to her place, where Rob saw Pam to her door and kissed her good night, but declined to come in when she asked.
"I don't think that's wise, kitten. I'll see you tomorrow. Be good."
She didn't think she'd have much choice to be anything else, but she promised she would. He waited, insisting she closed and locked her door while he remained to ensure she was safe. Once she complied, his firm footsteps sounded in the hall, and Pam leaned against the door with a sigh. She barely knew the man, and yet she was already in so deep, she doubted her feet would ever touch solid land again.
CHAPTER TEN
Pam arrived at 8:00 a.m. to find the executive floor buzzing with several frantic-sounding calls going on at once. Dropping her purse on her desk, she walked directly into Mr. Peterson's office. He was on the phone and pacing while Krista sat and took notes.
The moment Rob spotted Pam, he waved her in but didn't pause in his conversation. Krista rose, grabbed Pam's arm, and took her a few feet away so their talking wouldn't disturb Rob.
"The Hemley deal blew up. Mr. Peterson needs to fly out to Chicago this afternoon. The whole office is upset about it."
"I can tell," Pam whispered back. "I should make his travel arrangements."
"No. Don't bother. He gave me all the information;
I just need to get to my desk, so I can take care of it for him." She handed Pam her pad. "Can you take notes while I'm out? Jot down anything he says that we may want to document later. I think it's finally settled down, now that Rob agreed to go out there, and I don't expect anything drastic to crop up, but I'd feel better if you were here listening."
"Sure. No problem, except booking his flight and hotel should be my job, Krista."
Krista merely patted her arm. "We're a team, Pam. We share responsibilities. It's what we do." At that, she rushed out, so Pam sat where Krista had been and listened.
"Yes, John. I understand. Like I said earlier, I'm flying out there this afternoon, so try to hold it together until we can talk face-to-face, all right?"
He walked around his desk and gave Pam's shoulder a squeeze as he mouthed, "Sorry."
She shrugged, looking around at the strewn paper cups in the normally immaculate office, but no sign of food. He clearly didn't take care of himself the way he took care of her. When she rose, she saw his inquiring expression and motioned she was getting her phone. He started to object then nodded, so she went out to her desk and ordered breakfast.
Five minutes later, she was sitting in Rob's office, listening to him speak to someone else about his travel arrangements, while he checked his computer. He rattled off his flight details, which Krista had booked for him.
Pam was taking note of the flights and times when the cafeteria workers came in to clear out the used coffee cups and laid out a brunch. Rob frowned at Pam, but she merely gave him a sweet smile. From the raised eyebrow he gave her in return, she suspected he'd figured out exactly what she was doing and why. He mouthed, "Thank you."
Quickly ending his call, he came over to sit beside her and grasped her hand. "You okay?"
Smiling, she gave her shoulders an unconcerned lift. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"This is lousy timing. I wouldn't even consider leaving, except—"
"Rob, I'm fine. You can't keep babysitting me. This is your job. This is what you are supposed to be doing."
He squeezed her fingers. "I realize that, but I also understand this is a critical time for us, and I don't like separating from you so soon."
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