Page 5 of Leverage & Obedience

“Good girl.”

I freeze. My gaze darts around the open office—no one is looking—but my heart hammers anyway. The light on the phone clicks off. Ten minutes ago, he had his cock between my tits. Now he’s making sure I eat.

I rip open the package with a shaky laugh. This is my favorite type, and there’s no way he could have known. My chest goes warm, and I tell myself not to read anything into it as I take a bite of the protein bar. It’s just fun.

The clock reads 10:42. He didn’t say which hole, and I let my imagination run through the contenders. He has two and a half hours to pick a winner.

Chapter 2

It’s 1:05, and my panties are a lost cause. He hasn’t summoned me.

I’m summoning myself.

His door is open, and he’s behind his desk, reading his laptop screen. He doesn’t look up when I knock. I stand there.

When his eyes finally lift, they travel up slowly, from my heels to the coffee-stained blouse. My pulse spikes.

“Close the door and lock it.”

Wetness slicks my inner thigh while I secure the door.

“Strip.”

“No foreplay first, Mr. Harrison? Just business?” I tilt my head, but my hands are already at the top button of my blouse, betraying me. The slut in me has been running this show since lunch. My hands are just the staff. I slip each button free, and his gaze tracks every inch of skin the fabric uncovers. My bra opens, and my breasts spill into the cool office air, nipples already aching since 9 a.m.

I shimmy my skirt down my hips, taking my panties with it, and step out of the puddle of fabric in my heels. His eyes roam over me, and the hunger in them makes me flush.

“You wore the coffee-stained blouse all morning?” There’s amusement in his voice.

I lift my chin. “It’s not like I brought a change of clothes. And you’re going to fuck me no matter what I’m wearing.”

His lips twitch. “Bend over the desk.”

A smartass comment forms and dies in my mouth as I plant my forearms on the wood and tip my ass up. The wood is cool against my heated skin. He moves behind me, and I spread my legs wider for him. If this man wants a show, I’m giving him one.

His warm hand lands on my ass—a slow caress over one cheek, then the other, and the gentleness surprises me. His desk smells of lemon cleaner. Did he clean the desk for me? The idea that I’ve been added to his to-do list thrills me.

Then he spanks me.

The sting blooms into heat and rushes to my clit. I gasp, hips jerking forward.

“That’s all you’ve got?” The words pop out before I can stop them. Antagonizing a man who has me bent over his desk is either brave or stupid. Both turn me on.

I hear the grin in his voice. “Careful what you ask for.”

The next one is harder. The crack echoes off the office walls. I press my mouth to my arm, but a whimper escapes anyway. He spanks me three more times, alternating cheeks, until heat blooms across my ass. Then his hand slides between my legs, and he pushes his fingers inside me.

Holy hell. I moan in pleasure as he alternates between finger-fucking me and pulling out to spank me. A fuzziness steals over me with each slap and thrust. I’m trembling and panting, unable to decide whether to push back into his hand or away.

“You like being a bad girl, don’t you?” His voice is rough. “You’re soaking wet from the spanking.”

“Yes,” I gasp. There’s no point in denying it. The evidence is coating his fingers.

He spanks me once more—hard enough that I cry out—and then he kneels.

What the—

His mouth is on me, his tongue dragging through my folds in one long stroke. Sparks of pleasure race through my body, and my elbows nearly give out. I didn’t expect this. He could be doing anything to me, and he chose this.