Chapter 15
Riley
Ileft the bathroom and entered Mr. Steele’s office. He stood at the window, his back to me and his phone at his ear. His suit jacket was across the back of the couch, and I studied his broad shoulders in the navy blue shirt he wore before sinking gracefully to my knees.
I bowed my head and clasped my hands in my lap, grateful for the calmness that descended over me. I listened to Mr. Steele speak, drowning out the words and focusing on his deep voice”s rise and fall.
By the time he’d finished his call, nearly ten minutes had passed, and my shaking and the nausea in my stomach had disappeared. I smiled happily when I felt his hand stroke my hair. “Good evening, Charlotte.”
“Good evening, Mr. Steele.” I lifted my gaze, studying his face in the warm light from the fire and the lamp in the corner.
He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Still not better.”
It was, I wanted to say. It was healed nicely until this morning. But I stayed quiet. Mr. Steele didn’t need to hear about my problems with my boss every time I was here.
“Your boss still an issue?” he asked.
“No,” I said, putting every last bit of energy into selling the lie. “It’s much better.”
His thumb still stroking my bottom lip, he studied me silently. With Herculean effort, I kept myself from fidgeting until finally, he nodded and said, “I’ve left work on your desk for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
He returned to his desk, and I sat at mine. It was another data entry spreadsheet, and I got to work. A few minutes later, Mr. Steele said, “Still no glasses, Charlotte?”
I cleared my throat and leaned back from the screen. “I’m getting them soon.”
He made a non-committal sound, and I did my best not to squint too hard while I worked. I was tired, my empty stomach started grumbling, and my eyes were gritty. I ignored my discomfort and kept working, but over an hour had passed when I finally emailed the spreadsheet to Mr. Steele. I’d never been so slow in returning work to him, and I hated the feeling of failure as I joined him at his desk and knelt on the cushion.
He cupped the back of my skull, and I leaned my cheek eagerly against his thigh. I closed my eyes as he combed through my hair with the gentleness I’d grown to love. If there was anything better than kneeling at Mr. Steele’s feet while he stroked my hair, I couldn’t think of what it might be. Right or wrong, this was my happy place, and I could have stayed here forever.
My stomach clenched tight when Mr. Steele said, “There are several mistakes, Charlotte.”
My eyes popped open, and I straightened, giving him an anxious look. He pointed to his screen. “You missed an entire row of entries here and here and here.”
Queasy and immediately on the verge of tears, I said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Steele.”
“It isn’t like you to be so careless,” he said, and the disappointment in his gaze was more than I could take.
Eager to fix my mistake and desperately trying not to cry like a pathetic loser, I focused on the only thing I could think of. I would give him a blow job. I would make him happy and show him I was his good girl.
He grunted in surprise when I wormed between his legs and reached for his belt. “I’m sorry, sir. Let me make it up to you.”
“Charlotte, stop,” he said.
I ignored him, fumbling open his belt with shaking fingers. “I can be your good girl, okay? Let me do this so you can see I’m your good girl.”
I reached into his pants, my fingers grazing his dick through his briefs. His hands clamped down on mine, and he pulled them out of his pants. “I said stop, Charlotte.”
Oh my God. What the fuck was I doing? I froze between his legs, staring up at him before I staggered to my feet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’ll leave now, and I won’t… please don’t tell the sisters I sexually harassed you. I swear I won’t contact you again.”
I made a break for the door but was barely in the hallway before Mr. Steele’s hand wrapped around my arm, and he turned me to face him. “Charlotte, wait.”
I stared at my feet. “Please let me go.”
He tipped my chin up with his free hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”
The kindness in his voice and the concern on his face shattered my thin veneer of bravery. I burst into tears, and he pulled me into his embrace. I buried my face in his silk shirt, trying not to bray loud sobs as he walked me back into his office and to the couch. He sat down, pulling me into his lap and holding me tight as I continued to cry.
He murmured low words that I couldn’t really hear over my crying but comforted me anyway. The stress, worry, and fear of the last two days rushed out of me in a flood of sobs. While I was humiliated at my loss of control, I had to admit that ten minutes later, when I was cried out and huddled quietly against Mr. Steele’s chest, I felt a little better.
