Bossy Christmas Party 2: A steamy CEO older man romance

by Mia Madison

  I don’t know how he manages to circumvent my resistance to his charm and get under my skin. Another tequila shot would be good right now, just to stop my hands shivering. My legs are like two sticks of jellopop. He must be some sort of sociopath to do this to me. Don’t they say all successful business men are serial killers that chose another path? I sure feel like I barely just escaped with my life.

  I splash water on my face, smooth down my skirt and try to stop thinking about doing what the rest of humanity do in the corporate bathroom on a daily basis, according to my filthy roomie.

  I’m halfway back to safety when I see him standing in the wide hallway facing Tania, the Elite Bitch party planner. They’re arguing about more than the DJ that’s for sure. Milo looks up and sees me. His face visibly relaxes, the angry orders he was giving Tania are erased from his demonically handsome features.

  Do not let yourself be suckered in. He’ll vacuum you up and spit you out the other end.

  I smooth down my skirt again and keep walking. I can’t turn back and there’s no corner to turn before I reach them. Tania notices she’s lost Milo’s attention and follows his gaze so they’re both watching me. Her stare is a lot more hostile than his. So I avoid it, my only option for an eye rest is my boss, seeing as I flatly refuse to look at the floor like a chattel.

  I head towards them with as confident a stride as I can muster. I can’t seem to stop from smoothing down my skirt over my hips and thighs, which only attracts Milo’s stare. And then Tania notices where he’s looking and if looks could kill, I’d be splayed across the parking lot right now. I wonder what they were fighting about. And why she’s holding me responsible for whatever it was.

  “There you are Ms Johanssen,” Milo says when I come within arm’s reach.

  And by arm’s reach I mean just that, because he grabs me by the arm and leads me down the corridor, leaving Tania standing there fuming.

  “You disappeared when things were about to get interesting.”

  “What were you arguing about?” I blurt out even though it’s none of my business. I’m trying to slow him up from dragging me along the passage.

  “She refused to come get you out of the washroom,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “How did you know I was in the washroom?” I snarl, trying to tear my arm out of his hold.

  He pulls me back toward him harder and I topple against him. I reach out a hand to stop myself stumbling on my heels and make contact with his chest. Oh my god, the first time I’ve ever laid on my boss and his body is unbelievable, bristling with power in the hard muscle. Just imagine what it must be like under the jacket and shirt, the hot taut skin, flexing and -

  Jesus. Stop imagining him naked. He clearly has a camera in the bathroom, the vile pig. If I wasn’t so desperate to make a mark in this job before moving on, I’d report his ass.

  “Because I looked everywhere else for you,” he says quietly as he pulls me into his office and kicks the door shut behind us.

  “Oh,” I whimper. His hand is burning through my sleeve, setting my skin aflame. I’ve only trotted a few hundred feet alongside him but I’m heaving for breath as though I just ran the marathon. “Why?”

  He gives me another tiny yank of my arm and I collapse against his broad chest. My palms come up too late too stop myself. My breasts go crashing into his chest wall and my hands manage to grab his biceps as he mashes his lips into mine. His tongue jabs inside my mouth and circles smoothly around, entwining and tugging, claiming every last corner.

  He tastes so good, I can’t help but arch my back and press into his amazing body, the ridges digging into my flesh. His hands slide from their grip on my hips, up over my ribcage to the sides of my breasts.

  I moan slightly into his mouth, arching harder desperate for him to fill his grasp with my full mound then squeeze and mound until I gasp.

  8

  Milo

  Aura’s body in my hands is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. She’s just a woman, but she’s one like no other. Her curves are firm but so soft I can’t stop myself from mangling and squeezing her with an ardor that overwhelms us both.

  Each time I tear my mouth off hers to travel down her neck, her chest, her awesome tits, I feel her heaving for breath beneath my lips and palms.

  “The party,” she whimpers, her fingers clawing through my hair to tug my head closer to her chest.

