by MINK
“Relax, Georgia, it’s just lunch and dress shopping.”
“You’re going dress shopping with me?” I thought he was just going to show me where the store was after lunch.
“You seemed worried over which to pick. I think I can help.” He takes my arm as we walk through the brisk air. “I’ll be at the event, too. My family always gets an invitation to the gala.”
“Oh.” I wonder if he’s figured out who my father is. I hope not. There’s a reason I don’t put that information out there.
Kurt leads me to the sushi place and orders for me before I can even look at the menu. My fingers twist with each other as we wait for the food. I know I’m going to see my father at the event. It’s the charity he hosts every year. I don’t hate the man. It’s hard for me to hate anyone. I always make excuses for him. At least that’s what July says. I’m mad at him, but I don’t think I hate him.
Kurt and I make small talk, though I kind of miss most of it. My mind is everywhere but on having lunch and being polite to Kurt. I hope I’m not coming off rude. One good thing comes out of this lunch--I realize I hate sushi. I get a to-go box and hope Mr. Grumpy Pants might like it. He’s probably snoozing at my desk or wandering around getting pets. He kept going into Mr. Baxter’s office like he was looking for him. I think he likes him, but is playing hard to get and being extra pissy because Mr. Baxter isn’t in the office today.
“We can try something else tomorrow for lunch if you like?” Kurt suggests.
“I’m sorry. I guess sushi just isn't my thing.” I feel kind of bad I didn't eat much. Then he went and paid for it, which makes me feel even worse.
“Don’t sweat it.” He elbows me lightly. “We have tomorrow.”
“I think I have lunch with Mr. Baxter.” If he’s in the office.
“He eats lunch with you too?” His eyebrows furrow together. “This is getting weirder and weirder.” He smiles about this, confusing me, as we walk to the dress shop.
“Here we are.” He opens one of the doors to the fancy store. With his other hand, he motions to a woman. “Carrie, can you help Georgia here? She’s going to the Seven Oaks Charity Gala this Friday and needs a dress.”
Before I know it, dresses are flying in and out of the changing room. Kurt is nice enough to take pictures of the potential winners for me. I love so many of them that I don’t know which one to pick.
I scroll through the photos. “I think I’ll send these to Mr. Baxter and see if he favors any.”
“You do that.” Kurt laughs.
I fire off the text messages, sending picture after picture.
Me: Do you like any of these?
I wait and wait. I guess he’s scrolling through them. I send at least ten. Finally my phone dings.
Mr. Baxter: Is that Kurt?
I look around to see if Mr. Baxter is here. How would he know that I’m with Kurt? Then I look back at the pictures. There’s a mirror. When Kurt took the photos, there was a reflection of him in each of them.
Me: He’s helping me pick out a dress. If you were at the office today, maybe you could have helped.
My finger lingers over the send button, and I know this is going to get me in trouble. I hit send.
“I’ll take them all,” I tell the excited sales lady. “Do you have anything in cat sizes?” I ask as she starts to ring me up.
She gives me a strange look and shakes her head.
I don’t even pay attention to the total; I just hand over Mr. Baxter’s black card and know that I’m definitely going to get a spanking for this.
11
Liam
The elevator isn’t moving fast enough. I stab the button again and again as the carriage rises at its usual rate. I intended to get some distance today, to clear my head. After all, Georgia Lavine is just a means to an end. My obsession with her--that is to say, my burning need to make her an exemplary employee--is fogging my vision. So I decided to work from home. But then … But then, she went on a lunch date with that piece of shit Kurt? No. This cannot stand.
When the doors open, I burst into the hall and storm toward my office.
My sunshine is sitting there, her eyes on me, her mouth slightly open, her infernal cat perched on the corner of her desk.
“Mr. Baxter, I didn’t expect you back until--”
“My office. Now.” I shove the doors open and walk to my desk.
