by Carter, Ivy
My breath hitches. “I—”
He silences me with a hiss. “You do not have permission to speak.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and tugs at them so hard they tear. I feel what’s left of them slide down my thighs.
His voice is deep and rumbling as he growls his verdict. “And you must be punished for your impudence.”
Before I can ask what he means, his palm connects with my bare ass.
What the hell?
I bite my lip so as not to cry out as the sting ripples all the way up my spine. He spanks me again, this time harder. His hand lingers, fingers trailing dangerously close to my pussy. I’m too shocked to protest. My body wars with wanting him to stop and needing more.
“Again,” he says, and I close my eyes, bracing for whatever comes next. My skin hums under his touch. I chew on the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. It shouldn’t, but my arousal grows stronger with each swift paddle across my ass.
My pussy is already dripping from the excitement of it all.
He leans close, pressing his hard cock into me through the fabric of his trousers. His breath whispers across my neck. “You’ve been a very bad girl. But you took your punishment very well.”
Am I supposed to thank him?
His hands move to my waist and he spins me around. Blood rushes to my head. He grabs my ass and lifts me onto the desk.
“What…what are you doing?” I stammer.
He wheels a chair around and sits. “I’m going to reward you…”
Right. Okay. I swallow hard.
Everything happens so fast. He pries my legs wide and pushes on my stomach until I’m flat on my back across the desk. My chest heaves. I’m so wet I catch a whiff of my own sex. He breathes deep. “You smell good, baby.”
His voice uncoils what’s left of my hesitation and I open up to him, inviting his touch.
He pushes his face between my thighs, planting light kisses across my flesh.
This is what I’ve literally been dreaming about, exactly this, and I’m trembling from the desire and lust that’s overtaken me completely.
His breath is hot on my pussy, not quite touching, not yet. My clit swells with anticipation. The first swipe of his tongue along my slit makes me cry out. He grips my hips and licks me. I hear him groan against my wetness, and it’s almost my undoing.
My clit throbs with the need to be sucked and licked. I arch my back in invitation.
He grips my thighs and dives in. His tongue glides along my pussy, making me wetter, hotter, more desperate for his touch. I throw back my head and close my eyes, giving in to this—to him.
“You taste so good,” he rumbles against me.
His voice is low, rough. I have never felt so wanted and sexy. And wet. My God, I’m wet. “Don’t stop,” I whisper.
I lift my hips, pushing his tongue into the folds of my slit. It draws circles around the tiny nub of my sex, licking, and sucking, and flicking with just the right amount of pressure. I grab the edge of the desk and thrash against his mouth. My teeth sink into my lip as I struggle not scream.
The pressure mounts.
I let go of the desk and bury my hands in his hair. I grab a handful and tug, release, tug some more, my grip mimicking the rhythm of his mouth. He licks, sucks, flicks his tongue across my swollen pussy. Jesus, fuck. He’s going to make me come.
I writhe under him, desperate for release.
I’m beginning to pant.
“Come for me,” he says.
I feel the orgasm surging so close. “Don’t stop.” Sweat beads across my brow. “Please, don’t stop.”
His tongue moves like lightening between my thighs. Flicking, sucking, licking. The orgasm hits hard and fast. It surges through my body, sending a tingling vibration through to my toes. The tension drains as I give in to the pleasure.
I arch my back, allowing full access. His mouth closes over me and he sucks, draining every last drop. When at last the vibrations stop, Duke pulls away.
My body goes limp.
It takes all my energy to lift my head off the desk. He sits upright and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His beard glistens with dewdrops of my release. Those dark bedroom eyes glint with a wickedness that both frightens and thrills me.
I slide off the desk and awkwardly slip my skirt down over my hips. In the haze of my pleasure, confusion begins to swirl. What just happened? I bend to retrieve my discarded panties—another pair for the trash—but Duke gathers them in his fist. “These are mine now.”
I look up at him through hooded lashes, a shy smile playing on my lips. “I’m afraid I’m going to need some new underwear.”
“You may go now,” he says.
My eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”
Duke averts his gaze, and dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Works starts at 8 a.m. tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Chapter 11
I’m halfway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream when my text message buzzes. I consider ignoring it.
Another buzz.
Fuck.
I know it’s going to be Forrest (Jake’s too busy moping about his ex) bugging me as to what happened after they left the office.
If I don’t turn the cell off, I don’t have a hope in hell of kicking this insomnia in the face. It’s probably a lost cause either way. I stab at another spoonful of ice cream, watching as it slithers off the spoon and back into the tub, half melted.
My insides are a bloody mess.
I keep replaying the scene—keep telling myself I didn’t do anything wrong. My intentions were good. And yet I still, somehow, ended up flat on my back with my boss’s tongue between my thighs.
And…bam! Just like that, I’m wet all over again.
I wind my hair into a pony tail and pile it loosely on top of my head. My reflection in the mirror is distorted without my glasses, but I already know what’s there. A plain Jane. Boring. Naïve. I don’t know what game Duke Kingston is playing with me, but I know this for sure: I’m losing.
His last words replay over and over in my mind. You can go.
