Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(181)
“You’d snap like a twig,” he whispered into her ear, holding her writhing body still with his. “But I don’t want to break you.”
“You want me to bend,” Heidi agreed, molding herself to him like liquid, tilting her head back so she could see his face, meet his eyes.
“Yes.” He sat back in his chair, pulling her with him, cradling her now, and she blinked in surprise but settled her head comfortably and happily against his chest, wondering if that was it, if her punishment was over. “You don’t just need a firm hand, you need a steady one, don’t you? You want someone to guide you… give you direction...” he mused, pulling the hem of her skirt down primly to her knees. “You crave it.”
Covered now, she had never felt more naked.
“I’m always listening.” His whispered words made her shiver. “I’m always paying attention.”
She couldn’t help the slight, slow grind she was doing in his lap—it was nothing compared to what she really wanted to do. The hardness of his cock against her behind even through his trousers made her crazy—she wanted to get down on her knees and worship it, she wanted him to bend her over the desk and fuck her, she wanted him to use her, take her, fill her, push her, pull her…
But Kaiser was the picture of self-restraint. He held her still until she finally submitted to his will, relaxing against him, sighing deeply as he cradled her in his arms. If someone had told her a month ago that she would be sitting in Warren Kaiser’s lap, in Warren Kaiser’s office, after having been spanked by that same man, she would have told them they were a few stitches short of a seam, but here she was.
Here she was. And there was nowhere else she would rather be.
Chapter Five
Heidi had never felt more glamorous, thanks to a twenty-two-hundred dollar Versace black sleeveless corset-back dress, her hair newly cut, highlighted and styled, and her makeup professionally applied for the first time in her life. Aside from the outfit—something a little more day-to-evening than usual that she’d picked from the closet that morning in anticipation of her afternoon appointment—it was an incredible lunch-time transformation, and she couldn’t wait for Kaiser to see it when she swept off the elevator with her bag full of creams and lipsticks and hair conditioners and styling products.
The bubble of her enthusiasm popped almost immediately when she saw Kaiser’s door open and heard the high, light laugh of a woman coming from his office. Heidi’s knees felt suddenly weak and she stopped, heart hammering, face flushed, blinking in the direction of the sound—a low murmur now, and yes, again, the laugh. It was an intimate laugh, a sexy laugh, intentionally so, Heidi mused. She continued to her desk, her wobbly legs just barely getting her to her chair, and she stashed her shopping bag underneath.
“Oh Warren, don’t be such a boy scout!” the woman pouted, and Heidi moved her computer mouse, ending the screen saver—Kaiser’s 2008 runway show in Paris, a breathtaking loop she watched daily as they were now heavily preparing for the 2009 version which she hoped to see “live” in just a few weeks—and peeking around the monitor in an attempt to see without being too obvious.
“Can we focus here, Andrea?”
Andrea. She knew immediately, before she ever saw her, that it was Andrea Paxton’s arm she glimpsed snaking around Kaiser’s neck from behind, her blonde head dipping down to murmur into his ear.
“I am focused, Warren darling.” Andrea tugged gently at his tie before her fingers followed it like an arrow down his chest, heading for his lap. Heidi sat frozen, furious, sure she was about to witness an afternoon quickie she didn’t want to know about, let alone see.
“Your dresses will be completed this week.” Kaiser stood, moving away from the table where Andrea’s designs—not hers, mine! Heidi fumed—were spread out. “We’ll meet downtown this weekend for the pre-show. I think we’re almost done here for the day.”
Surprised by his obvious rebuff, Heidi watched, unnoticed, as he moved to his desk to pick up the phone. Andrea stood near the window, her back turned, a woman clearly unaccustomed to not getting what she wanted.
Heidi decided she didn’t want to see any more, getting up quietly from her desk and heading down the hall to the kitchen. It would be best not to have any confrontations, she thought, pouring a cup of coffee—exactly why, she didn’t know, since she didn’t drink it—and standing there with the warm mug cupped in her hands. All the mugs were the same, with the Kaiser logo and his signature curlicue K.