by MINK
He stares at me. “You know this is a four hundred dollar Kobe steak?”
“It’s not polite to talk about money,” I whisper to him and pick up my fork. “Mr. Grumpy Pants only licked it and then turned his nose up, so I’m not so sure your steak is worth the price.”
“Miss Lavine.” He pushes his tray of food away.
“Hey, you have to eat that. It’s four hundred dollars,” I remind him. “Okay, maybe that’s only three hundred dollars’ worth since Mr. Grumpy Pants has the other hundred.”
“Miss Lavine.” He says my name more forcefully this time. My stomach does a little flutter of excitement. Is it coming? Have I gone too far now?
“Sunshine,” I remind him with a smile.
Bingo. He’s out of his chair.
“Save my desserts,” I say as he starts to make a motion to clear his desk. He lets out a string of curses that has my already-heating face turning an extra shade of red. He actually grabs my food and sets it aside. I pop up from my chair, too eager for what is coming.
“You should be eating a healthier lunch.”
“Hey, are you calling me fat?” I am a little on the curvy side but how could I not be with my killer baking skills?
“I take that back. Eat all the dessert. Your ass needs the extra meat on it.”
I gasp when he reaches out, rubbing my backside softly. “I’d hate for you to lose it. I’ll make sure there is always at least one dessert on the lunch menu.”
“We eat lunch together every day now? That’s not what the calendar said. I’m supposed to stick to the calendar. Tomorrow you have lunch with someone named Mr. Longway. Kurt was going to take me to--”
My words die off as he spins me around, pressing me down onto the desk. My skirt pulls up. “Sunshine.”
“Oops,” I breathe out. I can’t stop the wiggle I do. “I just forgot.” Okay. That’s a lie. Damn it. I hate to lie. “Okay, I didn't forget,” I admit.
“So you not only lied but you deliberately didn't wear panties today?” He makes a tsking sound. “The list of things you’ve done wrong today just keeps on growing. I’m not sure a spanking will be enough.”
My breathing picks up, and my heart starts to pound. I don’t know what to do with everything I’m feeling in this moment. So many emotions wash over me.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask. Again, I can’t stop myself from wiggling. His hand only roams over my backside softly like he’s thinking. So many dirty things come to mind. Things I’ve read in books but never once thought I’d do.
“You’ll be getting a spanking.” He gives me a quick slap. A moan slips from my lips. His hand rubs the spot then drifts lower toward my sex. I think about what he’ll find if he goes lower. I can almost guarantee it’s a wet sticky mess, but he stops right before he gets there. His hand drifts back up. I want to cry out for him to move it lower but my shyness gets the better of me. This is obviously a spanking and nothing more. I’m in trouble and must be disciplined. This line of thinking doesn’t help the throb between my legs.
“You’ll accompany me to a charity event on Friday.” He presses something hard against me. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making another sound of need. I’m almost sure it’s his erection. Is he as turned on as I am? Can he feel this, too? He’s so good at hiding how he feels. Whereas I show everything on my face. There’s no hiding how I am feeling. At least that’s what I think. Maybe I hide what I’m feeling behind a smile. Is that so different from what he is doing?
“A date?” I ask. Is he asking me out on a date? I want to turn to look at him, but again my shyness stops me, and I’m not sure I want to read his expression right now.
“No,” he says sharply.
“Okay. I’ll work Friday night.”
He gives me a hard smack. The sound rings out in the room. It almost seems as though he doesn’t like the fact that I said it was for work. His hand stings but not as much as his words do. I know him saying it’s not a date shouldn’t hurt, but it does and I can’t figure out why.
9
Liam
Professionalism. That is what my company is built on. There’s a reason I’m on every up-and-coming CEO list there is. I’m young but not impulsive, bold but not brash. Above all, I’m a consummate professional. I must maintain those standards.
Which is why I redden my sunshine’s ass with several hard strokes of my palm. She moans, her low keening cry a demand. One I must meet. So I give her more discipline, punishing her for the cat, the skirt, and most of all--for intentionally leaving her panties at home.
When she’s panting and her ass is the color of a ripe peach, I drop to my knees and kiss her sore spots, running my tongue along her silky flesh. After all, I’m not without mercy. It’s imperative that I treat my employees with respect even when I discipline them.
Moving lower, I grip her legs and spread them farther apart. Getting a view of the sweet pink skin between her legs sets off a hunger in me that far surpasses anything I’ve ever felt for my $400 steak.
Perhaps now is the time to demonstrate that, as a professional, I value my sunshine’s work. When I see her wetness, I know I’m right, so I delve my tongue along her trembling lips, tasting her cunt and groaning at the flavor.
She jerks and knocks my fountain pen off my desk.
I don’t care. I grip her thighs and bury my face in her ass, my tongue greedily taking everything she has to offer as she pants and squirms. But she isn’t escaping me. Not when I’m showing her employee appreciation time. My tongue darts into her tight hole, and I spread my lips wider, tasting and feeling every bit of her wet pussy.
Pulling back, I tongue her perfect little asshole, and she squeaks.
