The Boss's Orders: Alpha Male Billionaire Office Romance (4 page)

O
n the weekend
, I do everything to keep busy. I scrub the apartment from top to bottom, do nine loads of laundry, and make enough soup to live on for a month. I even go out for a drink with Vanessa and April, a first for us. Funny how it’s easier to be friends with someone once you’re not in debt to them.

When I find myself on my hands and knees, voluntarily scrubbing the bathtub, I realize something’s going on.

I’m trying to distract myself.

Despite my best efforts, William Godrich is invading my thoughts, even when I’m not on company time.

And every time I finally find myself free of thoughts of him, something will bring him back to mind. The smell of Vanessa’s fresh-brewed coffee. An ad for Rolex in a magazine I’m flipping through. A man in the grocery store who looks just like him from the back (and disturbingly like my high school chemistry teacher from the front, but that’s neither here nor there.)

It all does nothing to help my crush, and I’m forced to admit that, despite my best efforts, I’ve got it bad. I can’t explain it. The arrogant smirk. The eyes that bore into you. The ripped body that I just know is hiding under that suit. The big throbbing … oh, my mind goes to some very dirty places.

And I can’t help but wonder why he still hasn’t done anything even remotely like hitting on me. Not even a bit of flirting, really.

By the time Monday rolls around I’m so frustrated and on edge and, yes, horny, that I abandon my usual black work suit and pull on a red wrap dress that I know shows off my chest in a borderline-inappropriate way. The dress is basically okay for an office — I mean, it’s not like I’m going in there in a cheerleading costume — but at the same time, I know I’m only wearing it because I want Mr. Godrich to take notice of me.

And that seems like dangerous territory.

But still I do it.

Because the dress is such a soft fabric, I have to wear a thong underneath, or risk obscene panty lines. And of course, the only clean thong I can find is a black lacy number that I bought for a promising third date last year — a date that had gone nowhere, I might add.

The thong does nothing to whet my sexual appetite though. The whole commute in, I can feel that thin string riding me. It’s pure torture, of the most exquisite kind.

Mr. Godrich isn’t in yet when I arrive, but that’s nothing new, since he doesn’t normally arrive until ten or so. I sit behind my desk and start to get myself ready for the day ahead, but I’m too distracted by the heat radiating between my legs. Oh God, why did I have to go and wear this stupid thong?

I squirm in my seat but that does nothing to help with my excitement. If I could just quickly take care of business, I know I would be fine but I can’t do that at work. At least not again… not after what happened last time.

Yet the more I try to forget about the sizzling fire between my legs, the more it seems to burn me. To call to me.

I have to take the thong off.

I shock myself a little with the idea but suddenly the thought of that comfort is all I can think of. No riding, no twisting, no rubbing. The dress isn’t sheer in the least so there’s no way anyone would be able to tell, and I’d actually be able to concentrate on my work instead of squirming in my seat all day.

I get up and close the main door to our area, the one that separates my cubicle area from the rest of the hallway. With the door closed, there’s no chance of anyone seeing me. Even if Mr. Godrich happens to come in, I’ll hear him turning the door knob and be able to adjust myself in time.

I quickly hitch up the skirt of my dress and slide my panties down, stuffing them into my purse. Oh God, that feels better already.

Of course, now the air against my bare pussy is something else to distract me. I can’t win today.

I slip back into my leather chair and try to concentrate on my work, but all I can think about is how naked I am under this dress. And then I think about Mr. Godrich, and the secretary who claimed he wouldn’t let her wear panties to work. I wonder what he would say if knew what I was wearing right now.

I imagine him lifting up my skirt and finding me bare. I imagine him laying my back over his desk and putting his tongue all over me. Putting his hands on me. Putting his dick…

I’m in the middle of my fantasy when I hear the doorknob start to turn.

I spin around to face the door and plaster a pained smile on my face just as Mr. Godrich walks in.

“Good morning, sir,” I force out. The words come out in a slightly high-pitched squeak.

Mr. Godrich stares at me for a long time. I can tell that my face is beet red.

