I bounced on the couch, thinking to myself. With time to spare, I crept over to the lamp. Crawling across the couch on all fours, reaching up to switch the lamp on, I didn’t expect what came next.
As soon as my hand grazed the lamp switch, hidden beneath the shade, a man cleared his throat behind me. Startled, I jumped forward and fell across the arm of the couch. My stomach landed on the arm and my feet slipped on the smooth leather, flailing out and leaving me in a mess.#p#分页标题#e#
“Excuse me,” the man said. I looked over my shoulder at him. “You aren’t Daphne.”
He was looking at me! Not just looking at me, but something more. I don’t know why, but I felt a cold chill creep through my body as his eyes lingered on me. From my heels to my calves to the skirt of the dress that Asher found for me. Not typical business attire, but it was the best he could find on short notice and he said it would be fine. Who was I to argue with him?
The man followed the curves of my legs up to my ass, raising a brow at the patterned red, beige, and white stripes on my black dress. His eyes went higher, peeking at my back and my solid black suit jacket, then lower, to the side, staring at the curves of my breasts pressed against the arm of the couch. And, finally, to my face, where he leered at me with the most indecent smirk I’d ever seen.
“No,” I said, feeling anxious. Something dropped into the pit of my stomach, a huge lump, and I couldn’t get rid of it. “Asher asked me to help you today. Daphne’s on vacation.”
“Asher?” he asked.
“Sorry. Mr. Landseer. You’re Solomon, right?” As soon as I said it, I doubted the earlier woman’s advice. “I mean, Mr. Royce? Um…”
“Solomon will be fine,” he said.
I gulped. “Yes, sir.”
He flashed me a wicked grin. “Sir is fine, too. What’s your name?”
“Jessika,” I whispered. I felt so uncomfortable, and belatedly realized I was still draped across his office couch like some provocative, decorative blanket. I tried to fix myself, to at least move into a sitting position, but my shoe’s heel was stuck. I pushed my other foot against the couch, trying to free myself, but it didn’t help.
Solomon sauntered over to me and assessed the situation. Without warning, he pried my foot loose and then picked me up as if I were some object to be rearranged. Flipping me over, he dropped me onto the couch. I landed on my back with a thud, head plopping against the couch’s cushioned arm, feet kicking out towards the opposite couch arm.
“There,” he said.
I tried to thank him, or at least I intended on thanking him. I did up until he placed his knee between my legs and lowered himself on top of me. Not entirely, but he had one leg between my thighs and a hand beside my arm, propping him up right above me. He stared at me, lascivious, a smirk on his face.
“Did Asher tell you that you were to do anything I required?” he asked. “Absolutely anything I found necessary?”
I gulped and nodded my head. “Yes, he did, but…”
Solomon’s knee shifted and he pressed it up against me harshly. The top of his thigh smashed against the center of my body, pushing my skirt up and revealing my pantyhose covered thighs. He ground his knee against my crotch and I squirmed hard against him, completely caught off guard.
“Anything,” he said. “And what I need right now is…”
“No,” I whimpered.
“What did you say to me?” he asked. To reinforce the anger in his voice, he grabbed my face with his free hand. His fingers squeezed against my cheek and he forced me to look at him.
“I…” I tried to talk but it was difficult. I was scared and worried and this wasn’t at all like any time with Asher. With Asher I felt—and I don’t know why I felt this—safer. Asher looked angry sometimes, but he wasn’t really angry. He wouldn’t hurt me, and he wouldn’t do anything to make me upset. On the contrary, Solomon looked full of rage.
He pressed his knee against me harder and moved a hand towards my breasts. He squeezed them roughly above my dress and jacket and looked at me with a long, hard glare. When I didn’t say anything(when I couldn’t say anything, I was so scared), he released my cheeks and moved his hand lower. Past my chest, towards my stomach, to the hem of my dress. He grabbed at the skirt and wrenched it up, revealing my pantyhose covered crotch. His fingers looped into the waistband of my pantyhose, by the center of my stomach. Cold, rough fingers, reaching lower. Fingers that were going to touch my slit and…
I was wet. I was wet but I was not intentionally aroused. I did not want Solomon Royce to do anything to me. When Asher had looked at me with passion and anger after I’d destroyed his book, and then picked me up and tossed me onto the alder wood table in his private meeting room, I’d been shocked and somewhat scared, but not like this. I’d… I’d really wanted to know what Asher would do, and when he did it I felt ecstatic. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, and perhaps I should have been more upset, but at the time I wasn’t. And then, later, after getting to know him a little more, I was even less upset. I really liked Asher. I liked him a lot.