What Money Can Buy (7 page)

As we grew closer together, I was becoming far from that.

"Happy birthday, Lauren," he smiled.

I opened the small Tiffany
box, my heart racing. I knew what was inside. Everything that
had
happened, our whirlwind romance and
insatiable sexual appetites
, had led up to this point. Things like this just didn't happen to me. I had resigned myself to a life of having to work as hard as possible just to afford
to get by
, just to keep my father in good health. But all that was gone. My dad was so much better now, like a new man, and I literally owed his life to Jason. Everything else, the struggles to pay rent each month and to afford anything other than basic groceries, had washed away. My billionaire businessman had swept me off my feet, changed my life and given me everything I could possibly hope and dream of. It was like a fairytale come true.

Well,
a
dark fairytale at least. Our lives could hardly be called convention
al. Sex took place in offices, p
rivate
j
ets, alleyways and palaces. I had been spanked, gagged, and tied to headboards and bedposts. At least no
-
one could ever describe what we had as boring.

"Oh, Jason…"

A single cut diamond sparkled at me from a band of platinum. Jason took it out of the box and slipped it on to my engagement finger. "The last time we were
allegedly
married, it was built on a lie. I figured it might be time to do something about that. Will you…"

"Yes." I placed a finger to his lips. "No words. Just yes."

As we kissed, he reached back and picked up a box on the sofa. "Here," he said. "Open the rest of
your
present."

I removed the dark red satin ribbon and opened the box to find layers of tissue paper concealing clothes beneath. First, a black lace blindfold. Then, more deliciously sexy underwear. I giggled.

"There's more."

He handed me two more boxes, one containing black strappy high heels; the other a mini skirt and blouse.

"Since you're now my executive assistant, you need to dress appropriately for the office."

I looked at the
labels incredulously. "Jason…t
hese are two sizes too small."

He smiled a mischievous grin. "I know. Whatever
will you
do, Lauren? I'm sure you can pour your body into them, even if the buttons on the blouse
are
straining to contain your delicious
breasts. And as for the skirt…w
ell, that must be terribly difficult to walk
in
. You may have to just stop by my desk
for a rest and allow me to run my hands over the fabric stretched across your
tight little ass."

I raised an eyebrow. "
You’re a despicable, sexist pig.
And the blindfold?"

"That's not for the office. That's for tonight."

What did that mean? What was going to happen? I felt like that first time I was summoned to
h
is office, walking into
the unknown. A simple twist of f
ate
had brought me to King E
nterprises, a place where nobody else wanted to work and yet where I had been noticed on the very first day I arrived by the man I was now engaged to.

"What are you going to do to me, Mr King? Why do I need
a
blindfold?"

"To relinquish control. I'm an all
-
or
-
nothing man, you know that. And you never say no."

We smiled at each other. He was right, of course. He had a reputation as a bastard.

But he was my bastard, and I loved him so much I felt like my heart would burst.

####

Would you be interested in further stories featuring Jason and Lauren? If so, please get in touch. Your feedback would be hugely appreciated. I take all comments and suggestions very seriously, so let me know your thoughts!

Email:
[email protected]

As a token of my gratitude, please enjoy this additional
exclusive
short story with my compliments.
Never published anywhere else!

This would be the day Scott would finally cave in.

Each day had become more difficult than the last. Why did she have to do this to him? From the moment Laura ca
me into work that morning, it had
been one brush of the shoulder against each other to
o
many. He smell
ed
her perfume, felt the softness of her skin through
her
clothes. Month after endless month of resistance in the office had finally come to a head.

Scott was a good boss, a respected man. He had built this company from nothing, starting by providing office supplies to local businesses and gradually expanding until today, where he served thousands of customers generating millions of dollars in turnover. He had always been
straight-laced
, a
‘
what you see is what you get
’
kind of man.
He was smart, ruggedly handsome
and athletic for his age. Laura, on the other hand, was another breed entirely. She was the perfect woman,
a
vision of absolute beauty that def
ied her 42 years. She was tall and slim yet
possessed those womanly curves that drov
e every man who looked at her
want to be with her.

But she had much more than that. She had
presence
.

This morning, Scott was struggling to control himself.
Laura
was professional, but she knew she was beautiful. Each day, she wore
a skirt and blouse
that hugged her figure; high he
els that elevated her five-foot-seven frame by another five inches and pumped up the calf muscles in her already
toned legs. Scott couldn't stop thinking about her. Some days her legs were bare, perfectly shaved and smooth. Today, she had committed the ultimate sin – black stockings. He wanted to place his palms against
her ankles
and slowly move his hands up those
long,
long legs. Legs that went on for days. He would arrive at her skirt, slashed at the side, and slide it up her thighs, running the tips of his fingers over the lace of her stocking tops.

