Spanking the Boss (An Office Kink Novella Book 1)

by Hunter Frost

  I walked across the street to the corner cafe. I saw through the window that Steph had snagged a table inside. Her glare was as cold as the chilly morning weather.

  “Did you order?” I asked, pulling off my knit cap. I didn’t see a cup or food in front of her.

  She shook her head.

  I guess that meant it was my treat. “The usual?”

  She nodded.

  I waited in line as two other people ordered first. When I got to the front, Ben, the owner, leaned in. “What did you do?” he whispered.

  “Ditched her at a party last night.”

  Ben grimaced. “Ouch. Not cool, Charlie.”

  I sighed. “I know. It was a strange . . . turn of events. Can you put an extra shot in both of our lattes, please? And add a touch of hazelnut syrup for Steph. I gotta start with the kissing up ASAP.”

  He nodded. “And the usual banana-nut muffin and yogurt with granola?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  “Good luck.” His grim face told me I’d need it.

  I took a deep breath before turning to take a seat with Steph. Her long blond hair was tied back in a loose bun, her cheetah leotard replaced by a pencil skirt and blouse. The darkness under her eyes matched the overcast sky. Her arms were crossed.

  “I’m sorry.” I figured I’d open with it. Because I really was. I didn’t mean to make her worry.

  She didn’t move for a few seconds, then leaned forward. “What happened?”

  Steph and I had only been friends for a short time, but she’d always been kind to me. One of the VPs had asked her to reach out before I even started the job at NetSmash, to help me move to my new apartment and get situated. She knew where I was coming from and never seemed to have a problem with it. I knew I should probably keep what happened last night to myself, but I owed Steph the truth, a real explanation so she wouldn’t hate me. I felt horrible for letting her down.

  “Before you say anything, please tell me this has nothing to do with . . . your prior life.” She swallowed and it was then that a waitress brought over our coffees and breakfast.

  I waited until she left to speak. “I swear to you, it doesn’t.”

  “Thank god.” She picked up her latte and blew on it before taking a sip. “Hazelnut. Nice touch. Now get to it.”

  I cupped my mug with my hands, warming them. “I ran into the CEO last night.”

  “Trent Davis? You mean in the bathroom?” She unwrapped her muffin and broke off a piece.

  I shushed her. Not everyone in the cafe needed to know.

  “And?” She lowered her voice. “Did you get in trouble?”

  I thought about that for a minute. “Depends on what you mean by trouble.”

  She raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “He thought I was the janitor.”

  “Because of your costume?” She pressed her lips together. But soon she chuckled and then couldn’t contain herself and covered her mouth as she laughed. I let her have her moment. I was just glad she wasn’t angry anymore.

  “So what? He ask you to clean his office or something?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Okay then?” She still chuckled as she buttered the piece of muffin and popped it in her mouth.

  “He did ask me to clean up his spilled coffee.”

  “Oh my god!” She squealed. “You’re kidding.”

  I shook my head. “Afraid not.”

  “But you told him who you were, right?”

  I shook my head again and put a spoonful of yogurt in my mouth.

  “You cleaned up the spill?”

  I glared. “What was I supposed to do? Tell him I was just hanging out in the executive bathroom for the hell of it? He’d think I was some sort of freak. You know my track record. I wanted to keep my job.”

  “The custodial position?” She smirked.

  “Very funny.”

  “Charlie . . .” She reached out and put a hand on my wrist, her face now serious. “Trent wouldn’t think that about you.”

  “You don’t know that. I’ve heard how much of a stickler he is when it comes to following the rules. I wasn’t going to take any chances.” Of course, now that I knew him . . . better, I doubted he would’ve been upset enough over bathroom trespassing to do anything drastic. But now I had bigger problems.

  Steph ate more of her muffin. “So, you went back to his office and cleaned up the spill? And then left? That couldn’t have taken you all night.”

  “Um . . .” I might’ve been able to get away with telling her I left after I’d finished and turned my phone off. But I’d already lied to Trent; I didn’t want to lie to my only friend as well. “We sorta hit it off. And well, one thing led to another . . .”

  Suddenly Steph was choking on her coffee. Thankfully, she didn’t spit it out all over the table or me. Her eyes watered and it took a while for her to stop coughing.

  “Sorry.” I handed her a napkin.

  She wiped her mouth. “You’re telling me you had sex with the CEO?”

  I looked around, just to be sure no one we worked with or Trent himself were here. “A couple times, actually.”

  “Holy mother of God,” she said, a hand on her heart. “You went home with him?”

  “No.”

  “Then where did you—?”

  “His desk and his couch.” I took another sip of my coffee. “You should see his office, Steph. It’s really nice.”

  Her eyes were like saucers. She blinked. Then she whacked me on the shoulder.

  “Ow! What the—?”

  “And you gave me that sob story about being worried you’d lose your job over hanging out in the executive bathroom? That’s low.”

  “I was worried about that! It’s just not all I’m worried about.”

  Steph shook her head. “I’m not following.”

  “He still thinks I’m the janitor. And I told him I’d call him tonight.”

  “Charlie!” She leaned in. “You’re playing with fire here.”

