by Skye Warren
I try everything within my power to hide the effect he has on me and lower my eyes, while my cheeks are burning with heat.
"No, sure, I'm fine." I mumble, turning back to my desk to put the scissors away.
"I'm glad to see you're here," Mr. Stark adds, catching my attention.
I turn back to him and am once again met with those piercing gray eyes. Tonight they truly are gray, and I wonder how I could ever see a hint of green in them.
"You asked me to," I remind him, sounding more reproachful than intended. "I'm almost done with the files and was just about to-"
"It's okay," he interrupts me. He doesn't even have to raise his voice to stop me from speaking.
"I'm actually here to tell you that you can call it a day," he says.
I tilt my head to the side, pursing my lips. He came all the way here to tell me to go home?
"That's why you're here?" I ask. "To tell me to go home?"
He shakes his head.
"No, I'm not telling you to go home," he clarifies. "I'm just telling you to stop working."
What does he mean?
I glance around my tiny office as if I was looking for answers on the walls. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
He watches me without saying a word, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was flirting with me. Obviously, he can't be. He's my boss, he's way out of my league, I'm no one—and I must look terrible. I've spent all day at the office and in addition to speaking to myself I have another weird habit of ruffling through my hair while I'm working. In combination with my used up makeup and the tired eyes, I must look like a scarecrow, while he looks just... perfect.
"I-I-I just have very little to finish this up and-" I stutter, but he shakes his head and causes me to shut up.
"It's Christmas Eve," he reminds me. "It was wrong of me to ask you to stay late tonight to begin with. You should be doing something more enjoyable."
I lower my eyes.
"I told you, I could really need the money," I say. "And I won't be able to see my family before tomorrow anyway. I have nowhere to be tonight."
Oh my God, that sounds so freaking pathetic. What the hell am I thinking, telling him this? Besides, he knows all of it. I rambled on about all of this before, which is why we made the deal of me working late tonight in the first place.
But why is he here now? It's close to 7:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Even for someone like him, this is not the time to be at work.
"Neither do I," he says, answering my unspoken question.
I lift my eyes up to his, furling my eyebrows with disbelief.
“I have nowhere to be either,” he clarifies, reciprocating my gaze with a smile that is hard to read. "Is that so hard to believe?"
I nod. "To be honest, yes, it is."
He chuckles and shakes his head.
"For my family, Christmas has always been more of a business meeting than anything else," he explains. "I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything."
"So, you decided to come back to work?" I ask, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Was that the most enjoyable thing you could think of?"
Mr. Stark looks at me, his gray eyes fixating on mine, holding me in place while he slowly approaches me. I instinctively want to retreat, but for some reason, I don't.
What is happening here? Why is he looking at me like this?
He stops when he's standing right in front of me, so close that I can feel the warmth of his body and smell his familiar eau de cologne.
"No," he says. "I could think of more enjoyable things to do, but if you don't mind, I'd like for you to join me."
I'm dumbfounded when he lifts his hand and starts to caress my left cheek with the tip of his finger. He's barely touching me, but the sheer promise of his touch send electric sparks through my body. It's been too long since a man has looked at me like this, let alone touched me like this.
And it's never been a man like him before.
"Join you?" I breathe. My voice is so faint that even I can barely hear myself speaking.
He nods.
"Yes, Miss Young," he says. "I must admit, I've had my eyes on you for quite some time now."
"Me?" I blurt out.
"Yes, you," he confirms. "I don't know why that surprises you. Have you never looked at yourself?"
I furl my eyebrows. Is he toying with me? Is this some kind of test?
Am I about to lose my job?
He seems to see all of my concerns written across my face without me needing to voice them.
"You can trust me," he says. "I'm just a man under a woman's spell, asking if she'd allow me to change her Christmas Eve for the better."
He leans forward, suggesting a kiss that he doesn't execute. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my skin. I'm drawn to him and find myself leaning forward, closing in on his marvelous lips, but not daring to seal the kiss unless he closes the distance between us.
"How?" I ask, my voice hardly more than a breath.
Instead of speaking, he chooses a different approach to answer my question and presses his lips on mine, claiming me with a kiss that has no equal.
Chapter 3
Landen
She tastes just as delicious as I imagined. It's obvious that she's innocent, scared, wants to be careful, but is eager and willing. I've noticed the way she looks at me, the way she started to tremble when I laid my eyes on her, her shy gaze when I walked past her.
Sybil Young is the perfect little lamb. Her big, brown eyes clash with her surprisingly light hair and when she's lost in one of her whispered monologues, her eyelashes flutter in that involuntarily seductive way that drives me insane. I've wanted her from the day she was hired, but I couldn't do anything about it until now. I had to feel her out first, get to know her without making any obvious approaches.
I couldn't blatantly flirt with her during office hours, but I could watch her. Our interactions have been strictly professional until this sinful kiss, but even with all that distance and polite conversation between us, I learned all I needed to know about her.
