by Sky Corgan
And then his hands are at his belt buckle. My cheeks flame with all the heat I’m feeling inside. I should tell him to stop—that this has gone on long enough. But a dark part of me yearns to see the rest—to see all of him completely exposed and vulnerable.
Vulnerable? Ha. I doubt Xander Sanderlin has ever felt vulnerable a day in his life. If being naked made him vulnerable, he obviously wouldn’t be undressing for me right now.
His belt makes a zipping sound as it slides out of the belt loops. I wait for him to continue, to see his deft fingers unfastening the buttons at his waistband. My eyes are fixed on his crotch. The bulge is still there—the outline not leaving much to the imagination. Is he even wearing underwear? I wonder. I don’t see them peeking out from beneath his slacks.
His hand pauses at the waist of his pants, his thumb brushing the top gray button there. In the most sensual of motions, his fingers dip further down, crudely outlining his dick as he strokes himself over the thick material. My clit pulses—forbidden desire that I shouldn’t be feeling—and I have to tear my eyes away.
I try to fake disgust, but discomfort is the only thing that reaches my expression. This is an uncomfortable situation, after all. When I finally look at Xan again, he’s smiling.
“Would you like for me to continue, Miss Miller?” He readjusts himself, momentarily dragging my gaze to his hand.
“Of course not.” I fold my arms over my chest, trying to put some kind of invisible barrier between us.
“Then shall I help you get started?”
He’s behind me before I can even think to say no, his hands brushing my hair back over my shoulder. I know I should run for the door, but a dark part of me is curious how far he’ll take this. Surely, a decent human being would stop.
I feel a hand on my throat, fingertips softly petting the flesh there. My heart is thudding so hard I’m afraid it might break through my skin. Can he feel it? I wonder.
His other hand wraps around me, and the collar of my blouse gets momentarily tighter as he works to unclasp the first button. The sound it makes when it comes free is deafening in the silence of the room, though it’s quickly usurped by my unsteady breathing.
“Does it really make you happy to always be the good girl?” Xan whispers into my ear in a low sexy voice as he continues to work his way down the front of my shirt.
I don’t answer because I’m too afraid to speak; more scared that I’d be lying to myself than to him. Of course, there’s a sinful part of me that’s always fantasized about being like other girls. It’s human nature to imagine, in passing, being what we’re not. But that’s just it...I’m not like those other girls; girls that he’s seduced probably hundreds of times before. I can’t be like them.
I place my hands on top of his. “Stop.” They feel so tiny in comparison. It’s a reminder of how he’s taller, broader, stronger. If he wanted to, he could take me against my will. That thought should terrify me...but instead it does something else entirely—makes heat pool below.
“Is that what you really want, Christiana?” He nuzzles the bridge of his nose against my hair. It’s the first sign of affection he’s shown me since I stepped into this house, and against my better judgment, I close my eyes and savor it.
Again, I find myself speechless. A desperate part of me doesn’t want him to stop. I know it’s the right thing to do, though. I want to keep myself whole for the man I’m going to marry someday. It won’t be him. This is wrong.
His hands begin moving again. I suck in as he slides them into my blouse, gripping onto the open sides. For a moment, I think he’s going to molest me. But then he pulls them closed. Relief washes through me as I realize he’s going to start buttoning my blouse again. Then it’s torn away just as quickly as he rips my top open the rest of the way with one firm yank.
Buttons pop and clatter to the floor. My breath hitches and I involuntarily push back into his arms. Xan lets go of my shirt and clutches me tightly against him. For a second I feel every sinful inch of him. Then sense returns to me, and I fight my way out of his grasp, spinning on my heels and backing up against his desk as I run out of space. My hands fly up to cover my exposed bra, and I glare at him.
His expression is full of admiration as he unabashedly looks me up and down. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, Christiana.”
I don’t know what to say to him. Don’t know what I’m feeling. Don’t know if I’m mortified or flattered. Aroused or repulsed. All I do know is that I have to get away from him.
My hands tremble as I desperately try to close my shirt. I fumble for buttons that aren’t there, so shaken that I can’t even process that they’re gone until I look down and see it for myself.
There’s a rustling noise, but I pay no mind to it.
Get out. You have to leave this house.
Warning bells are ringing through my head; sirens like that from the fire station across the street from where I live. Danger. Fire. If you stay here, you’ll burn. He’ll consume you. He’s already proven he has the power to do it.
Frustration at my helplessness wells up. I hadn’t realized that Xan hadn’t made it that far down my blouse before he ripped it the rest of the way. The only buttons left would barely conceal anything.
I glance back at the white lingerie on the desk, though I don’t know why. It’s barely a scrap of material. It would probably offer even less coverage than what’s left of my shirt.
No, I need to go back to my room, put on a new shirt, and leave. Hopefully, I can find another job. Even if Xan tells everyone not to hire me, I could probably still go back and work at the ranch. I left on good terms. The family there loved me like I was their own daughter.
