by Tia Siren
I was so worked up from the kiss that I didn’t feel comfortable going home. The throbbing between my legs and the way my cheeks were flushed would surely make my dad wonder, and I wasn’t about to try to make excuses as my mind wondered about the sexual proclivities of my boss. Instead, I found myself parking outside a local bar and sliding into a darkened booth in the corner so I could try to clear my head. I ordered a glass of wine, told the waiter to keep them coming, then sank back into the worn-out cushion and closed my eyes.
It was like he wanted to own me, possess me. It was as if he was intentionally trying to heat my blood just to see what my body would do. My panties were soaked, and my clit was throbbing. Part of me wanted to shove my hand up my skirt right there in the booth just to take care of my problem.
I wondered if he would enjoy that if he were here with me.
I knew I shouldn’t fuck my boss. It was a nice little fantasy, especially given the fact that he had permeated my dreams, but now I was really considering it. If he was like that just with kissing, I couldn’t imagine the things he could with my body. To my body.
Because of my body.
That was how a man treated a woman. That was how a woman was supposed to feel. Even with the anger in his eyes and the slightly painful force of his kiss, I hadn’t felt taken advantage of. I hadn’t felt unsafe. I had felt beautiful pressed against that glass. I had felt erotic with his hips pressed into mine.
But I couldn’t. As much as I wanted to and as much as my body gave way to his, I couldn’t do that to my father. My dad and I had a shit relationship, but one thing he had never attempted to do was sabotage me. Never once did he try to fuck up my college degree, and never once did he try to change my mind once he did finally figure out what the fuck I was majoring in. I wasn’t going to screw up his job just because I thought my boss was fucking sexy as hell.
I was wild, but I wasn’t stupid.
“Well, hello there.”
A low voice ripped me from my trance, and I turned my head. A man came into view, one hand in his pocket while his other fingers curled around a clear glass of something akin to scotch. His dark brown eyes danced along my body, and his shaved head glistened in the poor lighting of the corner. I knew exactly what he’d come over here for.
“Hello,” I said, lifting my glass of wine to my lips.
“Ah, a red-wine woman, I see,” he said. “Hard day at work?”
“Oh, the hardest,” I said, grinning.
“For you or your boss?” he asked, winking.
“Why can’t it be for both?” I asked.
He smirked around his glass before he took another long pull of his drink. He sat down without being prompted to do so, then flagged the waiter for my booth down.
“Put her drinks on my tab and switch my order to here, please. Maybe the beautiful lady might like a bite of food.”
His shoulders were slender and his arms were lanky. Underneath that suit was nothing but the body of an overgrown teenage boy, but he talked a good game. His leg slid underneath the table, and his foot sat against mine. The more we talked, the farther his toe inched up my leg, and soon his smirk had grown into a full-blown smile.
“He made you alphabetize his books?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “I suppose he was upset because he thought I was an idiot.”
“See, oblivious men always do that.”
“Do what?” I asked innocently.
“Always assume a striking woman like yourself is automatically dumb,” he said. “You know, relying on her looks to get through life? They never stop to think that a woman like yourself not only has a beautiful body to spread for a man, but a mind that can rival his.”
“And you somehow pinpointed this about me from across the room?”
“A woman like you can be intimidating, especially considering how smart you appear.”
“I appear?” I asked.
“Let me ask you this,” he said as he leaned forward. “Do you try to keep people oblivious to your intelligence?”
“I suppose it depends on the impression I’m attempting to give,” I said. “If I want to come off as intelligent right off the bat, then no. However, if I’d rather entice with my good looks to see if I could get a bit more than simple conversation, then I might lead with something a little more…primal.”
“And manipulative,” the man said. “What talent. Tell me, does a beautiful woman like yourself enjoy a rousing game of pool?”
“A woman like myself has never played pool.”
“Would you care to learn?” he asked.
We downed the rest of our drinks before he offered me his hand. I took it, and he led us to another part of the bar where there was an empty pool table waiting just for us. I could think of a few other things we could do on this table besides knock some balls around, but the moment he handed me a stick and positioned himself behind me, I smirked. I knew the game he was about to play, and as far as college men’s tactics went, this was their favorite. He was a few years older than me. That much I knew for sure, but the confidence he portrayed at the table convinced me to give him a go. One hand settled onto my hip while the other helped me line up the shot. All the while, he slowly ground his hips into my ass.
But surprisingly, I found myself not returning the gesture.
Each time I sank a ball in a hole with his help, his lips grazed the shell of my ear. He was teasing me, trying to draw from me the wild woman he apparently saw sitting in that booth. Another drink for each of us was set next to the table, and I was all too anxious to grab the glass of wine and throw it back. Even with the man pressing his cock deep into my clothed ass, I couldn’t help but compare him to Grant. His cock wasn’t as thick as Grant’s, and his hands weren’t as soft. His movements were a bit more rigid, as if the confident man at the booth was suddenly unsure of himself.
