by CELENE CAREY
Chapter Two
Stepping off the elevator, Angelique rushed through the maze of offices in her heels, careful not to catch the prong on any of the random loose threads. She hated the plush carpeting. Though beautiful, it was hell on the women in the building. Not that the men noticed. She was three hours late, an hour from her lunch break. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, her face scrubbed, teeth brushed, and her outfit not-quite wrinkle-free, but at least it was in one piece and clean. There was a tiny tear in her stocking, but she prayed to God no one noticed.
“Meeting in ten,” the other secretary greeted her, thrusting a notebook and pen at her, while simultaneously grabbing Angelique’s back-up purse and disappearing behind her desk with it. The woman was older, almost her mother’s age, and as humorless as they came, but she had a sweet spot for Angelique and knew exactly how hard she tried with her mother. She’d been the one to agree to cover for Angelique this morning once Angelique had explained her situation. She was a heaven-sent Godsend and Angelique was ready to plant a big, wet one on her cheek.
“Thank you,” she sighed, instead. Making an abrupt turn, she hurried down the long corridor to the conference room. Mr. Stone liked for her to be there before everyone else, poised and ready, seated in the corner, more a piece of furniture than a human being. At first, the arrangement had bothered her, but more and more she rejoiced in it. She liked to people-watch and these big wigs were exciting fodder.
There was a lot about the way Mr. Stone ran his business that Angelique hadn’t liked in the beginning, but over time had grown used to and even appreciated it for its simplicity and command of effectiveness. He was a man who knew what he wanted, how he wanted it, when he wanted it, and completed by whom. She was a woman who needed someone else to be in charge for a while, someone to take away all her control and just let her be.
Perhaps that’s why their work relationship had quickly morphed into boss-employee with benefits. He needed the dominance, she needed the submission.
“You made it.” Mr. Stone huffed from his chair at the head of the table as she squeezed through the heavy glass door. Looking up briefly, she caught his steely gaze and nodded.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, I was--”
“No need for explanation. We all have a life outside these walls.” Stopping, she lifted her brows in surprise, her jaw swinging loose in shock. The pen fell to the floor. He had never seemed to care about her life before, never ever talked about his life, even after hours. “Just don’t let it happen again.” Ah, there is was. That was what she expected. The man was all business, all the time.
“Right,” she answered curtly, taking her seat. She tucked her legs under the seat, crossed her ankles, balanced the notebook--open to a clean page--and pen on her lap, hands folded demurely on top. She kept her eyes lowered as the rest of the business men and women entered the conference room soon after, shuffling papers, and sharing inside jokes.
As Mr. Stone cleared his voice to begin, she lifted her head, alert and ready to take notes. The meeting progressed as usual--she scribbled her shorthand as fast as possible throughout--until the end, then a new partner was introduced, welcomed into the fold.
Mr. Adams. Daniel Adams. Angelique studied the man. He was broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, larges hand and feet, sandy-haired, hazel-eyed, with an easy smile, and dimples in his cheeks. Oh, and he had a beard. A tidy bit of scruff, not quite full, but deliciously enticing. It covered his cheeks with a downy fuzz, wrapped under his chin, and filled out a bit above and below his lips. Suddenly, she itched to run her fingers through it, rub her face against it, let it tickle her breasts as his mouth worked over her nipples, scratch the tender skin of her... Oh, dear God. She felt her stomach plummet as she catalogued what she wanted him to do to her and where. Her panties grew damp. She tightened her thighs, trying to ease the blooming ache. With a beard like that… The possibilities were endless!
He was just her type, physically, but the bravado, the oily way he spoke, his insincere laugh and shifty eyes unnerved her. As he introduced himself, she watched him. Her body responded, though her mind wasn’t sure about him. He wasn’t any different from the rest, as cocky and false as her boss. As demanding, too, she guessed. Perhaps even a dominant--he had that way about him--expecting everyone to submit to him immediately. The way he scanned the conference room, he refused to move on until each person cast their gaze down, losing in a staring match they never were going to win. She stifled a low chuckle. Good for a romp in the hay, but that was all.
