“Sorry, Mr. Buchanan, I understand completely.”
After switching off the intercom, he turned and gave her that stare once more. The one that positively dripped with sexual intent. “Happy now?”
How the fuck was she supposed to answer that? When she finally spoke, her words were breathy. “What do you want from me?”
“Everything.”
Mac Buchanan clearly came equipped with immensely strong and productive thighs, because when he rose from his executive leather chair, taking her with him, he seemed to expend no effort whatsoever.
Impressive.
Holding her cradled in his arms as though she weighed nothing, he strode around to the other side of the desk. He then stared down into her eyes and without warning or need for permission, kissed her passionately on the lips. “You won’t regret your decision, honey.”
That kiss, his kiss, spoke volumes of what this man had to offer. Power. Wealth. Influence. Dominance. How could a simple touching of lips between a man and a woman transmit so much vital information? Jesus Christ, her pussy was soaking wet in anticipation of what he was about to do to her. Obviously, when it came to a game of top trumps, sexual arousal beat the guilt of selling herself hands down every time.
He was strong enough to hold her with one hand, because he swiped the desk clear of everything else with the other. A succession of telephones, intercoms, papers, pens, and even the diary clattered noisily to the floor.
“Marcy will hear.”
“So?”
If he didn’t care, why should she? She figured that Marcy didn’t need fact and reality to make up stories anyway.
Mac then plonked her heavily on the desk. Roughly taking hold of her thighs, he spread her legs as wide as her knee-length business skirt would allow. He then stood back, his all-knowing gaze seeming to forensically examine her.
“Hmm, that buttoned-up gray business suit you insist on wearing, makes you look as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. It makes you look like some sexually repressed spinster, but we both know that’s not the truth, don’t we, honey?”
“Yes.” She spoke the truth, too. The guilt was still there, but it lessened in direct proportion to her rising sexual arousal. “Yes. Oh, yes.” She suddenly realized that those three little words and the ease with which she’d delivered them made her sound wanton and available, and in a futile attempt to regain a little control, she breathily whispered, “Bastard. You don’t have to do this.”
Knowing full well the effect he was having on her, he smiled. “Oh, I’m a bastard all right, honey, but make no mistake, I’m the very same bastard you have sexual fantasies about. Don’t deny it.”
She couldn’t. She’d masturbated thinking about her new boss on several occasions, and enjoyed it immensely, too.
Using the tip of his index finger, he toyed with the top button of her blouse. “Strip. Let’s see what belongs to me for the next ten days.”
His approach was brash and uncompromising, but it summed up her situation perfectly. To be exact, she belonged to this guy for the next nine days, twenty-three hours and fifty minutes, during which time, she was his to control and use as he saw fit. Briefly looking into his beautiful silver gray eyes, she then allowed her gaze to drift to his crotch where his huge prick pushed expectantly against the inside of his pants. Suddenly, the idea of being this gorgeous man’s plaything didn’t seem unappealing at all.
“Strip, sir. Yes, sir. Whatever you say, Mr. Buchanan, sir.”
After shrugging the dull gray business jacket from her shoulders, she started on the buttons of her white silk blouse. Using just the index finger and thumb of her right hand, she deftly popped each one before pulling the delicate material from the waistband of her skirt. Mac was right. The whole outfit was dreary and sexless in the extreme.
Aged twenty-seven and well aware of how to massage a man’s ego, she kept her eyes focused solely on her boss. She then stood from the desk, and slowly, oh so very slowly, eased the blouse from her shoulders. After removing it completely, she held it at arm’s length for several agonizing seconds before letting it drop seductively to the floor, just like she imagined some sexy young starlet would do in a Hollywood movie.
Aware that her breasts heaved in her lacey white bra and that her pussy was undeniably wet, she ventured, “Like what you see, Mr. Buchanan?” She kept her voice low, and hopefully alluring.
Kendall heard a satisfied rumble resonate deep in his throat, and she knew he did.
