Chapter 6 #2
In a move that’s so quick, he seems to blur, my boss is on his feet. He reaches over, grabs the collar of the Finance Director, and hauls him up. “Security will escort you out.”
“Hold on, what is the meaning of this, Davenport?” he blusters.
The door to the meeting room opens, and two security guards walk over to him. They grab each of his arms and begin to haul him off.
“There’s been a mistake,” he cries.
My boss ignores him. “Make sure he’s never seen on the premises again,” he orders the security guys.
“B-but what happened?” the wanker stutters.
My boss turns on him. He fixes the wanker with his cold gaze.
Silver sparks flash in his eyes. They’re stormy cobalt pools swirling with so much emotion, I flinch.
He could be Loki, ready to wipe out his enemy.
Satan, ready to scorch everything his gaze touches.
Anger pours off him in waves. He’s not the unfeeling brute I thought him to be.
All that emotion is boiling under the surface, looking for an outlet.
Oh, to be at the receiving end of it would be so erotic. The thought makes me feel faint.
“What did I do?” the Finance Director blurts out again.
“What did you do?” My boss’ voice is low, almost casual. But I hear the ominous tone like thunder rumbling in the distance. He continues to glare at the Finance Director, who wilts under his scrutiny.
He swallows, then seems to find his bearings, for he puffs out his chest. “Y-yes, I want to know what I did?”
“You talked down to my assistant. You disrespected my assistant. You belittled her. You humiliated her. You invaded her personal space. You came onto her in front of the entire team.”
I listen, thunderstruck. All the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room. The pressure in the space seems to dip, and there’s this sense of impending doom. Like a massive storm is about to break over us.
“How dare you touch her when she was, clearly, uncomfortable?” His voice is so cold, so diamond-hard, so filled with rage, it sends a pulse of liquid heat shooting through my veins.
Seeing my boss angry on my behalf is like sinking my teeth into the darkest, most bitter, most decadent chocolate cake.
No, it’s better He noticed what the other guy was doing.
He was aware of just how much the wanker was patronizing me.
How he was coming onto me. He. Noticed. Me.
And now, he’s standing up for me? Oh. My.
God. I grip the edge of the table with such force, pain shoots up my arm.
“How dare you undermine my assistant’s dignity?” My boss’ voice drops even lower in pitch. ”Get out of here before I throw you out myself.”
“You’re firing me over her?” The other guy sneers, “She’s not worth it, you know.”
My boss’s shoulders seem to swell. The buttons on his jacket strain, and I’m sure they're going to pop any moment. In fact, I’m positive the seams of his sleeves are going to tear, thanks to how his biceps bulge. His gaze narrows on the Finance Director, who pales.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m going to sue the shit out of you Davenport,” he cries. Then he’s out of the room. The door closes behind him.
My boss straightens his tie, then glances around. “Dismissed.”
I watch as the men and women who watched the proceedings with open-mouthed surprise scramble to their feet.
Thanks to me, his meeting went to pieces. I failed him. I swallow down my disappointment.
There’s a clatter of chairs, the clop-clop of ladies’ heels, then they’re gone.
I take a few steps toward the door when, “Not you, Ms. Donnelly.”
Oh. I freeze, but don’t turn to face him.
“Come here,” he says softly.
I turn and, making sure to keep my chin lowered, shuffle toward him.
When I come to a stop next to him, I swallow.
“I... I didn’t do anything.” Except, I feel guilty for not pulling away when that wanker touched me.
In my mind, I already belong to my boss.
I belong to him? The realization crashes into my chest with the force of a storm which had been building all along.
“Is that right?” My boss’s cold, hard voice interrupts my thoughts.
I nod. Unable to meet his gaze for reasons I can’t comprehend, I murmur, “He's the one who—”
“I’m aware.” The menace in his tone makes me shiver.
He sounds so tough. So livid. When he stays silent for a few seconds, I risk a glance at his face, then wish I hadn’t, for he’s glaring at me.
The tips of his ears are white, which is not a good sign, is it?
His jaw has gone even harder, if that’s possible.
And the way the muscles spasm at the tops of his cheekbones? I’m sure he’s going to crack a molar.
He reaches out and, before I can react, he slips off my spectacles, then folds them and slides them into his shirt pocket. To say I’m surprised is putting it mildly. I want to ask him what he’s doing but he snaps, “Bend over.”
“Excuse me?” I gape at him.
