Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1

by Harley, Lisa M.

  Mr. Brittany

  Open the door.

  I brushed an invisible wrinkle from my skirt and rose slowly. I opened his office door behind me. Reclined in his leather chair with the phone to his ear, he didn’t look up. His tone was deep with authority as he spoke into the receiver. Unsure of what he wanted, I returned to my desk. The back of my neck tingled as I imagined him watching me from his seat. That feeling remained until I received another message.

  Mr. Brittany

  You forgot the comma.

  It took me a couple seconds before I gasped silently. My fingers curled into fists. He was right. I’d been so nervous about shortening the release, I’d forgotten to add the comma. A string of curses sounded in my head as I tried to formulate a response. I could still hear him on the phone, his words calm while my heart raced.

  Mr. Brittany

  Come in here so I can show you.

  I sighed and stood up. He’d shown me earlier. I didn’t need to see it again. But I entered the office anyway. When I passed through the doorway, he glanced up and met my gaze. His eyes were heavy, staring at me as though he’d never stop. Like there was nothing else in the world to look at. Something about that look slowed my steps so it was a few stretched moments until I reached him. I stood in that spot, waiting. He pulled out the press release from his pile.

  “Give it until tomorrow,” he said into the phone with his eyes still on me. “If it’s the same, place the order.” He nodded at the paper. I looked between it and his face. Finally, I bent over, resuming my earlier position.

  “And if it drops lower, buy double.” He hung up the phone without another word and looked at me. “Remember what I said earlier, Alexandra?”

  “Don’t bring it to you until it’s perfect.”

  “Is this perfect?”

  “No,” I said softly.

  “How do you suggest I handle this?”

  He stood suddenly, and my heart jumped up against my ribcage.

  “Fire me?” I suggested, my voice small.

  He chuckled and came around to my side of the desk. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

  “I guess?”

  “And I don’t think your dad would appreciate it. What are some other ways we can ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

  I made to straighten up and face him, but his hand touched my shoulder, keeping me there. With another step, his hips were within inches of mine.

  “Um . . .” I breathed heavier, my mind searching for a response. “Some kind of punishment,” I suggested. “Take away my lunch break?”

  “I’m not sure that’s incentive enough.”

  My eyes focused on the spot where the comma should be. “You could—”

  I yelped with surprise as his palm landed hard on my backside.

  “I—Dean, what—”

  “Mr. Brittany,” he said calmly and delivered another slap.

  I moved to leave, but his hand still secured me against the desk. He spanked me a third time, the smack resounding between my legs.

  “That one was for squirming,” he said. “Now, fix the comma, e-mail it to me, and you can go home.”

  I remained glued to the desk in stunned silence. My throat felt closed, disconnected from me. I urged myself to say something. My skin smarted slightly, just enough to keep his commands fresh. I righted myself and kept my eyes on the floor as I hurried back to my desk.

  My eyes blurred with tears as I fixed the document even though it hadn’t particularly hurt. His firm touch lingered on my shoulder; shock and embarrassment were red hot on my ass.

  On the drive home, I became incensed. I would tell Dad, and he’d handle this. Perhaps with a lawsuit or public shaming to all of their mutual friends. Hell, maybe even the press would be interested in hearing about the kinky bastard behind Brittany Industries. Certainly I wasn’t returning to that office again—ever.

  Back in my dorm, I found my cell phone in my purse and dialed my dad immediately.

  “Hi, Sunshine,” he said. “How was work?”

  “It was—you wouldn’t believe . . .”

  “That bad, huh? Dean hasn’t eased up at all?”

  Silence descended on the line as I grasped for a response. How could I tell Dad his precious Sunshine had just been spanked by his best friend? And for something so ridiculous? “Um, not really.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and played that conversation in my head. My ass throbbed once at the memory of Dean’s office. I squirmed in my chair. And . . . there was my beautiful, gold dress. “It’s okay,” I said, surprising myself. “It’s only a week. I’ll handle it myself.”

  “Proud of you,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice. “You’ve got this.”

  I went to bed early, still unsure of how to handle the situation. What he’d done was so basely wrong that I couldn’t help wondering what made him believe he’d get away with it. I touched my backside. Any indication of my punishment was completely gone. Was it a one-time thing? Did he treat his other employees that way? I pictured June in my position on the desk, her large breasts squished against the surface. I frowned—surely she wasn’t his type. It wasn’t until I was drifting asleep that I realized I hadn’t thought of Trey in hours.

  Chapter Four

  In the elevator, I tugged on the hem of my new blazer and squared my shoulders. I had no idea what I’d say to Dean, but I couldn’t just let this go. Today he’d be embarrassed and apologize. I doubted he’d feel the same once he’d taken the night to consider what a sexual harassment suit could do to his company.

  As soon as I’d set my purse down, he called for me from behind his closed door. I entered without knocking, and when he looked up, my eyes narrowed. Instead of shame, amusement etched his features. The cocky half-smile on his face was a slap in the face, but it heated my skin. His smirk was—I heard June’s crass declaration in my mind: “I’d fuck him.” His smirk was somehow sexy.

