Bad Boss

by Brooke Page

  He cleared his throat, and I knew then I didn’t have an excuse to not give him attention. Keeping my eyes on the screen, I responded. “Yes, Mr. Craft?”

  He was quiet for a moment, maybe waiting for me to look at him? I wasn’t ready for that. Finally, he spoke. “I need an office referral for Mr. Timothy Walters.”

  “And the subject matter?”

  “Inaccurate deadlines.”

  I glanced in his direction, holding in my shock. Timothy never did anything wrong. “Could you elaborate?”

  “The monthly expense receipts were due yesterday morning. He didn’t bring them to me until the end of the day.”

  I raised a brow. “Timothy talked to me this morning about the paperwork. I told him it was fine.”

  He glared at me. “I didn’t know you were the boss.”

  “Obviously I’m not, but I do enter the information into the system.”

  “After I go over them.” His words were like venom, and I couldn’t help but wince. He rarely looked at the account sheets before I got to them.

  “You always complain that you can’t read them until I enter them into the system.”

  “I only complain when someone doesn’t do their job.”

  “So you’re really going to write him up because he was off by half a work day?”

  His head snapped in my direction, his brows creasing. “Why do you think I brought him into my office?” Obviously not for the same reason he asked me to come into his office. “Get the incident report written and on my desk. I want it within the hour.” He demanded.

  Turning on his heel, he walked back into his office and slammed the door, causing me to jump. Damn, I really got under his skin, or he was just frustrated.

  I smiled in triumph. He was edgy because of me. I finally got under Mr. Craft’s skin.

  Chapter Six

  I seethed while I worked on the office referral for Timothy. With each word I typed I got angrier, finding it absurd that he was writing Timothy up for something so petty. The paperwork would be done on time and accurately. Craft needed to get more confidence in his employees, especially me.

  With a new found confidence, I strolled to Craft’s office door, knocking without worry of him yelling at me. To my surprise, he opened it within seconds.

  His tall frame was standing before me. Tie gone and the top button on his shirt undone. The smell of his cologne teased my nostrils. He must have reapplied it, because the scent was stronger than earlier this morning. I closed my eyes, temporarily transfixed by the wonderful woodsy smell. My thighs instantly tingled, betraying my newfound confidence.

  “Did you need something?” He barked.

  My lids flew open, along with my mouth. I meant to say something, but was stuck in place by his harsh stare. He lifted his brows, relaxing his stance and crossing his arms. “Ms. Neely?”

  “I, um… here,” I put the write-up form in between us.

  He glanced down at the paper, his jaw ticking slightly. Was he anxious? Did he think I was handing him something else? I should be placing a sexual harassment form in front of him.

  “It’s Timothy’s report.”

  The tenseness in his jaw faded slightly. “Right,” he said stiffly, grabbing the form from my hands. He turned and headed for his desk, not bothering to close the door. I stayed in place, unsure what to do next. He didn’t summon me to come inside, yet he didn’t slam the door in my face either. The air was too thick, his conference table no longer in disarray from him lifting me and twisting me around on it so he could fuck me. I didn’t trust myself in there with him.

  A shiver traveled down my spine while I gazed at the table.

  He caught my line of sight. “Yeah… imagine staring at it all afternoon,” Craft mumbled under his breath, still examining the report.

  My typical response would be to apologize instantly, say I was sorry and scared and that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing by running out on him. I could hear Mindy scolding me for wanting to blame myself for what happened, but that wasn’t the case. We were both at fault.

  “Timothy is going to be upset when he gets that letter in his mailbox,” I said, needing to change the subject. We weren’t going to talk about what happened this afternoon. Not yet.

  He looked at me over the paper. “He’s been forewarned.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, still standing just outside the threshold of his office. “He’s never done anything wrong. Can’t you let him off with a warning?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Everyone receives a warning when they’re hired. When I give a deadline, I expect it to be met.”

  He was on edge, tense, and dissatisfied. More so than his usual cranky self. I smiled inwardly, knowing I was part of why he was so agitated. Although, I felt horrible that he was taking it out on another employee, someone who didn’t deserve to have a write-up on his working record.

  “The accounts aren’t due for another few days. I really don’t mind getting the paperwork later.” I was the one who entered all of the data. It really wasn’t a big deal.

  He lowered the paper, slamming his hand on his mahogany desk. I stood my ground, refraining from wincing. “That’s not the point,” he snapped. “He won’t be late next time, and if he is, he’ll lose his job. It’s not your decision when the deadline is, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to Timothy about our accounts at all. If you have a question, you bring it up with me.”

  My lips pierced. “You’re being a little excessive over this.”

  He slowly stood from his seat, both palms flattening on his desk while he scowled at me. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  Crossing my arms, I lifted my chin. “I didn’t know I needed permission to give it to you.”

  He took in a sharp inhale. “That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

  My lip twitched, my newfound confidence growing inside of me and giving me courage. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to get into trouble.”

  He tilted his head, his jaw tightening. Such a sexy jaw… “What exactly are you implying, Ms. Neely?”

