Mr. CEO

by Willow Winters

  I sit easily in my chair as she stands defensively across the desk.

  “Today I wanted you to play my secretary. I dreamed of fucking you on my desk.” I put my hand out in front of me. “Right here,” I say as I pat the desk and maintain eye contact with her. “It’s a fantasy I’ve had before, but I’ve never fulfilled.”

  She scoffs at me. “I don’t believe that for one second.” Her defenses go up and her eyes light with a passion to prove me wrong. It pisses me off. I’m not a liar, and I’ve never given her any reason to think I would lie.

  Before this day is over, I want her on her knees, begging me to forgive her and choking on my cock.

  “I’ve never and I never will lie to you,” I say with a lowered voice.

  She stays mute, refusing to believe me but not offering me a rebuttal.

  “I thought you enjoyed me fucking you.” Her small hands ball into fists. “It certainly seemed that way when you were screaming my name.”

  “Fuck you.” She practically hisses.

  “Yes, please do,” I say back to her with a small smile.

  It’s quiet for a moment, the two of us at odds. Pointless really, we both want each other. She just needs to let go and give in. I can give her pleasure while she fulfills my needs.

  “This isn’t a game to me,” she finally says. She’s not angry though, which is what I expected. She sounds sincere, and genuinely upset. “This is my life.”

  I grind my teeth, hating that I’m unsure of what to do. I want her. And I’ll have her. But not yet. She needs something from me before she’s going to give in. It’s a challenge that I readily accept.

  I clear my throat and sit up straight in my seat. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

  She stares at me in an attempt to calm herself down. I want to walk over and pull her into my embrace, to soothe her worries and tell her everything is going to be alright. But right now she’s hostile. It would only make matters worse.

  “I’ll see you in forty minutes then, Miss Harrison.” She nods quickly and turns on her heels.

  “Rose,” I call out her name and she stops with her hand on the doorknob, but she doesn’t turn around. “My door is always open for you. If you decide you need anything.” I hear her take in a deep breath. I’m not sure, but I think she may be crying. It fucking shreds me. “There’s a bathroom to your right, if you need it before leaving my office.”

  She shakes her head and mutters, “I’m fine.”

  But she’s not fine, she’s so far from it.

  Chapter 17

  Charlotte

  God, he’s driving me insane.

  I walk into the bathroom around the corner from Logan’s office and grab a handful of toilet paper from the first stall to blow my nose, feeling a cauldron of emotions bubbling inside. Anger, shock, lust and sadness. I don’t know what to make of Logan. At first I thought he made me the head sales rep just to humiliate me. Now I’m having doubts.

  What’s worse is that I want to take back these last few days and play along with his game. I just want him to take me and fuck me like his office slut. How fucked up is that?

  I feel ashamed thinking this way, but when he started talking dirty to me in his office, it was all I could do to hold my ground. I wanted to give into him right then and there, get on my knees and let the image he described come to life.

  This is wrong. I shouldn’t be entertaining these feelings. I’m so confused by what’s happened. But some things are very clear. Logan is my boss now. A relationship between us would be inappropriate.

  I wrap my arms around myself, squeezing tight and trying to clear my head.

  Why do I have to resist? No one has to know about our relationship. It could be our little secret. A giddy grin comes over my face at the thought. Don’t I deserve this after what Ian did to me? Why can’t I use Logan for pleasure just like how he wants to use me?

  … 'cause then I’ll feel like a whore.

  “Damn him,” I growl, blowing my nose and throwing the paper towel in the wastebasket. I’m torn and conflicted. I don’t know if I can trust what Logan’s offering, and I don’t know what to do. I sure as hell know what my body wants though. That I can't deny.

  I blow out a deep breath. For right now, I need to get myself cleaned up. I can’t miss this meeting.

  The board meeting is stuffy, and I’m finding it hard to focus while an intern named Harold gives a presentation about a new method of advertising online. I should be paying attention to what he says, but all I can think about is Logan.

  The way he looked at me in his office, with a hunger that was almost palpable and how much he wanted me, is doing crazy things to my body. The way he said, “fucktoy.” The memory sends shivers down my body.

  Unconsciously, my gaze is drawn over in his direction. My breath catches in my throat. He’s staring back at me with a ravenous hunger in his eyes. My clit throbs in response and a prickly sensation goes up all over my arms. Not here. My heart beats rapidly. Not with everyone else watching. My eyes dart around the room, but everyone’s looking at Harold.

  Doesn’t he know that you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure?

  Oh, he knows, I tell myself, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s a man that wants what he wants, and everything else be damned.

  Logan continues to stare at me, his eyes boring into me like I’m the only person in the room. I shift in my seat, my core heating from his gaze alone. Good God, I’m not sure how I’m going to get through this.

  “So how much will this new tactic cost us?” Logan asks, his eyes still on me.

  It takes a second for me to realize that he’s talking to Harold, and I feel a small twinge of disappointment.

  Harold, a pudgy younger man with a balding head, beams happily, pleased to have caught the interest of his new boss. “Practically nothing at all, sir,” he says. “It’s a pop-up, and it won’t cost more than the small yearly fee of an ad.”

