Bossy Valentine: A Steamy Older Man Office Romance Page 2

  If Mr Eglinton and I were working late one time and he decided that I was after all the perfect girl for him, instead of the skinny model girl types he prefers but never lasts with. If I was the type of woman with the confidence to slide one painted fingernail up his shirt placket and tantalizingly unhook a button, then another until his amazing toned chest was bared. How I'd love to see his strong ripples of chest exposed.

  “Can I see you, Mabel?”

  I'm jolted out of a delicious daydream by the husky raw voice of all my fantasies coming out of the intercom on my desk.

  “Yes, Sir. Right away.”

  I jump up from my chair and smooth my skirt down. Not that it's ridden up but I need to compose myself. Christ, I hope there aren’t any damp marks on the back. I try to strain back over my shoulder which of course is hopeless. No one can see their own ass, luckily.

  I go in, making sure not to turn my back fully as I close the door. Just in case.

  “How's the ankle?” Darcy inquires immediately, his eyes scouring over me so that goosebumps leap up along my arms and down my thighs.

  “It's fine, honestly,” I tell him, perching on the edge of my seat, both literally and figuratively.

  For some reason I'm all befuddled by doing my job all of a sudden. It must be the return from the surreal experience of palm trees and sultry weather to the middle of gray winter. Along with the humiliating experience with Sam.

  “Look at me,” Darcy commands.

  My eyes bat up to his gorgeous face instantly. So much more mature and confident than my ex. Than anyone I've ever been with, in fact. My heart is racing at the sudden dominance in his tone. He binds my gaze in his for what seems like a decade and I need to look away before my cheeks ignite and burst into flame. I'm certain they're already a pair of red beacons brighter than those slutty panties left in my desk. But I can't rip away from the depth of his stare, delving so far into me I feel stripped naked and spread across his desk. Oh god. Bad image to conjure.

  “I've ordered a doctor to come look at you,” Darcy eventually says. “He'll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Truly, Sir, you didn't need to go to the trouble. I'm sorry to be a bother -”

  He holds up his hand for silence and I clamp my mouth shut before I go reeling on. I don't know why I've become so unhinged today. I'm always so organized, calm and in control and now I'm a jabbering, shaky dummy. I should change my name from Mabel to Dumbell.

  “Is that all, Sir?”

  I'd like to leave the taut pressure in the room which seems airless today.

  “No,” he barks. “Just sit there and wait for the doctor. So I know you aren't running around on me.”

  “Oh,” I squeak. Then add a “kay” when I realize how silly I sounded.

  I can't stop myself from rubbing the side of my neck that is prickling. It's so hot in here, there seems to be no oxygen and I can't breathe. I hope I’m not coming down with something. No way I can take another week away from Eglinton.

  I'm being ridiculous. This is all my mind desperately reaching to find a cover up for the embarrassment of being jerked and dumped. Because of course nothing could ever happen between Darcy and me. We work together as close as two people can. Imagine if something did – go on - and then we had to face each other every day. The awkward indiscretion would be intolerable.

  I'm sure Mr Eglinton would find some reason to boot me from my job in the name of evading that discomfort. I know how guys are. Breaking up by text instead of facing the girl. Screwing other girls behind cabanas instead of owning up to the girlfriend that they brought them along for benefits only.

  Bitterness alert.

  I will not think of Sam. I've got better things to think of because Darcy may be a bit of an arrogant alpha boss man but he's entitled to be. He's got all the required attributes whereas Sam is just a douche.

  Chapter FOUR

  Darcy

  Normally I have no idea what my secretary is doing at her desk or who stops by to speak to her. Today I've set the glass blackout on my office walls from opaque to transparent, driven to keep my eyes on her. In fact I'm so mesmerized by every movement of her enticing body, I've done little to zero work.

