Filthy Boss (4 page)

"Yes, Sir." She says in a voice that tells me she's still in the hum of her orgasm. It won't be her last. I take my time looking at her. Every part of her is beautiful, from her face to her breasts to her pussy, which is swollen and glistening and far too tempting.

"Alyssa." She looks at me, "Put your hands on me."

She does, and I don't even think she realizes that she's smiling. She wraps her fingers around me, and I close my eyes. The warmth spreading through her fingers is the best thing I've felt in a long time. The tips of her fingers run down my length and my muscles tighten.

She wraps both her hands around me and strokes me from base to tip, and I have to hold my breath. She does it again. Then with one hand and the other. Back and forth. Every stroke is bright like lightning, and I let my head fall back.

My hips are moving, my cock thrusting against her hands. My entire body is vibrating with pleasure, and I can feel my orgasm starting to rise. But that's not going to happen, not until Alyssa comes again. I grab her hands on my cock, slowing them down.

"I want to watch you come again." I say. "Touch yourself. Make yourself come." Her eyes widen, and I know she still thinks that this isn't real.  But she obeys, and the thrill of seeing her move on my command flies through me like adrenaline. "You’re not to make any noise."

She presses her lips together, and I smile. I have a feeling this is going to be a harder challenge for her than she thinks. I see her finger move inside myself and desire rolls through me. Everything in me wants to take her now, but not yet. I lean down and kiss her, feeling her arm move between us as she brings herself closer. I deepen the kiss and I hear a whimper from her. I'll let it go. This time.

I run my fingers along her sides, barely touching her skin and watching her shiver. I move to her breasts, teasing them with my fingers until her nipples are peaked through her bra. Finally, my fingers find her clit, swollen and slick, and I take my time massaging one side and then the other before moving down the center. She arches off the couch, her hand plunging deep inside herself.

The sight is too much. I take myself in my hand and begin to move, stroking hard and fast and bringing myself back to the edge. I find my rhythm and I'm there far too soon. Alyssa is panting, her other hand grasping against the sofa and I know she's close.

"Alyssa," I say, my voice is raspy with need. She looks at me, and I nod. "Come now."

I see her orgasm hit, her body shuddering, and her eyes closing as her fingers circle her clit over and over again. I can't hold myself back anymore, and my orgasm pulls itself up from deep inside me, and my entire body tightens with that lightning. I'm not in control anymore as it pulses through me again, and again, and again as I come across her chest and neck, coating her.

My heart is racing, and Alyssa is breathing just as heavily as I am. I lean forward and kiss her softly, then deeper. I take what I want from the kiss, and she gives it. A feeling deeper than desire opens inside my chest at her surrender.

Neither of us speak. Not until I help her to stand, help her re-tie her dress.

"Wow." She says.

"Better than a fantasy?"

"You have to ask?" She says, coming over to the desk.

I grab her underwear before she can reach for them. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Call it incentive."

"Incentive." She raises an eyebrow.

"That's right," I say, rounding the desk to stand in front of her. "This just happened. As amazing as it was, I don't really know what it is yet. Do you?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"So you'll get these back when you come to dinner with me tonight."

Her smile is soft and shy, everything opposite of what I just saw in her. "Fine. Incentive." She unlocks the door, and I could be imagining it, but I think the swing in her hips is deeper on purpose. Turning with a smirk she says, "Don't forget, accounting needs to speak with you."

I sigh.

T
his restaurant is probably not the place I would have picked. The price alone would kill my bank account. I mean, I'm making enough money, but this is
that
kind of restaurant. Entrees that are impossible to pronounce with tiny servings. The waiters are wearing suits for goodness sake. Of course Charles looks perfectly comfortable here.

I am squirming in my seat.

The lack of underwear isn't helping. He hasn't given them back yet. I clear my throat, "Mr. Saxon."

He smirks at me, "I think that after this afternoon you can call me by my first name. Or Sir, if you like."

