Bossy Request Read online

  Bossy Request

  by Lacey Silks

  Kobo Edition

  Copyright 2012 © Lacey Silks

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  Publisher’s Note

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher and author.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, influding infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains sexually explicit scenes which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  ISBN-978-0-9917772-2-8

  Sharon helps her hot boss to match his ties to his wardrobe every morning. Straining to keep their working relationship professional, she keeps her distance from Frank until an accident at work forces them closer. An invitation to dinner, to thank Sharon for her help, stirs feelings she’s hidden from Frank for years. Fearing she could lose her job if their relationship flourishes, Sharon hesitates. Frank’s feelings toward his secretary are tested. He can no longer resist Sharon, and makes his move. Will Sharon begin to work under him the way he’s dreamed for years?

  Bossy Request is an erotic romance short story, approximately 5600 words (250 words/page). Contains adult content and graphic sex scenes (M/F).

  CONTENTS

  Beginning

  Middle

  End

  About the Author

  More work by Lacey Silks

  Connect with Lacey online

  To our hot bosses

  ***

  I adjusted Frank's tie with passion, the same way I did each morning. The man had no sense of style. In the top drawer of his office desk he kept over thirty ties, all neatly folded in custom-made, six-by-five compartments. Before work started, my boss counted on me to pick the right one for his outfit.

  "Hold still." I tugged at the loop, tightening the fabric. My eyes leveled at the height of his Adam’s apple.

  "You changed your perfume." He sniffed. “Very compelling. What's it called?”

  "Thank you, but I don't remember," I lied, adjusting his collar. My cheeks felt hot. How could I tell him the scent's name sounded like 'fuck'?

  "It smells like F.C.U.K." He grinned, holding my gaze. Something about Frank’s green eyes and caramel skin made him sexier than most men. And the morning aftershave he wore intoxicated me as if I had drunk a bottle of wine instead of coffee. The scent’s lethal dose warmed my body from my nose down to my toes.

  "Yeah, I think that's it. You're all done." I stepped back just as my pulse began to race.

  "One day I'll take you out to dinner to thank you properly for keeping me coordinated."

  Dinner with Frank was an offer most of his female co-workers would have jumped at; perhaps the male ones too. After all, the thirty-year old executive had everything a girl could want: a career, independence, money, expensive taste in cars, and the looks of a supermodel. He was a California surfer living in New York. Frank's morning workout in the company's gym downstairs had him ripped like a Roman statue. And the fact that he was the kindest man I’d ever met was an added bonus.

  I heard myself sigh. Frank’s smoldering eyes sparked with a mysterious flicker, catching me off guard. He narrowed his brows, and then resumed fixing his hair in a full-length mirror. What secrets were those green gems hiding? Why had he been single all these years?

  Standing so close to him in his office each morning when I chose his tie gave me a chance to brush up against his muscular arms, glide my fingers along his pecs, and touch his chin with the back of my hand; all accidentally—at least, he thought so. As comfortable as our relationship was, he remained my boss. And I needed to keep my job.

  I stepped closer, peeking at his reflection beside mine. We did look good together, except I could have wished for bigger boobs, wider hips, and a plushier rear. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t quite supermodel material, especially in terms of my height, but it was me in his office every morning helping Frank, no one else.

  "For all the times I've helped you, you owe me dinner in the most expensive restaurant." I stepped back and leaned my behind on his desk.

  “How long have you worked under me?” He turned his attention back to me and strolled over. His eyes narrowed and my heart began racing again at the entendre.

  The way I’d imagined working under Frank had a different meaning for me. Was that his intent?

  “Five years,” I whispered.

  “Yes, it’s definitely time for an expensive restaurant.” He smiled.

  “Your coffee is ready.” I pointed to the steaming mug.

  “I’m in meetings all day, but I’ll try to arrange something,” he said.

  I held my breath. He’d really do it. Frank would take me out to dinner!

  “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything,” I turned on my heel, feeling a heavy stare on my behind. Before I left his office, I locked my gaze with his again. His eyes gleamed with desire, but unfortunately there was nothing I could do about it.

  I kept his sultry expression in my mind for the rest of the day, though, and into the night.

  Friday morning, I arrived at work an hour early. A restless night of wet dreams had kept me awake for hours. I clenched my right hand, recalling the gentle massage that turned into a full-throttle rub in my dream about Frank. It wasn’t the first time.

  As I passed the company gym downstairs, I saw Frank running on the treadmill. I stood by the glass wall, watching sweat drip down his back.

  Leave it to Frank to break the gym's rules and not wear a shirt.

  He pushed forward, faster. His body moved in a perfect rhythm, not a spot jiggling—except perhaps his package at the front, which unfortunately I couldn’t see. From the fitted suit he wore to work, I knew it was a worthy package. It had been a while since I'd seen him run, and I had forgotten how good he looked without a shirt.

