62- Telling the truth

I try my very best to calm my annoyance at his snobbery. I place the folder on his desk and open it up. “Here’s the schedule for the conference at Breckenridge tomorrow and the lineup of speakers. I’ve also included the companies that will be present and the best potential prospects as major clients. The names of the CEOs that will be in attendance are also here.”
He doesn’t respond which is my cue to leave, but I’m not going to back down this easily. So I begin to circle his desk.
At my approach, he lifts his head.
I don’t dare meet his eyes as I come over to his side, slightly bending over to point out what I want his attention on from the schedule. “Here’s my recommendation for—”
“Step away,” he says.
The words are like the slash of a blade through my chest. Perhaps I have gone too far? I can’t help the burn of tears in my eyes, but in the following moment, I clear my throat and force myself to take the rejection in stride. “I have something to show you, sir.”
“You can do it from across the table. Please maintain your distance.”
“Why?” I ask, hating how he’s making me feel. In this moment, I have ceased to care whether I keep this job or not. “You’ve seen me naked and been inside me, and you didn’t seem to hate it at the time, so why are you treating me now as though I’m a leper?”
His eyebrows arch. “We’re at work Miss Tatum,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Good,” I reply. “Since we’re at work then award me the professional courtesy of at least looking me in the eyes while I’m addressing you. It’s alright if you say that you do not have the time, but don’t treat me like a fly on the wall.”

He leans back into his chair, and folds his arms across his chest.
Now, against my better judgement, my lower body is struck numb with arousal. It doesn’t help that he looks extra damn fine today in a dark green suit jacket, and a white dress shirt. His skin is glistening like satin, his hair swept smoothly away from his face, and the dark rimmed glasses that sit on his nose doing more damage to my heart than I can bear.
Why does he have to be so fucking attractive?
Once again, flashbacks come from that night, my clit in his mouth comes to mind and I quickly look away. I almost desperately want him to take me once again. I can see the problem now. How could I think that we could so easily work together?
“Are you done?” he asks.
I don’t respond and to my surprise, he keeps waiting. My gaze falters from his. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay. First of all, I'm not treating you like a fly on the wall, I’m treating you like your boss. Which means that I can choose to just listen to you rather than stop what I’m doing to give you the attention that you for some reason, feel you deserve. Secondly, before I hired you, you assured me that you could keep things professional between us. Therefore, this is my first and last warning to you, to not to breach my personal space again. If I call you over to point something out to me, then you do so, but if I don’t please don’t cross the line.”
I am speechless, and can no longer remain under his scathing gaze. My tone of voice dips till it's almost inaudible. “Yes, sir. Um, I included some suggestions on how to improve your presentation. I went through a couple of your old clips and I think that this will help us further engage your audience. The revised contract sent over by Bloom is also included in the folder so please go through it when you get the chance so that I can send it back to legal. I want to do more here than warm a seat, so I sincerely hope that you’ll give me the chance.”
With that, I turn around on somewhat wobbly legs, and it is nothing short of a miracle that I make it out of his office before crumbling. I shut the door behind me, and immediately sink to the exquisite mosaic flooring.


watch her leave and don’t miss the tightened fists by her sides.
I don’t blame her. I know I’ve been less than welcoming to her since she officially
accepted her position at the beginning of the week. But snubbing her isn’t wholly intentional either. I’m just not certain of how to properly process her presence and I haven’t taken the time either to reflect on it. So, I’ve just altogether pushed her out of my mind.
Except for the times when I arrive at the office. It’s too difficult then not to notice her. She’s usually either busy on her computer or going through documents, and each time it hits me just how unreal it is that I’ve had mind blowing sex with the woman. She is fucking stunning and in the tranquility of these mornings, it is almost impossible to get the notion out of my head that perhaps I will someday, be able to have her again.
Right now, I’m as hard as steel, making it very clear that I get some sick kick out of watching her fume. The last time was in the hotel room when I had challenged her age and the defiance in those deep green eyes had doubled my arousal. Now, and at the recollection of the fists by her side, all I can think of is binding her hands behind her and pounding my cock into her. Over and over again. Stretching and filling her till she is pulsing and panting from the passionate barrage. Her ass would repeatedly slap against my groin, flesh passionately hitting flesh, filling the room with the wild, maddening cadence of our grunts and moans.
My heart is now thumping against my chest, my breathing hard and heavy. Am I some sort of sick sadist? How can I intentionally ignore her and then relish the thrill of the aggravation it produces?
With a push, I move away from the desk and rise to my feet.
There is no way in hell that I’m going to be able to keep working without some sort of release, so I head to the bathroom.