“There is nothing to feel bad about. I’m very pleased with you. Now I want to dress you in the softest of materials. I don’t like this rough stuff against your delicate skin. As your…”—he clears his throat—“boss, it’s my job to take care of you.”
“I think you have this whole thing backwards. I’m supposed to be doing things for you. I’m your assistant.”
“Your position doesn’t need a name. Besides, an assistant comes and goes, so that doesn’t really fit since you’re with me at all times.” His thumb brushes back and forth along my wrist, making it hard to think. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not used to someone touching me or if it’s him.
If I had to guess I’d say it’s him. It’s crazy how much I already crave his touch. Even when I’m asleep, I’m dreaming about it. “I like being with you,” I admit, leaning into him.
“And I enjoy taking care of you. Let me.” I’m not sure if he’s asking or telling me. Either way, I nod.
“Good girl,” he praises me before pressing his mouth against mine. I get lost in his kisses. Before I know it, we’re pulling up outside the club. He takes my hand, leading me inside. Everyone we pass turns to glance our way. Their eyes go wide when they see Devlin's fingers locked with mine. Even the girl on stage stops dancing for a second.
“Everyone is staring.” I wrap myself around his arm. It’s different from what I’m used to. No one ever notices me.
“They can look. Nothing more” is his only response.
I watch the beautiful blonde on stage start to dance again, luring back everyone’s attention except for Devlin’s. I want to dance for him. Would I be able to hold his attention? I know when I do have it I feel sexier and bolder. Is that the power he was speaking of earlier?
The music drops away when we enter his office, and he closes the door behind us. “You aren’t to leave this office without me at your side. Understood?”
I nod. “I’m not going to run.”
“You could try.” He smirks, giving me his dimple. “I’m not worried about you running, doll face. I’m worried about someone taking you from me.”
“Why would someone take me?” He doesn’t answer me. He only shakes his head, his smirk turning into a full-on smile.
“Will you dance for me?” He releases his hold on me.
“You want me to?” I lick my lips.
“I never ask for things I don’t want, doll face.” He walks behind his desk, grabbing his chair and pulling it out. He drops down into it. “And I want nothing more than to watch you dance for me. Only me.”
11
Devlin
I reach over and flip on the small speaker on my desk, allowing the club music to pulse into my office.
She was hired as a dancer, and I thought perhaps she was just trying it out, testing the waters to earn some good money.
But when she starts to dance, I realize she really is something special when it comes to the way she moves.
My cock is already at attention when she begins to sway her hips. Her hands run down her sides, and she closes her eyes as she molds herself to the sultry beat.
“Is this okay?” she asks shakily.
Does her dancing affect her the same as it does me? Because goddamn, I can’t decide if I want to watch her more or simply bend her over my desk. She’s got this way about her, like she’s molten glass, pouring and melting and flowing in total beauty.
“Don’t stop.” My voice is gravelly and tight, but it’s nothing compared to the tension wrapped up inside my body. I can’t take my eyes off her as she sways and twirls. “Strip for me, Diamond.”
She runs her fingers through her hair and drops low, her legs spreading as she bounces then whirls up again.
“Now,” I command.
Her cheeks flush a soft pink as her hands go to the buttons on her top.
I can’t look away. She’s a mesmerizing vision, her every movement like a stroke of a master painter’s brush.
When she pulls off her top, she keeps dancing, her thin bra doing nothing to conceal her hard nipples. Fuck, I need those in my mouth. I fist my hands, forcing myself to stay put.
“Bra off,” I grate.
She turns her back to me, her hips rolling, her round ass pressing against the thin fabric of her skirt. Snaking her hands behind her, she unfastens her bra and tosses it to the side.
“Turn around. I need to see those perfect tits.”
She doesn’t. Instead, she lowers the zipper on her skirt and lets it fall. She’s only wearing pink panties now, and I can bet they’re soaked. They should be on the floor, or in my mouth, or anywhere except hiding her pink slit from me.