Boss I Love To Hate

by James, London

  He pulls out, and in one smooth motion, flips me over onto my stomach, pushing my skirt up around my waist. With a deep, passionate grunt, he plunges his staff back into me, barely even missing a beat. I feel his hand in the middle of my back, pressing me down and holding me in place as he thrusts his hips in a hard, steady rhythm.

  There’s just something about the way he picks me up and throws me around, the way he knows the perfect mix of gentle and rough, that turns me on more than I can say. I don’t know what it is. I’m a woman who typically doesn’t like not being in control – even if it’s just over myself. But ceding control to Sawyer and giving my body over to him, letting him use me the way he does, drives me absolutely crazy with desire.

  I listen to our muffled cries, feeling his tight, firm body against mine, and feel myself growing hotter as my pussy grows wetter. Sawyer’s breathing grows labored, and he grunts as he continues driving himself into me.

  I clench my inner muscles around him, gripping his hard staff as tight as I can as I push myself back against him. And as I do, I feel Sawyer stutter. His breath catches in his throat. He pushes me down harder, pinning me so I can’t move and slides himself into me deep and slow. As he does, I feel his shaft throbbing within me, and when he explodes, filling me with a rush of his hot come, it pushes me over the edge.

  I cry out, but before the sound leaves my throat, he claps his hand over my mouth. I scream against his palm and press myself back against him, squeezing his cock as it pulses inside of me. I gasp and shake uncontrollably. I come again. Unbelievably hard. Even better than the first one. I writhe beneath him as my pussy throbs and clenches around him, my orgasm gripping me in an iron fist, screaming and screaming against his hand.

  I can’t move for a long moment. I can barely breathe. All I seem able to do is lay there on his desk, quivering and gasping for breath. Eventually, Sawyer steps back, and his deflated cock slips out of me, his warm come spilling down the insides of my thighs as he does. I stand and turn around, a shaky smile on my face.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into fucking you at the office,” I gasp.

  “You didn’t seem to argue too hard,” he grins.

  I smooth down my dress, knowing I need to get to the bathroom to clean myself up. We both take a couple of minutes to put ourselves back together, and I’m hoping when I walk out of his office, I’m not going to look like I just had sex. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d be doing the walk of shame out of my boss’ office.

  I check my hair in the mirror on the wall to the right of his desk and take a second to redo my ponytail, knowing that’s always a dead giveaway – sex hair. I’m just finishing putting the tie in my hair when Sawyer’s office door opens, and Rider steps in. I’m suddenly acutely aware of the scent of sex saturating the air around us.

  Time freezes as the three of us look at one another. I cut a glance at Sawyer and see him standing there, wearing an inscrutable expression. I know my guilt is written all over my face – I’ve never been able to hide my emotions very well. And it’s a thought confirmed by the awkward smile that creeps across Rider’s face.

  He clears his throat and holds the file in his hand up. “I’ll – uhhh – we can talk about this later,” he stammers. “Also, we’ve got that meeting –”

  “Yeah, right,” Sawyer replies. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  Without another word, he turns and walks out of the office – but not before I hear him snickering to himself. I round on Sawyer; an ‘are you kidding me’ expression on my face.

  “You said the door was locked,” I hiss.

  He gives me a small shrug and a sheepish smile. “Oops?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sawyer

  “So, are we going to talk about it?”

  I look over at Rider and grin. “Nope.”

  “Oh, I think we should talk about it.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” I respond.

  We’re in the sitting area in my office after getting back from meeting with a couple of potential clients. It’s just the routine preliminary stuff that bores me to death. But we have to do our due diligence, put in the facetime with clients, and press the flesh. It’s tedious as hell – but a necessary part of the job.

  Rider has been mum about what he walked in on the whole day – which has been a pleasant surprise. At least until now.

  “Oh, there’s lots to talk about,” he crows.

  “There really isn’t,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I hate to break it to you.”

  “Dude, in your office?” He looks down at the couch dramatically. “You two haven’t done it here, on this couch, have you? I’m not sitting in –”

  “Dude, shut the hell up,” I laugh.

  “You could have at least locked the door,” he prattles on. “I mean, Berlin must have been absolutely mortified.”

  “You say one word to her about any of this, and I swear to God I’ll gut you like a fish.”

  “Me?”

  “You,” I grin. “She told me you seem to enjoy screwing with her.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t enjoy screwing with her more than anybody else. I’m all about equality here.”

  “Yeah well, you might want to ease up a bit. She’s got a worse temper than I do,” I tell him. “And she’s more prone to violence than me.”

  “I can believe that actually,” he notes. “What I didn’t expect was for her to be as big of a sexual deviant as you.”

  I punch him in the arm but can’t stop the laughter. “You’re such a prick,” I reply. “But again, you are not –”

  “I know, I know. I’m not to breathe a word about this to Berlin,” he waves me off. “Don’t worry; you’re my designated punching bag.”

