“Bend over the desk.” I articulate every word carefully, but without irritation. I am the fucking picture of patience even while my cock throbs in its prison. Her eyes cut over to my desk, and then lock back on my eyes.
“Without hesitation, Ms. Schaffer,” I remind her with a half-smile. She’s going to love the hell out of this. She just has to let herself.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Squaring her shoulders, she steps over to the desk and bends over it.
My god, is she a gorgeous goddamn creature. She’s already trying to do her best, even though she doesn’t know all the rules yet.
I step over to her, placing one hand on the small of her back. “Good girl.” She has her head turned toward me just enough for me to see her bite her lip, the blush spread across her cheeks.
I’ve just found her favorite phrase.
That was easier than I thought it would be.
Cate might have complicated reasons for subjecting herself to the torture of working for Sarzó every day for more than a year, but her deepest self is simple. And filthy.
“A couple of adjustments. Your breasts should be firmly against the surface of the desk.” I press down, and she offers no resistance. “And your legs…” I move behind her and put one scuff-less, shining shoe between her heels, pressing outward so she’s forced to spread her legs farther apart.
“Have you made a note of this position?”
“Yes.”
I tap her back twice. A beat goes by before she remembers. “Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“Good girl.” A tiny shiver of delight.
While she holds herself in that position, practically vibrating with excitement and nerves, I run my hands over every inch of her back, her waist, her hips, finally moving down to the hem of her skirt.
“Did you follow my instructions?”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” Her hands are pressed flat against the empty surface of my desk, and she tenses as I lift her skirt, pressing it up to her waist so that her firm, round ass is exposed to me.
“Oh, Ms. Schaffer,” I say, allowing a hint of disappointment to enter my voice.
She swallows, says nothing. Amazing how quickly she’s catching on to our little game.
“I see you’ve tried to follow my instructions. Unfortunately, you’ve fallen a bit short. You should understand that when I make a request, you should do everything in your power to fulfill it to the best of your ability. These are red panties…” I trace one of the lacy seams with a fingertip. “…but they’re a little threadbare. That’s not acceptable.”
“No, Mr. Hunter,” she whispers.
“Do you know what happens to people who don’t meet my expectations?” I keep my voice even and low.
“No, Mr. Hunter.” A hitch in her voice when she says my name.
“They get punished.”
She takes in a sharp breath and starts to push herself upward.
Stops.
Lowers herself back down.
My god, she is perfect for me.
I push that thought aside. Perfection or no, there is no woman who will ever be allowed to have such an influence on me.
“This is our first meeting, so I’ll go easy on you.”
Her shoulders relax.
“Hold still.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down to her knees, exposing the smooth, white skin of her ass, slightly parted by the spread of her legs. It takes everything I have not to groan out loud at the sight of it.
I want her so badly.
I might have been lying when I said I wouldn’t punish her today.
It won’t be a punishment she’s expecting.
The pink folds of her pussy are already glistening, wet, and all I’ve done is bend her over my desk.
Yes. This is exactly what she needs.
I catch a glimpse of the clock. Fuck. Ten minutes.
In one step I’m back beside her, one hand putting pressure on the small of her back, one hand on her inner thigh, sliding up to meet her wetness. She moans when my fingers make contact with her folds like she hasn’t been touched in forever.
She probably hasn’t.
The thought that I’m the first in a long time makes my breath catch in my throat, but I don’t let on. Instead, I collect her wetness on my fingertips and start to explore every single inch of her, every single fold, every single crease.
It drives Cate wild.
Inside of a minute, she’s struggling to keep her legs spread and barely succeeding, pressing back against my hand, writhing. I stroke her in a measured rhythm and her breath matches it, little gasps that are so fucking hot I want to fuck her right now, right here, the first meeting. I’ve already had to wait too long.
But I can control myself.
I need to show her that I control her as well.