by Kira Bloom
4
Winter
“So, explain to me again. Exactly how hot was this guy?”
I didn’t look up from the digital doctor’s bill on my laptop screen as I answered, “Stupid hot. Like, I’m still not sure he was even real, he was so fucking attractive. But he was kind of scary, too.”
My roommate and best friend of the last few years came around to sit on the opposite end of the couch, a glass of cheap wine in her hand. Khloe’s curly black hair was pulled back into a high bun, and she was wearing her glasses over her bright green eyes.
“Like, tyrannical asshole scary, or I’m gonna peel your skin and wear it scary?” she demanded.
I peeked up at her, flashing a half-grin. “More like, if you disobey me, I’ll make your ass red, scary.”
Khloe’s eyes went wide. “Damn. That’s the best kind of scary. Does he have any more openings?”
I took a sip of my own wine before saying, “As I was leaving his office, he told me if I questioned him again, there’d be consequences. What do you think he meant by that?”
“Fuck, girl, that sounds like some Fifty Shades shit.”
I nearly snorted aloud. Leave it to Khloe to instantly go there. When we met three years ago at a Halloween party, she was dressed as the movie—with several gray paint cards from Home Depot attached to her skimpy black bodysuit.
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that can’t be it. He’s a professional, and he didn’t even seem to like me that much.”
“But he hired you without really interviewing you,” she said, some of her wine sloshing out of her glass and onto our threadbare carpet when she jabbed a green-painted fingernail at me. “Seems to me he might interested in your for more than your impressive resume.”
Thinking back to my meeting with Mr. Maslow, I just couldn’t see it. He had been nothing but professional with me, up until that last statement before I left. And there was a 99.9 percent chance that was innocent of any ulterior motive. He’d said he was a hard man to work for. He was likely just a hard ass when it came to showing up on time and following his instructions. A control freak rather than a sex freak.
But don’t those always seem to go hand-in-hand?
I forced the thought from my head, feeling like a certified dumbass for even thinking it. “I can’t see it. Why would he risk the lawsuit?”
“Welllll.” Oh boy, here we go. Khloe waggled her dark eyebrows suggestively. “Would it be harassment, or consensual if you two hooked up?”
I’d fucking beg for it if he asked me to.
The thought was so shocking, I choked on my wine.
Gulping, I quickly replied, “It doesn’t matter. I’m not hooking up with my new boss, no matter how hot or consensual the encounter may be. I don’t see it happening. End of story.”
“What-the-fuck-ever.” She gave a dramatic roll of her green eyes and took another sip of her wine.
Playfully, I kicked her knee. “I’m serious!”
Throwing her free hand up in surrender, she said, “All right! All right, you’re not doing your super-hot boss, even if you both want it. You’re an outstanding employee with impeccable morals and the ability to make good decisions.”
Not even close.
Guilt had been slowly gnawing at me since I’d left Maslow Architecture. I’d hated being forced into this situation before I met Dmitry Maslow, but now that I had a face to go with the name, I felt even more terrible. I hadn’t even told Khloe the real reason I’d applied for the personal assistant job. Yet, I couldn’t see any other way out of my current predicament. Getting close to Mr. Maslow was my only viable option because the most important person in my world was depending on me.
“I’m just not looking to lose my job because I fucked the boss and he got bored,” I said with a shrug, dropping my gaze back to my laptop. “I need this paycheck, and the sizable benefits package. We can’t keep living on tips, Khloe.”
My best friend sighed. “You’re right. Soon, though, my work will take off. I’ve had a few interested parties reach out to me since my last showing. I think I could get some commissioned jobs soon.”
An excited squeal escaped my lips. Khloe’s art was incredible, and I was always stunned at the intricate pieces she was able to create. “Khloe! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cheeks flushing pink, my roommate hunched her shoulders in a sheepish shrug. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t pan out. It could still fall through, you know. Nothing’s set in stone.”
“But people are showing interest and talking to you. That’s huge!”
A small smile curled her lips. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Screw this cheap crap, I’m busting out the bubbly,” I announced, resting my wine glass on the floor and putting my computer on the coffee table so I could hop to my feet. The bill could wait.
It wasn’t like I had the money to pay it anyway.
“Win, really! It’s not a big deal—”
I tossed a dark look over my shoulder, which earned another eye roll from Khloe. “The hell it’s not. Your art career is gaining momentum, and I landed a grownup job today. We’re celebrating!”
She chuckled as I dug through our fridge for the sparkling wine we kept on hand for special occasions.
“Fine,” she sighed, “if you insist.”
“I do.” I removed the foil top and worked the cork loose with a pop. As I poured us each a drink, I momentarily forgot about the shitshow that was my life and the smoldering blue gaze of my new boss.
For a moment, I was able to forget how badly I was about to screw him over.
5
Winter
Shit, I’m so late!
I practically ran into the office building, satchel slung over one shoulder and beating wildly against my hip as I took long strides, both my hands carrying piping hot to-go cups of coffee. I’d asked Fiona on my way out yesterday how Mr. Maslow liked his coffee. I had thought it would get us off on the right foot if I showed up this morning with a cup, but the line at the coffee shop had been ridiculous.