  “Don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re just going to let this go?”

  “Not a chance in hell,” he chuckles. “What I want to know is, did your deviancy rub off on her? Or was it a pre-existing condition that just needed to be unleashed?”

  I look over at him and arch an eyebrow. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

  He leans back, sinking into the couch, and screws up his face as if he’s lost in thought. Finally, he turns back to me, the grin still on his face, but he says nothing.

  “What? No witty retort?” I ask.

  “Keeping my powder dry,” he informs me. “I’ll be dining out on this for months.”

  “Knowing you, probably years.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah probably.”

  My office door opens, and when I turn, I see Berlin standing in the doorway. She gives me a weak smile, but she lowers her eyes when she sees Rider. For his part, he drops the smile and puts on a professional face. Clearing his throat and gets to his feet and looks back down at me.

  “I’ll uhhh – I’ll let you two speak,” he says. “And I’ll draw up the contracts and send them over later this afternoon or maybe tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He gives Berlin a polite smile and heads out of the office, but not before he gets in one final zinger.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two,” he calls over his shoulder as the door clicks closed.

  I sigh and shake my head. “He just can’t help himself.”

  “No, he can’t.”

  “Come in, sit down.”

  Berlin remains where she’s standing with her hands on her hips. “We’re not going for round two here, Sawyer.”

  “I swear it’s not like that,” I give her a grin. “At least, not this time.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you,” I reply in all seriousness. “I wanted to talk to you this morning but – well – we got a bit distracted.”

  She clears her throat, and I see her cheeks flush, but she smiles and takes a seat on the couch across from me. She smooths her dress down, folds her hands in her lap, and settles in. I hold up a finger, getting out of the chair to walk back to my desk. I dig throu
gh some things, pick up a file folder, and carry it back to my chair.

  “What’s that?” she asks.

  I set the folder down on the table between us and sit back. Berlin looks at it hesitantly for a moment before she reaches out and picks it up, setting it in her lap and opening it up. She flips through the brochures and information I’ve compiled for her for a few minutes and then looks up at me questioningly.

  “What is this, Sawyer?”

  “It’s a way for you to reclaim your life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I sit forward in my seat and peer at her intently. “It’s an intake packet for the Rose Hills Assisted Living facility,” I tell her. “It’s the top of the line facility that specializes in Alzheimer’s patients.”

  She looks at me, completely dumbfounded for a long moment as if she’s not fully comprehending what I’m saying.

  “I know you don’t want to feel like you’re warehousing your father somewhere,” I begin. “Rose Hills is a fantastic facility with qualified doctors who can care for him around the clock. They can attend to his every need and take care of him in ways that neither you nor your cousin are trained to.”

  She sits back. I can’t tell what it is she’s thinking or feeling in that moment. Truthfully, she looks kind of pissed off. I start to think maybe I’ve overstepped. Again. Not that the fear of overstepping has ever deterred me before, but when it comes to Berlin, I realize I’ve been overthinking everything.

  “I know you don’t want to feel like you’ve just dumped your father somewhere to run out the clock. But think about it, Berlin,” I urge her. “You – and your cousin, for that matter – can have some part of your lives back and have the peace of mind knowing your father is being cared for by trained professionals twenty-four hours a day. It seems like a win-win to me.”

  Her eyes shimmer with tears she’s fighting to hold back. I know what a monumental decision this would be for her, and I can only imagine how difficult it is to pull the trigger. But I also know how self-serving this probably sounds to her. And if I’m being honest, I can’t say it’s not entirely self-serving on my part.

  I would love for Berlin to reclaim her life. I would like to enjoy a night out with her and not have her attention divided between her father and me. It would be nice to not have her rushing off in the middle of a date because she has to take care of her father when her cousin has to leave. I want Berlin to enjoy her life. And I want her to enjoy her life with me. I want to build something real, something tangible with her, but it’s difficult to do when we don’t get to spend as much time together as I’d like.

  “I don’t know, Sawyer.”

  “I know this probably makes me sound like a selfish prick. And if that’s the case, so be it,” I tell her. “But I honestly think this is the best thing for both you and your father. And I have to believe your dad would want you to be happy and to have a life.”

  She chews on her bottom lip. I can see the indecision etched into her every feature. I can tell she’s torn between the responsibility she feels for her father and her desire to have a life of her own.

  “I – I don’t think you’re being selfish,” she admits. “I think this sounds amazing, and I don’t disagree about the benefits for my dad. I just don’t think this is feasible. There’s no way I can afford this place.”

  “That’s something you don’t need to worry about,” I tell her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what I said,” I respond. “You don’t need to worry about the cost. It’ll be taken care of.”

  She shakes her head. “I – I can’t let you do that,” she tells me. “That’s too much.”

  “Like I said, that’s not for you to worry about,” I press. “All you have to do is agree, and it’ll all be taken care of.”

