“Your tits are still on my desk,” he said, standing. “I warned you.”
She gasped in surprise as his fingers closed around the back of her neck and forced her all the way down, until the side of her face was pressed onto the wood. His hand was warm, his grasp strong.
Now she couldn’t move.
They’d crossed the point of no return. That much was clear, and she was a little afraid of what might happen next… and even more afraid of what would come after, when their sweat-dampened bodies lay spent on the torn pile of their clothing.
If she didn’t stop this from happening, Mr. Brennbach might add “slut” to the list of reasons he hated her. Rude. Thoughtless. Slut.
That wasn’t a particularly flattering picture.
Would he really want to fuck her if he hated her so much?
Stupid question. He was a guy, and he probably hadn’t gotten laid in ages. Probably he was just really horny and desperate. Anyway, Mr. Banno had obviously told him about their earlier interactions. Pretending to be the kind of woman who wanted dinner and champagne first—that ship had sailed.
Think of what will happen if you decide not to do this, she ordered herself. It wasn’t easy.
If she stopped him, he’d think it was because of how he looked. Then his list of reasons would include “shallow.”
And “cock tease.” That would surely make the list.
Six of one, half a dozen of the other. No matter what she did, there was a good chance she’d feel bad about it later.
Might as well choose based on what she wanted to do. She sighed happily.
“Stay.” Mr. Brennbach released her and walked around his desk.
Ooh, she liked how he’d said it, how he’d known she would obey. She pressed her cheek and palms against the desk’s warm surface.
One of his hands slapped her ass, then slid down to squeeze the soft, vulnerable skin of her inner thigh through her skirt.
He dug his fingers in deeper, making her whimper.
Then he was bending forward, grabbing her neck. There was that aftershave again, the swirl of bergamot and pine. She closed her eyes, letting it surround her. She felt like she was inhaling a drug, one that took her back to the most perfect five seconds of her life.
“Let me be clear,” he said. “If you don’t tell me to stop, I’m going to pull up your skirt, take down your panties, and discipline you for your brazen behavior.”
A thrill ran the course of her body.
His grip on her neck and her thigh tightened. She felt like a high-strung mare about to be mounted by a stallion.
Yes, she could get away, but at what price? Was she willing to leave a piece of herself behind? Could she even truly get away? Because Mr. Brennbach’s essence was inside her. His scent filled her lungs, and his power was like a cloak that wrapped around them both, binding her to him.
“I’m not a gentle lover,” he said. “When I fuck you, I’ll be claiming you as mine. This will never be a relationship. I will never fall in love with you.”
She was stunned for a second, then insulted. But she said, “That’s a relief. I’d hate to have to break your heart.”
His response was an abrupt laugh. A moment later, his fingers relaxed on her thigh… only to slide down to her knee, then slowly caress higher again, this time under her skirt.
Her flesh trembled. Any second now, he would know how wet she was.
He would know it was because of him. For him.
“I just want us to be clear,” he said, stroking a finger across her panty-covered slit. Electricity sang through her veins.
“We’re clear,” she snapped.
“I’ll teach you manners,” he said. “God knows someone needs to.” The smugness in his voice only made her hotter.
She was panting like a dog, like a bitch in heat, she realized. She’d arched her back, pushing her hips toward him, pleading for his finger to slide her panties aside and plunge inside her channel.
Mr. Brennbach wrenched her torso up, forcing her to look at him. “I can’t figure out your fetish. Rich men? Scars? You want the monster to ravish you?”
In the sunlight, the scarred half of his face looked like hard plastic, unfeeling, incapable of emotion.
Something caught in her throat. She struggled to move away from him, but he wasn’t releasing her.
“If you don’t want me to fuck you, you have to say that. You have to say, ‘Mr. Brennbach, I don’t want you to bend me over your desk and shove your cock into my cunt.’ Actually, you can just say ‘no sex’ and that will be fine.”
The silence was the loudest she’d ever heard, and then he laughed.
“Very well.” He roughly turned her to the side and pushed her shoulders down. She propped her hands on her knees to avoid falling over. “Don’t move,” he said. “Don’t even blink.”
The heat of his body pulled away from her, and she became aware that he was opening his desk drawer. He closed it and opened another one. She couldn’t imagine what he was searching for. Something to spank her with?
Then the sound of ripping foil reached her ears.
Followed by latex being stretched and rolled down. She hadn’t even seen his cock. She’d done a lot of wild things in her life, but she’d never been fucked by a cock that she hadn’t seen beforehand.
Maybe it, too, was deformed? But that didn’t make sense—his scars were recent, and as far as she knew, confined to his face. After all, both his hands were smooth.
“From now on, you will do whatever I tell you to. You know what to say to make me stop. I will use you however I see fit. What do you think about that?”
I will use you however I see fit. It was like something from one of those forbidden romances she sometimes bought at newsstands, then skimmed quickly and furtively before introducing them to the nearest trash can… only to regret it at night, in the darkness and solitude of her bed.
He slapped her ass, and she gasped at his presumptuousness. He slapped her again. “I asked you a question.”
