by Christa Wick
"A master's degree in data analytics and you take a job in the secretarial pool of a security company?"
I rested my head against the wall, the earlier tremble back and infecting my entire body. Slowly, he circled one arm around my waist, his palm flat against my stomach to contain or control me. His other hand gripped my hip a little tighter as he cinched me to him.
"Who are you really working for?"
"You." I released the word with a sob as I realized my panties had slowly soaked through. He had me face-forward in a corner, blindfolded, my job on the line, yet I was wet, so turned on that the muscles deep inside my pussy had started to flex and roll, my ass moving with them to cup and fondle his erection.
Building crush or not, this wasn't right, wasn't anything like me.
His palm slid over the curve of my stomach, coming to a stop just above my mound. I arched slightly, my ass pressing more insistently against his groin.
Clearly, my arousal was wasted on the man; his unwaveringly calm voice as he continued the interrogation proved this was nothing more than business.
"You lied, Mia. Spies and moles lie. You're not just working for me."
"Please." I couldn't stop the wiggle of my ass and I wasn't sure what I was pleading for—my job or his touch.
"I'm telling the truth. I omitted it because I couldn't get hired anywhere. I had no money left…"
"You also had six months of working here to come clean, a whole month of that time in this office." Voice hardening, he crushed me tightly between the corner walls and his body. "You sat in front of me and smiled, saying more education was on your agenda when I commented on your having only an associate's degree. You lied to my face and smiled, all beautiful and innocent."
I closed my eyes, fighting tears. In the month I had spent working around my elusive boss, one thing I did learn how just calculating he could be with the words he deployed. No matter how sincere he sounded, "beautiful" wasn't his actual opinion, but something he thought he could manipulate me with. It worked, if only to make me hate myself a little bit more knowing how most men viewed my body.
"Admit it, Mia."
He eased the hard press of his body against mine for a second, just long enough for me to relax before he increased the tension another notch. "You lied to my face."
Shame heated my skin. He wasn't wrong. I had rehearsed my interview answers for hours in front of the mirror, had practiced finding a fixed point on his face close enough to his eyes without actually having to stare into his all-knowing gaze. Now I was going to pay for it. I'd be fired, but only after he humiliated me to his satisfaction, ensuring that I was nothing more than a loser who couldn't get a job without lying instead of some kind of corporate or foreign agent.
"Please." I squirmed, trying simultaneously to move away from him and press closer to his body. I knew he intended to flip my buttons, but only to terrify me into admitting everything. Instead, he was flipping every damn switch I had.
Shame, fear and—more than anything—arousal coursed through me.
"I needed the job, needed to keep it." I argued. "I've done well, too."
"No shit."
It was the first time I'd heard him curse in front of me, ever, and I almost missed the change of tone in his voice. It had softened just the smallest fraction possible. And judging by his reaction, he was just as surprised by that turn of events as I was.
Clearing his throat, he instantly let go of me.
"Maybe you are telling me the truth."
I nodded frantically even though he likely couldn’t see me doing so in the dimly lit room. "I am. Please let me explain it better."
Collin made me wait through another long minute of silence while he considered my plea. His response, when it finally came, was the absolute last thing I expected to hear uttered from his lips.
"Drop your skirt, Mia."
2
Collin
Her freezing in shock, I fully expected.
The shiver and soft gasp, however, were a revelation.
"You have a very short timeframe in which to save your job, Mia. If you no longer want to, however, you’re free to go," I rumbled while ruthlessly pushing down a moment's guilt.
No damn way would I let her "explain it better." Her tone had changed. The spark of confidence seeping back in was just enough to wake her sharp mind from the haze I had induced. If I retreated, I might lose all ground.
Gently but firmly, I dragged Mia's hands down by her hips and rumbled once more into the delicate shell of her ear, this time with a bit more clarification I could see she needed. "I have to know I can trust you. That means bringing you to a point where you are incapable of lying."
That point was a screaming orgasm. Or ten if I had it my way.
"Take off your skirt or leave," I repeated the command, this time with my lips grazing the side of her neck.
She wobbled on unsteady legs, though not from fear. She was anxious, apprehensive over my questions, sure. But not afraid of me.
We both knew the blame for her wobbly gait could be attributed to the sexy open-toed pumps she had on, and sucked at walking in, quite frankly.
She had started the month in sensible flat-heeled shoes and skirts that fell mid-calf, their loose, voluminous folds hiding the soft, plentiful curves of her body. The blouses, too, had been all business that first week, not a hint of cleavage or even a forearm on display. By the end of week two, my mornings were getting a little brighter as her skirts got tighter and I had my first glimpse of the pale valley between her breasts.
That flash of skin propelled me to review the security archives. I noted the shift in clothing was a completely new development. Given the five month sample of her wardrobe, she hadn't dressed down for the interview or that first week.
I paid even closer attention to the footage from when she first started serving as my junior secretary. Instinct told me that the pretty little addition to my office hoped to catch someone's eye. I wanted to know the identity of the lucky man. But the cameras told me nothing. She was all business outside my office. There was no desk or cubicle she lingered at when running errands on my behalf.