Now I was rolling into my first day of work ten minutes late.
My thrift store heels clicked on the shiny wood floor of the waiting room as I hurried past the reception desk. Fiona glanced up at my approach and arched a perfectly plucked reddish-brown eyebrow.
“You’re late, Ms. Rivers. He doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled, racing past the redhead. I kept my eyes straight ahead, my heart racing with dread as I neared the end of the hall. Stopping in front of Mr. Maslow’s double doors, I realized I had no way of opening them without putting one of the coffees down. Groaning in frustration, I readjusted them so that one was pinned between my arm and side, giving me a free hand to push open the door.
I stumbled into the office, nearly losing my balance in my haste.
“You’re late, Ms. Rivers,” Mr. Maslow growled from his desk. He was sifting through files, his eyes lowered. He didn’t look up at me as I neared, which was probably a good thing since his mere gaze stripped me of my senses.
“I’m so sorry, sir, I stopped to get you a coffee, and—”
The heel of my shoe suddenly snapped, and I lost my balance. I crashed to the floor. The coffee in my hand flung from my grasp, but the cup clutched between my arm and side exploded onto me.
“Hot!” I shrieked, wiping frantically at my side and plucking my clothes to try and keep them from touching my body.
“Ms. Rivers!” Mr. Maslow came bolting around his desk and dropped down on the floor next to me. Without a word, he grabbed my shirt and ripped it open. Buttons went flying as he forced the soaked material off my shoulders and flung it away from me. “Don’t move,” he ordered in a low voice.
Pushing to his feet, he rushed to a liquor service behind his desk and grabbed the ice bucket and a towel. Returning to me, he dumped ice into the towel, wrapped it up, and pressed it into my side, where the worst of the burning
radiated. I flinched at the sudden cold of the ice, but soon released a ragged breath as the pain begin to fade.
He held the cool towel against me with one hand, and his other rested on the floor next to my head so he was leaning over me. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
“I-I think so,” I murmured.
Pulling the towel away, he glanced down, his black eyebrows drawing together as he examined my flesh. “I think I got it off you in time. The burn doesn’t look serious, but you should still go to the emergency room to get it checked out.”
His icy blue eyes moved from my side across my torso and lingered on my chest. It was in that moment that I remembered that I was shirtless, with only a scrap of pink lace shielding my breasts. In my panic, it had hardly registered that he’d ripped my blouse from me. He didn’t move his gaze for several moments, and I felt a different kind of heat begin to ripple through me. One that settled between my thighs.
His eyes were dark as he stared down at me. Hungry.
“Mr. Maslow?” I rasped.
“Given the circumstances, I’ll let you off with a warning for being late today, Ms. Rivers,” he said in a low tone that made my breath heavier and my pussy clench with desire. “If it happens again, however, you’ll be punished.”
His words didn’t sound like a threat. They sounded like a promise. And with the way he was looking at me, I wasn’t sure it would be merely a dock in my pay.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, suddenly no longer embarrassed to be half-naked beneath him. Maybe it was the shock of what had just happened, or maybe some of the pain was clouding my mind and skewing my judgment, but I wanted his hungry eyes to look their fill. His big hands to strip the rest of my clothes away. Whatever the reason, one thing was certain: Dmitry Maslow made me want.
And I could see clearly that he wanted something, too.
He ran his eyes along my torso one more time before pushing to his feet. Reaching down a hand, he helped me stand. When I kicked off my other shoe, I realized that he was at least a foot taller than me.
“I’ll send someone out to fetch you a new shirt and some shoes, and then you’ll go to the hospital.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a clear command.
Licking my lips, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes flared as his Adam’s apple dropped. “In the meantime, hold that towel against you and sit over there.” He jabbed a finger to a leather couch resting beneath his shelves of awards.
Nodding, I moved to obey, but his fingers gently closed around my upper arm.
“What do you say, Ms. Rivers?”
I met his gaze, and there was a challenge in their blue depths. I could see what he wanted from me, and it wasn’t an apology or gratefulness. It was obedience and surrender.
My heart raced when I realized that, despite what I had told Khloe, I wanted to give him both.
Parting my lips, I murmured the two words I knew he desired. The ones I’d already been saying without thought, because they felt so natural with this man.
“Yes, sir.”
His fingers tightened for a moment before he released me again.
“Good girl.”
I turned away from him toward the couch, my face on fire with a blush, but my lips curled into a large grin.
6
Winter
I was right on time to work the next morning.
After the coffee incident yesterday, I didn’t bother to stop again. I knew a better way to please my new boss than bringing him an espresso. He hadn’t spoken a word to me as I’d waited for a new shirt and shoes, and when they had arrived, he’d once more ordered me to go to the hospital and then take the rest of the day off. I hadn’t wanted to. I’d have rather come back to the office and explore whatever the tension between us was, but I hadn’t wanted to disobey him either.
It was so strange, how much I wanted to please him. We’d only just met, but I was drawn to the power and control that radiated from him. I wanted to see what he was like when he reached the end of that control.
