Filthy Boss Read Online Free
Author: Penny Wylder
calls from the office.
There's a little butterfly in my stomach as I head inside. "Sure."
He's in the process of hanging up his suit jacket. "Before I take care of these messages, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Of course."
He sits at his desk and pulls his phone out, typing. "The night we first met, you told me you expected our relationship to be entirely professional."
My stomach drops down to the ground. Considering that we're on the fiftieth floor, it's a long drop. "That's right, I did. I appreciate that you've respected that."
He smiles at me, a genuinely delighted smile. "So imagine my surprise when I found out that you've been writing graphic sexual fantasies about two characters, who are shockingly similar to you and I."
"No." All the blood drains from my face. This isn't happening. It's so, so much worse than when I imagined it this morning.
"I just wanted to know where that lies in the line of keeping our relationship professional?"
He's still smiling. Is he going to fire me? How can I salvage this? THINK . But my brain is all mushy, and the only thing that I can force out of my mouth is, "I can explain..."
"You don't have to explain anything. There's nothing wrong with this. I love this." He gestures to his phone, "But I think you may have lied about wanting to be professional."
"I—" Nothing else comes out. There aren't any words.
"I can feel the bite of a button into my wrist as he ties my hands with his shirt, but I can't care. The view of his chest makes it all worth it."
Oh my god he's reading it. All the blood rushes back from where it went and goes straight into my face. I can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from my face. He's still smiling. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, even if you haven't seen me without a shirt yet. That's one of my favorite bits. I have others..."
"No, please." I take a step forward. "Stop."
"You wrote this. So did you lie about what you wanted?" I don't say anything. Instead I'm trying to figure out how to get the phone out of his hand. He starts again, "He moves inside me faster and faster, and I want to touch him even though he told me no. Instead I'm trapped by his will and his word—"
"Stop." I say, moving around the desk. He has to stop. It's not meant to be read out loud.
He moves too, away from me, reading all the time. "The thought makes me shudder with pleasure."
"Mr. Saxon. Charles."
We're on opposite sides of the desk again. "To get me to stop you have to admit that you lied."
Rage flows through me, giving me focus through the fog. "I didn't lie. I did—do want our relationship to be professional. My fantasies are none of your business."
He walks over to his couch and sits on the arm. "They are my business when they are about me. Now stop trying to take my phone, I'm quite enjoying this." The grin is back. "His mouth covers my nipple and I gasp the sweet sensation of teeth and tongue, teeth and tongue, over and over again."
To hell with this. If he's not going to stop reading, I'll make him stop. Then we can talk about professionalism. He locks eyes with me as I come around the desk, and he's not smiling any more. "Alyssa," He says, "Stop. I'm going to finish this." I take another step towards him, ignoring the fact that him giving me a command is exactly what all these fantasies are about. "Don't. Move." His face is deadly serious. He turns back to his phone. "'I'm so close.' I whisper, and I feel him slow down, making it last until—"
Enough is enough. I close the distance and grab at the phone, but Charles gets there first. He grabs my wrist, and now we're eye to eye. And then before I can fully grasp what's happening, he pulls me across his lap, and he spanks me.
Fiery pain bursts from the spot, and I freeze. He spanks me again, and again, his words punctuating the pain. "I. Told. You. Not. To. Move."
The pain subsides and I find that my breath is coming in gasps, and I can feet the heat between my legs. His
There's a little butterfly in my stomach as I head inside. "Sure."
He's in the process of hanging up his suit jacket. "Before I take care of these messages, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Of course."
He sits at his desk and pulls his phone out, typing. "The night we first met, you told me you expected our relationship to be entirely professional."
My stomach drops down to the ground. Considering that we're on the fiftieth floor, it's a long drop. "That's right, I did. I appreciate that you've respected that."
He smiles at me, a genuinely delighted smile. "So imagine my surprise when I found out that you've been writing graphic sexual fantasies about two characters, who are shockingly similar to you and I."
"No." All the blood drains from my face. This isn't happening. It's so, so much worse than when I imagined it this morning.
"I just wanted to know where that lies in the line of keeping our relationship professional?"
He's still smiling. Is he going to fire me? How can I salvage this? THINK . But my brain is all mushy, and the only thing that I can force out of my mouth is, "I can explain..."
"You don't have to explain anything. There's nothing wrong with this. I love this." He gestures to his phone, "But I think you may have lied about wanting to be professional."
"I—" Nothing else comes out. There aren't any words.
"I can feel the bite of a button into my wrist as he ties my hands with his shirt, but I can't care. The view of his chest makes it all worth it."
Oh my god he's reading it. All the blood rushes back from where it went and goes straight into my face. I can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from my face. He's still smiling. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, even if you haven't seen me without a shirt yet. That's one of my favorite bits. I have others..."
"No, please." I take a step forward. "Stop."
"You wrote this. So did you lie about what you wanted?" I don't say anything. Instead I'm trying to figure out how to get the phone out of his hand. He starts again, "He moves inside me faster and faster, and I want to touch him even though he told me no. Instead I'm trapped by his will and his word—"
"Stop." I say, moving around the desk. He has to stop. It's not meant to be read out loud.
He moves too, away from me, reading all the time. "The thought makes me shudder with pleasure."
"Mr. Saxon. Charles."
We're on opposite sides of the desk again. "To get me to stop you have to admit that you lied."
Rage flows through me, giving me focus through the fog. "I didn't lie. I did—do want our relationship to be professional. My fantasies are none of your business."
He walks over to his couch and sits on the arm. "They are my business when they are about me. Now stop trying to take my phone, I'm quite enjoying this." The grin is back. "His mouth covers my nipple and I gasp the sweet sensation of teeth and tongue, teeth and tongue, over and over again."
To hell with this. If he's not going to stop reading, I'll make him stop. Then we can talk about professionalism. He locks eyes with me as I come around the desk, and he's not smiling any more. "Alyssa," He says, "Stop. I'm going to finish this." I take another step towards him, ignoring the fact that him giving me a command is exactly what all these fantasies are about. "Don't. Move." His face is deadly serious. He turns back to his phone. "'I'm so close.' I whisper, and I feel him slow down, making it last until—"
Enough is enough. I close the distance and grab at the phone, but Charles gets there first. He grabs my wrist, and now we're eye to eye. And then before I can fully grasp what's happening, he pulls me across his lap, and he spanks me.
Fiery pain bursts from the spot, and I freeze. He spanks me again, and again, his words punctuating the pain. "I. Told. You. Not. To. Move."
The pain subsides and I find that my breath is coming in gasps, and I can feet the heat between my legs. His
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