Page 21 of My Wildest Obsession

“We need to check on the Miller-Smith paperwork and set up a meeting with that new client from yesterday. Wilson,” he says, and I nod, starting to take notes.

I guess that we’re going back to pretending like nothing happened.

I try not to be too disappointed. I know that I agreed to his terms last night, but I guess I was wishing that he would change his mind this morning.

“That’s all,” he says, and I head back to my desk.

I can feel his eyes on me as we go and I pull out my diary as I sit down at my desk. I flip to the last page and make a new scorecard. This time, I start to mark off every time that he stares at me, when he checks me out, when he looks at my lips, or looks at me like he wants to bend me over the nearest surface.

By one o’clock, the page is littered with tallies and I’m a horny ball of need.

“Clara!” He calls and I tug at the hem of my dress as I head into his office. “Close the door.”

I shut it and head over to my chair.

“Spread your legs,” he orders and my heart leaps into my throat.

He’s not even looking at me yet, but I can see the need in him. It’s etched into every line of his body. He’s rigid in his seat, his muscles bunched and tense under his dress shirt.

I don’t move and he looks up at me, his dark blue eyes filled with so much heat and longing.

“I thought that it was just a one time thing,” I say, and his lips flatten into a thin line.

“You’re not out of my system yet,” he admits, and my heart starts to race out of control. “Just one more night.”

He says it like he doesn’t believe that it will be just once more either and I’m almost giddy. He wants me. He needs me.

“One more time, Clara,” he says and there’s a desperate edge to his words.

“Alright,” I say quietly.

“Good. Now, pull up that too tight, too short, fucking dress and spread your thighs,” he orders.

I love when he bosses me around like this and I hurry to do as he demands. I hike my skirt up and then pull my panties down my legs and kick them aside. He leans forward in his chair, his hot gaze locked on that space at the juncture of my thighs.

“Look at you, already so wet for me,” he murmurs with a sexy smirk.

“This is for Dave, the mailroom guy,” I lie, and he snarls.

“He’s fired,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m joking.”

“He’s still fired. You shouldn’t be thinking about anyone but me when you’re soaked like this, those pretty little fingers playing with that pussy. My name is the only one on your lips.”

My cunt clenches at his words and the possessive tone to his words.

“Bossy,” I pant, and he stands, tugging at his tie.

He unbuttons his shirt and the belt of his pants as he makes his way over to me. My body heats and I spread my legs wider in invitation.

I expect him to fuck me in the chair or bend me over his desk, but instead, he grabs me and lifts me onto his desk. Papers and pens go flying onto the ground, but neither of us pay them any attention.

His mouth is on mine and his fingers are in my hair as he nudges my legs wider and steps between them. My fingers go to his pants and I unzip him, reaching in and pulling out his hard, heavy length. I tighten my grip and he hisses out a breath against my lips.

“Take your tits out. I want to see them while I’m fucking you,” he orders.

I pull my arms out of the sleeves of my dress and push the top of my dress down to my waist. My lacy bra is see through and he groans when he sees the hard peaks of my nipples against the silky fabric.

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