“You’re the boss, are you, princess?” he asked harshly. “Not my boss, no matter what you like people to think.”
“No?” she challenged.
“No.” He cracked his belt across her ass twice, then stopped. Too loud, even over her skirt. She’d been right, but he wasn’t about to admit it to her. She was breathing hard. “Are you the boss, Ophelia?”
“No, Luke.”
“No. You’re not. The only way you pay me to be here is with that tight little cunt of yours.”
She sighed and pressed her ass back against him in silent invitation. “You can’t fuck me right now,” she objected unconvincingly. “Serena will be back in a few minutes, and I have another meeting in an hour.”
He attempted to shove her skirt upward, but the narrow garment couldn’t accommodate that. He found the tiny hook, the dainty zipper, and impatiently opened them both, then peeled the severe navy blue fabric down. When her blue lacy thong fully displayed the sinfully rounded globes of her ass, he ran his hand over it and she gasped, as though shocked he’d do such a thing. She shifted in place, letting the skirt skim down her thighs to land in an expensive puddle around her feet.
“We really can’t,” she objected, pulling feebly against his grasp, but glancing coyly over her shoulder.
“Nice try. We’re going to do whatever I want to do, wherever and whenever I want to do it.”
“I’ll scream,” she warned.
“I love making you scream,” he admitted. “You’re the only one who’ll get embarrassed about that, except maybe for Serena.”
He grabbed her wrists and held them together behind her back. She struggled, testing his hold, then quivered when he ran his finger along the back waistband of her thong, and followed its trail down the crevice of her ass. The invasion was met with a strangled sob.
“You’d better not come, Ophelia. I haven’t even pulled down your panties yet.”
“I’m not! I’m not even turned on. This is dumb. I need to be working.”
“If you’re not turned on, why are you so wet?” He ran his finger back and forth between her legs, pushing the fabric of her thong between her labia, exploring and spreading the dampness she was helpless to conceal from him.
“It’s . . . I spilled some water on my lap earlier,” she tried lamely.
“Uh-huh. Hot water, right on your panties?” He hooked fingers into the wispy fabric and drew them down to mid thigh. She was so slick it was easy to coax two fingers into her pussy. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp, and she crumpled the papers beneath her in both hands.
He tsked. “Ophelia! You’re making a mess, young lady.”
“It’s your fault,” she grumbled. “I was fine until you strolled in here looking all menacing and tattooed. That shirt is so tight I can see your nipple rings, you know. It’s not fair. And you’re hard. I’m supposed to be working!”
“So work. I’m not stopping you.”
‘You’re holding my arms behind my back.”
“You don’t need your arms to read. Don’t mind me. You keep working and I’ll just use what’s mine and be on my way.”
“What’s yours?” she echoed in annoyance, then moaned as he stroked her clit. “You can’t just come in here and use me whenever you feel like it.”
He chuckled. “Hmm. That’s funny—no one is stopping me. I haven’t heard you safeword, so apparently I can do whatever I want.”
“I should safeword one of these days just to teach you a lesson.”
“Oh, like you’d deny yourself the chance to have an orgasm.”
“Not letting me come this morning was mean! I’ve been frustrated all day,” she complained. “Aren’t you supposed to take care of my needs?”
“Only if you’re a good girl.” He pulled his fingers away from her pussy and leaned over her, covering her body with his own. “Are you a good girl, Ophelia?”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes were glassy as she looked over her shoulder at him.
He tapped her chin and she opened, sucking her own wetness from his fingers when he pushed them into her waiting mouth. Such a good girl, and so well trained now. He could never decide if he liked her better obedient or disobedient. Both were fun in their own way. Her eyes had closed, and she sucked his fingers more and more suggestively.