The Boss

by Various

  Powell gulped her juices and licked her thighs and pussy clean. Then he looked up at her flushed face for further instructions, his own face shining.

  ‘Take … take out your cock!’ Lisette gasped, still shivering with the aftershocks of all-out orgasm. It was true: there was no greater aphrodisiac than power. ‘Sit down! I’m … going to make you come with my feet.’

  Powell yanked his belt open and popped the button on his jeans, tore his zipper and pants down. His cock speared out hard and long and straight, pink shaft smooth and clean-cut, hood mushroomed and purple. He plopped down on his bare ass on the stool, cock eagerly jutting up from his loins.

  Lisette licked her lips and shakily sat down on the workbench, limbs bathed in sweat. She stretched her arms out behind her, placed her hands on the scarred surface of the bench, then stretched her legs out in front of her, balancing on her bare bum. She reached out with her toes and clasped Powell’s cock.

  ‘Jesus!’ he howled, bucking.

  Lisette gripped his swollen shaft between her long toes, feeling the throbbing passion of the unabashed legman, her footman. Then she pumped, pulling her legs back, gliding her toes along either side of Powell’s cock, thenpushing them forwards again. He bucked again, groaning with pleasure, glaring down at his toed cock.

  Lisette pumped faster and faster, her thighs and calves and feet straining, toes clutching so that the knuckles burned even whiter. Powell’s huge cock lengthened and thickened even more between her pumping feet, and pearls of pre-come spilled from the gaping slit at the bloated tip.

  Lisette pulled her toes free, flexed them, then grasped Powell’s enormous erection between her curved soles and pistoned his cock with her peds. Powell jerked and bellowed. His cock spurted semen, long, thick, leaping hot ropes that splashed Lisette’s pussy and rained down on her thighs. The man’s eyes flew wildly up and down Lisette’s pumping legs, then blazed down at her stroking feet.

  Lisette had never seen or felt a man come so hard and so long before. She milked him quivering dry, her legs and pussy coated with his sticky adulation – and capitulation.

  ***

  Lisette wasn’t laid off from the payroll department. In fact, Powell promoted her to head of the human resources department. So it became her decision as to who would stay and who would leave.

  She put her pampered feet up on her brand-new desk in her new office and crossed her lovely lower limbs. Then did an eeny-meeny-miny-moe with her former co-workers in payroll, applying her good business sense.

  Damsel in Success

  Rachel Randall

  Erin lingers by the stairwell, looking back one last time.

  Her leaving party’s over. Her former colleagues, eager for a rowdier next round, are waiting for her down at the bar. She’s on her way to join them, to toast her leap to the next rung on the corporate ladder. And she will.

  Only, there’s light flooding from the one office door still ajar.

  He’s still here. Should she …?

  It’s tempting to leave without saying goodbye. The old Erin would have left, she knows; cloaked hurt with pride and burned her bridges. She’s older and wiser, though, after three years of working with him in this high-pressure environment. She’s thrived. Learned to think things through rather than to rely on instinct. And it’s clear to her that this thing with him needs to be resolved one way or another, once and for all.

  She rolls her shoulders to shake out her gathering tension. Not even wine and temporary freedom can remove the weight of unfinished business.

  Erin finds Ben standing behind his desk, looking out through the immense glass wall at the back of his office. As always, her first impression of him is one of power worn quietly but well, of competence and a keen mind. She’s not sure when it was that she first saw past the good suits and authority of her boss to the man underneath. But since then all she can see is a tall man, with a fit body and a mouth that she has a bad habit of staring at during meetings. A serious man who doesn’t take himself seriously – who likes to play squash even though it always makes him hobble the next day, and who’s been known to talk Take That with the personal assistants.

  He’s given her nothing to hang a crush on, has always been perfectly professional, even though she knows better than to think that he hasn’t been aware of her interest. Hell, the entire forecasting team knows. But the unspoken rule here is no fooling around with co-workers, and he’s never seemed to regret that policy.

