Lucy’s new boss is driving her crazy.
And I mean, in every possible way. Not only is he drop-dead gorgeous and deliciously domineering, but he’s absolutely insufferable, punishing her for breaking “rules” he never took the time to spell out and playing all kinds of bad boy head games.
But every time he bends her over his desk, spanking her backside raw, as specified in their business contract, she feels like a wild woman, lusting for him as pain turns to undeniable pleasure.
Giving in to her desires may mean destroying her brother Alex’s chance of getting out of jail in one piece, as keeping this job is her only way to pay off the mob boss threatening his life. But can she resist a man like Maxwell Pierce? Especially when he’s doing his best to get under her skin?
This 10,200 word story is the second part of BOUND TO HIM, the sequel to the best-selling series, The Billionaire’s Beck and Call, by Delilah Fawkes.
Don't miss BOUND TO HIM, PART 3 and PART 4, available now!
He was so close now, his body so near that I could smell his morning coffee and the expensive scent of his cologne. He looked down at me, as if he didn’t know what to say, bald lust right there, unhidden in his gaze.
“You need to be punished, you know,” he rasped.
He turned me around and pressed me to him, my back to his front, holding me tight across my stomach and shoulders, capturing me. I gasped.
“You’ll always address me as ‘Sir,’ when you’re being punished, Lucy. Do you understand?”
I nodded frantically, my body heating at his touch, but a cool stab of fear pricking me at the same time. His body was rock hard behind me, and I was tempted to reach down and run my hands over his hard thighs.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Good,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “You’re being punished for not texting me back, Lucy. When I ask you a question on your phone, you will always text back immediately.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but then I remembered.
What part of “immediately” was unclear, Lucy?
This man was absolutely impossible, but as strange as this was, I found myself smiling. He got me again. Damn him.
“I understand, Sir.”
“Well, let’s just make sure you do,” he said.
I stifled a moan as I felt his erection growing, pressing into my backside. He leaned down, then, so close I was sure I would feel his lips on my neck at any moment. I stiffened in his arms, not knowing what I would do if I did. I heard a soft inhale. He was smelling my hair.
Then, his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me across the room toward an ornate end table, and bending me over it.
“Put your arms flat on the table, and don’t move until I tell you to.”
I placed my forearms on the table, supporting myself on my elbows and risked a glance over my shoulder. Mr. Pierce’s eyes were on my backside now, and I bit my lip, realizing he could see the dove gray lace panties peeking out from under that short skirt, and wondering if he liked the view.
I could see his erection tenting his pants, the material tight around what looked like an impressive bulge. My fingers itched to reach back and stroke him through the material, to unzip him and take him out, to feel his hardness in the palm of my hand, but I stayed where I was, obeying him like a good little assistant should.
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