  Fuck the party. This is all I need for entertainment. Aura is the most stimulating woman I’ve ever laid my hands on and I’m not about to let her escape.

  “Oh god,” she moans as I bite her hard nipples through her shirt and she writhes in what I know to be ecstasy mixed with the need to get off.

  For all her uptight attitudes she is a wild thing once she lets loose. I can’t wait to get her naked and under me, bucking and thrashing as I torment her into the most screaming climax she’s ever had.

  “Please,” she whimpers again.

  It almost sounds as though she’s begging me to stop, if it weren’t for how she pulls my mouth harder onto her flesh, encouraging me to devour her. I tear the top button of her shirt open with my teeth. She gasps as I cup her full round tit in my hard hand and plunge my thumb under the solid molded push-up to strum across her erect nipple.

  “Is that good, you like that?” I growl into the side of her neck.

  “We have to stop,” she mewls.

  Her words fire me up and I spin her around so she faces the desk I backed her up against. I have her mask, the one she left in the cinema, in my pants pocket. I pull it out and reach around her to settle it on the bridge of her nose, making sure her eyes are completely covered.

  “You want me to stop,” I growl out low.

  She waits, trembling and clearly battling with herself, then lets out a tiny mewl of ‘no’.

  I tie off the silk strings into a tight knot.

  “Bend over,” I order her and she complies immediately.

  If she had any idea of refusing my command, she knows better than to do so by the tone in my voice. I can tell by the way she’s gasping for air with short breaths that she’s very turned on.

  “Are you wet for me, Aura?” I lean over, lining my chest with her spine so that her breath hitches, a little shocked but mostly lust-filled. “Answer me,” I bark roughly.

  “Yes,” she mewls in a tiny voice. All her strident feminism forgotten as I start tugging her skirt up her legs.

  “Yes what?” I demand.

  “Sir,” she murmurs. “Yes, sir.”

  “Say it,” I order. “Say you’re wet for me.”

  A small noise of resistance escapes her lips. But I can’t be sure that’s against my demand that she admit to me how much she wants me, or the fact that her skirt has reached the top of her thighs and is skimming her tantalizing crevice.

  “Say it,” I repeat, more brusquely than before.

  She shakes her head no, none too vigorously though, like she’s trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t be doing this. That I’m her boss and she’s my employee and this is a taboo act we’re indulging in on a Friday afternoon before Christmas. Maybe we shouldn’t but I don’t care. The chemistry between us has reached a point neither of us can tolerate any longer.

  She shakes her head and I know she’s biting on her lip, forcing herself not to acknowledge it.

  In one fierce tug, I yank her tight skirt up over the curve of her ass and the most perfect moon of flesh is exposed. Her panties are very high cut and slice a delectable line across her cheeks. The way they cover her slit is enough to send me semi-deranged with want. I could rip them down her thighs and discover for myself just how dripping she is but first she must learn that disobeying her boss is not permitted.

  The first slap is the hardest. The shock to her flesh is avid in the way her flesh blooms bright pink. Watching that color flush her pale skin makes my wood pummel at my pants, desperate for release.

  She sprawls forward on the desk and splays her hands across the wood,
sending papers and other shit flying to the floor. She gasps and a muffled apology emerges from between lips that sound pursed tight. I bring my hand down on her other cheek with a resounding slap. Aura pushes off on her palms, trying to stand upright but I wrap her long hair around my fist and pull it until her head twists to the side.

  I want to watch her emotions as I spank her. I need to know exactly how much she’s loving this domination by her boss. I rain down a few more claps on each cheek, my eyes mesmerized by the flesh as it reverberates with each slap then turns a brighter pink. I was correct in my certainty she was biting her lip, her eyes are also squeezed firmly closed. But between each spank, her tongue emerges from between her lips and licks across the lower one with a lascivious stroke, like a pussy with the finest cream.