  “I expected a call from your dad last night,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “And you returned.”

  “Only to tell you how wrong it—that was.” I took a step farther into the office and raised my chin. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Because that’s completely inappropriate for the workplace.”

  “Then you’d be okay with it outside the office?”

  “What? No,” I snapped, flushing red. “That’s not what I meant. Why would I want you to–to do that to me? Ever?”

  His face twisted as he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a grin. “Come over here,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Leaving?” I repeated. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

  “So until you decide, you still work for me?”

  I glanced at his hand resting on the arm of his chair and then back at his eyes. “I guess,” I said quietly.

  “Then,” he said, pausing before delivering his words slowly, “get over here.”

  My fingers twisted in front of me. No dress was worth this humiliation, but I was walking around the desk, stopping beside his chair. He stood in one fluid motion, dwarfing me instantly and drawing my eyes upward.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you’re wearing the same skirt.”

  “I don’t have much to choose from,” I said. “I wasn’t going to blow all my money on a new wardrobe for one week.”

  “I’m not complaining. It’s better than those hideous pants you wore yesterday before the coffee got to them.”

  My jaw set. “You can’t speak to me that way.”

  “By the way, I’m forty-eight,” he said with raised eyebrows.

  “What?” I ask, trying to sound as angry as I felt.

  “Not fifty.”

  Realization burnt a quick course through my body. He’d heard my conversation in
the break room. We’d all giggled, but Dean didn’t look the least bit amused. My face felt the brightest shade of red.

  “You think people my age don’t fuck?” he asked.

  I gasped, almost choking at the word.

  He grabbed my hand roughly and brought it to the front of his pants. My palm pressed into the solid hardness that strained against his zipper.

  “We do,” he said. “Is that enough evidence for you, Alexandra?”

  My mouth opened and closed, my hand trembled. He slid it up so I felt the ridges of his crown through the fabric.

  “I’m not . . . I can’t do this.”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” he said. His smile was too easy. When he released my hand, it seemed suddenly ice cold.

  “Does Grace do this for you?” I whispered.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “No. Nobody does anything for me, Alex. I have a strict rule against office relations.”

  “Oh.”

  “I spanked you last night because I wanted to. Because it made me horny as hell, and it was everything I had not to tear off that tight skirt and take you right there.”

  My mouth was hanging open, but I couldn’t seem to close it. I glanced down at the skirt and back up. My brain struggled, and all I could think was that it’d taken Trey close to two months to ask me out, and another couple weeks to make a move.

  “Fortunately,” Dean said, “I remembered the many reasons that could never happen.”

  I snapped my jaw shut. My gaze fell from his eyes to his lips. The word sexy sizzled in my mind, and I realized it had been doing just that since June said it in the break room. “Because of your office policy?” I asked, trying to seem casual.

  “You’re off limits. Aside from the fact that you work for me, your father’s my good friend. And even if he weren’t, you’re just a girl.”

  “A girl? But you would—you want that? With me?”

  He blinked lazily and smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t touch you.”

  “You just did.”

  “Only to prove a point. I can’t have you out there spreading rumors that I can’t get it up.”

  I pursed my lips. “So if I stay—you don’t expect me to . . . ”

  “No. But you’re a beautiful girl, Alexandra. I can’t promise I won’t fantasize about you. Sometimes,” he said, “when you’re right in front of me.”

  His words delivered a sharp but warm tingle deep in my stomach. He licked his lips. Was he thinking about me now?

  “If that doesn’t bother you, stay the rest of the week. If it does . . .” He paused, gesturing to the door. “I’ll still give you your money so you can get your dress.”

  “I don’t need your money,” I said quickly, backing away.

  “You’re smarter than that,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Take the money. But this is the only time I’ll offer it. If you don’t leave now, then you have to finish out the week. Otherwise I won’t pay you a dime.”

  I swallowed. “I’ll clear out my desk.”

  A deep chuckle was all I heard as I turned my back. On the other side of the door, I sat staring at nothing. There was no anger bubbling inside me even though I thought there should be—only confusion. Dean had always been intriguing, but I only now realized it. And yes—sexy. But how could I stay? I put my head in my hands, and my elbow nudged the mouse. The computer screen came to life. Microsoft Outlook brimmed with unread e-mails. Checking over my shoulder once, I quickly opened the top one and responded before moving to the next one.

  I didn’t stop until the door squeaked open behind me. “You’re still here.”

  I blinked at the screen, squinting at the time in the corner. It had been two hours since I’d declared I was leaving.

  “It’s only for the week,” Dean said. I looked up at him. “And it’s already Wednesday. If you want to stay, stay. Don’t overthink it. Either way, Chinese for lunch. If you’re leaving, tell June on your way out.”

