Taming Her Boss

by C. M. Stunich

  “Why are you bothering me today, Lex?” she asks, not at all afraid to refer to me by my first name – or rather my nickname. I'm aware that most of my employees call me Lex behind my back, but none of them call me that to my face. It's always Mr. Lyndon or even Sir. I purse my lips, but I don't let it bother me. It shouldn't, not if I want Olivia to carry out the rest of the instructions in my contract. If this works out the way I want it to, she'll not only be calling me Lex but whatever she wants. She'll be able to beat me, fuck me, command me as she sees fit. I should start getting used to it now. Luckily for her, I have respect for her tenacity. If I didn't, I wouldn't be trying so hard to get her to accept the position.

  “I want to continue the discussion we started on Saturday night,” I say as she watches the number above the elevator doors climb to twelve. As soon as it gets there, she presses the lobby button again. “I understand and even appreciate your outrage, anger, and frustration with me, but I'd like to give you a chance to read the entire contract in detail, and to hold a question and answer session where we can discuss any issues you might have.”

  Olivia laughs, her voice echoing sharply around the lobby. I hear the footsteps of the security guard as he passes by and pauses to stare at the two of us.

  “Lex,” Olivia begins, touching her fingers to her forehead. I love the way her ruby red hair cascades over her brow in a gentle wave, frothing around her face and tapering away near her shoulders. I've never seen such thick, luscious hair on a woman before. I find myself running my tongue across my lower lip as I bring up the memory of that hair wrapped around my fingers. “Alexander, listen to me. I am nobody's whore,” she whispers, coming so close to me that I almost reach up and touch my fingers to the royal blue of the silk blouse she's got on. I want to rub it between my fingertips and then tear it away, get another glimpse of that peach-pink skin underneath, touch my lips to her throat.

  I feel myself getting hard and take a step back, just to put some space between us. Whatever's happening, Olivia feels it too and blinks several times like she's clearing her head. Chemistry. Hormones. Lust. It's in the air, and it can't be helped. It's a natural, biological impulse. Fighting against this feeling is like fighting against the need to breathe. While Olivia seems content to try, I'd love to give in and see what we could do for each other.

  The elevator doors slide open and Olivia turns away from me, climbing on and pressing the button for our floor before I even get a chance to start forward. I reach out and take hold of the doors, pausing them in their tracks. Like everything else in my life, they obey. I move to stand next to her as she stares straight ahead and pretends I'm not even there.

  “You'll be receiving an email as soon as you set foot in your office; be sure to read it.”

  Olivia tightens her perfect lips. I find my gaze drawn to the shape, the swollen roundness of her lower lip, the gentle curved bow on top.

  I unbutton my suit jacket and take a deep breath, closing my eyes against the sight.

  Olivia shifts uncomfortably next to me. In this enclosed space, I can smell her perfume – a light, citrusy blend that tantalizes and ensnares. The scent mixes with the spicy cinnamon of my cologne, turning this little metal box into a torture chamber for my cock.

  “Let me guess,” she whispers, her voice rough with some sort of emotion. I want to say it's lust, but I can't be sure. “Meeting?”

  “In my office.”

  “Fine.”

  The doors slide open and Olivia storms away, slippers whispering across the blue carpet as she disappears around the corner into her office. I follow after her, straightening my tie and keeping my gaze narrowed ahead of me. Employees scatter out of the way like rats as I sweep past and push open the wooden doors to my office. She's going to actually go in there, read the email, and wait until the precise time that I mentioned. I just know it. Anyone else and they'd have scurried in here, following in my wake, desperate to please me.

  Olivia seems determined to piss me off.

  I perch on the edge of my desk, cross my arms over my chest, and check my watch.

  Exactly seven minutes until the time I specified in the email, the one I sent while we sat back to back in the Chinese restaurant and ignored one another. Well, she ignored me. I was painfully aware of her presence.

  I tap my foot on the carpet, ankles crossed, waiting.

  Seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds later, Olivia knocks on my door.

  “Come in,” I say through gritted teeth. For seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds, I've had an erection stabbing against the inside of my slacks. Not exactly the most comfortable position to maintain.

  “Mr. Lyndon,” Olivia says with a faux smile on her face. “You wanted to see me?” She slides in through the double doors and pauses there with a stack of papers under her arm. I notice that she's traded out the slippers for proper shoes – not heels this time but black loafers. Interesting.

  I smile back at her, and she frowns.

  “Yes, actually,” I say, wishing I had chairs in here, so I could tell her to take a seat. But no. My office is arranged in exactly the same way as my father's – sterile, empty, designed with the express purpose of intimidation. I uncross my ankles and stand up straight, moving around to the other side of my desk. I didn't want to bring the contract here – I never know when my father or grandfather might show up – but I didn't feel like I had much of a choice. After our failed dinner date, I doubt I'll be able to get Olivia's attention outside of the office.

  I pull a key from my pocket and unlock the bottom drawer of my desk, withdrawing the briefcase and rising to my feet.

  “No,” Olivia states, shaking her head. “Haven't you ever heard the phrase no means no, Lex?”

  “Oh, so we're back to using Lex again?” I say as I toss the briefcase on my desk and wish I could do the same with Miss Ashcraft – or even vice versa. I wouldn't mind if she pushed me back onto the gleaming wood surface and rode me like an animal. In fact, I'm praying that she will – as soon as she accepts my contract, of course. “Your false sense of formality faded rather quickly. Are we already done playing games?”

  She grits her teeth at me, face reddening with frustration. She tried to hold back the anger when I first confronted her on Friday, but I can see that her patience with me is wearing thin. Good. When patience fades, so do inhibitions.

  “The only person playing games here is you. Look, I don't know what your angle is, but you'd better back off or a hastily signed NDA won't be enough to save your ass from public humiliation.” I raise my eyebrow and let go of the briefcase, taking a step towards her. Olivia watches me approach and takes a deep breath, relaxing the hand that's hanging by her side until it's no longer balled into a fist.

  “Is that a threat?” I whisper, moving closer, letting our loafers bump toes. Olivia looks down and then up at my face, her own stoic and deceptively peaceful. I can smell the rage brewing behind the sweet scent of her perfume. When she doesn't answer, I reach around her and flick the deadbolt on my door. The last thing I need is for my secretary to come storming in here on some unimportant errand. I won't be interrupted right now, not when I'm so close I can taste it. “Why does the money even matter? You nearly had sex with me against your front door on Friday. Would it really make that much of a difference if I was padding your bank accounts to do so?”

  “It would make all the difference,” Olivia says, keeping her voice calm. She's managed to reign her emotions in for the moment, but I have a feeling that if I push, she'll snap again. My own frustration is bubbling up inside my chest, but I ignore it. If I get angry with her now, she'll simply walk away. Other … tactics are in order. “If I fucked you, it would simply be because I wanted to.”

  “You're in luck then,” I say, reaching into my back pocket and coming up with a condom. “Because this time, I came prepared.” I grab Olivia around the waist and pull her against me, sending her stack of papers fluttering to the floor around us. As I dip my head for a kiss, her hand
comes up and cracks me hard across the cheek.

  To say I'm shocked would be an understatement.

  “Go fuck yourself, Lex,” she growls at me, kneeing me precariously close to the family jewels. The condom drops from my hand as she struggles in my arms and ends up pulling me against her. Our bodies slam into the polished mahogany wood of my office doors, pressing us even closer together – not exactly her intention, I'm sure.

  A moan escapes her throat, a velvety growl that makes the hair on my arms stand straight up.