He was waiting for me to respond, to see if I would wiggle my hips or moan in pleasure. But Grant hadn’t done any of that. He took what he wanted in order to teach me a lesson, and in the process, he taught himself a lesson as well. But that lesson didn’t make him stop.
If anything, it made him more determined to make sure I got the picture, and I shivered at the thought.
“There she is,” the man murmured in my ear.
I straightened up and handed him the stick before I grabbed my glass of wine. I chugged it as he watched me with amusement, and as I set my glass down, he wrapped his arm around my waist. He pulled me into a kiss, his lips smothering mine as the taste of scotch flooded my mouth, and suddenly, I was painfully aware of what was going on. I slid my hands up his chest, slowly pushing him away from me. Then I flicked my gaze up to his before giving him a cheeky smile.
“Thank you for the lesson, but I better get on home. Long day tomorrow and everything.”
“Takes beauty rest to organize all those books, I presume,” he said, grinning. “Are you sure you don’t want to wrap up the game? Only a couple more balls need to find their homes.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are more than a couple you’d like to sink tonight,” I said as I nodded to his crotch. “But a working woman needs her rest if her intelligence is going to work like her good looks do.”
“And good looks you do have,” he said.
I even found myself comparing his banter to Grant’s, and it just didn’t measure up. I knew I’d crossed a line, however, when I went to retrieve my purse from the booth and found the man behind me again. His body was pressed against mine, and his lips traveled down my neck, and the only thing I could think about was how Grant’s were softer. This man’s fish lips were chapped and rough, but Grant’s had been soft and pillowy. Forceful, but not selfish. Fiery, but not threatening.
The way this man gripped my hips, however, was threatening.
“Back off,” I said as I shoved the man off.
The look he gave me was nothing short of predatory, and I backtracked as quickly as I could out of the bar and headed to my car. My bo
ss had imprinted upon me sexually—more than I’d realized—and I found myself short of breath as I clamored into my car. In any other world and at any other moment, I would’ve dragged that man to the bathroom. I would’ve teased that baby boy cock of his until he poured into my mouth. Then I would’ve left him wanting more as my red lipstick stained the protruding veins of his immature cock.
But now, as I backed out of the parking space and sped home, all I could think about were my lips wrapped around the thick monster of a cock I had seen outlined by the pants of my boss today.
Shit. I was in a great deal of trouble with this job.
Chapter 9
Grant
Ever since our encounter, it seemed Crissy had learned her lesson. The past couple days had presented a more subdued Crissy, but I had to admit I missed the flirting. She kept me on my toes in a way no female had in quite some time, but the sobering thought of her age forced me to cast those thoughts out just as quickly as they entered my head.
Crissy was working hard, getting things right. My schedule was impeccable and organized, my books were alphabetized, and my calls were always fielded. I didn’t take on any unnecessary drama since she stopped everyone at her desk before they entered, and not once did any of the junior executives come to bother her in the process.
Not only that, but she kept showing me little tidbits here and there of her intelligence. The ability she had to remember things around her was astounding, and there were times I wondered if she could recall things like that if she read them, too. She would also slip little pieces of advice into conversations. Well, not really advice, but she’d juxtapose ideas of mine with ideas of her own. They weren’t all good ideas. After all, she was only twenty-two and fresh out of college. But it showed that her gears were constantly turning and that she was always willing to learn.
That, I could work with.
She had a passion within her that she kept buried. That much was for certain. Why, I honestly wasn’t sure. It probably had a bit to do with her home life and the dynamic between her and her stepmother, but that wasn’t any of my business. I wasn’t her therapist. I was her boss, her mentor. By the time I was done with her, not only would I offer her a fulltime position working here, but I’d open doors for her she never would’ve dreamed she’d encounter in all the years she had lived.
If she listened, of course.
There was more to her than simply flirting and living off daddy’s money, and that was expected of her. All of this was. Buckling down, working hard, learning the job, and taking on advice when it was given to her—it was all par for the course.
Her work outfits were more appropriate now. She’d traded in her tight-ass pencil skirts for more conservative work pants. Her blouses for work didn’t have buttons that could be teased open by her beautiful tits, but the curves she hid underneath those clothes couldn’t stay hidden forever. I still caught myself glancing at her ass whenever she walked away. Sometimes my eyes fell to her breasts whenever she was reading something off a piece of paper. Crissy Marks was a beautiful young woman, and there were moments when that kiss clouded my mind.
I knew it did the same for her, because I’d see her watching my lips. I’d see her studying my body when she thought I was simply looking out the window. Her tits would grow hard, pressing those beautiful barbells against her shirt.
And holy fuck, it made me hard as stone.
This afternoon was spent prepping for a massive meeting on Monday. Potential investors were gathering, and not just to talk about the potential acquisition before I sent off the offer. They were also investors in a fund I managed that needed to be addressed. The fund had grown exponentially since we’d expanded up the East Coast, but with a massive growth spurt usually came a couple quarters where it stagnated.
