Daddy’s Dirty Boss

by West, Jade

  I could sense the ripple in the room as the bidders prepared, and the tension was alive, the whole place ready to blow.

  And blow it did.

  Hands shot up all over, even though people were visibly holding back, and Mr Lindon was fast and firm, keeping the action running hard.

  I loved it. I totally, one million percent, more than any other promise of a career in the universe, absolutely damn loved it.

  There were bidders on the end of phones casting their offers, and bids coming in from the online site, and this one was special. Just as special as I’d known it would be.

  Then, when the figure was almost three times the highest estimate, with the silence hanging heavy between Mr Callow in the room and Mrs Evans at the end of the telephone, the hammer came down.

  Mrs Evans for the win.

  And then, when the hammer blow was still sounding loud, Mr Lindon’s eyes met mine. Hard. Heavy. Hungry. Undeniably hungry. For me.

  Faith Martin for the win.

  Shock doesn’t even come close. My eyes were wide, mouth open, and I felt guilty and gawky for being so wet between the legs and wanting him so bad, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but how we stared at each other across that room.

  It was like the garden all over again, trapped in that moment, but I was a different girl now. A girl who was nearly a woman. A girl who was ready to take him, all of him, whatever he wanted to give me. In his stare across that room I knew there was a whole damn load he wanted to give me.

  But then he looked away.

  He looked away and didn’t look back.

  My heart pounded all the way through the remaining bids, my whole body thrumming, and I could barely make it through before zipping on out of there and heading to the bathroom. Shit, how I needed the bathroom.

  I’d never felt like it before, not once in my whole life. I’d never had my clit buzzing so bad that I had to race into a toilet cubicle and tug down my knickers to rub myself senseless.

  I came quickly. Crazily quickly. I bit my lip to stop myself gasping, trying to hold my breath as I tumbled over the edge. It didn’t work. I was a mess of hisses and whimpers, cursing myself for being so useless at reining it in. The squeak of the main door hinges sounded as someone entered the toilet block, and I tried harder, giving everything I had to shut the hell up, but my body was a mess of shakes and shudders. Shit, how I didn’t want a client hearing me like this, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help it at all.

  Collecting myself took some deep breaths, and I felt even more like a dirty little bitch as I smoothed down my blouse and pencil skirt. I cursed myself before hitting flush and pulling that door lock to the side, but it was when I stepped outside the cubicle that my shame flared to a whole new level.

  It wasn’t a client standing there with her hands in the sink, all ready to set the tap running. It was Erica. Her glare stabbed me in the mirror reflection, and my burning cheeks blared right back at me, and I knew it. I knew it for certain. There was no way she hadn’t heard my dirty little gasps and shudders behind the cubicle door.

  We stood shoulder to shoulder as I took my place at the sink and I couldn’t look up, couldn’t do anything but soap my hands and hope for the best.

  She smelled of violet and spice and crazy expensive perfume, and her breath was a hiss in my ear before she spoke.

  “Don’t think you’re the first dirty little slut in this place with an infatuation on Miles Lindon and her hands down her knickers,” she said. “You’re just another sad little bitch who’ll get nowhere, no matter who your daddy is.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing at all, just kept my head down and kept soaping my hands while she continued.

  “If you have any sense in that silly little head of yours, you’ll focus on doing your mindless little job and keeping the coffees coming. You’ll be done in this place before you know it.”

  She didn’t hang around for a response, just pushed her way out of there and let the door slam behind her.

  I left it a full five minutes before daring to follow, and luckily by then she’d already gone for the day.

  Mr Lindon had too.

  Chapter Six

  Miles

  I wasn’t a drinker, not these days, but hell did I need a shot of bourbon when I got home from the office that evening. I tipped it back and poured out another, cursing myself for the thousandth fucking time for being such a deviant prick.

  I couldn’t even make sense of it. The burn between us. That simmer of something so beautifully raw, calling me like a fucking siren across that sale room. She was a fucking siren across that sale room.