  I look down at her angry eyes, glimmering like emeralds in the pale softness of her face. The rage shimmering there is at complete odds with the gentle parting of her lips. I don't even pretend to understand her mood or where she's coming from. Obviously, I've completely bungled this situation between us from moment one. I wanted a strong, powerful woman to take control, but maybe the very thing that I so desire is exactly what will keep me from my goal? How could I ever get a woman like this to sign a contract like that?

  I revert back to my usual pattern of domination, intimidation and control. It's all I've ever known.

  “You're an infuriating little twit, Miss Ashcraft,” I growl, trying to extract myself from the tangle of limbs she unwittingly created by trying to kick me in the balls.

  “And you're a misogynistic, self-centered ass hat,” she snaps back at me, placing her palms against my chest and shoving at me with a surprising amount of strength.

  “Ass hat?” I scoff, finally freeing myself from the aura of angry heat that's doing its best to envelop us both. “An insult that showcases not only your lack of education, but also your indescribably conscientious character.”

  Olivia's mouth parts in shock before she narrows her eyes on me and tears one of the black loafers from her feet. The shoe comes flying at my head and just barely manages to miss my face.

  “I went to Yale, you son of a bitch!”

  I grit my teeth and squeeze my hands into fists by my sides.

  “You are fucking fired, Miss Ashcraft,” I snarl, running my tongue over my lips to keep back an angry spray of spittle. There are some things I refuse to inherit from my father. “Get out of my office!”

  Olivia ignores me and bends down, gathering up the scattered spray of papers from the floor.

  “Did you not hear me?” I ask, moving a few steps forward and putting the toe of my shoe atop one of her precious pages. “You are fired.”

  She rises to her feet, unfolding from her crouched position like a fiery haired demon. I hate how turned on I am, but I can't help but think, if she's this angry on the outside, what will she feel like on the inside?

  “You can't fire me,” Olivia snarls, her mouth so close to mine that I can taste the words on her breath. “Because I quit.” She turns away and I follow after, grabbing her by her upper arm with carefully tense fingers.

  “Don't let the door hit you on the way out,” I snap, releasing her and watching as she flicks the deadbolt and disappears from sight, the wood doors of my office swinging in her wake. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself, the scent of her perfume lingering enticingly on my collar.

  After a moment, I turn back towards my desk and grab hold of the briefcase with the contract in it. What was I thinking when I went after this woman? What modern woman in her right mind would sign an agreement like this? Not a single one that I'd be interested in.

  I open the briefcase and pull the papers out, fully prepared to run them through the shredder when Claudia saunters into my office wearing red heels and a scandalously short skirt. I barely pay her a glance over my shoulder, turning back to the contract and staring at Olivia's name printed across the top. My chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths as I try desperately to regain some self-control. I've never had this problem before; self-control is something that a Lyndon is born with. It runs in his veins like blood. It is absolutely essential to our survival as both a company and a family.

  “One of your employees just went limping by with only one shoe on,” she says, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my arm. I glance over at her and she startles when she sees the expression on my face. Claudia immediately withdraws her hand and takes a step back. It'd be so easy to fuck her right now. Hell, I wouldn't have to hit on her. I could tell her to bend over this desk and lift her skirt, and she'd do it. Willingly. With a fucking smile on her face.

  “Get out of my office, and don't come in without knocking. The next time you do, you're fired.”

  Claudia blinks stupidly at me for a moment before retreating, stepping over the scattered papers and closing the doors behind her. I scowl and shake my head, moving around to sit in my office chair before I glance back down at the contract again. Just thinking about Olivia is enough to keep my cock hard enough to cut diamond.

  I unzip my slacks, close my eyes, and lean my head back, sliding my fingers down my shaft, letting my breath spill from my lips in a rush. Oh yes. Anger is a powerful aphrodisiac, and I surrender to it the way I wish I could surrender to Olivia. Perhaps it isn't in me? I want to give myself up, let her take control of me, but even if she agreed, I find that my reaction to her alpha female is to stay an alpha male. Oh well. In my imagination, at least, I can pretend that Olivia is straddling me in my office chair, her head thrown back, that vibrant hair spilling down the darkness of her suit jacket. In my mind's eye, I see her throat work as she swallows back a moan, tries desperately to pretend that our interactions mean nothing to her. I don't say a word, letting her rock her hips against my cock, take her pleasure, use me until she's satisfied.