  The mood shifted, quickly crossing from work bickering into subtle flirting. Our energy was beginning to crackle between us, the room seeming smaller than it really was. The desire was there, blatantly poking each of us to leap over his desk and go at it. My chest was heaving, willing me to make a move, yet my heels were anchored to the hardwood floor just outside of his office.

  He took the initiative, smoothly standing tall and gliding easily on his feet around his desk toward me. My breathing picked up its pace, anxious for what he was going to do. Turning and running home would have been the smart thing to do, but I was drawn to him, a dangerous magnet that would shock me when I touched it.

  He was in my face now, so close that if I tilted my head upward and stood on my toes our lips would touch.

  “You’ve got my attention,” he whispered, looking at my mouth. “Are you really going to report me?”

  He was surrounding me, pulling me into his spell. Every inch of my skin tingled, aching for him to touch me again. My lips parted, “Not yet.”

  He searched my face, then looked over my shoulders.

  Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my face and planted his mouth against mine. I snatched a handful of his designer shirt, catching a button in the process and ripping it loose.

  That didn’t faze him. He only wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest and back into his office, closing the door with his other hand.

  He was urgent with his kisses, and instantly hard poking my stomach. Lifting me with ease, he carried me behind his desk and thrust me into the wall, still diving his tongue into my mouth.

  I quivered with excitement, imagining what his skilled tongue could do to me in other places. He’d said he had talents, and I’d never been more eager to find out if he were telling the truth.

  I tugged on his hair, yanking hard enough for him to wince. “You’re such a fucki
ng tease,” he muttered, clenching my thighs between his palms.

  “I’ve done nothing but be professional,” I said sweetly, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. “You’re the one who lifted me up and threw me against the wall.”

  His scowl deepened. Licking his lips, he sneered, “I don’t see you complaining.”

  I glanced down at his chest where his shirt was opened, noticing the indent of his pecs. The urge to see him naked was stronger than ever.

  With a daring hand, I traced the indent. “It’s not a wise decision to complain about your boss.”

  The tension around his eyes released, now fixating on my lips. “Good point. Although, I can’t imagine you complaining about our recent meeting.”

  I laughed in his face. “Just when I think your ego can’t get any bigger.”

  The devilish smile that got on my everlasting nerve appeared. “It’s not an ego when it’s true.” His hands caressed the back of my thighs, and goosebumps trailed down my legs.

  “You would think that,” I gasped mid-sentence.

  With complete ease, he swiftly spun us and landed me on his desk. My legs locked around his hips for stability.

  Dropping his hands on either side of me on the mahogany desk, he breathed, “I don’t think it. I know it.”

  “I’ve had better,” I coaxed.

  His sphinx of a smile widened. I had brought on a challenge for him. “I’m going to make a liar out of you.”

  Ever so slowly, he unlatched my legs from around his waist and went to his knees, never taking his eyes from mine.

  My breathing became shallow, watching his hands trace up my calves and under my dress. I knew where this was heading. Any other time I’d be shy and apprehensive to let a man go down on me, but the sight of Mr. Craft on his knees gave me a rush of adrenaline.

  “I’ve been thinking about this view, all afternoon, knowing that your panties are stashed away in my drawer and you’re bare underneath this dress.”

  I licked my lips and watched his hands scrunch up the fabric.

  Why wasn’t I stopping him?

  “You would hide my panties in a drawer,” I spat. I wanted to sound bitchy, but it came out breathy instead.

  He kissed the inside of my thigh, sending a tremor right to my core. “I could have left them on the floor for Timothy to see.”

  I glared at his playfulness. “Sounds like another lawsuit.”

  His touch became rougher when I said lawsuit, hiking my dress completely over my hips and spreading my legs wide apart. “I didn’t know charges could be made for leaving women’s underwear on the floor?”

  “I guess you would know,” I muttered. He winked, and I snorted in disgust. “You’re a pig.”

  “And you’re wet,” he hissed, slipping his finger between my thighs, stroking the soft flesh that lead to my aching slit.

  I sucked on my bottom lip. “Happens when I’m pantyless.”

  “Also when you know I’m about to fuck you.”

  “If I let you,” I challenged.

  A sparkle twinkled in his eyes. “Oh, Ms. Neely, you’ve played hard to get for long enough.” Two slick fingers filled me, and I stifled a moan.

  In and out, in and out, his movement was deliberate, sliding at a wonderful pace. “You’ve been wet all afternoon, haven’t you? Hoping for another mind blowing orgasm?”

  “I’ve had better,” I panted, fighting my conscience from closing my legs. His fingers felt so good inside of me, so exquisite that I did wanted more.

  He shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping his mouth. “You’ve felt nothing yet, sweetheart.”

  A warm breeze passed through his lips, tickling my clit. I shuddered and tipped my head back. His mouth was an inch from my sensitive nub as he spoke. “You’ll never forget how magnificent my mouth feels on your pussy.”

  Before I could counter, his tongue darted out, running the length of my folds and to my swollen bud, circling around the nerves at a reverent pace. I wanted to moan out loud, tell him how glorious it felt, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. He continued with his fingers, pumping inside of me, matching the pace of his tongue working over my nub.