  Tonight, though, there’s clearly something bothering him. His hands are jammed into his trouser pockets, and his neck is rigid as he watches something out on the street. From this angle, she can see every detail of his reflected face – the strong frames of his glasses, the thoughtful set of his jaw. The sudden tilt of his head when he notices her watching him.

  They stand like that for a moment, watching each other in the glass, before he says, ‘Spectacular, isn’t it?’

  Her heels click, too loud, on the floor as she crosses to join him. The City, spread out below them, is lit up against the wintry evening. Streaming white headlights, stuttering red brakes. The dome of Liverpool Street Station, glowing like a commuter beacon. And at the farthest left-hand corner, majestic St Paul’s and a hint of river where the lights refract on the water.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She turns away from the view because it’s just too hard not to keep looking at him instead.

  There’s paperwork on his desk, haphazardly strewn and abandoned. Erin wonders what he’s working on so late that’s making him frown, and that has kept him only briefly and at the periphery of her farewell drinks.

  That’s none of my business any more, she reminds herself sternly.

  When she can’t resist glancing back at him, she sees that he’s still looking distracted.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘You’re off to wreak havoc on some other poor sod.’

  ‘I’ve got a few weeks’ leave first,’ she tells him, grinning at this flash of humour from him. It’s moments like this that made her fall for him, she knows; a mentor with a naughty streak. Erin wonders if that’s why they’ve always got along so well – she’s always been a student with sass.

  He nods. ‘Smart idea,’ he says. ‘Always best to start something new with a clear head. This place can be hard to shake off.’

  ‘Some things about it, anyway,’ she agrees, daring him to bite.

  His raised brows make it obvious he’s seen the bait. ‘We haven’t had much time to discuss your new job,’ he says, eluding her again. ‘How hard did you have to push them to get the deal you wanted?’

  ‘It was a good offer.’

  His gaze sharpens. ‘You didn’t negotiate?’

  Flummoxed, still thinking about what it might take to wear down his resistance, her reply is the shade of vague that she knows from experience acts as a red flag to the mentor in him. ‘Well … all the details aren’t quite sorted yet.’

  ‘Erin, make sure that you negotiate. Always negotiate. Every thousand you start on will mean hundreds of thousands over the course of your career. Quantify why you’re worth more than their initial offer, and think about what you want in terms of flex-time, holiday, bonuses.’ He scowls into the distance, not so much at her as at some imagined Human Resources lackey. ‘You should be walking into this with at least a company car.’

  This side of him is so familiar, so comfortable, that she finds herself instinctively looking around for the chair she usually sits in when she’s taking notes in meetings. She catches herself just in time – I don’t work for him anymore, she reminds herself – and shakes her head. ‘I’ll handle it.’

  The words sound defensive rather than assured, and she grits her teeth as Ben gives her a searching look. He glances down at the digital clock beside his computer. Light from the desk lamp picks out a few strands of silver amid the dark gold of his hair. ‘It’s late. I assumed you’d be going out to celebrate.’

  It’s a dismissal, and it stings. She swallows
her pride and her retort. If this is the last time she’ll be in his office, she wants to make sure he knows how much she’s appreciated her time here. ‘I am,’ she says. ‘I just wanted to say thank you. And goodbye.’

  She holds out her hand and, to her surprise, he takes it in both of his. She can feel his thudding pulse, tickling her fingertips. She shivers as they hold like that, all her prickliness melting away. Without looking she knows that her nipples must be visibly hard. Reluctantly, she draws her hand away and her skin buzzes in the aftermath of his touch.

  ‘Goodbye, Erin,’ he says, seemingly unaffected. ‘Best of luck with your future endeavours.’

  She can’t read his expression, but it’s the same look he’d worn when she’d given her recent presentation to the Board. Then, it had been unnerving to have no idea what was going through his head. Now, she just feels disappointment.

  ‘So. We … we’re at the All Bar One if you’d like to join us when you’re finished here.’

