Her Only Desire

by Delilah Devlin

  Listening to the sounds around them, she shivered, glad she had someone like Jonesy near. Otherwise, she’d be jumping like a frightened rabbit at every watery splash or crackle in the underbrush.

  “There’s a gator’s nest across the way,” he said, pointing to the far side of the narrow canal where tall grass was flattened over a mound of dirt.

  She sidled closer to Jonesy, who gave her a level stare that she returned without explanation.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Tilly,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice.

  Lord, she liked the way these men talked. “Can we go back?” she asked, rubbing her arms.

  He nodded and waved a hand toward the trail they’d come down. “I’ll follow.”

  Although the hour wasn’t yet noon, the air was thick and muggy, hard to breathe. By the time they got back to the house, her hair was rumpled and frizzy.

  “Why don’t you cool off?” he said, eyeing her hair. “I’ll be back after lunch to show you what we’re doing with the house.”

  She thought about heading back to her cottage, but since she had time alone, and access to the house, curiosity drew her inside. Wandering through the downstairs rooms, her jaw dropped as she entered sumptuously appointed rooms—the formal Southern parlor she’d entered earlier with its warm yellow walls and pale green upholstered sofas; a library with teak shelving to the ceiling, a heavy desk, and a thick Persian carpet on the floor; a formal dining room with a table large enough to seat twenty; and a larger living room with antique, Victorian-style raised wallpaper and rich wine-colored fabrics covering ornately carved chaises and love seats. Braiding dripped from the curtains.

  This would be the place Boone entertained his special guests. She wondered if they’d make use of the long braided curtain pulls, and then hurried out of the room at the sensual images that flooded her imagination.

  All the downstairs floors were deep, honey-colored oak. All the rooms had twelve-foot ceilings with ornate crown moldings and molded adornments surrounding each chandelier. Twin restrooms faced each other in the back landing where the private stairs led to the bedrooms above. A peek inside showed that one was appointed as a ladies’ room, with pink-and-wine wallpaper, a gold-framed mirror, and gold fixtures. The men’s room bore pinstriped wallpaper in navy and wine, and the fixtures were less grand, with a masculine brushed steel.

  The stairs beckoned her. She’d only seen his room, but was curious about the rest. And where was his office? There must a room where his security team monitored the estate. Was it inside the house or somewhere else on the grounds?

  She tilted her head, listening for any sounds of movement above. She’d hate to meet anyone while she snooped.

  * * *

  Serge poked his head around the door, wearing a smug smile. “Boss, you’ll want to see this.”

  The cause could only be Tilly.

  Boone powered down his workstation, set his phone on vibrate, and followed Serge through the connecting door into the security room to the row of monitors.

  Behind him, Serge quietly closed the door, which was hidden behind wood paneling in his office wall. And none too soon.

  In one monitor, he watched as his office door creaked open. A blonde head peered around it.

  “Boone,” he heard her whisper, but she looked anything but disappointed to find his office empty.

  Boone took a seat in front of the monitor, glad of the panoramic camera that sat on his desk in the other room, which had a view toward the door. He watched Tilly walk inside, her gaze scanning the room. She stopped at the bookcase and touched a couple of books, a finger trailing the spines, but then she glanced back at his desk.

  “If she’s a spy, she’s not very good at it,” Serge whispered. “She hasn’t spotted any of the cameras.”

  “That’s because she’s not a spy,” Boone muttered.

  Serge grunted, arms crossing his chest, as he stood beside Boone, who used the roller ball to turn the camera and keep her in the center of the screen.

  Hands clasped behind her back, she moved around the walls, looking at pictures, every once in a while glancing over her shoulder at the desk.

  He could almost see the wheels turning. She was curious. He wondered how long before she gave in to the temptation.

  “She’ll need punishment,” Serge murmured.

  This time Boone grunted. And his cock stirred. Punishment was something he was looking forward to introducing her to. She was lovely, young, wholesome. Just remembering how she’d snuggled into his groin throughout the night was enough to make him ache.

  She finished her circle and walked to the window, standing to the side to lift the blinds and peek outside. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then straightened her shoulders.

  When she circled his desk and sat in his chair, he switched the feed to the camera attached to the bottom of his monitor. Her image appeared, ensconced in the executive chair.

  But she didn’t seem interested with what might be on his computer, not that she’d be able to access a thing. Nor did she seem interested in anything that might be hidden in the drawers of his desk.

  She sat in his chair, placing her hands on the arms, wrapping her fingers around them, then smoothing them up and down the leather. Turning her head, she drew in a breath that lifted her chest.

  “Is she smelling the leather?” Serge whispered.

  No, Boone would have bet anything she was sniffing his cologne. He smiled. “Come with me. Be quiet.”

  He pushed up from his seat and hurried to the door leading to the hallway, then quietly padded to his office door. He turned the handle and pushed the door open an inch. Pitching his voice loudly, he said, “Serge, I think I left the plans on my desk. This will just take a moment.”

  Serge’s eyes wrinkled with laughter, but he cleared his expression.

