by CM Albert
“Yes, sir,” she said, crossing her legs and looking at him with her big doe eyes.
I clutched my leather-bound notepad and screamed inside.
We went around like that covering all the genres until he got to me. I gave him a quick update about my work and what percentage was contemporary versus erotica or steamy romance—it was a sixty-five/thirty-five split. I also gave him a breakdown of the authors I had, who I was looking to pull in, and our projected growth in the contemporary category over the next six months.
“I also have an opportunity I’d like to discuss with you privately,” I said, thinking of Eve Donohue. I needed to explain some things first. “I have a pitch meeting set for next Tuesday with a very influential international literary agency who is representing a unique client and wants to get a proposal in front of us. At first blush, I think it’s one we’ll want to jump on. We have first right of refusal, and that’s only going to be the case for a small window of time—possibly a day.”
“Interesting,” he said. He looked at me with a new appreciation in his eyes now that we were really talking business. “And how did that come about?”
I cleared my throat. “Connections, sir.”
“I see,” he said. He was holding a stack of papers, held together with a fat binder clip identical to the ones he’d used on me in the hotel room. The man was pure evil. He handed one of the printouts to each of us.
I was confused because it was an organizational chart, but not for our company. The tasks were similar, but the workflow and reporting structure were completely different. While we all studied the chart, I heard Pierce playing with the binder clip. I snuck a peek at him from the corner of my eye, and he winked at me, tossing me the clip.
I fumbled to catch it before anyone else noticed.
“This is going to be the new romance division,” Pierce said. “No names have been filled in for any of these roles because we’ll be doing an audit of everyone’s current workload, capacity, and financial revenue contributing to the overall genre.”
The group looked completely stunned.
I had so many questions. “Will this new division be reporting to you still?”
“It will. We’re just condensing touch points and optimizing workflow through one official division lead per genre. Every group is going through this streamlining and restructuring process. The new romance division executive editor will have more responsibilities as well, so it’s unlike any one person’s current role here.”
I nodded, excited about the potential this new role created.
“Will this position be open for applications?” Shay asked. It was what we were all thinking.
“No,” Pierce said. “I’ll be announcing the new executives for each division tomorrow in our staff meeting. Those top talents have already been identified and are being notified today.”
I swallowed. Well, shit. Why didn’t he give me a heads-up about this yesterday when he was talking about all these “big changes” coming? Then I realized why. Because, stupid. He’s fucking you. He doesn’t need your approval to make important business decisions. It’s his role now. Not yours.
Still. It stung.
“That’s all,” he said. “If you have any questions, please send them to my PA, Alastor. You haven’t met him yet, but he’s been cc’d on all my communications, so you have his email address. He’ll be starting in person at this office tomorrow. Rhonda will continue handling other division-wide responsibilities, but he’s my personal executive assistant and will have access to my schedule. He’ll also be your first point of contact for getting in touch with me.”
We all stood to leave, everyone visibly shaken.
“Miss Hartley,” he said, “could you please stay a moment?”
Crap.
I looked around at the others. Jealousy was reflected back at me in one set of eyes in particular.
“Sure,” I said warily.
“I’d like an immediate update on that potential deal you were telling me about,” he clarified. “It sounds like we may need to pull in some other teams to make things happen if it’s the level of opportunity you suggest.”
I saw relief wash over Shay’s face before she followed the other women out. Pierce locked the door behind them, drew the shades, and then used the intercom to contact Rhonda.
“I’m in a critical developmental meeting with Miss Hartley and am not to be disturbed for any reason.”
“Yes, Mr. Abrams.”
He hung up the phone, then stalked toward me. Pierce cupped the back of my head and immediately crushed his mouth down on mine. I dropped my padfolio to the floor and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his.
He tasted manly and minty and soothingly familiar already.
“Fuck, Brynn,” he groaned quietly in my ear. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to see you come in this morning in this outfit and keep my mind on work?”
I laughed, arching my neck as he kissed his way down my throat. “And whose fault is that, Mr. Abrams?” I purred. “Thank you, by the way. This was all too extravagant.”
“It was purely for selfish reasons,” he said. “Did you do what I asked?”
I nodded, my hands playing with the back of his hair. “I can’t wait to show you later,” I said quietly. “Is the offer still open to go back to the hotel with you after work?”
“Yes,” he said, “but you’re deluding yourself if you really think I can wait that long to taste you.”
I looked up at him with widened eyes. It was one thing to fool around after-hours when most everyone else had already gone home. It was another thing altogether when there was a floor full of associates just one door away.
“I am not showing you what I’m wearing right now,” I hissed between clenched teeth.
He lowered his hand down my leg, then up under my tight pencil skirt and over my backside. He’d felt the garter belt on his way up and grinned wickedly. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you think?”