Appearances deceived--Mr. Adams looked like an easy-going surf bum playing dress-up while Mr. Stone wore the mantle of an ancient Greek god sent down to punish the mortals--yet their behavior set them firmly in the same camp. Tycoon cut-throats. Millionaires. Both of them.
At last, his gaze shifted to hers. He stroked her body with his attitude, at last their hazel eyes meeting. His smile and mannerisms shifted subtly as he held her locked in a challenging stare. Angelique felt her face flush, her mouth open in a silent gasp. She sat straighter, unclenching her thighs, uncrossing her ankles. Her boss had moved away from the head of the table, leaning over another man as they spoke in whispers. She began to spread her legs, ever so slightly. His eyes fell to her opened legs. She knew he could see nothing of importance, but the way he did it, so quick, so purposeful had her whimpering. His eyes darted back to hers. His smile grew, lips pulling back to display his teeth. A threat. A promise.
Shuddering, she yanked her gaze from the new partner. The meeting was breaking up. It was her cue to escape and type up the notes, leaving a copy on her boss’ desk before she left for the night. And, truthfully, she needed space to consider her reaction to Mr. Adams. Her body knew what it wanted. Her brain realized the danger. She needed to get both on the same track.
The day wasn’t getting any better. Angelique arrived at her desk to find a folded piece of paper resting on top, the other secretary’s script handwriting scrawled across the top. Rebecca had called and asked about dinner and her mother’s clothes, as well as when her mom might be able to return to her house--or, even, the state of the house. Damn! Angelique needed to call the fire chief and ask. She’d completely forgotten to call in the morning.
Digging her cell phone from her purse, she surreptitiously looked around her, being sure no one was watching her, then made a run for the stairwell. No one was allowed personal calls during business hours except on break and during lunch. And since Angelique had been so late today, there was a good chance claiming a break would not go over. The stairwell was her only option--hiding between floors so as not to be seen by anyone walking by.
She grabbed the door and yanked it open. As soon as her heel struck the concrete and metal stair, the sound echoed with a sharp crack up and down the closed off space. She cringed, praying no one else was about. So much for being sneaky.
“Rebecca?” she hissed into the phone once the maid had picked up, keeping her voice as low as possible. “Where are you now?”
As Rebecca filled her in, Angelique felt her panic and guilt subside. The message had been far more concerning than the maid had intended. Though not ideal, the day was going fine for them both. Her mother seemed oblivious and happy just to be shopping. She was looking forward to staying at the hotel again, claiming she’d needed a vacation. Angelique laughed as Rebecca relayed her mom’s words. Sounded just like her.
“Well, great. I’ll be back at the hotel tonight. I’ll let her stay over again, then take her back to my apartment in the morning. You available another day?
“Sure. I have a client at 7am. I can be at your place by 8:30. Will that work?”
“Yeah. I can make it here on time--close, but on time.”
“Ok. See you tonight. Do you want me to feed her dinner?”
Angelique thought about it. “No, I’ll bring something on my way--a surprise for her.”
They hung up, the conversation over. And not a second too soon. As Angelique stood from
the stair she’d crouched on, she heard the squeak of the door open. She peeked between the railing, still hidden on the next flight up.
It was the new partner, Mr. Adams. Oh, shit! She cursed low. Fuck it, she was caught. She dug her nails into her palm in self-punishment. Standing, she cursed again. She took a deep breath, readied herself for a reaming, then took a single step.
Her last step.
Angelique felt herself falling, the weightlessness, the fear. She was looking at the ground, the tilted stairs, the underside of the next flight. She heard the crack of bone as she struck. Pain flared across her side, ripping a scream from her throat. Her vision swam, tears threatened, focus impossible. Then, all went black. Blackness and oblivion surrounded her.
Memories of her first day of work flashed through her mind. Time no longer had meaning for her. Everything was sensory. Her body reacted to her mind’s re-play:
Frozen in place, she stared at Mr. Stone. “What?”
“I said ‘unbutton your blouse.’”