  I found myself staring at the side view of my boss's physique until he caught me. Heat rushed toward my cheeks, and I ran away like a little girl. Was that how I wanted him to think of me? A little girl? In my mid-twenties, I was old and mature enough to handle a man like Frank. Did I want to handle him? No, I couldn't. He was my boss. It was strictly against company policy to get involved with co-workers.

  I rushed up to my office, disappointed I couldn’t look at Frank as just my boss. How could I look him in the eye this morning when I helped him with his tie? I’d have to concentrate on his Adam’s apple again, but that was an even bigger turn on. Would he want to chat with me about company policies? He hadn’t before. It wasn't the first time he’d caught me admiring him; except each time, I had pretended it hadn’t happened. Ogling Frank as if he were being served on a platter and I were a star
ving whore had been the best perk of my job for years.

  Flushed, I sat in Frank’s leather chair and opened my legs. A breeze blew up my pencil skirt, cooling through the dampness in my underwear. If I didn’t regain control before Frank came, I’d need to sneak off to the bathroom to release myself.

  To forget about my hot boss, I decided to begin my morning routine earlier. I swiveled on the chair and opened the drawer to tidy up his ties. On the top, an olive envelope popped out with my name on it: Sharon.

  The gentle strokes and curves of the cursive font suggested a well-thought-out message. I lifted the envelope to my nose. Frank's cologne filled me, and I imagined it mixed with the salty sweat of his body. I rushed to my cubicle and carefully pulled the metal opener along the edge.

  Sharon,

  Please accept my invitation to a formal dinner at my house, tonight at 6:00 p.m. I’d like to show you my gratitude personally, instead of at a restaurant. I hired a chef, so I promise you the food will be delicious.

  I cannot imagine anyone else working under me, and I can’t wait to thank you properly.

  Frank

  My knees suddenly felt week. I was sure there was something in the company's policies about a boss inviting his secretary to dinner. But it was just dinner. Right? Nothing else. Frank went to company dinners all the time—although I didn’t think any of them happened at his house.

  And, he’d hired a chef! For me. Well, at least we wouldn’t be alone. Did I want to be at Frank’s house by myself? No, that was something that I could not handle. Perhaps if I organized his ties at home it would make it easier for him to get dressed in the morning... No, I couldn’t do that. I wanted to help him in the office with his ties in the morning. Dressing him was the best part of my job.

  I hurried off to the lunchroom to get Frank's and my coffee. Why had he sent such a fancy card? Why not just ask me? Was this more than a thank you? Did I want it to be? No, it didn't matter how hot he was, I needed to keep it professional. My job depended on it.

  As I contemplated what I should say to my boss, part of me got lost in the thought of what it would be like to visit his house. I've never been there, but I'd heard rumors about his kinky decor that resembled a porn set—with dance poles, satin sheets, cameras, red lighting and all.

  I poured the coffee into both mugs.

  Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if some bitter former employee had made it all up because Frank wouldn't sleep with her. He was one of the most professional bosses I'd ever had—not that I’d had many. I simply couldn't imagine him differently.

  A soft brush on my shoulder startled me, and I jumped up. The steaming coffee spilled on my silk blouse.

  "Ahh! Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot!" I tried to pull the wet fabric off my skin.

  "I'm so sorry, Sharon! Quick, hands up." Frank tugged the hem of my blouse out of my pencil skirt.

  I lifted my arms and he pulled it off, blowing a cooling breath on my chest. I hadn't noticed when his swift fingers unbuttoned the top.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  I clenched my fists as the heat spread from my chest inwards. Frank kept blowing at my front as he waved a folder he’d brought with him.

  "Now I really have to make it up to you." His concerned gaze flew to the olive envelope I'd set on the counter. "You're hurt."

  I looked down at my barely covered chest that had taken on a pinkish shade. My soaked bra didn't help to hide my beasts. That's when I noticed my nipples hardening as his cooling breath soothed the burning sensation.

  Frank took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Come quick. No one else is here yet." He grabbed the envelope, stuffed it in his pocket, and pulled me along into his office. Frank locked the door behind him and then guided me to the private quarters of the room that I rarely ventured into. Behind glass doors that separated his workspace was a lounge chair, an original Picasso painting, and three potted plants. The view opened onto the Hudson River, glistening in the morning sun.

  My chest pulsed with heat from the coffee and I felt weak in the knees.

  “Sit,” he ordered, gently pressing on my shoulders.

  I sat down and leaned back on the lounge chair, shaking. He lifted my feet up on the chaise. Chills began running over my body, turning the burn into shivers.

  Frank knelt on the white rug at the foot of the seat. "Let me see the damage." He began opening the jacket, but I gripped its edges shut.

  “Sharon, we need to cool it down,” he whispered.

  I let go of the fabric and let him expose me, again.