“Hands on the conference table, bend over at the waist, and put your cheek on the surface.”
I’m not sure why I comply. And I don’t know why this doesn’t feel like sexual harassment, but it doesn’t.
In fact... It feels like whatever he’s going to do to me is atonement for letting some other man touch me.
Whatever he has in mind is going to help me find redemption, and it feels right.
It feels like I've waited all my life to have this man pin me with his fierce look and give me his complete attention.
Everything inside of me wants me to obey him, so I do.
I turn to face the boardroom table. I flatten one hand on the surface, then the other.
I lower myself forward slowly, until my cheek is pressed into the surface.
For a few seconds, the only sound in the space is my breathing.
The tension builds, pressing down on me.
My stomach churns with anticipation. A heavy pulse kicks in at my wrists, at my temples.
My nipples throb. Then he kicks my ankles apart, and I gasp.
“You deserve to be punished for not standing up for yourself when someone insulted your professional standing.”
He’s right.
“You deserve to be punished for letting another man touch you. Do you agree?”
I nod.
“Say it aloud, if you do,” he snaps.
“I... I agree.”
I cry out when his palm connects with my backside.
One-two-three-four—I count as he spanks my alternate arse cheeks.
Each time he connects with my backside, I rise up on my tiptoes.
Each time he spanks me, the pulse between my legs blooms bigger.
Thicker. More insistent. Until it spills over into my thighs, my lower belly, bounces down to my toes, and up, up, up to my pussy lips and my spine, and bursts into a fountain of light behind my eyes. Oh my god! Did I just climax?
I float down to earth and when I open my eyes, it’s to find he’s massaging my behind through my skirt, my panties, and my stockings.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and a whine leaves my lips. Ohmigod, what’s wrong with me? Why did that feel so good?
“You may straighten and put yourself to rights,” he says in a bored voice.
I push up to standing, then wince when my backside throbs.
“Does it hurt?” There’s a note of curiosity in his voice, matched by the gleam in his eyes. A shiver grips me. The fact that he cares enough to ask means so much, and I don’t question it.
“It does”—I nod— “but in a good way.”
Satisfaction laces his features. Then he slips my spectacles out of his pocket and slides them back on my face. He positions them just so, then looks me up and down. “You’ll remember me every time you sit down in your chair. You’ll remember that you’re not supposed to encourage men to look at you.”
“What the— What?” My jaw drops. “Are you saying it’s my fault he touched me?” And here, I’d been thinking he rushed to protect my honor by firing the executive.
He draws himself up to his full height, “What I’m saying is that this skirt”—he stares at the offending garment—“is too tight.”
“Are you calling me, fat?” I whisper.
He looks genuinely taken aback. “Are you trying to elicit compliments from me?”
It’s my turn to feel baffled. “But you said my clothes are too tight—”
“Your figure is perfect, as you are well aware.”
I push my spectacles up my nose. “Uh, no, I’m not, actually.”
His brows draw down. “Surely, you jest. Your curves are exquisite.”
“Really?” I cry.
He goes on as if I haven’t spoken. “I’m sorry if I implied it was your fault that bastard came onto you. That wasn’t my intention at all. But I didn't like the way he stared at you, and how he seemed to be overly familiar with you.” He scowls. “Why didn’t you tell him off?”
“Uh, I’m an assistant and he’s an executive, and I didn’t want to lose my job.” Also, I didn’t want to mess up my boss’ meeting. But I don’t say that aloud.
A look of understanding flashes across his features. “You have my permission to tell off any asshole who dares behave inappropriately with you, except—”
“You?” I ask timidly.
“Except me,” he says slowly. “Do you find it strange that I say that?”
I lower my gaze and shake my head. “I... I find it appropriate. When you take liberties with me... It feels...” I search for the correct word then settle for, “Right?”
“Hmm.”
I sneak a peek at his face to find him watching me with a strange look in his eyes.
“You didn't find it disconcerting when I—”
“Spanked me?” My bottom pulses in response, and I resist the urge to shuffle my feet and find a more comfortable position. “I should have, but... It felt... Correct for you to do so. I made a mistake, and you punished me, so I’ll remember not to do it again.”
He grunts. “I’m not going to apologize for it,” he warns.
“I don’t expect you to.”
“This doesn’t mean anything.” He takes a step back. “I had an urge. I indulged it. But it doesn’t imply there’s something here.” He motions to the space between us before shoving his hand in his pocket. “Understand?”