How was I supposed to respond? Should I have unzipped his pants and taken his cock into my mouth?
Lord knows I wanted to. It’s not like the invitation was there.
I toss my spoon in the ice cream bucket and dump everything in the sink. My phone buzzes yet again. I snatch it off the counter prepared to fire off a firm text to Forest instructing him to leave me the hell alone.
But the texts aren’t from my business partner. They’re from Duke. I walk back to my bed, reading the messages, my eyes widening.
I can still taste you.
Are you awake?
Hailey?
My stomach goes all fluttery. I punch in a response. Erase it. Try again.
I’m absolutely shit at flirting. I start a new text. Change my mind. Back space, back space, back space. Jesus this is hard. I’m here, I type in finally, pressing send. It’s the best I could do.
What are you wearing? He fires back.
My grin widens. Not underwear. None left.
I’ll buy you a lingerie store.
The fluttering in my stomach picks up speed. I imagine Duke on the other end of the phone, smiling a little bit perhaps. It’s not at all the persona he shows face-to-face, but this flirty guy? Yeah, I could fall for someone like that.
I type back quickly. At this rate, I’ll need the whole chain of stores.
Take my suggestion and go without.
There’s a long pause as I try to figure out what to respond. He jumps in. I’m picturing your pussy right now.
My throat makes some kind of strangled groaning sound. Jesus. I refuse to repeat last night’s behavior, but I’m already wet. Get some sleep, I text.
Tease.
I chew on my lower lip as a million responses come to mind, all of them too intimate, too personal. I want to invite him into my bed—not this bed, but a bed, or suggest we head back to the office to pic
k up where things left off. I want to say I wish we were sleeping together or that I miss him, or even that I really enjoyed this morning’s punishment—and pleasure.
Instead I type: Don’t let the bed bugs bite.
I prefer to do the biting. Night.
My stomach does a full-on flip. I press my cellphone against my chest, heart racing. Is it possible Duke is actually…dare I think it…interested in me?
Truly interested?
That might be the most frightening possibility of all.
Chapter 12
I arrive at work ten minutes early, my plaid skirt pressed, make-up carefully applied, hair pulled into a professional up-do. I adjust my glasses, square my shoulders, and exhale before walking through the glass door. Once inside the lobby, I freeze. Breathe it all in.
A giant Kingston Industries sign hangs over the reception desk, where a petite blonde woman smiles in welcome. Forrest and Jake are seated in the lobby, each in a suit and tie.
Jake’s trousers hang from his thin frame and he looks somehow even worse than he did yesterday. His dark circles under his eyes have bags now, and his skin is pale and clammy looking.
He’s shaven, but it’s patchy, like he wasn’t paying much attention when he used the razor. He even has what looks like a small scab over by his jawline.
“Bout time,” Jakes says, frowning.
The receptionist stands. “You must be Hailey.” Without waiting for a response, she hands me a key card and an envelope. “Mr. Kingston would like me to show you to your offices.”
Offices. Damn, I like the sound of that.
My excitement is tampered only slightly by the fact that Duke isn’t there to welcome us on board. Obviously he has better things to do. It’s just, after last night’s texts, I wondered if things might be different between us.
More personal.
But no, this is still work, I remind myself firmly.
We follow the receptionist to the elevator, where we travel in silence to the third floor. Duke is more than a dozen floors above, in an office that makes me blush just to think about. We weave through a series of workstations, mostly cubicles, where a diverse collection of employees are hard at work. Phones ring, keyboards tap, soft music filters through the air. No one bothers to look up or acknowledge us. Huh.
Somehow I expected a warmer atmosphere.
We’re led to a small room at the back end of the third floor. At the door, we’re asked to sign in via thumbprint.
A hidden scanner whirs and clicks. Holy shit, the security in this place is state of the art.
Inside, three workstations have been set up to include a desk, phone, bookshelf, and file cabinet. Fancy, but not over the top like Duke’s office. A common seating area at the back of the room features a sofa, two chairs and a coffee station that is already set to brew. Two large windows overlook Lake Michigan and Navy Pier.
“You’ll want to pull the blinds midday,” the receptionist says. “It can get quite warm in here.”
She exits the room, leaving the three of us standing in the center, spinning around to take it all in. I slide into my chair and roll it up to my desk, running my hands over its smooth wooden surface. I find a Day-Timer, fancy pens, a calculator, and a new laptop.
I flip open the screen and follow the instructions on the Post-it note to log into to the company’s corporate computer network. It’s loaded with passwords and warnings and levels of access, most of which we won’t be able to reach. It doesn’t matter.
I. Am. Here.
At Kingston Industries.
And it’s my first day on the job.
I lift the phone receiver and listen for the dial tone. Punch in my mother’s cell. She answers on the first ring with a hesitant hello. “Mom?”
“Hailey?”
I’m her only daughter but I grant her a pass because the number’s probably blocked. “I’m at work,” I whisper.
“Work? Where?”
“At Kingston Industries.” Just saying the words makes me break out into a grin. Imagine what she would say if I told I’d already been intimate with the boss? “I make $100,000 a year, Mom.”