She's single, and she's not used to being looked at the way I look at her. She's not an attention seeker, not a girl who flaunts her assets as much as she could, but a subtle beauty. The most endearing part about her might be the fact that she's not aware of her effect on men like me.
She melts beneath my touch, and while there was a moment of doubt on my part when I first went for it, I'm now more than certain that she wants this—and that she's perfect for me. I invade her mouth with relentless force, letting her know how much I crave her luscious body, and she agrees with every breath as soft moans escape her lips between our hungry kiss.
"Mr. Stark," she breathes in protest, but I briefly break our kiss to give her a look that tells her everything she needs to know in this moment.
She looks back at me with that naive expression I live for, that look on a woman's face when she's confronted with her naughtiest desires and the possibility of those fantasies coming true. Her eyes seem to be pleading for permission, but her moral center is wrestling for control.
I will make her fantasies come alive tonight.
"We shouldn't," she adds, biting her lower lip.
"That's exactly what people say before they finally dare to do something they've been wanting to do for a very long time," I say. "Something forbidden, something sinful, something they know they have to do or the need will drive them mad."
I pause and grab her by the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
"I know, because that's how feel about you, Miss Young," I add, and her brown eyes widen. "I know I'll go mad if I don't get to fuck you tonight, if I don't get to do all the things that I've been thinking about while watching you day in and day out."
"Watching me?" she asks, her voice high with disbelief.
I narrow my eyes. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
The blush that appears on her cheeks is enough of an answer for me. Of co
urse, she noticed. She’s been casting me coy looks in search of confirmation for weeks now, as she was trying to allure me.
“I don’t understand why-”
“You don’t have to understand,” I interrupt her. “Just trust me on this. I have things to show you, things to do to you – and I’m positive you’ll enjoy yourself.”
I lean forward and she flinches when I place a kiss on her exposed neck. Soon, my demeanor will change and gentle teasing will be replaced by rough taking.
But I still need her to say it. I need her to say that she wants this.
“What things?” she asks, her voice breaking at the last syllable.
I travel along her neck, biting and kissing her sensitive skin as she leans her head back, inviting me to go further. But instead of following her silent request, I stop, straightening up and catching her eyes.
“Can you be a good girl for me?” I ask, locking her in place with my intense gaze.
She sighs at the words. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean,” I insist. I can see the sparkle in her eyes, a little flash of understanding. She’s not completely new to this, she knows what I’m talking about and she knows what’s expected of a good girl.
Yet, she may need a little nudge in the right direction. I glance over to her desk, where I spot the paper bag containing the present I gave her for Christmas. Every woman on the floor received a set of expensive beauty care products, a coupon for a spa treatment and some candy – except for Sybil Young.
Just as I expected, she hasn’t opened hers yet. I didn’t think she would, because she’s a good girl and knows that Christmas presents shouldn’t be opened before Christmas. Besides, it’s not like she was expecting to find anything special inside that paper bag.
“Open your present,” I tell her.
She furrows her eyebrows with confusion, unsure what I’m aiming at.
“The present I gave to you today,” I explain. “I want you to open it.”
“Now?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, now.”
I let go of her to give her some leeway to move over to her desk. Sybil casts me a puzzled look, but does as she’s told. She walks over to her desk and peeks inside the bag, throwing another quick glance at me before she reaches inside to produce the first present inside, a small bag of cookies.
“Cookies,” she pipes. “Thank you so much.”
I raise my right eyebrow and beckon her to continue. “There’s more.”
She nods and hastily puts the cookies aside to reach for the second present, a square black jewelry box with a white ribbon around it. She looks at me with a tentative smile as she carefully removes the ribbon and opens the box to look inside. Her eyes widen when she sees what’s inside.
“Do you like it?” I ask, knowing that she’s looking at a leather collar with a little d-ring attached to the front.
She gasps in lieu of a reply. Her chest is heaving rapidly as her breathing accelerates. She’s nervous and scared, but above all excited. She doesn’t have to say anything for me to know.
But I still need to hear the words, and only the right answer to my upcoming question will make this Christmas Eve a night to remember for both of us.
I fixate her through narrow eyes. “Are you ready to play?”
She looks up at me, her lower lip trembling as she nods.
“Yes, Sir.”
Chapter 4
Sybil
His eyes flicker as an intimate understanding becomes apparent between us. For months, I’ve fantasized about this man, wondering whether his hand is as strict in the bedroom as it is in business.
And now I'm about to find out.
I can’t believe this is happening. I must be dreaming.
But I’m wide awake and there’s no doubt about his domineering presence right next to me. He comes closer and takes the collar out of the jewelry box in my hands.
“You understand what this is,” he whispers. It’s not a question, but I still nod a reply.
“I want you to wear this tonight,” he adds. “And when you do, you’ll be under my command, no matter what.”
I nod again.
