by Linnea May
Riley
The image of him walking into the conference room will be engraved in my brain forever because I have never seen a man quite like him.
I have never seen a man who looks like this. I have never seen a man who moves the way he does, with confidence running through every fiber of his being, all the way down to the tips of his fingers.
Cain Hewett is the most sought-after client this company has ever pursued, or so I have been told. He is associated with one of the largest cybersecurity providers on the market, and he is interested in our product.
A product that runs on my code.
It’s a sad reality that this last part won’t play a significant role in whatever happens with the program. Because, while I may have perfected this code, I wasn’t the lead software engineer working on the project, so the praise doesn’t go to me, but to my slightly more experienced and older colleague, Elijah. That’s just the way it is. He has been working here longer, he was the one in charge—and he is the one who gets to shake Mr. Hewett’s hand first when he joins our anxious little group in the only conference room this small firm has.
I stand in the far back, nervously fiddling with my restless hands while my eyes are glued to the out-of-this-world handsome man who could decide the future of our entire team.
I was tense even before he showed up due to the tremendous importance of this meeting, but now I’m barely able to stop the trembling that consumes my entire body, and my head especially.
“Chill, chill, chill,” I hiss to myself, hoping that my voice is low enough not to be overheard by everyone around me busily exchanging pleasantries.
But, of course, he hears.
Mr. Hewett’s probing gaze turns in my direction, one eyebrow slightly arched as he investigates me.
I move as if on command, approaching him with my hand stretched out like a robot and a generic greeting on my lips.
“Prey, junior developer,” I introduce myself as our hands meet. “It’s nice to meet you.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth when he responds.
“Hewett, pleasure.”
Heat rushes to my face immediately, and it doesn’t get better when he refuses to let go of my hand. His handshake is firm and domineering from the beginning, accompanied by a subtle pull that I cannot ignore.
I try to remove my hand from his, but instead of letting go, his grip only intensifies, holding me back with such force that I almost stumble forward.
“Prey, huh,” he says, his voice low and laced with mystery. “What a promising name.”
I think I’m actually gasping at his remark.
Promising? What the hell is he talking about?
Mr. Hewett seems visibly amused at my confused state of shock. The smirk on his face widens into a grin, but at least he finally lets go of my hand.
See, it was weird between us from the beginning. Because he made it weird. While he was all professional during the meeting—hardly ever looking in my direction as he followed our presentation, asking just the kind of questions that we were prepared for—his demeanor changed as soon as we were alone together.
And we were only ever alone together because he made it happen.
Because on that day, only hours after the meeting when we first met, he waited for me downstairs as I was about to head home. I left the office building in a hurry, my eyes down on the screen of my phone and my mind occupied with the question of what I wanted to have for dinner that evening.
And then there he was. He manifested right before me, blocking my path with his presence so that I almost bumped into him. I flinched in surprise, tilting my head back, ready to apologize, when I was floored by his sudden appearance.
“Hello, Miss Prey,” he said, again with that mischievous smile on his face.
“Mr... Hewett,” I stuttered in response, casting him an insecure smile as I tried to make sense of his sudden appearance. My mind was rattling right away, trying to find a reason as to why on Earth he would be here—and why the hell he would approach me like that, making it seem as if he had waited for me down here.
“Did you... did you forget anything upstairs?” I tried the first assumption that came to mind.
And my heart almost stopped when he shook his head in response, a condescending smile on his face.
No, he didn’t forget anything. He was there to see me.
He was there to invite me out for a drink.
I said yes, and told myself I was only doing it because I didn’t want to piss him off—not when we were trying to win him over as a client.
That was bullshit, of course.
I don’t know why I needed an excuse to justify accepting his invitation, but telling myself that I was doing it for my team—and, effectively, my career—seemed easier than admitting how insanely attracted I was to him.
Maybe things would have developed differently if I had been more honest with myself.
Maybe I would have been smarter about my actions in the weeks that followed that fateful day.
Maybe it would not have ended with me humiliated and out of a job.
Maybe.
I can’t change the past, and to be honest, I wouldn’t want to even if I could.
Because despite everything, Cain Hewett was the best thing that ever happened to me. He showed me things I never knew I craved. He read me like an open book, understanding even the smallest of signals, even when I wasn’t aware of sending them. He mesmerized me, he governed me, he owned me in just the right way.
For a very short period of time, he was everything to me—even though we never said those magical words to each other. I never spoke of love because I didn’t think those words could do justice to what was happening between us. It wasn’t dating. It wasn’t infatuation.
It was an awakening.
An awakening that ended just as abruptly as it began, with an unexpected bang, a shock to the system—and it forever changed my life.
Chapter 11
Cain
“We can’t do this here,” she whispers while looking around the hallway nervously.
