The thought of that weighty cock in his hand almost bowled me over. I might’ve fallen at his feet if not for his next command.
“Give me the file.”
I sat back on my calves and slipped the papers from my waistband.
“Alexandra?”
“Yes?”
“Since I can’t touch you, tell me one thing.”
“Okay.”
“How does it feel?”
My brows gathered. “What?”
“Just put your hand between your legs, and tell me how it feels.”
I gulped through my panic. Could I do this? Was I sure the office was empty—and why was that my main concern? I spread my knees wider. He was patient, watching until my hand bunched up my skirt just enough to slip under. I was sensitive, slightly swollen even. “It feels . . . good,” I said.
“No. I mean, tell me how your panties feel.”
“They’re soft.”
“What else?”
“A little . . . damp, I guess.”
“Christ. What color?”
I searched my memory. “Pink. It’s a thong from Victoria’s Secret.”
“How do you feel? Inside of them?”
I swallowed. No way I would touch myself here in this office. I already felt weird with my hand under my skirt. I shifted them aside fractionally. My body wanted more, but I ignored it and ran a gentle finger over myself. “Also soft and damp,” I said quietly. “And also . . . pink.”
“Fuck.” He grunted and put his hand over the crotch of his pants. “That’s enough. You’re dismissed.”
I remained still, trying not to look at the bulge under his hand. “Dismissed? Maybe—”
“Go.”
Before I even stood, he’d returned his attention to his computer. I didn’t know how he could be so casual when in my eyes, the Earth had just tilted on its axis. My entire body felt like an exposed nerve aching for his soothing touch. My heart pounded all the way down the elevator. I slid into the front seat of my car, unable to think of anything other than Mr. Brittany taking me from behind.
Chapter Six
I arrived an hour early the next day, and by the time Dean strode off the elevator, I had hot coffee waiting on his desk. I smiled, but his answering nod was short.
The next few hours, I glanced up every time he passed my desk, but he never returned my look. By early evening, I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined it all or if I’d done something wrong—or even something to lose his interest.
For me, it was the opposite. It was as if he’d flipped me on like a light switch but forgotten to turn me off. Finally, I got the message I hadn’t realized I’d been hoping for.
Mr. Brittany
Do you have your cell on you?
Admin
Yes.
Mr. Brittany
Go to the bathroom. Finger yourself. Record it. Bring it to me. No less than two fingers.
I blinked repeatedly at the screen and then around the office. There was only the melodic, ubiquitous tap of fingertips against keyboards.
Mr. Brittany
Hurry. I’m especially impatient today.
I stood quickly from my desk, grabbing my purse. I had no idea how he knew I was still sitting there since the door was closed. I made my way to the bathroom with my eyes down. Inside, I locked myself into a stall and hung my purse on the hook. I glanced around furtively before pulling up my new dress. My grey slacks were still a crumpled pile in my car from Tuesday.
I located my cell and set it up to record. Awkwardly, I held it just near my underwear and let my other hand explore. I hooked my fingers into my thong and pulled it down around my thighs. I teased myself, and when I was warm and wet, slipped a finger inside. Remembering his message, I immediately added another finger. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise.
When the door opened, I froze, two fingers deep inside myself and my insides tight and aching. I almost told them to get out, wanting nothing more than to chase my orgasm. To keep it from slipping away, I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined Dean spanking me over his desk, fully clothed as he made me stare at the paper’s red marks. As soon as I was alone again, I plunged my fingers deeper—searching, massaging, until I came. My heavy breathing was the only sound echoing in the bathroom. I hit the stop button and fixed my dress before returning to my desk.
“Come in,” he said when I knocked.
I entered the office. For the first time, he turned his body from the computer and gave me his full attention. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes,” I said, showing him the cell phone.
He glanced at it and back at me. “Two fingers?”
“Yes.”
“I was right about you. You do follow direction well.” He nodded his head once so I walked toward him. “God, how I’d like to taste you,” he said.
“Taste me?” I asked, confused. “Like, kiss me?”
“No.” I followed his eyes and realized he’d been looking at my hand, not my cell. He took the phone from me, but my hand remained suspended in the air. I opened it for him. I couldn’t believe what I was offering, but that didn’t stop me. He shook his head. “No touching. Do it for me.”
I crinkled my nose. “I don’t know . . .”
His expression remained as stern as his back was straight. After a moment I touched the pad of my finger to the tip of my tongue.
“Both,” he said in an unusually soft voice.
I put the fingers I’d used to masturbate in my mouth and sucked. He looked momentarily gone as he watched, but then I lost his attention to the video. He watched it intently, his eyes narrowing, his head cocking.
“Don’t you shave?”
“No,” I said and after a beat, added, “Trey wanted me to, but I prefer to trim.”
“It’s perfect,” he said. Shock kept me silent.
