Occupational Hazard: The Ultimate Workplace Romance Box Set Read online

  A delightful fantasy, if he were the one in charge. But he wasn’t and Isabelle was the queen of tease, a fact he discovered when she abruptly let him go, hopped onto his desk, and spread her legs wide, exposing herself to him once again. Placing her heeled feet on either side of his thighs, she rolled his chair forward until he sat between her legs, inches away from her molten core. The smell of her arousal made his mouth water.

  “Do you want to make me happy?” she asked as she slid a finger into her dampness. He watched intently, his eyes riveted on her moist flesh.

  Grant could only nod. He’d reached the point he would do anything she asked.

  Leaning forward, she removed the gag that muffled him and grasped him by the hair. The painful tug only served to enhance his arousal, especially as she drew him closer, tilting his chair backward so that his lower body slid under the desk and his face came to rest between her thighs.

  “Lick me, Grant,” she whispered. “Make me come in your mouth.”

  Only too happy to satisfy part of his fantasy, he obliged, lapping his hot tongue over her sex, spreading her plump lips, and tasting her. She clamped her thighs around him tightly, holding his head in place. She dug her fingers into his scalp, and pulled his hair. His erection strained under the desk as he licked and sucked at her. She was so fucking gloriously responsive. He could tell she enjoyed it; her body gave it away as it drew taut. And she came with a soft cry, her sweet juices trickled into his mouth.

  Grant jabbed his tongue inside of her, wanting to feel the quiver of her muscles as she orgasmed. The eroticism of the moment made his cock spurt, and he gasped against her swollen flesh. Fuck me. I can’t believe I just came like that.

  Chapter Five

  Isabelle pushed Grant away, rolling his chair backward until it hit the wall behind him. He didn’t react. On the contrary, he appeared dazed and she noticed his cock was now only semi rigid, the signs of his release all over his pants.

  Smiling, just like the cat who’d gotten into the cream right after it ate the canary, she stood slowly, pleased to note she caught his attention. He eyed her hungrily. And his cock twitched.

  She grabbed her toys and grabbed her coat, all without speaking.

  It was only when she unlocked the door and opened it that he finally found his voice. “Where are you going?”

  Inwardly she smiled at the edge of panic threading his question. No longer did he sound like her commanding boss. And he’s not ignoring me now.

  Pivoting on a heel, she turned to him and lifted a brow in mock surprise. “Where am I going? Why, home, of course.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Isabelle tapped her lips in pretended thought. “Yes. I need to pick up milk on the way. Thanks for reminding me. See at work on Monday. Goodnight.”

  Blowing him a kiss, she walked out of his office, and the grin she’d hidden within burst free, a grin which widened as he bellowed behind her, ordering her to come back and release him.

  Sorry, Grant. But that’s not part of the plan. Speaking of which, part one of her plot to get his attention and her revenge had proven an unmitigated—and satisfying--success. I can’t wait until part two.

  Chapter Six

  On Monday, Grant arrived at the office early and paced its length waiting for Isabelle to arrive. Or at least he assumed she would show up. Would she have the guts to face him after what she’d done?

  Judging by the way she’d taken charge of the situation and him? He’d wager yes.

  Or was he wrong yet again about her. After all, she’d not behaved at all how he expected.

  Take the weekend for example. He’d tried calling her—over and over, alternately desperate, angry and eager--but she must have been screening her calls, because he got dumped into her voicemail each time. It briefly occurred to him that he could confront her at home, but he’d only seen where she lived once in the dark while drunk. In the light of day, when he’d driven by, the daunting row of townhouses all looked the same and he’d refused to pop by the office like a desperate lovesick swain to locate her address.

  He still bore mixed feelings about what she’d done to him on Friday. On a positive note, he’d finally managed to release himself from her duct tape bondage after much straining and rubbing against his desk. But not completely unscathed. The marks of his struggle as he fought to escape were hidden by his dress shirt’s long sleeves. Those physical marks were easy to hide. Others not.

  He hadn’t been able to conceal all the evidence of his erotic torture when he’d finally fled that night. His suit jacket hadn’t quite concealed the cum stains on his pant legs, an embarrassing fact the security guard downstairs had noticed, or so Grant surmised by his smirk.

  I still can’t believe she tied me up and used me as if I were some kind of sex toy—one that gives great tongue. Never mind that he’d enjoyed himself as well. Isabelle had called the shots that evening and he knew that had he not come on his own, she would have left him tied up and suffering with a massive erection. She was a cruel mistress. A selfish lover.

  So why was it he wanted to do it again?

  All weekend long, he’d fantasized about her. Dreamt of her taking charge, forcing him to her bidding. The experience she’d subjected him to had been nothing short of amazing. And now, having had a taste of her kinky, dominant side, his Internet porn pictures and videos paled in comparison. He needed the real thing. He needed Isabelle.

  Fuck me, I’m rock hard again.