Her eyes are wide with fear and her shoulders are pulled up to her ears, as if preparing for an impending attack—but I know that her core is throbbing with desire and the blush on her cheeks has nothing to do with the cold outside.
I know she is loving this.
I know she loves walking through her office at night with her perky ass on display and her hands behind her back.
And I know she’s wet.
I know because I made her take off her tights and panties when we were still at our table in the restaurant enjoying a lavish but light dinner. I know because I pushed her against the wall inside the elevator on our way up here, pulled her skirt up, and ordered her to spread her legs for me so I could investigate her bare pussy.
She mewled under my touch, protesting only for show and not because she meant it. She closed her eyes in shame when my fingers slid between her hot folds and a treacherous wet sound revealed her arousal.
She knew what was about to happen. She knew, and she got fucking wet from it.
“We can, and we will,” I insist, giving her a little nudge to keep moving when she hesitates and turns around to look at me with pleading eyes.
“Go now,” I urge her. “Go, or you’ll regret it.”
She inhales audibly, protest dancing on the tip of her tongue, as it did ever since I revealed my plan to her.
I’m going to play with her. I’m going to fuck her. I’m going to make her come as often as I damn well please.
And I’m going to do all of that in her boss’s office.
She shook her head violently upon hearing those words.
But she did everything I asked of her since that moment.
And now she’s walking in front of me, swaying her hips for my benefit as she parades her naked ass in front of me, as we’re headed for the door at the very end of this long corridor.
The door that Riley told me was never locke
d because her boss insisted on an open door policy, which makes him sound like less of a douchebag than he actually is.
Riley pauses in front of the office, standing still and tense while her gaze is glued on the closed door in front of her.
“Go,” I remind her, accompanied by a pinch on her left ass cheek.
She flinches at the intrusive touch, but the sigh that leaves her lips speaks of arousal just as much as fear. Those two emotions seem to meet in a sweet blend for naughty little Miss Riley, as much as she tries to deny it.
She opens the door and steps inside the room, moving slowly and cautiously, as if anyone could be disturbed by us. It’s close to midnight, and the office is as deserted as it can be. Yet she’s worried about being caught.
Sweet little girl.
“Turn on the light,” I command after following her inside and closing the door behind me.
Riley hesitates for a moment, appearing confused, as I’m the one standing right next to the light switch for the ceiling lights. I’m just about to urge her with another warning when she realizes that I’m talking about the small desk lamp right next to her. It immerses the room in a warm, soft light after she switches it on.
The room is small, considering it’s the boss’s office, with large windows covering the wall opposite the door. There’s nothing but a giant, ugly gray desk with two computer screens on top and a massive leather chair behind it. The bookshelves to my left are mostly empty, but it seems like this man takes good care of the only plant in his office—a large Monstera that dominates the corner right next to the desk.
Riley is standing next to the plant, her right hand still resting on the switch of the desk light while she regards me with an anxious look. Her skirt is pulled up above her hips, exposing her shaved little pussy, though she’s still properly dressed from the waist up.
“Undress.”
My one-word command causes her lower lip to quiver as she reaches up to the collar of her blouse.
“I’m not sure if I ca—”
“Now!” I cut her off, approaching her with a single, yet determined step.
“Yes, sir.” She nods, but moves away from me, her naked thigh brushing against the large leaves of the plant next to her as she retreats.
“This is going to happen, little Miss Riley. There’s no backing out,” I snarl as I watch her unbuttoning her tight-fitting white blouse. “And only you can make this easy for yourself—or very, very hard. The choice is yours.”
She nods along as I speak, and her fingers start to move faster with every syllable. I can see the excitement flaring in her eyes as she hurries to please me to her best abilities. She tears herself out of the blouse, exposing her perky breasts underneath. I could see her hardened nipples protruding against the thin fabric before, showing what a good girl she was for not wearing a bra tonight, just like I told her.
“Good girl,” I praise when the last item of clothing has been removed and she is standing before me completely naked. We have only been playing for a few weeks, but it’s enough for her to know that she mustn’t follow the inclination to cover herself before my eyes—so she doesn’t. She just stands there, her idle fingers moving aimlessly as she lets her arms hang at the side of her body, her shoulders pulled back and her eyes latched onto mine.
“You know what to do,” I tell her. “We talked about this.”
She swallows dryly while her eyes wander to the desk next to her.
“Do it,” I press, keen on interfering with any doubts that may creep up on her right now.
Riley shakes her head, but just as I’m about to warn her again, she does what I expect of her. She pushes the keyboard of her boss’s computer aside to make room for herself. Then she leans over the desk, placing her elbows on the gray surface before hollowing her back for me. Her gaze remains fixated on the table while her fingers clench around the edges.
“Good girl.”
The praise ignites something in her, evident in the way she moves as if shaken by a leisurely wave.