She comes in--no knock--and hurries over to me. Color is already high in her cheeks, and her nipples are hard under her pink sweater. My mouth waters, and I decide it’s time I get a look at her. All of her. But first …
“Bend over.” I grit the words out. “Hands on my desk.”
“Did I do something wrong?” She looks at me, her words highlighted with hints of deviousness.
“You know what you did.” I grip her hips and splay my hand on her upper back, pushing her to my desk. Her round ass juts out, her skirt giving me a perfect view of her thick thighs.
“I was just trying to get a dress you’d like,” she whimpers.
“With Kurt?” I hike her skirt all the way up. “No panties,” I hiss.
“Oops.” She spreads her legs a little wider, giving me a view of her wet cunt.
She’s breaking me, destroying my professionalism with each drop of sweetness she unleashes. I want to shove inside her so hard she feels me for a week, to feel her squeezing my cock until I come all over her round ass, coating her with me.
I fight it, trying to maintain my composure. “This discipline is necessary for your continued professional growth.” I rub her ass, then hit her harder than I ever have.
She jerks forward, and a moan escapes her lips as I add two more quick blows.
“You know it was naughty to have lunch with Kurt and go dress shopping with him.” I smack her hard, then rub her warm skin. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“You know it was naughty to tease me by not wearing panties. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” She squirms as I slap her ass again and again, her hips moving with me as I lower my aim, slapping the back of her wet cunt.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t want to be a good employee.” I grip her by the hair and pull her upright.
“I do,” she cries.
With a hard pull, I yank her sweater off and throw it to the floor. She gasps as I unclasp her bra and let it drop to my desk. Reaching around her, I cup her breasts and pinch her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, twisting them as I grind my cock into her bare ass.
“You want to be a good assistant?” I growl into her ear.
Her hips press against me as I dry fuck her.
“Yes, Mr. Baxter.”
I squeeze her nipples harder and harder until she moans, her head falling back so I can get a view of her light pink nipples. Her heavy breasts are perfect in my hands, and I know I have to bite them, to leave my mark.
Stepping back, I order, “Turn around, sunshine.”
She does, her skirt still bunched at her waist. Her eyes glisten with tears, and I lean forward and lick the one that escapes onto her right cheek. She shivers. I can’t go another second without touching her. Lifting her onto my desk, I press between her thighs and bend down to suck one of her hard nipples into my mouth.
Her hands run through my hair as I suck, lick, and bite her. Moving my mouth down to the tender skin on the inside of her breast, I bite.
She gasps, her fingers gripping me tighter as I leave a red bite mark on her. I do the same to her other breast, leaving my mark, then suck her nipple until she’s panting, her hips thrusting, her body trembling. I want to eat her pussy until she screams, but she’s been so naughty. So, so naughty. Punishment must be thorough or else she’ll stray again. And even though I intend to fire her in the near future, I need her to know the proper way to comport herself in an office setting.
“You’ve been such a bad assistant today.” I lick up her chest and eye her mouth. I haven’t claimed her there,
haven’t given in to my burning need to kiss her. Because this isn’t about the warm feeling that she puts inside me, the passion she lights under my skin. This is professional.
Pulling her from my desk, I guide her to her knees. Her pink tongue darts out and wets her lips as her gaze goes to my cock.
“This is what you need, sunshine. The discipline you require to learn.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Take my cock out, sunshine.”
Her trembling hands unbuckle my belt, then pull down my boxer briefs. My cock springs out, and when she breathes on it, it jerks.
I rest my hands on the desk behind her. “This is a lesson. One you need to take to heart.”
“Yes, sir.” She can’t take her eyes from my cock, and she spreads her knees, opening her pussy.
“Grip it and suck it.”
Her small hand goes around my base, and she wraps her lips around my head. I groan and push forward, pinning her against the front panel of my desk. Pushing deeper into her mouth, I force myself to pull back, to be in control.
She gags a little, her eyes turning up to me.
“Punishment, sunshine. You brought this on yourself.”
