by Amelia Wilde
“Are you spread wide for me?”
“As—as wide as I can—I can’t go any—”
“Good girl.”
She’s murmuring my name, and I know she’s writhing on her bed, naked and open and exposed, and I tighten my grip on my cock.
“Are you ready to come, sweet thing?”
“Yes. Please, Dominic, please say I can come, please—I can’t wait much longer, I can’t—”
“Wait.”
“Please!”
Her begging is urgent, sweet, and I’m so close, I’m almost there, I’m right at the edge—
“Come now, Vivienne. Now. And let me hear you.”
The sound of her moans, the rhythmic rocking of her hips against the bed, pushes me over into abrupt release. At the last moment, I drop the phone on the coffee table and grab a tissue from a discreet dispenser built into its surface, coming in hard waves.
“Now rest,” I say, when I’m finally in control of myself again. “Rest, sweet thing.”
She murmurs a goodbye, and I hang up.
Not bad for an evening apart.
19
Vivienne
Dominic makes me wait.
It’s an exquisite torture, thinking of him, waiting for his text messages to arrive, hoping every moment that I’ll step away from my desk and come back to find another one of those white envelopes.
I force myself not to get lost in the fantasies, even though it’s an effort that I make every hour of every day.
Because I’m here to do a job.
I’m here to do a job that has consequences for the country, as well as for Wilder Enterprises, and even though I’m totally swept up in this man, in waiting for him to make the next move, I can’t let myself drown entirely.
Wednesday goes by with no word from him, then Thursday. After Tuesday’s gift, I’m not concerned that he’s forgotten me—I’m not worried about that at all. With every moment that goes by, it becomes more and more clear that he’s playing this game at a more advanced level than any other man I’ve known.
I roll my eyes. Not that I’ve been in relationships like this with any other man.
The thought brings me up short as I’m writing up a meeting agenda for Mr. Overhiser.
A relationship?
No.
What am I thinking?
I let out a short little laugh, which naturally draws the older man out from his office.
“Vivienne,” he says in a jovial tone that somehow manages to seem predatory at the same time. “Care to share?”
“Oh, you know.” I give him an indulgent smile. I need him to trust me implicitly, without him getting even the slightest hint that I’m attracted to him in any way. He might be some kind of old lecher outside office hours, but I’m not taking any chances while I work for him. “I was remembering something funny I saw in a movie last weekend.”
“What movie?”
I’m ready with the name of the latest blockbuster hit on the tip of my tongue. Years in the FBI have made this sort of advance preparation habitual, so it’s rare that I’m caught off-guard.
By anyone but Dominic.
“That was a good one.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, and I follow up with a close-lipped smile and start to turn my attention back to my computer. “Oh, Vivienne?”
“Yes?” I look up at him with as neutral an expression as possible.
“I’m going to be heading out a few hours early today.” A few hours early—it’s a little past noon. He frowns a little, like he doesn’t want to ask me what he’s about to ask me. “I’ll need you to stay until five.”
I wave a hand in the air. “That’s no problem. I’m finalizing the meeting agenda for Monday, and then I’ll be cross-checking to make sure the schedule is still a green light for the other attendees. Is there anything else you’d like me to take care of before I leave?”
He pretends as if he’s only now thought of a few more things, but I see right through his act as he reels them off. After the second item on the list, I pull out a notepad and take down careful notes. When he finally stops speaking, I set the notepad down carefully on the desk and glance at my computer screen. “I’ll be sure to have that all finished before I leave for the evening.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s absolutely no problem, Mr. Overhiser.”
Then he disappears back into his office and I hear him opening various drawers in his desk and file cabinet. Less than a week on the job, and I can already time the swooshes and thuds to the second. This is the sound of Mr. Overhiser leaving for the evening and going God knows where. He has a wife, but from the whispers I overhear around the water cooler, he definitely doesn’t spend his evenings with her. One of the other women, Candy, had leaned in close to me on Wednesday afternoon. “I think he’s in one of those secret clubs.” She’d given me a meaningful look. “You know.”
I don’t know what kind of secret club she’s referring to, but I do know that the city is littered with exclusive clubs for every different taste, and Mr. Overhiser will be going to one that caters to the wealthy.
I wonder if that’s where he meets his contact.
Luckily for me, he’s presenting me with a prime opportunity on a silver platter.
I hear his voice, speaking low, and know we’ve reached the end of the “getting ready to leave” performance. He’s calling his driver to bring the car around, and then he’s striding through the small reception area next to my desk.
“Enjoy your weekend, Vivienne.” His eyes linger a little too long on my neckline, which is purposefully high, but his eyes don’t stray anywhere else.
I watch him get into the elevator, and then I wait another ten minutes.
I finish the meeting agenda, send an email to all the other chief executive assistants, and then stand up from my desk, bustling around, rearranging papers for the benefit of anyone who might happen to walk by Mr. Overhiser’s office.