I needed to prepare them for that stagnation.
I gave Crissy the task of organizing the meeting files. They needed to be in a specific order so they could be easily grabbed Monday morning, but I was too busy readying a PowerPoint. She’d had her headphones in all afternoon, bobbing those thick hips to the beat while her tits bounced against her body. I told her the folders needed to be filed chronologically and then grouped by location. That was how I had them all sitting around the table, and it would make it the easiest to grab the files before I handed them out.
I watched her at her desk, leaning over everything while she swayed her hips. Her shoulders were broad and focused, holding up her weight as her tits dangled over her desk. I was salivating, my eyes running over every bump and divot her body had to offer. I was an hour behind on the PowerPoint because she kept distracting me with her movements, and suddenly, I was rising from my chair.
It was like her body was magnetized, drawing me in even as I tried to resist. I kept repeating her age, repeating that her father was my best friend. I kept telling myself that this was nuts, that I couldn’t possibly be feeling this way for another woman.
Not after what happened to my wife.
But as I drew nearer, I eyed the stacks. Everything was out of order and nothing was grouped by location. This woman had been dancing around out here like a maniac while working, and she hadn’t done a damn thing I’d asked her to do. She was alphabetizing them by name, sloppily stacking them on the corner of her desk, and losing herself in her music. Hours had been wasted by her. Hours she couldn’t get back.
That I couldn’t get back.
I yanked the ear buds from her ears, and she shot up to meet my stare. At first her eyes were full of fire. They wondered who the fuck had had the audacity to come over and rip her music out of her ears. But the moment she looked up at me, she backed down.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
“The files, Mr. Jacobs. I’m organizing them.”
“No, you’re not. You’re alphabetizing them.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” she asked.
“No, Miss Marks. That’s nowhere near what I asked of you. Don’t you ever listen? Don’t you ever open those ears of yours and just take in what people are saying around you?”
“Mr. Jacobs, how did you want—”
“I wanted them organized chronologically. You know, by date. Do you know what that means? Then I needed these files grouped by location.”
“But the files have names on them,” she said.
“I don’t give a damn if the files have blood on them, Miss Marks. You use that little vault of yours that stores all your little tricks and put it to good use when I give you instructions. Are we clear?”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jacobs.”
“Sorry doesn’t get back the time I’m going to have to spend helping you correct this mistake. This meeting is on Monday. If I can’t trust you with it the first time, I’ve got no choice but to hover over you and help you do it.”
Tears lined her eyes, but I was too angry to care. For a woman who could rattle off to me an entire ten-minute conversation verbatim, there was absolutely no reason for this. She knew what she was supposed to be doing, and she had blatantly ignored it, probably because she thought she could do better.
“Here, let me show you.” I grabbed a folder as her watery eyes panned over to the desk. I flipped it open and pointed to the date in the top right-hand corner, then began explaining to her what that meant.
“This is the date the paperwork in this folder was originally filed. Those are the dates I wanted organized. But that’s not the piece of information you start with.”
“Okay,” she said.
“See the location in the upper left-hand corner?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what you start with,” I said. “The names don’t mean anything. I mean, they do, but not for the purpose I’m using them for with the meeting. Group them in their piles by location, then organize them by date. That’s the easiest way to do this.”
“But, that doesn’t make any sense, Mr. Jacobs.”
“And why not?” I asked.
“
Well, these files are all investment exchanges and funds that have been given to you to use at your discretion, correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Aren’t the investors also going to want copies of these? Of the individual amounts they originally gave to you to compare to their lists and accounts to make sure everything’s in order?”
“It’s their responsibility to keep up with that paperwork,” I said. “They each get a copy when these files are signed and witnessed.”
“Well, I was organizing them by name before I made copies. I was going to do the original organizing like you asked after I made copies and split them up by name. You know, in case someone couldn’t find paperwork. Then you wouldn’t look like a liar or anything.”
She said the last part so quietly, I almost didn’t hear her. The entire time she had been talking to me, she hadn’t once raised her voice. She was being uncharacteristically quiet, and she wasn’t allowing her eyes to meet my gaze. What started out as me chastising her before I showed her how it was done had turned into yet another moment where she had thought about something I hadn’t.
“That was a really good idea,” I said. “Thank you, Crissy.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was shaky, and a tear dropped down onto the paper beneath us. It was well past five and everyone had already gone home for the weekend. Alex was probably wondering where the hell his daughter was, but I couldn’t send her home like this. In another world or with another company, her initiative would have been favored. It would’ve been seen as a good idea in any other circumstances.
With any other company.
With any other CEO.
“Don’t be sorry, Crissy,” I said. “Just focus. You get these ideas into your head, and they’re good ideas, but they end up replacing the original order given to you. Every business owner and CEO once had to take orders, and they had to take them well. Focus on the original task, don’t drop the details, and never be afraid to make your voice heard. Don’t just change things because you think it’s a good idea. Voice it first.”