I’d become obsessed with knowing the identity of the man she was dressing sexier for. It got to the point where I had my second-in-command, Trent Kane, start a file on her, find out everything there was to know about the voluptuous twenty-something with a first-class brain but only an associate's degree.
Truthfully, I hadn’t intended my command about her skirt to come out as an ultimatum. She could leave if she wanted. But second to finding out the truth, it was my goal to make sure she wanted to stay.
Eyes wide open.
And preferably, skirt fucking gone.
Whether she was a spy or a desperate job seeker who had left her last three years in college and two degrees off her resume, I’d get to the bottom of soon enough. Until I did, it was paramount that she didn’t run. I was still miles away from trusting her. But her deciding to stay, to see where this was heading would go a long way to that end.
Hell, the wait was killing me.
Eventually, slowly—so slowly it was driving me crazy—Mia started to comply with my command to lose the skirt.
She just had no idea how sexy she was at that moment, the tremble in her hands as she fought to unfasten the skirt, the slow, unintentional tease as she fumbled with the zipper or how she had to wiggle and dodge to get the close-fitting skirt down her full hips.
Blood rushed from my head to swell my cock as the skirt hit the floor.
"Step out and spread your legs."
She obeyed, slow and weak-kneed. Reaching forward, I fingered the edge of her panties, slid under the band then across the front to run a soft line down the center of her mound.
The soft moan humming from her throat was a shot of pure adrenaline unlike anything I’d experienced in a while. What the hell was it about this woman?
"Here’s what I need to figure out, Mia,” I explained as her body continued
to reveal how damn responsive she was. “Are you just a sexy liar I need to find a way to forgive? Or a very clever spy planted in my company by my enemies that I need to fucking fire on the spot?”
Exerting a little more pressure with my finger, I separated the thick, wet folds of her pussy. The soft, inner petals of her labia were hot to the touch, the liquid coating my finger like magma. As long as I could keep the rational part of her brain shut off like this, there would be only moans and soft pleas for more.
"If you are a spy, I have to say, my enemies have exquisite taste. Dark flowing hair. Those green eyes and a body lush with curves that make my mouth water.”
My fingers moved up, finding her swollen clit, a small spasm vibrating through her thighs at first touch. I slowly rubbed a line up and down its length, dipping once near the entrance to her pussy to find she had expelled a fresh burst of cream.
“But here’s the thing, Mia. You and I both know your clothes have been getting more form fitting by the day, your neckline a little lower, your heels a little higher…"
She tensed at the buried accusations, even as her pussy did a little dance, the inner labia pulling at my fingers as if they would draw me to her core.
With my gaze locked on the subtle dance of her body, I pressed on, needing some answers before she tempted me to not care one way or another. "Perhaps your plan was for me to find out about your resume all along… To bring us exactly here, where I’d be compelled to test you."
I wondered then if she could even hear me anymore. That lush ass I haven’t been able to stop thinking about was moving in sync with my hand now, angled up for the taking and just begging for me to worship it even as I punished it for everything I was accusing her of.
Hell, I wanted to sink to my knees, lick her pussy, capitulate to her need and just fucking work out the omission issue after I finally got a taste of her.
Luckily, there was still enough blood left in my brain not to give in to my base desires. Swallowing my lust, I stopped pussy-footing around. “Am I right, Mia? Did one of my enemies find a beautiful, desperate female smart and skilled enough to get herself locked in this room with me where I’d feel all this hot, twisting need sucking at my fingers and question whether I could trust her?"
Finding that her little trembles had stopped, I realized she had taken issue with what I’d just said, her rigid spine indicating she’d considered one or more of my words false. I didn't think she would deny "desperate." And she was a pretty little fool if she denied "beautiful."
But that was a puzzle for me to analyze later. Right now, all that mattered was that she was thinking again, and that meant I was about to lose my hold on her.
Abandoning her clit, I took her pussy three fingers deep. Tight, sopping, hot. My fingers felt like they would melt as I twisted and stroked and buried their entire length inside her.
Mesmerized, I watched the effect this was having on her luscious ass as she moved.
Damn it, I wanted my hands wrapped around that full bottom as I plumbed the depths of her pussy. Somehow though, I managed to repeat my question, and even squeeze out another one between barely the controlled urge to fuck her there and then in the corner.
"Is that it, Mia? Are you here to betray me?"
"No!” she burst out finally. “Please, you’ve got it all wrong, Mr. Stark."
Mr. Stark? To hell with that. The outraged, too-formal cry was the last thing I wanted to hear from her pretty lips when I was pleasuring her. In response, I pressed a little higher and harder inside her, working the base knuckle of my middle finger into her hot core.
"It's Collin when my fingers are in you," I rasped in her ear.
She made a surprised sound and said something, but with the blood pounding and thrumming inside my head, I couldn't hear her. Hell, I was losing patience for words altogether. I stepped all the way into her, my chest against her back, my hand lined up with my erection so that the roll and dip of my hips guided my fingers, added force to their thrusts until the moment I could have my cock in her or her body across my lap, that gorgeous ass up in the air.
