Derision

by Trisha Wolfe

“It would be easy to say that it is, then let you walk out. That’s exactly what I should do…but I’m just too greedy.”

  My mind races, matching the furious beat of my heart. “I promise…I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m loyal to this firm. You can let me go—”

  “Loyal is the perfect word, Alexis. I couldn’t have articulated it better. But letting you go isn’t an option.” He sweeps my hair aside, exposing my neck. His warm breath slips over my skin, and I tingle every time he releases one against me.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he continues. “Your mind spinning different outcomes. Trying to figure out the repercussion of each one.” Then his hand is at my neck, his fingers tugging down the zipper of my dress.

  “Will this get around the office?” he asks rhetorically, and the loud zip of my dress coming undone slices the air. “Will this affect my job?” Chilly air nips at the bare skin of my back. His coarse palms slide along my skin, pushing the dress off my shoulders. “Do I want to be my boss’s whore?”

  I’m paralyzed.

  My mind is telling me to run, to seek shelter where this warped, alternate reality can’t reach me, can’t infect me. But my body revolts, responding to his touch—those rough hands that scorch my skin. The connection grounds me, claiming something raw and needy and dangerous within my soul.

  “Is that what I’ll be?” I hear myself ask, my head lulling to the side as his domineering hands yank my dress down my body. I start at the vigorous action, but then he’s clasping my arms, his solid form embracing me from behind.

  My dress puddles to the floor around my feet. The slip of the material gliding across my skin along its descent leaves a tantalizing longing in its wake. So long…it’s been so long since I’ve wanted anyone to touch me with purpose.

  Leap or fall.

  His mouth rests at my ear, the feel of his breath drowning out any reservations. “Alexis, you will be so much more than my whore.”

  In one quick motion, he has me turned toward his desk. He stands in front of me, his broad shoulders and chest walling me in. My shaky breathing increases as he reaches down and grasps the backside of my thigh. As he draws it up, his hand trails down, slowly and sensually, to my calf—making me question what he does to make his hands so rough.

  “Don’t move your leg,” he instructs as he places my foot on the edge of the desk, my heel secure as it catches the ridge. He traces a path back up my leg, his coarse palms snagging my sheer, thigh-high stocking and eliciting a quiver in my stomach.

  His eyes stare into mine, daring me to move, to look away. And as he reaches my underwear, I feel as if I’m going to fall into him. Just fall. My lips tremble, and his other hand is there to take that fear.

  He rests his thumb over my mouth, traces my bottom lip, as his fingers secure me to him. A grounding touch as I’m slipping, the weight of my body—the pull of the unknown—dragging me under.

  “Give me permission to own you, Alexis,” he whispers against my mouth. His finger rims the seam of my underwear, peeling the elastic away from my body. Teasing, toying, sending arousing tremors to my core. He’s barely touching me, and I’m lit aflame.

  “What are you asking?” I say, attempting to shake my head, searching for balance. “This is too much.”

  His thumb skims over my sex, applying slight pressure to my clit, swirling that needy spot that has me almost buckling. But his hold on my face, his gaze boring into mine, keeps me afloat.

  “It’s not enough,” he says. My breasts feel heavy and seeking against his muscular chest the closer he brings me, and soon my body is arching into him. “You understand more than you’re willing to admit. I want you to surrender to me. Let me possess you. I’ve battled my desire for you for so long, I’m willing to break my own rule. All I’m asking is for you to be mine.”

  This sobers me enough to ask, “Why me?”

  The way he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, as if he’s preparing to taste me, scorches my veins. He moves in closer, his mouth brushing my ear as he says, “You’re so fucking tempting.”

  My eyes close. The feel of his lips grazing me, the gruff whisper of his voice, his words…I’m through. There’s no fight left.

  “Your face tonight,” he says, and I open my eyes. “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?”

  I avert my gaze as shame gathers within.

  “Look at me,” he commands.

  I do. I stare right back into him. “No more than usual. I’m used to it.”

