“Like a file.” Sexy pause. “Or a paper clip.” Amusement colored his voice at that alternative.
“But you won’t listen.”
Another sound of movement preceded a whisper of air at her back. He was mere inches away, but still not touching. It was excruciating.
“I refuse to listen,” he said softly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” His fingertips brushed her hip and she shivered. “They’ll never be good enough because I’ve already decided.”
She could feel her body angling over the desk, hinging at her hips to make her ass more accessible to him.
“Decided what?”
“To punish you.” He grasped the hem of her skirt with both hands and yanked it up completely.
“Oh!” Air rushed over her exposed ass cheeks, the string thong providing no protection from his eyes or the wicked deeds she knew were coming.
“How should I punish you, Ms. Strickland? What does a naughty girl like you—an eavesdropper on private shower moments, an office yoga tease, a paper clip thief—deserve?”
A paper clip thief. She giggled.
He pulled on the thong’s triangle of fabric at the top of her ass and twisted it. The friction it created between her legs turned her giggle to a moan.
“Do you think this is funny?”
Desperate for relief, she squeezed her thighs together. He nudged her feet farther apart, preventing her attempt at a solo grind.
“No,” she panted. “Not funny.”
Twisting the fabric again, he dragged it against her sensitive, throbbing flesh.
“Please, Brody.”
He stopped.
“Mr.…Mr. Kane. Please.”
He restarted, the friction so delicious but never quite enough to take her high, higher, and over. In that moment, she realized what he was doing.
Truly punishing her.
Hell, it looked like she’d have to take care of this herself. She reached down with seeking fingers, only to have him pull her back upright against his chest.
“Nah-ah, Ms. Strickland,” he rasped, his breath hot and urgent against her ear. “No more hands in panties when I’m here to do the job. If it’s not doing the trick, just say so. Communication is key in any workplace.” She heard a sliding whoosh and realized that he was taking off his belt. Within seconds, he had bound her wrists and pulled taut.
“Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head.
“Say it.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
He laced an arm around her waist and up until his hand splayed on her neck. Totally immobilized, all she could do was submit to whatever he had planned. With long, strong fingers, he lifted her shell, pulled down her cups, and freed her breasts. Combined with her raised skirt, her ass exposed, she felt gloriously slutty.
“Now, what do you need?”
“More. Your hands, your tongue. Please, more.”
“Yes. Tell me everything.” Everything. She wished…but wishes were for good girls. His fingers slipped inside her panties and finally touched her where she needed so badly.
“Harder,” she urged. “Stroke harder.”
He did, the rough callus of his forefinger sawing through her folds, whispering against her clit.
“Like that?”
“Yes! Oh God, yes. Don’t stop.”
He chuckled, a sexy-evil sound, then bit down on her earlobe. He plunged two fingers inside her, then slowly, oh so slowly dragged them against her clit. She shattered, shards of her mind breaking off as she hurtled over. He held her close, panting against her neck as if he had experienced that peak with her.
“Okay, Emma?” he asked softly, the rusty tenderness in his voice creating an ache in her chest.
A brief nod was all she could manage. Anything else might have been too revealing, because she wasn’t okay. Far from it. She was in the process of being broken down on a cellular level by this man.
She had no time to dwell on that before her panties were dragged roughly down her thighs and left to drop to her ankles.
“Step out of them,” he demanded.
She did.
“Now turn around.”
Dazed at her own willingness to submit to his commands, she obeyed, and let him guide her back to sit on the antique mahogany desk. Her bare ass felt cool against the grain.
Large palms splayed her thighs wide for his sensual examination. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist; one heel had fallen off. Her wrists were still bound by his belt. Enthralled by his dominance, she could only watch as he stared at her in hungry assessment.
He’d never exhibited anything close to this level of bossiness when he asked for coffee.
His thumbs moved over the outer lips of her sex and spread her open, exposing her to his dark gaze. “So rosy and wet, Ms. Strickland.” He rubbed a thumb through her folds, spreading the moisture around, but always avoided direct contact with her clit. She was grateful, because she wasn’t sure she could handle that again so soon.
“What should I do next?” He licked his wicked lips, like a preview of what he wanted to do to her throbbing flesh.
“Please, Br—Mr. Kane.”
“Please what?”