When I finally look in Xan’s direction, all of my thoughts are obliterated as I see him pulling down his boxer briefs. He must have been disrobing the rest of the way while I was busy trying to cover myself. I have half a second to avert my gaze when he’s bending over; plenty of time in the grand scheme of things. But I know I couldn’t force myself even if I tried. And when his underwear hit the floor, and he straightens, and I see him in all of his naked glory, I’m assaulted with a myriad of feelings that are completely foreign to me—things that are both physical and emotional. My mouth dries up. I allow my eyes to fall to where his hand is leisurely stroking his cock. I gulp at the sheer size of it.
Big. Bigger than I thought it would be. Long and veiny and flush with all of the blood making it this imposing size. His arousal. He’s turned on being here with me. And I feel it, too.
Looking at the perfection of his body, which no doubt took countless hours in the gym to create, my nipples tighten, and even them just brushing against my bra sends electricity down below. There’s wetness seeping from me. I can feel it pooling in my panties. And no matter how wrong I know this is, I just can’t take my eyes off of him. No man has ever looked more handsome to me at any moment in my entire life. It’s like I’m looking at everything God ever meant to create in the flesh.
“It’s not that difficult, Christiana.” Xan stops stroking himself and takes a step forward.
I push back against the desk, but there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m trapped, so I just cringe away from him as if I’m afraid he’ll touch me.
“Now,” his voice is oddly gentle. “You can put on the lingerie, or I can put it on for you.”
I close my eyes as he leans into me. Something brushes against my arm. He’s intentionally close, but it takes me a moment to realize that he unintentionally touched me. When I open my eyes again, he’s holding the lingerie up. He must have reached past me to grab it.
“It would please me very much to see you in this.” He pushes the outfit into my hands.
I gingerly take it from him, glancing down. Big mistake. I catch a glimpse of his manhood. It’s practically touching my leg, the helmet thick and pink with a sheen of pre-seed on the tip. My mouth waters as I wonder what he tastes like. Then I chastise myself for the thought, forcing myself to look away.
Thankfully, Xan takes a step back. Oxygen rushes in to fill the space between us, though I feel little safety from the distance.
He smirks at me, walking backward slowly as he speaks. “I’ll tell you what. I’m feeling generous today, Christiana, so I’ll meet you halfway. I’m going to step out of the room and give you five minutes to change. When I come back in, you’ll either be wearing that, or you’ll be fired.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I’M NOT SURE WHAT POSSESSES me to even consider putting on the lingerie. Maybe it’s because Xan didn’t give me a whole lot of time to think about it, and I do want to keep my job. He’s doing this weird push and pull thing. He invades my personal space—makes me think he’s going to do something horrible...but then he backs off. He tests my boundaries but doesn’t overstep them. And for that reason, I wonder how far we can take this before I decide it’s too much and tap out.
There’s an immense amount of comfort in being alone. But I honestly don’t know when Xan’s going to return, so I make haste taking off my clothes and pulling the white camisole over my head.
Once it’s on, I’m surprised that it’s not see-through at all. The white lace is so thick that there’s just a tint of my skin beneath, but nothing is actually exposed. It’s not as long as I’d like it to be, stopping a few inches short of my navel, but it covers a lot more than I thought it would, and for that I’m grateful. The bottoms offer similar protection. They’re not quite shorts but not quite underwear either. Some strange hybrid that makes my legs look longer. If I said I didn’t feel sexy in the outfit, I’d be lying.
While I had thought my changing had consumed the entire five minutes, apparently I was wrong. I stare at my pile of discarded clothes on the floor, wondering why I’m willing to sacrifice so much of my modesty to keep this job. Of course, the monetary aspect is obvious. But deep down inside, I think I’m really staying because I’m curious. This is undoubtedly one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me. Not that my life is particularly full of excitement. Before this, the most interesting thing I can say that’s ever happened to me was watching a man get gunned down on the street. I was just a bystander, a child at my mother’s side while she sold her daily bread. It was a horrifying experience more than anything else. Not like this. Not like this at all.
What’s taking him so long? My eyes dart around the room, looking for a clock. They land on a grandfather clock against one wall. I didn’t check the time when Xan left, but it sure feels like it’s been longer than five minutes.
I gather my clothes from the floor, fold them neatly and set them on the corner of Xan’s desk. Then I check the clock again. Three minutes have passed. He’s definitely late. Does he want me to come out? No. He told me he would be back. I should probably stay put.
I lean back against his desk, briefly thinking about striking a sexy pose. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the vaguest idea of how to be sexy. Besides, I shouldn’t be trying to seduce my boss. Don’t I want him to stay away from me?
Every time I close my eyes, I see him standing before me naked. I see his seductive green eyes. That jawline that goes on for days. Those full kissable lips. His defined Adam’s apple that’s oh so suckable. And down, down, down my thoughts go. Rolling over his broad chest and the valleys of his abdominal muscles and further down to his thick cock. I remember the way my mouth watered when I saw his slick arousal and curse myself for wanting...
Oh my, this room is so hot. I fan myself with my hand. Maybe it’s because my hair is down. I gather it over one shoulder only to fan it out moments later because I think Xan will like it better if it looks flowy. Why do I even care what he thinks? He’s a pervert, and I shouldn’t be trying to please him.