  He examined my front before his head came closer to my chest. “Don’t be afraid.”

  The sound of his soothing voice calmed my nerves, but when his lips touched my chest I felt my breath lock in my lungs. It wasn’t a kiss, just a touch of his mouth against my skin. My insides clenched the same way my fists had.

  "I think it's calming down." He pulled away and gently placed his palm to my chest. A new wave of shivers ran through me, this time from anticipation of the pleasure I thought about when Frank’s lips were involved, and I forgot the burning pain.

  “You got some on your undergarments too. I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

  “It’s not your fault,” I heard my voice shake. “I should go get that washed in the bathroom.” I pointed to my stained blouse in his hand.

  “I will have none of that.”

  Frank stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. I stopped breathing. He sat at the foot of the lounge as the fabric slid off his shoulders and arms. His naked torso was just what I needed for the prickling tingles to return to my body.

  “Come here.” He motioned with his hand to move toward him.

  I leaned closer. Frank wrapped his shirt around my shoulders, helping me put my arms into the long sleeves as gently as possible.

  “You’re getting the rest of the day off,” he whispered. “You need to get this checked out by a doctor and call me as soon as you’re all right. I wish I could come with you, but I’m in meetings all day. And they’re not ones I can cancel.”

  Frank hung on to the front of his shirt and pulled me in closer. His eyes glistened with a mix of regret and lust.

  “I think I’ll be fine, Frank. Really. And you need your shirt back. I can wear my sweater.” As much as I wanted to look away, I couldn’t help marveling at his naked torso. My hand twitched; I wanted to touch his pecs and run my hands over them.

  “I have a spare shirt in the closet,” he whispered, pointing to the right, but neither of us looked.

  Frank’s mouth was only inches away from mine. His breath warmed my lips. I found myself leaning in closer with each inhale, tasting his exhales until our lips touched. I did not move and neither did Frank. His hands held mine. The kiss, unlike what I expected, reminded me of when I was a girl, kissing a boy under a bridge at the tender age of nine. My lips burned more than my chest, and the need in my panties made me open my mouth wider.

  He pulled away. “Oh, Sharon,” Frank breathed against my lips. “If I continue this now, I won’t stop.”

  Speechless, I sat with my mouth open.

  “Close your mouth. It drives me crazy each time you open those lips.” He tapped my chin from below.

  I took a sharp inhale. How could someone like me drive this hunk crazy?

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I value you here, more than anyone, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your job.” Flustered, Frank stood up, running his fingers through his hair.

  “Of course,” I whispered.

  “Like I said, you take the rest of the day off, and for goodness sake, see a doctor.”

  I didn’t like his commanding tone. This was the Frank I’d heard on conference calls, not one just kissing me.

  “I will.” My quiet answer broke his unnerving stroll across the office.

  “I’m sorry, Sharon. I don’t mean to sound harsh. I feel bad I’ve ruined your outfit and now for kissing you.”

  He felt bad
about the kiss? I didn’t. The morning, so far, had been one of the best ones I’d had at this job. The caring Frank I wondered about showed me compassion and now regretted kissing me.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I stood up as professionally as I could. If there was anyone who could get a hint, it was me. “The day’s schedule is on your desk, Frank.” I straightened his oversized shirt and headed toward the door.

  “Thank you. And Sharon, I understand if you’re upset with me and don’t want to, but it would mean a lot if you could still make it to dinner tonight. I will be ready no matter what you decide.” He handed me the olive envelope.

  Confused, I took the invitation and left the office. Frank still wanted to thank me for keeping him coordinated. Would it be awkward after the kiss between us? A proper secretary who wanted to keep her job would decline, but the more I thought about Frank’s lips and naked chest, the swelling below my navel increased and curiosity swayed my decision. I’d been proper long enough. If the bare touch of his lips could stimulate me, what would happen if he rubbed his body against mine? Was it something I wanted to risk losing my job over?

  Yes, it definitely was.

  But what if Frank kept the dinner professional? I couldn’t just throw myself at him. I’d just have to keep it formal.

  On the way home I stopped by a men's store and picked out a purple tie. It was the one color I'd never seen Frank wear. I didn't really care if the sales lady stared at my unconventional ensemble of a pencil skirt and an over-sized man's shirt, because Frank had kissed me.

  ***

  I rang the doorbell. A chime echoed seductively. It played for a few seconds before softening into a silence. Frank opened the door, looking rattled.

  "Hi," he smiled. "Right on time." His casual tone, more like a friend than boss, surprised me as he composed himself within a second.

  "Hi," I answered.

  "Come in, Sharon." Frank opened the door wider and I stepped inside. The walls of the hallway were wrapped in tapestries. The black and red curved patterns were illuminated by the warm glow of sconce lighting. This home bore no resemblance to the contemporary design of Frank’s office.