He looks around the room, as if he’s aware that something is slightly off. He sniffs the air once, twice, then walks straight into his office.

Does he know? Can he tell?

Surely not.

Right?

This is the second time he’s caught me in an awkward position. In all my twenty-three years of living, I’ve never done so many inappropriate things. A month ago, I would have been completely appalled at the thought of going commando at work and yet here I was. There was something about my new boss that just seemed to make me want to do all kinds of things I never would have done before.

I have to get it together. I take a few deep breaths and force myself to get back to work. Maybe it’s the guilt but I actually get a good chunk of work done.

After an hour or so, Mr. Godrich’s door opens.

“Claire, could you please come in here?”

My heart skips a beat. He’s never come out of his office to summon me before. Normally if he needs something, he just instant messages me.

I have a bad feeling about this.

When I go into his office, he doesn’t smile. Of course, that in and of itself isn’t cause for concern, since he very rarely ever smiles. But there’s something about the expression on his face that sends fear coursing through my body.

He gestures to the seat across from his and I sit down, careful to keep my legs crossed. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m sitting in my boss’s office with no panties on. Ack.

“Claire, do you care to explain this?”

He turns his monitor towards me. I try to figure out what I’m seeing on the screen, until I realize it’s me. Me, sitting at my desk. Me standing up, hitching up my skirt. Me, sliding my panties off. From the angle of the camera, my sex is completely exposed as I’m bent over.

For the second time today, my body goes beet red with shame. I hang my head. I can’t even look at him. I’m so going to be fired.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the cameras, Claire, but we’ve had so many temps in over the past few months that we had to take some extra precautions.”

He looks at me as if he’s waiting for me to say something, so I force myself to say, “I understand.”

“Thank you, Claire. I hope you understand, also, that it is quite inappropriate to take your panties off at work.”

I seriously want to bawl my eyes out. I have never been so humiliated in my entire life.

“I do, Mr. Godrich. Sir. I’m so sorry. It will never happen again.”

“Thank you, Claire. That’s good to hear. However, you will still need to be punished. I already gave you one warning. This is your second infraction, and it’s … a most serious one.”

I nod meekly. “Of course.” I imagine I’m going to end up with a note in my HR file, if not worse.

“Stand up, please.”

I do as he says, not understanding. He stands up too.

“Bend over,” he says, pointing to his desk.

“I’m sorry?”

He grins. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and I feel more terrified than ever. It’s a truly wicked grin.

“No, but you will be,” he says. “Now bend the fuck over.”

“
N
ow bend the fuck over
,” I tell her.

She looks at me with fear and confusion on her face. It’s a delicious combination.

“Sir?” she says questioningly. I know she has no idea what the word does to me, because otherwise she wouldn’t be using it right now. Not right before I punish her.

She steps nervously over towards me. I don’t have any more patience to show so I grab the back of her neck and force her to bend over my desk. Her breasts are smashed against the mahogany wood, while her ass is straight up in the air. Just the way I like it.

I lift up the skirt of that fucking sexy red dress she’s wearing and see that sweet creamy panty-less ass.

Oh, I chose well with you, Claire, I think to myself.

I can feel her sharp intake of breath as I put one hand on her back to steady her.

I bring my other hand down and smack her on the ass. Hard. She whimpers but doesn’t protest.

I do it again. And again. And again.

Each time gets harder, and so do I. Blood is coursing to my dick so fast I feel almost lightheaded. As I slap her, I think about stopping to run my finger down the crack of her ass, right where it leads to her slick pussy. I think about thrusting my fingers up inside of her, finger fucking her right here on my desk, shattering her into a thousand pieces.

Instead, I slap her again, so hard I can see the red hand print forming on her smooth white ass cheek.

“Oh! Oh, sir!” she cries out. My dick is raging, desperate to fuck her. I wonder if she’s ever been spanked before. I’m surprised to find the thought of another man spanking her sends me into a funnel of rage. I slap her again, harder, to make her pay for that.

