Her phone chimed, telling her she only had fifteen minutes until she had to leave if she wanted to be on time to catch the train.
The reminder prompted her to think about Nathan again.
He planned to let her drive his car and pick her up after happy hour.
How the hell had all this happened?
Last night’s image of a spiral returned to her, and she realized it was symbolic. Since she’d arrived at work yesterday morning, everything she’d believed seemed to have been challenged, from the fact she no longer worked for Mr. Newman to having Nathan Donovan introduce her to BDSM. His world, he’d called it. And she was hooked. To the point it was a challenge to think about anything other than their upcoming evening.
She finished dressing, telling herself that she hadn’t intentionally chosen one of her tightest, shortest skirts or her highest confidence-giving heels. Her hand trembled, just a little, as she applied her makeup. Today, though, unlike others, she applied red lipstick, just in case he was already at the office when she arrived.
Kelsey gripped the counter then frowned at her reflection and sternly told herself not to be ridiculous. What happened in their personal lives was separate from work. She was going to show up and do her job with the utmost professionalism. It made no difference whether or not Nathan was in his office when she arrived.
Then she realized the more she was lecturing herself, the more she was thinking about him and the more excitement arced through her.
With a frustrated sigh, she gave up and instead concentrated on the tasks she needed to accomplish in order to leave on time.
With seconds to spare, she dropped her makeup bag into her tote and shrugged into a blazer before leaving, phone in hand.
It took two attempts to get the lock closed. With a frustrated sigh, she made a mental note to call a locksmith. Maybe she could schedule something for later in the week, drive in, take a long lunch. Or perhaps come home early one day.
As if.
She hadn’t left the office before five in over a year.
She dashed to make the train. Once she reached her stop, she headed straight for Marvin’s.
“Morning, Kelsey,” Marvin said when it was her turn. “The regular?” he asked, pulling a paper cup from a tall stack.
“Please.” She fished a ten-dollar bill from the wallet in her tote.
He marked the cup with a capital M for mocha. “Just one?”
She nodded, and a jolt went through her when she realized that she’d never again need to buy one for Mr. Newman. And she doubted it would be a good idea to take one to the hospital.
“Whipped cream?”
She smiled. “Does the day end in the letter y?”
“Tuesday. Yep.” He scrawled her name on the cup and added a smiley face beneath it.
“You should have been an artist.”
“Mostly, I am. Flour is my medium. The finished goods are my canvas.”
That was true. The cupcakes were decorated in different colors, and frosting swirled and dipped. Even the scallops on the petit fours were perfect. He rearranged the cases throughout the day, ensuring everything was perfectly, temptingly displayed. More than once she’d bought something because it was gorgeous.
“Anything else? I have scones if you haven’t had breakfast. Maybe a slice of quiche?”
He knew her too well.
“A spinach feta scone.” She thought about it for less than a second. “And a large coffee of the day.”
“For your boss?”
“Marvin,” she warned.
He held up a hand but didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. He rang up her order, dropped the pastry in a bag then glanced over his shoulder at her. “Room for cream?”
“No.” At yesterday’s meeting, Nathan had taken it black.
After putting a lid on the cup, Marvin handed it to her. “He seemed like a nice young man, if you ask me.”
“Don’t you have other people you need to help?”
His grin got bigger. “Have a good day, Kelsey.”
Nice?
She wasn’t sure she’d ever use that word to describe Nathan Donovan. Focused. Intent. Relentless. Those were more accurate. And after last night, a few more could probably be thrown in.
Nice?
She paid Marvin, dropped the change in the tip jar, picked up the scone and Nathan’s coffee then walked to an empty table. Since the barista had a couple of drinks in front of her mocha, she put the pastry in her tote and pulled out her phone to check messages. There was a frantic-sounding text from Andi. She’d had a mimosa for breakfast since Lorean had called in saying he’d be late because he had cramps.
Kelsey laughed so hard that a man near her turned to stare. Sometimes she wondered how she’d survive life without Andi.