  He was particular with his movements, carefully picking up on when I’d shiver or whimper, proceeding to do the same motion over and over. I was going to come in the matter of moments with how his fingers shoved deep inside and his tongue stroked and applied just the right pressure. Forget that I was sitting on his desk, half my ass under his planner, and the other half on the cool mahogany of the table top. I didn’t care that his computer screen was just behind my back, and that every time I dipped my head back from the pleasure I’d almost knocked it over. I was blocking everything out, including the loud thump that seemed to be coming from his closed door.

  Nothing matter right now, except for the flawlessly moving tongue pulsing around my clit. His gentle blue eyes that were staring up at me withering in the pleasure intensified the experience all the more.

  Then, he curled his finger and sucked with urgency. I was done for.

  “Yes,” I groaned, feeling the rush of warmth spread throughout my body, bursting with ecstasy. My hands grabbed his hair as I trembled, trying to control the desire that was exploding within me. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Kelsey?” A familiar voice croaked from behind me.

  I froze, my hand still clenching the top of Craft’s hair. What…? Oh no… the thumping wasn’t a random noise, but a knock on the door, and my ecstatic yes’s were the equivalent to, come on in, walk right into my boss eating me out on his desk.

  Chapter Seven

  My jaw hung open and my face was every shade of red. Craft cautiously stood, careful not to touch me. I caught a glimpse of his jaw, noticing the stubble on his chin glistening from the moisture of my excitement.

  My eyes clenched closed, wishing I could disappear.

  “Oh… um…” The owner of the voice who’d walked in us stumbled over his words. I was mortified to turn around and face him. I knew who it was, and the goofy smile he gave me every day wouldn’t be easy to see from now on.

  “Ms. Neely and I are going over my schedule. Is there something I can help you with?” Mr. Craft said smoothly.

  “Um… I just…” Timothy stuttered.

  Craft breathed heavily through his nose, and even though I wasn’t looking at him, I knew his expression. Tight jaw, furrowed brows. Whenever he breathed through his nose like that, he was irritated.

  “You know what, I’ll come back tomorrow,” Timothy stammered, then the door creaked closed.

  The breath I had been holding whooshed out of my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said instinctively, hopping down from his desk and straightening my dress.

  Craft grabbed my wrists, stopping me. I only stared at his chest, dying a little inside because of how much of his bare chest was exposed from me ripping the buttons from his shirt.

  “Why on earth are you sorry?”

  “Because I didn’t control myself,” I sighed.

  He let go of one of my wrists, his hand finding my chin. His touch was gentle, nothing like the harshness in his tone when he talked to Timothy.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and I obeyed. “For acting like your superior than me, be sorry. For fucking up paperwork, be sorry. But for giving me the privilege of making you come? Never be sorry for that.”

  My mouth popped open, then closed again. His eyes were half lidded as he studied my face, an odd warmth radiating from it. He was relaxed and not uptight. It wasn’t an emotion he portrayed. Grumpy glares paired with scowls were his typical facial expressions.

  This softer side of Mr. Craft made me temporarily forget the arrogant asshole I’d grown to know and despise. His attractiveness becomes obsolete because of how big of a jerk he was. The tenderness in his voice and the sweet gesture of his thumb caressing my cheek was too much. Hating his guts itched to fade away, and the foreign tightness in my chest wasn’t something I was ready to feel.


  “I should go,” I murmured, peeling my gaze from his. “I need to finish entering the account information.”

  Craft dropped his hands and put them in his pockets. “I have some work to finish before the weekend as well.”

  I nodded and gave my dress one more tug before turning to leave. I could feel his eyes on me as I opened the door then closed it.

  Chapter Eight

  Mr. Craft was still in his office when I left at 7:30pm, two and a half hours later than I normally stayed, especially on a Friday night. I should have been in a frenzy to get out of that office building before my boss who had given me two unpredictable orgasms within a few hours, but I didn’t. I had the incredible urge to walk out of the building with him, ask him what he was doing over the weekend, and maybe offer to help him at the office if he were coming in on Sunday afternoon like he usually did.

  It was outrageous of me to think so ridiculously. Craft was a prick, and all of the fantasies that played over and over in my head needed to stop. It was a fluke fuck, and I should be basking in the fact that I’d gotten off twice, leaving him hanging to dry each time.

  “Where are you? Did that asshole keep you late? We’ve been waiting here for over an hour!” Mindy shouted on the other end of the phone. She was at the bar with a few of our fellow co-workers. Every other Friday we’d go out for a drink, shoot the shit and gossip. The interns sometimes showed up, but by now they’d all be gone. I debated not even coming tonight considering the day's events. The last thing I needed to see was all of the other women who fell prey to Craft.

  I blobbed my lipstick on a napkin. “I had a lot to catch up on, and I needed to change.” Really, I needed a shower and panties.

  “Well get here already!”

  I hung up the phone and tousled my hair, adding more hairspray to give it volume. I’d changed into a pair of worn skinny jeans and a black tank top with a studded design. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was comfortable. I even opted for a pair of black chucks instead of heels. Maybe a night out would help me clear my head. Satisfied with my appearance, I headed out of my small studio apartment and flagged down a taxi.