“You’ll have to obey, and if you don’t…” he says, pausing to lock his eyes on mine before he continues. “There’ll be punishment. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, Sir.”
“Lift your hair up for me,” he says.
I hurry to put the jewelry box away and do as I’m told, gathering my hair at the back of my head so that he can put the collar around my neck. It fits perfectly and when I hear the clicking sound as he locks it, I almost let out a contented sigh.
“There’s only one word that will get you out of this commitment,” he announces.
“A safe word?” I assume.
He nods, smiling at me. “Exactly. Do you want to pick one?”
I contemplate for a moment. There are a few standard words that I’ve used before when engaging in this kind of play, but none of them seem suitable for tonight. My eyes wander, focusing on the scene outside the window, and that’s when the idea presents itself.
“Snow,” I say, now looking back at him.
A smile appears on Mr. Stark’s handsome face. “Interesting choice.”
I take that as a compliment and reciprocate his smile with an expectant look. What now? Are we going to do this here? In the office? I can’t imagine that’s what he has in mind. But where would he take me?
Nowhere for now, it seems.
His expression changes to a sinister gaze that both frightens and excites me.
“Take off your pantyhose and your panties,” he commands.
I gasp. “Here?”
“Yes, here,” he confirms, raising one eyebrow as a warning.
I hesitate. Suddenly, this has become awkward again. I didn’t expect him to start right away, here, in my office. Aren’t there security cameras everywhere?
I find myself glancing around to confirm my suspicion, but he stops me by stepping closer and grabbing me by the shoulders. His grip is strong and controlling, but not painful.
“Trust me,” he says, fixating me with his eyes. “And obey. Take off your pantyhose and panties – or do you want me to do it?”
I cast him a determined look and reach for the zipper on the back of my skirt.
But he shakes his head.
“No, the skirt stays on, Miss Young,” he warns. “Just everything underneath.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding with understanding.
I’m wearing a tight-fitting pencil skirt that ends just above my knee. It’ll be impossible to take off my pantyhose without looking completely ridiculous, and of course, his eyes are locked on me as he steps back to watch me undress myself.
My face burns with fiery shame as I reach beneath my skirt and wiggle myself out of my pantyhose and my panties as elegantly as possible. He hums with approval when my skirt slides up, revealing a part of my body I never imagined he would see.
I sigh with relief when I get the pantyhose along with my g-string down to my knees, thinking that the hardest part is over now.
But we’ve only just begun.
I get out of the pantyhose and put them aside, fixing my skirt as I look back at him, shyly asking for praise.
“Good girl,” he says, and my heart jumps at his words. “Give me those.”
He reaches his hand out and nods toward my black g-string that’s lying on the floor, next to my feet. I pick it up and give it to him, watching as he puts my underwear in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“They're mine now,” he announces, and I’m too dumbfounded to reply.
Mr. Stark comes closer to me, placing one hand on my hip while the other is at the back of my head again. He claims another kiss, and this one is even hotter and more demanding than the previous one. His hand wanders along the side of my body, caressing over the fabric of my skirt on my curvy behind and I tremble at the knowledge that I’m naked underne
ath.
My center throbs with need for him while his tongue intertwines with mine, giving me an idea of his skills in that department.
“You’re a hungry little minx,” he remarks when he breaks our kiss.
I blush again and realize that I’d been rubbing my body against his like a bitch in heat while we were kissing. He’s so muscular underneath those layers of fine fabric. I want to touch him, undress him, but something tells me that I wouldn't be allowed.
His hands are still on my body, now traveling along both sides, cupping my breasts and finding my nipples through the fabric of my blouse. Even with my bra and blouse in the way, he manages to bring my nubs between his fingers and squeeze them. He’s gentle at first, but when he adds pressure and starts pinching me, I can’t help but gasp in pain.
He smiles and stops immediately.
“Sensitive,” he says. “I like that.”
Something in his words and the way he looks at me is frightening, but also terribly exciting.
“Get down,” he commands next. “On all fours.”
While a voice in my head wants to object to his demand, my body has other ideas and appears to act on its own as I follow his command. I lower myself to the floor, getting down on my knees first while our eyes remain fixated on each other. His face is stern while he watches me follow his command, and he nods approvingly when I place my hands on the floor, now kneeling on all fours in front of him.
“Good girl,” he repeats his praise from earlier.
I hear him rummaging around in his pockets, but don’t dare to look up to see what he’s doing.
“Look at me,” he commands, as he kneels in front of me.
I tilt my head and am met with his handsome face – and a leash in his hands.
“We’re not doing this here,” he says. “I will bring you to a more suitable place. But you’ll have to be a good girl to get there. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply. The words come automatically, I don’t have any control over it. I’ve been on all fours in front of a man before, but I’ve never worn a collar, let alone a leash to be lead around like a dog, and if you’d asked me before this, I probably would have rejected the idea wholeheartedly.