“I think… I think you’re a pervert.”
His laugh filled the room. “In which case you like the idea of being used by a pervert. You think we’ll be beauty and the beast.”
“That’s not true.”
He clamped a hand over her mouth. “I could get a girlfriend if I tried?” He laughed.
She tried to protest, to explain that she’d meant it as a compliment, but it was impossible to speak.
No one had ever treated her like this before. Manhandling her. God, she fucking loved it, and even though she struggled mightily against him, she couldn’t stop grinning, which he surely felt against his palm.
He straightened her just enough so that he could jerk her skirt up over her hips. Tight spasms had started pulsing rhythmically in her core, and her legs trembled with anticipation.
She couldn’t help trying to rub her ass on him.
“Stop that.” He took a short break from yanking down her panties to slap her ass.
Apparently liking the way she gasped and tried to wiggle free, he slapped her ass again and again, a quick tempo, the smacks screaming out, her skin warming under his attentions.
When he stopped, they were both panting. She was glad he couldn’t see her expression.
“Open your legs so I can fuck you.”
She almost died. Trembling with need, she slid her feet apart. His hard and surprisingly large tip prodded her slit.
She had never been so ready for fucking. As the unseen swollen head of his cock pressed into her entrance, she could hear the wetness between her legs. Wanting to make things difficult for him, she clenched her muscles.
But she couldn’t keep him out, couldn’t stop him from shoving his way in, and his insistence was even better than in her fantasies.
Only the tip of his cock was inside her, but he was so thick that there was no way he could easily slip out. He kept her upright.
Her body vibrated with anticipation.
“Be st
ill,” he ordered, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the front of her throat, cradling her. The thin metal of the chain pressed against her skin. “I want you to be quiet. If you fake an orgasm or put on a show, I’ll know, and I’ll punish you. Move your hips.”
Desperately, she began working her hips in a circle. He shoved forward, pressing another inch of his erection into her pussy. Oh, he was so thick.
She loved the way he’d taken control of her, of the situation. The way he knew exactly what he wanted was the ultimate turn-on. He was the opposite of the other guys she’d been with, who’d thought that when she asked for “rough sex” she just wanted her hair pulled a little. One guy had given her a decent spanking. After, he’d been unable to meet her eyes. It had been like a bucket of ice water thrown in her face.
But the fire hadn’t been extinguished. It had kept smoldering just below the surface.
Mr. Brennbach had barely touched her, yet his control was absolute. This was what she’d been craving, one of those heroes she’d fantasized about coming to life.
He didn’t look the part. Not at all. But she was addicted nonetheless.
8
With Mr. Brennbach’s hands over her mouth and across her neck, she felt cradled. Just like earlier, when he’d caught her on the street.
Except now, the only danger was Mr. Brennbach himself.
He thrust his hips, skewering her on his cock and making her whimper. She couldn’t know for sure without looking, but the heavy fullness inside her and the uncomfortable stretching of her entrance suggested he was the largest man she’d ever been with.
And that thrilled her even more.
Her moans were stifled by his palm, but keeping quiet was impossible. His girth was slick inside her, thank goodness, or he would have ripped her apart.
“Is this what you came here for?” he growled in her ear. “Are you happy now?”
She couldn’t help laughing. The pressure of his palm, which was wet from her mouth, pressed her lips against her teeth.
She inhaled through her nose. Oh god, she loved the way he smelled. Was it simple association, because he’d caught her—saved her from injury and humiliation? Or was it some primal chemistry thing?
Either way, she was powerless against it.
He walked them both forward, and she found herself leaning on the desk again, her palms flat on the cool, smooth surface as she arched her back, bracing for more fucking.
His cock was shoved deep inside her. She missed his hand over her mouth, and she wished he would start thrusting. She wished he’d figure out why she had a clit.
What she got instead was a finger in her ass.
Her eyes and mouth flew open. “What are you doing?”
“Shut up.” As large as his finger was, it was still smaller than a cock—and much smaller than his cock. He finger-fucked her ass.
“That’s not doing anything for me,” she gasped, briefly squeezing her eyes closed. The intrusion felt good, but also too intimate.
“Liar. I’m inside you. I can feel your wet little pussy begging for more.”
What an arrogant asshole, she thought, but she couldn’t deny the inappropriate rush of pleasure and the accompanying heat coiling in her pussy, which was stuffed full with his unmoving cock.
She started to get up.
He pushed her back into position and held her there, his hand rudely against the side of her face. “Do you want me to take my cock away? I could walk into any bar in the city and pick up a dozen women just like you.”
He moved his hand, and she tried to bite him. Laughing, he evaded her teeth and walloped her ass so hard that her foot kicked up. “Answer my question. Shall I go find some other easy piece of ass to sink my dick into?”
“No,” she spat. “Having hate-sex with you is better than photocopying.”
“You don’t know me well enough to hate me. Not yet, but you will. And this? It’s coming out of your break time.”
“Bastard,” she hissed.
He laughed hard, his body shaking, and hers, too, because of all the ways he was inside her.
Mr. Brennbach fucked her nice and slow.