  Boone pushed open the door, hearing a gasp and a scrape. When he opened the door, there was no sight of Tilly.

  Only one place she could have hidden.

  “They’re on my desk,” he said, again overloud.

  He and Serge entered, their gazes going to the desk with its enclosed well beneath.

  From the front, she was completely hidden.

  He winked at Serge and walked around the desk, standing behind it and shuffling pages. “Ah, here,” he said, picking up a newspaper and sliding it across the surface before taking his seat.

  Being careful to give her time to scramble backward, he spread his thighs and rolled his chair closer, trapping her.

  He could imagine her expression, cheeks reddened with mortification, nibbling her bottom lip as she tried to figure out how to gracefully get out of her predicament. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. When had anyone amused him so much?

  Fierce satisfaction burned through him. She’d provided him the perfect opportunity for him to teach his first lesson in obedience.

  While Serge picked up the paper and began a nonsensical monologue, Boone thrust his hand between his legs, palm up, and waited.

  Her fingers stroked his palm, and he captured her hand. “If you’ll take the plans and speak with Jonesy, I have some business to take care of here.”

  Serge’s grin stretched across his face, and he pointed to the security room door, indicating Boone wasn’t going to have the privacy he wanted, and knowing Boone wasn’t going to give up the game to tell him otherwise.

  Boone gave him a deadly glare, waited for the door to close, and then let go of Tilly’s hand, placing both of his on the surface of his desk before speaking. “Should I even ask?” he said, adding a dangerous edge to his voice.

  “How’d you know I was here?” she hissed.

  “I’m the only one who’ll be asking questions.”

  A dragged-out sigh was followed by a mumbled “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t going to cut it.”

  Fingers played with the crease of his trousers. “Are you gonna fire me?”

  Boone glared into the monitor, know
ing Serge was likely chuckling away. “No, dear, but there ought to be a punishment, don’t you think?”

  She snorted. “What are you gonna do? Spank me?”

  “Funny you should mention that…”

  Her breath caught.

  He waited, wanting to see if she’d begin to backpedal nervously. But she remained silent, likely thinking hard about what he meant.

  Boone schooled his face into a neutral mask and rolled back his chair. “Crawl out of there, sweetheart.”

  On her hands and knees, she came forward, her eyes the first thing he saw because they were wide. And curious.

  He almost relented but was hard as a post and far too eager to test her. He hadn’t left her enough space to straighten, not without touching him.

  Tilly swallowed, placed her hands on his thighs, and slowly rose to stand in front of him, trapped between his spread legs and the desk. Her face was pale except for wild color balled in the centers of her cheeks. Her eyes were round. Her lips parted, the bottom one swollen as though she’d bitten it.

  Boone eased back in his seat, setting his chin in the L formed by his forefinger and thumb, his middle finger riding the seam of his mouth as he studied her.

  He noted the curls framing her face and escaping her messy ponytail, the healthy glow of her tanned shoulders. The lace of her bra didn’t hide the constriction of her nipples, pressed against the turquoise top.

  “Turn around, Tilly,” he said, keeping his voice even.

  Her chest rose around a deep inhalation, but she inched around in the small space.

  “Open your pants and drop them. You may keep your panties on if you wish.”

  Her gasp was light but audible. “What about the door?”

  “No one will interrupt us. I promise,” he said, aiming another glare at the camera beneath his monitor. So Serge would see more than he might wish. This was too important an opportunity to let pass.

  With her breaths shortening, she raised both hands in front of her. Her clothing rustled, and then her capris eased over her lush bottom and pooled at her feet. She’d left the pale lacy band of her panties in place.

  “Bend over my desk.”

  She placed her hands on the mahogany top and leaned over it.

  “Your chest against the wood. Place your hands behind you and clasp them together.”

  She gave a nervous laugh. “This feels awkward, Boone.”

  “Sir. Call me sir.”

  Her bottom tightened. The thin silk hugging her fleshy globes provided next to no protection from his hungry gaze. Already, he noted dampness at the crotch of her panties.

  He’d said she could keep the panties, but he was eager to see how far she’d let him go before her modesty interfered. Serge could see the sleek, pale sides of her hips, but not the interesting bits behind. Knowing his friend watched was no impediment to Boone’s pleasure. In fact, knowing he was watching added to his enjoyment. Serge would quickly come to understand his fascination with this woman.

  With a gentle move, he plucked at the elastic band at the top of her panties and slowly slid them past the crease of her thighs.

  Her pussy was wet and beginning to turn pink. He rested a hand on one round globe. “Have you ever been spanked, Tilly?”

  A noisy exhalation sounded. “Not since I was a child, and then only a scootch on the butt from my mom.”

  “What do you think about receiving a spanking from a man?”

  “I think…it’s humiliatin’,” she said, her voice getting smaller.

  “Is that all?”

  Her pussy tightened. More fluid oozed from inside her. “I think…that since I did something so grievous, that I deserve it…sir.”

  When she added that one little word at the end, Boone was lost. He’d thought her perfection before. She’d just sealed her fate.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tilly thought she might faint. With her chest plastered against the desk and her hands clutched behind her back, she couldn’t draw in a deep breath.

