by Madison Faye
He leveled his eyes at me. “Are you up for the task, Ms. Wilder?”
That steely gaze, that voice, that hint of flirtation in his words; it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
But was he actually still offering me the job? After what— well, after what we’d done?
“I am, sir.”
As soon as I uttered the words, I wished I’d asked for more time to consider. His reaction though, was immediate.
“Excellent.” He nodded crisply as he rose from his chair and approached me with a confident stride. I found myself shivering under that gaze as he approached, quickly looking down and smoothing my skirt.
“The position is yours then, Ms. Wilder,” he purred.
I froze before slowly daring to raise my eyes to him again. “Sir?” I looked at him quizzically, not fully understanding what had just transpired. “I—”
“There will be rules, Ms. Wilder.” His voice darkened, his eyes glinting at me. “A young lady such as yourself under my employ will be expected to conduct herself in the manner befitting of the position.”
I nodded.
“A young lady such as yourself under my employ will be expected to behave,” he growled, and I suddenly felt myself captivated by that gaze, my whole body tingling under it.
“And if you do not behave…” His eyes darkened even further as the hint of a smile turned the corners of his mouth.
“If you do not behave, there will be consequences.”
I found myself nodding before I could even think about it. “Yes, sir.”
“Would you care to think about it? I believe in well informed and deliberate execution when it comes to decisions such as these Ms. Wilder.” His eyes glinted as he confidently held my gaze. “So, when you answer, I’d like it to be a final answer. I’d rather not waste your time and mine with further deliberation on a decision I’ve already made.”
I felt my blush creep up from under the collar of my blouse, spreading across my neck and cheeks.
“So, I will say once more, the position — should you accept — is yours, Ms. Wilder. Provided you can behave.”
The shiver moved through my body, teasing over my skin, warming me in places I knew it shouldn’t, considering the circumstances. It moved lower, teasing its way between my legs as the memory of that night came rushing back.
The night he took me. The night he demanded pleasure from my body.
The night he claimed me as his own.
And I knew I should walk away. I knew — however lucrative and important for making connections — a job like this with that sort of history looming there was nothing I needed. A man like this was nothing I needed.
…Even if he was something I wanted.
Even if I couldn’t for the life of me stop thinking about the things he’d done to me, and the way he’d made me feel.
The way he’d made me come.
All of those were very valid reasons for not taking the job, and I knew it.
But then, my mouth opened, and the words came out before I could stop them.
“I accept then, sir,” I said, looking into his gray eyes.
He smiled darkly and put his hand out. Slowly, I placed my hand in his and immediately felt the electricity, the warmth, the strength, and the power in his large hand as it enveloped my own much smaller one. It was firm, powerful, and I felt a shiver run up my spine.
“Excellent, Ms. Wilder.” He smiled down at me. “We’ll be leaving next week for Paris, but I expect you should come by before then to meet the children you’ll be caring for.”
I moved in a blurred daze as his hand left mine and he escorted me from the room. We left his study and walked towards the marble foyer of the house. He opened the heavy, oak front door to the sounds of a still, winter evening in Boston.
“My driver is bringing the car around now to take you home.”
I nodded as I turned. “Thank you, sir, for—”
“I’ll expect you tomorrow,” he said brusquely as a black town car pulled up the driveway. I began to turn again when his voice stopped me.
“Ms. Wilder.”
I turned again, and instantly, my body melted. Because there on his face, was the exact same look he’d had that night. It was the look when he’d told me — no, demanded — that I follow him.
It was the look he’d had right before he’d made me whimper for him.
Before he’d made me soaking wet for him.
Before he’d made me come as he claimed my innocence.
“Remember,” he growled. “We have rules in this house.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I gasped as he moved closer, towering over me, making my pulse throb in my veins.
“Rules, Ms. Wilder. And good girls follow those rules.” His eyes glinted. “And bad girls get punished.”
I felt it in my whole body — the aching, throbbing pull of want for him. The almost drug-like way my body instantly craved his touch again. The way I wanted to drop to my knees right there on his door step and worship his cock like I had that night.
And the look on his face said he knew exactly what I was thinking as he moved to open the door to the car for me.
“Until tomorrow, Ms. Wilder.”
In the car ride home, I sat quietly, my heart racing in the backseat as the black Lincoln sped across the bridge back to Cambridge.
Colin Kensington.
The man from that night.
The man who made my cry out and claw at his shoulders as he slipped his thick cock inside of me.
Was now my employer.
This was going to be a very interesting winter break.
3
Colin
Her.
I’d felt it the second I stepped into my study — like I could feel her damn presence or something. And then I’d laid eyes on her again, and the whole thing came rushing back to me. The sweet girl from the club. Clearly out of her element, clearly unaware of how goddamn vulnerable she appeared despite the sultry dress, the makeup, and the liquid courage.