“Please sir,” she says. Her voice is shaking but I’ve done this enough times to know it isn’t fear making it quake — not really. It’s the pleasure that comes with being on the brink of fear.

And it’s what I live for.

“Claire, not wearing panties at work is not appropriate. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she says.

“But given that you seem to enjoy being so naughty, I’m going to make sure the punishment fits the crime. For the rest of the week, you will be forbidden from wearing panties in this office.”

“Yes, sir.”

I slap her again, and again, and again. Each time, her body is pressed harder against the desk. I spank her one more time and a cry escapes her lips. I watch as her whole body tenses, shudders, softens. I see the telltale flush of pink covering her milk white skin.

Holy fuck. I think she just came on my desk. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. This girl is something else.

“Did you enjoy that, Claire?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice is muffled and soft, and I can tell she’s embarrassed.

Her sweetness nearly pushes me over the edge. I grab her arm and yank her to her feet.

“Good. Now get out of my office.” If I don’t get her out now, I’m going to have no choice to fuck her, and there’ll be no going back once that happens. I can’t afford to let myself go like that. Not now. Not yet.

She stands there, stunned and trying to collect herself. She glances towards the door and then back at me. I keep my gaze as steely as possible even though what I really want to do is bend her over and plow my rock hard dick into her.

She finally looks down at the ground. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles, as she leaves my office.

Once my door is closed, I let out a deep breath. That woman just might be the death of me. That look on her face as she left my office …

Disappointment.

Fear and pleasure and pain all rolled into one … and then disappointment when I stopped it.

Damn, she’s hot.

I want to jerk myself off so bad right now that it physically hurts, but I don’t want to give myself the satisfaction right now. I’m saving this for Claire.

Because when I do finally take her, I intend to give her everything.

I
walk
out of my boss’s office in stunned silence.

Did that really just happen? Did he really just turn me over his desk and spank my bare ass? Did I really just have an orgasm — a mind-blowing orgasm, at that — while getting spanked?

My face burns with shame — and something else. I sit down behind my desk while I try to collect myself. As soon as I sit, a shock of pain hits me. My ass is still smarting from his beatings, but I wriggle down into it, enjoying the visceral memory it brings back.

I have no idea what to do right now.

Any other person would probably run screaming to HR right now. Or even to a lawyer. Hell, if I was smart, that’s what I would be doing.

But I already know there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.

Because if I
did
, there’d be no chance of this, or anything else, ever happening again.

And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I definitely do want this to happen again.

No one has ever spanked me before. And certainly no one like Mr. Godrich. That face, that body … those hands.

And even though his words were harsh, I knew he had enjoyed our encounter too. When he leaned up against me I could feel his hard dick pressing against my ass through this suit pants.

That dick.

My pussy is on fire right now. It’s so wet that I’m afraid I’m going to end up with a damp spot on the back of my dress. I was so sure he was going to fuck me in there, I couldn’t believe it when he stood me up and told me to leave.

I can hear him in there now, pacing around. The sound reminds me of a caged lion.

I can’t help but wonder … what have I gotten myself into?

* * *

I
spend
the whole weekend going back and forth about the whole situation. Every morning I wake up with resolve — this is crazy, and first thing Monday morning, I’m going to tell Mr. Godrich exactly that.

Then the day goes on and by evening (and a glass of wine or two) I’ve gone back the other way. I can’t say no to him. I want to see this through.

I
have
to see this through.

On Sunday night, I toss and turn until morning, but I finally wake up with a new determination.

This is crazy. Whatever this is, whatever William wants, is crazy, and I can’t participate. I’m putting my foot down.

Despite his ridiculous orders that I go to work without panties today, I intend to do the exact opposite. I rummage through my drawer and find the biggest, unsexiest, granniest panties I own. White cotton briefs that go up past my belly button. He would hate these.

That almost makes me smile, before I force the thought out of my head. He won’t be seeing these. That’s the entire point.

When I get to the office and find William not there yet, I’m both relieved and disappointed. Part of me had wanted to have this conversation right away, so that we could start this week on the right foot. But part of me is grateful to be able to put it off for another little while.