She half laughs, which tells me she doesn’t have a clue what Kingston Industries is, but she does appreciate the salary for someone so young. “Very impressive, dear. Shouldn’t you be getting to work?”
I say goodbye and hang up, still beaming. On my lunch break, I’ll call Dad. He’ll know of Kingston Industries, how impressive it is. I catch Jake and Forrest staring at me. “What?”
Forrest grins a little. “I didn’t know how much working here meant to you.”
Jake shrugs and mutters, pulling out his phone and looking at something. Perhaps a text from his ex?
“Of course it means a lot,” I tell Forrest, only then realizing how much of an achievement this really is.
So I suppose I didn’t really get it either.
Not until I found myself sitting in this chair, a chair that has rollers and turns and fits my butt like it was hand-made for me. Through the window, the blue sky stretches into the endless horizon. The sun shines in, casting rays across the plush carpet. I want to take off my heels and bury my toes in it, but that doesn’t seem at all professional and if there’s anything I need to be today, it’s professional.
“So, now what?”
I tilt my head toward Forrest. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve set up my computer, logged on to the internet, and organized my desk drawers. You’ve called your mom. What happens now?”
Jake slams down his phone. “Fuck it.”
“Marissa, again?” I ask hesitantly.
“She won’t even fucking talk to me,” he says, and the hurt in his voice is surprisingly intense.
I walk over to the coffee station and pour a fresh cup. The brew smells expensive, fresh. I could totally get used to this. “Maybe she just needs some time.” I lift the lid on a glass container and gasp. “Guys! There’s donuts over here.” Six different flavors, plus a basket of chips, cheezies, and wine gums. Now that’s what I call hospitality. I’m almost giddy.
Jake snags a bag of chips. “How much time can she need? She’s been ignoring me for days.”
Forrest takes a big bite out of a Boston Cream donut. I settle for something with sprinkles.
“Dude, you need to lay off Marissa. She told you she wanted space—“ Forrest starts.
Jake shoots him a look full of something close to hatred. “Forget I said anything about it,” he replies coldly.
I can’t figure out what Duke expects us to do. There are no instructions, and I’m way too chicken to call him for advice. I consider composing an email, or even a text.
“We need to do something,” I say, thinking aloud. “We can’t just sit here all day doing nothing.”
“Why not?” Forrest asks.
“Because some of us actually want to do work. We’re not all content to just pick up a paycheck and contribute nothing for the next three years.”
Suddenly, a salt and pepper potato chip flies past my ear and hits the wall nearby.
“What the—“ I say.
“Careful,” Forrest says, throwing a chunk of donut at me this time, laughing wildly.
The donut hits my raised hand, which I use to try and deflect the flying object.
“Don’t,” I say, laughing. And then I’m tossing a piece of my own donut at Forrest, and it hits his right cheek with a giant plopping sound.
“Oh, now it’s really on,” Forrest says. He stands and comes toward me, a cream-filled pieced of donut in his hand like he’s about to shove it in my face. I squeal and start running toward the door. Forest is hot on my heels. I fling open the door and WHAM!
Duke’s standing there, his brow furrowed like an angry parent.
I am inches from his chest and Forrest is Right. Behind. Me.
“Shit,” Forrest murmurs.
My sentiments exactly.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Duke asks, taki
ng in the scene.
“Food fight?” I say, meekly. And that’s when I really understand that honesty is not always the best policy.
Duke storms past me and begins gathering the things at my desk into his arms. My purse dangles from his forearm, the company laptop is tucked to his chest. Even my coffee cup is swooped up in one swift, agitated motion.
Am I being fired already? On my first day of work?
I feel nauseous and angry at Forrest for starting that stupidity.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice trembling a little.
Duke scowls. “Clearly you need to be separated.”
I resist the urge to protest, to act like a kid and point… They started it. Somehow I doubt that’s an excuse Duke would accept. Still, I don’t appreciate being singled out. “Where am I going?”
Duke levels me with a hard stare. My throat goes dry. “From now on, you’ll be working from my office where I can keep an eye on you.”
Chapter 13
I trail Duke to the eighteenth floor like a lost puppy. He’s so angry he can’t speak.
Okay, so we were acting like school kids at recess, but that doesn’t give him cart blanche to treat me like I’m a fucking criminal.
My blood boils hot.
Duke gestures for me to get out of the elevator and storms into his office. He tosses my things on the sofa and points to a small desk in the corner of the room that faces the wall. That is where Duke expects me to work?
“Did you forget to order in my dunce cap?”
“I suggest you watch your tone.”
“Or what?” I bracket my hands on my hips. “You’ll spank me?”
There’s a dangerous look in his eye that tells me I should back off. I don’t. I’m angry and confused, and on the verge of tears. If I don’t get mad, I’ll cry. And there is absolutely NO way I’ll cry in front of Duke Kingston. Not now, not ever.
I gather my things and set them at the desk. Duke ignores me, attending to some kind of paperwork. The shuffle of paper grates on my nerves. I open my laptop and check my emails. Nada. I skim the documents in the envelope the receptionist gave me, but there’s nothing important in there either.