After Hours with the Boss

It was after midnight, and the rest of the corporate floors were empty.

She'd stayed late to finish some quarterly reports that Dominic St. James had dumped on her desk at 6:47 p.m. with a quick, "I need these by morning."

Word was the man never slept and actually lived in the penthouse office three floors up. Judging by the half-empty glass of whiskey and the laptop still open on the huge desk, that was probably true.

Camila had just leaned over the side table to grab a folder she forgot when the door opened behind her.

"You're still here."

That voice did something to her. It made her thighs press together, even though her stomach had already dropped.

She stood too quickly, her stomach brushing the desk as her black skirt rode up. It never fit her quite right.

At twenty-four, she was his youngest assistant. She had brown skin, wide hips, and a chest that strained every blouse she owned.

Dominic St. James was thirty-five, 6'2", and always looked like he was on his way to something more important. He had dark hair and a sharp jaw, and he always looked at people like he was sizing them up. He closed the door without taking his eyes off her.

"I— the reports," Camila sputtered, her face getting hot. "I wanted them to be perfect. I didn't realize it was so late—"

"You stayed late in my private office without permission." He started walking toward her, not rushing. "That's a fireable offense, Miss Reyes."

Her stomach dropped. She really needed this job—the money and the insurance, and the fact that her mom called every Sunday to make sure she was eating.

Dominic stopped right in front of her, and she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

He didn't even pretend to look away as his eyes moved down her body. "On the other hand," he said quietly, "I'm not really in the mood to train another assistant this quarter."

Camila's heart was pounding in her throat.

He reached past her and clicked the laptop shut. Then he planted both hands on the desk beside her.

"Beg for it."

Camila stared at him.

For one stupid second, she almost laughed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"This is my job you're threatening."

"I know."

That answer stopped her. There was no apology in his voice. No hesitation, either.

"Then fire me."

Dominic's eyes narrowed.

She needed the job. The paycheck mattered. So did the insurance.

"You want me to fire you?"

"Yes."

"Then look me in the eye and say you don't want this."

Her mouth went dry. That was the problem. She did want it.

She played it cool for nine days. She ignored the way he looked at her when she turned in reports, and she tried to forget his voice once she got home.

She kept telling herself that her nighttime fantasies had nothing to do with the man whose office was three floors above hers.

Wanting him didn't mean she had to act on it.

Camila shook her head. "You're my boss."

"I know."

"And you're a jerk."

He smirked. "Probably."

She should've left. She stayed.

Dominic stepped closer. "Last chance, Camila."

Her pulse jumped.

Dominic didn't move or touch her. Camila swallowed. "Do you actually think I want this?"

"I think you'd be gone by now if you didn't," he said.

Heat rushed into her face

She hated that he was right. She hated herself more for wanting him to be

"Fuck," she whispered.

He didn't look away. "That's not an answer."

Camila swallowed hard. She reached for him.

"Please," she whispered. "Please fuck me, Daddy. I need it—I need your cock—"

He slammed into her in one brutal thrust.

Camila moaned when she hit the desk. He was thick. The stretch burned, but she craved more.

Dominic didn't slow down to let her get used to it. He gripped her hips hard, probably leaving bruises. He'd wanted her since the first day she walked into his office in that tight skirt.

Their bodies hit the desk with every movement. Her chest rubbed against the polished wood, and each time he pushed deeper, she made small sounds that only seemed to make him go harder.

"Listen to you," he growled, grabbing a fistful of her dark hair. He yanked her head back, forcing her stomach harder against the desk. "Taking it like you fucking want it. Look at you. Bent over my desk, waiting for me. You were made for this."

"Yes—fuck—yes, Daddy—"

He reached around and started rubbing her clit in tight circles while he kept pounding into her. Camila came suddenly, her legs shaking and her muscles clamping down on him so hard he cursed. He didn't stop, pushing through it and muttering against her neck as he lost control.

"That's it. Come on, your boss's cock. This is your real promotion, Camila. From now on, you don't leave this office until I've filled you up at least once."

He pushed in as deep as he could and groaned, pulsing inside her until she felt the heat leaking out.

Dominic pulled out slowly, and his cum ran down her thigh. He stepped back to look at her—skirt around her waist, panties at her knees, white streaks on her brown skin, and the clear marks of his fingers on her ass.

Camila just stayed bent over the desk, cheek against the wood, trying to catch her breath.

He fixed his pants, then reached down and tugged her panties back up, pressing the wet fabric against her.

"Tomorrow," he said, his voice calm again. "Wear a skirt again. No panties. And when I call you in at the end of the day, lock the door."

He walked over to the side table and poured some whiskey, taking a slow sip while she tried to stand, still shaking. He watched her.

"Welcome to the real job, Miss Reyes."

"Yes, Daddy," Camila whispered.

Dominic smiled. "Good girl. Now get out of here before I decide I want another round."She fixed her skirt with trembling hands and walked to the door, her legs still shaking. Just before she stepped into the dark hallway, she looked back.

"Tomorrow," Dominic called out from behind her. "Wear a skirt again. No panties. And when I tell you to come in at the end of the day, lock the door."

She stopped in her tracks. She turned around slowly. "No."

Dominic just raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"I said no."

For once, Dominic looked surprised.

Camila opened the door. "Good night, Mr. St. James."

She stepped out into the hallway before he could even respond.

The door clicked shut behind her.

She only got three steps away when her phone buzzed.

It was a text from Dominic.

6:47. My office.

Camila stared at the screen.

Then another message popped up.

And Camila?

She got a queasy feeling in her stomach.

Wear the skirt.

She probably should've just deleted the texts. But she saved them.