She’d drawn me in like a moth to a flame that night. She ensnared me in that place I had no business being. A man of my standing only went to private clubs, with exclusive clientele, with members lists that included government officials and royalty. A man of my standing didn’t go to obnoxiously loud, crowded, cheap nightclubs full of college kids. Why had I gone that night?
I didn’t rightly know, truth be told. I supposed for a change of pace — a chance to forget, an excuse to be invisible. Helen called that day, I supposed that had something to do with it. Helen with her outrageous demands and threats of legal action — however implausible — always made my blood roar. I suppose that day I just needed something more besides the usual scotch in my office or the company of those in my usual club.
I needed something more visceral.
Something more anonymous.
Which is why I’d stepped into that club. I’d traded Armani for jeans and a cheap leather jacket. I’d given up twenty-eight year-old single-malt for bourbon on the rocks. And I’d traded the storm going through my head for a sweet, sweet escape, with a far too cute, far too innocent, and far too good girl who didn’t know she was baiting a wolf when she’d spoken to me at the bar.
A girl who I’d devoured in that bathroom. A girl who’d cried out and begged me for more when I’d taken her hard and fast, fucking her like a man possessed.
Fast forward a week, and she was standing in my goddamn study. Fast forward a week, and the girl who’d clawed at my skin, who’d dropped to her knees and sucked my cock as I’d gripped her hair, who’d moaned like my own personal slut as I’d fucked her against the bathroom wall, turns out to be her. The highly praised, highly lauded honor student. The college sophomore at Harvard whom my old friend Richard Rice couldn’t speak higher of in regards to becoming my au pair for the holidays.
I should have been angry. I should have been worried that a girl like that would apply for a position like this. She sho
uld have been the first one I’d excused from my study.
Except that wasn’t what happened at all. Because seeing her had ignited something inside of me. Seeing her again was visceral — it clawed at me inside.
Seeing her again had gotten me harder than stone, and had awoken the beast inside that just screamed for more.
I wanted more of her.
Isabella Wilder — four-point-two grade point average, economics wonder-student. Sweet, blonde, innocent, and pure.
Except I knew that’s not all there was to her. I knew how she could beg for my cock. I knew how her mouth felt as she moaned around me. I knew how sweet her pussy tasted, and I knew how her brow wrinkled when she came. I knew she let me fuck her like a beast in the bathroom of a nightclub.
And none of that turned me away. None of that had me sending her away.
In fact, it’d done the opposite. Against every better judgement, against every careful practiced method of self-restraint, I’d goddamn hired her for the position.
Maybe Helen was right. Maybe I was out of control.
But whatever led us here, this is where we were. The girl I’d dreamed about since that one anonymous night, the one who’s sweet, innocent body I craved like an addict for the last seven days, was now my employee.
And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to taste her again.
I’d be damned if wasn’t going to consume her, claim her, and make her scream for me all over again.
Consequences be damned.
4
Isabella
I panted, running the last block up the hill to Colin Kensington’s townhouse — wet, freezing, and frantic.
The trains had been delayed. Of course, on my first day, they’d been delayed. I’d even gotten out three stops earlier and hailed a cab, but that had hit traffic from the pile-up of snow that fell the night before. So, I’d gotten out and started running, but I’d only made it a step or two before my heel hit ice and sent me sprawling into a pile of snow and slush. I gasped at the shock of it, the freezing cold slushy mix soaking my stockings, my skirt, and even going up under my coat to soak into my blouse.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
My first day working for a billionaire, and I was going to look like a refugee. What could be worse? Oh right, I was late.
And that was the state I’d been in when I pounded on the front door, mumbling an apology to the butler as I pushed past him inside.
“Mr. Kensington has been expecting you,” he said crisply as I stood there panting and trying to tuck my hair back from my face.
“Pardon?”
The man’s face was neutral. “You are late, Ms. Wilder.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, the train got—”
“Please wait for Mr. Kensington in his study,” he said quietly, cutting me off. “This way.”
I tried to catch my breath as he led me through the house, back to the room from the night before.
“Mr. Kensington will be a moment.”
I nodded as he shut the door, leaving me alone in that room.
I quickly peeled my jacket off, groaning at the state of my clothes. I looked a mess. I quickly moved to a mirror on the wall beside the fireplace, scowling as I tried to fix my hair and wiped at my shirt with a napkin from my bag. I was so frantic in trying to fix it all that I never heard him enter.
“You’re late.”
I gasped, whirling to come face to face with him.
He shook his head. “On your first day, nonetheless.”
“I’m so sorry, sir!” I said quickly, noting the way he smirked as I used the title.
“The trains were backed-up, and—”
“I need you here on time, Ms. Wilder.”
I stared at him. “I’m aware of that, sir,” I said pointedly, feeling the heat bloom in my face. “But as I said, the trains—”
“You’ll be paid to follow orders, Ms. Wilder,” he snapped. “Not debate them.”
