Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Smack.
I gasp and list to the side automatically, but then I put myself back in position. I hold still for his punishment.
“Mm. I knew this ass would be spankable,” he rumbles.
He slaps the other cheek. Hard. I have to close my lips against the squeak that rises in my throat. Another slap, and another. It’s a little too much, but just when I’m about to protest, he starts rubbing my offended cheeks, massaging away the sting.
I pant, my pussy clenching, heart tapping out a rapid beat.
Tacone strokes down my hip until he reaches bare thigh. He starts to slide up my leg, under the uniform skirt, then stops, and pulls my dress hem lower. “You’d better get back to work before I take this way too far.”
Uhhh…what? I’m way too horned up to just pull my dress down and get back to work. In fact, the very idea of it pisses me off. If a female could get blue balls, I’d have them. My clit throbs, my nipples are hard, sensitive points.
I lift my torso and whirl around to confront him. Before I can speak, he catches me at the nape and holds me captive for a kiss. Hard lips twist over mine with a bruising intensity. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, nips it. His tongue sweeps between my lips.
I mewl and kiss him back, grateful for the desk supporting my ass, or I would fall down.
“Bellissima,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
No need, my wanton inner slut moans.
But with a pained look, he releases me and steps back. “Go on.” He turns me and smacks my ass in dismissal.
A storm of emotions flood through me—humiliation mingling with lust and turning into white hot anger.
Okay. He wants to toy with me?
Fine.
Two can play at this game.
Nico
I sit down at my desk and try not to watch the very turned on, angry woman strutting through my suite.
It seems I’m destined to be inappropriate with Sondra Simonson. Keeping my hands off her is an impossibility. I tried to stay away—Madonna, I did. But here she is, surrendering to me again with that same scared-but-turned on vibe that drives me crazy.
I never paid much attention to my thing for dominating women.
Oh, I like to be in charge—no doubt about that. But that just means I call the shots. It’s why I normally use professionals who do as I say without question. But none of them ever tremble and gasp like Sondra. None of them have had a genuine response to me. None of them flash that fury she just did for not following through.
If she only knew I’m trying to do a kindness by releasing her. I shouldn’t have spanked her in the first place.
But that ass!
That juicy, spankable ass.
And the adorable little sounds she made when I smacked it.
I give my cock a hard squeeze through my trousers and watch Sondra’s hips sway as she sashays past my door with a dust cloth. Her lips are swollen from our kiss. I still taste the sweetness of her on mine. Like strawberries and green tea. I want to taste her everywhere.
It was all I could do not to pull out my cock and give it to her hard and fast right here, over my desk. That will teach her not to spill coffee on my papers.
Fuck. I’m losing my mind.
One small part of me still worries she’s not legit. But she has to be. I researched the hell out of her. By all appearances, she’s an innocent, middle-class beauty from Marshall, Michigan. She was a straight A student who graduated magna cum laude from a small, private liberal arts college, and then went on to get a Master’s degree in art history from the University of Wisconsin. Her parents still live across the street from her cousin Corey’s mom. Now, Corey’s dad is a fed. That came out when we hired her. But she appears to be estranged. And she’s worked for us for almost a year without any suspicious behavior.
I couldn’t unearth a single lie or reason for concern about Sondra, unless I count her ex-boyfriend, who appears to be a small-time ecstasy dealer in Reno. But she did say she has bad taste in men.
Sondra positions herself at my bookcase, giving me a front row seat to her backside, which is so lovingly cupped by her uniform dress that I want to send a huge bonus to whoever on my team picked out that particular style.
She wiggles her ass as she flicks the dust cloth across the wood.
Oh God. Is she doing that on purpose?
She bends at the waist to dust the shelf in front of her. When she drops to her hands and knees and arches her back to dust the lowest one, I’m sure it’s all for me.