by Jo Raven
“Kira Golden.”
A shiver courses through me as he says my name. I love the way it rolls off his tongue, the strong masculine sound of his voice. I can picture his perfect lips moaning it. And as my vision keeps getting distracted by his now half-erect cock, I can picture my lips bringing him back to life.
“Well, Kira Golden.” His eyes leave mine for the first time since the other girl departed, though only to glance at my breasts. I silently curse myself for unbuttoning my shirt. It's fuel for his erection. Then again, maybe that's not a bad thing, especially if he plans to use it on me later. “The receptionist I have now is a stand-in from a temporary agency. She must have gotten you mixed up with the Kira who was supposed to come give me a massage.”
“Oh. Well. That's quite all right. Mistakes happen.” I laugh stupidly. My nervousness is finally shining through full force. Now that we're alone together again, I can't tell if I want him to kick me out of the room or fuck me senseless.
“I don't believe in coincidences.” He finally hops down from the table, his cock bobbing between his legs. My eyes zero in on it, and I'm amazed by the sheer size of him. I've been with quite a few men, but none as big as he is. He knows he's hung. He knows he's hot. And he probably also knows it's driving me crazy.
“Are coincidences the same thing as mistakes?” I sound like an idiot, but I just can't stop myself. I'm so distracted.
“You do know that my face is up here.” He points to his eyes, and my cheeks turn a blazing shade of red.
“I'm sorry,” I stutter, taking a step back to give him more room.
“You're acting like you've never seen a naked man before.”
I have. Many and more. None like him though.
It takes me a moment to swallow my embarrassment and regain my composure. “Mister Bernier, was it? Would you like for me to leave?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You came here for an interview, didn't you? I'm going to interview you.”
“Do you usually interview people naked?” It's taking everything in me to keep my eyes fixed on his face, but now that he's called me out on looking at his dick, it seems to be a lot easier.
“No. This is a special case.” The side of his lip quirks into an amused smirk. “You do still want an interview, right? I can only assume you didn't come here just to leave.”
There's a strange sense of arrogance in his tone, like he knows I won't run away. Like he knows I actually enjoy being in the room with him like this. Nothing this exciting has happened to me in a long time. And I certainly can't complain about the view.
“I would like an interview.” I nod.
“What do you know about my company?” He crosses his arms over his chest, as if everything that's going on is completely normal. This is so far from normal. How can he act like we're sitting at a desk across from each other when he's standing there naked and erect, and I'm only a few feet away feeling hot and bothered?
My mind blanks, and then I groan internally. I hadn't even bothered researching the company since I never expected to get the job in the first place. “I know you need a new receptionist.” Really, Kira? Is that the best you can do?
He lets out a short laugh, “You don't know anything about my company at all, do you?”
My jaw tenses as I shake my head. There's no getting around it. “No. I don't.”
“My name is Parker Bernier,” he says proudly, as if the name should hold some meaning to me.
“Parker Bernier.” I repeat it back slowly, searching my memory for any mention of it. None. It's about as telling as John Doe.
He looks at me expectantly for a moment, then his smirk fades. “You've never heard of me?”
“No.” It sounded more like a question than an answer. Should I have heard of him? I don't exactly go around researching businessmen.
“Is this the first job interview you've ever been to?” The sincerity of the question feels like a slap to my face. He must really think I'm stupid. I want to shoot back with the same question. What decent man interviews his potential employees buck naked?
“No,” I reply dryly, not bothering to hide the offense in my tone.
“You should really research the companies you apply to before you go on an interview. It looks highly unprofessional if you can't answer a question as simple as that.”
“Says the man with no pants.” I put my hand on my hip and shift my weight, unable to hold my tongue any longer. Maybe I don't want this job after all. He's being a bit of a dick.
A broad smile races across his face. “To be fair, you weren't supposed to interview with me in the first place. You were supposed to interview with the HR coordinator.”
“Then why are you interviewing me?” I arch an eyebrow. It would have been easy enough for him to send me down the hall or to wherever HR is. But no, he chose to interview me himself. Why?
“Because I think you're exactly what I've been looking for.” His eyes boldly scan up and down my body again before he takes a step closer. My breath stills as he reaches for my hand, picking it up and turning it over to look at my palm. I practically moan as he rubs my fingers. There's just something so sensual about it. Being so close to him isn't helping either. The moment our hands touched, my libido went into overdrive. Now I'm just standing here, helpless and confused and horny out of my mind. “Your hands are soft.” My hand is shaking. I'm so nervous that my body can't contain it. The fact that I can't be still seems only to amuse him more. “Have you ever given a massage before, Miss Golden?”
“A massage?” The words sound like a jumbled mess. I'm so focused on his large hand caressing mine, the way his fingertips trace lightly over the pads of my fingers.
He glances at my face, and our eyes meet. It feels like my heart is in my throat. He's looking down at me with a strange eroticism. I want so much to stand up on tiptoe and kiss his lips. They're slightly parted and oh so delicious. “Yes. A massage,” he repeats slowly as if I don't understand English.
