So why make a move now? Why does he suddenly want to fuck me?
"You don't have to overthink this, my princess."
I nearly fall out of my chair.
My boss has just called me his princess, and I...want to hear it again and again and again.
"Just tell me what you want," he cajoles, "and it will be as you say."
I should really put an end to this madness, but instead I hear myself whisper the craziest things—-
Oh God, what am I doing?
I'm asking him for things that I never thought I could make myself ask for, and I can't seem to stop the words from pouring out. It's like having this evil twin take over my soul, and afterwards, all I can do is hold my breath and wait—-
Is he going to fire me after everything I said?
But all my gorgeous boss does is smile, and oh God, even though it's ever so brief and slight, I have never seen anything hotter in my entire life, and my heart starts fluttering away.
TICK-TOCK. TICK-TOCK. Tick-tock.
I've never been a clock-watcher, but ever since coming out of Stone's office in a daze, I haven't been able to stop myself from checking the time every few minutes.
A part of me wishes I had the ability to hit a fast forward button for time, but the other part of me wants to make the world stop spinning, even just for a moment.
I just need a moment to breathe and let things sink in.
Is this really happening?
The question echoes endlessly in my mind even as I force myself to get back to work and act like nothing's out of the ordinary. The sky is still blue, the sun is still about to set outside my window, and oh my God, the door to Stone's office is opening—-
My gaze darts to my phone to check the time.
5:00 PM.
Stone has always been punctual at work, and apparently, he's just as punctual as a sugar daddy.
"Mary?"
"Y-Yes, sir?"
"Can you come to my place and work overtime on our proposal for the Emir Sheikh?"
So that's our alibi?
I clear my throat. "Of course, Mr. Verhoff."
"I'll see you at seven then."
He walks back into his office, and he's still inside when I've cleared my desk and prepare to leave.
Thoughts of Stone continue to consume my mind as I take the bus back home and go through my less-than-stellar wardrobe.
I've been in love with my boss for three years, and in a blink of an eye he's become my sugar daddy. That I never saw this coming is a vast understatement, and I find myself wondering again—-
Why make a move now?
The answer eludes me, and I remain a jittery bag of nerves as I ring the doorbell of Stone's apartment at precisely six forty-five.
Last chance to end this insanity, Mary Cavendish!
Just as I consider turning back and running away, the door opens, and oh God—-
This isn't the first time I've seen my boss dressed casually in a V-neck shirt and jeans, but I think it's safe to say that this is the first time I've seen my boss looking at me like I'm about to be his dinner.
Oh yes
I mean, oh no.
"Come in, baby girl."
Oh dear.
I'm in a daze again.
Did I hear that right?
First, it was princess.
And now—-
Did the ever-so-serious Stone Verhoff just call me his 'baby girl'?
He places his hand on the small of my back, and the scorching heat of his touch makes me feel like I'm about to self-combust.
I've always taken care not to touch him by accident in any way. I never wanted him to think that I could be seducing him like his first secretary had.
But now—-
Lord, oh Lord.
Neither of us speaks as he walks me to his dining room, and the silence only heightens my awareness with every instance that the sides of our bodies come into contact. He feels so hot and hard, and it's just making everything feel more surreal than ever.
Is this really happening?
Stone pulls a chair out, but just as I'm about to take a seat, he beats me to it, and my cheeks turn red.
Eep!
He laughs at my expression, and I make a face.
"You did that deliberately," I accuse him.
"Am I not allowed to tease my baby girl?"
Oh.
Stone then pats his lap. "Come here, princess."
My.
"It's time to let your sugar daddy spoil you."
God.
My head is back in the clouds as I allow my boss to take my hand and gently pull me down into his lap.
His thighs feel warm and hard under mine, and so is the wall of muscles pressed against my back. When Stone shifts in his seat, I stiffen and say uneasily, "If I'm too heavy—-"
He presses a finger over my lips, and I freeze.
"Just relax and let me spoil you."
Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD.
I belatedly notice what appears like a dinner feast already laid out on the table, and my toes curl hard as Stone proceeds to feeding me a slice of deliciously buttery fish topped with a generous amount of cheese.