Chapter 4
Isquirmed uncomfortably as I waited for Jake to open the door.
I’d changed into the shortest skirt I owned and freshened up my Dare You red lipstick before I left the office.
I waited to take my panties off in the car, so I didn’t risk flashing anyone.
The danger was real, as evidenced by the breeze I felt on my already wet sex.
I’d been wary of pushing things this far with Jake.
The pause while I waited for him to respond to my spanking suggestion felt as though it went on forever, and I worried I’d crossed a line.
But then he jumped on the idea, and something inside me relaxed and my anxiety turned to anticipation.
I’d barely been able to concentrate on the cabinet finishes for Mrs. Meyer.
I’d never had anyone spank me before—not beyond a playful swat on the butt.
I didn’t think I’d hate it. If the way my body felt was any indication, I was pretty sure I’d love it.
But if I didn’t, I could tell Jake to stop, and I knew he would.
It was one of the great parts about trying things with him.
There was no judgment, just playful exploration.
If it didn’t work, we didn’t do it—the whipped cream and chocolate syrup we’d tried had been messy fun for one time but so sticky, it wasn’t worth repeating.
If something worked for both of us, we could do it more often and test the boundaries, like maybe that ruler he’d mentioned.
But first he had to open the damn door. I shifted my weight back and forth on my skyscraper-high heels.
He opened the door—finally—and the breath caught in my throat.
I’m not sure I’d ever seen Jake wearing anything other than a variation on cargo shorts and a T-shirt.
He rarely wore shoes and when he did, they were beat-up loafers with no socks.
I swear his wardrobe hadn’t changed since college.
I was pretty sure most of the T-shirts were at least that old.
The man standing in front of me didn’t look like the same person.
He wore actual pants with a belt and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms. My gaze roamed over polished cotton stretched over his broad shoulders, trying to reconcile this man with the casual to the point of sloppy guy I was used to answering the door.
Then my gaze met his and it was us again—playful and familiar—just for a moment before his forehead creased and a pair of lines formed in the space between his eyebrows.
“You’re late,” he said.
I wasn’t, but I loved the reprimand in his tone.
“I hope this kind of carelessness doesn’t carry over to the rest of your work.”
I stood frozen, stunned into place by how easily he’d slipped into character. My brain was too busy reordering the pieces and assumptions I’d made about Jake to realize he was waiting for me to enter.
“Come on. We don’t have all day.”
He motioned me inside, and I made my legs move, careful not to stumble on the heels that seemed to have magically grown higher.
I followed him down the hall to his office.
A huge desk faced the wall of windows looking out over the Central Business District.
Three enormous monitors took up a significant portion of its surface.
His chair was Herman Miller—I knew because I’d picked it out for him when he mentioned his back bothered him after he’d fucked me against the wall.
He said sitting at the computer aggravated it, so I’d had the chair delivered for him.
But this was the first time I’d actually seen the inside of his office.
I stood there, tottering on my heels, panty-less and so wet it was embarrassing, and realized that despite knowing him for months and having his hands and mouth on every inch of my body, I had no idea what the man did for a living.
Beyond working on computers and having enough money to pay for whatever he wanted.
I wanted to know—to understand more about him—but not until after.
“I need you to take dictation. You can do that, can’t you?”
I couldn’t and everyone, including him, had an app on their phone that could. Not the point, Elena.
I looked up at him. Even in heels, he was taller than me. “I didn’t bring anything to write with.”
That was shortsighted, considering I’d set up the scenario based on dropping my pen. The picture I’d created in my head had me holding a pen and tablet of some sort. The promise of a spanking had apparently short-circuited my normal tendency to over plan.
“Honestly,” he said with a sternness that did delicious things to my body.
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pen and legal pad, shoving them carelessly in my direction.
I took them both, fumbling the pen, not entirely on purpose, and watched as it slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.
When I glanced up to meet his gaze, his expression hadn’t changed, but there was something in the crinkles beside his eyes and the way he watched me—as if he were trying to work his way through a puzzle—that felt familiar. Safe.
“I’m sorry.” I sounded breathless, which didn’t require any playacting on my part. “I’ll get it.”
I turned so my back was to him, locked my knees and bent at the waist. The position gave him an unobstructed view of my aching sex, and his answering groan sounded primitive, almost feral, in contrast to the polished character he played.
“No panties.” He growled the words through clenched teeth.
Resting the fingertips of one hand on the floor to steady myself, I looked back over my shoulder at him.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t have time…”
The words died on my lips as he slid his fingers through my slick folds, grazing my clit almost carelessly before plunging two fingers inside me.
I sucked in a breath, back arched, and rocked back into his touch, not thinking about anything but more.
He gripped my hip with one hand and pulled his fingers free from my body, holding them in front of his face for a moment before sliding them into his mouth.
I stood. It was either that or fall over. Watching him lick my taste from his fingers was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen.
“You are not dressed appropriately for work. Everything about this is against our dress code.” He traced his fingers carelessly in the air in front of my body. “I think you’ve done it on purpose just to tease me, waving your wet pussy in my face. I should fire you.”
I didn’t have to pretend to tremble at his words. It was with anticipation, not fear, but it all felt very real to my body. “Please, sir. I need my job. I’ll do anything you want.”
