Chapter 4-3

1054 Words
Sondra I take the elevator up to the top floor. Something makes me try Tacone’s room first—some sixth sense he’ll be there this time. I knock on the door, but hear nothing. So much for intuition. I key myself in and get to work. It’s empty, as it’s been the past week. A crisp fifty dollar bill lays on the table with a note and my name. At this rate, I’ll earn enough to move out of Corey’s by the end of the month. Which, considering what she told me about Dean’s interest in a threesome, is even more necessary. I leave the bill on the table until I finish. It’s for a job well-done and I’ll make damn sure I do my best before I take the money. I clean the bathrooms and bedroom and head into the study. I end up in the office last. Because Marissa was paranoid about it, I stay way the hell away from the desk, dusting the book cases, emptying the trash and vacuuming. Noticing a spider web in the upper corner of the window, I grab the broom to swipe it. And that’s when the other end of the broom knocks over something on Tacone’s desk. I jump and whirl to see coffee spilling across the papers. Oh s**t. Crap, crap, crap. I run for my rags, and come back, mopping things up as fast as I can. But it’s too late. Half the papers on his desk are soaking wet, stained brown. What should I do? I separate them and lay them out individually to dry, trying not to look at the contents. I’m not supposed to be seeing this stuff. “What the f**k?” A little shriek leaves my lips and I knock the now-empty coffee mug over again. Tacone looms in the doorway, his hulk more menacing than ever. His eyes glitter black, a muscle jumps in his jaw. “Oh God…” I right the coffee mug again. “I’m so sorry. I knocked over your coffee and got it all over everything. I know we’re not supposed to touch the desks—I definitely didn’t plan to, but…” Tacone walks closer, suspicious eyes sweeping the desk, the floor, my body, the room. He still has bags under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. “I didn’t look at anything—I swear.” In a flash, he wraps his large hand around my throat from behind, loosely cupping the front of my neck. He pulls me back, so my a*s bumps into his legs. “What did you see?” His voice is low and dangerous, but the hand on my neck is more a caress than a threat, especially when his thumb strokes lightly along my pulse. I close my eyes. “Nothing,” I croak. “I saw nothing. I swear.” “Nosiness won’t be forgiven, Sondra.” His voice is pure s*x. Total seduction. His breath feathers hot across my ear. The hard muscles of his body press against my softer form. “Are you telling me the truth?” “Yes.” It comes out as a half-moan, half-gasp, but not because I’m scared. I’m totally turned on. Tacone’s other arm snakes around my waist. His hand splays flat across my belly, inching down. “Your only sin is clumsiness?” “Yes, sir.” He likes that I call him sir. I don’t know how I can tell, but I know he does. Zingers of electricity run through my body, lighting it up from the inside, and I swear I sense the answering charge from his cells. My panties are beyond damp—they’re soaked. “I guess that only calls for a little correction.” He nips my ear. My heart thuds, probably so hard he can feel it through my back. “Put your hands on the desk.” My belly flips. Oh my lord, is he going to s***k me? A shiver runs through me. He’s excited too. His c**k presses into my back, and his breath rasps in and out as fast as mine. He releases me and steps back and I obey, bending to rest my palms flat on the desk in front of me. I hear a deep rumble of approval behind me. His two hands grip my hips and he pulls, angling my butt even further back. He slowly slides his hands down the fabric of my skirt, caressing my curves before he releases me. “I’ll let you keep your uniform on.” His voice is impossibly deep. “Only because this time, if I take that zipper down again, I won’t hold back.” The floor tilts and a wave of dizziness floods through me and then I slam back to reality when his palm crashes down on my a*s. Smack. I gasp and list to the side automatically, but then I put myself back in position. I hold still for his punishment. “Mm. I knew this a*s would be spankable,” he rumbles. He slaps the other cheek. Hard. I have to close my lips against the squeak that rises in my throat. Another slap, and another. It’s a little too much, but just when I’m about to protest, he starts rubbing my offended cheeks, massaging away the sting. I pant, my p***y clenching, heart tapping out a rapid beat. Tacone strokes down my hip until he reaches bare thigh. He starts to slide up my leg, under the uniform skirt, then stops, and pulls my dress hem lower. “You’d better get back to work before I take this way too far.” Uhhh…what? I’m way too horned up to just pull my dress down and get back to work. In fact, the very idea of it pisses me off. If a female could get blue balls, I’d have them. My clit throbs, my n*****s are hard, sensitive points. I lift my torso and whirl around to confront him. Before I can speak, he catches me at the nape and holds me captive for a kiss. Hard lips twist over mine with a bruising intensity. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, nips it. His tongue sweeps between my lips. I mewl and kiss him back, grateful for the desk supporting my a*s, or I would fall down. “Bellissima,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.” No need, my wanton inner s**t moans. But with a pained look, he releases me and steps back. “Go on.” He turns me and smacks my a*s in dismissal. A storm of emotions flood through me—humiliation mingling with l**t and turning into white hot anger. Okay. He wants to toy with me? Fine. Two can play at this game.
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