Get on your knees

Get on your knees
KIRA

I glare at Rhys, holding back everything I would like to tell him. I may be vexed with my boss, but I still need my job and his protection—wait. That changed when I decided to run away.

Placing the tray on the table, I snatch the book from him and throw it aside, my hands flying to my hips. "You have no right to rummage through my personal belongings. There’s such a thing as privacy!"

Rhys gets off the couch, looming over me as he examines me from head to toe. "Privacy? If I had reason to believe you were up to something suspicious, I would scrutinize your panties if I thought they had answers."

My eyes widen. I must have lost some brain cells, because the image of him searching the panties I’m wearing for ‘proof’ should have irked me, yet it turns me on. It’s practically as if he knows what I think of him.

Of course he does, I think. He read my diary.

"But," Rhys continues, "I didn’t read your little diary."

I frown. Then what was he talking about? I don’t buy his blatant lie. "You just called me imaginative. It’s a little difficult to know that about me if you haven’t read any of my pieces. Where did you find it, anyway?" My purse is untouched, and I suddenly can’t remember keeping the offending book after work. I was so eager to rush out of the office that I forgot it.

"On your desk," Rhys confirms. "I see you scribbling in that book all the time, that’s all. But if you want me to read whatever is in there, I will be glad to."

"No!" I quickly grab the diary from the floor before he can get to it. I don’t know if I believe him, however. If he read it, what reason does he have to lie to me?

Rhys doesn’t give me the chance to sneak away. "Tell me what you write in there."

I would prefer not to, or so I thought. But the more Rhys looks at me, the more I’m curious about his reaction. Would he be disgusted? Fire me?

An idea flashes in my mind. I do want to leave without incurring his wrath. If he sends me away, my escape will be none of his business.

Even after I have made up my mind, my stomach is a bundle of nerves as I say, "I write about you."

Rhys raises a brow. "So you really are a writer. Is this a boring biography or data for a blog no one will ever read?"

Is he kidding me? There’s nothing boring about his life. Even if all he does is work and bark orders, a blog about him would attract millions of readers.

Hm….maybe I should do that sometime. If it’s a paid blog, I could make some good bucks out of it.

Rhys taps my forehead. "You’re just thinking about it right now, aren’t you?"

I don’t deny anything; it would be useless when he already knows enough on his own. Instead of making a fool out of myself trying to form a coherent statement about the kind of crap I’ve been writing, I hand over the diary to him.

Rhys is surprised, and so am I. I can’t believe I’m letting him read it.

He opens it immediately, like he’s been dying to find out what is in there and is afraid I will change my mind. I need my freedom, so I hold back my embarrassment while wishing the ground could swallow me whole.

Rhys flips through the first few pages that I purposefully left blank, then finds the first entry. I know what he is reading because I have recited it over a million times in my head.

It’s my first day of work at a new company. My boss? A stunning jerk with lips so beautiful that they make up for his assholery. What I wouldn’t give to suck on those lips and other parts of him. I bet his dick is big. It would explain why he has a stick up his ass.

Mr. Hot Jerk calls me to his office every other minute, to give me instructions he could have easily relayed over the intercom. I’m starting to wonder if he has the hots for me, too, when he calls me over again.

This time, I don’t give him my practiced gentle smile and ask what I can do for him. I inquire, "What is my role as your assistant, sir?"

He looks up from his computer, his gorgeous face marred with a frown. "You got hired for a position you know nothing about?"

"I know enough about this one, or so I thought." I do the boldest thing I have ever tried. "I’m open to more positions, Master."

When he catches my hint, my boss’s eyes shift. The anger is completely gone, replaced with something more dangerous; consuming, unadulterated lust. "Come here."

I go over, sitting on the edge of his knee, even though he didn’t ask for that. "Here?"

He makes me straddle him instead, pulling me so close that our chests are almost touching. "Here."

I don’t say a word, and neither does he. Our tongues are too busy fighting for dominance for us to talk. 

When the kiss breaks, he wipes smudged lipstick from the corners of my mouth. "I have a position in mind for you to try out right now," he says. His hands weave into my hair and he grabs a fistful. "Get on your knees and suck my cock."

When the page is done, Rhys looks up from the diary, his smile unreadable. "I suppose I’m the boss here. The hot jerk with a big dick, and a stick up his ass, was it?"

Oh God.

I know this is what I wanted, but can we please rewind time to seconds before I gave Rhys the diary? Actually, can we erase today from history? Thank you.

My little prayer doesn’t work. When I open my eyes, Rhys is grinning at me.

I wince. The hardest step is over. "I understand Phoenix Industries wants nothing to do with employees who think about their bosses in such an inappropriate manner. I will hand over my resignation and never show up before you again."

I don’t dare to look at Rhys as I await his verdict. When I’m starting to think he got his attention snagged by something else, I hear a short laugh. "Is that what you want?"

I look up. Unable to answer him.

"I could make you keep working for me, watching your face flush in shame every day," he says. His voice lowers. "But what’s the fun in that?"

The doorbell rings, startling me.

"What a shame, he is here," Rhys announces.

I’m still trying to figure out what he meant a moment ago.

There’s a small monitor to see who is at the door. When I peek at it, my heart nearly stops. Pajama Guy is Shane?

I look to Rhys, hoping he will rescue me, but give up. Birds of a feather flock together, and these two are close. I bet Rhys is an even bigger psychopath than his friend, seeing as he is the boss.

I open the door, and Pajama Guy opens his arms wide. "Kira! It’s nice to finally meet you. Rhys has told me absolutely nothing about you."

I fight the urge to glare at my boss. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to invite this man to my place?

Oh, right. He said Shane wanted to talk. I bet Rhys doesn’t trust the lunatic to not kill me at the slightest provocation.

I ignore Shane’s hug invitation, making him smile. "Can I get a glass of wine, then? We have a lot to talk about. Grab any from the top shelf in the cellar."

"Cellar?"

Shane raises a brow at me. "Don’t tell me you didn’t know there’s a cellar behind the kitchen. I put in there some of my favorite wines in case you wanted to try them out."

The shock of finding out I have a cellar aside, Shane is the one who stocked it? Don’t tell me he also did my grocery shopping.

It makes sense the more I think about it. Rhys doesn’t seem that thoughtful. Shane doesn’t, either, but he knows too much to not have had anything to do with it.

I bring the wine without asking and pour some for Rhys, too, who changed his mind about taking tea.

I sit as far from the men as possible, terror starting to sink in. What are they up to?

Shane speaks up after a few sips of wine. "Kira Davidson, are you going to tell me what your relationship with Kristof Volkov is?"