  My ears perk up, and I tear my eyes away from Logan. “That’s not true,” I argue. “Using this method will result in a huge loss of revenue. Studies have shown that buyers are less likely to buy and checkout when a pop-up occurs.” I turn my gaze back on Logan. “It pisses them off, and they get turned off by it.”

  Harold goes red in the face. I can tell that I’ve embarrassed him, and I cringe internally, but I can’t help it.

  I’m not going to let someone propose an idea that would be bad for the company. I could have eased into it, but it had to be said.

  “That’s not true,” Harold objects, shaking his head. “Layman Corp uses this very same method, and they’ve seen profits grow by two hundred and fifty percent.”

  I open my mouth to set him straight, but then stop. I’m not sure if this debate with a coworker in front of a room of executives would be a good look. But I know what Harold is saying isn’t factual and could prove disastrous for our sales department.

  Logan catches my eye and gives me an imperceptible nod.

  “But were pop-up ads all they did to increase revenue?” I ask, my voice picking up confidence as I speak. “Or is there a bigger picture that you’re not looking at?”

  Harold stands there, glaring at me angrily.

  “You do realize Layman Corp utilizes various tactics for their ads, one of which is testing ad methods that are proven to be bad for business to see if they can improve them, right? They released a study just last month that backs up my claim that they are dismal for business and through testing pop-up ads they came up with a more effective ad campaign, and that is what caused their profits to grow by two hundred and fifty percent.”

  I take in a breath, hating that I feel like I’m arguing. I don’t want to. He can read the study, and this conversation would be null and void.

  “Charlotte’s right,” Cary Ann pipes up from at the end of the table, brandishing her work tablet and drawing Logan’s gaze. It’s been several days since I last saw her, but she looks like she’s had a long night,
judging by the bags under her eyes. Her red cashmere sweater and white dress pants look nice on her, though. “There have been several studies done that show pop-up ads only piss off users, and some have actually resulted in lawsuits.”

  Logan swivels back around to appraise Harold who’s looking like he’s about to blow steam out of his ears, his face red as a tomato. I feel sorry for the poor guy. And I didn’t mean to embarrass him, but I know I'm right in this.

  “Is there anything else you would like to add, Harold?” Logan asks easily, seemingly unaffected.

  For a moment, it looks like Harold's going to start yelling at me and branding me the demon bitch from hell, but instead he shakes his head and says, “Thank you for listening, sir.” And he returns to his seat.

  Close by, Eva gives me a thumbs up. She thinks I’ve done a good job, but I feel horrible. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, and I’m pretty sure I’ve just made a new enemy. Great.

  For the rest of the meeting, several people get up to speak and I do a better job at paying attention, but I catch Logan gazing at me every time I look at him. I spend awhile thinking about what just happened before the meeting and what it all means. A part of me wants to apologize to Logan for how I treated him, and how quick I was to accuse him of being an asshole. Another part of me wants to just quit this job and run away from this stress.

  When Logan dismisses the meeting, I grab my briefcase and get up to leave, intending on putting everything behind me, but I freeze when Logan issues a command. “I need a moment to speak with you, Miss Harrison.”

  Holy hell. Not again.

  Slowly, I lower myself back in my seat, anxiety twisting my stomach. I’m not sure what Logan could want with me, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. Not with what happened earlier.

  I sit there, my pulse picking up speed as everyone slowly files out of the room. Eva is one of the last to go and she sends me a flirty wink as if to say, ‘he has the hots for you, girl’ and then she leaves the room and I’m all alone with Logan.

  God. If only she knew.

  Chapter 18

  Logan

  I can feel her eyes back on me. She’s back to being lost in thought as the meeting wraps up. She’s so beautiful and intelligent with a poise I admire. Yet I’ve damaged that. That’s what I do, it’s what I’m good at.

  I’m not used to giving a fuck. But I brought her close, and I know damn well I’m responsible for that hurt look and distant stare. She doesn’t realize how fucking obvious it is.

  Hastings is watching her like a hawk.

  They’re going to think I yelled at her or did some fucked up thing to her. And I did.

  I didn’t realize it though.

  I shouldn’t be pushing this; I should show some fucking restraint. But she’s all worked up and feeling insecure because of me. Not about what’s between us, but over her job. I don’t fucking like that. I didn’t even consider that it would be an issue.

  I never considered it because it’s simply not a matter I’ve ever had to worry about.

  It’s been bugging the shit out of me since she left my office. I feel like a fucking prick.

  This isn’t a good look for me. I really don’t give a fuck about the office, but for a woman I’ve slept with… I don’t like her thinking I was going to hurt her. It makes me uneasy. I need to make this right.

  Harold Geist wraps up his presentation. He’s completely deflated now that Charlotte’s corrected him. She didn’t mean to shut him down. She’s right though. It would have been a horrible move. I was at least going to wait for his talk to be done to tell him no. But Charlotte stepping up and telling him outright how his decision would negatively affect sales only proves to me more that I made the right decision.

  I don’t want to lose her.

  My heart twists in my hollow chest and I’m not sure that I like how strongly I feel toward her. “That’s all for today.” I end the meeting abruptly. “We’ll reassess next week.”

