Page 286 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Knight

She gulps, her bag slips from her shoulder, and I catch it, then lower it to the ground next to her.

When I straighten, the color bleeds further from her features.

Her fear is a visceral scent that zips straight to my groin, and my cock grows harder than it’s been since I’d first seen her standing at my reception.

Fucking woman. Can’t stop myself from thinking of all the dirty things I want to do to her.

Not when I’m away from her, and not when she’s standing in front of me, all big eyes and blonde hair and pink lips parted in surprise. "Do you, Little Dove?"

"Do… Do I what?" she stutters.

"Don’t make me repeat my question."

She pales further; her eyes dilate. She glances at the door, then back at me.

"I’m not letting you leave without answering," I drawl.

She manages to get a hold of herself and draws herself up to her full height, which still means, she’s only at eye level with my chest. Not a surprise, considering how tall I am.

Most women are diminutive in front of me.

But I don’t want to drop to my knees and press my face into the apex of their legs and draw deeply of their pussy scent, the way I want to with her.

And if she doesn’t speak soon, nothing is going to stop me from doing it right now, either.

She must read some of the intensity on my face, for she takes a step back, only to freeze when her shoulder blades touch the windowpane. She gulps, "N-no."

"No, what?"

"No, I don’t know why you have this unrestricted view of the MI5 building from your office." Then, she flashes me a bright smile because, of course, that’s what Ms. Sunshine and Happiness does.

"Let me enlighten you." I twirl my finger in the air.

She blinks, then slowly follows my lead and turns around to face the window again.

"Good girl."

She shivers, then a small cry escapes her lips, for I’ve grabbed one wrist, then the other, and shackled them behind her with my fingers.

I kick her legs apart—good thing she’s wearing a dress with a wide skirt that allows for movement— then I fasten the fingers of my free hand around her neck and push her cheek into the glass.

A trembling grips her. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She hesitates.

"Say the word, and I’ll release you."

"Can I keep my job?" she says in a breathless tone.

"Are you accepting the job?"

"Isn’t that why I’m here?"

"Is that not why you’re here?"

She huffs. "Why do you have to answer every question with a question?"

"You know the answer to that."

She groans. "Okay, fine. I admit it. I came here to accept your job offer, though it was presumptuous of you to expect that when you saw me and"—her chest rises and falls—"and I don’t want you to stop," she mumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

She narrows her gaze and looks at me from the corner of her eyes. "You heard what I said."

"I need you to state it clearly."

"You’re a bastard."

"Not legally, but in every other way, yes."

"I hate you."

I yawn. "Still not hearing the words, Little Dove."

"Don’t call me that," she protests.

"I’ll call you what I want, when I want. Better get used to that."

"You’re not selling this—whatever it is—so you know."

"What I do know is that your breasts are aching, your nipples are hard enough to cut through the glass against which you’re plastered, and if I cup your pussy, your panties will be wet from the evidence of your arousal.

So, can I hear from your lips that you want me to continue manipulating your body?

Otherwise, I’m going to release you on the count of three, two, on—"

"Fine, I don’t want you to stop," she bursts out.

"And what is it you want me to do you?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

I lean in until my breath raises the hair on her head. "The more difficult things are to attain, the sweeter the reward."

The pulse at the base of her throat beats faster. "Is that a military saying?"

"Doesn’t matter. The only thing of relevance is that you put yourself in my hands and now, you will be rewarded." I push my knee forward so the ridge of my thigh chafes against the crotch of her sodden panties.

She gasps, "Oh, god."

I release my hold on her wrists, only to flatten one of her palms against the glass, then the other. "Hold on."

I grasp her hips, pull back my leg, then slide it forward again. She pushes her palms into the glass, then bends her knees so she’s seated firmly on my thigh. "Good girl. Now, let me take you to the edge."

I increase the pressure around her neck enough for her to pant.

Then, I begin to saw my leg back and forth between her thighs.

Each time I thrust forward, I increase the pressure on her clit.

Each time I pull back, I slow down to ensure she feels every tendon of my thigh.

She moans and whines and tries to wriggle away even as she pushes down her butt and tries to increase the surface area of contact between us.

She arches her back, her legs quiver, and I know she’s close. "Mr. Warren, I’m so close."

"Sir," I growl.

She hesitates.

I lick up her cheek. "Sir. You call me Sir from now on, understand?"

She shudders. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Warren, Sir."

The sound of her voice in that subservient voice sends my pulse rate spiking. The blood thuds behind my eyes, at my temples, in my balls. She arches her spine, her hips jerk and that’s when I know she’s close, so close. I press my cheek against hers. "You ready to come?"

She nods.

"Open your eyes. Watch how the world out there watches you hump my leg as you’re poised to fall apart in front of them."

She cracks open her eyelids and peers outside from under her heavy eyelids.

"Good girl."

She moans, and her entire body constricts with a tension that radiates out from deep inside of her.

She’s at the edge. That’s when I release her.

I step back, keeping my hand on her shoulder until I’m sure she’s capable of standing on her own.

Then, grabbing her bag and spinning around, I walk over to sit down at my desk.

I place her bag on the top and watch as she stays plastered against the window for a few more seconds.

Then, as understanding dawns that I’m no longer holding her up, her entire body grows rigid.

She turns and realizes that I’m seated at my desk.

"What…" she croaks. "What are you doing?"

"Attending to my work. Which, if you want to keep your job, is what you’d do, too." I lower my gaze to my phone and swipe down the screen. Wait for it. Wait for it. In 3-2-1…

She stomps over to my desk, then swipes the few pieces of paper on it to the floor.