I sit at my desk and get to work. My filing project is mostly finished by now, so I start putting together a list of contracts that need to be scanned and digitized.

Hours tick by and still no William. By mid-afternoon, I’m actually starting to worry a little. He’s always been by the office at least some point during the day, and if he’s going to be out all day he usually lets me know.

But soon I hear his growling voice coming down the hall. It sounds like he’s in a bad mood. I can hear him barking out orders to people as he makes his way towards his office — and no doubt they’re all scrambling in his wake, trying to do whatever impossible task he’s asked of them. I’ve only been here a couple of weeks and I’ve already noticed that every single person in the company jumps the second he even glances their way.

And here was I, disobeying a direct order.

When he comes in to the office he glares at me. His steely gaze bores right into me and already I’m doubting my plan to end this.

“In my office. Now.”

“Mr. Godrich, I …”

“Goddammit, I said
now
, Claire.”

“Yes, sir.”

There is something about Mr. Godrich when he gets like this … something that just drives me to obey him. It’s like I can’t say no.

And despite my earlier intentions, I’m not sure I want to.

I follow my boss into his office. He slams the door closed behind us and I jump.

“Take off your dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take off your dress.”

Somewhere in my head is a voice of reason. That voice is still insisting that this is crazy. My boss just told me to take off my dress. Is there any part of me that thinks this is a good idea?

There must be. Because my hands are already moving of their own accord, reaching down to the hem of my dress and lifting it slowly, pulling it up over my head. The way he’s looking at me, with that scorching intensity, makes me feel like a match about to be struck.

Not until too late do I remember those goddamned granny panties.

“What are those?” William barks. He sounds pissed.

I look down at the ground and don’t say anything.

“Did I not tell you on Friday that you are expected to come to work with no panties on?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you purposefully disobeyed me?”

I can’t meet his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Godrich moves behind his desk and opens a drawer. He rummages around for something and then pulls out a huge pair of metal scissors. They gleam in the late afternoon sunlight that’s streaming into his office. I swallow.

Mr. Godrich approaches me slowly, twirling the shears in his hands.

“You really don’t leave me any choice here, Claire.”

“Yes, sir.” Those seem to be the only words I can get out of my mouth.

Mr. Godrich is standing so close to me I can feel his hot breath on my neck…and then the cold metal of the scissors against my belly.

I gasp at the shock of it, and at the primal fear that kicks in when a blade is resting against your skin. Mr. Godrich points the shears downwards and starts cutting, making his way through the thin fabric of those stupid panties.

As he cuts lower, the safe edge of the metal blade presses against the sensitive skin of my mound, and then lower still, until I feel it nudge against my clit.

I cry out but I’m terrified too move, in case I cause him to accidentally cut me.

He keeps cutting down, until the whole front half of the panties are shorn in half. Then he moves around behind me and does the same to the back. I can feel the cold metal of the scissors pressing against my ass, and then moving lower down, until his cutting meets up with where he’d cut the front.

Mr. Godrich gives a gentle tug, and my panties come apart and fall to the floor.

He takes a step backwards and looks me up and down. I’m still wearing my bra, but my lower half is completely naked.

Mr. Godrich steps towards me again. I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do. Just to be spiteful, he slides the blades of the scissors up through the middle of my bra. He snips, the bra springs open, exposing my breasts.

He slides the ruined bra off my shoulders and leaves me standing there naked in front of him.

“Thank you, Claire. You may put your dress back on now.”

Part of me is relieved, but the other part of me is let down. I try to burrow my mind into Mr. Godrich’s, to try to understand what he’s thinking, but he’s already sitting down at his desk, flicking through a sheaf of papers and booting up his computer. Whatever he’s thinking, it’s not about me.

My legs are shaking as I reach down to pick up my dress. I pull it on over my naked body, leaving my destroyed bra and panties on the floor. I start to walk out the door.

“Claire.” His voice stops me in my tracks.

“Yes, sir?”

“No panties tomorrow. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”