Filthy Boss

by Penny Wylder

  "Not until you tell me to, Sir."

  He slides another finger inside me, and I feel his lips against my neck. I force my eyes open and take in the feeling of pleasure and vertigo. His hand starts to move faster, and his other arm locks around me pinning me in place. His thumb is circling my clit in time with his fingers, and sparks flare in my body with every touch.

  My breath comes in gasps, and I feel that ball of pleasure building deep inside. "Sir." I say.

  "No." He responds. He knows what I'm asking. Instead he moves faster, fucking me with his fingers until I'm breathless. My whole body is shaking, and I think I'm making some kind of noise, I'm not sure. Nothing exists outside of his fingers touching me, and my body waiting for his command.

  His lips press against my ear, and he says it so softly. "Come."

  He presses down on my clit and the pleasure bursts outward. I'm gasping and blind, riding his hand, staying still entirely forgotten. Every part of me is consumed with pleasure, a super nova.

  His hand slows down, softly caressing, making me jump with every sensitive touch. "Turn around." He says, and he kisses me when I do, pressing me back against the window. "You are so beautiful when you come. Especially when you come for me. Luckily, our lunch hour is far from over."

  His pants are already undone, and I'm close to coming again when he slides into me.

  "Alyssa?"

  I jump in my chair. Charles is standing at the door. I place a hand on my chest—my heart is pounding. "Mr. Saxon, I'm sorry. I must not have heard you call." I minimize the website on my computer, trying not to think about the close call.

  "I didn't call, I needed to bring you this." He hands me a flash drive. "I was hoping I could ask you to run an errand. I know it's not the norm."

  I smile at him, relieved that he didn't notice that my absentmindedness was anything more than that. "Of course, what do you need?"

  "The investors from Heely International need to move their meeting to early tomorrow. I need the presentation boards for the hotel done over night. There's a shop near my apartment that will do it for me, and I can pick them up in the morning. I have a call now, so I can't take them myself."

  "Sure thing," I nod, "You have all the specifications?"

  He scribbles down the dress on one of my post its. "I'll send you an email with everything while you're on the way. Take a cab and we'll reimburse you." I look at the address and see that it's across town.

  "Tell them I sent you." Charles says as I'm grabbing my bag and the sticky with the address. "Oh, and Alyssa? Take the cab home when you're finished. It's close enough to the end of the day. Thanks for doing this."

  I laugh, "It's not a problem. Really. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Chapter 4.

  Charles

  Investors are a pain in my ass. So is Robert Jenkins. So, it seems, is everyone else in the world today. Except Alyssa. She is always lovely no matter what she's doing. I make a mental note to send her a gift for doing the job of a messenger. But those presentation materials are too important to trust to a messenger. If everything goes well tomorrow, we might have our first international hotel.

  I think about the bottle of wine I'd been saving for just this milestone. Hopefully in the near future I'll get to drink it. Maybe, eventually, I'll get Alyssa to toast with me.

  There she was again. No matter what I did this week she was never far from my thoughts. I had given in to my fantasy about her more than once the night of the party. While I was showering, while I was in bed...

  Every time I asked her to do something in the office I thought about what it might be like for me to tell her to do something else. I imagined her choosing to obey my every word. The results of that thought were luckily hidden by my desk. I'd had to sit more than usual this week, given the fact that I got hard at the mere sight of her now.

  But she wanted professionalism. She was flushed earlier when I had spoken to her, almost like she was embarrassed. The darker corner of my mind said it could be a different kind of flush. Something a little more provocative.

  Which was ridiculous.

  Wasn't it?

  I had seen her close something on her computer before I gave her the flash drive. The thought pops into my head before I can stop it—she's gone for the day. I sent her home. I shouldn't look. I should not look.

  I'm not sure why I'm moving towards the door, but it seems my body has already made the decision for me. The rational part of me knows that this is a breach of privacy. However, the rational part of me is also aware that it is not currently the one in control.

