Authors: Myra Song
Locke caught me off guard. One minute I’m taking in his home (he’s quite a collector) and the next minute I’m shoved against a doorframe and he’s grinding on me. Before I can protest, he’s whispering a warning in my ear.
There’s a price to pay for breaking in, Miss Martin
The sexual menace in Locke’s voice is like kerosine to my body, setting it on fire. My pussy flooded and my nipples tightened and now I’m in his office, watching him shut the door. Locking me in with him.
Jameson Locke is like a panther. He’s dressed down today, jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his muscles in the most delicious way. There’s something endearing about a billionaire in a t-shirt. Of course, knowing him, that piece of jersey still costs more than half my rent.
Padding on bare feet, he’s stalking me. I want to be angry, to demand my way out. Instead, I find myself backing away until I hit his loaded bookshelf. Leather-bound volumes press into my back and there’s nowhere to go.
Wiping my palms on my jeans, I shake my head to clear it.
“I can’t sleep with clients,” I say, my voice strained. “Bad business.”
He takes a few steps closer to me and my body is flushing, heated. “Have you accepted money from me yet? Signed a contract?” His blue eyes are flashing with predatory lust.
“No,” I whisper.
“And did you break into my property this morning? Illegal trespassing?”
Yes and no. I assumed I was being watched, but I wanted to see what systems he had in place and--
Locke is right in front of me, his body pressing close. The warmth of him, the sheer sexual energy he exudes, is overwhelming. He’s not wearing cologne today, just smells fresh. Like man.
He braces and arm on either side of my head. “Either you submit to a punishment, or I call your Chief and send him the video of you jumping my fence.”
Fuck. That would be weeks of paperwork, maybe a night in a cell… and no paycheck.
Anger boils in me. He’s blackmailing me now to have sex with him. I feel a bit set up, and although I walked straight into it, it doesn’t irk me any less. The salt in the wound is that at this moment? My body is revving. I
him to punish me, because if I’m gauging the look in his eyes and his none-too-subtle body language, punishment is going to feel
“You’re an asshole. Do you always have to trick girls into fucking you?”
He gives me this sideways grin, dark hair flopping in his face, and leans closer. “I didn’t have to trick you yesterday,” he rasps. His hand palms my breast and squeezes hard. Pleasure jolts straight to my core and I can’t help it-- I moan.
“I take it you’re choosing the punishment,” he goads.
“I don’t think I have a lot of choice,” I whimper as my leg hooks his hip, bringing the rod in his pants to grind against my sensitive pussy.
His mouth crushes onto mine, tongue seeking. I open for him, instinctively, melting against him. Locke’s grip on my breast is firm and he kneads it, manipulating my flesh until I’m grinding helplessly against him, panting into his dominating kiss.
My fingers grip the edge of his shirt and I try to pull it up but he stops me. Locke’s hands circle my wrists, pulling them overhead. I feel stretched, exposed. His hips keep me pinned to the bookshelf.
“Naughty girl. Punishment first, then pleasure.”
I’m so hungry for his cock. This delay and teasing is overwhelmingly frustrating. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means I’m going to spank your ass until you cream all over yourself,” he growls, “and then I’m going to fuck your pussy until you come again.”
My flesh is blazing. Everywhere he touches me singes with heat and need. But being spanked by this asshole? Like I’m some kind of naughty schoolgirl?
Except… fuck, it’s so hot the way he says it. There is a dark promise in his words and I believe for a moment he really can make me come by spanking me.
“Fine,” I spit, trying to remain defiant.
Locke smiles, seeing through the guise. He releases my wrists. “Pull those tight jeans down. Panties, too. And then bend over my desk.”
“How about I just turn around here, you can get your kicks by hitting a woman, and then we can jump right into the sex?”
His gaze flashes and I feel a ripple of fear. So far, challenging Locke has been more like a game. Something about this new look, though, scares me a little. It turns me on
. “Bend over the desk now, P.I., or I’ll just give the punishment and deny the pleasure.”
Shame is crawling through my sensitive skin. I don’t understand why. He’s threatening me. Bullying me! Yet somehow, I am the one embarrassed? Worried about displeasing him?
What’s happening to me?
He peels himself off me and waits as I shuffle to his desk. My hands are shaking as I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down, my panties going with them.