  “And yet you suffer it so beautifully.” He does taste me then. His mouth seals over mine in the gentlest of kisses. His soft lips just brushing mine, sampling. But I feel the restraint there, holding him back from taking my mouth in a brutal kiss meant to wound, to punish.

  As he pulls away, his gaze flits over my face. “The humility you endure, as if it’s your own brand of sin, is an erotic aphrodisiac to my monster,” he says, forcefully tugging my underwear aside, his fingers finding me within the same second. I gasp in a breath past the onslaught of arousal. “And I am tortured, Alexis. That monster has to claim you if I ever hope to be sated. Even then…I’m not sure it will be enough.”

  His hand moves to my hair, yanking my head back as his mouth takes my neck. His teeth nip and brand, my skin an open canvas to be marked by him.

  “I will take, but I’ll also give,” he says. “Whatever you desire, I’ll give you.”

  Within a pocket of my mind, a sane voice whispers this is wrong. This man is terrifying—more terrifying than any cliff. I know nothing of him; he’s just a shadow, a powerful figure in my professional life. Whatever he’s greedily taking from me will never be returned. Only the roar of my blood as it careens against my arteries in a raging inferno shouts louder.

  I’m not giving up; I’m giving in. I’m ready.

  I plunge over the cliff. Leaping and falling all at once.

  And then: “Yes.”

  The word passes my lips as effortlessly as he sinks inside me, claiming my body as his.

  I don’t want to struggle. I don’t want to fight the inevitable. I’m exhausted from swimming against the tide. I no longer want to be the awkward, strange girl that enforces some ridiculous, self-serving belief she doesn’t long to be touched. Only because it means embarrassment, ridicule. Estrangement. When a man realizes there’s nothing beneath my surface, all those are soon to follow.

  If this man wants to feast off my humility, he can devour it whole.

  “Oh, Alexis,” he whispers against my lips. “I’m going to debase you in the most lovely way.”

  4

  Scorn

  Chase

  Alexis Wilde is a temptress.

  Those pouty, downturned lips. Those sullen, bottomless eyes always glistening on the verge of tears. That vexing body—that she has no idea is so goddamn sexy. She taunts me daily. Daring me to break my rules.

  And finally, I have succumb to my temptress.

  My hand fists in her silky dark hair as I tower over her, devouring the sight of what I’ve craved for too long. “Grab the desk,” I command her.

  The tantalizing column of her slim throat bobs, enticing me. The urge to feel my cock meet the back of it irresistible. A hint of defiance shimmers in the green pools of her eyes, just a flicker, before she submits.

  I step aside as she assumes her position, transitioning into it gracefully. As I move around her, letting my hand caress the delicate dip of her lower back, admiring her spread legs, the sexy shape of her ass…I tremble with anticipation and have to rip my hand away.

  “Stay just like that,” I encourage, then move to the center of the room and take a seat in my leather chair. “Spread your legs wider.”

  She does, more compliant now, giving me a perfect view.

  My jaw set, I compel myself to ease into this, enforcing patience, or I’m liable to devour her all at once.

  This obsession with her isn’t just dangerous for me; she’s suffered its ramifications without even knowing. Though I w
as careful not to approach her, I couldn’t help but test her. Toy with her. See how far I could push her submissiveness.

  Late hours requested through Julia so I could watch her pull her hair up into that messy bun as she worried over a brief. During those summer nights, cranking the heat with a claim the AC was broken, so I could fantasize about her as she stripped down to her slip.

  I even exposed the secret of her druggie brother, circulating a rumor that caught fire, just to witness her reaction. When she discovered a gaggle of interns talking about her, she bore the humility with an iron will as she soaked in it, reveled in it, allowing it to consume her from the inside out.

  And me? I wore my dick out to the thought of her desperate, panting breaths in my office. In this very chair. She’s a fucking temptress. And to a man like me…she could be my undoing.

  That’s why I have rules.

  But tonight…

  The temptation was unbearable. Her shame was tangible; I could taste it on the air. Her misery so palpable, the conference room choked on it. Everyone has a breaking point, even my precious Alexis.