  I take a look around the floor to make sure no one is heading in my direction. The rational part of me agrees that I shouldn't get caught looking at something risqué on my assistant's computer. If there is anything risqué.

  I move the mouse and the screen pops up to her desktop. Along the bottom, there is a single tab. Knowing it's the stupidest thing I've ever done—and that includes ice dancing lessons—I click on it. The page is a deep burgundy, and the top is decorated in gold scrolling lettering 'Tantalize'. Then, in smaller letters, 'Where fantasies come to life.'

  On the screen is an open writing box, and it looks unfinished. I scroll back and read the beginning. I think my jaw drops open, but I'm not entirely sure because as far as I'm aware there's no blood in my head any more. I expected something dirty, but I didn't expect her to be writing it. And I didn't expect it to be...this. This is everything I had wanted.

  A burst of desire rolls through me, and I grip the edge of the desk. I look at the screen name. AlysInWonderland. Before anyone can see I black out the screen and go back into my office, and just like the first line of her story said, I lock the door.

  I quickly pull up the website on my phone and search for her name. Half a dozen stories pop up. I click on the first one and skim through it. He tells me to kneel down, and so I do, a thrill going through me at the thought of being at his command. I go back and click the next one. "Touch yourself," he says, "I'm going to watch, and then you're going to watch me." And the next. I place my hands on the desk and wait for him to life my skirt and take me. I'm prepared to wait. He like to take his time.

  It's completely impossible to ignore the fact that my dick is, if possible, the hardest I've been in my life. Every one of these stories is a power play between a secretary and her boss. He gives a command, she does it without question. Alyssa...and me.

  I sit in my office and think about nothing. About cacti and baseball and prunes and anything and everything to get my dick under control before I leave. Because I'm going home. My fantasies be damned. Tonight I'm going to read hers. And tomorrow I'm going to see how professional she really wants it to be.

  Chapter 5.

  Alyssa

  Whoever would have though that Thursday traffic is the worst of the week? It seems to be that way here, or at least it was this week and last week. Maybe everyone is over eager to get to work because more than half of the week is over? I don't know. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that I am fifteen minutes late.

  I hate being late.

  I hustle through the lobby and of course today is the day that the elevators take forever. Why is everything against me today? I bolt out of the elevators and try to sprint-while-walking as much as I can. Charles' office is all the way in the back corner of the building. It's the perfect office for a CEO, it's a nightmare for a late employee.

  An employee whose boss isn't even in yet.

  I bite my lip in an effort to contain my frustration. I put myself through all that, and he's not even here. Of course he's not, he's meeting his Heely International at the hotel downtown. So, it turns out I'm a total airhead after all. My mother was right.

  I flop down at my desk, thoroughly annoyed that I put myself through all that anxiety for nothing. Even if he had been here, Charles hasn't given me any reason to believe he'd be angry about it. He's been a great boss so far, unlike my last one who could never let the small things go. There's a messa
ge blinking on my phone, and I dial my voicemail while tapping my mouse to wake up my computer.

  I completely fail to hear whatever the message says, because Tantalize is still on my screen. Oh. My. God.

  The message can wait. I could have sworn that I closed this. Maybe I didn't. Did I remember to turn off the screen before I left yesterday? Did someone see? Did Charles see?

  Heat rises to my cheeks and my heart picks up it's pace.

  No. It's fine. I'm sure the screensaver kicked on a few minutes after I left. No one would have a reason to look on my computer while I'm not here. I look at Tantalize's oversized and brazen logo and mentally curse it out using every swear word I know. If someone had seen there wouldn't be any doubt what I had been doing. While at work.

  I'm going to get fired.

  I save the story to my profile to be finished later (Even if I get fired that story could come in handy later), and close the window. No more fantasies at work. It can't happen. The water in my bottle in my small fridge gets drained immediately and I have to go to the kitchen for more. Why is it suddenly so hot in this building?

