My First Time With My Dad's Boss

by Sienna Swan

  “We can go get more clothes from my house,” Stacy mentions, brushing out my hair and then trying a bun on me for size.

  “Since when did you get a professional wardrobe?”

  “Dad’s new trophy wife,” Stacy says with an eyeroll. “She’s been trying to get along with me lately. Said that anything that’s hers is mine. Might as well take her up on it.”

  I roll my eyes for Stacy’s benefit as well. Her dad’s new wife’s name is Flo. Flo. Who calls themselves Flo? The answer is a twenty-four-year-old former shop assistant from Brooklyn, but the question still remains.

  In that sense, I’m lucky my dad never went for another woman after mom passed. I don’t think I could have taken it. Though right now, I wish he had someone else to lean on too, not only me. I’m trying to make things better, but the fear remains that I’ll only mess things up worse.

  “So what are we thinking, will Mr. Roarke really call you on your bluff?” Stacy asks, starting a conversation we’ve been having on and off since last night, when my phone buzzes.

  I pick it up, coming face to face with a text from Josh. He’s very courteously told me that he won’t be taking me out tonight and that he’s very sorry for assuming more than he should have. I groan, burying my face in the teddy bear, messing up Stacy’s attempt at wrangling my hair.

  “What?” she asks.

  I hold up the phone and she laughs.

  “He did you a favor with that one.”

  Stacy’s right, again. I’d practically forgotten we were supposed to go out tonight to begin with, and I would have certainly called it off the moment I remembered. But if I can’t even keep the attention of a teenaged boy with hormones running circles around him, how am I supposed to seduce a grownass man to do what I want?

  I’m doomed. But I sort of can’t wait for it. At least my view as I go down to hell will be of Mason Roarke.

  Chapter Six

  Mason

  I took a cold shower before heading into work this morning, determined that I’m over the stupid sexual impulses that have racked me since Cassie Newark stepped into my office on Friday night.

  Mondays are busy at Roarke Industries, and not least this one. My day is packed to the rafters with restructuring meetings - tense stand-offs with department heads and senior managers as we attempt a smooth navigation of the turbulent months ahead. It’s going to feel strange enough not to have Thomas at my side today, even without the added craziness of a hard-on over his daughter.

  I cringe inside at the thought of the little blonde bag of trouble breezing through my corporate empire in cut-offs. I have no idea how to explain her appointment, not with her dressed like a rebellious teenager for the entire office to see, so I’m going to have to rely on the hushed whispers dying down without any official statement on her position. Hopefully she’ll have grown tired of playing secretary and quit before it ever comes to that.

  I don’t know why the idea of her walking out concerns me. The fact that it does is both unsettling and extremely unwelcome given my current circumstances.

  How I wish I had Jenna and Tom back on board, but I don’t have time to dwell on that now. My meetings are all booked up and ready to go, and I’m counting on Cassie being punctual. I’m also counting on her to take minutes in Jenna’s fresh absence. At least an accurate report of the proceedings will be one less thing I have to worry about.

  I find myself watching the clock as seven o’clock. draws near. I know it’s a ridiculously early start, but that’s the way it works around here. I would feel guilty for dragging her in so early if it weren’t for the fact she asked me for it. In light of the other things she offered me, I’d say it could have been a lot worse for her than an early morning start time.

  It takes me a moment to recognize the figure heading my way along the corridor. The woman is chic and professional, with a tidy bun of pale blonde hair coiled high on her head. She’s wearing an exceptionally well-fitted blouse and pencil skirt, high enough on the thigh to be enticing without being slutty, and a pair of tastefully high heels that showcase her legs beautifully.

  It’s only when she’s close enough that I can see her face that I take a sharp breath in shock.

  Cassie Newark doesn’t look anything like the scruffy teenager who filed my paperwork Saturday morning. She looks like a young professional, a confident smile on her face and eyes that twinkle as they meet mine through the glass of my office door.

  She knocks this time, and I have to swallow down my shock as I gesture her in. She checks the watch on her wrist.

  “I’m not late, am I?”

  I shake my head. “Two minutes early.”

  She sighs in relief. “Phew, I was worried about traffic.”

  She takes a seat opposite me and crosses her perfectly toned legs, and all of my self-talk flies out of the window, dying a death long before it smashes into the corporate-pink flagstones below.

  I try to keep my expression as deadpan as possible. “We have meetings all day,” I tell her. “You’ll be taking minutes.”

  She gives me a nod. “Yes, Mr. Roarke.”

  Her sweet tone is almost enough to make me shoot my load in my pants and wreck another suit for the day.

  I tell her she should arm herself with a notepad and pen just to get her away from me for a few seconds, and as my eyes soak in the perky roundness of her peachy ass I know I’m even more fucked now than I was a few days ago.

  This creature, this beautiful corporate creature, is just about more than I can take.

  I make sure I stride well ahead of her on our way down to the boardroom. There is a nervousness in the air as I head through the main admin office, and I hear whispers about the new girl trailing behind me. I don’t dare meet her eyes as I hold the boardroom door open for her, gesturing her to a chair to the right of mine as I take my seat at the head of the table.