  “Sawyer, you can’t just –“

  “Believe me, Berlin, this is not a case of me putting on that cape again,” I tell her. “This is part of the employee benefits package that I offer to every Compass employee. We want you to be able to take care of your family – no matter what needs they may have.”

  She doesn’t say anything to that. Just frowns and looks down. I know this is a lot to take in.

  “Ultimately, this is your call, Berlin. The offer is there,” I tell her. “What you need to decide is whether you want to reclaim your life or not – knowing of course, that your dad will be getting top of the line care if you do.”

  She wipes away the tears that are slipping from her eyes. She looks like she’s about to speak, but then her eyes drift away, and she says nothing.

  “There’s nothing wrong with choosing yourself for once, Berlin,” I urge her. “There is no shame in choosing to have a life and be happy.”

  “Can I think about it?” she finally asks. “It’s a big decision to make, and I want to give it some thought.”

  “Of course. It’s definitely a big decision, and you don’t have to make it today,” I tell her. “Take your time.”

  She finally gives me a genuine smile – one filled with warmth – and I feel confident that maybe for the first time in her life, she’ll choose herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Berlin

  “Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?” he asks.

  I stare at him blankly, not believing he’d even have the nerve to ask me that question. But then, given that he’s the one leading the charge, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Yeah, it really is,” I answer.

  It’s been about two weeks since I started working for Sawyer, and although it started off well enough, I’m now about to the point that I want to cut him. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew working for the man I’m seeing was a bad idea. One I shouldn’t have jumped into. But I needed the job and all the perks that came with it, and so I convinced myself it would be okay, and I jumped – and I now feel the need to slap myself for doing so.

  It’s not necessarily the fact that I haven’t spent my days doing the legal work I’ve been educated and trained to do. Not completely, anyway. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not a bit irked with the fact that I’ve spent my days picking up his dry cleaning, organizing files, screening correspondence, or whatever ridiculous task he’s set me to. Still, I’m not above menial work. I’ve never been one who thought herself above any type of work. I believe in earning my keep and have never been afraid to get my hands dirty. It’s how I was raised.

  No, what’s really rankling me is the almost frat house atmosphere in this office. At first, it was charming. Fun. And I thought an outlier since they seemed to be celebrating closing a few deals as well as some birthdays. But over the past couple of weeks, it seems like nobody takes anything seriously around here.

  To be perfectly honest, now that I’m in the belly of the beast and see exactly how the sausage is made here, I find myself shocked by something new every single day. There is so much horseplay and goofing off here that I can’t believe this is a functioning multi-billion-dollar company. It seems like it’s being run by people with the collective maturity level of a bunch of high schoolers.

  Oh, the image presented to the public is completely cool and professional. Nobody who walked in here off the street would ever guess at the foolishness I’ve seen. But I watch as people pull pranks on one another left and right – just yesterday somebody had shrink-wrapped somebody else’s entire workstation. And Sawyer encourages this kind of behavior.

  But I can ignore all of that – for the most part. What’s really gotten to me is that Sawyer seems to take a particular delight in needling and picking at me. He teases me relentlessly and seems to enjoy doing everything he can to get under my skin – and after a few weeks of that, I’ve had enough.

  “What’s so bad about working here?” he presses.

  “Other than you acting like a teenage boy with a crush?” I growl. “I swear to God, I’m half-convinced you’re going to start pulling my hair and throwing things at me to get my attention.�
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  “I have not,” he laughs. “But if you’d like me to pull your hair, we can arrange that.”

  “Sawyer, you’ve been acting like a child.”

  He really has. He’ll ask for me to come to his office at random times just to tell me he wanted to see me. He makes obscene gestures to me when nobody’s looking. I’ve already had to warn him multiple times to cool it with the flirting in the office. That was a one-time deal, and the last thing he – or I – need is a sexual harassment suit. I don’t know if I’d ever actually sue him, but I like to keep it in my back pocket. Keeps him on his toes.

  But even still, it’s like every day I have to pick up after children.

  “Okay fine, maybe I’ve been having a little fun at your expense,” he grins. “My apologies. I like to keep things light around here, and I don’t want people taking themselves or the job too seriously.”

  “Is that why there’s an empty office filled with pinatas?”

  Sawyer laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “Leftovers from a birthday party,” he says. “I meant to have the janitors clean that out.”

  I shake my head. “I just don’t get it. You present such a buttoned-up, serious image to the world,” I say. “Everything is so solemn and professional.”

  “That’s the image my father crafted. Under him, this place ran like a military encampment,” he explains. “He made sure the trains all ran on time, the morale of the employees be damned.”

  “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Very perceptive of you. I agree with my father that that’s the image that needs to be projected to the world. It makes clients feel more at ease to know their projects are being handled seriously and by professionals,” he tells me. “But behind closed doors, I have a different philosophy.”