  He doesn’t reply, so she straightens her pencil skirt, giving him time, hoping he’ll take the opportunity. His mouth is parted slightly, but his eyes have gone distant. Right, then.

  ‘Bye,’ she says, reluctantly turning her back on him.

  ‘Erin,’ he calls out suddenly. ‘A word of advice, before you go.’

  She pauses a step away from the door, held in place by the challenge she recognises in his voice. The same tone she’s come to associate with him setting her an assignment that punched above her weight.

  ‘Learn to ask for what you want, or you’ll never get it.’

  Erin whirls to see him leaning forwards with hands planted against the desktop. Incredibly, she hears her own desire in his tone. She steps towards him, shoulders squared, chin up, drawing encouragement from the way his eyes gleam back at her.

  ‘My life is not a teaching exercise!’

  ‘No,’ he counters. ‘But you obviously need advice.’

  ‘I’m not the same girl you took a chance on, Ben,’ she warns him. Frustration makes her voice waver. ‘I’ve earned my way and I’m not looking for advice.’

  ‘I know what you’re looking for.’ He says it with the same casual certainty he’d once said, ‘The projections for Q4 are off, do them again,’ and ‘I’m sure you’ll be an excellent addition to our team, Ms Ross,’ but his phrasing is so sexual that, for a moment, she can scarcely believe it.

  Then the excitement kicks in. ‘The reference you wrote for me,’ she says, riding the adrenalin. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘That you were extraordinarily capable. That you have ambition, and that I fully expect to see you achieve great things. And while your inexperience occasionally betrays you, you learn from your mistakes. I said,’ her former boss tells her, ‘that I’m constantly impressed by your professionalism.’

  She recognises the teasing jibe for what it is, but she’s too overwhelmed by the rest to respond. ‘That’s –’ she swallows, her throat dry ‘– very generous.’

  He smiles at her. His mouth is beautiful; mobile and lush. How many times has she thought about that mouth on her body? Too many times not to give this a serious try, she tells herself.

  Determination gives her the impetus to continue. ‘And what would you say to me, if you could say anything? What would that reference say?’

  He focuses on her with all the interest she’s ever wanted from him. The heat of his full attention scorches.

  ‘I’d tell you that you’ve come a long way, but that you still need to separate doing a good job from doing a good job for someone. I’d tell you that being good isn’t enough and that you need to learn how to negotiate, so you get what you deserve. I’d tell you that when you’re sitting in my office, being clever, it makes me want to pull you across this desk, push your skirt up and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name.’

  ‘Ben –’

  ‘I’m telling you now. I’ll be very, very sorry to see you walk out that door.’She closes her eyes for a moment, savouring it all but uncertain as rules shatter around her. She breathes deeply before meeting his gaze. ‘Maybe I do need some guidance,’ she says.

  He crooks his finger, beckoning her closer. She considers him, drawing out the moment, before she stalks forward. There’s more swing in her hips than she’s ever used during office hours, and as a statement of intent it does the trick. When she reaches for his tie and winds the silk around her fist, she’s gratified to see the swift rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickens.

  There’s a slight tremor in her voice as she says, ‘I want to get what I deserve, Ben.’

  It’s enough to satisfy him for now, thank God, because he kisses her like he can’t wait a moment longer.

  It’s good, Erin thinks, to know that it isn’t only her, that she hasn’t been alone in this for so long. Even if she wants to bloody kill him for making her wait. Her mouth is tingling and her knees feel weak. ‘An office romance,’ she murmurs against his lips. ‘I don’t want to get into trouble with my boss.’

  His smile is slow and predatory as he rests on the edge of the desk. It ignites her lust, makes her body clamour for more attention. Kissing him again has taken on a compelling urgency. She lets him pull her between his thighs, until her trembling knees hit the underside of the desk.

  His hands skim up her hips, following the darts on her Thomas Pink shirt to frame her waist. He splays his fingers and rubs gently through the fabric. ‘You don’t work for me any more,’ he reminds her. ‘Though I do hope you’ll consider offering me freelance services.’

