by Cynthia Sax
“We had a security breach.” Henley places his palm on my back, guiding me through the labyrinth of glass and electronics. “I have zero tolerance for security breaches. We’re responsible for the safety of the company.”
“You protect everyone.” My chest fills with pride. “I’ll try not to access anything I shouldn’t.” I lower my voice suggestively.
“You’re not the intern I’m concerned about.” Henley ignores my sexual innuendo. As we turn the corner, Camille ducks her head out of an open doorway. She sees us, her eyes widen, and she pulls her head back into the room.
“Impossible,” Henley mutters as he steers me through the doorway, into a luxurious boardroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows are heavily tinted. The walls are painted gray, the carpet is a shade darker than the walls, and the modern artwork is equally monochrome.
Camille is seated at a long black table, scowling down at her phone, acting as though she’s been sitting there for hours. Three takeout containers, white china plates and sets of silverware are placed in front of her. The scent of ginger fills my nostrils and my stomach rumbles.
Camille looks up and feigns surprise, her acting abilities extremely poor. “Mr. Henley. Purple.” Her pale cheeks flush. She hastens to her feet and her phone clatters to the tabletop.
I wait for Henley to call Camille on her antics, to mention the security breach, to accuse her of jeopardizing the safety of employees. He doesn’t. He calmly strides to a small bar fridge and extracts three bottles of water, clasping them in one big hand. “Is this okay?” We both nod.
Henley returns to the end of the table, sets the bottles down, arranges our plates and utensils, and opens the takeout containers. Camille takes the seat to his right, her expression adoring. I sit to his left. He doesn’t look at or speak to either of us, the silence disturbing me.
“Whatever you ordered for me smells good.” I smile at Camille, seeking to ease the tension in the room. “I guess the cafeteria didn’t have chicken fingers and fries.”
“They had chicken fingers and fries,” she answers, her gaze fixed on Henley’s face. “But I like you too much to order that. I chose the stir fry of the day for both of us. I hope you like it.” Her response is unnaturally polite and professional, her efforts to impress Henley irking me. He’s my behemoth, my man.
I force a laugh. “I can guarantee I’ll like it. They say hunger is the best spice and I’m starving.”
“These are yours.” Henley hands us both a container. “And this is mine.” He dumps the contents of the third container on his plate. He has ordered a massive artery-clogging roast beef sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a giant dill pickle.
“Is that your veggie?” I tease, poking the pickle with the tongs of my fork. Henley doesn’t say anything. I open my takeout container and transfer beef and broccoli over rice onto my plate while Camille watches me, her face tight with worry. “This is one of my favorite meals,” I assure her. “Broccoli is really good for you.” I slide my gaze to Henley. “Everyone should eat it.”
Henley narrows his eyes. I smile sweetly. He sighs and pushes his plate toward mine. I heap some of the stir fry beside his sandwich, giving him extra broccoli. “There.” I nudge his plate and he places it in front of him. “We won’t tell anyone you deviated from your diet of small children and cuddly kittens.”
Camille inhales sharply, her eyes rounding.
“I do like eating kittens.” Henley’s lips lift.
I imagine his tongue flicking over my wet pussy and I wiggle in my chair. “I thought we were obeying your rules.”
“We are obeying my rules.” His tone becomes curt. Henley turns toward Camille. “Camille, you mentioned an interest in cybersecurity.” He gives her his full attention, ignoring me.
I eat and listen as the two of them talk security metrics and system design. Although I grew up around these discussions, I can’t contribute because if I do they’ll ask how I gained my knowledge. I’ll have to lie and I don’t want to lie to Henley.
Camille grows increasingly frustrated with Henley’s general answers to her detailed questions. “Are you being deliberately evasive?” she finally demands, her face flushed. “How can I learn anything if you won’t answer my questions and Miss Yen has me inputting time logs?”
Henley’s lips flatten.
“I’m shredding files.” I rise to my feet. “But my father says we can learn from every job.” I place the garbage in the bin and stack our empty plates. “Where should I take these?”
