Page 72 of His Private Assistant

While I was thinking about the pros and cons of a spanking, Mr Thorn came back with two mugs of coffee, placing one on the table in front of me. I looked at it, and there was a heart drawn into the milk foam.

"You did that?" I asked, pointing to it, and he chuckled, sitting opposite me.

"Yes, princess. You sound surprised," he answered, still grinning.

"You don’t look like the type who has mastered latte art." I shrugged, admiring his work. It was perfect, like everything he ever did.

"It was a time, many years ago," he started, and I raised my head to look at him, just to see his deadly serious face. "When I stepped down from the pedestal, and lived amongst average humans. It was the worst time of my life."

I blinked a few times, not sure if he was making fun of me, but he didn’t pay attention to my flabbergasted expression, and continued.

"I ran away from home when I was seventeen, only to end up in Sydney, working in a restaurant as a busboy," he explained, taking a sip from his mug. "I was there for three months when my father finally found me."

"Took him long enough," I teased, watching as Mr Thorn’s face darkened. It happened every time he was talking or mentioned his dad. Sadness settled in my chest because of his problems with his family. I had my own, of course, but this was much more serious. I could still have lunch with my mother without wanting to chew her head off. I managed to live with her when I realised my parents' marriage wasn’t my problem to solve.

"He knew where I was. He only wanted me to experience the life of a poor homeless person," Mr Thorn stated with a grimace, and I frowned. "My ego didn’t allow me to call home and ask for help," he clarified, his expression softening when he looked at me. "I was actually making decent money by the time father showed up."

"You didn’t want to come back?" I asked, happy that I was learning something about him that I couldn’t find on the internet.

"I did." He smiled, playing with a spoon in his coffee. "I wasn’t born to spend life as a busboy. My family allowed me to become whoever I wanted to be." He tilted his head to the side, thinking, and I didn’t want to interrupt him when he was giving me all this information.

"Yet, I always think about it as a valuable lesson," he continued, smirking when he saw my curiosity. "I learned that the cleaning lady isn’t less than a manager, or that a janitor is the same person with feelings, fears, and dreams as a CEO. We all have our own important place in this world. It’s sad how many people in high positions ignore the fact that without good, satisfied employees, no company can be successful."

"You learned all of that while you were cleaning dishes?" I raised one of my eyebrows playfully, and he chuckled.

"I also learned how to use wooden spoons." He winked at me and stood up. I parted my lips as his last words rang in my ears.

"Do you like cooking?" I inquired, trying to mask my obvious interest in another way to use kitchen tools.

"No, princess," he replied, shaking his head, flashing me his signature evil grin. "I love to use them for colouring."

"Colouring?" I breathed, watching as his grin widened and he slowly walked around his table toward me.

"Yes, darling. One quality wooden spoon can colour your ass in every shade from light pink to deep purple," he explained, turning the chair so I was eye level with his flat abdomen. He cupped my chin with his big palm. His touch sent chills up my spine, and my core was set on fire by the very inappropriate thoughts that flooded my mind.

"I can’t wait to try one on you," he whispered in a hoarse voice, and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. He had such a natural ability to turn every conversation sexual that I had trouble realizing I was once again completely under his spell.

"What about tonight?" I suggested, giving him an innocent look. My mouth was dry like a desert.

"I have different adventures prepared for you tonight," he answered, stroking my lower lip with his thumb, and I gently bit it. "Don’t provoke me, princess." He sighed. His eyes were glued to my mouth. "I have a hard time holding myself back."

"Then don’t," I muttered, leaning closer, wanting to take his thumb inside to play with it. He liked watching me lick it like a lollipop.

"Don’t worry, I will have my way with you, princess," he promised, and my pussy clenched. I was so ready to accommodate him in my hole at that very moment, and I was slightly disappointed he didn’t want to take me on his desk.

To my surprise, he took me by my arms and stood me up. I pouted because he ended my little game with his thumb.

"I have work for you," he stated, moving his hand from my shoulder to my neck. "You’ll go home and meet with my housekeeper. She’ll tell you everything you need to know about keeping our apartment in order."

"Yes, sir." I nodded. Excitement travelled through my body because I could finally take care of him as well. I wanted to know his favourite meal, what kind of drink he preferred, or which movies he enjoyed. I craved to know everything.

"I’m curious about your cooking skills, too," he proceeded, turning my excitement into nervousness. "Think about three meals which you would like to prepare, and I will decide which one I want to taste."

I was so glad that he gave me this command. I was always horrible at making decisions when I had too many options. I felt overwhelmed, so I was ecstatic that he’d be in charge of many things. My only responsibility was to do everything that he wanted in the best way possible.

"I’ll be home at six; dinner will be served at seven, understood?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and I quickly said my usual response.

"Perfect." He leaned closer and kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes, enjoying the touch of his soft lips on my hot skin. "One more thing," he whispered into my ear, and I had to grab his arms for support because my knees turned to jello, like every time he spoke to me with that sexy, profound voice. "I want you to perfectly shave your pussy and asshole, and I’ll thoroughly check it when I come home."

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