Scott shifted in his seat, an
erection starting to form down below.
Why did she have to do this to him?
Those little smiles, those sideways glances as she made a cup of coffee? The way she dangled a shoe off the end of her toes as she sat at her desk?
The c
urve of that
foo
t… Scott closed his eyes and imagined his hands massaging her
sole
through sheer nylon. She tortured him on a daily basis without saying a word,
threw
tiny daggers at his heart without mov
ing a muscle. Why did she tease
him so?

She's such a tease
, Scott thought.
Such a shameless prick tease
.

Five o'clock came and went, and the last of Scott's staff began to switch off their computers and gather up
their belongings. They would wave, quickly acknowledging Scott as they left. "Night,
Scott," came the voices, one after another.

"Good night," he replied again and again, his heart beating fast as each successive person left. Soon there would be only one person remaining in the office beside
s
him
.

Her.

Laura had reports to finish and had been working p
ast 6pm
all week. Scott knew this, and he also knew that it would be the sensible thing t
o go home and just let her lock
up. But he couldn't. He felt rooted to his executive chair like a man
stuck in
quicksand. He would open his desk drawer, take out
his keys, close it, open it again, p
ut his keys back in. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. Each attempt to leave ended in failure. He knew she was there, sitting with slender legs crossed at her desk. He could feel her presence, as if her breathing was sending out Morse code.

Come and get me, Scott. I'm here. I'm ready to be taken
.

Now
it was just the two of them alone
in the office. Scott
’s
throa
t went bone dry and he sipped
what remained of his water on his desk. He screwed up the little paper
cup
, dropped it gently in the waste bin, involuntarily
being
as quiet as possible. If he was quiet, maybe she couldn't get to him. If he just pretended he wasn't there, maybe he was safe.

I'm waiting for you, Scott. Don't keep me waiting much longer
.

He had promised himself he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't ever have sex at the office, risk the possibility of an employee who had forgotten something coming back and catching him. Worse still, Laura was the last person he should be doing
this
with – she was married, for God's sake. With children.

Sco
tt, I'm so wet. My panties… my th
in
lace panties are soaking. They’
re soaking for you, Scott.

Then he heard it - t
he scrape of
her
chair. Scott sat bolt upright, his heart pounding and threatening to burst through his chest. He remembered that gru
esome scene in the
A
lien
movie
and allowed himself to smile for a second. Then
they came towards him
.
Click click click
. One high heel, then another,
slowly
walking towards his office. She was doing it again. Teasing him without words,
driving him
wild without even being in sight.
T
he noise grew closer until her high heels clicked no more. He turned
a
round in his chair to see her standing in his doorway. She looked straight at him with sparkling green eyes, her long wavy red hair cascading over her tight, plunging V-neck top. She didn't say a word, but she
still spoke to him in his head.

Here I am, Scott. Please fuck me. Don't you want to fuck me?

She placed her back against the edge of the door frame and planted a high heel on it, bending her leg at the exact point where her s
kirt was slashed to the waist, l
ike some femme fatale fr
om one of Scott's beloved film n
oir DVDs.

"And then there were two," she said softly.

"What are you doing?" Scott replied, his voice breaking.

Laura smiled. "Do you want me to draw you a picture?"

Scott gasped.

"Come on Scott, don't make me have to seduce you."

She walked forward, edging ever closer to Scott's chair.
Part of him wanted to retreat
backwards, but he had a fleeting vision of him sliding away from her across the office on the wheels of his chair. The mere thought seemed pathetic, humiliating. She slipped a knee onto the seat between his legs, and started to press down against him. She hovered her lips close to his, the smell of Elizabeth Arden
‘Red D
oor
’ perfume intoxicating him.

"This is where I kiss you," Laura smiled. "And you
kiss me back
."

She did as she threatened, and Scott's
defenses
crumbled. He was hers now, evidence if it were ever needed that the female of the species is far more powerful than the male. He had wanted her, no doubt about it, but she had been the one to divide and conquer. He hated the stereotype; that a man could so easily be seduced by such a beautiful woman. But
clichés
were no longer at the forefront of his thoughts. As their tongues began to explore each other's mouths, his taste buds tingling from her
sheer
deliciousness, he was ready to accept defeat. His final white flag, one last chink of common sense in his moment of surrender, left his lips as he gently pushed
her away.

"Laura… w
e shouldn't do this. You’re a married woman."

A mischievous smile formed across her face. "My husband won’t
be offended
. He's what you'd call…open-minded."