  I settle my palm at the apex between her thighs. That delicious hollow that leads to her sacred space, the place I’d like to rest my entire face and plunge my tongue until her lips are unable to purse even if she wanted to, they’ll be stretched wide panting for air and screaming my name.

  “Oh my god,” she moans as my hand flexes slightly as though weighing up. She knows I’m considering spanking across her rear spread. She also knows that I’m taking my time while I relish the completely soaked through material of her panties.

  I intend to take every sweet fucking second of time as I watch her. She looks amazing bent over my desk with her skirt yanked up over her ass, her bright red cheeks tipped up to the ceiling, waiting eagerly for my decision. The only thing that would make this even more perfect is if I’d stripped her gorgeous tits out of their cups so that every spank would set them jiggling over the desk.

  Next time.

  Because there will be a next time. I’m nowhere near done with Aura Johanssen.

  “It’s time,” an overly perky voice behind me dislodges me from my fascination with Aura’s perfect body. Then, “Oh,” a horrified squeak follows.

  Without releasing either hand from Aura’s body, I swivel my head and I’m sure I must look like the demon from The Exorcist. I glare boiling daggers at the kid in the stupid pixie outfit charged with rounding up the staff to ensure everyone’s at the party. My idea - in case Aura got any ideas about skipping out.

  Her horrified gaze goes from my demonic stare to Aura, drawn to the woman bent over the desk half naked for a spanking from the boss. I guess I should be thankful that it wasn’t one of the guys who work with Aura that walked in on us. And the way I have her head twisted, Pixie can’t see Aura’s face.

  “Get out,” I yell.

  “Yes, Sir,” she squeaks. “Sorry, sir.”

  She backs up and pulls the door shut. At that moment Aura seems to come out of her dreamy state and wriggles out from under my distracted hold on her. She comes up to standing and shoves her skirt down her legs. Then she reaches up to push the mask up her forehead.

  “Leave it,” I order her.

  She does exactly as I say, for now at least, but there’s no way I can stop her as she heads straight for the door the Pixie just closed.

  9

  Aura

  Please tell me that did not just happen. I did not allow my boss to bend me over his desk and spank my bare ass. It couldn’t possibly have happened and yet it did and I can’t believe it. Because I’m still shaking and walking down the hallway like I’m stumbling out of the vampire’s lair.

  My knees are threatening to buckle out under me, my heart is still racing and my skin is tingling hotly all over. But nowhere is hotter than my ass cheeks. They sting with every step I take as the lining of my skirt scratches over my skin.

  I am humiliated at how much I loved his hand on my butt. How being exposed and laid out on his desk like a buffet made me soak my underwear. I’m making a half-blind, lust-blind dash to the cloakroom where I left my hanging bag. Along with my dress for the party, I brought a change of underwear and fortunately its a no VPL thong so my cheeks will get a rest from the chafing. Every step I take drives me more crazy with need. And I am shocked with myself for wanting my boss like this.

  I yank my phone out and text Tai.

  Where are you?

  The response pops right back.

  On my way

  Make it quick. I reply.

  WhatsUpp?

  I can’t tell him via text, it’s too damn embarrassing.

  Just get here soon

  He sends a thumbs up emoticon and I crash into the washroom to change out of my sullied outfit. I doubt I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror while wearing it ever again. I dash over to the lit reflection over the basins and note how flushed my face is, almost glowing. I look like someone who needs to get off. No, I’m probably imagining that. There’s no way of telling that just by looking. Is there?

  I lean in to examine myself closer. Something is definitely different. My eyes are sparkly, my skin all pink and somehow luminous. As soon as Tai arrives, we’re out of here. We can go to a bar for a stiff cocktail or twenty. And he can tell me what the hell my next move is because I’m stumped. Do I resign? Quit my job and then what? How the hell do I go out there and face Milo after what just happened? And will everyone be able to read the lust shining from my body?

  My eyes flick up to the stalls behind. My skin is stretching with the pressure of need. I desperately want to get off, every pore is craning for a climax. It’s completely nuts. I’m never like this. Can one spanking have made me into a nympho? I really need Tai to tell me if that’s a thing.