The door opens without warning, and my arms fly to my sides, grasping onto the desk. My knee bends slightly, and I bite my tongue at how awkward I look. Did I really just try to make a sexy pose? Tried and failed miserably. I told myself I wasn’t going to do that. Why did I try to do that?
I don’t have much time to dwell on my embarrassment because it’s taken over by disappointment at the fact that Xan is now wearing pajama pants. He still looks gorgeous, but a greedy part of me would have liked to see his dick again. It’s wrong, but it’s the truth; my boss is very nice to look at.
He grins smugly at me, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I don’t, though. Instead, I just look away. “I’m pleased with your decision.” His gaze lands on my clothes folded neatly on his desk. Then they fall to his on the floor, and he frowns. “Why didn’t you fold mine as well?”
I hug myself, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He hasn’t even commented on the lingerie. Does he not like the way I look in it? “I thought you were coming back for them.”
“Well, that wasn’t the case.” He walks around me casually to go sit at his desk. “Fold them and place them next to yours. Then we’ll get started.”
By get started, I think he means something perverted that I’ll have a hard time handling. It doesn’t. Get started means work. Actual, real work.
It’s like I’m not even wearing the lingerie at all. Like putting it on was just like changing into another high-neck blouse. Like we’re at the office and Xan is in a suit and tie. He takes his time training me on the tasks he wants me to perform. He’s diligent and professional, courteous and kind. I feel like I’m trapped in one of those dreams where everything is normal at first, but then you realize you’re in your underwear. I’m a bit shell-shocked by the entire experience, my mind going wild wondering about his intentions and what this all means.
Most of the tasks are menial, like reading news articles about his stocks and holdings and telling him about any notable updates, checking his mail, and stuffing and licking envelopes. He gives me a small space on the corner of his desk to work, telling me that if everything goes well during my training, then he’ll buy me a desk of my own. It’s then I realize he hasn’t had an assistant work with him on such a personal level before, and that makes me feel special; makes me feel things I probably shouldn’t. Not for my boss.
As the afternoon approaches, he pulls a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and hands it to me along with a credit card. On one side of the paper is a recipe for beef wellington. On the other is a hand-scrawled list of ingredients that mirror what’s on the front plus a few additional items. “You can go to the store before you make dinner,” he tells me dismissively, pulling out a set of keys. “Take the Corvette. It has more trunk space.”
“I can’t drive.” I look at the keys as he offers them to me.
He huffs. “Fine. I’ll have my driver take you.” Xan takes his phone from his desk and types out a text message.
“Can I change first?” I glance down at my inappropriate attire.
“Sure.” He waves me away, sounding annoyed. “But next time I see you, I want you to be wearing that. Do not address me unless you’re in your uniform. Do you understand me? If you do, I’ll fire you.” He glances at me over his monitor to show me he’s serious.
“Yes, sir.” I squirm internally. It’s odd how he can be so kind one moment yet so cruel the next. He’s a stern boss; that’s for sure.
“Be downstairs in twenty minutes. You’re dismissed.” He turns his gaze back to his computer and continues working.
I take my leave, going to my room to change into something more modest before heading downstairs.
There’s plenty of time to kill, so I decide to be nosy and explore the rest of the house that Xan didn’t show me on the tour. Most of what I find isn’t too surprising. There are a few extra bedrooms and a library. Then I come to one room that’s different from the rest. The walls are painted red. The ceiling is black. The floor is tiled, and it’s covered in red rugs that seem strategically placed in front of the various pieces of medieval-looking furniture. There is a wooden stockade and a strange padded cage. A throne fit for a king sits on one side of the room. I’m not sure if I should be afraid or amused. I’m not naive enough to think
that Mister Sanderlin keeps people prisoner here. If he did, I’m certain he would have made sure to lock the door so I couldn’t open it. This must be a storage space for collecting Renaissance themed furniture, a rather interesting and unexpected hobby.
I smirk to myself as I shut the door to the room, thinking about how finding it has somehow made me feel closer to Xan. If my training works out, I’ll be learning all sorts of personal things about him. How will that make me feel? My attraction to him is already apparent. I’m admittedly concerned that if I get too attached, I might...
No, I shake the thought away. He’s my boss. I can’t fall in love with him. Besides, he’s a pervert, and he’s just using me. Even if I start to care about him, there’s no way my feelings would ever be returned. No matter what happens here, I need to deaden my heart to him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get through this.
I make sure to be outside on time. Xan’s driver takes me to the grocery store but offers me no help in procuring the items on my list. He simply hangs out in the parking lot, leaving me to do all the shopping on my own.
Thankfully, most of the stuff on the list is normal everyday ingredients. The only one I have to ask for assistance in finding is liver pate, which ends up being in the canned meat section.
When I get to the bottom of the list, my face heats up. Every time I’ve read the last item on the list, I’ve blushed. But now, having to go retrieve it, I feel like I might burst into flames. If someone were to see me in that section of the store...
I ignore the item, going to the register to check out. I still plan on picking it up, but I have a plan that keeps me uninvolved.