Seven Days With Her Boss
By: Penny Wylder“What were you thinking?” he asks. When I refuse to answer, he grabs me by the jaw and forces me to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”
“I can’t. I don’t remember,” I lie.
He licks his lips, a hint of moisture left behind, and he smiles at me. “I think I can guess, since you are having some sort of memory problem. You want me to kiss you. No, not just kiss you. You want me bury my hands in your hair and have my way with your mouth, kissing you until you’re ready to pass out from how bad you want me to fuck you. Is that what you want?” He leans in, hovering. I could stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. I could, but if we’re going to kiss, I need him to do it. That way I can tell myself after that I was going along with what he wanted.
Kodiche’s lips are almost touching me, his nose brushing against the bridge of mine, and I part my mouth slightly in anticipation. Waiting . . . waiting . . . Silently begging him to kiss me, I know that I need to know what it’s like. I need at least that much.
He’s gone, backing off, and I’m cold as the air rushes over me in the wake of his absence. Strong hands twirl me around in a practiced motion that I won’t let make me jealous for whomever he’s done this to before. My pants are on the floor before I can catch my balance. “Stay there, hands on the desk.” Kodiche hovers behind me, and even though I’m facing away from him, I can sense when he kneels.
I’m shaking as I stand there, body held in a position that is mortifying. My ass is right there in his face as he reaches for my feet, helping me out of my flats and pants. “You have a very nice ass, Vivian.” Teasing fingers slide along the edge of my panties, barely touching me. “These panties need to go. They do not match your new outfit, and I can’t wait to see you in something more suited for your job training.”
I glance at the wetness on my panties as he whisks them down my legs. Can he see what he’s doing to me? With his forehead on my lower back, I don’t know if he can. Maybe his eyes are shut. Naked in front of him, I want him to just finish this and fucking take me. Maybe then we can just go back to the office and pretend like yesterday and today never happened.
“You’re wet, Vivian.” I hear him take a deep breath, and look down to see him holding my panties up to his face. “You smell so delicious.” Kodiche smells my underwear again. “I wonder if you taste that good, too?” He hums, and I glance again to see him licking at the wet spot I’d made. I wish he’d go straight for the source and stop this ache I have for him.
I can’t help but want him. He’s gorgeous. He is my boss, though. This morning I thought I’d just be doing crap copies and research on new clients to replace the one I screwed up for us. I never thought I’d be kneeling, begging, and then dressing like a prostitute to keep a job that just barely makes ends meet.
He taps my foot, and I look down to see that he’s holding out the new panties for me to step into. No sex right now, I guess. That’s . . . good? I stifle my disappointment as he pulls the lace up my thighs and onto my hips, tugging until the thin band slips into my slit. He continues tugging in rhythmic pulls, making the lace strip push on my clit and tease me. It’s like pulsing touches squeezing me.
I hear the moan before I realize I’m making it. I’ve never been teased like this. Pushing my hips back for more, I try to use my body to ask for what I can’t find words to do—won’t find words to do. Faster, he uses the panties to bring me just to the edge, and then laughs, his hands moving on to their next task, dressing me in the skirt and heels, and then reaching around to settle the lace bra cups over my breasts.
He does kiss me this time, on my shoulder, an open-mouthed promise of what he won’t give me. “You have to earn it, and you’ve not been a very good listener so far. Show me you can do better, and maybe I’ll let you have this.” His cock, even harder than the muscles in his forearms, pushes against my ass as he stands. I don’t know if I have room inside me for something that size. It’s massive like the rest of him. I want to try, though, as much as it mortifies me to think of him that way. Of myself wanting someone—anyone—that way.