I don't know what to say to him. In the hours that passed between the mind-blowing sex in his office and now, a bubbling anxiety has settled in my stomach. I was warned that he had a reputation for being both very promiscuous and very charming. I had fallen for it and now I was here letting him take me out so he could pretend I wasn't just another conquest.

Even if it was the best sex I've ever had, I can't believe I let it happen.

It's his turn to clear his throat. The awkwardness in the air is palpable. "Alyssa, are you alright?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

He's looking at me, and his gaze is entirely focused. I wasn't paying enough attention this afternoon to look at his eyes, but now I see they are a soft green, fading into brown. I feel like I could tell anything to those eyes. "What's wrong?"

I look away. "Today was...amazing. But it shouldn't have happened. I'm the one who said I wanted it to be professional, and I know I'm the one who crossed the line writing those stories. I shouldn't have let it go so far."

He opens his mouth to respond, but I don't let him. "I know that I'm not the first one to do this, and I know it's my fault. If this," I gesture around us, "is all to make me feel like I'm unique, then I really don't need it. It was my mistake, and I'll resign in the morning. I just hope you will give me a good reference."

Now he's staring at me like the cheese plate grew legs and crawled on top of my head. Then he looks at his watch. "It's been about seven hours. What happened? Where is all of this coming from?"

I shake my head, but he holds out a hand. "No. Wait. That's a very broad question. Okay. I'm going to ask you a couple of questions, and I want you to answer honestly. Then when we're done, you can decide if this is all for show. Does that sound good?"

I nod, and take a sip of the wine, fighting a shudder. I've never liked wine. I wish I did, but I never acquired the taste. Regardless, right now I need alcohol.

Charles leans forward on the elbows. "That night at the party you said I had a reputation and just now you said you know that you weren't the first. It seems clear that you think I have sex with all of my secretaries. Did someone tell you that?"

I roll the question through my mind. I don't want to get Jennifer in trouble, but I also just agreed to answer his questions as best I could. I settle for ambiguity. "Not explicitly. They said you had a reputation with women."

"Can you tell me who it was?"

I allow myself a small smile. "I plead the fifth."

"That's fair," He chuckles. "Okay, next question. Do you like working at my company?"

I sigh. "Yes I do."

"Then why are you going to resign?"

I take another sip of wine. Okay fine, I finished the glass. "Because resigning is better than being the girl who fucked the boss. You don't come back from that."

"Are you two ready to order?"

I startle as a tall waiter interrupts us. I hadn't even decided. I desperately look at the menu for something I think I'll like, and end up picking some sort of salad that says it has mandarin oranges in it. Charles orders something with duck. What I wouldn't give for some French fries and a milkshake right about now.

The waiter leaves and Charles turns his laser focus back to me. "Last question. Why do you think this was your mistake?"

"It is." I say, "If I hadn't been writing those stories at work, you would have never happened, and today would never have happened."

"Okay." He says, "Thanks for answering. Now will you let me offer some responses?"

The waiter left another glass of wine when he came to take our order, and I take full advantage. "Sure."

"I'm thirty-two. I got really lucky out of college working for my mentor Peter McLane. I knew I wanted to run some sort of business, but that's about all I knew. Peter taught me everything I know about hotels, and even though he tried, his company wasn't doing so well because of some decisions he made early on. When he died, he left the company to me and I had the opportunity to remake it under a new name and turn it around." Charles looks down and fiddles with his napkin. "I'm not telling you this to brag, I'm telling you that for the past ten years I've been so busy with my career that I've haven't had a long-term relationship since college. I also have never had sex—or anything else—with any of my secretaries, or anyone who works for me. Until now." His face is steely, daring me to challenge that truth.

I feel myself turning red in the face, mortified that I made an assumption. However, I've never met a man who looks like him that wouldn't live up to that assumption. I feel foolish. I don't say anything.

"I'm pretty sure I know who warned you about me. She's been trying to get me to sleep with her for years."

