Page 12 of Leverage & Obedience

The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, grateful for the silence. My thighs press together as I remember “good girl” on the speakerphone. He had his finger inside me at my own desk, and he didn’t say anything to me when I walked past his office.

As the elevator drops, I think about him losing his wife. The version of him I’ve been carrying around in my head and the man I’ve been kneeling for is a stranger. I’m aching and cranky. I don’t know if I want to slap him or be back on my knees for him at 9 a.m. tomorrow. I don’t know which would feel better.

Chapter 4

I’m on my knees again.

The crankiness I walked out of this building with last Wednesday lasted until Thursday at 10:15. Two orgasms before lunch will fix most things.

Now, two weeks in, kneeling for Bren looks different on me. The first time, I was a temp playing at being a slut. Now I’m the slut playing at being a temp.

I’m in his locked office between his thighs with my hands on his shaft, exactly where I want to be at 3:00 on a Monday afternoon.

Loan schedules are the last thing on my mind, and all I can think about is his cock.

Mmm, I’ll never get used to the sight of the thick upward curve and the veins I have spent two weeks getting to know with my tongue. He’s already throbbing, which does something stupid to my ego. I wrap one hand around the base as I stroke him.

His fingers grip the armrest, and his voice is strained. “You look pleased with yourself.”

“I am.” I lean forward and press my lips against the underside of his shaft, dragging them from base to tip. His rough exhale sends a zing of pleasure straight to my clit. The man who runs a debt firm cannot keep his breathing steady, and yeah, that’s power.

I swirl my tongue around the head, enjoying his taste, before engulfing the tip. His cock fills my mouth, and I moan around him. The vibration makes his hips twitch. His hand settles at the back of my head, and I know at some point he won’t be able to stop himself from using it to guide me.

I work him with my mouth and hand. Long, deep strokes followed by shorter pulls where I suck hard on the head and flick my tongue against the ridge underneath. His fingers tighten in my hair as his thighs tense. I trace the veins with my tongue. When I hollow my cheeks and suck hard, his low groan makes me want to cheer.

I pull off long enough to look up at him. “You can have any hole you want, Sir.” I kiss to the underside of his shaft. “Pick one.”

I don’t give him time to react before his cock is back in my mouth. Within a couple more strokes, he pulls on my hair.

“Lily. Stop.”

Dangit, I wanted my reward. I pull off and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. His eyes glitter with lust. His control is fraying. I rest back on my knees with my hands resting on my thighs. Waiting.

He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a black silk strip.

A blindfold. My pulse kicks up, and the increased wetness between my legs says my body is agreeing before I can think, which is becoming a pattern.

I’ve only played with blindfolds twice before, and both times, I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I should probably tell him this, but I don’t want to. It’s just a blindfold, and I never could figure out why I wasn’t sure about it.

He rises, and I tilt my head back to look up at him.

“Stand up.”

I get up on shaky legs, and he guides me until I’m facing his desk. His fingers gather my curls and sweep them over one shoulder, his knuckles against my neck making me shiver.

“Color?”

“Green. I’m not scared of a blindfold.” My tone is snarky. I’m playing at a bratty edge I don’t entirely feel.

“I didn’t ask if you were scared. I asked for your color.”

That shuts me up.

The silk slides over my eyes, smooth against my temples. He ties it behind my head and adjusts the fit. When his hands drop away, I’m standing in darkness. How did he get this to block out almost all the light? I resist the urge to push it up to verify the lights are actually on.

Not being able to see him makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been watching him for two weeks and using his facial expressions to gauge if he likes what I’m doing. Now, I only have his breathing behind me and the cold edge of the desk against my hips.

The brat in me disappears. I can’t brat at a man I can’t see.