“I’m afraid I can’t ignore this kind of infraction.”
“Please, let me make it up to you.” I made my eyes wide and fluttered my lashes—false ones I’d worn for just this moment. “Anything you want.”
“Greedy girl.” He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his strong forearms. “Very well. Bend over the desk and raise that tiny little skirt to your waist. I’m going to have to spank you so I’m sure you remember not to be so careless again.”
I did as he asked, bending over the section of desk farthest from the monitors, hiking up my skirt before stretching my arms in front of me so I could grip the opposite edge.
I was grateful to have something to hold onto.
Now that I was in the position I’d imagined, nerves and anticipation were making me tremble.
The smooth, cool surface of the desk steadied me.
I pressed my forehead against the lacquered wood and waited for Jake to tell me what to do.
That bit reassured me. Not being in charge for a change.
Not having to orchestrate everything. I may have been the one to suggest the scenario, but I wasn’t in charge any longer.
“Ten strokes. You will count. If, at any point, you need to stop you will say Uncle.”
I would have laughed at the childish variation on a safe word, but the tone of his voice made it clear laughing would be a bad idea.
I had no idea the playful, slightly disheveled man I was used to could channel this authoritarian persona.
It added a whole new stern brunch daddy angle to the image I’d built of Jake in my head.
“Answer me, Ms. Patrick, or I’ll have no choice but to increase the number of strokes.”
“Yes, sir.” I scrambled over my thoughts, trying to remember if he’d asked a question. “I count and say Uncle if I need to stop.”
“Good girl.”
I relaxed a bit at the unexpected praise just in time to feel his hand slap my exposed skin.
No warm-up or petting, just the sting of his palm on my tender flesh.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but whatever it was, I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
I tightened my grip on the edge of the desk and tried to tuck in my tailbone.
The move was completely ineffective. All it did was press my still aching clit against the edge of the desk. The sensation was confusing as fuck.
“Count, Ms. Patrick, or we will be here all day.”
“One.” I tensed as soon as I said the word, anticipating the second swat.
He ran his palm over my butt, smoothing the place he’d struck me.
Back and forth, back and forth, lulling me just enough to ease my tight muscles before bringing his hand down again, harder this time.
I yelped. I couldn’t help it. Without being able to hide or move away from his hands, it was the only reaction I had left. Unless I wanted things to stop.
I did. I’d expected some kind of sexy, playful love tap thing. This wasn’t that.
But I also didn’t want to stop. My skin felt hot and the sting from his hand had turned into something else—beyond a hyperawareness of my sex. I felt my wetness on my thighs, which might have embarrassed me if it wasn’t Jake, and I hadn’t already watched him lick my taste off his fingers.
“Two.” I wanted to see where this would go. I could stop later if I needed to.
His hand came down on the opposite side, two times in quick succession. I bit out three and four, blinking hard against my stinging eyes.
“That’s the kind of responsiveness I expect in a secretary.” He slid his fingers through my slick folds, circling my clit in the way he knew worked for me.
I rocked back on my heels, needing more.
He plunged two fingers inside me, curling them to stroke the front wall of my vagina.
His thumb pressed against my clit, making small circles, and every muscle in my body tensed—in pleasure this time.
I arched my back, pressing my sex toward him in a move that was more animalistic reaction than considered response.
I’d do whatever he wanted to get him to keep touching me like that.
“Greedy girl.” He pulled his hand away, but his tone sounded pleased, not disappointed.
I wasn’t sure when pleasing him had taken on this new kind of importance, but it had.
His hand came down on my bare ass, softer this time, almost gentle.
“Five.” I inched back, more concerned with getting his fingers inside me than his palm on my ass. It was a mistake.
Three swats this time, hard and too close together for me to catch my breath. Pain bloomed over my skin, hot and achy and unavoidable.
“Count, Ms. Patrick, or we’ll have to start over.” He stepped back, and even with my ass stinging from his touch, I had to fight the urge to move closer.
The absence of contact with him was worse than anything he’d done so far. How fucking weird was that? What did it mean? About me?
“Six, seven, eight.” I had no idea what I wanted anymore, but I did not want to start over.
“Good.” He palmed my sex, and God help me, I ground against him, desperate for release. Desperate for him to fill the achy emptiness.
He pressed and held two fingers against my clit as he brought his other hand down one more time, ruthlessly on my tender skin. One hand promised pleasure and the other gave me pain and I couldn’t do anything but cling to the desk and wait to see which hand won. And count.
“Nine.” My voice was practically a whimper, but I managed to say the word.
“Almost done. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
There were lessons to be learned here, but my brain was in no position to process anything but sensation. A simple spanking had reduced me to nothing more than a collection of feelings and an overwhelming achy need.
The last swat was the hardest, and I didn’t try to hide the choked sob. I couldn’t if I wanted to. I didn’t want to hide, which was at least as surprising as the sensations burning across my abused skin.
Jake froze in place. I could almost feel his gaze on me, evaluating my reaction. I needed him closer not farther away.
“Ten.” I turned my face, laying my cheek against the smooth surface of the desk. I couldn’t turn far enough to look at him, but I needed him to know what I wanted. What I needed from him.
“Fuck me, please, Jake. I need you to fuck me.”