"You know what, beautiful? You’ve gotten me so worked up, I don't even care what your answer is anymore. I'm just going to punish you for your lie and then I'm going to fuck you."
She moaned, the sound so full of surrender it made my muscles tense and my cock leak like a damn faucet. Clearly, she didn't care about the interrogation anymore, either. Her brain had obviously shut down completely. Her hot, clutching pussy guided her every response.
That made us even. I couldn't think, couldn't plan, couldn't process anything beyond her carnal reactions.
"You want this?" I demanded, my free hand surfed across her hip and around the front of her body to find and cup her plump mound. I pressed my teeth to her neck, denting the flesh to hide my own deep want.
When she moaned some incoherent reply, I doubled my attack, rubbing at her clit as my fingers fucked in and out of her pussy.
She wanted me in her, fucking her, even if she might not be ready to admit it.
I pressed my chest against her back as I pressed my lips to her neck. Proving my claims, she tightened around my shaft, her pulsing pussy pushing me to the edge of my restraint.
Finding the other side of her neck, I licked a line up to her ear as I pumped my hips against hers. "Are you close, Mia?"
Could she hear the moan locked in my throat, tell how raspy my voice had become or smell buried in the fabric that covered me the steady drip of pre-cum that had started the moment my fingers penetrated her?
Mia replied with a groaning "yes" and a grinding ass. The coiling tension inside her pussy told me she was right at the very edge.
I quickly pulled out, captured her wrists and held her hands above her head in case she was tempted to finish the job with her own fingers.
When she came, I wanted to be looking at her face.
"Please," she sobbed.
"Not yet, baby."
I waited until she stopped struggling to achieve orgasm. Then I threaded my fingers through her hair and led her to the couch. I turned a few more lights on to see her better, then sat down, dragging her with me and placing her across my lap.
Her underwear were an unwanted impediment. They went with a shriek of fabric. I studied the length of her plump but shapely legs—her ass bare with thigh high stockings and high heels below. I definitely wanted to see her like this again.
First, I had to know she was mine, not a competitor's or enemy's. Quickly, I stripped her blouse and bra before removing the blindfold to bind her wrists together with it.
"Collin…"
Damn it. Her tone had changed again, but I would not undo her wrists. I glared at her, letting the message sink in without using words to make it explicit. She was about to get her sweet ass disciplined. Parts of the experience would be extremely pleasurable...
Fuck, given the deeply buried need she was trying to hide, it would all be pleasurable. She was wet, her juices penetrating my pants to warm my thighs. I looked at her bottom, saw the way it wiggled and rolled. That alert and apprehensive tone would turn back to lust the second I put my hands on her.
I looked at her face to find her eyes closed and her tongue retreating inside her mouth. Her lips glistened as if she had just licked them. I shook my head. No way in hell would I allow her to hide from me, not after she had just licked her lips in anticipation, not when her pussy was wet and rolling like I knew it was.
"Don't close your eyes," I warned. "Look away from me and I'll make this go on longer."
She obeyed, her glistening lips beginning to quiver.
I rubbed my hand between her legs. "Your pussy is very wet, Mia. Burning hot to the touch and so soaked I could drink from you."
She blinked, fresh worry flitting across her expressive features—as if I might interpret that little reflexive blink as an act of mutiny. I tried to think of the last lover I had who was this naturally pliant and couldn't recall one face, one name. There were t
hose that liked it a little rough or commanding, but only to get the juices flowing, not throughout. And there were those false lovers who had guessed that a man controlling in business and in combat would carry that drive over to bedroom, but their little charades were quickly exposed.
"Has a lover ever slapped this sweet ass?" I asked as I continued to rub at her pussy. "Ever pushed you to your limits like that?"
"No," she whispered and rewarded me with a little twitch against my hand.
No experience, but as responsive as hell to all of it. Fuck. It was almost cruel making her wait when she needed it so badly—cruel to us both. Squeezing her warmed flesh, enough to soothe her but not tempt me beyond what I was capable of enduring, I then asked her the next thing I needed to know.
“How many lovers have you had, Mia? How many men have been inside you?” I did my best not to snarl the last question, though I only succeeded partially. My hold on her ass cheeks tightened as I waited her reply.
“Three,” she said softly.
I almost lost my grip on her lush body and sent her tumbling to the floor.
How the hell was that even possible? I’d have guessed dozens given her naturally sexy brand of beauty. Unable to help myself, I began tracing the opening to her sex, my senses savoring the way she pushed back and how her freshly aroused cream scented the air.
"Relationships or hook-ups?" I slid my thumb inside as I asked, my index finger on the outside against her clit so that I pinched the flesh between.
"Relationships."
Her answer came out clipped, sparking a small flare of jealousy inside my chest as I wondered if she was holding back. If Trent Kane, my second in command, had missed a current lover, I would take a pound of flesh from him for the lapse. I tightened my grip and watched her expression closely.
"Still in a relationship, still fucking someone with this tight little pussy?"
I accented the question with sharp, shallow tugs. I didn't mean to be so rough, but her hips jerked high and a keening moan struggled past her twisting lips.