  He shut the door, and I looked back at the computer screen. I told myself I was going. I even packed up my purse and set it on the desk. But Dean’s hand slapping against my ass made something bloom between my legs. And his dick—it was nothing like Trey’s. I could still feel it, hard, thick, even pleading against my palm. He said he’d keep his hands to himself. Just a fantasy—me, as someone else’s fantasy. I put my purse back under my desk.

  Trey’s face when he saw me in my gold dress would be worth everything. I’d never accept Dean’s money without doing the work, so I made the decision to stay. Things were already uncomfortable; how much worse could they get?

  Chapter Five

  It wasn’t until five o’clock on the dot that I heard anything from Dean again. That didn’t mean I hadn’t been thinking of him though, just inside that office, possibly thinking of me too.

  Mr. Brittany

  I need you to stay late. Cancel your plans.

  Admin

  I had no plans.

  Mr. Brittany

  Even better. Open the door. I like to watch you work.

  I hesitated but reminded myself that my chance to leave had passed. I did as he said, but he was so focused on his computer that he didn’t seem to notice. I took my seat again, brushing my long hair over my shoulders. My back was straighter than ever. I continued working, but with each tap of my fingers against the keyboard, my thoughts grew louder. I sensed his eyes on me. Or, I wanted them there. Watching. Imagining. Feeling me without touching. I swallowed dryly, warm in a way I wasn’t used to. I was glad for the distraction when he forwarded me instructions on an urgent project. After forty minutes, his name appeared on the screen.

  Mr. Brittany

  Blackthorne file

  The office was dark and empty except for our corner. The file room buzzed to life when I switched on its fluorescent lights. I searched, pulling open the heavy drawer marked “A, B, C”. On my way back, I tripped over a snag in the carpet and papers flew out of the file in my hand.

  I cursed under my breath, getting on my knees to gather up the mess.

  As I grasped the last sheet, Dean’s voice came from the office through the open door. “Bring me the file.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” I said.

  “Just like that.”

  I glanced up and met his eyes, darkened into an unnatural indigo. “What?”

  “Bring it to me on your knees.”

  My mind chose that moment to conjure up the image of my friends, probably basking in Mexico’s hot sun, flirting with people their age, and sipping Piña Coladas. Would they laugh if they saw me now? Tease me? I didn’t think it was so funny. In fact, my thighs trembled under Dean’s—no, Mr. Brittany’s—unrelenting gaze.

  I clutched the file in my hand.

  “Put it down your skirt,” he said.

  I tucked it into my waistband and waited.

  “Now,” he said, “just crawl.”

  I fell forward onto my hands. My palms and knees scratched against the carpet as I went to him. I crept slowly, drawn in by his beckoning eyes. The papers crinkled against my stomach, the file folder’s edges poking into my blouse.

  “When I get home, I’m going to think of you this way,” he said evenly, talking to my breasts, which swung in my button-down as I advanced. “Except, in my fantasy, I’d get up and walk over to you. I’d pull up your skirt and take you from behind.”

  I stopped in my tracks. I wanted to tell him he could, but my mouth felt dry, my heart sped. He didn’t give me the chance anyway.

  “When I was close, I’d pull out and come all over your ass.”

  I inhaled sharply.

  “Has anybody ever come on you before, Alexandra?”

  I shook my head and continued across the floor, closing in on his desk.

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Want you to what?” I asked.

  “Come on you.”

  My ch
est vibrated now with the force of my heartbeat. I shook my head, because I couldn’t think of anything more degrading. I wouldn’t even let Trey ejaculate in my mouth. When I reached his seat, I remained on my hands and knees, waiting.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  My eyes fell to his pant leg. “He dumped me.”

  “Look at me.” He sat back in his chair, assessing me with astute eyes. “How come?”

  “He said he didn’t want a girlfriend anymore.”

  “I thought you wanted the dress for the formal.”

  “His frat brother is taking me as a favor. The dress is . . .”

  “I see. Is the frat brother trying to screw you?”

  “No,” I exclaimed. “It’s just so Trey will see me at the formal and want me back.”

  “Have you slept with anyone else?”

  “Just Trey.”

  “Did you suck him off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you good at it?”

  My eyelashes fluttered, and I shifted on my knees. “I’m not sure.”

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come?”

  “The Little Mermaid.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You took Vivian and me once. To see it. They had a special matinee viewing in the theater when we were younger.”

  “I remember. And that makes you uncomfortable because now I want to fuck you.”

  My heart leaped into my throat as I stared at him.

  “That’s right. I want to bury myself in your sweet, eighteen-year-old pussy. I haven’t been able to think of anything else all day.” He glanced behind me; my hips were wiggling. “Does that turn you on?”

  “Yes,” I admitted quietly.

  “If you have any doubt about a man my age, I’ll tell you this: anything you let that boy do to you, I’ve already perfected.”

  A rush of warmth made my body feel heavy as I sat, poised, still staring up at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m not going to touch you. Just know I’ll be thinking of you in this exact position when I jerk off later.”