I stared through the glass wall of the office at the harbor below, the lights from the tourist cruises dotting the dark water like fireflies. The usual clatter from the company was silenced and the floor deserted. I clutched a pile of file folders to my chest as a reminder of why I was in his office. The lamp on the desk beside me offered a small pool of light against the bulky shapes of office furniture and bookshelves. I heard the door shut behind me with a soft click and then caught a whiff of cologne. My skin twitched when Jai touched me, seconds before I heard his voice in my ear.
“Turn around,” he said with only a trace of an accent.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I grinned at the dark horizon. “Make me.”
He growled something incoherent and with one hand released the clip that held my chignon in place. His fingers scraped against my scalp as he grabbed a handful of my hair while his other hand slowly wandered down my ribcage to my waist. His fingers dug into my side as he pulled me against him, and I could feel his erection pressed against me through the fabric of my pencil skirt.
“Are you saying that you don’t want to look at me? I’m amenable to that.”
Jai pushed me towards the desk, and I stumbled in my heels, dropping the files to the floor so I could catch my balance. I heard the metallic clink of a belt being loosened and then a zipper sliding on its metal teeth. My heartbeat ratcheted up with anticipation.
I attempted to turn around then but he caught me with a fistful of hair. Slowly, inextricably, he pulled me to the desk, allowing me enough of an angle so that I could see his grin and the charcoal pinstripe of his designer suit with my peripheral vision. My palms were slick with sweat against the smooth wood, the buttons of my blouse poking into my sternum. My eyes fluttered shut when I felt his palm brush my thigh.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
I bit my lip and squirmed until my ass grazed his pants. He laughed and shifted his grip to the back of my neck. I had exactly three seconds to wonder what he was planning.
The sting of his hand against my ass stole my breath, but I welcomed the pain.
“Tell me.”
He yanked my skirt up and swung again. The force of his palm against my flesh inched my body along the desk.
“Say it.”
Another hit.
My panties were drenched, the warmth and pain of his hands driving my need. Drawing a deep breath through my nose, I shook my head and clamped my lips tight. I wanted to relish the power of withholding as long as possible. I waited for another blow but none was forthcoming. Instead he pulled down my underwear, his long fingers reaching for my swollen clit.
“You know what I can do to you,” he murmured, “what we can do together. Two words and you can have it all.”
His clever fingers stroked closer to the lips of my vagina.
“Say it or I leave you here.”
He held me like a butterfly pinned to a mat. In that critical moment of overwhelming desire and need, I craved both the reward and the pain. In the end, though, I always gave him what he wanted.
“I’m yours,” I whispered.
He laughed again, because he had never doubted it.
