Chapter 10
JETT
“Cari,” I call, my voice sharp and echoing through the space. “I need to see you. Now!”
The door creaks open, and there she is. Black pencil skirt hugging her curves, high heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor, and that silky blouse—soft, almost translucent—making her look both professional and completely distracting. Her hair is pinned up, neat and precise, with a few stray auburn strands framing her flushed face.
“Close the door.” I’m seated at my desk, fingers steepled, watching her every move.
She hesitates for a second, then does as I ask. The air is thick with tension as she comes towards me, hands clasped in front of her. Her cheeks are pink, a delicate flush that spreads down to her neck, and I don’t know if it’s nerves or something else. God help me, I hope it’s something else.
“Yes, Mr. Knight?” she says, her voice steady but soft.
Slipping my hands into my pockets, I rise and walk toward her. My gaze rakes over her, from head to toe. She’s delectable. Like something I could devour whole and still not have enough of.
I circle her slowly, the subtle scent of flowers clinging to her skin. It’s maddening. She’s maddening.
“Jett, what’s wrong?” There’s confusion in her voice. “What is it?”
I stop in front of her, meeting her wide eyes. “You forgot the report I needed for my meeting. Do you have any idea how that makes me look?”
Her hand flies to her neck, fingers brushing against the delicate chain she’s wearing. “I’m so sorry. Did I really mess it up?”
“Yes.” I watch the way her lips part, the way her chest rises and falls as her breathing quickens. “You did.”
Shame flickers across her face and her gaze drops. “I didn’t mean to. I’ll make it right. I’ll fix it.”
“You know what happens when mistakes like this are made, don’t you?” I ask, sternly.
Her eyes snap to mine, wide and unblinking. “You punish me,” she whispers, chewing her lower lip.
The words hit me like a freight train. I freeze, swallowing hard as my mind blanks for a moment. She doesn’t look away, her cheeks flaming, her body tense as if daring me to do it.
“That’s right,” I murmur, rough and needy. Desperate for her. “Bend over.”
She steps toward the desk, her movements hesitant but deliberate. Pressing her palms against the wood, she leans forward, the curve of her hips impossibly perfect in that damn pencil skirt.
I grab the ruler lying on my desk. It feels cool in my heated hand, and the sight of her bent over, waiting expectantly, makes my pulse race. Turns my cock to steel. I let out a guttural groan, before giving her a light tap on the rounded curve of her perky bottom, thankfully against the fabric of her skirt. I couldn’t bear to hurt her, but I sense she likes this.
“That’s for messing up,” I say, my voice tight. Another tap. “And this is to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
She glances over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “I can’t feel it, Mr. Knight.”
“What?” I can’t believe my ears.
She straightens slightly, looking at me from under her lashes. “I can’t feel it through my skirt.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. “What do you expect me to do?” I’m in danger of losing my shit. Coming in my pants, if she doesn’t stop tempting me.
Instead, her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile. “You said you were going to punish me. Then do it properly.”
I can’t think. I can barely breathe. But my hands move on their own, hitching her skirt higher, right up to her waist, to reveal satin, burgundy-colored panties edged with lace. Fuck me. I don’t know if I can do this—don’t know if I want to hurt her, even a little—but she bends over the desk again, her hands flat.
I tap the ruler lightly against her exposed skin. “Feel that?”
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice shaky.
“I didn’t hear you,” I snarl, my tone harder now, desperate to keep control.
“Yes!”
I give her one more tap, watching the way her body reacts, how she tenses, then softens under my touch. “Feel that?”
“Oh yes,” she breathes. Her voice is like a spark against my skin.
The air between us is charged with electricity. Anticipation buzzes around us. I want—no, I need —to touch her, to push this further, to see how far she’ll let me go. But I can’t. Not here. Not like this.
“That’ll do for now.” I step back, using all my restraint. My words sound distant, even to my own ears.
She straightens, smoothing her skirt down as she turns to face me. A lock of hair falls loose, framing her face, and I want to reach out to tuck it behind her ear, to let my fingers linger. I yearn to touch her face. To trace my thumb across her lower lip, the one she always chews when she’s nervous or unsure. I want to slide my finger into her mouth and have her suck it.
I want …
I close my eyes, shake my head, try to compose myself. When I open my eyes again, my gaze drops to her blouse, the delicate material that hints at what’s underneath. I want to undo her buttons, take it off, see her, and then I want to …
I clear my throat, shove my hands into my pockets. And swallow.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” she whispers.
“I’m sure you won’t.” It takes effort to keep my voice even. “You may go.”
She hesitates, just for a moment, then turns and walks out of the room. I watch her go, my chest tight, my fists clenched at my sides.
And then I wake up.
My chest heaves, my breathing is ragged as my eyes snap open. My skin is slick with sweat. My cock is hard. My bed is empty.
I remember the fight with Dina, but I push that away, and replay the dream in my mind again, letting my imagination play out the rest of it. Pushing my boxer briefs down, I stroke myself, flashes of that ruler hitting Cari's ass spurring me on.
Oh. Fuck. My cock twitches some more.
I hiss out a growl, stroking faster, harder, feeling so close ... but I stop myself. I take my hand away and slide the boxer briefs back up.
I can’t think about Cari like that.
I won't.
It's wrong. She's my fucking assistant, dammit.
My breathing grows heavy, and I'm left feeling empty and unsatisfied; like a coil spring that's wound up too tight, and desperate for a release it can't get.
I swallow, and lie there, feeling like shit, until I hear the ping of a notification. Grabbing my phone I see Dina’s apology text.
She wants to make up.
Fuck. Yes!
I jump at the chance.
She’s using me as much as I'm now using her. We both know there's an expiration date on what we have, so we might as well make the most of it while we can.