“You’re exquisite. I wanted you the first time I saw you.”
“I know you did.” She’d wanted him, too, and if it hadn’t been for the shit hitting the proverbial fan with this whole unpleasant blackmail episode, she’d have willingly shared dinner with him that night, at the most exclusive restaurant in New York, and then afterward…well, who knew where events would have led. Any red-blooded woman would be crazy to turn down an offer like that. However, his opinion of her had now changed significantly, and she figured he saw her as no more than a corporate thief. One who’d had the audacity to steal from the legend that was Mac Buchanan. She felt bitter and saddened that he saw her as a selfish woman, one whose interests lay purely in the material world. Deep down she longed to scream at the top of her voice, “I didn’t steal the money for myself, you arrogant prick. I took it to save the life of my best friend.” But for now, she had to keep such negative emotions under control, because Ashley’s life depended on her doing so.
Of course, he was totally unaware of her inner turmoil, and for all her imagined character flaws, he was still a man, one who still wanted to fuck her senseless for the next ten days. With this in mind, she continued with the seduction of her boss. “Zippers. Do you like the sound they make, sir?”
He nodded and smiled. “You bet.”
Most men did. Who knew why? She figured they were probably hardwired that way from birth. Relentlessly keeping her eyes focused on his, she slowly pulled it down, enjoying the sexy sound it made as much as he obviously did. Kendall wondered if he’d soon demand she do the same with the zipper on his pants. Oh, Lordy. Just the thought of releasing his huge dick made her pussy clench with wanton need. Reluctantly dragging her thoughts away from the sexy mental picture she’d created, Kendall then popped the single button, allowing her work skirt to drop to her ankles in a hushed swish, where it pooled obediently at her feet. As she stepped from it, she heard his sharp intake of breath. He liked what he saw. Appreciation was good. Every girl should be appreciated.
He took a step toward her. “Ah, the sexual tigress hidden beneath the demure librarian. Stocking and suspenders. Every man’s fantasy.”
“Did you know I wore them to work?”
“Mmm, I guessed, I hoped, I fantasized that you did.” He took two further steps, until he was right on her, his lips brushing against hers once more. Mac’s sophisticated cologne invigorated her senses, but such was his sheer closeness, she also detected the natural scent of primitive Neanderthal man lying just beneath the surface. She guessed, and truth be known, now hoped, that this part of his character would come to the fore.
It did.
With an energy that shocked her, he immediately dropped to his knees and buried his head between her legs.
“Goddamn, you woman. You’ve no right to smell this good.” He then curled his fingers around the edge of her skimpy silk panties and pulled—hard.
Oh, dear, God, the point of no return had just been reached as he ripped them from her body, which trembled with a mixture of fear of the unknown and pure sexual desire.
“Goddamn, I love that fucking noise.” The way he spoke left her in no doubt he’d performed this very act of dominance on an endless selection of willing women. There was more though, as she knew there would be. Their sexual union was still in its preliminary stages, and she sucked in a sharp intake of breath when he roughly took hold of her left leg and hooked it over his shoulder, shamelessly exposing her pussy. Like a man possessed, he buried his head between her legs again, this time the slender protection her panties offered now gone.
“Mmm, so smooth, so soft, so fucking fragrant.”
Kendall bucked and squirmed when he expertly retracted her clitoral hood before instantly circling her sexual pearl with his tongue, first in a clockwise direction, then counterclockwise. Dear God. This guy knows exactly how to please a woman.
“Don’t,” she whispered, or was that whimpered? She meant the exact opposite of course, but she couldn’t stop herself from fisting her hands into his gorgeous jet-black locks. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
He momentarily took his head from her wanton wetness and stared up into her eyes. Like a startled rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding car, she stared right back. Jesus fucking Christ, what was it with his all-knowing penetrating gaze? It was as if he possessed the ability to reach deep into her soul, extracting intimate secrets she’d thought forever buried.