  She gasps as he strokes a sensitive spot. ‘You have something in mind?’

  Laughter crinkles the corner of his eyes. ‘Just keeping you busy until you start your next job.’

  She laughs back at him, feeling happiness rise like a bubble in her chest. It seems very natural to take off his glasses and set them aside in preparation. ‘What, in bed?’

  ‘Unless you have a better offer.’

  His hands are so warm, just as she’s always imagined, but his mouth isn’t soft at all. He pushes against her, demanding, his fingers digging into her ribs as his tongue slides past her lips.

  She’s tried so hard not to romanticise. But yes, she’s imagined this, and yes, it’s a thousand times more amazing, more dirty, more everything to kiss him here in his office, in real life. It’s as empowering as it is embarrassing to want to give like this, to need to take like this.

  She pours all these contradictions into their kiss. Lets him stroke across her teeth, her tongue, then pushes back and grasps his jaw with her hands so she can hold him at the perfect angle. She draws back only when she needs to breathe. They’re both panting, already on fire for each other.

  ‘Stay there,’ she tells him, pressing her fingertip to his lips. He does it –staying still and silent, watching her with eyes gone dark as she kicks off her heels and shimmies out of her skirt and stockings. She unbuttons her shirt slowly enough to make him twitch, his obedience gone the way of impatience.

  ‘Come back here,’ he demands. His trousers have drawn tight across his thighs and groin, and the ridge of him presses, tantalising, against his front zip.

  She resists an instant longer. ‘Just considering my options.’

  When she’s wearing only her black knickers and bra, Erin presses him backwards, letting her momentum flatten him to the desk. Papers fly off onto the floor, but spreadsheets are the last thing she’s thinking about.

  ‘So,’ she muses as she rakes a hand through her kiss-dishevelled black hair. ‘The position is appealing.’ She straddles his hips. ‘I’d like to know more about the compensation you have in mind. Tell me about your –’ she squirms down against him, grinding into the hard bulk of him beneath the fine worsted ‘– package.’

  He barks out a chuckle even as his hips surge upwards. Somewhere in the heady rush of overwhelming contact, she falls onto him, her curves melting into his angles. Erin tilts back just
a bit, letting him see her want for him written all over her face. Their mouths smash together in a kiss that’s messy, slippery, but barely enough to satisfy.

  Ben shoves his body more tightly against hers so she feels every rigid inch of him. The yielding folds of her pussy begin to mould to his shape, even through the barriers of fabric. His shirt is damp with perspiration and the musk-and-sex scent of him makes her salivate. She suddenly wants to get his cock into her mouth, desperately. He feels thick, hot, blunt underneath her. She wants that in her body, working her. Testing her limits.

  ‘Too many clothes,’ she mutters, working down his zipper.

  He bucks up, nearly dislodging her.

  She licks across the day’s stubble roughening his chin. ‘Definitely too many clothes,’ she rasps. ‘Take them off?’

  His hands tangle in her hair, pulling, but his gaze is fixed on the fullness of her breasts as they press against his chest. ‘I’m afraid that offer’s not on the table yet.’

  He twists up, then rolls them over and off the desk. Sharp corners dig into her hip, making her cry out in surprise. She barely notices that her feet have hit the floor and that Ben is frogmarching her across the room.

  She’s still blinking back tears of shocked pain when he pushes her against the window, his hips and chest pinning her easily. The plate glass is cool on her belly, her breasts, the tops of her thighs; his hands are deliciously rough on her ass, the long line of her back, the nape of her neck.

  Erin slaps her palms against the glass, but she’s going nowhere – and she doesn’t want to. Everywhere around her London glows, and, trapped against this panorama of power and money, all she wants is the man right here with her. She knows it would be easy, very easy, to flatten her cheek against the glass, to close her eyes and enjoy the ride. But while this man has taught her patience, with her body craving every sensation she can get, she’s not about to wait for his lead.