I froze, swallowing the rest of my anger as I nodded. God, that look again. He looked angry, but there was something there beneath the surface — something dark and raging like a storm. Again, the same look he’d given me at the nightclub, when I’d let him steal me away.
His eyes dropped to my clothes, and his brow wrinkled. “What on earth are you wearing?”
I stared at him, stilling trying to push down my anger at the accusation of willfully being late. “Excuse me?”
His nostrils flared. “I asked you a question, Ms. Wilder. What are you wearing?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I was running to get here and I slipped on some ice.”
He nodded, his eyes still moving over my body in a way that had me tingling in ways it probably shouldn’t have.
Because whatever happened before — whatever insanity possessed me that night when I’d decided to be done with it and just lose my virginity to a stranger — we were past that now. Now, he was my employer, and it was time to put what had happened before behind us. He obviously had.
He shook his head, as if disapproving.
“I’m—” I stammered. “I’m sorry, sir.”
His eyes traveled over me once more, before slowly they moved to lock with my own. I shivered again at the flash of something dark in them.
“Take them off.”
I froze, my brows going up. “Excuse me?”
“I said take them off, Ms. Wilder,” he growled, his eyes flashing at me.
I swallowed, squirming under that gaze “Um, Mr.—” I quickly shook my head. “Sir, I don’t think that’s—”
I gasped as he strode towards me, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on me in that way that had me melting under that gaze.
“Good girls, Ms. Wilder,” he murmured as his hand moved up to cup my chin. I gasped at the contact, his hand sending an electric tease through my skin as his eyes blazed into mine.
“Good girls do what they’re told,” he growled. “And bad girls get punished.”
Oh, shit.
And just like that, I was putty for him, just like before. Just like that, I felt the roaring desire course through me, my panties growing hot and soaking wet, my nipples stiffening to points under my wet blouse.
“Sir—”
“Off, Ms. Wilder,” he said softly but firmly.
And slowly, against every rational thought, and against every bit of me that screamed that this was wrong, I nodded.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
And he grinned.
“H-here?”
He nodded, his eyes flashing at me as he slowly stepped back and sank into a rich leather armchair in the corner of the room. “Right here, Ms. Wilder.”
I swallowed, feeling my heart thud in my chest. I knew I should have run out of that room. I knew I should have left, never looked back, and gone and found some crappy job for the winter break.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I slowly brought my hands to my blouse, and started to unbutton it.
Colin’s eyes flashed as he watched me, his jaw tight as he slowly nodded with each button. I made my way down the row until there were no more, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room.
“Off,” he said, commanding.
I nodded as I shrugged the wet shirt off my shoulders, letting it drop until I was standing there in my skirt, stockings, and bra.
“The skirt, if you would.”
I bit my lip and stared at him, feeling the heat creep through me as I reached behind myself and tugged at the zipper. Slowly, it complied, and slowly, I peeled the skirt down my hips until it dropped to my feet.
Colin growled as I stood there before him in only my bra, panties, and black thigh-high stockings.
“Come here,” he whispered darkly, crooking his finger at me to approach him,
And I did, feeling my pulse hammer with every step as I made my way forward until I stood before him. He looked up at me, those gray eyes blazing, and even though I knew this was wrong — even though he was my boss, and so much older t
han me — there was only one thing I wanted in that moment.
Only one thing I craved.
I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to take me, and make me beg like he did before. I wanted to feel dirty with him again. I needed to feel that sweet, delicious fullness of his cock filling and stretching me to the brim as he pulled on my hair and demanded that I come.
I looked down at him, squeezing my legs together, feeling the heat from his gaze burn into me.
“Here,” he growled, nodding down at his lap.
I gasped. “Sir?”
“Here,” he said, his eyes flashing as he spat the word out.
And God help me, I nodded. I nodded, knowing full well what he wanted, knowing full well how inappropriately wet it was getting me.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered. And slowly, I knelt and crawled across his lap.
I moaned at the feel of his body against mine, the feel of muscular thighs through his expensive suit, the sensation of that luxe fabric brushing my breasts. I whimpered as I felt his hands on my skin, moving and pulling me into the position he wanted, and I blushed furiously as I felt him pull at my hips, my panty-covered ass raised in the air.
I panted, feeling the blood rush through me, the desire throbbing between my legs at whatever the hell I was doing. This was insanity. This was nuts, and yet, I was powerless to say no to him.
I didn’t want to say no to him.
“You were late, Ms. Wilder,” he growled. I gasped as I felt the palm of his hand brush over my ass.
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“You were a bad girl.”
I nodded and suddenly gasped out loud as his hand swatted at my ass.
“Say it,” he said darkly.
“I was a bad girl!” I gasped, biting my lip as I felt the unmistakable throb of his big cock beneath his suit pants against my stomach.
“And bad girls get punished,” he murmured.