He massaged my ass as he kissed me again, and I couldn’t think straight. He walked me backward toward his desk as we kissed, his mouth gently exploring mine. He had a way of maneuvering me until he got what he wanted, and as my ass hit his desk, I knew there was no way I would be able to talk him out of this. What Pierce wanted, Pierce seemed to get when it came to my body. I had zero willpower where he was concerned.
He slowly peeled my blazer off, his eyes lighting with approval when he saw my silky, pale blue blouse. I’d worn the nipple clamps again—just into his office, though. They were too painful to keep on all day, but I knew he could see them through the blouse. He cupped my breasts and rubbed them, gently tugging the clamps to make me squirm with desire.
“Tell me what you thought about when you got dressed this morning,” he said, turning me around. “Put both of your hands on the desk and answer my question.”
I could hardly remember the question I was so turned on.
He lifted my pencil skirt until it was around my waist, and he moaned as he eyed my lingerie. I’d worn the lacy, black garter belt and stockings he’d sent over. I’d never worn anything like this before, but I had to admit, I felt sexier than I ever had—especially knowing it turned Pierce on.
“Well?” he asked, sliding a hand up over my thigh and between my legs. “Part your legs for me, Brynn.”
Though it was unlikely anyone could see into the office building and all the way back to his desk, I was nervous about having the blinds on the windows wide open. There was something so risky and taboo about it. Yet, I couldn’t seem to resist Pierce.
I parted my legs and placed my hands on his desk like he asked me to. Correction—like he’d ordered me to. I shivered with anticipation.
“Honestly?” I said as he slid his fingers back and forth between my legs. “I thou
ght about this. About you tasting me again, like you did yesterday. But I imagined we’d be at the hotel, not here in the office.”
“Well, if you can be a good girl and be quiet, then no one will have to know,” he said, sliding two fingers inside me.
I whimpered as he moved them back and forth.
“Later tonight, you’re going to take everything else off except for the garter belt, stockings, and heels. Then I’m going to fuck your brains out, Brynn Graceland Hartley. Over every square inch of that hotel room.”
My heart accelerated. Of course he knew my middle name. He had access to my personnel files. Still. It sounded sexier than sin coming from his mouth.
“God, yes,” I said, nearly panting.
“But first, I need just a taste of you to hold me over.”
I felt him loop my black silk panties over his thumbs and shivered as he pulled them down my legs. Then he lifted one of my legs at the knee and brought it up to the desk, leaving me splayed wide open.
“Are you positive the door is locked?”
“Of course,” he said. I heard him tear open a condom but didn’t know what was coming next. Part of the fun with Pierce was the element of surprise and his adventurous nature. I needed both in my sexual partners.
He leaned over my back, and I turned my head, letting him capture my mouth in a sinfully slow and decadent kiss. He slid his fingers back inside me and curled them a few more times, nearly bringing me to the edge. He pulled his fingers out before I could come and brought them to his mouth.
“Shh,” he said, his breath hot and musky. “Remember, these walls are thin.”
I was so insanely turned on I didn’t realize why he’d said that until I felt the thick head of his cock breach my lips as he pushed all the way inside of me. I clutched the edge of his desk and bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming out his name.
Pierce gripped my waist and slowly rolled his hips, lodging himself so deep inside of me he practically lifted my feet from the floor each time he thrust to the hilt. It was hard, slow, and demanding. I had to curl my toes inside my pumps to keep them on, and my insides burned with an eternal, aching need.
“Pierce,” I begged as quietly as I could. This was not fair.
He pulled me off the desk, his cock still buried inside me. “Fuck, Brynn.”
He looped his arms under mine, bending his elbows so he was holding me by the shoulders against him. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this until we got back to the hotel room, but I couldn’t wait. You’re driving me to distraction.”
Now was not the time to remind him that this was his idea.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he growled, his voice low and thick. He increased his speed, and I gripped his forearms as he drove himself in and out of me at an unrelenting pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he gasped hoarsely as he pounded into me.
I was so close to coming. His cock was rubbing against my G-spot, and I was nearly delirious with arousal. As if sensing this, he reached his hand down and rubbed my clit furiously. It took no time for that to push me right over. I closed my eyes, bursts of white light short-circuiting my brain and exploding behind my lids as I came. My body spasmed with each last pass of his fingers. I was gripping the back of his head now, falling against his chest as he slowly walked my body down from its orgasm.
“That’s it,” he murmured in my ear, and he kissed my neck and earlobe. “God you’re a sight to see when you come. A fucking sex goddess, Brynn.”
He slowed the rubbing of my clit as he brought me back to the desk.
“Bend back over,” he said, so I did. I gripped the desk and prepared myself for what was coming. I knew the pace he’d have to set so he could come. I lifted my knee onto the smooth, wooden surface and arched back, knowing what he desired. Pierce growled, using one hand to grip my shoulder and the other to hold my forearm. Then he fucked me. Hard.
I bit the inside of my cheek so painfully I was afraid I was going to make it bleed. How we remained any level of quiet I had no idea, though leaving his pants on certainly helped buffer the sound of our bodies slapping together.