“Sir, I don’t--”
“You will do what I ask you to do. You are my secretary, are you not?”
“Yes, sir.” Angelique was shaking. What had she signed on for?
“Perfect. Now, unbutton your blouse.”
Her eyes searched for a way out. The door was locked. She’d locked it herself, at his request when she’d entered. That should have been a clue, she decided. However, it still didn’t help her out now.
“I’m waiting.” His voice had gone lower, a dangerous tone edged his words.
It was now or never. She didn’t have a choice, not really. Raising her hands, her fingers danced over her buttons as she slid them down the length of her blouse. Soon, she was bare. Her pale skin seemed to glow, peeking between the dark crimson of her shirt. Mr. Stone stood. He held her gaze. He dared her, taunted her, and hunted her. He was the lion to her quivering gazelle.
What if he didn’t like her? The random thought struck her as he approached, the back of one hand stroking down her arm.
She looked down, watching the movement of his hand, then back up, staring back at him. She wanted him to like her. She was lucky to find the secretary job, even luckier at the pay she was getting, though considering how the night was going, the thousand extra made a bit more sense. Worrying that if he didn’t like her, he would fire her, she took a deep breath to control her pounding pulse.
It wouldn’t do to cut and run before she knew how he felt.
Lowering her gaze again, she noticed the tenting of his slacks. His cock was hard, half-erect, pushing pleadingly toward her. Nevermind. She knew exactly how he felt. How did she feel? She felt a tingle of excitement, truth be told. She’d never been propositioned before. With only a handful of boyfriends in her past, she had a rather vanilla sex life. Mr. Stone would be different. Angelique knew it in her heart, her soul.
His eyes promised passion, his body orgasms, and the firm line of lips, a bit of pain. It was an exotic cocktail she suddenly craved.
“That’s a good slut.”
Stepping into her space, his hands went to the sides of her blouse. He pulled it apart, displaying her fully to him. He yanked the shirt from her, sliding the silk down her arms. Dropping it to the floor, he embraced her, pulling her in close. She expected him to kiss her. He didn’t. Tucking her head beneath his chin, he peered over her head, his fingers fumbling at her bra. At last, he released the clasp, letting her bra follow her shirt to the floor.
She shivered as the cold air-conditioning in his office brushed across her exposed skin. Her nipples ached, peaked in the chilly air. He moved away. Uncertain of what she was supposed to do, she took a small step after him.
“I didn’t say to move.” Stopping instantly, she exhaled heavily. He returned to his desk, taking his seat, picking up a folder of papers and leafing through it. “You are to remain silent. At all times. You will obey all commands. Follow all directions.” He did not look at her. “You will wear only what I tell you to. If you do not own appropriate items, the company will pay for a new wardrobe.” He ceased fiddling with the papers and folded them back inside the folder, slapping it down on the center of his desk. He lifted his eyes to meet hers. Holding them, he asked, “do you understand?”
She hesitated in answering. Did she? Did she, really? Was she willing? Angelique closed her eyes. She considered the money. Her mother needed care. Without this job, she wouldn’t be able to make ends meet and take care of her mom. They were all they had left, just each other. Opening her eyes, she nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now approach.” Carefully, she did. Once she was within an arm’s length, he stopped her with an open palm. “Sit there, on the corner. Spread your legs and lift your skirt.” Angelique obeyed. This was dirty, sick, kinky and God help her, she was getting wet.
“Show yourself to me.” Flicking a finger at her panties, he glanced between her legs. She eased two fingers under the elastic of her panties--tomorrow she would wear a thong--and pulled the white cotton to the side. She was all natural, her bush wild and untrimmed. Fearing he would be displeased, she cringed as he eyes roamed over her most intimate area.
“You will get a wax. I want a strip of hair only. All else bare. Smooth.” Though displeased at her wild state, he was not angry. She sighed, grateful for that small kindness.
“Yes, sir.” She said it happily.