She sent back a tiara emoticon. Then she sent a message of her own.
Lots to tell you.
About your hunky-dunky-hottie boss? C’mon. Tell me more.
Unable to resist the opportunity to create some drama, she responded.
We hung out last night. Oh. Mer. Gawd.
Girlfriend, you wrecked my day worse than it was. Dish.
I will. Over martinis.
Bitch.
Love you, too.
God knew Kelsey needed someone to talk to.
When her mocha was called, she grabbed it then carried it to the table. In one of her favorite indulgences, she pried off the lid then grabbed a stir stick to scoop out some of the whipped cream. She savored it while she stirred in the rest.
She took a sip to make sure it wasn’t overly hot and that it tasted good before taking a couple of much longer drinks.
The cup was half empty before she gathered everything and headed toward work.
In the building, the elevator doors closed behind her, and her heart rate increased as she was carried up each floor. Mentally, she began preparing a strategy for dealing with Nathan.
By the time she arrived at their suite, her brain was in overdrive.
Since the door was unlocked and the lights were on, he’d obviously arrived before her. But thankfully he wasn’t waiting for her.
Kelsey exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
His office door was closed, and she heard the cultured tones of his voice as he spoke. She wondered whether he had a visitor or if he was on the phone. Or maybe a video call.
Until Nathan, she’d never really appreciated the sound of a man’s voice. He controlled his so well, from commanding to reassuring, corporate inflexibility to encouraging. It wasn’t just with her. It had been the same with Martha Leone as he’d charmed her. Then with the senior management team. The man intuitively knew how to get what he wanted.
She placed the cups on the desktop then glanced at her wire inbox. A wink of metal caught her eye. With a frown, she reached for it.
Cold lanced through her as she picked up a set of nipple clamps.
He’d remembered.
Suddenly she was careening back to the previous night. Her nipples ached anew and she was breathless, needy.
Even though their time together had been sexy and she’d come at least two or three times, she’d been left somewhat frustrated by the fact they hadn’t had sex. That bothered her more than she cared to admit. She ached to feel him inside her.
His office door opened. Until then she hadn’t realized he’d stopped talking.
With a guilty start, she dropped the nipple clamps.
“I’m looking forward to watching you put them on your tits tonight.”
Vertigo seized her. So much for her attempt at professionalism. She wasn’t sure how to feel knowing he would be blurring the lines between work and submission.
She’d been thinking about him since he’d left her condo. How was it possible that she hadn’t remembered exactly how devastating he was in a suit and power tie?
He exuded power and seduction. Though he was clean-shaven, his hair was just that little bit long, leaving him looking rakish.
Without meaning to, she glanced at his hands. She shivered as she remembered the way he’d spanked her, fingered her, squeezed her breasts.
She wanted him to do all that again. And more. So, so much more.
God. How was she supposed to survive the week? Professionalism, she reminded herself. “Good morning, Mr. Donovan.”
“Kelsey,” he said with a nod. “How are you doing?”
Because of the huskiness in his voice, she knew he’d been thinking of her. This wasn’t the way he’d greeted her yesterday, it was more intimate.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Yes.”
He cocked an eyebrow and stared at her as if seeing through her.
She shifted, unable to hold the line on her lie. “I’ve slept better,” she admitted.
“Yeah?” He waited. “Me too.”
His response flabbergasted her. Had she somehow affected the dynamic Nathan Donovan? Even the possibility was enough to make her giddy. Screw professionalism.
“How does your ass feel?” he asked.
“No bruises.”
“Show me.”
It wasn’t a question or a request, she knew. Her mouth fell open.
“Lock the door and show me.”
His green eyes were icy with implacability. Using a safe word was always an option. But damn it, with her libido in overdrive, she didn’t want to.
Conscious of him watching her intently, she walked to the big double doors and threw the lock.
“Stop.”
Her back to him, she froze.
“Face me.”
A tremor passed through her. Slowly, conscious of making her movement as elegant as possible, she did so.