She nods on my cock, then takes it deeper again.
I put one hand in her soft hair, gripping her tightly as I guide her up and down my shaft. Her tongue slides along the underside as she squeezes with her hand. I pump into her hot mouth, the faint hardness of her teeth sending more heat pooling in my shaft. Her eyes water as I reach the back of her throat, her mouth open so wide, her hips grinding against air as I fuck her sweet lips.
“I’m going to come on your tits, sunshine. I want to see me all over those pink nipples.”
She moans, the vibration from her throat rocketing pleasure through me as she bobs her head back and forth on my cock. I can’t take my eyes from her, from the way her hand rests at my base, her lips stroking my hard flesh, her eyes eager to please.
When I’m at the edge, I pull out. “Stroke me.”
She does, running her hand up and down my shaft as I groan out my release, my cum spurting all over her tits as she leans back and watches. She runs a fingertip through it and brings it to her mouth, tasting me as I grip the desk, my knuckles going white as my release settles, my cock still at half-mast.
I want to rub my cum into her skin, to leave myself on her so that any man who comes near her will know she’s taken. But that’s ridiculous, of course. This isn’t a relationship sort of thing. This is just discipline that she sorely needs.
I back away and fix my pants. I should leave it at this. She doesn’t get an orgasm, not after what she did today. This is punishment, after all. But then she drags her finger through my cum again and licks it.
Fuck, she’s too goddamn sexy. And her curvy body would weaken any man. I let my gaze stray lower to her wet pussy, and that’s when I know I’m lost. Yanking her up from the floor, I sit her on my desk again, drop to my knees, and feast on her, licking every bit of her wetness and plunging my tongue into her again and again as she clutches my hair. I can’t stop, not when her thighs shake, and I lick her clit furiously.
She comes on a cry, my name--my first name, Liam--on her lips as I suck and fuck her with my tongue and fingers. When I’ve lapped up the last of her wetness and swallowed her final aftershock, I stand and meet her eyes.
“Don’t make me have to do all this again, sunshine.” I want to kiss her, but I don’t. I maintain that distance, because I’m a professional. “Be a good assistant, and this will be the end of it. Be bad and . . .” And I may go too far, I may claim her sweet cunt with every inch of me until she doesn’t know where I end and she begins.
She bites her lip. “And?”
I lean closer and stroke her clit with my fingertip. “And I’ll really give you something to cry about.”
12
Georgia
Is it normal to want to cry?
I hit search on Google for my question. I’m immediately bombarded by all kinds of things that make me want to cry, but not in the way I’m thinking. I click out of the search faster than I clicked into it. I’m pretty sure none of these things are what I’m looking for.
I’d felt the tear that slipped onto my face when I’d come undone in Mr. Baxter’s office. He’d licked it from my cheek. It had confused me, because sadness was the furthest thing that I’d felt in that moment. I’d been consumed with so many emotions, and I wanted more. I’m addicted to the pleasure that he gives me. Or maybe I’m addicted to him.
I search funny kitten pictures instead, to get the sad faces out of my mind. My mom cried a lot when I was younger, so to me, tears mean sadness, and that’s not at all how I’m feeling. I pet Mr. Grumpy Pants as I swipe through pictures. I show him a couple, but he’s unimpressed.
“Are you worried your suit isn't going to fit?” I tease him. I had to order it online. I did the overnight shipping so it should be here tomorrow. “Tomorrow feels like forever.” I groan, flopping back onto my sofa. I’ll have to wait all these hours to see Mr. Baxter again.
My phone rings in my hand, and I see it’s my father. I don’t answer. I don’t clear him either, or he’d know it. I let it ring until it goes to voicemail. I should probably talk to him. But I’ll be seeing him this Friday anyway at the charity event, so maybe I should get the small talk out of the way. Maybe then it won’t be so awkward when we do see one another.
