Page 103 of Hate to Love You
I turn, deliberately blocking Abby from their view, not wanting their nosey prying eyes to taint this moment for me.
“Go the fuck home!” I snap at them both, before they even have a chance to step off the elevator. “If you’re not gone in five seconds, you’re both fucking fired!”
“Erm…yes, Boss!” Alison yelps, her eyes wide as she frantically hits the elevator button repeatedly, causing the doors to close.
As I turn back around, I pull out my phone, opening my text thread with Cal. Locking eyes with Abby I press the voice record button.
“I’m to be undisturbed for the rest of the afternoon,” I say into the phone. “If anyone sets foot on this floor, I will have their head.”
Abby, who is still bent over the edge of my desk with her head resting on her hand, inhales deeply.
Yet she doesn’t move.
Why? Because deep down, despite pretending otherwise, she knows as well as I do, that she actually wants this. She wants me.
And she will have me.
…But first, I’m going to spank the fuck out of her.
My eye catches one of the large decorative vases in the window, filled with fake reeds of pussywillow.
How convenient. And slightly ironic.
But I want my hands on her first.
I walk toward her, unbuttoning the cuffs on my dress shirt and slowly rolling them, without breaking eye contact with her. Reaching forward I cup her gentle face in my hand, running my fingers along the base of her jaw.
“You,” I growl softly, “have been a very, very, bad girl, Miss Wayne.”
“I…I know,” she whispers back, swallowing hard.
“So, you understand that you must be punished,” I say gently, tipping her chin up to face me. “And you know how I’m going to do it, don’t you?”
She nods, but I shake my head.
“No, no,” I say firmly, pulling her bottom lip down with my thumb. “I want to hear you say it.”
Her pupils dilate, and I can hear her rapid breathing.
“You’re…going to…spank me.”
“Yes,” I growl. “Yes, I fucking am.”
“Is it,” She asks, biting her lip. “Going to hurt?”
I grin.
Slowly I walk around to the edge of the desk on which she leans and take a seat, running the tips of my fingers along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp.
“Yes,” I snarl, grabbing the edge of her impossibly short leather skirt and pulling it up.
The moment I see her black thong riding up the slit of her perky thick ass, and the matching black lace garter belt holding up her stockings, my chest heaves.
Fucking hell she’s hot.
Abby is like every vice, every addiction, and every Achilles heel rolled into one, and I want her more than all of them combined. Desperately.
I hook my finger inside her little G-String and pull it down, hearing her moan as I trail it down her leg.