The Boss's Orders: Alpha Male Billionaire Office Romance

by Cat Carmine

  Finally, I hear him push his chair out. He comes to stand behind me. Right behind me. The fabric of his pants rubs against my spread pussy. I can feel how hard he is even through the pants. Oh God, I can’t believe how badly I want him to fuck me.

  I still can’t believe I’m having these thoughts about my boss. Or that my boss is making me do these things in the first place.

  Mr. Godrich puts his hands on my ass and pulls me back against him. I can feel his dick pressing harder against me, and I know I’m soaking the front of his pants.

  We stand like that for a second and then he moves away.

  “Very good, Claire, thank you.”

  I stand up and my back clenches a little. My legs are still shaking and the blood that’s rushing to my face is only half due to being bent over for so long.

  I stare into his eyes. Those dark blue eyes. It’s like falling into an ocean.

  Deep and unfathomable.

  I can’t read anything in his expression. I search his face for any sign of his intentions, his end game. But William Godrich has the ultimate poker face — he gives nothing away.

  “That will be all, thank you.”

  So I’m dismissed. I walk back out to my own desk, trying not to make it too obvious how much my legs are shaking. Part of me doesn’t even want to stop at my desk. Part of me wants to keep on walking, straight out of this office.

  I know I won’t though. I sit down at my desk, cross my legs, and turn on my computer.

  Later that afternoon, Mr. Godrich drops a shopping bag on my desk. I don’t recognize the label on the front. It must be a store too expensive for me to shop at. You know the kind, where they look at you like you’re basically homeless if you aren’t carrying a five thousand dollar handbag.

  “What’s this?” Part of me is afraid to touch it.

  “Open it.”

  He’s standing on the other side of my desk, waiting.

  I open the bag and rummage through the layers of tissue paper. I pull out a small black band of fabric. I can’t even figure out what it is. Some kind of bandeau bra?

  I look up at him questioningly.

  “Since you do not seem to grasp what I’m telling you when I say to wear a shorter skirt, I thought I would save us both the trouble and pick one up for you.”

  This is a skirt? I stretch it out between my hands. I could almost wear it as a headband. I look up at him and shock must be registered on my face.

  “I expect to see you wearing that tomorrow.”

  “I can’t wear this!”

  “You can. And you will.”

  The next morning when I get dressed, I put on the skirt. With panties, it would be risqué. Without panties, it’s completely obscene.

  I have to wear a coat over this. I can’t go on the train like this.

  Yet … I know that going on the train like this is exactly what Mr. Godrich wants. And I know he’ll be disappointed in me if I show up to the office covered up in a trench coat.

  So even though it makes me so nervous I might throw up, I go to work without a coat.

  The train ride seems to take forever. Men all over the train are staring at me. There are no empty seats so I’m forced to stand, and I’m pretty sure that the bottom curve of my ass cheek is visible under the skirt. The man sitting on the seat in front of where I’m standing keeps sneaking glances over at me, and I can only imagine what the view is from there.

  And even though it’s humiliating and wrong and dirty … I can’t deny how turned on I am by it.

  How much I enjoy obeying Mr. Godrich’s orders.

  While I’m riding the train, I think about my new predicament. I never would have considered myself submissive before. But then, I’d never met a man like William Godrich before. A man so powerful and in control of himself. A man so dominant and domineering.

  It made me want to give up control, to put my autonomy in his devilish hands.

  It made me want to do everything he said.

  Everything.

  And that’s exactly why I was riding the train to work without any panties this morning. And why I couldn’t wait to find out what would happen once I actually got to the office.

  10

  William

  Claire comes in and she’s wearing the skirt I bought her. No coat either, which impresses me. The skirt truly leaves nothing to the imagination, so I give her full points for having the guts to wear it. She’s even wearing a pair of fuck-me heels that make her legs look even longer — and make the skirt look even shorter. I knew I chose well with her.

  I summon her into my office and she hops in quickly, like an eager little bunny.

  “You look lovely today, Claire.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She blushes. Fuck. It still kills me when she calls me sir. That word on her pretty pink lips.

  “I have some tasks for you today.”

  “Oh?” Her expression is hopeful, and I almost smile.

  I dump a huge stack of file folders on the floor in front of her. Papers fly everywhere.

  “These need to be filed. In the cabinets there.” I point behind her.

  “Alright.” I can tell she’s disappointed but she maintains her professional smile.

  Fuck, I love being the boss.

  She reaches down to pick up one of the file folders and realizes she can’t bend over without completely exposing herself. She tries to awkwardly crouch down while holding the skirt in place, but she quickly figures out that isn’t going to work.

  So Claire, my clever little girl, gets down on her knees to gather all the folders.

  Mmm, I like her in this position. I sit at my desk and lean back as I drink in the view of her crawling on my carpet on her hands and knees. I think about giving in then, just unleashing my thick cock and shoving it right into her wet little mouth. Maybe I will in a little bit. For now, I’m impressed enough with her ingenuity to let her finish the task I’ve assigned her.