His grunting grew more frantic, and I thought Pierce might be the one who was going to blow our cover. “Fuck!” he hissed after a few more pounding thrusts. He tightened his grip around my bicep and came. Then his body relaxed and he slumped over, kissing me everywhere—on my face, my shoulder, my back—before pulling out. I stood and straightened my skirt, then looked around for my underwear. Pierce grinned and held them up by a finger. I reached for them, but he shook his head and quietly slid them into his pants pocket.
Well… shit.
I ran my fingers through my long brown hair and shook it out, then I put my blazer back on while I watched Pierce dispose of the condom and then zip himself up. The man was certifiably going to be the death of me.
He said nothing, just wrapped me in his arms and held me for the longest time. I relaxed against his chest and let myself be held. It was a nice feeling to experience with Pierce after all the heat and intensity.
“Brynn, I need you to know something.”
“Hmm?” I said in a satisfied stupor. I felt like a cat being petted and loved on, and I wanted more.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Slept with someone who worked for me. Fucked someone in my office. Dated anyone I worked with.”
Dated?
It didn’t mean we were, it just meant he never had.
“I appreciate you telling me that.”
“I just didn’t want you to think this was my MO or something.”
I chuckled. “I was beginning to wonder. You seem to have this whole sneaking-sex-in-during-the-workday thing down pat.”
“I can’t help it, Brynn. You bring out the beast in me.”
“I like that,” I said, grinning.
“Yeah, I think you do,” he said into my hair as he nuzzled me. “I think you like that maybe a little too much.”
“Speaking of which,” I hinted, “are we still on for later?”
He laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I think you mean insatiable,” I said breathily.
He bent down to kiss me as I looked up at him. He nibbled my lower lip. “That too.”
“Am I ever going to get my underwear back?”
“Hell no,” he said with a laugh before he pulled back. “I’m going to take these out all day long and smell you, angel.”
“Christ, Pierce,” I said. “How am I going to concentrate thinking about that?”
“If I have to suffer a slow and torturous death, you do too.”
“Fine,” I said. “But when I have to play with myself in my office because my private parts are rubbing together all day, I’m going to text you the play by play.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Watch me.”
He grinned. “My perfect match,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Hey, before you leave, I actually do still need to talk with you about work. Have a few minutes?”
I checked my phone and nodded. We had about forty-five minutes until the “meeting” was supposed to be over. “What is it?” I asked. “Did you really want me to order you a small conference room table for in here?”
“I do, actually. I want you to pick one out that you want to be fucked on. That’s my only criteria.”
Sweet. Baby. Jesus.
“Come,” he said, grinning as he took my hand. “Let’s sit down and go over a few things. I have something to run by you.”
For the next thirty minutes we talked shop, and I was fascinated by the way Pierce’s brain worked and how much he seemed to know about the industry. His ambition was sexy as fuck, but sexier than that was the way he made connections beyond the editing arm of Sterling and Masters and could see th
e bigger publishing landscape and trends. It was nice to talk about work again with someone I was attracted to. It was something I missed after losing Nick. He understood the pressures that came with editing and publishing.
The only thing he hadn’t understood? How to be loyal.
Not with me, and certainly not with work.
“So, tell me some more about this opportunity you mentioned earlier,” Pierce said.
“Well, an old friend of mine works for Chance and Chambers Creative out of London. He represents Eve Donohue—”
“Whoa,” Pierce said.
“I know, right? Well, apparently, she’s created a new twelve-book contemporary romance series that her London publisher isn’t interested in. They want her to stay in her magical realms lane. I mean, I get it. It’s how people know her. It’s what made her millions. But that doesn’t mean she can’t write romance.”
“I understand the hesitancy, though. Does she want to use a pen name? Or is she willing to publish under Donohue?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m meeting with Noah Chance on Tuesday to hear the series pitch. He sent me the first book in the series—it’s based on the zodiac signs and how they play into the characters’ relationships.”
“Interesting. Do you buy in to all that stuff?”
I paused. “I do, actually.”
“What’s your sign?”
“Scorpio.”
“Which means what exactly?”
“Uh—the good traits or the bad?”
“There are no bad traits, Brynn. Every human needs all the quirks they were born with, to make them unique and complete. You can’t have nothing but sunshine and rainbows. There’s a reason that saying is a cliché. The light can’t shine without the contrast of the darkness.”
“I get that better than anyone,” I said. “I can be moody and stubborn. Ambitious and strategic. I crave depth and intelligence. None of this shallow shit for me. Let’s see. I’m loyal to a fault, until you cross me. Then I’m done. And when I’m done, I mean I’m done.
“I’m intuitive, observant, assertive, competitive, jealous. But I’m a good friend. And despite being emotional and deep, I also need a partner with a good sense of humor. Someone who can balance me out and make me laugh. Oh,” I said, batting my eyelashes at him, “and Scorpios are also known for their intense sensuality.”