  Someone hurt her, and if anyone is going to be the recipient of her broken tears, it’s going to be me. The one who can appreciate and condition this lovely creature, grooming her to reach her full potential.

  Not Wells or any other partner. Just the thought of their filthy hands on her nearly sends me into a rage. I’ve been able to keep the wolves at bay over the past year by diminishing her qualities. She’s too fragile. Too unstable. Too meek. But the look in Wells’ eyes just now…

  He likes a challenge as much as I do. He scented her blood in the air, a wounded creature ripe for the kill.

  If I didn’t claim her, he or one of the others would despite my orders. Not only are they testing their boundaries, they’re forcing me to take action.

  Already, I’ve wasted too much time pining after her—but the damage isn’t irreversible. I’ve watched Alexis; I know how rare she is. How miraculous her self-preservation is. Above all, I know just what she needs.

  “Put your hand between your thighs,” I order, my own pressing against the straining ridge of my cock.

  Her legs, adorned beautifully with sheer black thigh-highs, tremble at my command. She timidly clasps her inner thigh, right beneath her pussy. So innocent.

  “Touch yourself.”

  Her hesitancy rolls off her in waves, her insecurity thickening the air and swirling with my lust. We’ve barely begun to play and she’s already heady with her shame. I could spend hours just watching her, stretching out my torment as she takes her time, unaware of how she’s torturing me.

  “I want your fingers on your sweet anus, Alexis. Touch yourself there.”

  A small whimper escapes her as she obeys my request. Her hand palms her pussy as her fingers seek the tight little hole I’m certain is virgin. That thought makes my cock jump. My anticipation raging anew and wild.

  I lower my zipper and let myself spring free, curl my hand around my shaft. I hiss out a breath through my teeth, bucking against the sensation. I’ve craved her far too long, suffering this self-imposed restraint, and the desperation to end my agony is almost painful.

  I give myself a long stroke, offsetting the desire to fuck her hard and raw this second. “Have you ever been touched there before?” I ask, tightening my grip with a slow stroke toward the tip.

  Her head shakes back and forth, her tits rocking from the effort as she remains bent over. “No. Never.”

  I close my eyes, my jaw flexed. “Imagine me touching you there right now. How do you feel as I insert a finger into you, spreading you open?” Her hand slips away, and I’m out of my chair. “You don’t have permission to stop.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You only respond when I tell you to. Understand?” I’m behind her now, my cock aching at the prospect of spearing her cunt before I sink into the tight ring of muscles puckering her ass.

  Her head nods shakily, but she remains silent.

  “Answer the question.” I rest my hand on her ass, admiring the way her black panties slide into her crack. Loving the feel of her soft, untouched skin.

  “I’d feel…ashamed,” she admits, her honesty a fresh balm to my scorched empathy.

  I curl my fingers, dragging the rough pads down the smooth contour of her skin. “If that’s so—” I find the hot center of her pussy and rub a finger between her lips “—why are you so wet, Alexis?”

  Her body flinches, her hips undulating and grinding her pussy against my hand. “I don’t know.” Her voice is a soft rasp, matching the achy tone of her want.

  I slide my fingers along the thin slip of her panties, pulling the material tight against her clit as I stretch it away from her body. She kicks her ass out, so beautiful, as my other hand finds purchase in her hair. I yank a full grip, bowing her body into an erotic pose of submission.

  My cock digs into her thigh. My balls tighten at the feel of her quivering body. “Do you want to know why?”

  She nods against my hold, even though I’m sure it causes her pain. The feisty temptress. “Yes.”

  My eyes shut against her softly uttered consent. “Then I’ll show you,” I say, fisting my hand to pull her head close to my mouth as I lean down. “But first, one word will stop this at any time. Red. Say it.”

  Her breathy, “Red,” is barely audible.

  “Alexis, I’m not a gentle man. Say it.”

  “Red,” she snaps.

  “Good.” I wrench her panties higher, abusing her clit once more, before I rip them down her thighs. “Tell me what happened tonight,” I say as I massage the innermost part of her thigh, working my way up tenderly.