I step into his main office, put something on the desk, and then step back out again, sitting down at mine for another few minutes. It’s an elaborate performance, but there’s nothing I’m doing that would signal anything out of the ordinary.
When the moment feels right, I slip a flash drive out of my top desk drawer, grab a pile of folders, and head back into his office, sitting down confidently in front of his computer.
I type in his password without hesitating. He only had to enter it in front of me once for me to memorize it. I stick the flash drive into one of the ports, turn my attention to the folder, and wait the fifteen seconds it takes for the drive to work its magic, downloading Overhiser’s search history and email logs for the past six months. That should be more than enough to determine if there’s a connection. It’s been three months since this company was flagged by the FBI.
When the download is finished, I take out the flash drive, pile up the folders, and make my way back to my desk, sitting down in time for the desk phone to ring.
My heart is only beating slightly harder.
“Mr. Overhiser’s office.” My voice is smooth, betraying absolutely nothing.
“Vivienne.”
One word and my entire body is alight with desire. “Mr. Wilder.” I’m careful in my response, because the door is open to the rest of the offices and half the executive assistants are as gossip-obsessed as Marie. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you hungry?”
I’d been expecting a thousand other responses, most having to do with the sensual and sexy things he’d like to do with me—and to me—but this one throws me for a loop.
“Am I—um, I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Are your responsibilities taken care of for the lunch hour?”
“Of course.” I inject a little insult into my tone. “I’m ahead of schedule, in fact.” More than you know…
“Come have lunch with me.”
“In your office?”
“In my penthouse. The elevator will ask you for a code. It’s
1123.”
It’s been three days since I’ve spoken to him. There’s no decision to be made.
“I’m on my way.”
20
Dominic
Vivienne steps off the elevator with flushed cheeks and a sway in her hips, her green eyes determined. Still, she’s smiling all the same, a private smile that makes me wish I could read her thoughts.
“You kept me waiting.” Her voice falls gently in the quiet space, here on top of the building, where the only sound to keep us company is the hum of the air conditioning unit and the wind swirling around the building. We’re a week into July and the city is sultry and hot, but up here, it’s cool and dark.
“You enjoyed yourself.” I don’t pose it as a question because it’s obvious from the look on her face that she has been enjoying herself.
She crosses the room and comes to stand in front of me. I’ve taken a position in the center, near a small dining table set for two with a white linen tablecloth, one edge neatly pressed against the window glass so we can look out over the view while we eat. “You did give me a gift that made it easy to…find enjoyable pockets of time.”
Not that I intend to spend much time looking at the view when Vivienne is seated right across from me.
I lean down to speak directly into her ear, even though there’s nobody else to hear us, and I’ve made sure we won’t be interrupted. “Doesn’t the anticipation taste wonderful?”
“No,” she says, and then her hands are on the sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss that starts out hard and hot and builds in passion until she breaks away abruptly. “But you—you taste like heaven.”
I could have said the same thing to her, but I don’t say anything. I reach out and trace the line of her jaw with a fingertip, and she leans her head into my hand, her eyes locked on mine. “It’s hard to wait, Dominic.” Her voice is a husky whisper, and when I speak, mine is, too.
“You only have to wait a little longer.”
A flash of frustration crosses her face, a flash of need. “How much longer?”
That’s my cue. I wrap my hands around her jaw and pull her face into mine, kissing her in a way that demands submission, that demands that she open for me, and she does. I back her up against a partial wall behind the table, pressing her spine against the smooth surface, and when she reaches for me, I catch both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. Her nipples are pebbled even through the fabric of her bra and her dress, and with the other hand, I toy with one, then the other, drawing out a gasp from her that turns into a little moan.
I press the length of my body against hers, and her hips rise away from the wall to meet me, my hard length pressing into the front of her smooth belly.
“I’ll decide when you’ve waited long enough,” I growl into her ear, and every breath she takes is a testament to how turned on she is. “Or do you want to push me? Do you want to keep asking until you’ve crossed the line, until I’m forced to punish you?”
Her head is tipped back against the wall, her elegant neck exposed to me, but at my words, her eyes fly open and something wicked bolts through them. Her lips part. “How long, Dominic?” Each word is a separate island falling from her mouth. “How long do I have to wait?”
I steel my face, drowning in the intensity of her eyes, and her eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. She wants this. She wants it badly, but now that the moment is here—now that she sees the future in my face—nervousness must be cascading through her veins.
I give a short nod, then draw her hands down in front of her. “You’ve made your choice, Vivienne. Come this way.”
I don’t give her much of a choice, leading her by the wrists away from the table and into the private office, where the gleaming mahogany desk awaits. I stop her right in front of it.
“Bend over.”
She bites her lip, cutting her eyes sideways at me. I look back at her, unwavering. This is part of the pleasure of punishment, as she’s about to learn. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“Not fast enough,” I say tersely. “That will only add to your punishment. Bend. Over.”
She moves to the desk, but it’s still not quick enough, so I put a hand on her shoulders and press. Vivienne gasps as the pressure forces her to bend.
