"Sir?" she repeats when I don't reply, breaking me out of my reverie. My cock is twitching in my pants, and I take a deep breath before replying.
"Yeah. How're things going?" Damn, I sound like a moron.
"They're going fine, sir." She continues to hold her facade. But beneath, I can tell it's hard for her too. "Elena told me I had to get some projections ready, and I've already pulled the data. It's printing now."
"That's good," I reply, still feeling like an idiot.
"Is there anything else you need from me, sir?"
Yeah, I need you in my lap with your tits in my face as you ride me in that skirt. It's almost criminal the thoughts she invokes in me.
I part my lips to tell her that I want to see her again. That the night before, she awakened a need in me that I haven't felt for a long time. But then I think twice. "No, thank you. That is all."
She nods respectfully to me and turns away.
"Roxy," I call.
She stops and turns, one graceful hand on the door handle, and the words dry up in my throat again.
Tell me you want it, I think to myself. Tell me you want me to take you, bend you over my desk and fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Her lips are parted, and I imagine her saying yes if I just say the words. "Enjoy your day."
Something flashes in her eyes, so fast that I can barely register it. "You too, sir."
Then she's gone, the door closing softly behind her. I drop my head to the desk, thunking softly on my blotter, feeling a cauldron of emotions swirling in my gut. I know I shouldn't be doing this. Maybe I should have her transferred to another floor so this doesn't get out of hand. But when I think about actually doing it, I know I can't. Looking up as my email dings softly with another request from corporate, I realize one thing.
"I've got to get myself under control," I mutter.
Over the next several days, I do my best to juggle work, overseeing the night club, and basically being both Mom and Dad for Sophie. During the work day, I spend my time concentrating on staying busy and settling into my new role of playing house-cleaner for the company, keeping thoughts of Roxy from my mind. I even use my lunch hours to use the in-building fitness center, hoping to bury my desire under a giant pile of sweaty tank tops and a couple of thousand pounds of iron.
After work, I drop by the nightclub to check in with Nathan. So far, Mr. Creepy Bastard hasn't popped back up, and Andre is itching to get his hands on him. Nathan, too, and I'm not sure which of them would be preferable.
Even with all I've got going on, my thoughts constantly return to Roxy. I can't help but wonder what she's doing, if she's thinking about me, and how I can spend more time with her. She's a sweet distraction. Throughout the morning, I find myself looking at her through the big window of my office whenever she's moving around the room.
She's bedeviling, that's all there is to it. The sway of her hips as she walks, the way she parts those sweet, luscious lips . . . it's maddening. My cock is begging to have them wrapped around it, sucking and licking till I explode down her throat.
"Will that be all, sir?" Elena says, pulling me from my reverie. She's just finished giving me the files I asked for earlier, and I realize that it's nearly lunch time.
Thank God the weekend is finally here. I'm ready to relax and release some tension. I need something besides the constant distraction of Roxy.
"That's all. Any weekend plans, Elena?"
She beams at me, backing up. "Nothing much, sir. I can say it's been a good week with you here. I won't have to drink half the amount I thought I'd have to."
I laugh, and this time, I don't tell her to come back and call Roxy. I haven't seen her all morning. But I've been trying to stay away, avoiding looking out my window on purpose. The sexual tension has grown so much between us you could cut it with a knife. People are going to notice if I keep it up.
I go back to my laptop, looking at what I was supposed to be doing for the past hour, which is the damn manager evaluation report. It's nothing formal. Corporate will grind through this for weeks before they do anything, but I still need to get my recommendations right. I start pounding away at my keyboard, knowing exactly who I want to get rid of, and just as I hit Send on the email, my cellphone buzzes. It's Nathan. "What's up, Nathan?"
"Remember when I said we should have theme nights?" Nathan asks immediately, no ‘hi' or ‘what's up'. "Well, you know the bartender, Sarah? She thought it was a good idea to start a karaoke night. And I thought tonight would be a good time to do a sort of short test run. It's Friday, and a lot of people will be here to test the reception. Hell, I might even get up there and make some bitches' ears bleed."
I think, shaking my head. I'm really not sure about karaoke. But then it hits me . . . Roxy. I know I shouldn't be thinking about seeing her, but a part of me knows that she needs this. "Let's do it. Book it, Nathan. In fact, later tonight, let's talk. Maybe we can do an open mic night or maybe a singing contest, find some local talent that'll kick some ass."
"My fuckin' man! I like the way you think," Nathan says. "All right, I'll book it and see if we can get some social media marketing going on. See you later."
I get up from my seat, putting my phone away. It's near lunch time, and I see my workout bag sitting on my spare chair, ready for me, but first . . . I look through the glass into the main room. I don't see her at her cubicle, which until now, I thought was cursed since I could see directly inside.
I grab my bag and walk out into the main room, looking around. Finally, just as I'm about to give up and head downstairs, I see Hannah, her close friend, coming out of the bathroom.
"Hello, boss," Hannah says, all business when I walk up, though I see the mischievous spark in her eyes. I can see why she and Roxy are good friends. There's a lot of smarts in that wiseass look.
"Have you seen Roxy?" I ask, trying my best to keep my voice neutral.
Her eyes furtively flit back, and she looks me up and down but doesn't push it. I wonder what secrets she's hiding. I know they have probably talked about me. "She went down to the mail room to get something for Matt."
"Matt?"
"Yeah, you know . . ." she says before pointing. "The guy that works over there."
I look over, seeing whom she's talking about. I've seen him around. He's got a smug countenance that puts me off. "And does Roxy report to him?"
"No, just-"
"Then that's going to have to stop. Matt can get his own stuff, don't you think?" I ask, glancing back at Hannah.
Hannah nods, smiling a little. "That's what I always say, but he tries to use his seniority to get her."
‘What's his position?" I ask. "I don't know the full chain around here just yet."
"I honestly have no idea. He's Byron's buddy, that's all I know," Hannah says.
I'm going to have a talk with Matt, I think inwardly while shrugging. "Thanks. You have yourself a good weekend," I say, holding back my grin. If things go right, I'll probably be seeing her tonight if I can convince Roxy to come to the club.
"You too, Mr. Stone."
I leave and take the elevator to the second floor, where I see the signs for the mail room. I don't see her when I go in, and I wonder for a moment if Hannah's lied to me. But then I see her, down the hall with a stack of papers in hand. I pick up my speed and catch her just before the elevator doors close.
I stick my foot in the doors before it can close completely and step inside. Roxy's lips part in surprise when she sees me, and she practically stumbles back against the wall. "Mr. Stone," she breathes. "What . . .?"
I grin as I press the Close button, then the button for the fitness center. As soon as the doors meet, I turn and advance toward her, caging her in with one hand on either side of her. She shrinks further against the wall as nerves pulse from her in waves.
Her perfume wafts to my nostrils. I love the fragrance, a serious yet still light tone. She even has sultry makeup to go with it. I can't help it-being this close to her and looking into her beautiful eyes, my cock grows in my pants.
"You've been avoiding me," I say. "Why?"
She ducks her head. "We agreed that we'd be professional."
"I didn't agree to anything," I counter. "You said we should be professional." I know I shouldn't be doing this. I'm her boss and I am dangerously over the line on sexual harassment if she wants to nail my ass. But I don't think I can abide by the rules. "I don't agree."
She's panicked, her eyes darting back and forth as I move in closer, pressing my hard body against her, letting her feel me. All of me. "But, sir . . ."