“Leave them here.” Henley waves one of his hands. “Someone else will take care of them.” He stands, shaking the nonexistent wrinkles out of his black pants. He’s big and strong and sexy. I swallow hard, his size arousing me. “I’ll walk you out.” He moves to the door.
“I’d learn more if I worked for you, Mr. Henley.” Camille’s hero worship is starting to grate on my nerves. “Does your department hire interns?”
“No.” He follows us as we walk along the glass hallway. The transparent offices now house more male employees than they previously did. All of the men watch us, more specifically me, as we traipse upon the gray carpeted pathway.
“I suppose everyone in your department has seen my breasts.” I beam at one chubby faced man and he falls out of his chair.
“I was the last person to be informed,” Henley rumbles. “That won’t happen again.” He waves his passcard at the reception door security box, taps eight digits into the numeric keypad, and presses his thumb against the screen.
Camille exits. I brush against Henley as I pass through the doorway and heat flares from the points of contact. His eyes darken, his reaction thrilling me. He wants me and I want him.
“Behave.” His command allows for no disobedience.
“I’ll try . . . in public.” I give him my sultriest smile.
“It was nice meeting you, Grant.” I wiggle my fingers at Henley’s receptionist. “You’ll likely be seeing me again soon.”
“We all look forward to that, Miss Kat.” Grant nods, his eyes sparkling.
“Don’t encourage him,” Henley grumbles. I’m acutely aware of his proximity, of his seductive body heat, as we walk toward the bank of elevators. He presses the button and the doors open. Camille enters first. She’s suspiciously quiet.
I step inside, turn and face Henley, wishing I didn’t have to leave him. “You said the shredding rooms have cameras?”
Henley’s eyes blaze. “Don’t do it.”
He’ll be watching me. I smile as the elevator doors close. We won’t truly be apart.
Chapter Four
* * *
I FACE FORWARD in the elevator, watching the numbers change, a smile on my face. Henley is so easy to tease.
Camille shifts her weight from her right foot to her left. “Did you know Mr. Henley before you started this job?”
“Yes.” This isn’t technically a lie. I met him in the park before I started work at Blaine Technologies. “Were you responsible for the security breach?” I glance at her.
She doesn’t meet my gaze and she doesn’t answer my question. “Thanks for taking the fall for the stairwell incident. Did Mr. Henley give you a tongue-lashing?”
“You might say that.” I grin, remembering the slide of Henley’s tongue over mine, the taste of his mouth, the press of his firm lips. “I expect I’ll earn quite a few more tongue-lashings while I’m working here.”
The doors open. Camille and I wander down the hallway. I turn into my office aka the shredding room. Camille goes wherever green-haired interns go.
Hours pass and I feed the files blindly into the shredder. Jet lag and the emotional toil of the past few days catch up with me. I shred and shred and shred, losing myself in the repetitive motion, my brain numbing and my thoughts stilling. Every time I exit the room to retrieve more boxes, I pass fewer employees, desks clearing and chairs emptying.
My feet ache. My shoes aren’t designed for hours spent standing in one place. I discard them afte
r the sixth box. There’s no one to see my bare feet, the shredding room now being my exclusive domain. My ears buzz, the noise from the machine increasing the feeling of isolation.
I’m not alone. The small room is being monitored by security. I stare up at the black camera lens embedded in the far wall.
Is Henley watching me? I dance in place, the gray industrial carpet rough against the soles of my feet. Is he waiting for me to do something wild, something naughty? I glance around me. There are no other signs of life in the office.
I take a deep breath, lift my blazer, and expose my bare breasts to the camera. The cool air hits my skin, tightening my nipples. I drop my blazer, covering up once more, and exhale, excited by this small act of rebellion, my pussy moistening.
Did Henley see me? I press my thighs together. Are all of the men in his department looking at the video feed? I imagine they harden, unable to control their arousal. They yank down their pants and stroke their cocks, their glass offices giving them no privacy. They’re as exposed as I am.
I shred more files, acting as though nothing has happened. Every file folder is a dreary gray, the papers predominantly white, the font black. My thoughts return to Henley, to the camera positioned across from me, the lens tempting me, taunting me.