“Hands on the desk. Head down—closer. There. Arch your back.” I run my hands down her back, adjusting her position. “Your legs should be spread.” She moves them apart a few inches. “Wider.” I bend to growl into her ear. “This is punishment, Vivienne, and you’ll be exposed to me whether you like it or not.”
“Yes—yes, Dominic.”
My cock gets harder at her attempt.
“‘Yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
I press my hand harder into the small of her back. “Hold this position.”
She’s trembling under my hands, but her voice is clear. “Yes, sir.”
I flip the skirt of her dress upward, folding it toward her hips, displaying her black lace panties to me. Then I draw the palm of my hand across the luscious curves of her ass.
“Ten strokes, with my open hand,” I say, as if I’m commenting on the weather. “Five for insisting on asking the question after I told you to stop, and five more for resisting your punishment.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to argue, but thinks better of it. Her hands go tight on the edge of the desk, her knuckles white, but her ass lifts another inch into the air. I force myself not to dip my fingers into her folds right now, but from the scent of her, she’s already wet.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down. She gasps as the air curls its tendrils between her legs, and the sound makes my cock twitch in my pants. But I’m not going to indulge it yet. No—that’s not the lesson here.
I take my place beside her, one hand on the small of her back, and rub my other hand over her ass one more time. “Count.”
Then, without another moment of hesitation, I whip my hand back and bring it down hard on one of her cheeks. The sound of my hand connecting with her creamy flesh, turning it pink, makes me want to come right now.
Vivienne yelps, but then she remembers the rules, and damn, does she want to play the game. “One.”
I bring my hand down again, another crack. “Two…” she whimpers.
I don’t think she’s ever been spanked before—not like this—but her whole body is tensed with the effort of staying still.
“Good girl.”
I bring my hand down a third time, and watch a droplet of her juices trickle down her inner thigh.
21
Vivienne
Dominic Wilder is spanking me, bringing his hand down in even strokes across my ass, and my heart is thundering in my chest. The air in the room has thinned, somehow, and I can hardly get a breath, but somehow I manage to suck one in before I need to count the next stroke.
I can’t believe how turned on I am.
I can’t believe how dirty this is, how filthy, how much I like it. I can’t believe that I didn’t turn around and run the moment I let that fantasy slip out of my mouth to him, and I can’t believe I didn’t laugh it off earlier when he let me know I was goading him into punishment.
And when he says “Good girl…”
I hold tightly to the desk like it’s a lifeboat, counting. Five, six, seven, and my mind roils with the stinging pain, the thought of my own ass turning red under the force of his hand, the way he must look standing next to me, so tall, so powerful, and here I am, legs spread wide, bent over a desk, ass in the air, submitting to a man I can’t get out of my head.
My thoughts are crystallized with each stroke, and then they fly apart in the interval. Heat pulses in my cheeks. I’m mortified, but I don’t know if I’m embarrassed because I wanted this, or because I’m enjoying it right now, or both.
How could I be enjoying this? I’m an independent woman. I’ve worked hard for everything I have. I’ve challenged men in my job
and I’m making a name for myself with or without them. And here I am—here I am—bent over Dominic Wilder’s desk having practically begged him to punish me.
And it feels—
It hurts, but the ache zings up and down my spine, turning into a need so intense it’s all I can do not to buck my hips, not to beg him to touch me, to please, please, let me come. I can feel my wetness dripping down the insides of my thighs, and it’s a dead giveaway—there’s no way he hasn’t noticed.
Eight, nine, ten.
There’s a ringing silence when he’s done spanking me, and my entire body trembles, hands still gripping the edge of the desk. I hold my breath. I don’t want to move, don’t want the moment to shatter. If I have to sit down across from him and eat lunch right now, I think I’ll die.
Then Dominic is touching me again, his smooth palm rubbing over the hot skin on my bottom, gentle, firm, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes me.
“Oh—”
“You’ve been a very good girl,” he says, his voice low and measured and soft. “You took your punishment well. And I see—” Finally— finally—his hand is sliding backward, and I press my ass out toward him, spreading my legs apart another inch, a wordless cry that I need him, I need him. “I see you’ve enjoyed it.”
“Yes—” The word is a hiss that’s drawn out by the fact that he’s stroking my wet, swollen slit, his fingers dancing over my folds. “Please—”
“What do you want from me, sweet thing?”
“I—” I want him to claim me, but I know the game we’re playing, and I don’t think all the begging in the world will convince him to take me right now. In fact, begging might have the opposite effect. I can’t get my thoughts in order to figure out what to say. I can’t— “I want you to fuck me,” I blurt out. “I want you to, please, God, I want you to, but I know—”
“You know I’m not going to give in, don’t you?”
“I know—” Now my hips are bucking against his hand. I can’t control them, can’t do anything but hold on tight to the desk, stay bent over, pray that he’ll touch me, give me some release. If he’s not going to, I might quit the game, because my core is throbbing with need, aching. “I need to come. Dominic, please, you’re torturing me.”