  The whole day has passed with me trailing my stare over Mabel, sitting on the other side of the glass wall. Untouchable but so perfectly fuckable, I can't stop imagining her bent over my desk with her legs stretched wide apart. Her crack enticingly parted.

  She's wearing a tight knee length skirt and white blouse, to give her that efficient assistant look. I'd have to drag the skirt all the way up her thighs. Until her perfect bottom was exposed and her thighs would have the space to open for me.

  Now I recall last summer when she wore those floral pattern sundresses in the stifling heat. At the time they made me think of my grandmother but now for some reason, I can see how easily that lightweight full skirt would drift up her thighs and me delving right into a pair of white lacy panties.

  This is madness – the woman is driving me into distraction all of a sudden.

  I save the work I have for her until late enough in the afternoon that she'll have to stay on overtime. She takes it with a smile and not a word of complaint. I love that she's so compliant. How far would she let me go with her body? I'm relishing the images that come rushing into my mind when I detect some movement. I look up and see some guy that doesn't work here at Mabel's desk.

  The boyfriend.

  Fuck, I forgot about that asshole. Forgot she was already taken. By that douche that in no way deserves her.

  It makes sense he'd start coming to pick her up after work now that they've taken it up a level. I guess her vacation really was fine. The way she said it when I asked, gave me a momentary glimpse of possibility. That she was available.

  Let's call that elevator madness, because here he is all possessive. Look at the way he's standing in front of her like she's his property. His back is to me, but his hands on his hips plainly tell me he's dressing her down about something.

  Mabel frowns and from the look on her face she's not pleased to see him. She shakes her head more vigorously no and I can't resist flipping the intercom to hear their conversation.

  “It's Valentine's Day, if you haven't forgotten,” the douchebag says. His name eludes me although I'm pretty sure Mabel introduced him at the Christmas party.

  She's nodding her head now; yes, she knows the holiday.

  That fucks me off and the blood boils through my veins. Why does he get to have her on that day for lovers? She should be mine.

  In my fury, I lose the continuation of the conversation and am only brought back by raised voices. Mabel's on her feet now, as though to reassert herself and not be intimidated by the asshole boyfriend standing over her. Why cant she see she's way too good for him? Am I listening to a lover's quarrel?

  I can't hear because my blood surges up again as the asshat takes a step forward and cups Mabel's arms in his grip as though he's about to shake the life out of her.

  Normally I'd turn a blind eye to the private lives of my employees. But not when it comes to Mabel. No one gets to put his hands on her aggressively. Not when she's under my protection. Or ever for that matter. I can't stop myself from rising and stepping swiftly out of my office. Mabel's eyes fly to me the instant I throw back the door, full of apology.

  “Are you here to see me, Mr -?” I inquire, my voice as low and kind of menacing as I can muster without coming across all mafia don.

  “No, I'm speaking to Mabel, if you don't mind giving us a moment, dude -” the arrogant idiot replies, turning to me with a dismissive half sneer.

  Mabel's mouth drops open slightly and her eyes take in my hands which I realize are tight fists at my side. I've had enough of this shithead in my space, with my woman.

  “I do mind – Dude,” I snarl. “Mabel's on my time and I like my employees to take care of their personal business outside my building.”

  The way that comes out makes it sound like I own her th
rough office hours Monday to Friday and I'm fine with that. I only wish it extended into after hours, all night long and especially the weekend. When I'd lie in bed late with her and bring her breakfast to keep her strength up for everything I'd do to her on a lie-in Sunday.

  I cross my arms over my chest so as to keep from decking him. He's squaring me up, like a fucking wild dog. He's about a decade younger but I'm almost a whole head taller than him and way more built. He can come and get it if he thinks he can take it.

  “I'm sorry, Mr Eglinton,” Mabel says nervously.

  I don't know which of us is making her skittish but one of us is exiting the premises right now.

  “That's okay, Mabel,” I make her name sound like I own it too. “But please keep the personal chit chat to after-work hours.”

