Hidden Love by MINK

5

Liam

Eating my lunch alone doesn’t bother me. Not at all. Never has. I slice my rare steak with a sure stroke of the knife, fork the tender piece, and put it in my mouth. My office is silent, and Georgia’s sweet, sunshine scent barely lingers in the sterile air. Good. I don’t need her perfume ruining my food.

I chew another piece and glance at the press release she drafted up concerning our recent acquisition of an up-and-coming telecom out of California. She’s done a good job, though she needs to add some parts about federal regulations. But she can write. That’s more than I can say for several of her empty-headed predecessors. Even so, Georgia isn’t who I would’ve chosen for this position. She’s too … Too. I wave my knife at the air, slashing through whatever word is on the tip of my tongue.

The vegetables are cold. I eat them anyway. Chewing mechanically, my thoughts wander to her again. She’s eating lunch with that pipsqueak, Jim, from the mailroom. Jim. I stab my steak and cut another chunk off. Who the fuck is that guy and why does he think he gets to lunch with my assistant? I stab the plate so hard I knock the flower off the tray.

Snagging it off my desk, I frown at the white rose. Georgia. It has her all over it. The thought to place it with my lunch, the smile on her face as she delivered it. I intend to make that smile disappear soon enough. This Friday, in fact, she’ll be on my arm for the charity gala thrown by her father every year at the opera house. That’s where I’ll show him his pride and joy now turned into my underling.

I lick my lips. Maybe I could do more with her than simply employ her. Not because I want her, of course, but because I want Duncan Lavine to suffer. If he knew I was putting it to his daughter, that might make my coup even more thorough.

Too bad Georgia’s not my type. Her smiling cuteness isn’t the sort of thing a man like me chases after. I sniff the air, catching her scent again, then breathe it in more deeply. Sweet and tantalizing. That’s what she is. And no, of course I don’t want her on her knees right now sucking me off as she looks up at me with her big, sparkling eyes. That’s ridiculous.

No, having her in my employ is enough. I don’t have to take this any further. No need. I spear another vegetable when my phone begins to ring.

And ring.

And ring.

Georgia didn’t forward my calls. I pull my napkin from my lap, dab my lips, and fold the fabric into a neat rectangle.

I know what needs to be done. It’s crystal clear. It’s perfectly professional and not at all tawdry or born of desire. No, this is discipline, and I’ll mete it out shortly.

* * *

She’s back. I can hear her just outside my office doors. She walks with a sassy gait, her hips swinging, her backside perfect in her almost-too-tight skirt. I’ve already memorized her footsteps.

I press my finger to her button on my phone. “Ms. Lavine, come to my office.” Rising from my chair, I straighten my tie and walk around my desk.

She opens the door and hurries in. No knock.

“Yes, Mr. Baxter?” She’s breathless, as if she ran down the hall to make it back to her desk before the hour for lunch had elapsed. She made it, though, with a minute and some change.

“Did you read the instructions on how my office is run?” I walk toward her, enjoying the view as her nipples harden.

“Yes. Three times.” She puts a hand to her cheek as I approach.

I step around her and turn the lock on my door. “Three times?”

“Yes.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “Why? Was something wrong with your lunch?”

Innocence flows from her, the wide-eyed way she watches me, the faint pink on her cheeks, the way she stands in her demure heels. How did my enemy create such a pure beauty? Surely, it’s a trick.

“My lunch was fine. It was the phone that was wrong, Ms. Lavine.”

She gasps. “Oh, no! I didn’t forward the calls. I’m so sorry. I won’t let that happen ag--”

“Shh.” I walk past her, anticipation throbbing in my veins. “It was a mistake.”

“Yes.” She nods and follows me toward my desk.

“An error.” I rub my palms together.

“Yes,” she readily agrees. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I turn to her and pat the top of my desk. “No need for it.”

“Really?” She looks at my hand, her angelic face twisting a bit in confusion. “You aren’t mad?”

“No. Not mad. But this does call for discipline.”

“Oh, no.” She hangs her head. “A note in my file. It’s my first day, and I already have a mark on my record.” Her chin trembles.

“I thought that might be too harsh for this infraction.” I try to sound concerned, though I doubt I pull it off.

“Yes, please don’t do that.” She steps back. “I mean, if you have to, I understand. But I really wish you wouldn’t. This is my first job, and I really want to do good work for you.”

“I’ve come up with another solution.” I point to the desk. “Hands here.”

She looks at my desk. “What?”

“Hands here.” I step back to give her room.

“Put my hands on your desk?” She cocks her head as if she misheard me. She didn’t.

“Yes.” I cross my arms. “But if you’d prefer a note in your file, I can always--”

“No.” She steps forward and puts her hands on my desk.

So naïve. Does she truly believe I’d send these “notes” to anyone? Do they not teach human resources practices in schools? Good. It’s best if she thinks a note in a file means something.

“Now what?” Her tongue wets her bottom lip as I unfold my arms.

“Bend at the waist.” I reach out and put a hand on her back, pushing her to the desk and forcing her taut ass to jut out.

“What are you--”

“Remember, sunshine, this will save you a write-up.” I grip the hem of her skirt and slowly pull it up. Her white panties are revealed, the lacy fabric cutting high like boy shorts along her cheeks, then delving between.

She gasps as I ease my fingertips over her soft, warm skin.

“This is discipline.” I step back and stare at what she’s revealed to me. I want to spread her legs more and get a view of her pussy, but that’s not what this is about. My cock disagrees as it stages a deathmatch with my zipper. But I’m a man of my word, and I will give her the punishment she deserves. “Do you understand that this is professional development?” I flex my fingers.

She looks at me over her shoulder, her doe eyes wide. “Yes,” she squeaks.

“Do you admit you are in need of discipline?” I meet her gaze.

“I …” She lets out a huff of breath and shifts her hips. “Yes.”

“And you prefer this to a write-up? Is that correct?”

Her hips move again, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was turned on. That she wants me to redden her ass with my palm. And perhaps she wants me to do plenty more than that. But I won’t. After all, this is about correction, not some tawdry work affair.

“I need you to tell me you understand and that you accept this discipline. If you decline, you’ll keep your job. So don’t worry about disappointing me.” Don’t disappoint me. Something tells me she won’t. My sunshine wants to please me.

“I accept.” Her words are breathy, sexy, and I fear I may obsess over them for far longer than I should.

“Good. Very good.” I line up, my hand already tingling in anticipation. Rearing back, I slap her ass with a hard smack and she jolts forward, her hips rocking as a delicious squeal rips from between her teeth.

When I rear back again, I smile for the first time in a long, long time, and swing at her luscious ass with a verve that I’ve never felt before. The resounding slap rockets around the room, and her cry is like fire in my veins.

I smack her round ass a few more times, though not as hard. When I’m done, I want to drop to my knees and kiss the sting away. But I don’t. Because I’m a professional. So, instead, I grab the hem of her skirt and pull it down, then turn her to face me.

She’s breathless, her eyes glossy and her lips parted. Her eyes dart to my mouth.

I step back. “You may see yourself out, Ms. Lavine. And please keep in mind that any further breaches of my protocols will result in further discipline.” I know that if I reached between her thighs right now, I’d find her warm and wet. I can feel it, but I don’t do it. This is a workplace, after all.

“I’ll just …” She takes a few steps, stops, adjusts her skirt, then walks with more purpose. “I’ll be at my desk.” Unlocking the door, she walks out.

I smirk and try to adjust my rock-hard cock so that my boxers don’t strangle it. She’ll be feeling me for a while. Let’s just see if she’s as sunshiny after her little run-in with my spanking hand.