She stiffens when I come closer while unbuckling my belt. A tremor journeys through her body when she hears me unzipping my pants and I place myself right behind her.
“Spread,” I command—and this time she doesn’t hesitate to comply. Her hands move back to her ass in an instant, her fingers digging into the pale skin speckled with fading bruises—the remains of our last session a few days ago—as she spreads her cheeks apart for me. The sight of the blue diamond butt plug pleases me just as much as the view of her glinting core. I have been hard from the moment we left the restaurant, but the need for her becomes almost unbearable now.
And I know she’s feeling the same way.
I’ve been denying her for days, reveling in the way she yearned and begged for me to fuck her again. Little Miss Riley is not the kind of slave girl who finds pleasure in lying at a man’s feet with her hands and ankles tied while humiliating herself with unanswered pleas. That’s not the kind of girl she is.
However, she is the kind of girl who would negotiate the terms upon which her wishes would be fulfilled. And she is the kind of girl who agrees to get fucked on her boss’s office desk if she is told that this is the only place where I’ll deign to give her that pleasure.
I didn’t plan to fuck her just yet. I wanted to prolong her torture, to make her squirm and beg for my cock while I pushed to see how far she would be willing to go, if she was in the right state of mind.
After all, I might have use for someone like her.
But she messes with my plan by releasing that irresistible moan when the tip of my cock barely caresses the soft skin of her pink lips. She moves back an inch, the grip on her ass cheeks intensifying while her hot center begs to be fucked by me.
I hate the feeling of defeat that washes over me as I follow her invitation. I hate that she has this kind of control over me.
But it’s all forgotten as soon as I thrust myself into her, stretching her with my entire length until her perky cheeks are pressed against my pelvis.
I forget everything when I’m with her.
And that’s exactly the problem.
Chapter 12
Cain
I find her sitting on the bed cross-legged, the duvet wrapped around her and a reproachful look on her face.
“Where is my stuff?” she inquires. “My bag, my phone, my wallet... did those guys take it all with them or just leave it on the street where they grabbed me?”
I lock the door behind me, unable to hold back an amused chuckle at her demanding list of questions. There’s nothing but fury in her eyes when I walk toward her, and I can see her tightening the duvet around her shoulders.
“You won’t need it anymore,” I simply tell her.
She doesn’t move away, but strains visibly when I sit down on the edge of the bed right next to her.
“Cain, this isn’t funny,” she insists, and the furrow between her eyebrows deepens. “Red. I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate the effort, but can we just—”
Again with that safe word. She really doesn’t get it.
“Appreciate the effort?” I interrupt her, laughing as I shake my head. “Damn, Riley, you’re really digging a deep hole for yourself if you don’t come to terms with reality soon.”
I catch her probing gaze, and for the first time since I came down here, I see a flare of fear in her expression.
“You didn’t really kidnap me,” she asserts. A question phrased as a statement, the typical move of the disbeliever.
“What if I did?” I implore. “Let’s just imagine that this is real, little Miss Riley. Imagine what I say is true.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t speak, instead only staring at me, her eyes searching for the truth in mine. It’s right there, yet she still refuses to see it.
“Then... then if... if this is real,” she begins to stutter, a helpless snicker cutting her off, while she lowers her eyes and shakes her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
She looks up at me, her lashes batting playfully as she bites her lower lip in a move that could be read as flirtatious under any other circumstance.
But I know that she’s playing me in a different way. She always has. Riley is a smart girl and she knows how to make people—men especially—give her what she wants.
This is exactly why she is so valuable for me.
This is why I needed to get her in my hands.
Only problem is, I’m already giving her what she wants from me—the truth. She just doesn’t believe it.
“Try,” I tell her. “Try to accept it. Because, quite frankly, it’s the only chance you have.”
She presses her lips together in a thin line, slowly shaking her head, as if that could change the facts.
“Then tell me why,” she says eventually. “Why did you come up with this whole charade for a job interview? How did you even find me? And why not just call, like a normal person?”
She sighs heavily, lowering her gaze together with her shoulders for a moment before she adds, “Why even... kidnap me?”
“Because I need you.”
She frowns at me. “For what?”
“For a very special job.”
“But... not the one I applied for?”
I nod, but before I can reply further, she fires off another question.
“If you need me for a job, why not just ask me?”
“Would you have answered my call?” I ask. “Or responded to a message, a text, an e-mail?”
Riley tries her best to hide it, but I can see the guilt washing over her as she contemplates her response to me.
“No.”
No matter how hurtful that answer may be, at least it’s the truth.
“See, and I knew that,” I explain. “I needed to get you in a place where you’d be forced to hear me out—and where no is not an option.”
She huffs and shakes her head violently while gesturing around the room.
“So you fucking kidnapped me?” she bursts out. “Because of the things you know about me? Because you thought this was the right way to lure me into doing something I don’t want to do?”