I don’t know how he’s going to feel about me going. He tries to invite me every year, and every year I politely decline. Dealing with my father is always hard. Can you love and hate someone at the same time? Maybe this is like the whole wanting to cry ordeal. No, I won’t compare those two. Mr. Baxter has made me feel things I never want to forget. My father, on the other hand, not so much. There are so many things that I wish I could wash away from my memories. I strive to be a nice person, but he makes it so hard.
“Gah!” I shout.
Mr. Grumpy Pants jumps up and runs away from me. “Sorry,” I call after him.
I should get it over with. I know Mom hates him. She’s told me to let it go and move on but I still get a tiny bit mad for her. How he treated her wasn’t right. Even my grandmother on my father's side knew how he was. It’s why she left me the small trust for college. She wanted me to have a future, and she knew he’d turned into a selfish jerk so she did whatever she could for me. My father hated that she left me that money, and to this day he continues to throw it in my face--accusing me of robbing him under his nose.
I knew better than to listen to him, though. His opinion never really mattered to me. My father's real issue with my grandmother leaving me that money was that he wanted to be the one to put me through college. Not because he was doing it to be a good dad, but because he wanted the control over me. That’s how he operates. That’s why I don’t ask him for anything.
I pop up from my sofa when a knock sounds at my door. Could it be Mr. Baxter? Maybe he misses me or something. I smirk. Or maybe it’s because I forgot to do a handful of things on my to-do list before I left the office. Could he be here to punish me? My nipples grow hard under my thin shirt. I’ve already changed into my pajamas for the night. Why don’t I have cute pajamas instead of ones with kittens on them? Wait. These are cute. I meant sexy. Why don’t I own anything sexy? It doesn't matter. He’s here and I’m sure I won’t be wearing any pajamas for too long. That thought puts a smile on my face.
I swing open the door and come to a dead stop when I see my father. “Dad?”
He’s never been to my place before. I’m not sure what the heck he’s even doing here.
“You know how to answer a phone?” he snips at me before pushing past me to get into my place. “Of course you do. You’re Liam Baxter’s new PA. You know how to answer a fucking phone.”
“Nice to see you too, Dad.” I let the door fall closed behind him.
Mr. Grumpy Pants raises his hackles as my dad passes by. I smile at that little loyal cutie pie and mentally rem
ind myself to give him extra treats. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, and it’s hard to keep the unhappy tone from my voice.
“He’s using you.” He throws his hands up.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say if anyone can spot someone using someone it’s him, because he does it all the time.
“Who?” I go with instead. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. I try to live by that motto, but most people ignore it.
“Your new boss, Mr. Baxter. He’s using you to get to me, but we all know that it won’t work.” I know he sees the small look of shock on my face before I rein it in. “He’s after my company. He wants me to sell it to him and I’ve turned him down. This is his last-ditch attempt to get me to fold.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I know that he’s warning me for my own good but also to somehow benefit himself. Mr. Grumpy Pants rubs himself on my leg to show his support. I pick him up, because I feel awkward having my dad in my house, and I need to do something with my hands. My dad turns to walk closer to me, but my sweet boy hisses, stopping him in his tracks.
“You’re still my daughter, and your actions reflect on your family name. Remember that.” He gives me one of his disappointing head shakes. “I know you like to live in that head of yours. Everything isn't sunshine and rainbows. This is the real world. Your grandma and mom got away with sheltering you, but now it’s time to grow up.”
He turns, heading for the door, and opens it. “He’s like me, sweet Georgia. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. Don’t let him play you for a fool. He’s just using you to needle me.”
His words are like cold water being splashed onto me. He’s like me runs on a loop as he leaves my apartment. I know my father’s not done. He’ll have more things to throw my way. It’s how he works. He throws a bomb then waits for you to start to clean up the emotional mess that he left you in, only to return and drop another. It’s why I try and keep my distance. The thing that’s really bothering me is the thought of Mr. Baxter being like my father. Is that who he really is?
