Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
That night, sipping champagne at the rooftop bar of Mike’s gleaming office building, I watched the sunset melt into the bay. The city below looked unreal, a fantasy of glass and neon and the occasional glint of water, as if the whole thing had been rendered for our private pleasure. Mike sat across from me at a tiny marble table, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, his hair mussed from the wind. He looked tired but happy, the lines at the corners of his eyes softened by the glow of the skyline.
I was still in my suit from the pitch, my feet screaming from the new heels, but I didn’t want to leave this spot. Not yet.
“So,” Mike said, topping off my glass with a flourish that somehow managed to be both mocking and sweet, “how does it feel to be a future nonprofit mogul?”
I snorted. “More like future nervous breakdown. Ask me again in the morning, when I’ve had a chance to hyperventilate in private.”
He laughed, then reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “You did so well today, Laura. I’m proud of you.”
That made me blush harder than anything that had happened in the conference room. I tried to hide behind my champagne, but it didn’t help. His compliment sat inside me like a warm stone.
The view was too beautiful, the air too perfect. It felt like we were on top of the world, except I still had the urge to check and re-check every word I’d said in the presentation for signs of weakness, the way I always did after any big event. I couldn’t let it go. The more I tried to enjoy the moment, the more I wondered if I’d already ruined it by doing something wrong.
I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you sure I didn’t screw anything up?” I asked.
Mike squeezed my hand, then let go and leaned back in his chair, studying me with that expression I’d come to fear and crave. “No screw-ups,” he said. “You nailed it.”
I shook my head. “But what if I missed something? I kept thinking, the number I gave for the Kenya pilot—what if it was the wrong one? I had two different estimates in my notes, and I think I might have—”
He cut me off with a slow smile. “You were perfect. The Kenya number was fine.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” I said, feeling the nerves begin to tangle up in my stomach. “What if I got it wrong and everyone thinks I’m an idiot and—”
“Laura,” he said, voice suddenly very quiet. “You know what happens to girls who get obsessed with being perfect?”
I looked up, unsure if he was joking. “What happens?”
He grinned, the kind of grin that made my insides light up and my thighs press together under the table. “They get taken home and spanked until they remember that being a good girl for their master is more important than being perfect. Then they take his cock in their tight little anus until they learn their lesson.”
I couldn’t help it—the heat hit me right between the legs. I squeezed my knees together, but it did nothing to stop the need rising in my body. I swallowed hard as I realized that I needed Mike’s firm hand more than I ever had before: that his command of my body had only deepened, to an almost frightening degree, over the month since he had first spanked me, fucked my bottom, opened my pussy on his enormous manhood. After the past few days, during which there had been no time for him to use me with his cock, I needed it all, right away.
“Promise?” I asked him, even as my breathing quickened in nervous anticipation.
“Promise,” he told me, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s go home.”
The End