Bigshot Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance Read online

  Jesus. She had no fucking clue what she did to me. She would see soon though. I couldn’t wait to have her in my office, to make her take care of this problem she’s caused me. Already the thought of her mouth on me is sending waves of anticipatory pleasure through me.

  The day passes at a snail’s pace. I’m distracted during meetings, useless at decision-making, and I even snap at Lottie when she tells me that I now have a conference call to conduct over lunch.

  I’m like a man obsessed. Possessed.

  I somehow manage to make it through the rest of the afternoon, until right around three. When my direct line rings.

  I pick it up because there aren’t that many people who know this number. Mostly family and a few VIP clients.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, stranger.”

  Fuck. And Lara.

  “What do you want?” My voice is brusque. I want her off the phone as soon as possible. I hate talking to her at the best of times, and I hate it more when it interrupts my delicious fantasies about Hannah.

  “Just calling to chat.”

  “Right.”

  “Honest. How are you?”

  “I’m great, Lara. Thanks so much for asking.” I let the sarcasm drip through loud and clear.

  Lara huffs on the other end of the phone. “I’m just trying to be nice, since I know you aren’t going to like the real reason I’m calling.”

  I sit up straighter in my chair. Like I said, I never like talking to Lara, but now I was intrigued — and on guard — about what she could possibly want.

  “Just spit it out.”

  “Fine.” She huffs again. “Word on the street is that Loft & Barn is in trouble.”

  An icy fury fills my veins. “Trouble?” I laugh. “That’s absurd.”

  Lara laughs back, but hers is an artfully practiced tinkle. “Come on, Trent. You know I’ll find out. I always get the story.”

  Lara works at Design Times, the biggest and most widely-read style magazine in the country. In fact, she was the one who first helped put Loft & Barn on the map. It was how we met, actually, when she came out to cover our very first product launch.

  “I’m very familiar with the lengths you’ll go to, to get a story,” I say bitterly, through gritted teeth. “But there’s no story here. You’re barking up the wrong tree, darling.”

  “Huh.” Lara pauses and there’s a silence on the other end of the line. I’m tempted to hang up but something makes me keep the phone pressed to my ear.

  “That’s so weird,” she drawls. “Because just the other day I met the sweetest woman — she works in the textiles industry, you’d really love her. Anyway, she told me that Loft & Barn canceled like, I don’t know, half of their fabric orders for this season. Isn’t that strange?”

  “Hardly,” I snort. “Fabric, Lara? That’s your angle?”

  There’s a silence on the other end of the line.

  “Want to at least give me a quote on that?” she finally prods.

  “Lara, I wouldn’t give you a lifejacket if you were drowning in a pile of your own bullshit.”

  I hang up the phone. I can feel the blood rushing through my temples. My whole body throbs with anger and irritation.

  I hate talking to Lara. All it does is remind me of how she played me.

  But the worst part of all of this?

  She’s right.

  The company is in trouble.

  Loft & Barn does amazing work — I still believe that. I’ll always believe that. Luke is a god damn visionary and his pieces are the ultimate combination of trendy and classic. And for the longest time, that was enough.

  Now, though, it’s getting harder and harder to compete with the big box stores, with the Ikeas and the Wayfairs of the world. The retail business is slowing down and our online business isn’t picking up fast enough to make up the difference.

  The worst part is that the entire success of the company is on my shoulders. Luke isn’t interested in the business side of things — all he wants to do is design and build furniture. Unfortunately that’s part of the problem — his custom pieces are difficult, expensive and time-consuming to reproduce, which means our profit margins shrink. Ironically, the nicer the piece, the less we make on it.

  We expanded into soft furnishings — curtains, rugs, pillows and shit — a couple of years ago and that helped for a while. Those things are cheap and easy to mass produce, plus they help to get people into the stores. But the temporary bump they’ve given us is shrinking, and so are our margins.

  I’ve tried talking to Luke about scaling back on some of the custom pieces but he shuts down every time I bring it up. He doesn’t think we should cheapen our business that way. I don’t disagree — but he isn’t the one who has to look our employees in the eye at these meetings. They depend on Loft & Barn for their livelihoods, and knowing that the more the company struggled, the more people we’d have to let go was not exactly a thought I relished.

  There’s a knock on my office door and it shakes me out of the negative thoughts I’m dwelling on. I glance at the time: 3:45. I grin — right on time.

  “Come in,” I say and watch as the door opens slowly. And then there she is. My Hannah. My sweet.

  “Come in,” I say again, and she steps fully into my office and closes the door behind her. Good girl.

  “Hi,” she says, and her voice is so soft and hesitant that it makes me want to scoop her up into my arms and cover her with kisses. I love how her shyness is so at odds with the dirty persona she projects online, the one I know is buried in there somewhere.

  Speaking of her online persona…

  I turn to my monitor. I already have the email cued up, since I’ve been rereading it all day.

  “Today all I could think about was your cock,” I read. I glance up and see her skin already turning pink. I hide a smile and turn back to the screen. “I thought about crawling underneath your desk and unzipping you and letting your hard heavy cock spill out into my hands. I thought about stroking your shaft, about tasting you, about running my tongue around your huge head.”