  I pretend to work on emails for a bit but I really can’t bring myself to do anything but watch the show she’s putting on. She’s put all the folders in a pile now and she manages to stand up with an armful of them without showing off too much of her pussy. I see a little peek of pink in there though, and it’s just enough to drive me to distraction. Fuck, that’s a sweet little peach. I’d love to nibble on that and let all those sweet juices run right down my face.

  She starts filing the folders in the cabinet I pointed her to. When she finds things that need to go in the bottom drawer, she bends over quickly, stuffing them in and then standing back up and smoothing down her skirt. I still get a peek of her pussy every time though, and every time my dick gets harder.

  I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to wait before I have to fuck this girl. How did I get lucky enough to stumble across her that day at Prescott & Bailey? She is a gorgeous wonder, so fucking sweet and sexy and smart.

  I shake my head. I’m getting downright sappy here, and there’s a naked pussy that needs some of my attention.

  When Claire finishes with her filing, she turns to me. She’s waiting for my direction.

  I stand up from behind my desk.

  “You did very well, Claire.” She looks happy. Damn, I love how much she wants to please me. But I can’t hold back anymore. I need a taste.

  “I did, however, notice you tried to keep your pussy hidden from me. That wasn’t very nice of you.”

  She looks down at the ground.

  “Come here.”

  Claire takes a few tentative steps towards me. I pick my laptop off my desk and move aside the contracts I was working on.

  “Sit.”

  Claire looks down at the desk, hesitating.

  “Sit your ass down, Claire.”

  She hops up lightly onto the desk and crosses her ankles and I chuckle.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She hesitates again.

  “I said spread them.”

  She slowly moves her knees apart.

&nbs
p; “Wider.”

  Her pussy is on full display for me now. I take in the glorious sight of it —pink, ruffled, and slick and shiny with her juices.

  “I’m going to make you come now, Claire.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I lose my mind a little bit then. I lean over her and force her onto her back. Then I grab her wrists and pin them up over with her head. With my other hand I reach down to her hot, slick pussy.

  She squirms under me as I flick my finger across her clit. I move my fingers up and down her folds, finding her hole and running my finger just along the edge of her.

  I’m leaning over her and I know she can feel my rock hard dick. I can’t wait to make her take it for real, but today it’s just about her. I lean over her and force my tongue into her mouth. She takes me submissively, letting me invade her mouth just as down below my hand is invading her most intimate place.

  She is moving against me, writhing with pleasure. I plunge one finger deep inside her, and then I add another one. I flick my fingers up in a way that makes her whole body quiver.

  In just a few seconds I feel her pussy start to clench around my fingers. I keep her arms pinned over her head as she comes all over my hand. Her face twists into something that looks like a cross between pleasure and agony.

  It’s so fucking hot. I already know I need to see it again.

  Damn, I’m in trouble with this one.

  I take my hand away from her pussy and slide my big leather executive chair over so that I can sit, then I lean in and bury my face between her legs.

  Her back arches as soon as my tongue touches her still sensitive clit, but I hold her down so she can’t squirm too much.

  I run my tongue around her little nub in slow lazy circles, and when she gets a little bit used to that I harden my tongue and flick it back and forth. I can hear the hottest fucking little mewling noises coming out of her mouth as she wriggles around on the slick mahogany of my desk.

  I run my tongue up and down her slit, taking in as much of her sweet juices as I can. She tastes like the fruit that tempted Adam and Eve into original sin, and I want to get fucking lost in it.

  I fuck my tongue in and out of her, stopping every once in awhile to suck her clit in between my lips. She tastes so soft, so sweet, and when she comes over my mouth, I lick up every bit of her juices. I feel like I could survive an eternity on this woman.

  After she’s come a second time, I stand up. I have to get her out of here before I lose myself forever.

  “Thank you, Claire. That will be all.”

  She struggles to pull herself up, to catch her breath. To clean herself up, at least a little, before she walks back out to her own desk. I stand there, feigning impatience, waiting for her to get going, even though what I want is to pull her down on the floor and fuck her fast and hard.

  “I have a meeting now,” I tell her. “I expect you to be finished with this filing by the time I get back.”

  I don’t wait around to see the expression on her face. I stride out of the office. Once I’m out of view, I pause and try to catch my breath. Jesus. This girl might just be the death of me.

  11

  Claire

  After he leaves, I take a moment to try to collect myself. My mind is still reeling from my encounter with William. Mr. Godrich. My boss.

  My body is reeling too.

  I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my entire life. And never twice in a row like that. My entire body is still shaking with it. No one has ever done to my body what he does, no one has ever made me feel that way before.

  But … part of me feels regret. He’s my boss. This is my job. If this goes south, we could both get in trouble. I could fired, my reputation smeared. No one wants to be known as the girl who fucks the boss. No one would hire me — I’d be a walking liability.

  Thinking of HR reminds me that I still haven’t heard back from Kelly. To distract myself from my own dilemma, I fire her off another quick note, just saying that I hope she’s doing okay and then I’d still love to have coffee some time.

