Chapter 8
8
Ethan
I should’ve known better.
Should’ve guessed from the sparkled determination in her eye once we were done with a client meeting on Friday afternoon and I had an unusual lull in my schedule that Pia would find a way to fill it.
The way she’d done all week, firing questions that made me marvel at her intelligence.
Maggie left fifteen minutes ago for a dentist appointment and I look up from the file I’m reviewing to find Pia watching me. “Something on your mind?”
She hesitates, then nods. “ Oui … yes.”
The French should’ve given me the first inkling. “Go on. Shoot.”
“All week, I thought about what you said about that video we talked about last weekend? I… watched it again. Last night. For research.”
Sweet Holy Mary . I clear my throat, unable to shake the image of Pia watching porn in her bed.
“So… you watched it. And what? You think you want that?” Way to go, Ethan. Great job jumping off topic.
She shrugs. “I don’t know if I want my derriere to be spanked. The woman in the video… hers went all red and she screamed but she…”
She hesitates.
“She what?” My voice sounds like ground gravel and I’m so hard I’m going to explode all over myself in a minute. But I can’t look away from her. From that face and that mouth spewing dirty fantasies I have no right to make her repeat. No right at all.
And yet… file forgotten… I’m as eager as a horny schoolboy.
“In the video she seemed to like it. And she begged for more.”
“And… how did that make you feel?” Jesus. Stop.
I’ve hit klaxon levels on the pervert scales and the needle is quivering, ready to disintegrate. But I want… no, I need to hear her answer.
Why? The voice in my head wails. Because it will solve world peace? Because the global climate crisis depends on it?
I run my finger under my collar and shift in my chair. Watch a blush turn her face cherry-red.
I follow that blush like my life depends on it. Watch it spread beneath her collarbone and I’m dying. Dying to stagger over to her, lift her shirt, and follow the blush with my tongue.
“I got… I got a little hot.”
Yeah, and my name is Saint Peter. “Just a little?” I don’t hide my skepticism.
Her color deepens and I can’t hold back a groan. She jumps a little and shakes her head. “Maybe not a little. I got a lot hot.”
We’re doing this. Might as well go for broke. “Where, Pia? Where did you get hot?”
Her nostrils quiver as she snatches a breath. “Umm… down there.”
Okay. Enough. She’s your intern. You’re at work. Anyone can walk past. You’re supposed to be looking after her, not making her confess her dirty thoughts!
I step back from the edge, having had a first-hand experience of what it feels like to come close to dying from blue balls. I swipe at the sweat trickling down the back of my neck and take a deep breath.
“That… umm, that was a natural reaction to stimulation. But that’s the wrong kind of stimulation.”
She frowns. “But if it’s a natural reaction, why is it wrong?”
Fuck. Good point. “Because like you said, you don’t think you’ll like being… umm, spanked on the butt. Some people find that… they don’t like that.”
But a whole load of others do. And some perverts, like me, love watching a woman’s ass turn red with a good spanking.
Holy shit, I’m going straight to hell.
Her frown deepens. “But… she was screaming for more.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
But my dick continues to strain, yelling to be let free. To show this deliciously innocent, aggravatingly juicy girl what it means to stand in front of a horny, sex-deprived dude, spewing scenarios that would make a saint succumb to sin. “Because she was performing for the camera, Pia. She’s an actress earning a living. She puts on a show for others.”
“Oh. So… like no one else outside of that line of work enjoys having their butt spanked?”
“Jesus…”
Having my suspicions that Pia is untouched is a good thing. It fuels the reasoning that I should stay far, far away from her.
And her curiosity is a good thing too, I tell myself.
As much as it’s killing me, I’m glad she came to me rather than some jerk like Harry or even an asshole like Oswald, who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of her innocence.
Still, I’ve never been this hard. Never.
I look at her. She’s wide-eyed, eagerly awaiting my answer, fucking clueless as to what it’s doing to me.
The thought of someone else being in this position makes me want to?—
“Ethan!”
I jerk into focus. “What?”
“Your file. You’re ripping it.”
I look down and curse under my breath. The file I should be working on is bent under the force of my fury, several papers ripped. Thankfully, they’re not original. I can?—
I stop breathing when her hand falls over mine. I look up into her gorgeous blue eyes.
“Here, let me fix it for you,” she murmurs, and I stifle another groan.
I want to shout that yes, she can drop to her knees right now and fix everything with a couple of hard pumps of her soft hand. Maybe a suck or two between those red lips. That’s all it would take to?—
“I can make new copies for you if you like.”
I nod dumbly, her scent and touch making me lose what little there is of my brainpower.
“You’re going to have to let go, Ethan,” she says with the cutest little smile.
I release my hold on the file but don’t move my hand.
She’s touching me and I enjoy her hand on mine a little too much. With another dimpled smile, she maneuvers the file from under my hand and hugs it to her chest. “I’ll get it done right away.”
“Thanks,” I manage.
She nods and hurries to the door.
My eyes fall to her butt. The butt she’s been talking about having spanked.
Fuck, it’s so juicy. It bounces beneath her light cotton dress and I drop my hand to my crotch to squeeze my desperate dick.
I manage to shift my gaze a nanosecond before she turns around, still hugging my file to her chest.
“Can we finish talking about it later, when we get home maybe?”
I open my mouth to tell her there will be no more discussion about getting spanked. But this sweet girl is feverishly curious. If she doesn’t get the information she needs from me, she might resort to other means.
Ask other men.
And I will burn the whole fucking world down before I let that happen. So…
“Sure, Pia. We’ll talk some more tonight,” I reply, already terrified at my impending torment.
Both dimples swing into view again and I stifle a groan. “Thanks, Ethan. You’re the best.”
Christ, I’m not. I’m most definitely not.
Because I spend the next two hours imagining the thousand different ways I spank Pia’s ass while calling her my cum-slut. Or any of the filthy words that rush readily to my lips every time I think about her.
Which is every other second.
She’s my intern. She’s here to learn.
Sure, that isn’t meant to include sex education, but it’s evident she’s so deplorably lacking in that area, I want to track down her teachers in that fancy school she was cloistered in and give them a very big piece of my mind.
But it’s okay. She has me now.
Nevertheless, I shudder through what is ahead of me when we get home.
The thought is both terrifying and reassuring.
Resolute, I pick up my briefcase at six-thirty.
My strong work ethic is well-established enough for me not to get any raised eyebrows about leaving this early. And really, I’ll get more done from home between now and tomorrow morning than every last one of my staff.
Still, I don’t miss the surprised looks when I stop in front of Pia’s tiny cubicle in the large open-plan area where the interns sit with the first-years and paralegals.
While I wait for her to gather her things, I do a headcount on the male-to-female ratio, and by the time I hit twenty-five males of the former and just nine of the latter, my anger is rising again.
Not only is there a glaring bias in the male-to-female ratios, my sweet, innocent Pia is working in a seething pool of testosterone, most of whom follow her with their eyes when she stands and walks toward me.
First off, she’s not your sweet innocent anything.
I grit my teeth as the internal battle rages.
She’s my responsibility. At least for the next few months.
I ignore my gut clenching at the thought of what happens after those months.
“I’m ready!” She beams at me.
But I’m more interested in the number of male eyes that swivel her way when she stands from her cubicle.
More eyes track her as she steps up next to me.
My grip tightens on the handle of my briefcase and I don’t stop myself from glaring at them until they avert their eyes.
The number of good-natured “see you tomorrows” thrown at her tells me she’s well-liked in the department.
But the male interest still bothers me long after we’ve left.