I nearly choke, "Really?"

"She hit on me after you left the party."

I realize I've outed Jennifer. "I didn't want to get her in trouble."

"She's not in trouble." He laughs, "because I already knew, and I'm never going to sleep with her."

The waiter arrives with our food. "That was fast, though I suppose the portion size makes it easy to prepare." I say, looking down at my salad-in-a-cup. The waiter glares at me as he walks away, and Charles starts laughing so loudly people in the restaurant turn and stare. Then I start laughing too.

It bubbles up from inside me like cool relief, and our laughter is so not dignified enough for this place.

"Alyssa," he says, getting a hold on his voice. "I don't want you to resign. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that party. I gave you professionalism because that's what you asked for, but I've never been so happy to not be professional. This isn't your fault at all. We were both there, we both decided. We could have stopped, but we didn't, and we did that together." He reaches across the table and takes my hand. The warmth of his fingers seeps into mine as he traces designs across them.

"I didn't bring you here to buy you off. I brought you here because in the week I've known you I've seen that you're sweet, hardworking, and beautiful. I don't know you very well, and I want to. I want you to keep your job, and I want to keep seeing you."

My heart is pounding in my chest. Wow. Words. You should respond with some sort of words. Speak. All I can do is smile.

"Oh," He says, giving me a grin inspired by the devil, "and there will be more sex in my office. That I can guarantee."

"Well," I say. "I can live with that."

"Good."

I look down at my salad again, "But if you really want to get to know me, for the love of god take me somewhere where I can get a burger and fries."

He laughs again, deep and full, the richness of his voice pulling at parts of me that are waking up again. He throws his hand up in the air and flags down the waiter. "Check please."

T
he diner is crowded and loud, and Alyssa is way more comfortable. I can tell from the way her body is relaxed, and the fact that she's smiling ear to ear while downing a milkshake. If I can see that smile every day, I'll be a happy man.

All those things she said, there has to be more to them. But now isn't the time of place to ask. She might not even know how strange it is to take that kind of burden on herself. It's not like she seduced me against my will. It's definitely something we'll have to talk about later. Preferably naked.

But now is first date time, so first date questions. "Why New York?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" She's distracted, chasing a chunk of Oreo at the bottom of her glass.

"I signed off on your resume, remember? You had a great job in L.A., and I'm pretty sure you were making more than you're making now. Why did you leave?"

She sighs, pushing away the glass. "I didn't leave, I was let go."

I freeze my face so my shock doesn't show. "I find that difficult to believe."

"I had a boss that was...difficult."

"In what way?" I steal a French fry from the left-overs on her plate.

"She's not a bad person, and she is really good at her job. She just views things a bit differently than I do."

I cover her hand with mine, making her look up at me. She'd been avoiding it. "I promise you can tell me."

"Fine." She huffs out a breath, "She was an unreasonable perfectionist. Even when I learned from my mistakes she never let them go. She never gave me the benefit of the doubt. Every mistake was my fault even if I wasn't the one who made it."

A light bulb goes off in my head about where her guilt issues might be coming from, but now still isn't the time.

"I worked there for three years, and she was still bringing up mistakes from when I was new. Finally, she said she had to let me go because my work wasn't good enough. On top of that she refused to give me a recommendation. I wanted to get away from L.A., and New York is pretty much the opposite without going to Amish countryside."

I laugh, "You'd look good in a bonnet."

"I would, but I could never do the country. Too much country growing up. I'm from Ohio."

"Wow."

She shakes her head, putting on a twang of the Midwest. "Yep. The buckeye state."

"Please don't ever do that again." I steal another fry, waiting for her to stop me. She doesn't.

She tosses back the last bits of her milkshake, and some spills on her dress. "Crap." She says, grabbing the napkin and using her water glass to help clean it. I should probably help, but all I can think about is how good she'd look soaking wet...and some interesting potential uses for ice.