“Mr. Baxter!” She turns and looks at me, her eyes wide.
I tongue her again, her thighs shuddering as I bring one hand to her wet slit and press two fingers inside her. She jerks, her body tightening around me as I pull my fingers out and stroke her clit while I lick her, my tongue wild on her lips and ass.
Her hips shake, her body seizing, and she comes with a moan that goes straight to my cock. I press my fingers inside her, feeling how hard it hits her. Fuck. I need to be inside her to give her full punishment. Fucking her roughly, the way she deserves, is the only true way to correct my sunshine and let her know that she’s an important part of my team.
I rise to my feet and survey her red ass. This will have to do for now. Even though my cock aches, I can’t rush this. A good, seasoned employee takes time. Running my hands up her hips, I grab the hem of her skirt and pull it down.
Leaning over her, I pull her upright and press my cock against her ass. “Only the very naughtiest of employees get this, sunshine. I’ve never been pushed to give it to anyone before, but you are testing me.”
“Mmm.” She moves her hips, her ass rubbing against me until I grip her hard to stop her.
“Be a good employee, and you won’t have to worry about it.” I lean close to her neck, the need to run my tongue along her and mark her as mine almost overwhelming. But this is business. She’s new here. I must give her time to learn the proper way to be my assistant. It doesn’t matter what she makes me feel or how I can’t seem to stop thinking about her; she’s only here for one reason. Her father’s downfall.
With that sobering thought, I release her and back away. “The gala is an upper crust event, and you should dress accordingly.” I walk around my desk and manage to sit despite my erection demanding I do something about it. “There’s a company credit card in your desk. Middle drawer. Use it to buy the proper attire.”
Her tongue darts out again, wetting her bottom lip. I want to feel it against me, the softness of it, the heat.
“But it’s not a date?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.
“It’s professional.” I hate the way her face falls, my words dimming her shine. “But if you prefer to think of it as a date, you may.”
Her face lights up, and my sunshine is back. “A date.”
>
Why does that warm me? It’s not the superficial feeling of heat, the spark of lust I feel when I’m forced to discipline her, but something deeper. I don’t even recognize it, but I want more of it, and it seems I can only get it from her. From her smile. From her shine.
I turn to my lunch and wave a hand at her. “Eat, sunshine. Mr. Knight will be here soon to discuss my acquisition of a couple of his South American mines.”
“Yes, Mr. Baxter.” She sits and enjoys her desserts as I chew my already-cut steak.
“Why did you learn French?” I like the way she’s made neat cuts, portioning the slices the way I do it myself.
She shrugs, the color still high in her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”
“Why?”
“It just seems amazing. I’ve read so many guidebooks and thought about going for years.”
“Why not go?” I have the urge to hand feed her, but I ignore it.
“Money.”
“But your father is--” I pause. “I mean, I’ve heard your father is a man of means.”
“He is.” She drops her gaze. “But he left my mom and me when I was little, and there was no prenup. So she got nothing, he took everything, and we had to make do.”
“You had to go without?” I spear a piece of steak a bit too violently, the tray scooting across my desk.
“Not too much. Mom worked. She was raised to marry a rich man and never have a job, but when he left her, she never wanted to marry again. She started a pet grooming service, and she still does it. I help sometimes when I go visit on the weekends.”
“Cat grooming?” I didn’t even realize that existed.
“Mostly dogs.” She licks the icing from one of her small cupcakes. “But sometimes there are cats. I prefer them because they can be so prickly.”
“You like prickly?”
She looks up, her mouth turning up in a small smile. “The prickliest things need the most love, I find.”
I take a large drink of water. “And now you have a grumpy cat. So you’ve found the prickliest thing on earth to take care of.”
Her smile grows, brightening everything in the room. “One of the prickliest things on earth, yes.”
That feeling rises inside me again, the one that’s akin to heartburn.
“What about you? Do you have any pets?”
“No.”
“Are you close with your parents?” She tries a chocolate mousse.
“My mom and I still talk, but my father’s dead.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “I’m sorry.”
I sigh. “It was a while back, but that feeling never goes away. Or maybe, I guess it needs more time . . .”
She reaches across my desk and takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
The employee handbook likely frowns on this sort of familiarity, but I let it go. Maybe because I like the feel of her warm skin against mine. Maybe because I’m turning out to be a bit of a rebel when it comes to my own rules.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand then return it so she can finish her lunch. “In any case, I put myself through school and became the youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company, so all’s well that ends well.”
“Are you happy?” She nibbles a cherry.
I chew my steak and think about her question. Happy. That’s not something I’ve ever endeavored to be. Wealthy? Yes. Successful? Yes. Envied? Yes. But happy has never entered the equation. Not until … I look her in the eye.
“The lunch hour is over.” I lay my silverware down and push the tray to her, then turn to my computer screen.
“Okay.” She gives me a secret smile, one that I’ve never seen her give anyone else.
After stacking the trays, she turns, and I look up, taking in her peppy little strut to my door. When she opens it, Mr. Grumpy Pants is there giving me a rude stare, then he turns, his tail in the air, and trots away.