  Breathe.

  I take a bunch of deep ones and don’t feel any different. My body is still pulsating hungrily, like a caged panther it knows its prey is out there.

  Shit.

  I undo the buttons on my shirt. Noting that the top one is missing, I toss it in the garbage can. Then, even though I’m the only girl on this floor, I step into the stall to change. I don’t trust Milo not to have some superTech watching and listening. Call me paranoid, but one thing I know is my industry. We’re being watched.

  I change my underwear and dump the dripping wet pair into the bin. Then I shimmy into the dress I chose for tonight. Heels, and I’m ready. I can’t wear a bra because of the low back but when I step out and check my reflection I decide I’ll do. Not stunning but not a dog either. The right amount of sexy without being slutty which my co-workers have a big hate for.

  I decide to leave the mask in place. It’s a masque theme party and some pixie is only going to insist I wear one. Oh damn, the pixie. I remember that one of them burst into the office and caught me in full sprawl. I’ve been so hot and bothered with hunger for my boss that damning piece of evidence somehow slipped my memory. Shit. Well maybe the change of clothes and the mask will disguise me sufficiently.

  The party started half an hour ago and all my colleagues set a schedule App. Every one of them gets irate if anything even runs two minutes over. I know they’ll all be there by now, not a fashionably late type among them. I’d give my right burning buttock as wager it won’t be swinging. That would be an unlikely occurrence even if we stayed there all weekend, what with that nerdy crew.

  I hang around by the main entrance, waiting for Tai to arrive. He really should have been here by now.

  “Ho,ho,ho.”

  Jesus. Seriously?

  I turn around and there’s a six four Santa with a huge belly and from the physique I can tell it’s Lance, Head of HR, in a costume with a huge beard he clearly thinks will disguise his identity.

  “Come along little girl,” he says and drags me by the arm toward the office, now transformed into the Winter Wonderland theme.

  How cheesy - I bet Tania and her crew have really gone to town with the spray can snow everywhere and we’ll be picking it out of filing cabinets until Spring.

  “But I -“ I try to demur without success.

  “You just come with me,” Lance says with a leer, “Tell Daddy what you want for Christmas.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Did I say daddy? I meant to say Santa, little girl.�
��

  We step through the doors and I double take a few times, sure we’ve entered the wrong room. It’s like we’ve crossed into another dimension. Not least because every desk and other trace of office business has vanished.

  “Wow,” I breathe, looking everywhere at once, all my senses firing.

  The blue white lighting makes the office seem like a real ice palace. The floor is entirely covered in snow and it looks real - nothing like cotton wool. As do all the pine trees covered with snowy branches. There are ice sculptures and those are real I think, plus giant glittery snowflakes coming down from the ceiling. It’s magical and mysterious as some digital effect makes it appear to be snowing indoors. Best of all is the ice rink set up towards the center. Some of the guys are already skittering around like little kids and crashing into each other.

  Ohmigod, they aren’t the only ones wiping out. At one end of the large space, a ski run is set up. Easy to accomplish in an office that was once an aircraft hangar. People are coming down on boards in pairs - some of my nerdy colleagues have grabbed themselves a pixie from the set-up team to ride between their legs.

  Ouch. Cutter comes down, hollering and whooping before wiping out at the bottom, presumably with a little help from the hot wine/tequila stand at the top of the hill. Lance from HR has dragged me into an open cave space set up like a grotto with yet more of the ubiquitous pixies in fishnets and a huge silvery throne.

  “Come along little girl. Come sit on daddy’s knee,” He says as he yanks my arm toward his chair.

  “Santa,” I hiss, my irritation getting the better of me.

  Lance lowers himself then puts his big hands on my hips to pull me down onto his lap. He jogs his thighs up and down like he’s dandling an infant and throws me a smug filthy grin as he grinds into my slit.