His gaze flicked up to hers and though she wasn't sure, she thought she noticed the corner of his lips twitch. He returned to her pussy. “Remove your panties.” She did. Scooting back on the desk, she lifted her skirt again, showcasing herself without being asked.
“You are a quick learner,” he commented under his breath and she sat straighter, preening. From secretary to slut in less than an hour. She wanted to laugh. No one would believe her.
“Masturbate, but don’t come. I want to see what gets you hot.”
The momentary high of his praise faded as she froze, shocked. “Sir?”
Mr. Stone grinned at her surprise. “Are you confused by the command?” She shook her head. No, that she understood. She just hadn’t fully realized the extent of his perversion. Like a light switch flicked, his grin turned menacing as she still refused him. “Stick your fingers in your cunt, slut, and work that twat.”
Jumping, she gave in. He scared her even as she felt her body respond to his threatening growl. She eased two fingers inside her pussy to wet them, her juice already ready, sitting heavy within her slit. Pulling them free with a sloppy smack, she slipped those fingers over her clit, slowly caressing the tender and sensitive nub. She closed her eyes as she began to rock over her fingers, driving up the rub of friction.
“Look at me,” he interrupted. She forced her eyes open. Her vision was blurry, but she fought to focus on his face.
With her other hand, she stroked her thighs, outside then inside, over the nearly translucent flesh. She tickled, savoring each whorl of her fingertip as she touched herself. As her fingers inched closer to her slit, she moaned. Her head fell back, the ends of her hair brushing the desk. Then, her fingers touched her slit. She was slick. Caressing the line of her entrance, parting her nether lips with each pass, sweat broke out across her skin.
Angelique quickened her pace. The fingers on her clit blurred as they flicked rapidly back and forth across the tip of the nub. Her nerves screamed, poised to burst. She thrust three fingers roughly inside her sheath. Tapping once against the nerve-dense, spongy walls, her hips bucked and she came close to falling off the desk.
“Oh, God!”
When she came, it was more eruption than crashing wave. Her juice squirted, coating her inner thighs as she clamped her legs together, pressing her hand tight to her clit. Her eyes, still open, rolled back into her skull.
She gasped for air in the silence of the room, waiting for him to speak. Minutes ticked by from a clock on his desk. The scent of her arousal, her juice wafted to her nose. She breathed deep. She loved the odor. Her eyes f
inally focused and she searched his eyes. Did he like it, too?
“Would you like my cock?” His nostrils flared, his lips curling up into a smile.
“Yes, sir!”
She climbed down from her perch on the desk and crawled to the cubby-hole of his desk. Settling on her knees, she thanked God she had passed his test--for that was obviously what it was. Now, horny as hell, she wanted Mr. Stone in her mouth. And in her pussy. Perhaps her ass.
That night, she had gotten home ridiculously late.
She came to, bright lights blinding her with their brilliance as they strobed by above her. Beneath her, wheels rolled, clickety-clack, bump, bump. White shrouded figures moved around her, floating eyes staring at her from all sides. She blinked, opened her mouth, and moaned. With consciousness returned the pain. Her chest felt like it was crushed, a searing agony burning her lungs as she struggled to calm her racing heart with deep breaths. She could only feel one leg, the other a dull throbbing ache. Her arm on the same side was bandaged, immobile, though she felt no pain, no throbbing. Her shoulder, however, was sending shockwaves of nausea-inducing pangs wracking through her muscles.
Swallowing hard over the lump in her throat, she wanted to scream. Rail, fight, and hurt. What the hell had happened and where the hell was she?
One of the floating pairs of eyes noticed she was awake. “Hablo. Hiss. Oww er eww?” A voice, heavily muffled and accented, made absolutely no sense to her addled mind. She shook her head, lost. A hand lifted to pull down the mouth cover. “Sorry, miss, there is a terrible cold spreading through the area. We’re just being careful. How are you?”
“Where am I?”
“General Memorial.”
“What happened?”
He paused before answering. Even upside down, on her back, on a gurney, she could tell he didn’t want to answer. Was she really that bad? “We’ll be to your room shortly. The doctor will meet you there. As well as your brother.”