  I can tell by the look on his face that the boyfriend’s pissed. He'd like to say something to me and I'd like to see him try. This guy's an even bigger ass than I originally thought. I cannot understand what a heavenly creature like Mabel sees in a douche like him but he's not making up to her on my time. Office hours I own her. Not literally, not yet. But if he so much as makes one wrong move, I'm going to step up finally to claim her once and forever.

  “Just go, Sam,” Mabel snaps, like she means it and not because she's afraid for her job.

  “We aren't done here,” he says.

  “Yes, you are,” I growl and I mean it in more ways than one.

  Mabel is clearly not happy with that ass and I intend to take the opportunity to claim her before I lose her.

  The dickhead walks away toward reception and the public elevators.

  “Get your coat,” I tell Mabel, making her eyes widen as she looks at me with surprise. Like she thinks maybe I’m dismissing her. “I'm taking you home.”

  I'm amused to see her eyes stretch even further, thinking that's not the only part of her delicious body I'm going to be forcing wide open.

  “Oh no, Mr...Sir.” Her kitteny voice trails away as I turn to lock my office door, with my hand raised for silence. She knows better than to fight me.

  “I want to make sure you're safely home and don't strain that ankle any more.”

  “You're so kind,” she mewls.

  “Really I'm not.” I say – letting her know the truth.

  I won't be kind but I won't hurt her unless she wants me to.

  Chapter FIVE

  Mabel

  Mr Eglinton leads me to the elevator at the end of the hall like he has an invisible leash attached to a collar at my neck. He doesn't really of course but I feel like I've been marked as personal territory. But that isn’t possible.

  Is it?

  Mr Eglinton's never once bothered about me bringing any personal stuff into the office. The one time a friend asked me for help he told me; “Take all the time you need, Mabel. You take care of me five days a week the least I can do is allow you a life.”

  What just happened with Sam didn’t feel like it had anything to do with office hours. Darcy looked like he was ready to deck my ex. Like my boss emerged from his office to stake a claim on his property. Me.

  But God damn if he didn't look hot. Standing like a colossus behind Sam, with his arms bound over his strapping chest and expensive suit. So powerful and confident. He made Sam look like a cantankerous schoolboy. The bully who would never dare to touch me again.

  Darcy snaps open his phone on the way.

  “Crane, I'll drive tonight,” he orders someone on the other end. “Bring the Onyx around.”

  Crane, his chauffeur of course. What's wrong with me all of a sudden I'm not thinking clearly. Maybe because Darcy's driving me home in his new concept car. That isn't even available on the market yet. The sportscar with the beaten copper sides that cost more than a plane.

  Just me and him.

  Without Crane sitting up front. His eyes sliding to the rear view every minute or so. I've met Crane on rare occasions when I've ridden with Darcy to the airport, taking instruction as he heads for his plane to jet to Europe or the Far East. And then I've ridden back to the office, alone in the back seat, squirming as the chauffeur examined me.

  The elevator door slides back and Darcy puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me inside. A thousand electrical shivers run down my thighs. And once again I don’t know where to look as the car starts its descent.

  In the end I have no choice.

  “Look at me,” Darcy orders.

  He's towering over me, his chest a wall of steel there's no way round. My eyes are dragged up his solid expanse, over the silk knot, over the slightly stubbled but still carved jawline, his deliciously full lips, to his eyes burning up like a pair of cattle branders.

  His hands clamp either side of my face and his gaze holds me immovable in his grasp. I swallow and swallow again, harder. My breath coming so fast, my breasts are going up and down like a life support system on steroids. I part my lips slightly for more air, to stall my panting gasps and in an instant Darcy leans in the last inch and sucks my lower lip into his. Lights illuminate every corner of my body. Right as the door slides back, revealing the building concierge.

  “Mr Eglinton, Miss Trellis,” he says, standing to one side with his arm holding the car. And trying to suppress a smirk.