He looked back at my face and set the phone down, even though the video wasn’t over. His eyes were assessing, almost as if seeing me for the first time. My soft moans surrounded us as we stared at each other. They grew louder, more insistent. I didn’t remember moaning that way, and as they filled the office, my core grew hotter with the throbbing between my legs.
“I thought about you,” I said, my voice unintentionally husky.
“I know.”
I bunched the fabric of my skirt in two fists. “I think I might . . . want this.”
“I know that too.”
“How? How do you know?”
He stood slowly, speaking, but I barely heard a thing. My ears were loud with the rush of arousal in my system. His jaw flexed while his nostrils flared.
“What?” I asked.
“I said, ‘Have a nice evening.’”
“Evening?” I repeated. “I didn’t finish my project.”
“You can finish it tomorrow.”
His face was stoic, but I caught the surprise in his eyes when I stepped closer. “I thought it was urgent.”
“It is urgent. But I have an event tonight, and I’m late to pick up my date.”
I instantly took a step back. “What?”
“For the third time, have a nice evening,” he said, turning away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I snatched my phone from his desk. “I’m taking my video with me.”
“That’s fine.” He pulled open the door to what looked like a closet. “I’m finished with it.”
I had no choice but to leave, and I was scowling as I did it.
Chapter Seven
Dean cleared his throat, and my head snapped up in surprise. “You’re here early,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“My special project pushed back the rest of my to-do list. Since it’s my last day, I figured I’d better get an early start.”
He raised an eyebrow, pleased. “You really want that dress, don’t you?”
I looked away.
“That’s not it,” he said thoughtfully. “All this for a boy.” He leaned in when my eyes drifted up to h
is again. “To let you go, this boy must not be very smart. And frankly, I don’t like the idea of you dating someone who’s not very smart.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Thank you, Mr. Brittany.”
“On the bright side, you only have to call me that until tonight,” he said.
He walked past me into his office, and my smile fell a little. His cologne lingered for minutes after he’d left. I pulled out my cell phone and swiped through some photos of my short relationship with Trey. I stopped on one of us at Lake Havasu, me in my bikini, waving my beer at the camera. Trey was shirtless, smiling big, his baseball cap backwards. I glanced behind me at Dean’s closed door. They were certainly different. Dean seemed to be twice Trey’s size. That’s because he’s here, now, in front of me. I shook my head and put the phone away.
By noon I was putting the finishing touches on some basic website copy. I checked it for the third time, pleased with the final product. As I went to send it, I paused. I reopened Word, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip, and deleted a comma. Before I lost my nerve, I reattached the document and mailed it. I let out the breath I’d been holding.
After twenty minutes, he called for me. “Alexandra? Can I see you?”
I stood and entered his office, closing the door behind me.
“I didn’t tell you to shut the door.” He leaned back in his large chair and spoke again before I could make any move. “You seem to have some trouble with comma usage.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Brittany.”
“How sorry?”
“Very sorry. It was careless.”
“Indeed it was. I’ve run out of ideas to demonstrate how I feel about mistakes.”
I wrung my fingers together. “You could . . . do what you did before?”
“Except, it doesn’t seem that was very effective.”
I nodded earnestly. “It was.”
“There’s also the issue of no touching.”
I stepped forward hesitantly. When he didn’t stop me, I continued up to the desk, bending over it with my elbows in position. “You don’t have to touch me to spank me,” I said.
His eyes fell to my cleavage. Without removing them, he reached out to open his top desk drawer. “What a little devil you’ve become,” he murmured as he rummaged through the drawer’s contents. When he found what he was looking for, he stood. There was a slapping noise, and I turned my head. His hand curled around a wooden ruler as he tapped it against his open palm. He came so close, I could only feel his body heat. As he raised the ruler, I said, “Wait.”
“It’s too late for wait,” he said.
I reached back and lifted my skirt over my ass, pulling it around my waist.
I could hear his inhale behind me. “Alex—”
“Now I’m ready.”
It wasn’t a second before the ruler stung my backside. I moaned, my fingernails curling into my palms.
I started when the ruler landed a second time. “What was that one for?” I asked.
“For telling me to wait.” The wood came down hard against my ass cheek again. “And that’s for talking back.”
I spread my legs slightly to ease the pain, and he smacked me once more. “That’s for teasing me. I don’t do teasing, Alexandra. I’m used to getting exactly what I want.”
I turned my head over my shoulder and bit my lip. “Are you saying you want me?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“It’s a shame you can’t have me then,” I said. I slid down the desk, away from him.
He took a step, but I shook my head. “No, Mr. Brittany.”
“You’re telling me no?”
I nodded. “No touching.”
I rested my cheek against the wood desk and blinked up at him. His eyes shifted when I lowered my hand between my legs.
“Alexandra . . .”
I bit my lip and moved my thong aside. “It really is a shame,” I said. “Because just the thought is—it’s making me . . .”
“Wet?” he finished.
“I want you too.”
“You do?”