  It should never be there between us.

  She was Colin Martin’s daughter. My friend’s fucking daughter. Worse than that she was barely more than a girl, despite what those dirty little eyes had to promise. Holy fucking shit did they have a lot to promise.

  I kicked back the second shot and hung my coat up on the rack. My tie tugged loose in a flash and I dropped myself down onto the sofa, flicking like frantic through the TV channels. Anything for a fucking distraction, only a distraction couldn’t be found. The TV was pointless, a sea of useless shows which did nothing whatsoever to pull me in. Eventually I flicked it off and turned my attention to my laptop, hoping to at least get some work productivity under my belt for the evening. But that was a useless piece of shit idea too.

  I was flicking through auction house listings a few counties over by the time the front door sounded. I peered through the window before I answered, but it was already dark outside and the visitor was too far under the porch to catch sight of.

  I should’ve known a mile off it was her.

  She was in her knee-length black woollen coat, wrapped up tight. Her hair was styled straight and her lipstick was dark red, just the way I used to like it.

  “What do you want?” I asked, not even bothering to smile.

  She flashed me that sly little smirk of hers, eyes still frosty as shit. “Aren’t you even going to invite me in before you give me the attitude? Manners cost nothing, Miles.”

  Manners cost more than the amount I was willing to spend on Erica fucking Tate these days.

  She pushed past me without waiting for an invite, and I pushed the door closed out of habit. She hovered on her heels in the hallway, casting her eyes about the place like anything was likely to have changed these past few months.

  “So, what do you want?” I asked again, and she leaned back against the staircase.

  “Do you know that little Miss Martin was rubbing herself off in the toilet after the auction today?”

  It took everything I had not to suck in breath. I acted as nonplussed as I could, despite the heat flooding through my balls at the thought of little Miss Martin fingering herself. “I have no idea what Faith Martin was doing outside of the auction today. I was otherwise engaged.”

  Her eyes were fierce. “She wants you. More than that, actually. I’d say she’s pretty fucking desperate for you. Another dirty little slut wanting a piece of the boss.”

  Again I acted nonplussed. I forced a shrug, then headed for the kitchen, pouring out another bourbon.

  Her heels clacked loud on the tiles as she followed me. “I mean it, Miles. You need to keep her at arm’s length. The girl stinks of trouble.”

  The girl didn’t stink of anything but pretty little pussy, ripe for the taking, but I wasn’t going to tell Erica that. I offered her a shot, my only real attempt at manners and she nodded a yes.

  I poured one out and handed it over.

  “They always get a sad little crush on you,” she said as she raised the glass to me. “Hot Mr Lindon, the big boss man. No wonder it stokes your ego. Like it needs stoking.”

  I sipped a tiny swig of whisky, feeling the familiar twinge of Erica positioning herself for the move.

  “What exactly do you fucking want?” I asked again, even though it was a pointless question.

  “You know what I fucking want,”
she hissed. “The same thing I always fucking want when I come here.”

  But tonight was the first night in a thousand my cock didn’t want it back. For the first night in a thousand my cock matched my brain and despised the stupid bitch.

  I was prepared when she closed the distance, my eyes as frosty as hers as her hand slid up my chest.

  “Don’t try to be standoffish,” she said. “We both know what’s going down here. Stop pretending you’re done. You’re never fucking done, Miles.”

  “What happened to you taking Glyn Morris?” I asked, and she laughed her bitchy little chuckle.

  “We both know Glyn Morris will never give it like you do. Nobody does. Such a fucking travesty that nobody ever gives it like you do.”

  It would have been so easy to slam my lips against hers and take my fill, just like the other billion fucking times she’d come here and laid it on a platter.

  Her hand slipped lower. Much fucking lower. “Come on, Miles. Don’t play the prude. We both know you want it like I do.”

  But this time she was wrong.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from my suit trousers. “I’m sure Glyn Morris is wanting it pretty hard tonight, you should go over to his.”