  Charlotte’s quick to stand, and I know she’s going to bolt. I’m an asshole for taking advantage of my position, but I call out, “I need a moment to speak with you, Miss Harrison.”

  At least this time it’s for her benefit, not mine. I still can’t look her in the eyes. I can feel the gaze of several people in the room, but I ignore them.

  I couldn't care less about them and what they think about me.

  I finally look at where she was seated, half expecting her to have just left, but she’s still there, staring at the pen in her hand as she taps it lightly on the table. The rest of the group files out, most people not paying much attention to either of us.

  The second the door shuts, she looks up at me with a glare. “I told you, I didn’t want to do this.”

  I hold her gaze and watch as several emotions flit across her face. But the one most evident is insecurity. She still doesn’t know what to think.

  What she needs is a good fuck. She needs a release, and so do I.

  She’s making this so damn difficult. Part of me wants to bend her over this table and take care of her like I want to. She’d feel better then. She’d be happier.

  My dick hardens just thinking about it. Charlotte clears her throat and starts going on about how she wants the same respect as everyone else. Something or other that I don’t really pay attention to. After all, I respect her more than most of them. Whether she wants to believe it or not.

  It doesn’t stop me from picturing her plump lips parted as she pants and moans in time with me leaving a bright red mark on her ass and fucking her.

  Soon… if I play my cards right.

  Right now she can yell at me all she wants. She can fight this and pretend she doesn’t want it. I have the time.

  The thought makes my eyes drop to the floor and my fists clench. It’s only when I stop hearing her sweet voice that I look up.

  “You weren’t even listening!” she says with exasperation.

  Fuck! I didn’t mean that. How fucking deep am I going to dig this damn hole I’m in?

  I hold my hands up in surrender as she breathes deeply and starts to lay into me again, “I don’t know what you expect from me when you won’t even listen to me!” Her voice is getting louder and I’m sure they’re going to hear her if she yells anymore. I should probably wait to approach her again, but I'm an impatient man.

  I keep my hands raised in surrender, “I’m sorry. I do apologize.”

  She looks at my hands and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She grips the pen and then looks back at me. She swallows thickly and asks, “What do you want, Logan?”

  “I want to take you to dinner,” I say simply.

  The words come out without my consent. I hadn’t anticipated it. I didn’t even know what I wanted to tell her when I called out her name. I just couldn’t let her leave with the way we left things.

  She looks at me completely bewildered, as though she doesn’t believe what I said. Her mouth opens and closes, with nothing coming out.

  I only want to give her pleasure. I can see how easily it would work. She’d benefit as much as I would. But it was never meant to leave the office. It can’t be… more.

  This is dangerous. More for her than me. It’s one thing to take her as a fuck buddy for mutual enjoyment and keeping things limited to the office. That’s what I had in mind when I saw her in Vegas. Nothing more than that. But I didn’t anticipate feeling… guilty.

  I hurt her, and I want to make it right. I think she just needs to see me in a different light. She has me built up as the enemy. I don’t want that.

  I can take her out this one time. Just once. Just to smooth things over and get her naked on my desk tomorrow morning.

  “No strings. No commitments. Just dinner.”

  “That’s why you asked me to stay?” she asks with slight disbelief.

  “Yes.” My heart hammers in my chest as I tell her again. “I just want to take you to dinner.”

  Chapter 19

  Charlotte

/>   Just dinner. That’s what he says. A part of me wants to believe him, but I get the feeling that he wants more. It makes me feel uneasy, but a part of me wants more, too. I crave what happened in Vegas between us, it was the first time that I’ve felt anything since breaking up with Ian.

  I feel like I should be telling him no and staying away. This whole relationship is wrong, and it won’t end well. I just know it. But I can’t resist him. He’s too tempting. And I’m addicted to him like a junkie that needs her next fix.

  What if he holds it over my head if I turn him down? I wonder. This is liable to get out of hand.

  Somehow, I doubt it. But even if he doesn’t, I feel like another hookup will only cause extreme tension in the boardroom and I don’t know if I can handle any more of that. Yet at the same time, it’s all I can think about.

  I look out the tinted window of his Aston Martin as we ride through downtown, my mind racing with all sorts of thoughts. A call comes through his car speaker, the third since we started the drive, and we’ve only been driving for less than five minutes.

  I see him watching me out of the side of his eye as he hits the hang up button on the touchscreen of the vehicle’s console. The sounds of soft, classical music fills the car once again. Beethoven.

  I’m not usually one for this type of music, but I do find that i's easing the anxiety I feel in my stomach.

  “You know,” I say, turning to look at him, “you can take the calls if you have to. I don’t mind.”

  He glances over at me, and his lips quirk up into a smile. “I do. They can wait.”

  My heart does a backflip. Logan is choosing me over what could be important business calls. It makes me feel special, but at the same time wary. I open my mouth to say something, and then pause. I’m not sure what I should say.

  How about we stop this car and you fuck me right now? I think lustfully. I feel ashamed, but not as much as I did earlier. Not when he’s treating me like this. This makes things different. It makes them easier.