  My associates are already assembled, but the room is uncharacteristically quiet. It pains me that I can’t be honest with my employees about the road that lies ahead, but a merger of this size needs utmost confidentially until all contracts are signed, sealed and delivered.

  “Welcome,” I say to the room. “This is my new secretary, Cassandra. She’ll be taking minutes today.”

  Cassie gives a smile and a wave to the people in the room, and I’m burning up as I see the appreciative glances of my male colleagues. I clear my throat and begin in earnest, setting off through the agenda at high speed to make sure we cover all the ground.

  I’m used to efficient presentations, I’m also used to quick, sharp negotiations and hearing everyone’s point of view without getting dragged into unnecessary chatter, but today I’m well from on form. It’s her. Of course it’s her.

  I’m too aware of the frantic scribbling of her pink painted fingers. I’m too aware of the look of concentration on her pretty face and the way her eyes land on my face every time I pause for a moment to ponder my next statement. Her very presence is burning me. I can smell her delicate floral scent on the air and realize that’s a new facet of her appearance, too. I can see how she isn’t entirely used to this new expression of herself by the way she keeps reaching for a strand of hair to push behind her ear which isn’t there, not with her hair coiled up so perfectly.

  Randall Weller, my head of R&D, fires me a question about next quarter’s budget reductions and I barely even hear him. My eyes have wandered to my right, where they are firmly focused on the faint hint of bra strap under Cassie’s blouse. The lack of concentration takes me aback enough that I stumble on my words, and everyone around the table is staring at me, as shocked as I am at my momentary lapse.

  Much to my despair, Randall repeats his question, and I really am burning up now, consumed by a formless rage, both at myself and this ridiculous situation I’ve found myself tangled up in. Rage at this whole merger process too, and all of the ill-founded rumours that I know must be sweeping the business about my callousness with respected colleagues.

  I struggle
to regain my composure, but one meeting bleeds into another, and another after that, and still I’m distracted by Cassie’s sweet blue eyes as they continually fix on mine.

  I’d tell her to stop if that were in any way appropriate. I’d send her away if my raging testosterone would allow me to deny myself the pleasure of having such an intoxicating young woman close enough to breathe in.

  She must be exhausted as we wrap up for the day. She shakes out her wrist, which must be cramping by now, but says nothing about her own discomfort and nothing about the fact we haven’t even broken for lunch. She must be hungry, surely unused to a diet of coffee and concentration like I am.

  “Did you get everything?” I ask her on the way back upstairs to my office. Her heels clack along the corridor as she struggles to keep up.

  “I think so,” she says.

  “You think so?”

  She sighs, and I realize I’m being an ungrateful asshole. “Yes, Mr. Roarke, I think so. I’m new to this stuff.”

  “You better hope you’re a fast learner, then.”

  I guess my final dig is too much for her to take. She dashes on past me to head me off before my office door and her arms are folded across her chest, her big blue eyes are burning with anger.

  “I’ve done everything you asked of me today!” she hisses. “I’ve worked my ass off down there while my hand feels all cramped up like a fucking claw, and still its not good enough for you! Would it kill you to do this on tape, or at least let me type on a keyboard?”

  I stare her out with gritted teeth. “You wanted the job, Cassandra.”

  “No,” she says. “I wanted to save my dad’s job, it’s you that wanted me to be your personal secretary slave girl. No wonder your last secretary left!”

  Her words cut deep. “Jenna loved working for me.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe Jenna’s a dumbfuck, because working for you sucks ass.” She gestures at her perfectly fitting outfit. “Look at me, dressed up like a poodle at a parade. This bun itches like a bitch, and this blouse makes me look like a nun, and I’ve got blisters on my feet from these stupid shoes, and all you care about is whether I’ve written all the minutes down perfectly.”

  “That’s your job,” I snarl, but she shakes her head.

  “Good job I didn’t write the minutes down perfectly, Mr. Roarke.” She holds up her notepad. “Or I’d have filled half this fucking book with um, um, umms. You lost your thread so many times I struggled to keep up with all the stutters.”

  Oh, the fucking rage. It rushes right up my spine at this impudent, self-righteous little brat in front of me.

  “You’ve got a foul mouth,” I tell her.

  “Bite me,” she says. “At least I can get my sentences out today.”

  “Is this your game? Distract me enough to make a fool of me in front of my colleagues?”

  Her eyes widen. “Distract you?! I was taking notes for you, you didn’t even speak to me. No wonder your colleagues don’t have anything to say around that table, Mason. They probably think you’re an idiot, not least for firing my dad. Don’t try to pretend he wouldn’t have been useful here today.”

  My finger jabs through the air before I can stop it. “Watch that smart mouth of yours, Cassandra Newark. I always thought your father was too soft with you. You need to learn some manners.”

  “Manners?!” she hisses. “That’s rich coming from you.”

  I’d swear she hated me if her chest wasn’t ragged with shallow breaths. It’s in her eyes, a hint of something more than rage. I recognize it because I’m sure it’s the same simmering lust I’m feeling through my own veins. This is ridiculous, but I want her, and I’m sure she wants me too.