  Darcy releases me and again his hand sits on the small of my back to press me through the door. Then he strides out of the elevator with a brief nod at the concierge and leads me by the hand to the dark futuristic car waiting at the curb.

  Aside from the brief directions I have to give once we're across the bridge out of Manhattan, we ride in silence. The air in the small cockpit of the vehicle is solid with the tension between us.

  Did he mean to suck my lip into his? Was it a knee jerk reaction? What the hell is happening? All I know he tasted like coffee and danger. And my heart is galloping like a rodeo stampede.

  I point out my building and Darcy pulls up. He comes around to open the door but I've already unlatched it and am struggling to get out of the low slung car before he arrives. I can't bear him touching me again. I crave it with every fiber of my being but I don't think I can control my reactions if my boss puts one hand on me.

  This afternoon he brought me a doctor as well as lunch. That I couldn't eat because all my digestive juices had morphed into a different kind of liquid, that poured down my thighs every time he was in sight. Because I cant think straight or focus on work or do anything other than fantasize about Darcy Eglinton pinning me down and sliding all the way inside me.

  “You're a very independent woman, Mabel,” he barks when he sees me rise to standing by the door.

  “I've always taken care of myself,” I say, turning to shut the door except Darcy's blocking it.

  I gasp because he's right up in my space, so close there's barely a whisper of air separating us. I'm certain I can feel the heat coming off his body. I can definitely smell the aroma of his cologne which reads expensive and dusky and all man.

  My pussy clenches as I inhale him, the faint note of his own masculine odor chiming nicely with the after shave. I almost lean in to press my nose against the stubble starting to come in on his carved jaw, to breathe the intoxicating leathery male skin.

  “I – always -” for some reason it's nearly impossible to force my lips into the shape of words. “Had- to.”

  “Maybe you should let someone else take care of that now,” he says, husky and raw.

  “I -”

  My mouth finally gives up completely. Too busy craning forward to receive Darcy's lips. I can't withhold a shiver as he grips my arms making tremors slide all the way down to my fingers. This is insane. I'm standing here on the street with my boss, the billionaire hedge fund manager Darcy Eglinton and he's way up in my space, towering over me, his broad chest almost wrapping around mine. At least that's how it feels as he holds me gripped in his palms, his hot breath licking across my top lip.

  How will we deal with this tomorrow? When we come face to face in the office?

&
nbsp; I don't even care.

  Tomorrow seems a millennium away and all I want is this moment. To sink into his arms right now and have him take care of everything.

  “Yes?” he grits out.

  His voice low and almost animal. A tone I’ve never heard from him, even when he's snarling his way through a contentious deal.

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out aside from a couple of little panting breaths. I realize I'd forgotten to breathe and my body was starving.

  I slowly lift my eyes to his and our stares slam into each other. This is total craziness. The chemistry crashing between us like an untamed beast released from its cage and left to rampage around free at last. I'm sure I'm not imagining the heat coming off my boss, the hunger I can read just barely held back in his gaze. I know him too well to misread.

  Don't I?

  If he kisses me right now I'll be helpless to do anything but drag him up to my apartment and let him do whatever he wants with me. And I hope he won't be gentle. I want him to use me with all the brutal strength I feel emanating from his fingers gripping me.

  “Mabel, are you okay?”

  Shit.

  I completely forgot I texted Wen and asked her to drop by tonight with at minimum, three cases of cheap wine. She stands there clutching a bottle in a brown bag while her eyes flick back and forth between Darcy and I, a thousand questions not leaving her lips.

  Chapter SIX

  Darcy

  As I snap around to discover the interruption, I feel my face hardening. I'm about to tell the Chinese girl standing on the sidewalk with a confused stare to leave. To order her in the street the way I command everyone and every situation. But I reel it back in.

  “Wen, this is um, Mr Eglinton,” Mabel says and stutters through the rest of the introduction in an adorable manner.