10. Rian
Ten
Rian
“Yes,” I bite out, not lifting my gaze from the screen as I hear the door open.
“The O’Toole contract, sir.”
Catriona’s words are so frosty, they chill the room.
Yet my body heat soars at how she addressed me.
I glance up. There’s none of the admiration and kindness left on Catriona’s features.
None of the earlier warmth that sparked pride in my work for the first time in six months.
But that pride was quickly overshadowed by a cloud so dark I choked on it.
Why can’t my father see that I’m wasted on small contracts like this?
Why is all he sees failure and disappointment?
Am I supposed to keep my life on hold and take whatever scraps he gives me to work on?
Am I not even allowed to flirt with other women while I wait for Alexandra?
I fucking hate my life, and when Catriona looked up at me with praise in her eyes, I was reminded that Dad thinks I’m a loser.
I didn’t want Catriona’s praise. The heat in her gaze was snuffed out by my dismissal.
All that is left are ice crystals so sharp they’re cutting my gut wide open.
In place of Catriona’s admiration, I now have a so-called date with a twenty-year-old annoying wannabe.
A woman who is only a few years younger than Catriona, yet light years apart in maturity… and dress sense.
I track down Catriona’s body, her unfitting cover-up.
God, I hate how she dresses. And I hate even more that I’m obsessed with it.
She stands so tall and proud, radiating her dislike for me with her hair in that annoying tight bun.
The memory of how soft her voice was when complimenting me fades as I look at the hard and unyielding tilt of her chin. I’m barely able to suppress a sneer.
“The O’Toole contract, I want it re-negotiated by the end of next week.”
She does a quiet huff, and the disdain on her face makes the nerve below my eye tick.
“That’s impossible. This is one of the largest properties in our portfolio, and they have both manual and IT surveillance.
We’ll need at least two weeks to go through all the details.
We’ll also have to arrange meetings with the O’Toole group to agree on what areas need focus and walkabouts of the premises. This takes time.”
She’s right, but I’m annoyed by my father’s constant nagging and want to show him I’m proactive.
I want him to praise me like Catriona did.
“I’ve already arranged with Bobby O’Toole to bring a small team over on Saturday afternoon after their store is closed. Consider your weekend booked.”
Catriona’s face falls just a little before she shields it. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t work this Saturday. I have plans.”
“Oh, and what are they? Going for a run in the park? Watching repeats of Friends?”
Catriona straightens her back, her knuckles gripping the contract turn white. “It doesn’t matter what my plans are—”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. I simply don’t care what your plans are,” I continue mockingly and lean back in my chair. “I need you to work this Saturday. End of conversation.”
“End of conversation my arse! I have plans!” she practically yells.
“Well, consider your plans cancelled!”
“You can’t do this! You can’t order me to work this weekend! The O’Toole contract isn’t up for renewal for…” Her accent has broadened and she frantically flips through the file. “Another two months! What’s the rush?”
What on earth does she have planned that’s so important? She never usually has any problems prioritising work over her private life – or lack thereof. Hell, didn’t she do a thirteen-hour shift just yesterday?
It hits me like a bolt of ice-cold lightning.
She has a date!
That has to be it. My jaw clenches. How dare she have a date when all I can think about is her?
She’s planning hook-ups with other men while I fantasise about her hideous work suits?
Yeah, I may have been at a sex club last night and asked a coworker out this very afternoon.
But still, those things were done with Catriona on my mind.
There’s no emotional investment, whereas this date clearly means something to Catriona.
Dark energy prickles my scalp. Can this day get any worse?
I take a deep breath through my nose, place my palms flat on my desk, and slowly rise from my chair, unable to stand being confined behind it. Her eyes widen as I stalk around the desk.
“You will be here this Saturday.”
“No, I will not,” she bites back, jutting her chin out. But the way her eyes flick between mine shows her confidence is wavering. A tiny show of weakness that fuels my fire. Heat ripples through my gut.
“I’ve warned you…warned you what happens to girls who fight me.” My tone is low and threatening as I tower over her.
Her lips part. She knows…knows what I’m talking about. “Do your worst, Mr Kearney,” she hisses.
My pulse picks up, and I grin menacingly. “You can’t handle my worst.”
“Try me.” There’s a hitch in her breath. She should run, but instead she stands there so tall and proud with stubborn fury written into her every feature.
I back away from her and want to laugh as her face falls in disappointment. It’s followed by a slight gasp, almost inaudible, as I lock the door behind me. Locking us in.
What the hell am I doing? Open the fucking door and tell her to leave!
But it has gone too far. The blood is boiling in my veins and my tunnel vision has a singular focus.
Catriona. Who is standing there, clutching the O’Toole file as if it’s a life raft.
She’s trying to keep her composure, to still be in control.
I move towards her, like a panther approaching its prey.
“I told you. You need to be taught some manners.”
My voice is low and dark, revealing the passion underneath. I’m only a couple of feet from her, and she takes a nervous step back. Then another one. I match her steps, and then I have her where I want her – trapped between me and the desk. I take the file from her and drop it on the desk.
“A-and I told you, you’re a neanderthal.”
Leaning in, but without touching her, I whisper in her ear, “What did I say would happen to girls who disobey me?” I inhale her sweet scent as I run the tip of my nose down her neck.
Her skin breaks out in goosebumps and her chest heaves with her sharp intake of breath. “They get their little arses spanked…”
She grabs the edge of my desk. “Y-you’ve got to be kidding.” It’s the tone of her voice – the edge of curiosity under the anger. Fuck if it doesn’t turn me on.
“Are you disobeying me?” She doesn’t answer. I lift one eyebrow, and my lips curl. Her gaze drops to my mouth before quickly snapping back up. “You’ve got a choice, Miss Taylor. You can be a good girl and tell me you’re sorry… Or you can turn around, lean over the desk…and take your punishment.”