  Hannah is slumped against the door now, and I can see her chest heaving up and down as she pants. She’s embarrassed but turned on. It renders her helpless. I love the effect it has on her, the way it dilates her pupils, the way it colors her in a shade of pink that runs from her cheeks all the way down her chest, to where the soft swell of her tits is just visible over the edge of her dress.

  I can already feel my dick starting to stiffen.

  “What do you think?” I swing my chair around. “Ready for the next fantasy?”

  “I …” she trails off. Licks her lips. Swallows.

  I raise my eyebrows and then watch in amazement as she takes a few tentative steps towards me. That’s my good girl.

  My dick is getting even harder as she gets closer. I want to feel her hands on me, her sweet lips.

  When she’s close enough I reach out and grab her hand, tugging her the last couple of steps so that she’s standing between my knees.

  “I’ve thought about this for so long,” I tell her. My voice is hoarse. It’s almost embarrassing the effect she’s having on me. And she hasn’t even touched me yet.

  “I’m …” she pauses and then licks her lips again. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

  I don’t know if she means in general or right at this moment.

  “It’s not rocket science, darling,” I tell her. “Just do what feels good to you.” I figure that answer will satisfy in either case.

  She takes a deep breath and nods and then drops to her knees in front of me.

  Jesus. The sight of her there, kneeling between my legs, her dark brown hair loose around her shoulders, her pink lips parted — it’s already enough to make a grown man cry. When she reaches out a tentative hand and rubs my bulge through my suit pants, it almost kills me.

  “Fuck.” My head lolls back and I’m just closing my eyes when the phone rings. “Fuck,” I say again, b
ut this time for a different reason.

  I glance at the call display and see that it’s Lottie. She usually knows not to interrupt me when I’m in my office with someone, so I can only assume it’s important.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell Hannah as I give her the ‘one minute’ sign. I pick up the phone. “What?”

  I can’t keep the snap out of my voice and I feel a little bad for a moment. I’m definitely going to owe Lottie a bottle of wine or something after this week.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Whittaker, but Kenny Bradworth from shipping is here. He says he has an urgent matter that can’t wait.”

  God damn it. I hate Kenny to begin with, but I hate him even more in this moment. I glance down at the beautiful creature perched between my knees and I want to tell Lottie to tell him to fuck right off, but if he says the matter is urgent I probably need to deal with it right away. For all his terrible qualities, being prone to exaggeration isn’t one of them.

  “Fine. Tell him to give me two minutes.” That should give Hannah time to sneak into Luke’s office.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hang up the phone and glance down at Hannah, then lift her chin so that I can look into her beautiful brown eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I think this should only take a couple of minutes. We can reschedule or you can pop into Luke’s office until he’s gone, if you’d like? It’s up to you.”

  Hannah is still on her knees in front of me and I can see her face twisting as she considers her options. But then, she does something that surprises the shit out of me. Out of both of us, I think.

  She glances at the space under my desk and raises her eyebrows.

  “Wasn’t this one of your fantasies?” she murmurs. Her sudden brazenness floors me — and turns me on even more.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Hannah,” I assure her. What she’s suggesting is …

  “I know,” she whispers, and then she’s crawling under my desk right as Kenny Bradworth knocks on the door.

  23

  Hannah

  I don’t know what has come over me. Somehow being in Trent’s office, kneeling between his legs, seeing the bulge that was clearly visible under his suit pants … it had apparently turned me into a crazy person.

  Because what I had suggested — what I was about to do — was crazy.

  But ever since he had done those things to me in the conference room — those unspeakable things that still made my legs shake whenever I remembered them — I could only think about one thing.

  His cock.

  I needed to see it. I needed to touch it, to taste it. I had thought about him so many times, had fantasized about this so many times, that I couldn’t let it end without experiencing it just once.

  And I was pretty sure that if I walked out of his office now, I would never come back.

  So before my common sense can take over, I crawl under the desk. Luckily it’s a huge desk with a full back, so I’m not visible to Kenny Bradworth and there’s enough room for me to maneuver around a little bit. I stay on my knees but bend forward a little bit and Trent pulls his chair up carefully in front of me.

  I hear the door open and Trent and the other man greet each other. I hear the scrape of the chair as Kenny sits in one of the guest chairs across from Trent’s desk.

  I realize I’m holding my breath and I try to let it out as quietly as I can. Trent’s legs are spread pretty wide under the desk and I lean in a little closer so that I’m only inches from his cock.

  I reach one tentative hand out and slowly let my fingers graze against it. Trent twitches a little in the chair and I pull my hand back right away. Maybe this is too much.

  But Trent pulls his chair in a little closer and tilts his pelvis up a bit, giving me easier access. I can’t help the wicked smile that crosses my lips. Somehow knowing how badly he wants this — and how vulnerable he is in this moment — is turning me on almost as much as what he did to me in the conference room yesterday.

  I reach my hand out again and run my fingers along the outline of his cock. This time I’m a little more firm about it and soon I’m using my whole palm to rub him through his pants.