10
Georgia
I click through the dresses one after another, not sure which would be best. I wish Mr. Baxter was in the office. That way I could go into his office and ask him which one he likes. I want to make sure I’m getting something he approves of, and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. Maybe we should match? Do I need to worry about what color my dress is? Does it need to go with the little handkerchief that men put in their suit pockets? Do I need one of those flower things? Or is that for prom? I wouldn’t know because no one asked me to prom, so I didn’t go. I have a ton of questions, and I’m not sure what to do.
Maybe I should send him screenshots of the dresses I like? I could go down to the store and try them on and Facetime. This makes more sense to me, and it’s not because I want to know what he’s up to. His calendar is marked unavailable. I don’t know when he changed it but it’s been that way all morning.
I’ve sent him emails on other work-related items, and he promptly responded to them. I also asked if I needed to cancel his lunch with Mr. Longway, and he said he’d already handled it. Does he not think I’m capable of doing it?
I wiggle in my seat. It’s so hard to break rules when he’s not here to see me do it or give me my punishment. Him not being here feels like a punishment in itself. My phone buzzes across my desk. I look down to see my dad’s name. I normally answer his calls, mostly because they are few and far between. It’s been months, maybe a year, since we spoke last.
I reach for my phone but can’t bring myself to click the answer button. I’m working. I shouldn’t be taking personal calls. Now, if Mr. Baxter were here I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d talk extra long and loud enough to let him know it wasn’t a work call. That would probably earn me a spanking. My face heats thinking about it. I've had trouble concentrating since he put his face between my thighs and made me his lunch. Now I’m concerned about whoever else he’s having lunch with. I fold my arms over my chest and glare at the pretty dresses on the screen.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks.
I look up at him, not having heard him approach my desk.
“Nothing.” I put on a smile. Mr. Grumpy Pants jumps on my desk, glaring at him. He’s so adorable that my forced smile turns into a real one as I pet his soft head. I should get him a little suit for the event on Friday. He seems to be enjoying his vest. He might not get to go with me to the gala, but he could look the part for the night. Who doesn't like getting all dolled up when they get the chance?
“Sushi?” Kurt asks.
I’d completely forgotten he asked me to go to lunch yesterday. I thought I’d be having lunch with Mr. Baxter. I’d been looking forward to it. The man’s mouth might always be set in a firm hard line, but not when it was between my legs. Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I just thought that.
“Are you okay? You’re turning red.”
“Hot,” I say. “Just feeling a little hot today.” I take off my pink cardigan that has silver sequins on the sleeves.
“Well, it’s a little chilly out, so you might want to put it back on before we head out.”
“I don’t think I can make it,” I admit. I point to my screen. “I need to go dress shopping for the event this Friday with Mr. Baxter.”
Kurt’s eyes bounce from my computer screen and back to me. “Wait. You’re going with him?”
“It’s not normal for him to sometimes go with his assistant?” I ask. I’ve been wondering how he handled the ones before me. The assistants everyone said were gone as quickly as they got here. Did he spank them, too? The thought sours my stomach, ruining the idea of any lunch. Mr. Baxter said only I tempted him to go further when he pressed his hard length into me. Did that mean he’d spanked others but he just never thought about doing more? I want more. I want it so badly that my body aches for it. The orgasm he gave me has only added fuel to whatever this is that’s growing inside me, and now he isn’t even here to help fix it.
“Liam isn’t known to take anyone to events, especially not his assistants. He has one friend and that’s Bradley.”
“He’s nice.” Extra
flirty but nice. I think he flirts to get attention and laughs, which works for him. I’ve noticed he does it with a lot of the women around here. They laugh and think he’s funny, then watch him with hungry eyes when he walks away. I don’t think he cares for me much. He doesn't treat me like the other women, but he does give Mr. Grumpy Pants a few pets.
“Yeah, nice. That’s Bradley,” Kurt says with a touch of sarcasm.
He peeks at my screen again. “That store is across from the sushi place. Have lunch with me, then you can pop into the store and try some stuff on. You’ll need to be fitted anyway.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” I hop up from my chair. I reach into my desk and grab the black Amex card and my purse. I remember to forward the calls this time. What’s the point of being bad if no one’s here to punish you?
“He gave you his credit card?” Kurt walks beside me to the elevator.
“Yeah.” I get on with him as he hits the button to the bottom floor. “Is that weird?”
“It’s something.” He shakes his head. My cell phone rings again. I go for it, hoping it’s Mr. Baxter, but again my dad’s name comes up. I send him to voicemail. It rings again, so I send him to voicemail again. I don’t have time for whatever mind games he wants to play with me.
“You and the boyfriend having a fight?” Kurt winks at me. “Is he mad you’re going on a date with Mr. Baxter?”
“So it is a date?” I smile. Mr. Baxter said I could call it that but I still wasn't sure.
“This is?” He opens the door for me as we step out of the building.
My mouth forms an O. “This is a date?” I ask. Not good. This is kind of the same thing that happened with Mike, who actually hasn't emailed me in a few days.
I thought we were friends. He thought we’d been dating.