  I seriously need to calm down. Someone should slap me like they do to all those women having hysterics in movies. But would that really help?

  I don't know, but the water does. I go back to my desk, and listen to the message again. It's from accounting. They need to speak to him when he comes in today. I make a note.

  I call Mr. Jenkins' office and leave a message—it's still early in Seattle. Then I throw myself into my work. I will not think about what might have happened. I will not fantasize about my boss. I will not think about sex at all. From now on I'm a puritanical virgin. I am a nun. Yep.

  I will not think about it.

  Dammit. This is hard. No pun intended.

  ***

  By the time Charles makes it into the office a little before noon I've gotten a hold on myself. Mostly. I had a couple of moments where I allowed myself to think about how bad it would be if someone caught me writing porn at work, but I was mostly okay.

  I get a jolt of adrenaline when I see him coming down the hall, and I grab his messages. "Good morning, Mr. Saxon. How did the presentation go?" See? You sound fine. Totally professional. Cool.

  He smiles. "Well, I think. I'm hoping to hear from them either today or tomorrow. If they call, put them straight through."

  "I will. You have a couple of messages—accounting would like to speak with you, and the manager of the D.C. hotel called about the renovations to their ballroom." He takes the slips from me. "Oh, and I'm still waiting to hear back from Mr. Jenkins about that call."

  I swear I see him roll his eyes. "Thanks, Alyssa."

  He goes into his office, and I think I might melt from the relief. My fears of being fired were totally irrational. My fears usually are irrational, but that's entirely beside the point. He doesn't know. This was a close call. From now on I'll write the fantasies when I get home, because you can be damn sure I'm not going to stop having them.

  "Hey, Alyssa, can you come in here for a second?" Charles calls from the office.

  There's a little butterfly in my stomach as I head inside. "Sure."

  He's in the process of hanging up his suit jacket. "Before I take care of these messages, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

  "Of course."

  He sits at his desk and pulls his phone out, typing. "The night we first met, you told me you expected our relationship to be entirely professional."

  My stomach drops down to the ground. Considering that we're on the fiftieth floor, it's a long drop. "That's right, I did. I appreciate that you've respected that."

  He smiles at me, a genuinely delighted smile. "So imagine my surprise when I found out that you've been writing graphic sexual fantasies about two characters, who are shockingly similar to you and I."

  "No." All the blood drains from my face. This isn't happening. It's so, so much worse than when I imagined it this morning.

  "I just wanted to know where that lies in the line of keeping our relationship professional?"

  He's still smiling. Is he going to fire me? How can I salvage this? THINK. But my brain is all mushy, and the only thing that I can force out of my mouth is, "I can explain..."

  "You don't have to explain anything. There's nothing wrong with this. I love this." He gestures to his phone, "But I think you may have lied about wanting to be professional."

  "I—" Nothing else comes out. There aren't any words.

  "I can feel the bite of a button into my wrist as he ties my hands with his shirt, but I can't care. The view of his chest makes it all worth it."

  Oh my god he's reading it. All the blood rushes back from where it went and goes straight into my face. I can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from my face. He's still smiling. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, even if you haven't seen me without a shirt yet. That's one of my favorite bits. I have others..."

  "No, please." I take a step forward. "Stop."

  "You wrote this. So did you lie about what you wanted?" I don't say anything. Instead I'm trying to figure out how to get the phone out of his hand. He starts again, "He moves inside me faster and faster, and I want to touch him even though he told me no. Instead I'm trapped by his will and his word—"

  "Stop." I say, moving around the desk. He has to stop. It's not meant to be read out loud.

  He moves too, away from me, reading all the time. "The thought makes me shudder with pleasure."

  "Mr. Saxon. Charles."

  We're on opposite sides of the desk again. "To get me to stop you have to admit that you lied."

  Rage flows through me, giving me focus through the fog. "I didn't lie. I did—do want our relationship to be professional. My fantasies are none of your business."