  I can hear them talking — something about overseas shipping. Trent’s voice sounds a little huskier than usual but otherwise he still seems remarkably composed. That only spurs me on more.

  I reach my other hand up, balancing on my knees with my arms on his thighs, and find his zipper. I pull it down slowly so that it doesn’t make a sound and then I let my hand slip past the fabric.

  I can feel the heat emanating off him. I find the slit in his boxer briefs and then I slip my hand past that fabric as well and then there is nothing between us anymore and I wrap my hand around his cock at last.

  Trent’s cock twitches as soon as I touch it and he makes a strangled noise that he quickly covers up with a cough. I bite off another smile. I like having this affect on him. I lift his balls out of the briefs so I can have easier access to those too.

  His cock is amazingly thick and I can’t even come close to closing my fingers around him, but I grip him as well as I can and move my hand slowly up and down the length of his shaft. His hips buck a little and he shifts them down another couple of inches.

  He still seamlessly keeps up his end of the conversation with Kenny.

  As I stroke his massive cock, I have a moment of incredulity. I can’t believe I’m doing this — jerking my boss off under his desk while he meets with a client. This is the stuff of fantasies — literally. It was the the kind of thing Trent and I described to each other, back when I never believed we would actually do any of them. And now here I was.

  Doing this. With him.

  But somehow, rather than scaring me, the thought makes me want to do it even more.

  I want to taste him.

  I lean my head forward and reach my tongue out tentatively. I flick the head of his cock lightly and he squirms in his seat. I lick him again. I like the salty musky taste of his skin. I lick my way around the head, coating him with my saliva, making sure he can feel my warm tongue all over him.

  He squirms in his seat again and I can feel his thigh muscles tensing under my forearms.

  I’ve never felt like I was very good at giving head — and I’m sure my ex would agree with that assessment — but right now, I feel like anything I do is going to drive Trent crazy. That’s a heady, powerful feeling.

  I grip my hand at the base of his cock and run my tongue along the full length of his shaft, over and over, coating all sides of it, and then I move down and do the same thing to his balls. I cover the entire sack with my tongue and then I slowly suck one of his balls into my mouth. Even his balls are huge — just one fills my mouth completely. I suck on it for a moment before doing the same with the other one.

  Trent is squirming for real now, and I wonder evilly what his guest must be thinking.

  When I’m done with his balls I pull his cock downward a little bit and take the whole head into my mouth.

  Trent gasps and then covers it up with another cough, one that draws out even further as I take him deeper in my mouth.

  When he finally gets himself under control, he resumes the conversation but I can hear the way his voice shakes. His legs are tense and shaking. I move my head up and down the length of his shaft, as well as I can, given the cramped quarters. I use my other hand to tug gently on his balls, rubbing my thumb over the spot where they connect to the base of his cock.

  With every stroke of my mouth, every twist of my tongue, the thrill and wrongness of what we’re doing hits me. Over and over. This is so bad. It’s wrong. It’s mortifying.

  And yet it’s so fucking hot.

  I feel like a completely different person as I take him into my mouth, as I feel his cock graze the back of my throat. It makes me want to do an even better job of it, so I suck him hard and let saliva pool over him so that he can slip in and out of my mouth better.

  “I don’t care,” Tr
ent is saying, and I wonder if Kenny hears what I do — the way his voice is hoarse and strangled. “I’m not signing off on that. I think that’s the end of this discussion.”

  “Fine.” There’s a scraping sound as the chair moves again and I realize the man is finally leaving. “But I don’t consider this matter resolved.”

  “I consider it … very close … to being finished.” Trent practically sputters out the words. “And I’ll ask you to leave now.”

  There’s a general grumbling from the other side of the desk but then finally I hear the sweet sound of the office door opening and closing again.

  “Oh, fuck.” Trent finally lets go at that exact second. My mouth is still wrapped around him and I can feel his hot come shooting into my mouth. It takes me by surprise but I react instinctively, swallowing it down in great greedy gulps. There’s more of it than I expected — it just keeps coming, filling my mouth, and the more I swallow and suck the more there seems to be.

  Trent has his hands in my hair and he’s bucking his hips against me, thrusting his cock into my mouth as he comes. He’s saying my name over and over again too, and it turns me on to hear him say it. Hannah has never exactly seemed like the name of a goddess, but on Trent’s lips, it sounds like sex itself.

  Finally he starts to slow his thrusts and the waves of his orgasm die down. I slowly pull my mouth off him but keep running my tongue around the tip, wanting to get every last drop of his pleasure.

  When it’s over, I finally look up at him. I feel shy all of a sudden, the reality of what we just did crashing over me like a ton of bricks.

  But Trent is looking at me with a soft expression, though he looks almost as stunned as I feel.

  “That was …” he shakes his head. “I don’t have words.”

  “You?” I smirk. “You always seem to have words.”

  “I know.” He shakes his head, laughing softly. “I think you sucked them all out of me.” He cracks a grin and I once again find myself blushing. Funny how he always seems to have that affect on me.