“Right,” Jennifer said. “Of course not. But Priyanka, if you’re not happy with him…”
Priyanka glared up at her with watery eyes. “What? Are you saying I should leave him?” She snorted. “I doubt he’d even notice. But I can’t do that to my boys.”
“Your sons aren’t children anymore. What about you? What about your happiness? Are you… I mean, would you be happier with Richard?” Jennifer felt like a talkshow host. This emotional rubbish fell from her lips awkwardly, clumsily. Priyanka seemed just as uncomfortable hearing it. But it had to be said.
“Well,” she answered slowly. “I do—I mean, I’m not just sleeping with Richard. Well, no, I am. But—“
“But it’s not that simple,” Jennifer finished. “Because if it was, it could be anyone. But it has to be him.”
Priyanka stared. “Yes. That’s—that’s exactly it.”
“Well,” Jennifer shrugged. “I’m no relationship expert. In fact, I’m the exact opposite. But I think the answer is clear.”
“Jennifer,” Pri said, her tone pleading. “I can’t just leave my husband!”
“There are a lot of things you can’t do, Priyanka. You can’t let Lilliana bully you. You can’t quit your job and leave us all to flounder without your brilliance.” She softened her tone. “And you can’t give Richard up. If you could, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all. Think about it. Okay?”
“Alright,” Priyanka said, her voice no more than a whisper. And then, sounding a little more certain: “You’re right. I’ll think about it. Thank you, Jen.”
“Any time, love.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Oliver Hatton is here to see you, Mr Chamberlain.”
Theo pressed the button of his intercom, a savage smile curving his lips. “Perfect. Thanks, Martha. Send him in.”
A moment later, the door opened, and man himself appeared.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?” He asked, his hands folded respectfully before him.
Theo stared at him, and wondered with disgust: if it was a woman sitting behind this desk, demanding Oliver’s presence, would the man be quite so accommodating? Probably not.
“Shut the door,” he said. “And sit.”
Nodding, Oliver did so.
Theo turned back to his computer screen and finished typing an email to the research department about their recent report. He took his time, letting the kid sweat as he tapped away at his keyboard. Then, finally, he cleared his throat and switched his attention to Ollie.
“So,” he said. “Oliver Hatton. You’re a junior executive, aren’t you Ollie?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Part of our creative team.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How long have you been with us, Ollie?”
The kid fiddled uncomfortably with his cuffs, the cocky smirk he’d worn the other day conspicuous by its absence. “A few years now, Sir.”
“And you like it here at Brown Cow? You want to continue to build your career with us?”
“Oh, yes,” he answered eagerly. “One hundred per cent.”
“I see,” Theo murmured silkily. “Well, in that case, Ollie…” He leaned forward. Oliver leaned forward too, the nerves on his face chased away by smug excitement. With relish, Theo went in for the kill. “In that case, I would suggest that you learn to think with your brain, instead of your tic-tac dick. Because if you don’t stop harassing your female colleagues, I will personally string you up by your balls, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
The speed with which Ollie’s expression changed was almost comical. In fact, Theo might have cracked a smirk. The lad looked ready to piss himself.
“M-Mr Chamberlain,” he stammered. “I hope I haven't offended you in any way—“
“I think I’ve made my position clear.”
“B-But… I only mess around with the new girls! They don’t mind. They like it. You know how it is when you have power. I mean, you saw how Jen Johnson was with me the other day—“
“I beg your pardon?” Theo asked politely. “Please explain, Mr Hatton. How exactly was Jennifer Johnson?” A smart man would read the threat laced in Theo’s tone. A smart man would feel the icy chill sweeping over the already-frosty room.
Clearly, Oliver Hatton was not a smart man.
“Well,” he smirked, waggling his pale brows. “You know. Desperate. She’s—“
“Stop,” Theo said. He felt his jaw twitch. His right eye began to throb. “Stop talking. Right now.”