Or experience what he’d do to me if I pushed him to the edge.
My heart was racing with excitement as I entered the building and made my way past reception. Fiona glanced up and gave me a nod of approval.
“Better.”
“Thanks,” I said as I continued down the hall.
Reaching Mr. Maslow’s office, I took a moment to calm myself and appear more professional before opening one of the doors to step inside.
The office was empty.
I frowned and checked my phone for the time. It was exactly eight. Where was he?
What was I supposed to do until he arrived?
Moving to his desk, I glanced across the surface to see if he had left me a note or anything. Nothing. All his files and papers were stacked in neat piles, and there was no unnecessary clutter taking up space. The desk, and in fact the whole office, was immaculate.
Resting my satchel on the floor, I moved around to his big leather chair. I brushed my fingers across its back, then glanced up at the door, listening hard. When there was no sign of his approach, I slid into the seat with a sigh. It was firm, but comfortable. I felt instantly more powerful sitting here, behind his massive desk, breathing in the woodsy scent of his aftershave lingering around me. With a mischievous grin, I threw my feet up on the desk and pretended I was a big-shot businesswoman with the world at my beck and call.
And not the horrible loser whose fate lies in someone else’s hands.
“Enjoying yourself, Ms. Rivers?”
I yelped in shock at the sound of his voice, dropping my feet back to the hard floor. Spinning in his chair, I found him standing in a doorway I hadn’t even known was there, his muscular arms folded and his eyes flaming with disapproval.
When I tried to stand, I gulped hard with the realization that fear had glued my ass to his seat. “Sir! I’m-I’m so sorry … I didn’t know you were here.”
Striding forward, he pulled the door behind him shut. It blended seamlessly into the wall.
“So that means you have permission to sit in my chair and place your feet on my desk?” he demanded.
Shit, fuck! Fuck, shit!
“No, sir, that’s not …” I didn’t know what to say. I’d been so determined to make him happy today, and I was blowing it all over again. “I-I just—”
“Did you think I would be more lenient in my expectations of your behavior after yesterday? Is that it, Ms. Rivers?”
“No, I—”
“Clearly letting you off the hook so easily was a mistake.” He prowled toward me. Leaning down, he braced both his hands on the arms of the chair, caging me in. Lowering his voice to a growl, he said, “The level of your disobedience, Ms. Rivers …”
My breath left me in a rush and my heart raced as I stared up into his eyes. He didn’t look angry anymore, but he was no less intimidating. I felt my panties dampen as he gazed down at me with blatant desire in his eyes, though I couldn’t tell it if was desire for me, or for what he was going to do next.
Sucking in a breath, I rasped, “Are you going to fire me, sir?”
“Is that what you want, Ms. Rivers?”
I wanted to touch him. Kiss him. Press my body to his and explore his hardness. I kept my hands to myself, however, unsure if he would be receptive to any of that. What if he was only interested in punishment, whatever that was, and not necessarily me?
In this moment, I decided I didn’t really care. His eyes were on me, and if I let him, his hands would likely be, too.
I shook my head. “I want to work here. For you.”
His nostrils flared and his body tensed around me. “Get up.”
He stepped back to give me room to obey his command, and I did, slowly rolling my body until I was upright. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“Step away.”
I moved away from the chair and he took my place in its seat. Gazing down, I could see a sizeable bulge beginning to tent his pants.
&
nbsp; “Bend over my lap, Ms. Rivers.”
God, this was the hottest thing I’d ever done. It was so wrong, I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself from leaning down to lay across his hard thighs. My ass was propped in the air, and I had never felt more vulnerable with a man than I did in this moment. Trepidation mixed with my growing excitement. Would this hurt? Obviously it would, but how bad?
Isn’t there usually a safe word in situations like this?
“One slap for every minute you were late yesterday.” He yanked up my skirt without warning, exposing my ass and the black cotton thong I wore. I didn’t miss the hitch in his breath as his large palm caressed over my ass cheeks. “You will count. If it becomes too much for you, you will say the word Good.”
I felt instantly more at ease having an out available to me.
“Yes, sir.”
He shifted beneath me, and I felt his erection press into my belly.
The first hit took me by surprise, as he gave no word of warning it was coming. I let out a little cry because it stung more than I’d ever expected.
“Count, Ms. Rivers. Or I’ll start all over.”
“One,” I panted.
The next blow landed on my other cheek.
“Two.”
His palm connected with the first cheek, in the same spot as before. The pain was worse on my already tender flesh.
“Th-three.”
He repeated his actions on the other side.
“Four.” Hot tears pricked my eyes. This wasn’t as fun as I’d thought it’d be. I considered using my word when the next slap came.
“Ms. Rivers.” My name was a warning when I didn’t speak up right away.
“Five.”
“Very good.”
I squirmed in his lap when the sixth hit came and gasped, “Six.”
“You’re almost done, Ms. Rivers. You are doing very, very well.”
His praise helped ease some of my discomfort. My ass was on fire, but I realized with a start that I was so wet, my thong was soaked through.