J. A. Bailey
Bound by the Boss
Come to my office at 5.30pm. You’re working late today.
Mr P. Evans
Violet stared at her computer screen and rubbed at her forehead. How like him. Direct and straight to the point. Patrick Evans didn’t believe in unnecessary etiquette, she thought with a snort. Though she’d only worked for him for six months, she quickly got used to his brusque business style.
And in a strange way, she liked it. There was none of that awkward small talk. No having to be nice to her superior. He never pretended to be friends with his subordinates. Patrick Evans was the boss, nothing more and certainly nothing less. He demanded punctuality, perfectionism and obedience.
Surprisingly, Violet had found herself readily obeying her stern manager. In her three years since graduating college, she’d had four jobs, three of which had ‘let her go’ and one that she’d walked out from. In their efforts to be her ‘friend’, her previous superiors had simply given her the excuse to not give a shit. But that was not so with Mr Evans. For once in her life, Violet worked hard to please her quick-tempered boss.
A tiny curl of excitement flittered through her stomach as she eyed the clock on her computer. 16.50. Everyone else would be leaving at 5pm and then it would just be her and Mr Evans.
With his broad shoulders, thick black hair and sculpted arse — oh yes, she’d checked that out often enough — his mere presence was enough to send her pussy clenching with desire. He stared at her sometimes, his dark eyes clashing with hers from under his brow and in her more hopeful moments, she wondered if he felt the same. He wasn’t married and he definitely didn’t have a girlfriend, so maybe, just maybe there was a chance for her…
With a sigh, she flicked a look back at her computer. 16.56. Come on. Propping her hand on her chin, she watched his door. Sometimes…Okay, all the time, she imagined him throwing open that door and dragging her away from her desk for a hard fuck. Moisture pooled between her legs. Damn, if she was only at home. She could tear off her knickers and pound herself with her new toy.
Or she could go out and find herself a man for the night. It would be easy enough. With her curvy bottom and come-hither looks, men looked at her and immediately thought of sex. A pout of her ample lips, a flick of her chocolate hair and a bat of her blue eyes and she could gain a partner for the evening with ease. The problem was, although she was attuned with her body and could climax easily enough, they never seemed to satisfy her and rarely lasted more than one night. She sighed again. What the hell was wrong with her?
The rest of her work colleagues began gathering up their coats and Violet realised with a jolt that it was after 5pm. Her heart pounded against her chest. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like she’d never been on her own with her boss before. He often asked for her help in the office and she treasured every one of those moments but she’d always been aware of the office staff sat just outside. She giggled. That was probably the only reason she hadn’t jumped his bones yet.
As a couple of the ladies waved goodbye, she muttered about working late to them and they cast her a sympathetic look. She tapped her fingers on her desk as the last person filed out. Now what was she going to do for half an hour?
With the office empty, Violet glanced around and settled back into her chair. Slipping her hand beneath her skirt, she pushed aside her lace knickers and flicked over her folds. Yep, soaking wet. It was all her boss’ fault, she thought resentfully.
Blowing out a slow breath, she circled her clit, brushing gently until it swelled underneath her fingers. Working more vigorously, she closed her eyes and imagined that it was Mr Evans’ strong, warm fingers instead of her own slim ones. She imagined him kissing at her naked body, taking her nipples between his teeth before slamming his fingers into her needy cunt.
Her body tensed and writhed as she slid her fingers in and out before bringing them back over her nub and rubbing furiously until a sharp, short climax overtook her. Slowly withdrawing them, she opened her eyes and drew herself back up in her chair. Reaching for a tissue to wipe her damp fingers, she froze as Mr Evans’ door swung open.
His dark eyes fixed onto her. “Violet, come here.”
Looking from her wet fingers to her boss’ stern brow, she nodded and stood. “Yes, Mr Evans.”
She tucked her hands behind her and as soon as he turned his back, she twisted her hips, hoping her knickers would slide back into place. Fuck. If he didn’t smell her arousal on her fingers, then he would definitely smell it from between her thighs. And she dare not wipe her hands on her dark red dress. Mr Evans’ keen eye would surely spot the wet marks.
Following him into his office, a whiff of his expensive cologne washed over her as he pressed the door shut behind her.
“Have a seat.” He motioned to the chair.
Cheeks heating, she lowered herself into the leather chair, crossing her legs carefully and tucking her moist fingers into her hand. She cast a glance around the room. Spartan and simple, it comprised of a large glass desk, black leather furniture and a mini fridge in one corner. The office sat on the corner of the building and faced out over the city. His one concession to interior design was an abstract print on one wall.
Violet tilted her head and studied it. Now she thought about it, it looked just like a nude woman. She stared some more. God, she had sex on the brain. What was once a tasteful print was turning into the image of a spread-eagled woman. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to her boss.
Mr Evans propped himself up against his desk, his arms folded over his chest and eyed her with a calculating look.
Violet shifted as the warmth in her cheeks spread across her chest at his scrutiny. Did he know? No, he couldn’t possibly. Yet there was something in his expression that told her she could hide nothing from him.
He broke the silence suddenly, making her jump. “Mr Harrison from the head office is stopping by shortly. I need you to here to attend to him. We have a lot of paperwork to go over. You’ll be paid double time.”
“O-of course, Mr Evans. No problem.” Why her? Though it wasn’t unusual for him to single her out, there were surely more efficient workers. Still, she wouldn’t complain. She was broke after drifting from job to job and living in London wasn’t cheap. Double time would help towards this month’s rent.
“I have another proposition for you too. A promotion, so to speak.”
“A p-promotion?”
Mr Evans pushed away from his desk and snatched at a bundle of papers. Thrusting them into her hand, he moved around behind her. Violet stared at the papers but she couldn’t focus on the words, not with him so close by. Fuck, his presence was so…so intimidating. But in the most compelling way. Men might look at her and think of sex but Mr Evans made her think of sex and a whole lot more.
His hand came upon her shoulder and he bent over to murmur in her ear. “It’s a contract. I’ve watched you, Violet. I know what you want and I know what you need. I have a knack, shall we say, for recognising those that are naturally…accommodating. You act brash and confident but I know that’s not the real you.”
Her throat tightened as Mr Evans traced the shell of her ear with a finger before trailing across her collarbone. “I–I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You want me to fuck you,” he stated simply.
“No!”
He chuckled in her ear and she realised it was the first time she’d ever heard him laugh. God, this was so humiliating. Mr Evans’ hand pressed more persistently, levering her dress away from her chest and exposing her to his gaze.
“Your nipples are tight and rosy and begging for my mouth.”
Violet gasped.
“You want me to fuck you.”
A hand closed over her breast and she released a moan. Oh, what was the point in lying? She wanted him badly. It had to be the worst idea in the world, sleeping with the boss, but at the moment she didn’t give a shit.