Or maybe it was just Mr. Steele’s arms around me that made me feel better.
Mr. Steele handed me some tissues, and I wiped my face and nose. “Thank you.”
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I’m supposed to be here to be your good girl, not to… to cry and tell you my problems.”
“I want to know what’s wrong,” he said before kissing the top of my head. “So be a good girl and tell me.”
“It’s getting worse with my boss. I can’t seem to do anything right, and even when I don’t make mistakes, he accuses me of screwing up. I think he’s trying to get me fired, and I can’t lose my job, but I don’t know how to make him like me or stop believing I’m incompetent. I loved my job with my previous boss, and he was really good to me. We worked well together, and I miss him so much. I dread going to work every day now.”
Mr. Steele rubbed my back, his voice weirdly tense when he said, “Are you in love with your previous boss?”
I sat up and blinked at him. “What? No, of course not. We’re just friends, and he’s engaged to a wonderful woman. They live in Montana now.”
He pulled me back against his chest, and I tucked my face into his neck, inhaling deeply. God, I loved how he smelled.
“Is there someone else at work you could speak with about your issues with him?” Mr. Steele asked.
“No. He’s high up in the company, and I’m admin staff,” I said. “Even if I spoke to the company owner, it would just end with me being fired.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I made myself sit up and smile at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry for screwing up our session tonight by being a whiny baby. I’m available tomorrow night if you’d like to rebook. I promise I’ll have my shit together tomorrow evening. I’ll tell the sisters I had to cancel tonight so you won’t be charged.”
He cupped my neck, kneading the back of it in a now familiar gesture that still had the power to make me melt. I brushed my lips against his before licking the seam of his mouth.
He groaned and pulled back. “Charlotte, you don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I said.
“Do you?” He gave me a searching look.
I nodded. “Yes, I want to be your good girl. Please let me.”
He sucked in a shuddering breath when I cupped him through his pants. He went half hard immediately, and I smiled at him before kissing his neck. I gave him another light squeeze before reaching for his shirt buttons. I’d never even seen him shirtless before, and I had a sudden and irrational fear that he wouldn’t let me undress him.
To my relief, he made no move to stop me as I unbuttoned his shirt and leaned forward so I could push his shirt off his shoulders. His sleeves caught at his wrists, and I muttered a curse before fumbling at the small buttons.
He chuckled and leaned even closer to kiss my throat. “There’s no hurry.”
“Says you,” I said. “I want you naked.”
He nipped my neck, and I shuddered against him as I finally got his sleeve buttons undone. I pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind me before staring greedily at his naked chest.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
“So are you,” he said.
I shrugged off the compliment, reaching out with trembling fingers to trace across his broad chest. He had a light layer of dark hair across his chest, small, flat nipples, and a firm stomach. I trailed my fingers across his abs. “Do you work out every day?”
“Most days,” he said. “I have a home gym.”
I leaned over him and kissed his collarbone before kissing my way to one flat nipple. I licked it experimentally, and when he groaned, I sucked it into my mouth. He cupped the back of my skull, his back arching as he made another soft groan. His reaction filled me with hot desire. He tugged my head up and kissed me hard, cupping my breast through my shirt and toying with my nipple. We kissed with a clash of teeth and tongues, our breath coming in harsh pants.
He pulled back, a look of guilt on his face. “Shit, your lip, I forgot.”
“It’s fine,” I said, even though my lip stung.
He grabbed my shirt hem. “Take this off.”
I lifted my arms, and he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it on the couch with his. The look of absolute reverence on his face as he cupped my naked breasts did wonders for my self-esteem. He ran his thumbs over my nipples before bending his head to kiss and tease them into an aching hardness.
When he reached to cup my pussy through my pants, I pushed his hand away. He scowled at me. “Be my good girl and let me touch your pussy.”
“I want to be your good girl who sucks your cock,” I said, cupping his dick through his pants again.
His nostrils flared, and the look of pure need on his face sent my desire skyrocketing. I rubbed him lightly. “Please, sir?”
“Your lip is too sore,” he said.
“It isn’t,” I said. “I promise.”
He hesitated, and I leaned over him and kissed his flat stomach, tracing my tongue around his navel before looking up at him. “Let me be your good girl.”