Ollie’s face fell. “But—“
“Shut. Your filthy. Fucking. Mouth.”
“Sir—“
“Your position here is now terminated.”
Ollie shot up out of his chair. “What the fuck?”
“You heard me,” Theo said, his voice low. “Get the fuck out of here before I smash your smug little face in.”
The pathetic kid blanched visibly at the threat, his bravado disappearing all at once. Stuttering his apologies, he practically ran from the room.
And Theo was left behind with nothing but a shit-load of rage and frustration. Cursing under his breath, he stood and paced the room. Considered punching a wall. No; then he’d have to deal with someone in his space while the plaster was repaired.
Opening his door abruptly, he stuck out his head and barked at Martha, “Get Jennifer Johnson up here. Now.”
She blinked, pausing in the middle of sinking her teeth into an apple. “Uhhh… Okay,” she mumbled around the mouthful.
Theo shut his door.
◆◆◆
She rushed in, barely waiting for Martha to announce her over the intercom. It earned her a dirty look from the secretary, but Jen didn’t care.
“Theo,” she panted, coming over to where he sat at the desk. “What’s wrong?”
He looked up as though he hadn’t noticed her entrance. “What’s wrong?” He repeated absently. Then, his voice stronger: “Nothing. Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”
She perched herself on the edge of his desk, blushing as she remembered the last time she’d been here. “So you got your secretary to call me up here? Seriously? You couldn’t have texted me?”
“I’m sorry, Jenny.” He put his hand on her knee, slid it up until he found the place where stockings ended and skin began. She shivered as he traced the sensitive, rippling skin of her inner thigh.
“I thought it was an emergency,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“It was.” He stood up, and the movement brought their bodies close. “I need you.” He pulled her up against him and his mouth hovered tantalisingly over hers. She breathed in, almost tasting him, arousal unfurling within her like a budding rose…
And then, suddenly, he turned her around. Unbalanced, she leaned against the desk, her hands splayed, her arse thrust against his growing erection. She heard the sound of fabric slipping free behind her.
“Let me play with you, Jenny. Can I?” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulled her arm behind her back. She allowed it, and he grabbed her other hand and brought it to join the party.
“I thought… I thought we agreed no more sex at work?”
“We haven’t formalised that agreement yet, though, have we?”
“I suppose not…”
“I want to watch you come across my desk one last time. Can you do that for me, Jenny? One last time. Then I’ll be good.” He pressed his swollen cock against her arse, and she felt her pussy twitch in response. Crap. She had no idea why, but when he was around it suddenly seemed so much better to be bad
“Okay,” she whispered. “Yes.”
“That’s my girl.” Cool silk wrapped its way around her wrists: his tie. He tightened the bonds, forcing her back to arch, her breasts thrust out. “I can do whatever I want with you, can’t I?”
She tried to tug her wrists apart; they didn’t budge.
“Can’t I, Jenny?”
“I don’t know about that,” she said breathlessly. “I haven’t even s
igned that contract yet.”
Suddenly his lips were at her neck, his breath hot, and the thickness between his legs pressed insistently at her arse. “You’re going to sign it before you leave this fucking office. Then you can stop putting bullshit barriers between us.”
“It’s not bullshit—“
“I don’t want to fight, Princess. Keep your pretty mouth shut unless I give you something to put in there. Understand?”
She gasped. Before she could decide which feeling to act on—her fury or her arousal—he slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and cupped her tits roughly. She sighed and leaned back against him, resting her head on his broad shoulder. His tongue slid out to tease her earlobe, and she felt like a storm cloud; swollen, heavy, but floating nonetheless.
“You're so sweet,” he rasped. “Like honey. All mine.” He trailed his hands down the curve of her belly, then lower, to the apex of her thighs. With strong strokes, he rubbed her clit through her skirt, and she moaned. Then he reached down, and once again he was pushing her skirt up, up, up. This was becoming a habit of theirs. She certainly wouldn't complain.
