"I need this job," I repeat. "I'll do anything to keep it. Please." My fingers are white from pressure as I push down on his desk, leaning over it. "Please, Kodiche."
His gaze turns curious. "You should really think about that before you make this offer, Vivian," he whispers. There's a warning rumble of a threat to his voice, and I don't know what it means, but if there's a chance to keep my job, I have to take it.
"I'm serious. I'll do anything."
His smirk is playful when it comes, and his lips shape the words carefully as he replies, "People better than you have begged much more elegantly."
"I don't . . . How can I prove that I deserve this job?" The way he's acting is creating goosebumps up my arms. I think it's nerves, but the longer I stand near him, watching his soft lips in their perfect smirk, the more I think the ripples in my belly are turning into something sinful. Is my boss actually flirting with me?
"Listen better; that's a start."
Oh, shit. He is flirting. I think over all his words, lingering on how he'd mentioned begging. He wants me to do it elegantly... and I can sense there's something growing between us in this moment. It's a dark tension that clenches at my heart; it makes my knees weak, and that makes what I do next more natural, though not at all easy.
Going around his desk, I drop down on my knees beside his chair. He's not facing me, which I'm grateful for. My face is already burning red, I don't need his open thighs level with my scrunched up mouth.
Hanging my head, I take a single, deep breath. He hasn't started laughing at me; that's how I know this is what he wants from me. "Please, Mr. Lamant. I'm begging you, let me keep my job."
The squeak of his chair is my only warning before he spins to face me, his legs splayed out to either side. My eyes flick up; I'm inches away from the front of his pants. I don't know if it's worse to be staring at his hidden cock, or up at his mysterious expression.
I dare to look up, just once, because I need to know what he's thinking. But behind his richly dark eyes there's nothing but hunger. My boss is radiating with a wicked energy, like he's some ancient king ready to swoop down on me and take what he wants.
His silence gives him power. He's waiting for me to push this game further, leaving it to me.
Swallowing, I force myself to keep looking in his eyes. "I'm ready to do whatever you need me to. I'll be a model employee, if you'll just give me the chance. Please," I beg. My fingers fumble with my skirt hem, fidgeting as I try to come up with more to say, more to plead my case.
He leans forward, one elbow bracing him on his desk. With the windows behind him showing our city's skyline, his handsome face is cast in shadow. I'm sure he's enjoying this. What's worrying me more is how much I'm starting to, as well.
I see his long fingers flex above me. My body throbs with tendrils of want. He's never looked at me this way; even my dirty nights of fantasizing while I touched myself couldn't have visualized the truth of his dominance. "Please." I don't know what I'm asking him for, not at this point, but when he reaches for me, I think he does.
His hand is hot as it cups my chin, and I'm held captive by the light touch. We both freeze; I can feel him silently daring me to get up and walk away before we go too far. We need to snap out of this, to stop this staring match as the embers in his eyes threaten to burn me.
It doesn't feel weird anymore, kneeling at his feet. With his hand on my chin, the approving passion in his eyes, I can do anything he asks.
"You have one chance, Vivian." He's smirking at me as he speaks, knowing how he affects me. "You're going to come to my house tomorrow. You have seven days to prove you can listen to and obey your boss. If you succeed, you stay. If you fail . . ." He trails off with a thoughtful look. "Well, if you fail, you'll be fired with no recourse. Today's actions would have anyone less-deserving fired without a second chance."
His thumb sweeps up over my chin and brushes across my lips, tickling in the best of ways. I can feel it everywhere. I know my boss shouldn't be touching me, especially when we're in his office. Why is this so damn hot?
"Until tomorrow, Vivian. Make sure your desk is tidied up and all personal effects you wouldn't want someone else touching are taken home. We'll have a temp working while you're relearning how to be a proper assistant to me."
I'm still kneeling when he gets up and leaves, and it takes me a good five minutes to find the strength to stand. My shaky knees have little to do with my fear and all to do with the arousal making itself known.
Did that really just happen? Am I actually going to go through with whatever he has planned for me? It's crazy and stupid and I know I should rethink this (probably check myself into a mental ward while I'm at it) but as I grab my things from my desk minutes later, I know I'm going to see my boss tomorrow morning at his house.