Page 18 of Filthy Boss

She turned to smile mischievously over her shoulder, then returned to her typing. The clacking of the keys stopped, waiting for me. I couldn't remember what the fuck I was talking about for the last four hours.

None of it seemed to matter now.

We worked until it was done, I had kept her nearly 8 hours.

“Is it finished?” I ask.

She nods, and adds “Sincerely Ty Dalton?”

“No. Absolutely not. Try: ‘The offer is good until 4pm Monday.’”

“Our time or their time?”

“Let them worry about that.”

“You never do the worrying, do you?”

“There are always more companies. I’m saving their jobs too, and their stock options for running the place into the ground. If they refuse to see the gift I’m giving them, then I don’t want to be in business with them.”

“Speaking of business.” She raised her open palm above her head.

“And of gifts. Or pay for work very well done and appreciated.”I placed the card in her hand, and she looked at it the way I once looked at the idea ofunlimited money.

Like it was a dream.

“Late model’ means last year’s, right?”

“Let’s define it as five years. I don’t want you to have another uncertain guideline, and worry.”

“I’m not worried.” She answers.

* * *

When I left her, after authorizing the concierge to confirm any purchases on my behalf, there was a slight ache- usually where my wallet goes in my suit, over the heart. But that was silly. I don’t give a shit about the money. American Express will cry mercy before I do.

It was the thought of letting her push me, letting her take what she wants, not merely what I’m willing to give her- the black card has no limits and that’s what she’ll start demanding in every area of my life as soon as she figures out she can make those demands.

That terrifies me almost as much as the fact I’m not putting up my customary fight. Another time, another girl, - any other time, any other girl- and I would not be sitting here waiting with my dick in my hand wondering what the hell she’s doing.

You can’t even hold your dick in your hand. That smartass voice in my head was even beginning to sound like her. Why is she different than all those before her? Her innocence? My weakness?

She’s a child. And I'm out of my mind. What the hell do I think I'm going to dowith her? I couldn't marry her, she's far too young, and I’m far too disagreeable. That soft, inviting pink mouth of hers rose in my mind.

I know exactly what I’d like to do with her.

She might not be sexually awakened, but all my male instincts told me there was passion waiting inside her to be kindled. That full, soft mouth invited exploration.

She wasn’t the Louisiana Territory. And I wasn’t Louis and Clark. I reminded myself. She should discover herself with someone her own age, have lots of bad sex then maybe start to figure it out later on. She didn’t need a tutor before the first lesson, that was for sure.

The sensible thing would be to stop this right now, before someonegets hurt. I'd hate to hurt her, and I'd hate myself if I did. Sooner or later shewillget hurt when it's all over.

My love affairs had never lasted long. There was no room for a full-time commitment in my life; I was too busy. I could make time for mysex life in my over-busy schedule, but women always wanted more than I could givethem. They wanted stability, marriage, children.Sixteen-hour work-days of good work on a job that meant something, then six months of vacation, where I could scuba dive in Norway or hike the Himalayas, or whatever the hell else I felt like doing, doesn’t fit into that. One of them has to give, and so far, it had never been the life I chose to live.

And besides, mostly what I wanted from women was sex. There were other benefits, women had more charms than just that, but finding a submissive who would also travel the world and work brutal hours or at the very least not try to take that away from me was impossible. My life was simply not compatible with all of those benefits and charms.

Only a fool would call that a tragedy. I chose every step, knowing what sacrifice it meant.

But there was sympathy for Milly. Even if she chose, she would have no idea what that choice entailed. No, I couldn't do it; an innocent like that needed someone of her owngeneration, a boy whose experience matched her own.

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