His hands were hot, always so hot, as he smoothed them along her legs, his body following their downward path. He squeezed her flesh, his grip insistent, unforgiving. She imagined her skin turning paler beneath his fingers, leaving bloodless marks for seconds after he removed his hands. Then he tugged the soft cotton of her underwear aside, and she forgot how to think.
The searing heat of his tongue parted her folds, lapping directly at the aching centre of her need. He grasped her arse firmly, parting the plump cheeks as he pushed his face hungrily between her thighs. She leaned forwards, over the desk, and knocked a pile of papers off the edge. Didn’t give a damn.
He lapped at her wetness as though it were nectar, and she moaned softly.
"I'll make you scream, later," he growled against her skin. “I should make you scream now. So everybody knows you’re mine.”
“You can’t,” she gasped out, but she was straining back, her pussy greedy for more of his mouth. She could feel herself leaking for him, coating her own thighs with her arousal. He chuckled darkly and licked her sticky skin clean.
She whimpered as he devoured her, arched into him as though he could get any closer. She needed more, desperately. She wanted him inside her again. The he slid two fingers into her aching entrance, stretching her as he sucked gently on her swollen lips, and she cried out.
“Shhh,” he murmured, and she felt his clothed body slide against hers as he stood. “I know what you want, sweetheart. Come here.” He grabbed her right thigh, pulled her leg up until her knee rested on the desk and she was sprawled against its cool surface, open to him. The air felt cool against her spread pussy, and she blushed at the sensation.
Then his fingers probed her once more, and she forgot to be embarrassed.
“Tell me, Princess. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she moaned. Then he spanked her, his palm light but firm as it swatted her arse. She swallowed a yelp.
“Yes what?” He asked.
“Um…”
He spanked her again, and she whimpered as the sting melted into warm arousal. She thrust her arse back against his hand, shameless. “Yes, Sir!” She gasped.
“Good girl.” He slid his fingers out of her swollen channel and she whimpered at the loss. But after a few seconds, she heard the sound of his zipper opening and the rip of a foiled packet.
Moments later, the blunt head of his cock parted her folds, stiff and insistent. She bit her lip on a moan as Theo’s hands settled on her hips.
“Ahhhh,” he hissed. “So fucking tight. I’m addicted to this pretty little cunt.”
Jen felt her pussy spasming around him. Every ridge and vein along his shaft seemed to glide tantalisingly against her tender flesh, spurring her pleasure higher and higher. He dug his fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded her harder and harder, the desk shaking.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunted. “You’re so fucking perfect, Jen. You’re mine. Do you understand?” He slapped her arse again as he thrust into her wildly.
“Yes,” she cried out, too far gone to care about keeping quiet.
“Tell me.”
“I’m yours,” she moaned. “I’m—oh, my God, Theo!” Her orgasm burst into life like a firework, sending showers of stars across her vision as she moaned. Above her, Theo’s thrusts grew erratic as he gasped her name.
He shuddered, swore, and then his hips stilled. Leaning forward, he pressed soft kisses to the back of her neck as he fumbled with the tie binding her wrists.
His movements gentle, he released her and rubbed her forearms and hands, bringing them back to life. Then he reached down and rearranged her clothes, putting her knickers in place while she blushed, awkward and silent. When he helped her up and straightened her skirt, she gave him a shy smile over her shoulder.
He adjusted his own clothing and then sat down, pulling her into his lap.
“You okay?” He asked.
“Better than okay.” She smiled. “What was that about?”
“I told you.” He kissed her nose. “You’re mine, Princess. Thought I should remind you.”
“Alright, then,” she laughed. “But I should get back to work. God, that was so loud. I bet Martha’s going to report us or something.”
“Report us to who? Me?”
“To HR!”