  “Olivia,” I whisper, squeezing my hand around my dick hard enough to hurt.

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” she snaps, her lips red rouged and parted in my dream. But not talking. In my imagination, Olivia Ashcraft hasn't said a word. Which means …

  My gaze snaps open to find her standing before me, emerald eyes sharp with anger, lips twisted to the side in disgust. She has her discarded loafer in one hand and a sardonic expression on her face that sends the fires of fury burning in me again.

  “Don't you people know how to KNOCK?!” I roar, exploding from my chair in a ball of fury. I grab Olivia by the arm and push her back, knocking her legs against my desk. I don't squeeze hard, gritting my teeth to keep my temper in check. The last thing I need is a bruised former employee, last seen limping from my office – especially one who now knows a secret not a single other person on this earth is privy to.

  “I had to get my shoe,” she growls back at me, shaking her arm from my grip. “I'm going to need it for my upcoming job interviews.” She pauses, her gaze drawing downward. Neither of us misses the fact that my erect cock is caught between us. “Unless you want to, you know, keep it as a souvenir.”

  “Get out of my office,” I snarl, precariously close to flipping her over this desk and fucking her until she screams my name. She'd like it, too. We both would. Olivia shakes her head like she's disappointed in me and turns away, unwittingly brushing her body against my rigid cock. A shudder runs through me, but I make no move to go after her. The air between us is poisoned now, and there's no salvaging it.

  I tuck myself back into my slacks and watch as Olivia Olsen Ashcraft walks through my office doors and out of my life forever.

  “That arrogant piece of shit!” I shout, pacing back and forth in my living room. My blistered feet are absolutely killing me, but I can't seem to sit still for more than a moment before the rage takes over and I start to quiver. Fight or flight has kicked in and all I want to do with Lex Lyndon is fight, fight, fight. I snatch the wine bottle off my coffee table, clutching it by the neck and completely ignoring the glass I set down beside it.

  “You might have to start from the beginning again,” Maxi says, adjusting herself on my couch and watching as I lift the bottle of wine to my lips. If some of the liquid dribbles down my chin and trails across my chest, my friend doesn't say anything, clearing her throat and watching me carefully. “Lex wanted to �
�� pay you to have sex with him?” she clarifies for the third or fourth time this evening. Not that I blame her, of course, since the entire story sounded so fucking preposterous spewing from my lips that I hardly believed it myself. My first instinct when I walked out of that office – the second time anyway – was to call the moms and declare war on Alexander Lyndon. Fortunately, Maxi intercepted my path towards the elevator doors and managed to calm me down enough that I held off on calling my parents. The second they hear the story – the full story – they're going to freak the fuck out. Oh, and whoop my ass for signing an NDA. And then breaking it.

  “Ahh.” I grab my head with the hand that's not clutching the wine bottle for dear life and groan before sinking to my knees on the white carpet. I lift the precious alcohol to my lips for another swig. “I'm thirty years old and the best thing I can come up with to punish Alexander is to call my moms.”

  Maxi rises from her seat on the couch and flops down on the ground next to me, trying and failing to pry the wine bottle from my fingers. She finally settles for grabbing my wrist and forcing me to pour her another glass.

  “To be fair, they can be pretty intimidating.” Maxi stares down at the empty span of carpet between us and lets her eyes glaze over with thoughts of Carol and June – most likely she's thinking of that time when we were in tenth grade health and the teacher started us on an abstinence only program. Dear God, the shit storm that ensued when June happened to glance down at my health homework was legendary. The memory's actually enough to further convince me that I should keep the rest of my interactions with Alexander Lyndon to myself.