The Fighter's Secretary(9)

By: Ann Mayburn

A few moments later the door opened and she really, really hoped it wasn’t someone other than Dallas. She held her breath, refusing to look and praying that she hadn’t just given one of the guys from marketing a world-class view of her ass. Then again, at least she was wearing nice lingerie. She liked dressing ultra-conservative on the outside then wearing something feminine and slightly scandalous beneath. Today her high cut black panties were just shy of being a thong and had pretty pink bows along the band to match the pink bows on her garters holding up her stockings.

The scent of Dallas’s cologne reached her, mixed with his natural aroma, and she swallowed hard, waiting for his touch.

When he did speak his voice came out rough, his Spanish accent thicker than usual. “Goddamn, querida, I had no idea you hid such an amazing ass beneath those ugly skirts.”

She flinched at the first touch of his rough hand against the skin of her upper thigh right below the curve of her buttocks, his callouses scraping against her as he skimmed his palm up her leg and over the silk-covered curve of her butt.

“So soft, perfect.”

To her shock a moment later his lips followed the path his hand had taken, making her widen her stance and tilt her hips up with a shockingly animalistic groan coming from deep in her chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ve made sure the cameras are off. I don’t want to share the sight of your beautiful body with anyone, ever.”

Her heart raced at his words, at once mad at herself because she’d not even considered that, but also turned on by the possessive tone of his voice.

His lips left her skin and she whimpered when he returned to running his hand over her rear end. “Let me lay down a few ground rules with you. I plan on punishing you, bending you to my will, giving you the dominance you seem to crave, but I won’t fuck you unless you beg me. I may use my fingers on you, my lips, my tongue, but you don’t get my cock inside of you without pleading for it.”

She was ready to beg right now, and he hadn’t done more than run his lips and hands over her. Just the thought that this was Dallas saying all these wonderfully dirty things had her panties soaked with her arousal. Her clit throbbed and she tried to swallow back her needy moan as he stroked her leg.

“Answer me, Amanda. Do you understand?”


He gave her left butt cheek a brisk slap. “Yes what?”


“Oh, baby, you have no idea how sweet that sounds coming from your lips. Now, how much experience do you have with BDSM?”

“I…” She flushed and kept her eyes closed as she confessed her naughty secrets. “I’ve mostly experimented with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Experimented how?”

“Mostly just light bondage, some toys, and some orgasm denial. Nothing big, nothing like what I saw at…”

“At what?”

She flushed harder, not wanting Dallas to think she was some kind of slut, but then again, he was the biggest slut in the world so it wasn’t like anything she said could be worse than what he’d done. “I saw some things at a BDSM club that made me feel like my ex and I were just playing around.”

“What kind of things?”

His hand returned to her bottom and she shifted restlessly when he began to stroke his finger down the divide of her ass, stopping right before he got to her pussy. “I can’t think when you touch me like that.”

He palmed her sex and she gasped, arching up on the desk and pressing back into his hand. The low, husky tone of his voice rubbed against her like a touch as he said, “You’re so wet. You’ve soaked your panties.”

Pleasure arched through her as he took his middle finger and rubbed it over her cleft, finding her clit and pressing down hard enough that she hovered on the edge of orgasm from just that touch.

“Fuck. You’re very sensitive, aren’t you?”

“Yes, oh God, please, more.”

The evil laugh he gave as he tapped his finger against her clit made her shudder. “But you’ve been such a bad girl, breaking into my office, defiling my couch, playing with my toys without permission. First you need to be punished.”

“Please,” she moaned and opened her eyes for the first time, looking over her shoulder at him.

He wore a black button-down dress shirt along with a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly. Their gazes met and she found herself drowning in the darkness of his eyes, in the raw masculinity that was as much a part of him as his chiseled jaw and full lips. Everything about him was controlled, disciplined, and he drove her crazy. He had a beautiful mouth and she wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to rub herself against his body in all the ways she’d dreamed of from the moment she saw him.

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