His Secretary:Undone(18)

His nostrils flare. With his eyes still burning into mine, I try to figure it out. Try to understand why he's so angry.

What unspoken rule of author conduct I've broken.

But no. That's not the problem, is it?

He's bristling all over, and I can practically smell the testosterone.  He saw me giggling with those hot, ripped guys and he was jealous.

Oh, this is too good.

My insides are molten jello. My heart's beating so fast I feel like  it'll break free, and I realize, oh shit, I like that he's jealous.

I want him to be jealous.

He's still holding my panties.

"Give those back," I tell him, softly. "Please."

His eyes are very dark. His lips, inches from mine.

"No," he whispers.

I smell the whiskey on his breath. He's probably been in the hotel bar  this whole time, nursing his hurt ego. Imagining all the naughty things  I've been getting up to at the party.

Oh, this is rich. I feel giddy. Alive.

Aroused.

Licking my lips, I make a move for the panties, but he feints to the side. Holding them above his head, he steps back from me.

There's a hint of a wicked smile, but it's not quite coming to life.

"Give," I insist, going after him, but he's a little too quick for me.  He slides out of reach, prowling around the bed to the far corner.

Instead of chasing him, I take the shortest distance between two points.  Which naturally means crawling across the bed to reach him.

His eyes narrow, and he takes in a sharp breath as I traverse the  mattress. When I reach the other side, I make a lunge for him, but he  dodges expertly and I land on the floor in a heap.

"Shit." He's kneeling on the floor next to me, brushing the hair from my eyes as I squirm. "Are you okay?"

Adrian's eyes fill with concern, and I make a small noise, scrunching my face up in mock pain.

"Shit," he says again, forgetting about the panties. Lowering his hand within reach.

Swift as a striking snake, I grab the panties and jump to my feet. With  another curse, he goes after me, stumbling over a pair of his own shoes,  but still reaching the connecting door at the exact same moment I do.  Blocking it with his body.

"Bitch," he growls.

I grin, holding the panties behind my back.

"This door's locked, remember?" he points out, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Oh, fuck.

We both run for the main door, but he beats me again, flattening against it and smirking his triumph.

"You're not getting out of this room with those," he informs me, slightly breathless.

"Why?" I'm laughing. It's impossible not to laugh at the absurdity of  the situation, even as my body aches to pounce on him and fuck him  senseless.

"Because I said so." He's smirking. "Because what I say goes."

Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He's using a Dirk line on me.

That rat bastard.

"I don't remember Dirk stealing panties," I tell him, ignoring the slick  wetness between my thighs. So very noticeable, now that my panties are  in my hand instead of where they belong.         

     



 

"It was cut from the final draft." He stands up straighter, leaning  towards me. His hand snaking around my body. I pretend like I don't  notice what he's doing, but of course I do.

At the last moment, I take a step back. He's left briefly unbalanced, but recovers quickly.

"Just give them to me," he says, in that persuasive tone I've heard him  use with his peers. "They're mine, anyway. I paid for them."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," I tell him, stepping backwards again.

"That's not even close to true," he says.

I take another step, and I realize I'm very close to the wall. In a moment, I'll be caged in.

"Give," he whispers.

"No," I whisper back, flattening against the wall. My hands, and the panties, are still behind my back.

"You know what happens when you tell a man like me 'no?'"

It's not a Dirk line, but it should be. My whole body is thrumming with  anticipation, and I don't even spare a thought for why the fuck he's  suddenly so interested in me.

And my panties.

"I'm guessing … " My voice sounds husky, dripping sex, and I can't control it. " … punishment?"

"That's right." His lips curve into a smile that makes me quiver. "Tell  me, Meghan - did anybody give you your birthday spanking this year?"

My heart's jackhammering in my chest. Dirk gave Amanda a birthday  spanking once, and she did so enjoy it. Me? I've never been spanked, to  my memory. Not for any reason, punishment or otherwise. But I've thought  about it.

Oh yeah, I've thought about it.