  “Parker said Trent’s never on the lower floors. He comes in early and works late. I only need to lie low until he forgets about me. The man is a CEO; it shouldn’t be long before I’m just another guy.”

  “I take it you’re not calling him then?”

  “What for? Like this could ever be more than a one-time thing. He’s the boss, Steph!”

  “And when he doesn’t hear from you, he’s going to be pissed. Why wouldn’t he ask around about you? Or tell someone else in the company what happened? You’d be found out in a second.”

  I sighed, finishing up my yogurt. “He won’t tell anyone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We did some pretty kinky stuff. I get the feeling he wouldn’t want that to get out.”

  “What kind of stuff? Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’d like to continue to be able to look you in the eye.” Steph closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “It was stupid. I know.” I looked out the window and watched as people skittered by in rain boots, awaiting the downpour. “I couldn’t help it. The man is hot, funny, kind . . . and fucking irresistible. I haven’t been with anyone that made me feel the way he did. I’m not used to wanting to sleep over.”

  “Still, you’re only making it worse for yourself. After tonight, if he finds out who you are, he really will fire you. For lying, embarrassing him, and leading him on.”

  She had a point. And it only reinforced why I had to make sure he never found out who I was. And why I couldn’t call him.

  Steph fished her phone out of her purse. “We better get going. We’ll talk more about this later, Loverboy.”

  I gave her a sideways glance. “Loverboy?”

  “I’m allowed to make fun of you for what you put me through last night.”

  I sighed as we both got up. “Fair enough.”

  Chapter Eight

  Trent

  I heard someone whistlin
g as I organized my portfolio, ready to head over to the boardroom for my 10:00 a.m. meeting. I stopped in my tracks when I realized the sounds were coming from me.

  I didn’t whistle.

  It had been the most unusual morning. Strangely uneventful after Chaz had left. I floated from one room to another, showering, getting dressed in the spare suit I kept here for late nights and possible wardrobe catastrophes. I never thought I’d need it for something like this—hot sex with no time to go home and change.

  I reviewed the reports, haphazardly at best. My mind kept drifting off to other things. Chaz. His body. His hands. His mouth. Being bent over my desk as he spanked me. I checked the desk once more. No signs of anything we had done. Except maybe a nick or two from my nails as I grasped the edge of the wood. Why was I disappointed he’d been so thorough in cleaning up?

  I wondered how often he’d done this sort of thing . . . with former employers, or anyone. I wished I’d asked him more questions about himself. I guess the way his eyes looked right through me, into me and my soul, I felt like he already knew me and I him. Was it crazy that it seemed like we had connected? Somehow bonded over spanking and kinky, passionate sex? I laughed at myself, already aroused with the constant thought of him.

  I stopped in the bathroom, where our fateful meeting had occurred, and splashed cold water on my face. As I dried off, I steeled myself not to think of Chaz again for the rest of the day. Or at least until this meeting had ended. Because who was I kidding? The man obliterated the self-control I prided myself on.

  I walked down the hall to the boardroom. Everyone was there already. I looked down at my phone and frowned. 10:03? How did that—?

  “Three minutes late,” Alejandro said when I entered, flashing his pearly whites. “I think this might be a first!” He laughed, and the others chuckled.

  “My apologies, Alejandro. Time must have slipped by somehow when I was finishing up the reports.”

  He raised his dark brows. Alejandro Rios always gave me a hard time about my perfect punctuality. And just about everything else. He was only a year older than I, and I believed sore over having to work under a CEO who was externally sourced when he’d been at NetSmash from the beginning.

  “Grow up, Dylan,” Naomi said from across the table, using Alejandro’s nickname. Her long brown hair was braided and set in a crown on top of her head. Alejandro could’ve been Luke Perry’s doppelganger from his days on 90210, if Luke Perry was Spanish.

  Morgan Brant sat next to Alejandro silently, with that ever-present haughtiness on his face, directed at no one and yet everyone. He was the oldest at the table, probably in his mid-forties, and easily the most brilliant of us all. Despite his polite British accent, he was the least social person on my team.

  Not that I was any better. Still, I made a point to try to be friendly. I knew people considered me uptight, and as Chaz pointed out, obsessed with control. I guess I was. I had a reputation to instill with my colleagues and employees. Lead by example. They didn’t have to be as severe as me, but they did have to trust that the CEO could handle anything thrown at him. And that came with someone consistent and by the book.

  I sat down at the head of the table.

  “Something’s different about you,” Morgan said.

  I opened my portfolio and looked at him pointedly. “Oh?”

  “You seem more relaxed. Your tie isn’t as tightly knotted, and your brow is less worrisome.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. Morgan hadn’t said more than ten words to me about anything unrelated to NetSmash or business in general since the day we met. I self-consciously adjusted my tie.

  But now Naomi and Alejandro were studying me.

  “He has a point, boss,” Naomi said. “You’re glowing. Are you pregnant?” She chuckled.

  “I bet I know why he’s glowing,” Alejandro said and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Dylan,” Morgan warned, his voice stern. “Please keep it professional.”

  “¡Dios! Lighten up. You’re the one who brought it up.”