I lifted my head because he sounded surprised. My heart began to pound. “I-I . . . well, I thought—”
He stepped around me and leaned forward, placing his hands on both sides of my head. He still didn’t touch me. “This week has been torture,” he said.
I clenched my teeth. “Nobody has to know,” I whispered.
“I can’t. It’s wrong.”
Before he could say another word, I began rubbing myself underneath him. I moaned against the desk. “I want you,” I said. “I want it to be your fingers.”
He lowered his mouth to my ear. “Do you know how sexy you are? Touching yourself like this?”
“If I were yours—”
“If you were mine, I’d drop on my knees right now and eat your pussy like it was my last meal.”
I gasped. His words alone had me thrusting my hips against my own palm.
“That’s good, Alexandra. I want to watch you come. Can you picture me fucking you right now?”
“Yes,” I said.
I froze at a knock on the door.
“Don’t stop,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
His heat lit up my skin. His voice echoed in my ears, the deepest thing I’d ever heard.
“What is it?” he called out.
June’s voice came from behind the door. “Where’s Alex? She’s not supposed to leave your desk. Your phone’s been ringing.”
“I sent her on an errand,” he snapped. “Just take messages for her.”
My other hand shot out and gripped the opposite lip of the desk. I pulled myself harder against my hand.
“Fuck,” he whispered. I could sense him just behind my ass, and I wanted nothing more than to push back against him. So I did.
He groaned, grabbed my hips roughly to pull me back into him again, and then let go like they were on fire.
“Dean,” I begged.
“I told you I’d fantasize about you. Right before I promised you—and myself—that I wouldn’t touch you.”
“I need it. I’ve never felt this . . . this—”
“Goddamn it.” I heard the clink of his belt. “Hold on to the desk, Alexandra,” he said. “You’re about to get fucked.”
He pushed my hand aside and plunged a finger in me as me as I cried out. His zipper hissed, and he fingered me harder. I latched both hands onto the edge of the desk so I was stretched across it. “Oh, God. Dean.”
His fingers withdrew, and he slapped my ass cheek.
“M-Mr. Brittany,” I corrected.
The head of his cock pressed against my opening. I wanted to look, to watch his domination of my body, but he placed a hand in the center of my back and pinned me down.
“I tried, Alex, I did. But you love to tease me, don’t you?”
“No,” I whimpered.
One strong thrust filled me with his cock and jolted me into the desk. His hand dug into my back, holding me in place as his hips drew back and collided into me again. Within seconds he was fucking me fast and rough, completely different than Trey ever did. There was confidence in his every move, like he knew I wouldn’t break no matter how hard he gave it to me.
He closed over my back, his breath hot near my ear. One of his hands gripped the desk right next to mine and his other moved my hair.
“So I can watch your face as you come,” he said, pounding me. “The way you’re biting your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, gasping harder the deeper I go—God, you’re fucking sexy.”
My knuckles whitened.
“Come,” he said.
My teeth were dangerously close to breaking the skin of my lip. I was close, almost there, but I couldn’t seem to catch my orgasm.
His heat left my back as he smacked me twice as hard as earlier. “I said come, Alexandra,” he demanded.
The burn of his slap spread like wildfire throughout me. I convulsed, coming with a fervor
I’d never experienced. Even after I’d finished, my body quaked with aftershocks.
He pulled out suddenly, but I lay deflated against the desk.
“Get up,” he said.
My arms were shaky as I hoisted myself up. He walked around the desk and sat in his leather chair.
“Come over here.”
I followed. His pants were barely undone so just his cock, wet from my pussy, was visible. “On your knees and suck,” he said.
I blinked, but my body seemed to be in his command, not mine. I felt small and uncertain at his feet, having only ever blown Trey—and I could see now that this was entirely different. I tested him by licking just the crown, and he groaned up at the ceiling. One of his hands curled around the arm of his chair. His other hand threaded in my hair and pulled. I closed my lips over him and took him to the back of my throat, but I still couldn’t reach the base. My hand wrapped around his base, my tongue making its way up and down his shaft.
The phone buzzed somewhere in the background.
“Mr. Brittany?” June said through the speakerphone.
My head snapped up when he answered, “Yes?”
I gasped, and he shushed me silently.
“I have a Mr. James on the line for you.”
My eyes widened so fast, I thought they’d pop out of their sockets.
He smiled slowly, his eyes amused. “Put him through.”
“Dean—!”
He grabbed his cock and pushed it against my lips. I opened my mouth instinctively, and his other hand urged my head down.
“Gary,” Dean said coolly. “To what do I owe the—pleasure?”
“Hey, Dean. Just calling to thank you for helping us out with Alexandra this week. I know you’ve been giving it to her tough, but I think it’s been good for her.”
Dean’s hand in my hair controlled my head, gently but firmly. My mouth glided over his hardness, and I could already feel myself getting wet again.
“I must say I’m impressed with your daughter,” Dean said. “She’s much more driven than I realized. Hardworking too. Not one job I gave her went unfinished.”
Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1 Page 34