Locke steps close behind me. Gently, he removes my trench coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. I feel ridiculous, standing with my pants around my ankles, my ass hanging out, my t-shirt still on.
“Bend over the desk, please.” The ‘please’ is there as a formality. Locke’s tone allows for no disagreement. Whatever we’re doing, there’s a crackle in the air, and suddenly I’m afraid it’s going to change. The game is going to change. He warned me that he plays for high stakes. I thought I was being clever when I agreed.
Now, as I lean over his desk, exposing my ass and sopping slit to him (two times in two days I’ve let this man, a stranger, bend me over desks), I feel like I charged in without learning all the rules.
“You look so fucking sexy,” I hear him say in his low, husky voice behind me. “What is it about you that makes me want to pound my cock into that pussy the minute I see you?”
His words zing through me, lighting me up. It makes me feel fluttery to know hear that the undeniable attraction I feel, so heady it makes me lose common sense in a heartbeat, might be mutual.
There isn’t time to dwell on this revelation, though, because he’s right behind me. Just his presence makes it hard to think.
Locke give no warning. One minute, my ass cheeks are cool, hanging in the open in his office, and then--
Oh God, they’re stinging, his hand leaving a hot-cold sensation.
“What the hell?”
me. “You’ve got a lot to learn about how this works.”
Something in my core jumps at this, but my mouth can’t stay shut. “Learn about what? You’re into kinky shit. You like to choke and hit women. I think I can follow.”
Locke is on me, his powerful hands gripping my wrists, his chest pressed into my back. The hard ridge of his cock wedges into my bare ass and I can’t help but tremble at the memory of him.
Just this, this overwhelming, suffocating
he has, is rapturous. There’s something being nurtured in me. It’s dark. It’s frightening. It goes against everything I stand for, everything I believe I need to protect myself.
The need to relinquish. To just let him have his way.
He nibbles on my ear and I squirm. “Elise, you drive me crazy. Something about you--” he inhales deeply and pleasure seeps through me. “You want to submit. I can sense it in you. You want a big man to give you orders. To
I think about my jobs. Always a competition. A need to prove myself, that despite being a woman I’m as smart and capable as my co-workers. Or my father and brother, who always pushed me to be more. Quick. Sure.
He’s right, goddamnit. He’s right. The word he says--
. It speaks to me. It is a prayer, an offer.
But Locke, as ferocious and sexy as he is, is still going to be my employer. He still has a secret. I’m so sure of it, I can almost taste it.
“Soon, Elise. For now, let me challenge you. I’m going to spank you twenty times. Twenty, because you insist on putting your most badass face forward. Let’s see if you can make it to the end without speaking.”
Clever. He’s so clever. He’s using my competitive nature against me.
Locke’s hand smooths over my buttocks, soft, and it is immensely pleasurable.
Then he begins to spank in earnest. Each time his hand whips through the air before crashing onto my sensitive flesh. Heat is pricking, stinging. My eyes are watering. He strikes me so hard my hip bones jar into the desk, thump, thump, thump.
My pussy is so wet, the nerves screaming for release. Every five or so spanks, Locke stops and caresses the flaming skin. The touch is gentle, but it sparks me almost as much.
“Touch yourself,” he orders. It isn’t a request. My hand dives greedily between my legs, my fingers plunging into myself. I’m so close, it won’t take long. “Good. Stroke yourself. Spread your legs and show me how you like to be touched.”
His words are like booze. When mixed with the endorphins from the pain, I feel drunk. Drunk on his power. My fingers stroke my clit hard and fast, seeking a climax that’s just on the edge. I just need something to push me over--
“Come for me now,” Locke commands. “Say my name and come for me!”
It’s like he’s struck a match. The heat of the climax rips into existence and I scream as it pulses through me. “Jameson!”
He spanks me, then, the remaining four hits he owes me, and the pain of it mixes with the pleasure dragging my orgasm out.
“Fucking hell,” I curse as the climax recedes.
Elise cried out my name. Screamed it, really.
I just wasn’t expecting her to use my first name. No one calls me that. But on her lips?
My heart lurches in my chest. Oh, damn. This isn’t good.
But do I pull away? After countless warnings, omens, and red-flags that say ‘this girl could ruin you?’
Instead, I free my cock from my jeans and flip her over. Yanking her pants all of the way off, I left Elise’s legs until her ankles are on my shoulders and the head of my cock is slipping in the wetness at her pussy’s entrance.