  “Did you go to the Halloween party last night, Trent?” Naomi asked, ignoring them.

  I shook my head. “No, but I couldn’t help but hear it. I was here late.”

  “You should have come down! Everyone had a great time. The DJs were spectacular.” Naomi said.

  Alejandro rolled his eyes. “Mediocre, at best. You were drunk.”

  “Next time, I’ll stop in.” Despite parties not being my thing, as the CEO, I should probably make an effort.

  “Don’t bother,” Morgan chimed in. “Those parties are overrated. Everyone’s pissed and acting like bleeding idiots.”

  “How would you know?” Alejandro asked. “Someone as miserable as yourself wouldn’t dream of doing anything that might actually be fun.”

  “I’m smart enough to know what goes on at those parties without making an appearance. It’s not complicated.” Morgan leaned back in his chair. He crossed a leg and a bit of neon orange sock peeked out.

  “Can we get started with the agenda, please?” I didn’t want this to devolve into something hostile.

  We chatted about last week and any issues that arose, then attempted to load some project notes onto our screen. But something wasn’t connecting properly with our laptops.

  “De nada. I’ll have Ellison come over,” Alejandro said, tapping away on his phone.

  “He hates when you do that,” Naomi said.

  “Next time, please contact his team, Alejandro,” I added. “The Director of IT does not need to be assisting us with minor connection issues.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest after he put his phone down. “Yes, sir.”

  We continued our discussions until Ellison arrived, pushing up his black thick-rimmed glasses.

  “Good morning, El.” Alejandro waved from his seat, resting an ankle on the opposite knee.

  “Morning, Al,” Ellison replied and smirked. “Connection issues again?”

  “Sorry for the interruption,” I apologized.

  Ellison walked over to the big screen monitor and felt around the edges, fumbling with controls. “I’m happy to help.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on the conference table before reaching around the back and underneath, checking wires and sockets.

  I offered my laptop for him to run some tests with it.

  After a few moments, the agenda popped up on the screen. “Bingo.” Ellison smiled and grabbed his jacket, draping it over his arm.

  Naomi and Alejandro cheered while Morgan fiddled with his tablet.

  “Thank you, Ellison. Again, sorry to bother you.” I said.

  “No bother at all,” he replied, then gave a quick glance to Alejandro before taking his leave.

  We got back to business discussing the infamous reports, reviewing pertinent items I had questions on and then moved forward.

  “I have a meeting at eleven I can’t be late for,” Morgan spoke up, packing his things.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “We’re done here.”

  “Before you go, Morgan,” Naomi interrupted, “I wanted to let you know who we chose for the CyGen project.”

  Morgan stood and looked at her impatiently. “Please don’t say—”

  “Parker Greenhill as our lead.”

  “Dammit. Why?”

  “He’s our best analyst, and you know that.” Alejandro threw out.

  “But he’s a bloody wanker.” Morgan shook his head.

  “You don’t have to like him, just oversee the project.”

  “Fine,” Morgan grumbled. “Who else?”

  “Stephanie Vincent, Miranda Frank, Greg Hunt, Adam Iverson . . .” She paused, searching her laptop screen. “Oh, and our newest analyst, Charlie Reynolds.”

  Morgan exhaled. “Where’s he from?”

  “Interned at SixSense with excellent recommendations. He’s a little older than our typical junior analyst, but I want to get him some experience and see what he can do.”

 
“Maturity is a good thing. I hope some of it rubs off on Parker.” He grabbed his briefcase and waved. “See you.”

  I waved back, as did the others.

  “Is this Parker Greenhill a problem?” I knew my colleagues could handle their own, but if I could help, I would.

  Alejandro chimed in. “Only if he and Morgan were locked in a small room together.”

  “They’re exactly alike is the problem,” Naomi added. “Parker’s still young. He’s a hotshot with an ego, just like Morgan used to be.”

  I nodded my comprehension.

  “See ya later, boss,” Naomi said, grabbing her purse.

  “Have a good day,” I said, as Alejandro came up behind her and followed her out with a wave.

  I turned back to the big screen. Numbers and graphs stared back at me, but all I could think about was Chaz. I checked the time. Right, eleven. That’s it? I looked at my phone. I didn’t expect him to call or text now, but who knew? It was possible. I shook my head at myself for the umpteenth time today.

  I didn’t know how I was going to make it until tonight.

  My last meeting had gone long and I sprinted to my car. I patted my chest to make sure my phone was secure within the inner pocket of my jacket before I pulled away. I’d wanted to be home by six. It was already seven.

  When I arrived at my condo, I dumped my portfolio and keys onto the kitchen counter in a dash down the hallway, shrugging out of my coat and loosening my tie.

  I grabbed my phone and looked at the screen, hoping I might’ve missed an alert from Chaz. I wasn’t sure how I would have with my hypersensitivity to any vibration or ding my phone made today.

  But still nothing.

  After I ripped off my suit and threw on a pair of flannel pants and a T-shirt, I reheated some leftover Chinese and poured a glass of Chardonnay. I was too anxious to eat, really, but I felt I should have something to sustain me if Chaz and I talked all night. It had happened before.