Playing with fire (2)

Playing with fire (2)
"Come here," Rhys demands.

I would like to be more stubborn, but he could very well send me back to my cubicle. If I have to go through one more minute with this gnawing desire inside me, I’ll combust. I walk over to him, staying at arm’s length. His glare makes me move closer.

Rhys grabs me by the waist. Just as I think he’s going to have me sit on his lap, he pushes me across the desk instead, tugging my skirt upward. My body tenses and I try to get up. His large palm presses down my back, his other hand landing on my ass. I bite my lip to stifle a yelp.

"The things I’m going to do to this hot ass," he growls, hand running down my back. "You’re going to need a safe word."

"Huh?" I ask foolishly.

"Safe word," Rhys demands.

We’re really doing this. I wouldn’t be averse to anything Rhys does to me sexually, but before I can blurt that out, I remember he also wants to ascertain he isn’t crossing any lines. "Pineapples."

It’s so random he asks, "Are you sure you will remember that?"

I will never need to say it.

As soon as I nod, another spank lands.

I squirm against the desk as Rhys spanks me over and over, saying nothing while taking out his frustration on my ass. Every time his palm lands, my body jolts, sending electricity through my core. My boobs are pressed against the cold, hard surface of his desk, craving the warmth of his touch. When I feel him trying to nudge my panties aside, I shuffle to stop him. If he knew how turned on I am from what he thinks is punishment, I’d die in embarrassment.

It’s as though Rhys is reading my mind. He runs his palm along my ass. "Do you think I don’t know how much you like it when I spank this sexy ass?"

My cheeks are so hot, I’m glad he’s not looking at my face.

"I’m sorry, Boss. I won’t do it again," I lie. If it gets him this riled up, I’m absolutely doing it again.

That earns me another spank. My ass stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to the heat in my panties. Just when I think he’s stopped, Rhys hooks a finger into the band of my panties and yanks it down. His fingers sink into my dripping pussy as he claps a hand over my mouth to muffle a moan. My legs are trembling, an orgasm threatening to erupt out of me. I didn’t know it was possible to come from just being spanked.

Right before I explode, Rhys pulls his fingers out of me, and I hear what sounds like a drawer opening.

Is he grabbing a condom?

Yes, please. Yes.

I keep my eyes forward even though all I want is to see him, but I’m afraid the slightest move might make him change his mind. I must look like a dripping, desperate mess, but that’s the least of my worries.

When the drawer closes, my insides clench in anticipation, but the ice-cold feeling that invades my pussy cannot possibly be his cock. I turn to check what he’s doing.

"Eyes forward," he orders.

My body instantly obeys him, even though I’m curious about what he’s pushing inside me. It feels smooth and egg-shaped.

He holds my waist and steadies me. Whatever is inside me moves, nearly triggering an orgasm. I look up at Rhys pleadingly. He’s staring at my lips like he’s about to kiss me, but stops himself.

"Go back to your desk," Rhys commands.

"Right now?"

He sits down, grabbing a file and opening it. "Did I stutter, Miss Davidson?"

"No." I adjust my skirt and linger in his line of sight, part of me thinking he will do something about the tension I know he's feeling, too.

Instead, the man glances up at me with a knowing smirk. "That’s what you get for taunting me. I sent you a contract and I want it printed immediately."

____

Resuming my work as though I don’t have a sex toy inside me is torturous. Every time I wiggle to adjust it, it moves some more, plunging me to the brink of insanity.

I’m tempted to reach between my legs and relieve some of the tension, but what if someone walked in on me? Besides, if this is punishment for sending that picture, I don’t know what would become of me if he found out I did anything without his permission.

Walking is agonizing, and my boss is determined to make me explode. He sends me on more errands outside the building, enjoying the look on my face every time I return to his office.

I can’t wait for the day to end. When it ultimately does, Rhys insists I stay for overtime. I groan. Does he know how difficult it’s been to focus on anything other than what’s happening in my panties?

At the risk of getting punished, I decide to go to the bathroom and take it out. As soon as I stand, Rhys’s door opens.

Is my work day finally over?

"Going somewhere?" Rhys asks. He leans against the door, awaiting my answer.

My brain is so jumbled that all I can think about is how hot he looks. Rhys has long ditched his coat and tie, leaving only a crisp white shirt on. His hair is in disarray, a stark contrast to the tidy style he had on in the morning, but my body seems to prefer this side of him.

The unruly locks of hair dangling close to his eyes make him look dangerous—but I’m realizing I like flirting with danger. What I wouldn’t give to take off his clothes and run my hands all over his skin. His mouth looks particularly inviting. I lick my lips, balling my fists to contain the urge to jump him.

Before I can dash for the bathroom, Rhys reaches me in a few steps and grabs my waist from behind. The sensation of his hot mouth against my ear makes my stomach flutter. His hand explores my thighs and sneaks under my skirt as he asks, "Where do you think you’re going?"