A lawyer stumbles upon an underworld of dominance and submission. Now under the domination of his beautiful secretary, he must win her heart to regain freedom. 134 pages
Glancing at his watch, he hit the button on the phone labeled Secretary. With only two hours left in the workday, he needed to get busy. He hoped she could stay late. Glancing at his watch, he hit the button on the phone labeled Secretary. With only two hours left in the workday, he needed to get busy. He hoped she could stay late.
Beep-beep. “Yes, sir?”
She sounded young. Not the grandmotherly type he had in Boston. “Please come see me.”
The door opened and he swiveled the chair. Before he could speak, however, his throat closed and his crotch tightened uncomfortably. Shit! Danger just walked into his office.
She had her pale blond hair swept up in some fancy knot, held in place with what looked like chopsticks. It appeared much too easy to let down quickly. Chocolate brown eyes caressed his face, or did he imagine it? God, did his pants bulge? He crossed a leg over his knee as a precaution.
Where did she get that skin? Flawless. Alabaster tinged in the right places with a hint of pink. Had to be make-up. Especially on that mouth. Geez, he couldn’t keep himself from picturing those plump, glistening lips wrapping around the tip of his dick. He started to throb, and swallowed. Hard.
He had to look away. But he couldn’t take his eyes from her. That long, ballerina neck arched for his kiss. Stop it! Firm, high, not-too-large breasts filled out her translucent blouse. Underneath, a lace camisole stretched, hinting at a shadow of pretty cleavage. Were her tits getting bigger by the second? Damn it, he was staring.
Dropping his gaze lower, he admired the form-fitting, cream colored pencil skirt that hugged her tiny waist and emphasized the gentle flare of her hips. Young, but not too young. Definitely a woman. Damn, she was sweet.
Long legs tapered down, shapely like a runner’s. Highlighted by cream colored, strappy high-heeled shoes, her narrow feet ended with French manicured toes he wanted more than anything to suck.
She cleared her throat, and he gave a guilty start. “Yes,” he said and mentally slapped himself when his voice cracked. Clearing his own throat, he added, “I have a list of supplies. Can you see to it or is there someone else I should talk to?”
Her dark gaze raked him and he froze, terrified she would see his tenting trousers. Then he realized the edge of his desk blocked her view. She held out a hand. “I’ll take care of it for you.”
Her voice sounded different in person. Less childlike. More husky, sexy. It swirled around him and he leaned forward slightly. His eyes found her outstretched hand, his mind sending it straight to his dick. He stared, picturing the slender fingers taking hold of his hard length. His mouth went dry. Get control, man!
“The list?” she reminded
“Yes, of course. The list.” He sounded like an idiot! Ripping the page off the pad, he handed it to her. She turned and headed for the door, her hips swaying seductively and her shoes making a seductive, slappy rhythm with her walk.
Suddenly, he remembered. “Excuse me.” He hadn’t even asked her name. I’m such a jerk. “What should I call you?”
“How about Hey you,” she suggested with a straight face.
It took him a moment to realize she joked, and gave him hope he had not made a complete fool of himself. He chuckled.
“No, you may call me Melony.”
“Thank you, Melony.” He tried to relax but she had him in tangles. “Call me Chip. Could you get me a copy of Monday’s hearing schedule, and the corresponding trial prep summary? I’d like to go over it this weekend.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Chip,” he called as she closed the door.
That glass wall was going to cause him no end of problems with her sitting on the other side.
