I wanted to work, I just didn’t want to work for him.
My boss is a cocky jerk. He’s always staring and making comments about me. He’s always finding excuses to get close enough that it feels like he’s pressing right against me. And since I’m married all of it should just make my eyes roll, but I have to confess that it’s not.
When he looks at me like that it hits me in all the wrong ways. He makes my wedding ring feel heavy on my finger. He makes me think things that I shouldn’t think.
I know it’s wrong and it’s so bad it’s cliche. Bored married wife gets a job and falls for the new boss, it’s so obvious it shouldn’t happen. I should say no, should quit this job. I should complain, but it’s so hard to resist.
He makes me feel so dirty and I find that I love it. He makes me wonder whether maybe I made a mistake when I say I do. He lets me know what his expectations are, telling me and demanding just like a good boss should.
When he tells me to kneel, I say Yes Sir. When he tells me to open wide, I say Yes Sir. When he tells me what he’s going to do to me I shudder and I reply:
Yes Sir.
Because he’s my boss and that means he’s in charge.
Excerpt
“Fuck you,” I shot back at him, my voice suddenly filled with cold anger and not an ounce of amusement, “Don’t fucking treat me like that. Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Really?” Cade said bemusedly, and if there was any concern at all in him at my sudden turn of personality he didn’t show it, “You don’t want me to call you pretty?”
“You know that’s not what I fucking mean,” I snapped back, standing up as tall as I could get and knowing that I was still fell far short of even his chin.
His smile almost faltered, but I don’t know if he had it in him to stop grinning, “No swearing.”
“What?”
“No swearing,” he repeated, “This is a work environment and I expect my employees to be professional. Unprofessional conduct will be addressed.”
I rolled my eyes, balling my fist up and cocking my hip to one side, “Oh go fuck yourself, Cade.”
It was crazy for him to play this card. If we wanted to have a discussion about unprofessional conduct then we could start with the way he treated me during my interview and move from there to the way he’s treated me every day since. But this wasn’t about professional or unprofessional. That was a screen for whatever he wanted to play next and I knew I shouldn’t play it.
Not that I didn’t want to play it. Not that I didn’t crave it. Just that I shouldn’t.
I tried to step past him and his thick arm snapped out and blocked the path.
“That’s no way to talk to your boss,” he went on, but now the smile was gone, “Disobedient. Disobedience demands…”
“What?” I challenged him, “What does it demand?”
I know what I want him to say. I know what I need him to say. I know that word I want to hear from his lips.
Punishment.
Instead I get silence and movement from him. Instead his hands snap to my body and they press me back against the wall behind me. Instead he drags me up the wall until my lips are lined up with his and he pressed his lips into mine and holds my petite body still against his firm and hard form.
Instead of punishing me, Cade kisses me but maybe that’s a punishment of its own. Certainly the wedding ring on my finger burns when his tongue slips possessively into my mouth and certainly the betrayal settling in my heart stings as I let him hold me there and claim me.
And for an instant I think it might be over and done with. For an instant I think that I might be lost to him.
Then I find myself once more and I bite his bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood and Cade drops me in surprise and I stumble but I find my feet. My hand swings out automatically, open palm slapping against his cheek. Before I can do anything else I push past him and rush back into the store.
I leave him standing in the back because I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t cheat. I rush out past him because he pressed himself onto me and I didn’t ask for it.
I run. I run from him. I run from the back room.
Because if I stayed one moment longer I know I wouldn’t leave.