“Now lift your skirt to your waist.”
Having him raise it was one thing. Doing it herself was dizzying.
She had on a thong, and the way he looked at her as she raised the hem made her wish she’d had the courage to go bare.
“Black lace was a good choice. You’re a beautiful woman, Kelsey.”
She saw in his eyes that the words weren’t meaningless, and she drank in confidence from them.
“I want you to walk to the desk, drop your underwear to your ankles then bend over the top.”
“Yes, Mr. Donovan.” In her imagination, she sounded much more self-assured than she did in reality.
He remained in his doorway, master of the domain. And for right now, of her.
The skirt was so slim-fitting that it stayed in place without her holding it. Feeling more exposed than she had when she’d been at home naked with him, she followed his order.
When she reached her desk, she slid her thong over her hips and down her legs before bending over. She was grateful that she didn’t have to look at him.
His footsteps were muffled by the carpet, but she was aware of him as he closed the distance.
He trailed his fingertips across her buttocks then between her cheeks to tease her pussy and flirt with her anus.
“By the end of the week, I want you showing up to work wearing a butt plug.”
She swung her head to look at him.
He shrugged. “If you don’t, I’ll put one in for you. Nothing would please me more than knowing you’re sitting here, ten feet away, stuffed full for me.”
The image saturated her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking of it, either.
“You’re right. No bruises. Good. We’ve still got a lot of days to get through.”
The reminder thrilled her.
“Are you hot for me already?”
Jesus. He touched her pussy. “Mr. Donovan.” She was breathless.
“Oh…you are.”
“This is impossible. We’re at work.”
“Almost an hour before business starts. I’d say that counts as personal time.”
Very personal.
“You’re welcome to use a safe word,” he invited. “Or I can continue and slide my finger into my sub’s cunt?” He moved a little, teasing. “Which will it be?”
“Your finger,” she whispered.
“Please,
Sir
,” he said seductively against her ear.
Kelsey repeated his words.
“Good. Now say, please, Sir, put your finger in my hot cunt.”
Those words seemed lodged in her throat. She couldn’t be so bold and brazen.
He stopped moving.
Damn it.
“Please, Sir,” she capitulated. The need for him to continue was greater than her need to avoid embarrassment. “Please, Sir, put your finger in my hot cunt.”
From somewhere in the distance, she heard an elevator ding, and she realized others were starting to arrive for their workday. It heightened the danger and her response.
“Please, Sir,” he said again. “Put your finger in your sub’s hot cunt?”
She collapsed flat onto the desktop. He was single-minded in his determination to push her. Wildly she remembered that he’d promised exactly that. “Please, Sir,” she repeated, her pussy even wetter than it had been last night. “Please put your finger in your sub’s hot cunt.” Her words had an air of surrender to them, and it did strange things to her insides.
“Oh, my sub, I’d love to.” He entered her slowly, sliding in and out in an erotic finger-fuck.
Within seconds, she was hot with need.
The knowledge that the orgasm was his to give or withhold was excruciating.
She hoped he’d change the angle and press against her G-spot, but he didn’t. Instead, he ground his thumb against her clit.
“Please, please!”
“Which would make it easier for you to make it through the day?” he asked. “An orgasm? Or the sharpness of hunger?”
“Don’t deny me,” she begged. “I can’t take it.”
“You can. Whatever I say. Whatever I ask.”
“Yes,” she said.
“For today, wait.”
She smacked her palms against her desk.
“And with a little more patience next time, sub. My will, sub.”
“Has anyone ever told you no, Mr. Donovan?”
“Of course.” He kept his voice soft, near her ear. “Most regret it later.”
What the hell had she gotten herself into?
He helped her to stand.
Her clit was a pulsing, throbbing, annoying bundle of need. At this moment, she wanted him as much as she hated him.
“Say, thank you, Sir.”
She turned her head to the side to look at him. “Thank you?”
“Or it could be a really long time before I let you come again.”