  By that time, I’m starting to get feeling in my legs again and I go back to the filing job Mr. Godrich left for me. It takes me the rest of the day, during which time I don’t see hide nor hair of him.

  Finally, after five o’clock, he strolls in. I’m just about to leave but he drops a shopping bag on my desk. It’s from the same store as the one from yesterday and my heart starts to race, wondering what he has cooked up for me now.

  I look at him quizzically but he just nods towards the bag.

  “Open it.”

  Once again I paw through layer upon layer of tissue paper, finally pulling out something black. I unfold it. It’s a dress. A beautiful one. Short, but not scandalously so. Formfitting, and with a sheer lace back. I look at my boss, more confused than ever.

  “I’m taking you to dinner.” He clears his throat. Is it my imagination or does the unflappable Mr. Godrich actually seem a tiny bit … nervous? “As a thank you for your excellent behaviour this week.”

  My heart is racing even faster now. This is hardly what I expected him to say but in a way I’m even more nervous now. Have dinner with this man? The same man I can barely look in the eye?

  “Yes.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I’d love to.”

  “You can change in my office,” he says. Then adds, with a wolfish grin. “I’ll be watching, of course.”

  We go into his office and he sits at his desk while I start to change. The sheer back on the dress means there’s no way I can wear a bra with this thing. I take off my silk top and then reach around to unclasp my bra. Mr. Godrich’s eyes blaze as my tits pop free.

  I could pull the dress on now, and slide my skimpy little skirt off after I have the dress on — that would be the most discreet way to do it. But the look of clear desire in Mr. Godrich’s eyes emboldens me. I shimmy the skirt down off my hips until I’m standing naked in front of my boss.

  “Distract me much more and we might not make it to dinner,” he growls.

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  Mr. Godrich comes over to me. He slides a hand up my torso and cups my breast, flicking his thumb across my hard little nipple.

  “Claire, make no mistake. I am going to fuck you. But we’re going to do it when I say so. And I’m going to make you beg.”

  “Beg?”

  “Beg. Like you’ve never begged for anything in your life.”

  I swallow.

  Somehow, I believe him.

  Mr. Godrich has his driver take us to an upscale restaurant on the waterfront, not too far from the office. The hostess recognizes him and takes us immediately to a table in the very back of the restaurant, hidden from view by a series of pillars. As she walks with us, she sneaks glances back at Mr. Godrich. I can’t say that I blame her. I notice almost every woman in the restaurant turning to watch us — to ogle him, and to judge me.

  Screw you, ladies, I almost giggle. No one here has to know I’m actually his secretary. Tonight I’m just the mystery woman on the arm of one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

  It’s actually a little bit thrilling.

  “Is this all right?” Mr. Godrich asks me. We’ve been seated now, and the hostess has left, promising to send over our waiter in short order.

  “It’s perfect. Thank you, Mr. Godrich.”

  “Claire, I think you can call me William.”

  “William.” His name on my tongue somehow makes me flush. I hope he can’t see it in the dim candlelight.

  “I like that.” He smiles.

  I flush harder. “Me too.”

  I’m saved from any further embarrassment by the arrival of our waiter. Mr. Godrich — William — orders the wine, a 1987 French merlot that he swears I’ll love. Even though he knows nothing about my tastes, I somehow don’t doubt him.

  After the waiter disappears, William surprises me by asking about my childhood.

  “I grew up ju
st a couple hours outside Chicago,” I tell him. “But all I ever wanted when I was growing up was to leave that town and build a life here in the city.”

  “And now you have.”

  “Mostly.” I don’t tell him about my bitchy roommates or the mice in our apartment or the fact that I have yet to make any real friends in the city. And of course, he already knows that my career is not exactly on fire at the moment.

  “What about you,” I say, changing the subject. “Godrich and Associates, did you inherit your father’s company?”

  His eyes narrow. “My father has nothing to do with my company. I built Godrich and Associates from the ground up. My money, my skills, my hard work.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.” I obviously hit a nerve.

  “It’s fine. It’s just that everyone assumes that because I’m young, I must be riding Daddy’s coat tails, when nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “I understand.” And I do. “My parents cut me off when I was sixteen. So although I might not run a billion-dollar company, I know what it’s like to have to make it on your own.”

  He raises his eyebrows. It actually feels kind of good to be able to surprise the man. “Why’d they cut you off?”

  I shrug. I don’t usually talk about this part of my life very much, but something about William and what we’ve shared over the last couple of weeks makes me want to open up to him.

  “I was dating a guy that they weren’t happy about.”

  “That’s it? That doesn’t seem like a good reason to throw your daughter out.”

  “Well, I was pretty wild back then. Drinking and a bit of drugs. My boyfriend at the time — Al — he was into some pretty serious stuff, dealing drugs and some petty crime. I think my parents thought that cutting me off would knock some sense into me.”

  “Did it?”

  I laugh. “Nope. I don’t think I needed to be cut loose back then. I think what I needed was discipline.”

  The word hangs in the air between us. Time slows for a second. William licks his lips.