  “Remember your position,” I tell her, and my voice is stern. “You’re my assistant and you will act accordingly, otherwise I may have to teach you the lesson your father should have taught you years ago.”

  “And what lesson would that be?” she snaps, even though her voice is breathy.

  I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t take a step forward until I’m close enough to feel the heat from her. I shouldn’t tower over her until her big blue eyes have to stare right up into mine.

  “I’ll put you over my desk and spank your ass until you learn not to displease me,” I say, and her mouth drops open.

  “You can’t…”

  “I just did,” I tell her, and her pupils dilate as I stare. “Now go home and don’t come back, before I decide to teach you the lesson right here and now.”

  I brush past her and reach for my doorhandle, but her pretty pink fingers land on my wrist.

  A long moment of silence eats us up, both of us staring at the other as we contemplate what the fuck is going on here.

  “I’m not leaving. I think you should teach me the lesson,” she breathes, and it’s more than I can fight.

  I push the office door open and take her by the elbow. She doesn’t make a sound as I steer her to my desk and fold her over the smooth solid oak top until her ass is in the air.

  It’s only when I yank up her tight little pencil skirt that she squeaks.

  I check the corridor, but it’s only us up here at this time of night.

  “You’re a bad girl,” I tell her and rub my palm on her tight round ass through her frilly white panties.

  She gasps as I tug those down too, and then the dirty little minx shuffles her legs apart so I can see the puffy mound of her pussy through the gap in her thighs. Her hair is darker than on her head, mousy brown curls that I imagine tickling my fingers as I brushed them over her clit. It’s all I can do to hold back from taking out my cock and slamming my way inside her.

  The first slap makes her jolt forward in shock. The second slap is hard and makes her yelp.

  The third makes my cock throb and by the fourth I’m burning up.

  “Bad girls get taught their manners,” I tell her, and it’s music to my ears when she speaks back to me.

  “Yes, Mr. Roarke.”

  Two more and I stumble backwards. I’ve lost my fucking mind and I know it.

  She makes no move to leave at first, just stares back at me with eyes filled with desire.

  “Get dressed,” I tell her, and when she finally pulls her panties up, it’s a painfully slow endeavor.

  HR would have a field day if they could see what the fuck I’ve just done in here. If she had any sense she would blackmail me, tell me that there were plenty of witnesses when we came up to my office together, and she could throw a hefty legal battle my way in court.

  It seems she doesn’t have that sense at all, or maybe she isn’t that malicious.

  She smooths down her skirt and picks up her notepad, chancing a shy smile as she heads back toward the office door.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she tells me.

  I clear my throat ready to seal my doom.

  “I expect that sweet little pussy to be shaved smooth for me the next time this happens,” I growl.

  Her smile is delicious.

  “Yes, Mr. Roarke,” she says.

  Chapter Seven

  Cassie

  On a list of things that I thought I’d be doing for my first corporate job, shaving my pussy for my boss was not one of them. Yet here I am, 6:10 a.m. sharp, wobbling up the stairs toward Mason’s office in heels a little too high for me, and feeling completely naked.

  I still can’t wrap my head around last night. Any sensible, reasonable woman would have headed straight into HR and filed a report the moment her boss told her that he would spank her for having such a mouth on her. What did I do? I practically begged for the spanking.

  My ass still hurts a little but I think it’s wishful thinking more than anything. He didn’t hit me hard enough to leave welts, though a part of me wishes he had now. If only so I would have something to convince me that it wasn’t the inane ramblings of a fevered brain. I didn’t even dare tell Stacy about it yet, thinking she wouldn’t believe me.

  Regardless, after I’d gotten home,
I took a long, purposeful bath, masturbated twice, and then painstakingly shaved my pussy with a razor. I’d never done it before, but it didn’t even occur to me to refuse. Mason’s order, was apparently all that I needed.

  I came in early this morning, hoping I’d have a bit of time to go over my notes from yesterday and start typing them up. The moment I come up to our floor and see the light on in Mason’s office, I stop dead in my tracks.

  Crap.

  I’m not ready to see him, not yet. Not when there’s no one around. Not when the first thing we might talk about is what happened last night. Will he fire me? Will he even need to? I don’t have a contract to terminate, after all. He told me not to come back, does that supersede the spanking? Will he spank me again if I ask him about it?

  The gush of excitement fluttering through my core tells me that I really want to find out. With my hesitation done, I walk straight to my desk, pretending not to notice him in his office at all. Before I manage to sit down, I hear his voice and it makes my pussy throb in anticipation.

  “Cassie, come in here please.”

  I’m a good girl, so why am I dying to be bad with my boss?

  With no time given to ponder that great question of life, I step into his office and close the door behind me instinctively. I’m not sure why, he never has it closed. He stands at his desk and he looks like a man possessed. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he hasn’t slept all night. His body is coiled like a snake’s.

  Eyeing me for a moment, I try not to shrink under the intense scrutiny. I stand a little straighter, having gone for a simple A-line dress today that runs just a little short on my thighs, and a modest blazer. My hair’s up in that itchy bun again. I think I’m chewing my bottom lip.