  Her mouth was a pout. “Glyn Morris can keep wanting. It’s you I want.”

  She wrenched her hand away from my grip and for that one moment I let her. Her fingers pressed to my cock through my pants, and I gritted my teeth.

  Part of me said I should give it to her. Part of me thought it would be the best way forward by a clear mile, just for the sliver of a chance to forget about Faith Martin for five fucking minutes.

  “Come on, Miles,” she said. “We both know you want me. You always do.”

  But no. I didn’t. Not this time.

  I shook my head, my eyes hard on hers. “Not anymore, I don’t.”

  She laughed. An actual fucking laugh, right in my face. “Trying to play hardball?” Her pause was enough for her to step away and pull her coat belt free. “I guess I need to bring out the weaponry then.”

  Oh fuck, did she know the weaponry. I held back a grunt as she dropped the coat from her shoulders.

  The blouse was just the way I liked it, pure white and nipped in so tight at the waist. The skirt was pleated just right, in its navy blue tartan pattern. But it was the tie. The way it fit so snugly, hanging down just right between her tits.

  She was the least convincing schoolgirl in the whole fucking world, but that didn’t matter. My dick sprung into life, balls aching at the sight.

  But it wasn’t Erica Tate I was thinking about standing there in that filthy little outfit. It was my sweet little Faith. Of course it was – those blue eyes so needy across that saleroom, just begging to be dressed up like a naughty little girl in her old Arlock Academy school uniform.

  “I knew this would be a winner,” Erica laughed. “You really are one filthy sonofabitch, Miles. Schoolgirl never fails with you, you dirty prick.”

  I pulled my stare away, shooting my attention back at the bourbon, but it didn’t matter. She closed the distance right back up in a flash, her breath hard in my face,

  “Come on, sir. Put this dirty little girl over your knee and teach her a lesson.”

  If only Erica Tate was the dirty little girl I wanted, life would be so much simpler.

  She sighed. “Come on, Miles. How much harder do I have to work for it? Really want me to play this fucking hard for a piece of your dick?”

  I closed my eyes when she dropped to her knees, and again it would have been so easy. So fucking simple. But even so, I just couldn’t take it.

  Erica’s fingers had barely closed on my belt buckle when I pulled away and moved to the opposite side of the kitchen. It was then that she knew. Really fucking knew.

  Her eyes were like daggers as she got to her feet.

  “You’re really fucking serious?! You’re really not going to fuck me?”

  I held up a hand. “Go to Glyn Morris, I’m sure he’s waiting for his fill.”

  It was a hiss that came from her mouth. Her usual tone. “I don’t want Glyn fucking Morris, Miles. I want you.”

  My eyes must have said it all when they met hers. Her lips parted, her glare registering the truth in mine.

  “Holy fucking shit, you’re really serious,” she said, and grabbed her coat from the floor. “I can’t believe you’re really fucking serious.”

  In some ways, neither could I.

  She pulled the coat tight around her and re-fastened the belt. “Is this about someone else? Have you met someone?”

  How I wished the answer was fucking no, but my gut twisted and fucking lurched, hating myself for what I really wanted.

  I shook my head, not quite believing this was happening.

  “I haven’t fucked anyone else,” I said. “Really, there’s been nothing between us for months. I really didn’t think it was a big fucking deal.”

  She shot a look at the ceiling. “You’re always a big fucking deal in the fucking bedroom, and you fucking know it. Don’t think this is some fucking Shakespearean love affair on my part,” she snapped. “This is about your dick and me wanting to take it. Nothing more. You’re not worth shit besides your fucking dick, Miles.”

  I really did hope that was the truth of it.

  “Fine,” I said. “Well, sorry I won’t be giving it to you. I’m sure Glyn will happily oblige. Maybe he likes schoolgirls too, so you can get some use out of your outfit.”

  “Fuck you,” she said, and her heels were clacking back off towards the front door in a heartbeat.