"One more chance." He raises a finger, in indicate the number. But all I can think about is that finger sinking inside me.

Shit, I am too far gone.

"Give me a million more chances," I tell him. "You still can't have them. They're mine."

With a snarl, he grabs my arm and yanks me forward. During our little  game, I almost forgot how easily he could overpower me. Dragging me over  to the sofa by the TV, he sits down, knees splayed, finally letting go  of me. He pats his thigh, looking up at me with an expression that  allows no refusal.

I swallow hard.

"Like this?" I whisper.

It seems so intimate. I'd rather he bend me over a table, even if that's a significantly less flattering position.

"Like this." His eyes are like tempered steel. "Come on. You had your chance."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I drape myself across his lap. I can feel him,  hard as a rock, twitching against my belly. God, I just want him to fuck  me.

I've still got my panties clutched in my hand, but for the moment, he  seems to have forgotten about them. He pulls my skirt up over my waist,  and I'm trembling. What if the reality of how I look under my clothes  doesn't live up to his fantasy?

Judging by the sharp intake of breath, I haven't disappointed him. His fingers caress gently, but only for a moment.

At the first smack of his palm, I cry out. I can't help it. The feeling  is so intense, so perfect, and my core quivers and aches. I've never  been so turned on in my life.

"Shh," he whispers. He grabs the panties, but I don't let go. "Do I have to gag you with these?"

I shake my head.

He spanks me again, and again, and again. I squirm and whimper, staying  as quiet as I can, and I dimly hear him groan and curse as I unwittingly  rub my body against his cock.

Six. I count six. He still owes me twenty more.

How on earth will I survive? I already feel like I'm about to explode in a cloud of lust.

Growling, he shoves his hand between my legs, dipping his fingers into  my wetness. I buck and moan, my body loving the intrusion.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Get up."

I manage to stand, on shaky legs. Staring at him, cheeks burning, my  skirt lazily falling down to cover me. He's jumping to his feet a moment  later, fumbling with his zipper. I watch him take it out - I didn't get  a good look in the pool. It's exactly as long and thick as it felt,  curving upwards slightly, glistening with precum. My mouth is watering.

"I can't wait." His eyes rake over me, drinking me in. "You'll get the rest of your punishment with my cock inside you."

Voice stolen, I nod, bending over and grabbing the back of the sofa. He  makes a soft noise of approval at the view, and I hear him cursing and  fumbling with a condom wrapper.         

     



 

A moment later he's at my entrance, bluntly pushing inside. I let out a  ragged moan, arching my back and inviting him deeper. He waits until  he's buried to the hilt and smacks me again, the reverberations making  me clench.

"Fuck," he whispers, his fingers gripping my soft flesh.

I'm drunk on him, but I still have enough presence of mind to laugh.

"Think you can last nineteen more strokes?" I tease him, breathlessly.

Adrian growls, spanking me again. "I can last as long as it takes," he  promises, rocking his hips against mine, a slow, subtle rhythm, before  he pulls out and slams all the way in again. I cry out, forgetting to be  mindful of the other guests. "As long as it takes to fuck the smart-ass  out of you."

I can't help it. I'm still laughing.

"Impressive." My voice catches when he smacks me again, jolting my whole body with pleasure.

"You're damn right."

I don't count, but I'm pretty sure he does it. The first part, anyway.  Actually fucking the smart-ass out of me would be quite an  accomplishment.

Every breath is either a gasp or a moan. Our encounter in the pool was  pretty damn explosive, considering the limitations, but this is in  another level. It's absolutely unreal. My brain loses the capacity for  rational thought, and I start to clench around him, my body arching with  pleasure.

He stops.

He fucking stops.

My moan takes on a distinctly different meaning. Twisting my head around  to glare at him, I start to protest, but the look in his eyes silences  me.

"Did I say you could come?"

I grip the back of the sofa tighter. "No."

"I can't hear you." His fingers mimic mine, digging into my hips even deeper.

"NO!" I practically shout.