Page 51 of Bigfoot Boss
The weekend will probably haunt me forever. I had a chance to explain everything to Bailey; that we are mates, fated to be together forever. Instead I was a total chicken. I didn’t tell her anything because I was scared of her reaction and now it’s too late. I’m certain I’m about to loose her. She’ll take the money that she’s earned and all I’ll be left with is my memories.
When Bailey still shows up to the office on Monday. Hope flutters in my chest. She hasn’t given up on me yet. She hasn’t given up on us yet.
I need her so badly. Spending the weekend together only furthered my cravings for her. I’m haunted by the memories of her body, her touch, her smell.
I try to distract myself with work. Our most recent project may have been completed, but there are a million other things to do, fires to extinguish, clients to woo.
But distractions don’t help. I’m hyper-aware of her every moment in the office. The way her hips sway as she walks through the hall. The way she brushes her hair behind her ear. The way she laughs when someone makes a joke. The carefulway she leans across me when she brings me lunch, letting her breast graze my arm. Her scent is a constant invasion in my space, making my dick stiff with a single whiff. She smells like the forest. She smells like home.
After everything that’s happened between us I don’t want my little beast to feel cornered. I’ve made my intentions clear. She knows where to find me. So I bide my time, I stalk her silently, like a proper predator. She’s already caught, even if she doesn’t know it yet. I just have to wait for her to come to me. Even if all I want to do is throw her across my desk and lick her pussy until she passes out. Tie her to my bed and make her come until she’s begging me to stop, and I can sink my knot in and squeeze one more orgasm from her. The way I plan to ruin her.
Once she gives me explicit consent to do so.
And then on Friday. It happens. She wears the skirt.
At first I think it doesn’t mean anything. When I walk past her desk I get a glimpse of purple pleather. She barely acknowledges my morning greeting, her face glued to her computer screen.
A couple hours later I walk into her alcove to ask a question and she spins her whole chair to face me. She slowly uncrosses her legs and recrosses them in the other direction. The movement pushes the purple fabric up her thigh, flashing another glorious few inches of skin, hinting at the pleasures hidden in the darkness between those legs.
“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Kwatch?” She adds a curious lilt in her voice.
“I need to see you in my office, Ms. Thorn.” It isn’t what I’d planned to say, but seeing her teasing body language, I almost feel like I’ve lost control of my functions. This woman is mine, if she thinks that she can tease me like this, then I am going to take her.
“Okay, sir, I’m just finishing up these reports and then I can?—”
“Now. Ms. Thorn.” I interrupt with a stern tone. I push the door to my office wide open and gesture for her to walk past me.
“Of course, sir.” She gives me a wry smile, that tells me this temptress knows exactly what she’s doing.
The way she saunters past, the mesmerizing sway of her hips is far more exaggerated than necessary.
Boy, do I have plans for her.
29
HAND THEM OVER
Bailey
Sacha follows me into the office, his large presence a delicious promise. He closes the door with a loud click. In the heavy silence that follows he removes his suit jacket, placing it on a wooden hanger and hooking it neatly on the rack behind his door. His large fingers find the shirt button at his wrist. I watch enrapt as he methodically folds the fabric of his sleeve, pulling it up to reveal thick, hairy forearms.
I swallow so hard I’m sure he can hear it. “Did you need me for something, sir?”
“Sit,” he commands, pointing to a chair in the middle of his office. A small shiver chases up my spine but I follow his orders.
Then he starts on his second sleeve. His fingers folding a neat crease in the starched fabric before he rolls it neatly above his elbow.
Fuck. I am a goner. I thought this male had a hold on me before, but now that we’ve had sex I think I would do anything he asked of me.
“Ms. Thorn. Do you remember what I said about that skirt?” He asks as he stalks around the room, watching me as he closesthe blinds that cover each of the tall windows overlooking the street.
“This skirt?” I ask coyly, my heart hammers in my chest. He noticed. I knew he would, but I’m still thrilled. It’s been days since he even touched me. He watches me like a stalker every day at work but hasn’t made a move. I spent a few lonely, frustrating nights trying to figure out the perfect thing to text him, but every message I composed didn’t say enough, or explained too much. I don’t want to actually deal with my feelings, I just want him to take me.
So, I decided to wear the skirt.
“Do you remember what I promised would happen if you wore it to work again? Wore it in front of me?” He pulls the final shade closed, sealing us off from the rest of the world.
Now it’s only the two of us.