  I didn’t follow.

  I’d downed the rest of that bourbon before the door slammed closed behind her, and my cock was already in my hand with Faith Martin’s uniformed little ass in my fucking brain before she would be even halfway down the driveway.

  Chapter Seven

  Faith

  If it was even possible for Erica to shoot me a worse glare than usual as I stepped into the office on Monday morning, she did.

  I guessed it was hearing me with my hand down my knickers before the weekend, but even so, I figured she’d already hated me as much as humanly possible before that embarrassing little run in. She’d certainly seemed to.

  Still, nothing could take the grin from my face as I slipped behind my desk and waited for Mr Lindon to come and collect me.

  Brayburn’s was calling, and the excitement was already fizzing up high.

  I busied myself taking phone calls and pinging replies to query emails, trying not to count down the minutes too hard.

  It was almost ten a.m. when he appeared in front of my desk, his coat draped over his arm as he waited for me to finish up on the phone with Mrs Evans.

  “Are you ready to hit the road?” he asked when I dropped the receiver, and I nodded. I’d be ready to hit anything in this world if it meant I could be next to him for the day.

  I followed him to the main exit, doing a silly little dash ahead as he held the door open for me. He gestured to his car, a big black Mercedes saloon with huge leather seats that gobbled me up when I slipped into the passenger side.

  I clipped my seatbelt in place, tingling all over as he dropped into the driver’s side.

  “Brayburn’s is quite a drive,” he said, and I nodded.

  “I don’t mind travelling,” I replied, and I wasn’t lying.

  He pulled out of the car park and set the radio going along with the sat nav. I tried to stare ahead, but I was burning up, so aware of him being there that I couldn’t sit still without fidgeting. I could smell him, too. A fresh, citrus smell that had me warm between the legs. But there was more to it. Something heavier and deeper. Something rich like mahogany and amber and incense and perfection. So much that had me aching to get closer to smell him more.

  I wondered if he could smell me, if he liked the smell of me, but those thoughts had my cheeks burning up. I turned my gaze to the side window, told myself to think of something else.

&nb
sp; “What did you think of your first auction then?” he asked as we headed out of town.

  Another flash of embarrassment flared up in my belly at the thought of my dash to the bathroom. “It was amazing,” I said, and my words ran away with me. “You were amazing.”

  I felt his eyes on me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  There was so much I wanted to say. So much that I wanted to blurt out like a crazy idiot trying to make the most of my first truly alone time with him in years. I wanted to tell him I’d been thinking of the garden non-stop ever since, and knew he remembered it too. I wanted to tell him I’d seen him looking at me from the podium, and couldn’t stand how much I wanted him right back.

  I wanted to tell him it was nearly my birthday. Nearly my eighteenth birthday. That I was nearly a woman wanting a man for her first proper time, and I wanted him to be that man. I wanted him to be the man who would take me.

  But I said nothing.

  I bopped my head to the radio track and stared out of that windscreen and hated how I was falling so crazy short of the plan Holly and I had conjured up on the cricket pitch over the weekend. In the cold light of day, it really did seem ridiculous that I’d be anything like the tantalising temptress laying it all out like we’d plotted.

  “So, how are you finding the office?” he asked, and I shot up a smile.

  “I love it,” I told him, and meant it. “It’s everything I dreamed.”

  “Really?” he asked, and I nodded. “Well, I am glad about that. I’m pleased your summer experience will be worthwhile.”

  My summer experience could be a whole world more than the office alone could show me. My belly did a weird little flip at the thought. The need.

  But this wasn’t the Mr Lindon I’d dreamed I’d to be going to Brayburn’s with. I’d imagined the dirty Mr Lindon with the burning eyes, eating me up on the way to the client’s place. I’d imagined the Mr Lindon I’d been masturbating over for years, finally reaching out to grab at me.

  This Mr Lindon was professional and calm and everything I admired in the office.