I wish he would back away so my senses can return to me. But he stays firmly rooted in place, giving me that panty-melting look that makes me want to shed my clothes and jump on his cock. I cast a glance downward. He's still erect. How has he managed to stay erect this whole time?
I bite my bottom lip, jerking my eyes up to meet his. If he points out that I'm staring at his dick again, I might die from embarrassment. This has already turned into the most intense interview of my entire life. “I came here to interview for the receptionist position,” I remind him.
“The massage therapist position pays better.” Now he's kneading my palm with his strong fingers. It feels so good that I fear I might melt right in front of him.
“How much better?” My voice sounds too aroused for the situation. I wish I could suck the words back into my mouth and make them come out different.
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?” I gaze into his eyes as a tremor of nervousness rolls down my spine. Did I say something wrong?
“Bite your bottom lip.” He's staring at my lips now, and there's a wanton look on his face that's unmistakable. The air between us is so heavy with desire. Part of me is waiting for him to pounce on me. I want him to so badly.
“Why not?” I take my bottom lip between my teeth again. It's an uncontrollable nervous habit I have.
“Because then I'm going to want to bite it,” he growls, leaning into me. My entire body tenses as I realize he's about to kiss me. I close my eyes and part my lips, waiting with silent gleeful anticipation. This is like a fantasy come to life. What woman wouldn't want to be seduced by an incredibly gorgeous naked man in an office? I wait for impact, but instead of his mouth, the pad of his thumb brushes lightly over my bottom lip. “You're so beautiful, Kira. I'd like to offer you a job.”
“A job.” My eyelids flutter open. While I'm disappointed that he didn't kiss me, the thought that I might get to see him again is promising.
“Mm-hmm.” He nods. “You never answered my question.”
; “What question?” I can't remember anything he's asked me. All I can think about is the way his thumb felt on my bottom lip. I trace my tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin.
“Have you ever given a massage?” He retreats back to the massage table, giving me room to breathe. I inhale deeply, like I haven't taken in oxygen the entire time I've been with him.
“No.” I shake my head. “Well, I mean, I've given some fake ones to my friends and family.”
“Fake ones?” He grins.
“I'm not licensed.” I wrap my arms around myself as if it will protect me from his mocking.
“There's no such thing as a fake massage.”
“I'm not qualified, is what I mean.” I frown at him. He doesn't need to rub it in.
“I don't really care if you're qualified or not.” His serious disposition returns.
“I didn't apply to give massages.” He seems to keep losing sight of that fact. I've never even considered being a massage therapist before. Sure, I'd love to put my hands on his body, but not in that way.
“I'm offering you a better job than the one you applied for.” He grips the side of the massage table with both hands to put more of his weight on it.
Did he just say he's offering me a job? It takes a moment for my mind to snap to that realization. He hasn't even really interviewed me, and he's offering me a job. This is beyond surreal. “How much does it pay?”
“Considering you don't have any experience, I'll start you at ten dollars per hour until I can get you enrolled in classes, which I'll pay for. While you're going to school, I'll pay you twenty dollars an hour. And when you graduate, I'll raise you to forty dollars an hour.”
Forty dollars an hour? There's no way I could ever make that much money without a college degree. And he's offering to pay for my schooling. Suddenly, I wish I had something to lean on to steady myself. This has to be a dream.
“Are you interested?”
Who wouldn't be interested? “What are the hours?” Does it really matter? Forty dollars an hour and free schooling is way more than I'm willing to pass up.
“That's the crux of the offer. It's just part-time. I would only require your services one hour a day, Monday through Friday.” His eyes lock onto my face as he waits for my reaction.
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. They say if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is. This is no different. There's no way I can survive on what he's offering. The fantasy melts away as I shake my head. “I'm afraid that won't be enough. I need a full-time job to pay my rent.” My rent, which is almost due, which my parents are going to have to pay for the second month in a row. This is the last time they're going to let me borrow money from them before they force me to move back home. I have to get a full-time job; I have no choice.
He shifts his weight, realizing he's losing me. “We might be able to work something out. I can probably find somewhere to stick you when you're not servicing me.”
“Where would you stick me?” I have to fight to keep myself from frowning. Just repeating it makes me think of an old broom being put in a closet until it's needed again.
“I would not want you to be my receptionist,” he says boldly, stinging me to the core. Does he think I'm too flaky to be his receptionist? Just because I'm blonde doesn't mean I'm stupid. “You're too beautiful to share with the world.”
I catch myself biting my bottom lip again. What's with him? He's a mixture of sweet and asshole. I'm not sure if I like it or not.
“I'll have to look at your resume and see what you're suited for,” he continues. “So, do you want the job or not?” There's an impatient twinge to his voice, as if he feels I've wasted enough of his time.
“I'd really need to know what else you would have me do first,” I respond timidly. I still have no idea what his company is about. He could sell sex toys, for all I know.
“I'm too busy to pull your resume right now. Come back next week at the same time, and I'll give you a second interview. I'll have a better idea of what you're qualified for then.”