She had never been so close to orgasming from so little clitoral stimulation.
With each press of his hand, her entire body flattened against the table.
He picked up speed. Her pussy spasmed and squeezed him, but she wasn’t coming. Not yet. She would need more.
Three fingers tunneled painfully into her ass and began ramming insistently.
After a moment, she gave in, arched her back, and allowed him to stretch her hole. He was going to do it anyway. She got even wetter.
He groaned, and his body went stiff. His demands, his orgasm, and the swelling of his cock almost sent her over the edge.
But in the end, it didn’t.
She relaxed against the table. Her cheeks and forehead were damp with perspiration.
Her boss reached down, between their bodies, then he was pulling out of both holes. Whimpering, she glanced back just as he was turning away, the spent condom in his hand.
“Don’t move,” he said.
She wondered if she should tell him that she hadn’t gotten off. Or maybe he knew he’d failed, and she’d only be embarrassing him further?
He pushed onto the side of the bookcase, and it swung out. From her current position leaning over the desk, there was no hope of seeing what lay on the other side, but a moment later she heard water running.
When he came back out, he was completely put back together—cock away, hair damp and slicked away from his face, tie nice and straight.
Apparently, he’d gotten his, and now he was finished.
Irritated, she started to push away from the desk, but Mr. Brennbach stopped her with a single word. “No.”
His cell phone buzzed. He looked at it, then picked up his office phone and pushed a button. A moment later, he said, “Raphael’s in the building. Apparently it didn’t go well. Grab him and come right to my office.”
He hung up.
“Um, excuse me,” she said. “I’m sure this is fun for you, but I don’t need everyone seeing my bare pussy.”
He leaned on the edge of the desk, and his hand came to rest on her head, covering her jaw and neck. She could smell that scent again. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so undone by him?
“It won’t be everyone,” he said. “Only Trent and Raphael.”
Trent was Mr. Banno; she knew that. “Who is Raphael?”
“The first one you tried to seduce,” he said, and her heart stopped beating.
She didn’t have time to argue with him, because a moment later the door opened.
Mr. Brennbach’s touch on her head grew firmer. She became aware of how exposed she was, her fluids drying on her pussy and thighs, her skirt hiked over her hips, and Mr. Brennbach holding her in this submissive position.
The door closed, rather loudly, it seemed.
No one said anything. Maisie shifted her weight in her shoes, trying to keep her toes and the arches of her feet from cramping.
“What the hell, Ethan.”
Maisie was pretty sure Mr. Banno was the one who had spoken.
“Friends, this is the new submissive.”
Maisie’s heart leapt in her chest.
Someone groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Mr. Brennbach—Ethan—did something that caused his hold on her to lighten, just for a moment. She could have squirmed free… if she’d wanted.
“Hands behind your back,” he said. He yanked up her panties somewhat. She couldn’t see, but she could feel the elastic’s weird angle, and the fabric was bunched unevenly.
Slowly, she pulled her hands back. Her palms were sweaty, and one of them made a high-pitched squeak as she dragged it down the desk. She had to rock her torso to turn her arms around.
Ethan grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the small of her back. Instantly, she felt herself getting wet again.
&
nbsp; “Goddamn,” a breathless male voice said. Then Mr. Lattimore’s face was beside hers. “Are you ok?” he asked.
She nodded and bit back a smile. “More than ok.”
His eyes searched hers, and she saw hunger there, the desire to believe her. “You know there are three of us, right?”
Oh god. She hadn’t thought of it like that, hadn’t known if Ethan was going to merely humiliate her or what, but now she was starting to get the picture.
The smile broke through. “Really, I’ve never been better.”
It seemed to put his fears at ease, because the little crease between his eyebrows abated some. Then it reappeared. “Have you ever done this sort of thing—”
“Relax, Raphael,” Ethan said. “There were developments in Trent’s office that you don’t know about.”
Raphael straightened. She turned her head a little but was only able to see from his elbows down. She could see Mr. Banno—Trent—too. Or part of him, at least.
Then Trent turned his body slightly to the side, and she caught an eyeful of the enormous hardened bulge she’d only glimpsed earlier.
Dear god.
Trent was fucking huge.
Her mouth was watering so much that she had to swallow.
Raphael was scrawling something on Ethan’s legal pad. His pen loudly scraped across the page, which he then ripped out and placed on the desk beside her. “Sign this.”
She read the hastily composed lines—not an easy feat given her position. It was a non-disclosure agreement with some liability release wordage. Ethan released one of her wrists, and she signed as best she could.
“Even I know that won’t hold up in court,” she said as Ethan roughly pulled her arm back.
Raphael picked up the paper and folded it in half. “Don’t be so sure.”
“I’m not going to sue you. Anyway, I heard you never lose, so what would be the point?” She said the last bit in a resigned tone, and to her delight, they laughed.
Even Ethan.
The tension in the room dissipated.
“Let’s see her,” Raphael said, and joy quickened her pulse.
Ethan relaxed his grip on her wrists. He slid his hand under her shoulder and brought her vertical.
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