Just before slamming home, I look at her. Really look at her.
Her hair is dark again without the sun to illuminate its golden tones. Tendrils of it are plastered to her forehead. Elise’s blue eyes seem even bluer in contrast to the red from the tears she fought back as I spanked her.
She’d taken every hit and not said a damned word.
The things-- the
! I want to do to this woman!
“Lift up your shirt,” I say, my voice so husky with lust it sounds like gravel in my throat.
Her trembling fingers grip the hem and she tugs it up, revealing her fantastic tits. Those large, pink nipples. Her soft belly is quavering, tight with anticipation.
When Elise bites her lip, I spear into her. Warm, wet heat envelopes me in a tight grip. Her moan is a song in my ears. Leaning forward presses her legs up, makes her pussy even tighter.
Time to make her scream again.
I pound into her, dragging my length almost all of the way out before thrusting back in. She takes all of my cock, her head thrashing, her voice becoming ragged from the repeated “yes! yes! YES!” that is her litany of pleasure.
My balls are tight, heavy with need for this girl. Her body is so perfect under mine. Her curves were meant for this. For grabbing, for plunging, for sex.
When I feel her wet channel clamping down on me, I know she’s close. Picking up the pace, I really nail Elise. I want us to come together-- something I’ve never cared about with any other woman.
Reaching a hand up her front, I palm one of those perfect breasts, loving how it feels in my hands. Then I pluck one of her pink nipples, pinching it between my finger and thumb, treating it as an anchor.
Elise arches her back, I slam into her, burying myself fully, and twist her nipple hard. Her shriek fills my office, fucking fills
, and I come. I come hard inside her, my semen rushing in a torrent into her hot hole. Elise is calling my name again,
! and she’s clenching down on my cock, coming with me.
We lock eyes as the climax ebbs and something passes between us. It’s potent. It’s irresistible and irrevocable.
Reluctantly, I pull out. Elise stretches like a cat, rocking and mewling in contentment on my desk. As I tuck myself back in and straighten my hair, her eyes go to a cup of fountain pens on my desk.
I raise an eyebrow as she pushes them off the desk, scattering them on the floor.
“I owed you for my desk,” she says playfully.
This moment is becoming too personal. Too intimate. Now that I’m not buried inside of her, luxuriating in her sensual, slick heat, my chest is tightening. I can’t fall for this woman. She can only be a moment’s entertainment. Sex.
I wanted her. I’ve had her now, twice. I got what I wanted, so why was I already thinking about how I could get her into my bedroom?
You can’t, Locke. If she knew about you--
“Get dressed,” I bark at her. Hurt skates across her features, but she does without complaint. “I need to show you around. And you’ll need to change for this evening.”
“What I’m wearing is fine for security,” she fires back. Elise sounds wounded, but fiery. I’ve pushed a button for her. Good. If she gets pissed at me, then she’ll just turn me down.
“It’s black tie. You need to fit in.”
Her cheeks are still pink from fucking, but they stain a little darker. “I don’t have anything like that.”
I think about the present I picked out and had Ben fetch for me yesterday. “I think we can solve that problem.”
Her eyebrows press together and even when she’s trying to figure me out, she’s adorable.
“I haven’t signed anything yet,” she warns. “I could walk.”
This gives me pause. She’s definitely wounded now. Her hands keep tugging at her shirt, as if she can cover her shame with the flimsy jersey. A pang of regret stabs at me as I acknowledge that I’m behind that.
Someone as lovely as she is shouldn’t feel guilt after her pleasure.
She’s right about her contract. There’s a building irritation in me and I realize I’m torn. Part of me wants her to sign the contract. It would be official. I’d be her employer, she my employee, and on top of that, she would undoubtedly be investigating me. Sex and emotions muddied up everything, and I needed my vision to remain crystal clear.
On the other hand, if Elise refused…
I could fuck her again. Not date, because there are too many skeletons in my past and a big one in my present to try to hide from a lover as sharp as she is. Naturally inquisitive. And naturally submissive.
My cock twitches at this thought and holy hell, we need a change of scenery or I am going to fuck her again.
“Do you still wish to?” I ask cautiously. “To sign the contract?”
I must have pushed her too far, because it takes her no time to squat and pick up a pen from the floor. “Just show me the dotted line, Locke.”