“Fuck HR. Bunch of fucking busybodies. You can’t go, anyway. We’ve been talking about this bloody contract for days now—“
“Oh, yes, the famous contract.” She clapped her hands together. “Go on, then. Wow me with your legal prowess.”
He reached into one of his desk drawers and produced a few sheets of paper. “Not my legal prowess,” he said. “Keynes’s.”
“The law grad?”
“Yep.” He put the papers down in front of her. “Take a look.”
“Alright.” She scanned the introductory paragraph, which established the parties involved and the clarified the meaning of several terms relevant to the contract. “Jyu Theodore Chamberlain,” she read aloud. “That’s what the J stands for.”
“Yeah. Theodore’s actually my middle name. When I was younger someone convinced me that my name was too ‘foreign’ for me to succeed in advertising.”
She arched a brow. “That sounds like bullshit.”
“Yep. But by the time I figured that out, it was too late.” He shrugged.
“Jyu,” she murmured, testing it on her tongue. “Does it mean anything?”
He mumbled something.
“What was that?” She frowned.
“Handsome,” he muttered. “Means handsome.”
“Ohhhh.” She laughed and patted his cheek. “Well, that’s rather appropriate, isn’t it?”
He rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“Will you hurry up and sign the contract so I can fuck you without guilt?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” She turned back to the documents and continued reading.
Jennifer didn’t know much about law, but she found it hard to believe that this thing would stand up in court. It really was a kind of guarantee for her, which was nice. But it stated all kinds of things that would happen if their relationship were to end under various circumstances. They got more and more unrealistic as the contract went on.
“So,” she frowned, doing her best to translate the legal vernacular. “You’re basically giving me all the evidence I’d need to sue you under all these different circumstances?”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do to guarantee you’d win. But, like I said, I thought you needed some of the power.”
“And…” She blinked in shock. “Did you really have to add in this part about pregnancy?”
“What? Pregnancy happens.”
“Yeah, but… Well. I don’t think it’s something we should put into a contract!” She spluttered.
“I know what you mean. But I just thought—“
“Aren’t you scared I’m going to trap you or something? Poke holes in all your condoms?”
He frowned, his confusion clear. “Why would I think that?”
“Because it says here that carrying your child automatically entitles me to half of your shares in the company. And…” She read on. “And that I’ll be paid a monthly maintenance of—“
“Oh, we should change that part. He wrote that back when this first started.”
“Uh… So what would you change it to?”
He shrugged. “Well, if you got pregnant, I’d marry you. So you wouldn’t need maintenance.”
Her jaw dropped. “You did not just say that.”
“What?”
Her mouth worked soundlessly as she struggled to articulate the hurricane of emotions he’d just whipped up. “You—you—you can’t just say you’d marry me!”
“Why not?”
“Well… What if I don’t want to marry you?!”
“Why wouldn’t you want to marry me?” He asked, his eyes sparkling. “I have it on great authority that I’m a catch.”
“Oh, shut up!” She scrambled out of his lap and waved the contract around, his irreverence tipping her over the edge. “This is ridiculous! You can’t put this kind of thing in a contract!”
“Well what else am I supposed to do? I want you to feel secure! I want you to stop worrying!”
“This isn’t going to make me stop worrying!” She cried.
“Well then what the fuck can I do? I’ll do whatever you want! Just tell me! I already got rid of that fucking prick who was bothering you—“
The blood drained out of Jen’s face. “What did you just say?”
“Uh…”
“What prick?” She gritted out. “Who?”
He sighed. “Oliver Hatton. It was him, wasn’t it? Johnny Bravo?”
“What do you mean you got rid of him?”
Theo set his jaw defiantly. “I sacked him. He was a fucking creep.”
“Really,” she hissed, waving the contract in his face. “You don’t see the irony?”
“Oh, Jen, come on—“
“How dare you?” She demanded. “I told you to leave it. Why would you do that?”
Bad for the Boss_A BWAM Office Romance Page 14