  She dutifully stays in position, and I reward her with a rough caress to her pussy. She’s so fucking wet, I’m tempted to take her now—but I want to push her. See just how wet her needy little cunt can get.

  “The women I work with,” she says, her tone low and timid. “It’s dumb…”

  I pinch her clit, making her buck. “It’s not dumb to me, temptress. I demand to know.”

  With a shiver, she obeys. “They ridicule me. Not to my face, but I overheard them tonight. I’m a joke. And I work so hard…but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what counts here. Or anywhere.”

  The despondency in her voice curls around me, a brush of heat to my frigid skin. Her head even hangs lower. She has no idea how perfectly alluring her submissive nature is. She does so without thought, and that entices me even more, yearning to possess her.

  Even as she cringes from her admission, she becomes wetter. Her heat drenches my hand. I reward her by slipping a finger inside. I stay there, pressing against the fleshy bundle of nerves, and her body responds. As she clenches around me, I finger her pussy with deep thrusts. I work another finger inside, nearly growling at the feel of her tight cunt. I breathe in deeply, inhaling her arousal.

  “When was the last time you were fucked?”

  Her mortification is palpable as she tries to squirm away. I dig into her pussy harder, yanking her hair and forcing her body to arc and accept the brutal finger fuck.

  “Right after my parents died,” she says in a rush around my vigorous thrusts.

  I slow, encouraging her to move with my pace. Her ass rocks against my hand as I massage her clit. “How long ago?”

  “Three years.”

  “And you haven’t allowed yourself to fuck since? A punishment?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I mean… God, how do you know that?”

  Because it’s in her nature; turning a simple fuck, done out of the height of her emotion, into guilt. “Are you still punishing yourself?”

  She only nods.

  “Then why are you here now, Alexis? In my office, letting me finger your pussy?” I emphasize my point with a thrust that makes her moan. “I want your honesty.”

  I admit, my ego isn’t fragile, but it’s a powerful stroke to it just the same; the knowledge she’s unable to deny her attraction to me
despite herself.

  “I can have both with you,” she says, so low her voice is just a whisper.

  “Speak up.”

  “I can be with you because you’ll punish me.”

  Christ, she’s so fucking perfect. My eyes close as I swirl my finger around her clit, reining in my need to show her just how gratifying my punishment can be. “Perfect.”

  Releasing her hair, I allow her to relax her neck as I roam down her back. When I reach the black strap of her bra, I unhook it. I force one of the straps down her arm, admiring her tits. “Don’t move your arms,” I order as the bra falls to her wrists.

  I cup her breast, full and perky, reminding me how young she is—only in her early twenties. So supple and tender. Tweaking the perfect bud, I drive my fingers inside her, pumping her pussy at a speedy rhythm.

  “How often do you masturbate?” I ask. Her body reacts immediately to the invasive question. Her head bows, her chest pulls away as she recoils, but I pluck her nipple, making it a painful escape.

  She’s a fast learner. I smile as I increase my momentum with another finger to spread her wider. She opens up to me, like a wilted flower receiving the rain. Her pussy soaks my fingers, and I growl my question again.

  “Oh, my god.” Tremors take over her body. “Once…maybe twice a month,” she admits, her voice a wobbly mix of pleasure and shame.

  I lean down close, my whispered words caressing her shoulder. “That’s pathetic. Do you know how often I stroke my cock to the thought of you touching your neglected pussy? Every. Fucking. Day.” I push in deeper, harder, and she spasms against me, clamping down around my fingers as she drips.

  A deep groan rips free as I forcefully remove my fingers. She attempts to close her legs, trying to press her thighs together to offset the ache of her robbed orgasm.

  I smack her ass, then slap my palm against her pussy, forcing her legs to part. Her back dips as she reels from the aftershocks. “Tell me,” I say, swirling a finger around her swollen lips and gathering the wetness. “Are you on birth control?”

  She nods with a hesitant, “Yes.”