Taken by the Boss

TAKEN BY THE BOSS

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you lately, Isabelle, but your work is suffering.”

I look up as a manila folder lands in front of my face. The seductive scent of sandalwood flows around me and I know who it is before I look up. My boss, Sebastian Grey, is standing in front of my desk with his arms crossed.

Damn, he looks pissed.

I close my eyes. This isn’t looking good for six-thirty on a Friday evening.

“What do you mean, Mr. Grey? I separated the data by year and subcategorized by the type of unit, just as you asked. Residential, commercial, mixed-use…” I can barely continue. My boss, the enigmatic Mr. Grey, has a peculiar effect on me. Around him I instantly lose my powers of speech, hearing and comprehension. I become a big bundle of nerves. Nerves with very wet panties.

“Yes, Isabelle, I see that. But several columns are still missing. I need the current owners of the land parcels and the asking price. I’ll need this on my desk by morning.” His voice lowers with each sentence until he’s almost whispering. My body reacts as if he’s whispering in my ear instead of chastising me. Then his words sink in and I look up in alarm.

“But… But I have plans tonight,” I stammer. My on-again, off-again, sometimes-boyfriend, a lawyer on the partner track, has finally gotten a night off work. I’ve been horny for ages and I actually have a chance to get some and he wants me to work late?

“Going out with your boyfriend?” He practically sneers the word.

He’s only met Evan once but the two took an instant dislike to each other. I’ve never understood why. Most people adore Evan with his ready wit and easy charm.

“That’ll have to wait. This is top priority. Overtime is part of your job description, Ms. Wells.”

I slump down in my seat and nod. “Of course, sir.”

His eyes glitter in triumph. “Very well, then.” He stands watching me for a minute before he turns and strides into his office.

As soon as he’s gone I stick my tongue out. The childish act gives me little relief as I type out a quick text to Evan. The worst part is that I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably be relieved. The next time I complain about his long hours, he’ll be sure to throw this in my face.

“I’m never getting laid again,” I mutter.

“What was that, Isabelle?”

I jump at the unexpected voice behind me. I swivel in my office chair to see Sebastian standing behind me. He’s changed clothes and is wearing all black. The suit looks like Hugo Boss and fits him perfectly.

“Did you need something, Mr. Grey?”

His eyes narrow. “I’ve told you a million times to call me Sebastian. Are you trying to make me feel old?”

“No, sir.” I look down at my hands, unnerved by the sudden blush that races across my face and neck. I cannot tell him the real reason I avoid saying his name, of course. I can’t tell him that saying his name, Sebastian, reminds me of all the times I’ve masturbated to thoughts of him. It reminds me of all the times I’ve screamed it out in my empty apartment, my pussy creaming all over my hand as I come thinking of him.

So I simply say, “Just trying to be professional, sir. Are you leaving for the night?”

He nods and turns to go. “Yes, I have tickets to the symphony. Don’t forget. I need that report completed right away.”

His footsteps echo down the hall and then a minute later I hear the telltale
ding
of the elevator. I lean back in my seat with a prolonged sigh.

Another late night working on the same stupid report.

I glare at the manila folder on my desk before snatching it up and pulling out the report I submitted to him that morning. It’s covered in red marks and I shake my head. It’s ridiculous to feel offended at the way he writes all over my work but it seems so elementary. So
unnecessary
. Especially since, wait, no it can’t be…

I root around in the bottom of my desk drawer for the photocopy of the last report I turned in. He doesn’t know that I photocopy everything before I submit it. I glance over the prior incarnation of this same report to see that, yes, the changes he’s asking for now are the very same ones he had me remove a few days ago.

Bastard
.

I throw the report down on my desk and lean back in my chair. I’m angry but I’m also perplexed. Sebastian Grey isn’t the type of man to do anything without a good reason. I can’t imagine that he has nothing better to do than jerk his assistant around. At only twenty-eight, he’s one of the youngest venture capitalists in the business world. He’s been profiled in every major magazine and is regularly photographed with celebrities. People far more interesting than me.

So why play games?

Maybe he just wanted to ruin your evening? You know how these brilliant types are… He’s probably socially awkward and hasn’t been laid in years. Wants to ruin your fun.

Even though my inner voice is being bitchy, she does have a point. Sebastian is rarely seen with a date and most people assume he’s gay. He’s definitely antisocial. So maybe he does get his kicks playing games with his staff. But for some reason, this explanation doesn’t sit right with me.

Well, whatever the case, I am not uber-rich like Mr. Sebastian
fucking
Grey, so if I want to receive a paycheck next week then I have to dance to his tune. I shake my mouse to wake up my computer. Luckily, I saved one of the prior drafts of this report in my personal folder so it doesn’t take me long to update it. I print out the report and then walk to his office.

The door is partially open and gives an extended whine as it swings open. It’s weird being in here when he’s gone but it’s still impossible not to react to the sumptuous layout of his office. It’s bigger than my apartment and decorated like a living room in one corner, with a black leather couch, a coffee table and two chairs. I know there’s a bathroom in here somewhere, too, because I’ve seen him emerge from his office freshly showered, his dark hair still wet behind the ears.

Just another image I use to get off to when I’m home alone.

I slap the report down in his inbox and turn to go, then stop when my gaze falls on his desk chair. My breathing speeds up as I remember the dream I had last night. I drifted to sleep, fingering my pussy and thinking of Sebastian. I dreamed I was in his chair,
this
chair, legs spread wide and propped up on the desk as he knelt in front of me and tongue-fucked me.