Unable to resist its lure, I raise my pretty lavender blazer again and flash the camera slowly this time, jiggling a bit to make my breasts bounce, to give my audience a good show. I cover myself up once more, laughing, giddy with exhilaration.
Others may be watching me, but Henley is the man I flash for. I flatten the empty cardboard box and add it to the waist-high stack. He’s the man I want.
I exit the shredding room and see no one, the lights dimmed. Miss Yen’s office door is closed. Camille’s chair is empty. The wall of confidential files to be destroyed remains and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Only bad dreams and a vacant hotel room await me. I grab another box of files and return to my post.
As I plop the cardboard box down on the carpet, the door behind me clicks closed. I’m no longer alone. I pivot on my bare heels, preparing to fight the intruder.
Henley stands in front of the door, his shoulders wide, his feet braced apart, his eyes dark. My fear eases and my arousal escalates. He’s here. He’s come for me.
“I told you not to do it.” Henley’s sinfully deep voice curls my bare toes.
“You knew I couldn’t resist.” I lift my chin, deliberately challenging him, needing this confrontation, yearning for his punishment.
Henley stalks toward me, his gaze mind-numbingly intense. “You should have resisted.”
“I didn’t.” I squeak as Henley lifts me, his strength thrilling me. “How could I resist?” I ask, secure in his arms. “I knew you’d be watching me.”
“I was watching you.” He sets me carefully on top of the stack of flattened cardboard boxes, places his scarred palms on my shoulders, and pushes me down until I’m horizontal, laying on my back, gazing up at him.
“Were you watching me?” I whisper, my mouth suddenly dry.
Henley unbuttons my blazer, revealing more and more of my pale skin. “I was.” He looks at my breasts, examining every inch of my exposed body, the focus in his eyes taking my breath away. He wants me and he plans to have me.
Will he fuck me here, on top of the cardboard? I wiggle, anticipating his touch. Will he hike up my skirt, settle between my spread thighs, fill my pussy with his big cock, and ride me until I scream? I tilt my body toward his. Will he bellow as he finds release, filling me with his cum?
“Did you like what you saw?” My voice is husky.
“I should tell you I didn’t.” He strokes his callused fingers along my sides and I tremble, needing more, needing those fingers on my nipples, in my pussy. “You’ve been a very naughty kitten.” Henley caresses closer and closer to my breasts, my nipples aching for his touch. “And I shouldn’t encourage you.”
“You also shouldn’t lie to me.” I arch, trying to coax him to move faster.
“I’d never lie to you.” Henley’s eyes glow as he leisurely circles my breasts, acting as though he has all of the time in the world to please me. Desire coils around me tighter and tighter. “Trust is based on truth and I need you to trust me.”
“What I need is you, Henley.” I writhe on the cardboard. “I need you now.”
“This isn’t about your need.” He pins me with his hips, his cock hard, his dominance stimulating me. “This is about your punishment.” Henley cups my breasts with his grooved palms, his hold possessive, a declaration of ownership, and I suck in my breath, my arousal spiking higher. “I have to teach you to behave.” He kneads my curves, his grip on my sensitive flesh unrelentingly tight.
“Then teach me.” I wiggle under him, eager for this lesson.
Henley bends over me, squeezes my breasts together, and licks between them, his tongue wet and hot and rough. I bite my bottom lip, holding back a squeal of unabashed joy. “My rules exist for a reason,” he rumbles, his lips vibrating against my skin.
“Yes, rules.” I clutch his suit-clad shoulders. “We’re on camera.” I need him, but I don’t want him to be angry with me tomorrow. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“You shouldn’t have showed my employees your breasts.” Henley nuzzles against me and I quiver. “Now I have to take steps to mitigate that damage.”
He lifts his head and meets my gaze, his expression serious and stern. My heart pounds in my chest. What steps will he take? Have I pushed him too far?