  He walks over to his couch and sits on the arm. "They are my business when they are about me. Now stop trying to take my phone, I'm quite enjoying this." The grin is back. "His mouth covers my nipple and I gasp the sweet sensation of teeth and tongue, teeth and tongue, over and over again."

  To hell with this. If he's not going to stop reading, I'll make him stop. Then we can talk about professionalism. He locks eyes with me as I come around the desk, and he's not smiling any more. "Alyssa," He says, "Stop. I'm going to finish this." I take another step towards him, ignoring the fact that him giving me a command is exactly what all these fantasies are about. "Don't. Move." His face is deadly serious. He turns back to his phone. "'I'm so close.' I whisper, and I feel him slow down, making it last until—"

  Enough is enough. I close the distance and grab at the phone, but Charles gets there first. He grabs my wrist, and now we're eye to eye. And then before I can fully grasp what's happening, he pulls me across his lap, and he spanks me.

  Fiery pain bursts from the spot, and I freeze. He spanks me again, and again, his words punctuating the pain. "I. Told. You. Not. To. Move."

  The pain subsides and I find that my breath is coming in gasps, and I can feet the heat between my legs. His hand moves slowly now, massaging away the pain. This is exactly what I wanted. I thought it was just a fantasy, something that I would just imagine to—I never thought it would be real.

  Charles pulls me upright and close, moving my legs for me so that I'm straddling him. My breathing is out of control and I know I'm bright red and I don't understand how he's so calm because I've never been more turned on in my life.

  He wraps his hands around my wrists, holding me against him. "That was for moving when I told you not to. Don't do it again. And don't ever lie to me."

  My mind is blank. Totally blank. Where are my words? "But...I didn't lie." I say, taking a deep breath. "It's just a fantasy."

  "You lied." He says, "But your body doesn't." And then his hand is under my skirt and his fingers touch me and oh god I'm so wet. I close my eyes, so I can't see him look at me. This can't be real. This can't be what I want. But it is.

  His fingers slide along the outside of me, grazing my clit and
diving back down to dip inside me. My whole body comes alive at that touch, and I shudder as his keep moving. Outside and inside and around. He's using my own body against me, my own slickness making it easier for him to tease me.

  His other hand comes behind my neck and he pulls me in and kisses me hard, demanding more from me with his lips. Sweeping his tongue across my lips, tells me to open for him, and I do. He possesses my mouth, and it's so much better than I imagined.

  He pulls me back, and I'm more than a little breathless. There's no trace of the playful teasing of reading my stories. Now he's radiating raw power. "Alyssa. You can choose now—I stop and we pretend this never happened, or we keep going and you surrender to me."

  I think I've stopped breathing. To have it laid out like that, so simply, it makes me wetter. I know he feels it too. I should say no. This is not something people do. But I think of every night I've had since I've started, imagining him doing exactly this, letting him do what he wants with me. I'm staring at him, and I realize this may be my only chance to know what this feels like, to have a fantasy. This could be real.

  His hand tightens ever sol slightly on my neck, bringing me back to the moment. "Tell me what you want." His voice is as rich as ever.

  I feel my face get hot, and I know I'm not going to be able to say it, not loudly at least. I lean forward, close to his ear, and I close my eyes. "Command me, Sir."

  His fingers spasm inside me, and when I look back at him eyes are filled with fire. His hand moves from my neck and into my hair and grips it, making sure I can't look away, can't move my gaze anywhere from his face. I shiver, and I feel my skin react with goosebumps, nipples hardening beneath my dress. "You will do everything I say when you are in this office with me. Do you understand?" He strokes his thumb across my clit, making my back arch.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "First things first," He says with a small smile, "Lock the door."

  He releases me, and I glance backwards. To my shock, the door is still open. Not all the way, but still. Anyone could have seen, could have heard. He flexes his fingers inside me, and I look back at him. "Go. Now." He says.