My feet move of their own accord toward the chair. I am panting, almost out of breath when I finally stop directly in front of it. I glance behind me, as if the very act of being in his office might summon him. Then a smile spreads across my face. He might have ruined my original plans for the evening but this will make it worth my while. He’ll never know about my nocturnal adventure in his office and it will go a long way toward easing my raging sexual frustration since I won’t be getting any tonight.

I sit in the chair and lean back, the supple leather conforming to the sides of my body.
Damn
. This is nothing like the cheap polyurethane crap I’m sitting on every day. It feels like being held by a lover. In a bold move, I raise one leg and prop it on the desk. I close my eyes and lay my head against the back of the seat. In this position my skirt rides all the way up my thighs. I reach down and touch the thin silk of my panties, the only thing keeping my pussy from making contact with the leather of the chair. I chuckle at the thought. Then I look down to where my scantily clad bottom rests on Sebastian Grey’s chair. This is where he sits
every day
. My pussy throbs at the thought.

I reach down and trail my hand down the inside of my thigh.
It’s now or never
, I think. I pull my panties to the side and plunge two fingers in my pussy.

I come almost instantly.

“Oh yes, god yes,” I murmur, pumping my fingers in and out before pulling out to circle and pinch my clit. It feels so good so I alternate a few times.

Plunge, pump, pump, circle, circle, pinch, repeat.

The angle is perfect with my leg cocked up on the desk. I plunge my fingers deeper, imagining it’s Sebastian’s cock, taking me hard and fast. My dreams of him are always of hot, fast encounters where he bends me over and fucks me so hard I can almost taste it. In my dreams, he holds my legs back or hooks them over his shoulders so my pussy is completely open, completely ready for whatever he dishes out. I whimper, imagining his cock tunneling into my body, covered in slick cream every time he pulls out.

Just the thought of him fucking me gets me
so
hot.

I stretch my legs wider, completely caught up in my fantasy. The stretch intensifies the sensations, so every slide of my fingers through my pussy lips feels even better. I’m so wet I can hear it as I pump away. I introduce a third finger and it feels so good, I cry out.

“Yes, Sebastian. Sebastian!”

A second later, my hand is pulled from my body. I open my eyes in surprise and shriek. “Mr. Grey!”

He pulls my leg off the desk and curls it over his arms. “I was Sebastian a minute ago, wasn’t I?”

“Mr. Grey, I know I shouldn’t have come in here,” I gasp and try to pull my leg back but he clamps his arm over it, holding me in place. I’m mortified but even my horror can’t erase the intense arousal I feel. I was on the edge of a colossal climax a few minutes ago and it hasn’t really receded. It’s hovering, waiting to swamp me with a deluge of sensation at any moment.

“No, you shouldn’t have, Isabelle. But you’re here and you’re for damn sure going to say my name.”

He thrusts two fingers into my eager, wet body and I can’t help it, I scream.

“Oh my god. Sebastian. Sebastian!” My pussy clamps down on his fingers as I come. Hard. It feels like my pussy is having a seizure as it clings to his fingers, squeezing him so hard it’ll be a wonder if his hand doesn’t go numb.

His eyes drift closed and he growls. “Fuck yes, say it. Say my name.” He’s all in my face now, dark eyes glittering as he watches me take every rough plunge of his fingers. He’s as talented at this as he is in everything else. He knows exactly how to stroke, his thumb rubbing up against my clit, prolonging the pleasure. Then he kisses me and I’m done for, any resistance I might have had dissolving as his tongue mirrors the action of his fingers.

I am coming apart in his arms.

A few moments later, when I can finally catch my breath again, the embarrassment returns. He pulls back and crouches at my feet, watching me from slitted eyes.

I have no idea what to say.
Sorry about finger-fucking myself in your office chair?
Not sure that would help.

“Your behavior lately has been unacceptable, Isabelle.” His voice is soft, seductive.

I look up with wide eyes. It seems as though he’s waiting for a response, so I nod quickly. “Yes, yes sir. I know.”

He chuckles, a dark sound that skitters over my nerves and causes my pussy to cream anew. “You have no idea.” He stands suddenly and then comes behind the desk chair. “Get up.”

I jump up and hastily straighten my skirt. I step from behind the desk. “I really am very sorry, sir. I’ll just collect my things…”

He walks around the desk until he stands in front of me. “I didn’t tell you to leave. I said to get up. I just found you touching your pussy in my chair. Did you think you were going to just walk out of here?”

All the blood drains from my face. He was laughing before, so yeah, I kind of did think he was going to let me walk out, no harm done. He’d seemed like he thought it was hot when he was touching me? I back up until my legs hit the back of the desk.

He follows until we’re nose to nose. “You’ve worked for me almost six months now, Isabelle. Do I strike you as the sort of man who allows insubordination to go unchecked?”

“No, sir.” I breathe. God, he’s so sexy I can barely concentrate. His dark eyes are running over my body, lingering on the neckline of my blouse before he continues down to where my skirt is still slightly hitched up.

“That’s because I believe in discipline. Turn around.”

I’m so startled that I just turn without stopping to think. I gasp when his arms encircle me from behind and begin unbuttoning my blouse. I allow him to slip it off my arms and then next, my bra. I’m now naked from the waist up.

A heavy hand lands on the center of my back, pushing until I’m bending over the desk. My ass pokes out and I hear his sudden intake of breath. Then he pushes my skirt up over my ass. The cool air in the room brushes over my ass cheeks exposed by my thong.

“Sir? What are you doing?”

He runs a gentle finger over the curve of my back leading to my ass. It’s such a shock, a far cry from what I was expecting. Then he leans over me, his muscular chest bracketing my body.

“Do you think people should be punished when they do bad things, Isabelle? Because if you don’t then I’ll stop now and you can walk away.”