“I have no choice.” Henley shifts on top of me until his lips hover inches above my right nipple. “I must protect you, must show my employees these breasts belong to me.” He extends his tongue, and I still, my body tensing, tensing, tensing, my fingertips digging into the fabric of his jacket. “So they don’t dare to touch you.” He flicks my sensitive skin.
“Henley,” I cry his name, my spine bowing, lifting, pleasure radiating from his fleeting touch.
“Yes, tell those watching us who owns you.” Henley chuckles, his joy increasing my bliss. “Be as noisy as you wish. This room is conveniently soundproof.” He fastens his lips over my nipple and sucks hard, his mouth hot, the tug and pull exquisite. I drive my body upward, trying to dislodge him. I can’t. He’s too strong, too powerful, too mine.
“Show them, Henley.” I clasp his skull, seeking a handhold in his short hair. “Show them I belong to you.” I press his face against me. As he feasts on my right breast, he plays with my left nipple, the dual assault crazing me.
“Yes, yes.” I massage his scalp, encouraging him with my words, with my touch.
My right nipple throbs with sensation and Henley switches to my left breast, laving, licking, sucking my curves. All of his overwhelming intensity is focused on pleasing me and I’m helpless to resist him, my thighs shaking and my pussy dripping with moisture.
“Make me come.” I can’t find complete fulfillment from breast play alone. I need more stimulation. “Please.” I dig my nails into his skin and he hisses. “You know what I need.” I showed him this morning.
“I do know what you need.” He slides one of his hands up my skirt, cups my lace-covered mons, and I jerk against him. “But do you deserve to come?” Henley increases the pressure and I whimper, dangling on the sharp edge of fulfillment. He leaves me there for several heart-stopping moments, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit, winding me tighter and tighter.
“Henley,” I plead. My panties are soaked. My musk scents the air. “I’ve been punished enough.”
“Have you?” He moves up my body, covering me with his hard form. His breath wafts against my lips, our faces close. His gaze meets mine, his eyes dark, so very dark. “I don’t think you have.” He raises his big hand and I shake, tremors rolling over me.
He slaps my clit hard. I feel the impact through my thin panties and I open my mouth to scream. Henley swallows the sound, pressing his lips against mine, filling my mouth with his tongue. I buck, slammin
g my body against his, unable to move far, caged by his muscle.
Lights spin and the buzzing in my ears intensifies. He strokes into my mouth with his tongue and rubs my lace-covered pussy with his fingers, prolonging my release, draining all of my energy, all of me.
I collapse onto the stack of cardboard, lying limp and lifeless under him. Henley drapes his form over mine, his cock hard and his muscles tense. I was so wrapped up in my own orgasm, I hadn’t thought of his needs. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll return the favor,” I promise.
“You can return the favor tomorrow.” Henley pushes away from me and cool air rushes over my bare skin, harshening my return to reality.
“And if tomorrow never comes?” I sit up and button my blazer. “My father always says we should live for today; we might not have a tomorrow.” I know this truth too well. “This, right here, right now, might be all we ever have, Henley.” I hug my knees to my chest, fighting my sadness. “I don’t want to leave things undone.”
“We’ll have a tomorrow,” he states calmly, confidently.
I wish I could believe him, but I can’t. “You can’t promise me a tomorrow.” I jump off the stack of flattened boxes. “No one can.” I stuff my feet into my shoes. Earlier today, they were comfortable. Now they feel as though they’re a size too small.
“I can’t deal with this at the moment.” I open the door. The floor is silent, the lights low. “Everyone has left me.” I blink back tears I don’t have permission to shed.
“Everyone didn’t leave you.” Henley’s voice lowers. “The other employees simply went home.” He follows me as I limp toward my cubicle. “And I’m right behind you. I’ll walk you to your car.”
He’ll walk me to my car and then he’ll leave me. “I took a taxi.” My happy floral tote remains on top of my desk. I grasp it. “And I can leave the building on my own.” I hobble in the direction of the elevators, too tired of shielding my inner pain to summon a fake smile.
“You can’t leave the building on your own.” Henley slows his pace to match mine. “Passcards for interns only work until six o’clock.”