She swallows, her eyes wide and wild – full of frustration and maybe even confusion. And behind that, raw lust.
Her mouth opens. “I—I…”
I cock my head to the side. “Well, what will it be? Apology? Or punishment?”
“I…” She licks her lips. My pulse hammers as I wait for her to continue, to say she’s sorry. She doesn’t.
She turns.
She’s chosen punishment!
Heat explodes behind my abs. The strands of hair that have come loose from her bun dance as I try to steady my breath. She turned around! My mouth’s gone dry and my trousers uncomfortably tight.
Catriona startles as I place my hands on her hips.
Ever so slowly, I reach around to her front, undoing the belt of her trousers.
She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t scream or move.
The thin shoulder pads of her jacket rise with each unsteady inhale as I unbutton her trousers.
Then I pull the zip down, one tooth at a time.
I am undressing Catriona in my office.
The soft sound of the trousers hitting the floor echoes between the walls. My gaze follows the trail of the trousers.
Long, toned legs. Flawless, pale skin. They would look perfect with rope digging into the flesh. Binding her, restricting her. Not today. I place my hand on Catriona’s lower back and her body shivers as I do so.
“Are you ready to be taught some manners, hm?” I murmur in her ear. “Get your naughty little arse spanked?”
A few beats pass, and then I hear it. Her faint voice makes my hard cock twitch.
“Yes.”
“Bend over.” I put light pressure on her back. She tries to fight it, tries to fight giving up control. “Relax, let go,” I whisper.
Her shoulders drop marginally. A rumble sounds from deep in my chest as she slowly bends at the hip and leans over the desk.
Her jacket and shirt ride up her back and her perfectly formed bum juts out.
I close my eyes, but only for a quick moment.
Fuck, what a sight. White cotton underwear with some lace trimmings slip in between the cheeks.
Not too revealing, not too innocent. I lick my lips and fight the temptation to sink down on my knees and kiss her where the cotton covers her plump sex.
I shift to her side and rest one hand on her lower back. She whimpers as my other hand slowly moves from one hip to the other, tracing the shape of her soft cheeks. Her exposed skin is smooth under my fingers. What I wouldn’t do to unzip my trousers and let my aching cock free.
“How many spanks do you deserve for your disobedience?” I continue caressing her cheeks as her body trembles with each breath. Her lean calf and hamstring muscles tense. “I think twelve would be enough to teach you a lesson. What do you think?”
I stop my movement on her right cheek, waiting. Waiting.
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” I mumble, a last warning before I lift my hand.
I slap down on her right cheek – not too hard, just enough to sting a little.
She gasps out loud. I slap her other cheek and revel in the sight of pink spreading on her skin.
The sting in my palm is pure pleasure. I give two more spanks and then gently caress her behind, mixing her pain with tenderness.
“That was four.”
Catriona breaths heavily. Despite being bent over, she holds her head high. My lips curl into a smile. Still fighting.
I’ve disciplined many women in my life – but only during scenes in a club – never as part of something real. I’m lightheaded from the rush of power. I spank her again, four more slaps. Her skin shines bright pink.
“Eight…”
She hasn’t uttered a sound since I started, but as I land the eighth slap, there’s a small moan and her head drops to the desk.
My cock strains painfully against my belt.
Her arse tilts higher in the air – higher than earlier – that scrap of cotton covering her pussy fully on display.
Jesus, Catriona likes being spanked, she craves it!
I caress her tender skin and am rewarded with another soft moan.
As I begin the last of her punishment, I hit closer to her pussy. There is no mistaking the moans coming from Catriona. Her hands are in tight fists in front of her. Electricity zaps up my spine.
“Twelve…”
I keep the pressure on her lower back. Her flaming cheeks are warm under my hand.
My breathing is ragged and I don’t want it to end.
She makes no attempt to get up. I squeeze the soft globe, and before I can stop myself, I slip two fingers in under her panties.
Silky skin, and then…wetness. A low groan rumbles in my chest. Catriona lifts her head from my desk, and she stills.
I’ve gone too far.
I went too far the moment I got off my chair!
Shite, shite, shite! I need to stop this, and right now.
I pull my hand from her wet heat and bend down to grab her trousers from the floor. I can smell her arousal and I’m oh-so tempted to put my mouth where my fingers have been. Instead, I rise and cover her gorgeous long legs and pink cheeks with her baggy trousers.
“Stand up,” I whisper, surprised that I’m able to speak considering how the blood is pumping through my body. She immediately responds, standing awkwardly straight, facing forward, avoiding eye contact. I quickly button and zip her trousers and fasten the belt.
Now what?
I clear my throat. “The O’Toole file… I want no more nonsense from you. I want overview points of the contract by tomorrow lunchtime in preparation for Saturday’s meeting.”
With a jerky movement, she grabs the file off my desk and practically runs out of the office.
As the door shuts behind her, I close my eyes and let out a stuttered breath.
I’m shaking. Slowly, I make my way over to my private bathroom, lock the door, and unzip my trousers.
As I grab my rock-hard cock, I refuse to think about the implications of what I’ve done, how many written and unwritten rules I have broken, how this could affect my working relationship with Catriona – that is, if we’ll even be in our jobs by the end of the week.
I block it all out and allow myself a moment with only my lust on my mind.
As I pump my cock through my fist, I lift my other hand and inhale the smell on my fingers.
The scent of Catriona’s wetness. A mix of tart and sweet.
I suck the trace of the liquid off them.
Sweat is beading at my temples, and I moan around my digits.
My cock swells. I can’t hold back and come hard with Catriona’s name echoing in my head.