  She was bent over Boone Benoit’s desk with her panties down, and if she was very, very lucky, he was about to give her lesson number one in submission.

  She’d been surprised he hadn’t fired her on the spot for sneaking into this office, but thought, maybe, he’d been looking for just the right reason to begin her training. Or at least, she hoped that was what he was about to do.

  Because if she was right, it meant he might just keep her around a while longer. He couldn’t be very angry with her snooping if his first impulse was to get her naked. Or at least the important parts bared.

  She tried not to think about what he must be seeing. And hoped like hell there weren’t any cameras aimed right at her backside. While she’d been looking around, she’d forgotten about that possibility—that he or one of his men might be monitoring her activity. What must they be thinking?

  But humiliation was the furthest thing from her mind right this minute. She’d suffer for it later, trying to figure out who might have seen, and ducking her head every time she passed one of Boone’s men.

  No, she shoved that thought to the back of her mind, because right now, Boone was touching her bare ass, a finger sliding between her cheeks.

  When the callused pad touched her tiny forbidden hole, she jerked up, her ass cheeks tightening. “You aren’t spankin’ that,” she muttered.

  His chuckle was low and dirty. “A few ground rules, Tilly. You aren’t to speak unless I ask you something or give you leave. Do you understand?”

  She almost blurted a sassy response, but instead bit her lip and nodded.

  “And when we’re like this, me giving you intimate attention—whether we’re clothed or not, alone or not—you will call me sir.”

  Already wet and tense, she swallowed, thinking about the clothed part and about being seen by others when he was instructing her. Lord, why had her thrill-meter just jerked to the red? Was she really that depraved? Excitement caused her heart to thud hard against her chest, but curiosity kept her still.

  His broad palms landed on both cheeks, gripping her fleshy globes and massaging them, moving them in circular motions that parted and closed her bottom. Was he looking there? Could he see how wet her pussy was?

  Tilly waited, expecting the first slap to land, and bracing for it, but his hands dropped away. Then his feet padded on the wood floor, circling the desk, coming around the front. She lifted her head, but in this position could only raise high enough to glimpse his hard belly.

  His hand gripped one shoulder and raised her, just enough so that he could reach beneath her and open the buttons of her blouse, spreading apart the material. Then he unlatched her bra, palming a breast and pinching the tip until it hardened, then doing the same to the other breast before lowering her chest to meet the cool wood.

  She gasped and readjusted her stance, widening it and trying to control the shaking of her legs.

  Her whole body quivered now. Blood pooled in her sex, causing it to throb in time to her galloping heart. Liquid trickled down the inside of one thigh. When he padded back around the desk to stand behind her, she shut her eyes, hoping he’d touch her, and that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself, because she was hot and scared and so aroused she thought she might climb out of her skin.

  * * *

  Again, Boone glanced to the monitor and narrowed his eyes, hoping Serge would avert his gaze and allow him some privacy. He’d changed his mind about wanting him to watch. Knowing his friend like he did, Serge was likely chortling at the current situation.

  Tilly needed this attention. He needed to administer it. The fact they were both intensely aroused proved a delicious complication. He’d love nothing better than to lower his pants and take her right there, but he wouldn’t do that, not with an audience. And she’d find out sooner or later that every room was rigged for surveillance. He didn’t think she was ready for that kind of exposure.

  So he cupped his fingers, mounding them together so that his first clap would b
e thuddy as opposed to sharp, and raised his hand.

  Her breathing had shortened to ragged pants. Her sex gleamed with moisture. Her bottom shivered. He swung his arm and clapped her bottom, not as hard as he wanted, but certainly enough to get her attention.

  Her breath left in a whoosh, and he heard a soft whimper. He hadn’t hurt her, but her tension made her hypersensitive to his touch.

  He clapped the other side of her bottom and watched as she flung back her head, the motion curving her slender back and raising her butt another inch.

  His breath hitched as he enjoyed the sight of her tightening posture. Again, he thought how perfect, how suited she was for training. And how lovely her body was. He stood to the side of her and delivered more claps, to different spots, watching her skin turn pink and her pussy release another gush of fluid while his own body warmed.

  Pausing, he smoothed his hand over her hot skin. “Tilly, can you take more?”

  She panted, swallowed hard, and then glanced slightly to the side. “Sir, I entered your office and sat in your chair.” Her words were spoken in a throaty whisper. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I might have looked inside your drawers.”

  He knew his amusement was stamped on his face, and hoped Serge wasn’t enjoying the moment too much. “A simple yes or no, girl.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, then held her breath.

  He flattened his fingers, raised his hand again, and gave her a sharp slap that caused her ass to quiver.

  Her gust of surprise sent heat straight to his cock, a sensation he didn’t bother fighting to control. He raised his hand again and swatted the other cheek, the backs of her thighs, the tops of her hips.

  Her whimpers stretched to moans. Her thighs shook. His next slap landed the tips of his fingers on her swelling pussy, and she gave a garbled scream.