Page 45 of The Boss Upstairs
I settle down at my desk, ready for the work day, and eager to see Weston. I now have my own key, and can let myself in in the morning. I kind of miss Mr. Boss Man greeting me at the door, but since he’s not always available, this makes more sense.
I’m smack in the middle of a new concept design. I’ve gone over a few, but they’ve all left me uninspired. I’m finding this project challenging because I care so much. I really want to do a good job.
“Hey, Grasshopper.”
I look up and leisurely give him the once-over. He looks fine in grey slim fitting khakis and a grey V neck tee.
I smile up at him. “Thank you for the lollipop bouquet.”
“How did you know it was from me?”
“Who else would it be from?”
He grins and inches closer. He studies the image on my screen and glances at the mess on my desk. “Can I see what you’ve got so far?”
I wince. “It’s not quite ready yet,” I admit.
He smiles. “I need those original concepts soon, Miss Morris. You’ve been here almost two weeks now.”
“I’ve been kind of distracted,” I point out, my tone flirtatious.
His grin is playful. “I think you might need to be disciplined, Miss Morris.”
My pussy instantly perks up. “Really?”
“In my office now.”
I practically bounce off my chair, all eager bunny. I’m not sure what his brand of discipline entails, but I’m pretty sure I’ll love it.
I’m breathless as I head to his desk, anticipating his next move.
“Come closer,” he says. So I do. I walk slowly to him until we’re about six inches apart. He stands tall over me, and his smile fades. He reaches for a lock of my hair and toys with it. He leans down, and his hot mouth presses against my cheek. I inhale the moment in, delighting in the sensation. He slides his mouth down toward my lips. He brushes gently over them, his light stubble soft against my skin.
“No kissing,” I remind him quietly.
His growl is buried into my skin. He slides his mouth down my neck, and I rake my hands through his soft hair. “Undo your buttons for me, sweetie,” he says softly.
I eagerly get to work on the buttons of my blouse, and he slides a hand up my pencil skirt. When I’m finally done, he smiles. “I don’t like this,” he says, staring down at my camisole. “Too many layers.”
I laugh and eagerly pull at my camisole, and I finally reveal my brassiere.
He traces the lace trim. “Beautiful.” He dips his head, and with a skillful hand, he frees my breast from its cup, and takes it in his hot mouth. He moans as he sucks my nipple and bites gently. The sensation goes straight to my sex, making me so wet.
This is pure torture. All of it. I want to take it further. But I don’t. I’m not ready to be with another man. I’ve never been with anyone but Donovan. It would feel like a betrayal. But when do I stop feeling like this? His death was my fault, and I don’t deserve a second of pleasure. I should be the one six feet under.
I push Weston away, and he eyes me with concern. “This hardly feels like being disciplined,” I tell him. “I’m enjoying it way too much.”
He laughs. “Yes, I apologize. I’ve kind of been sidetracked.”
“Yes, very much so, Mr. Hanson.”
“Turn around,” he commands, and I spin around like a ballerina.
“Press your hands flat on my desk.”
Again, I obediently do as I’m told. I’m loving every minute. I never realized I was so submissive before, but turns out I am. I enjoy every second. I love being under his control, at his mercy.
Once again, he grabs my hips forcefully and pulls me against him. My whole body dips down, and my face is pressed against the notebook on his desk.