I cringe at the thought of having to wait another week for employment. This is too bizarre anyway. Getting a paycheck is much more important than seeing his gorgeous face again. If something comes up between now and then, I'll take it. It never hurts to keep my options open though. “All right. I'll be here next week.”
“Excellent.” He pushes himself off of the table and goes over to a chair in the corner of the room where his business suit is lying, perfectly folded. I shamelessly watch the muscles of his butt flex while he walks, thinking about how much I'd love to dig my nails into that ass. “I'm a very busy man, so if you'll excuse me while I dress. I'll look forward to seeing you next week.”
And I'll look forward to seeing you too, Mister Naked. I don't bother to respond as I open the door and prepare to slide out.
Before I've reached the other side, he pauses, casting a lazy glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and Kira?”
“Hm?” I give his naked backside one last lingering look.
“Don't be late next time.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Do you know who Parker Bernier is?” I pull off a large chunk of bread from the loaf that's sitting between Yolanda and I.
It's been almost a week since I interviewed at Enkidu Industries. I'd been hoping to get a call back from one of the other companies I've interviewed with, but there haven't been any bites. As of right now, I have exactly one day to research Parker Bernier and his company before I go in for my second interview. Still, I want to see if he's as important as he made himself out to be.
Yolanda is more knowledgeable than I am when it comes to businessmen in the area, so if she's never heard of him before, then I'll know it was just his inflated ego talking. That's how most rich guys are anyway. Their egos are bigger than their penises. Though I'm honestly not sure if that's the case with Parker Bernier. His was pretty big.
“He owns an international medical supply company. What of it?” The casual way she recalls the knowledge makes me frown. Maybe I am completely oblivious.
“How would you know something like that?”
“He's a pretty big deal.” She leans forward and grabs the loaf of bread to tear off her own piece. Her long black hair drags across the table.
“If he's such a big deal, then how come I've never heard of him before?” I dip the bread in the small dish of olive oil in the center of the table before stuffing it in my mouth.
“I'm sure you have. They made a movie about his life a few years back. He's one of the youngest billionaires in the United States. He built Enkidu Industries from the ground up. Came from poverty and became one of the richest guys in this city. It was a very inspiring story. Not to mention he's ridiculously gorgeous.” She rests against the back of her chair, staring across the table at me.
No wonder his ego was big enough to fill the room. I still can't believe I haven't heard of him before if he's such a big deal. “I have an interview with his company on Tuesday.”
“Good on you, Kira. I know you've been looking for a job for a while.” A broad smile lights up her face with genuine happiness for me. She's always been supportive—I guess that's what makes her my best friend. “I hear they have great benefits and a 401K plan. What position did you apply for?”
Missionary. That's the position I want. Missionary with Parker Bernier between my legs. I masturbated furiously to thoughts of it when I got home from the first interview with him. Seeing him naked was wonderfully torturous. I haven't been able to think about anything else since. “Massage therapist,” I reply hesitantly, realizing how strange it sounds.
“Massage therapist? Are you even qualified for that?”
“No.” I shake my head before reaching for more bread. “This is actually my second interview. I originally went in to interview for their receptionist position.”
“How does that happen?”
“I don't even know how to explain it without sounding like I'm lying.” I look up t
o the sky as if the sunshine will help me recompose the story. It's just so ludicrous. How could anyone possibly believe me?
“Oh, this sounds good.” Her voice takes on an interested pitch, and she leans forward.
“So I was running late for my interview. And apparently there was a temp manning the receptionist desk, and she mistook me for someone else and sent me back to Mister Bernier's personal massage room.” I try to recall everything exactly as it happened. It's not hard. The whole scenario has replayed in my mind at least a dozen times.
“Oh, that's quite a mistake. I bet you were confused as all get-out.”
“Confused isn't even the word for it.” I think of how I felt when I opened the door and saw Parker Bernier standing there naked. At the time, he was just some random man. Some random gorgeous, amazingly chiseled, erect man. “When I opened the door, he was in there. And he was buck naked. And he had an erection.” The words shoot out of my mouth as if I'm still trying to soak in the reality of them.
“What?” Yolanda sprays water across the table. Maybe I should have waited until after she took a drink to tell her that. Our bread is completely ruined now. Still, I can't help but laugh. Her reaction was priceless.
“Buck naked,” I repeat, making a silly face afterward for effect.
“You're lying.” It's a playful accusation.
“Nope. Not lying at all. He was just standing there waiting for his massage therapist. The stupid receptionist had sent me to the wrong room since me and the massage therapist both have the same name.” I grab my napkin and help her wipe up the water that made its way to my side of the table.
“What are the odds? Not just that you'd end up in Parker Bernier's personal massage room, but that you'd have the same name as the massage therapist. Your name is so unique.”
It is. I'd only ever met one other person with my name until that day.
“I know.” I crumple up my napkin and set it off to the side.
“So, how big was it?” Yolanda picks up the loaf of bread and rips a chunk off of it. “Was it this big?” She gestures with the larger portion. “Or this big?” She wiggles the small chunk in her hand before sticking it in her mouth.