  Unlike at home this weekend, he couldn’t just whack off, although for a second he debated locking his office door and doing so. Or maybe leaving the door unlocked and having her walk in as he did it. Grant almost came in his pants at the thought.

  Where in hell is she? Grant went to his office door and peered out for what had to be the hundredth time.

  As if his thoughts had finally deigned to conjure her, in she walked, appearing demure and unbelievably sexy in a simple flower print dress that emphasized her generous bosom and hourglass shape.

  Grant’s mouth went dry as his overactive brain imagined what she wore—or rather, what she didn’t—underneath her prim outfit.

  “Isabelle, could you come in here for a minute?” he asked in a quiet voice as he stood to the side of his door lest she see the tent in his pants.

  Her baby blue eyes met his, and she curved her lips in a little smile. “I’m sorry, Grant, but I’ve got a pile of work to do. Can this wait until later?”

  No. Because I’ve got a pressing problem right now. Really pressing. He wanted to argue with her, to force her to come into his office, but both of their phones rang before he could and, to his frustration, he found himself busy the rest of the morning.

  When the noon hour arrived, he decided to ask Isabelle out to lunch—for sustenance, not sex—unless she had other ideas. He was open to anything she might have in mind.

  However, she wasn’t at her desk when he emerged from his office.

  Damn it. She’s avoiding me. Kind of like he’d avoided her after they’d first had sex. Grant hated payback, especially when he was on the receiving end.

  But he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  Isabelle listened absently to the handsome fellow she’d snagged as a lunch date. She had no interest in him at all. He was just another tool in her arsenal. A part of her plot which was about to enter into phase two she realized as Grant strode into the café and made no bones about the fact he spied on her.

  Leaning forward and catching her date Derek—or was it Darren?—by surprise, she whispered in his ear, something so naughty his eyes widened. Then Isabelle flicked a glance at Grant, who watched, a thunderous look on his face.

  Jealousy. So hot.

  She curved her lips in a naughty smile and kept up the intimate talk and touches with her temporary pawn until Grant left the bistro tight lipped and stiff legged. With her audience gone, she abruptly stood, leaving Darren—or was it Derek?—confused.

  “Hey, where are you
going?” he called after her.

  Isabelle paid him no mind as she walked out of the bistro and headed for her nail salon. Her lunch companion had done his job and she no longer had a use for him. But her nails could use some work and she need to kill time. She needed to ensure she was gone from the office long enough to give Grant the wrong idea.

  With her tummy tingling, she fought to hold in the urge to giggle. She couldn’t wait to see the sparks fly when she got back.

  The longer Isabelle stayed out for lunch, the more Grant simmered. He’d already sneaked back to the bistro and seen that she and the other man—a man he longed to punch out—were no longer there. Had they gone off somewhere together? Was she even now letting that stranger touch her?

  No. She’s mine!

  Grant cursed and punched the wall in his office. The pain of impact had him sucking his knuckles, but it also helped him bring his anger and insane jealousy back under control. He didn’t understand his sudden possessiveness. He and Isabelle weren’t an item or a couple. Yet. Judging by his volatile emotions where she was concerned that would have to change because all he knew was that he wanted to be the only one she touched and aroused.

  He also didn’t want to share her, but she obviously didn’t feel the same way. When she sauntered in almost an hour later with a smile on her face and freshly coiffed hair, Grant glowered. He hated not being in control, even if the situation perversely excited him.

  “Whatever is wrong?” she asked when she deigned to finally attend him in his office. Her face was all smiles and sunshine.

  “How was your lunch?” he snapped, unable to stem the insane jealousy that consumed him.

  Isabelle’s lips curved in a sensual smile that made him, even in his anger, go rock hard.

  “Delicious,” she said with a purr.

  Grant growled in response. He had no right to feel jealous, because he’d been the one to ignore her the week before. But damn it, he regretted that now.

  “Listen, Isabelle about what happened …”

  “Don’t worry, Grant. I understand perfectly. You don’t want to be with me, and I’m sorry about what I did to you on Friday. It was terribly naughty of me. I promise it won’t ever happen again.”

  Before he could reply, with a wiggle of her heart shaped ass, she left, closing his door behind her and leaving Grant despondent.

  How could he make her understand that he wanted things to change? That he yearned for her to take charge of him again?

  How to make her understand that I don’t care if I lose my job? I’ll find another. But she … she is one of a kind. And I must have her.

  Chapter Seven

  Isabelle sat at her desk and smiled. She’d seen the confusion on Grant’s face—and the desire, as well. However, he hadn’t quite reached the point of needing her more than he needed air to breathe. But he’s close.

  Her plan was moving along perfectly. Actually, she’d almost completed the first phase—the conquering of her boss. Soon Grant, a commanding male in public, would be groveling at her feet. She couldn’t wait to hear him beg. Just the thought of him being on his knees, ready to indulge her every whim, dampened the crotch of her panties.

  With a quick peek to see that no one was coming, she slipped off her wet panties and stuffed them into the top drawer of her desk on top of her Rolodex.

  One quick phone call later, she’d set the next part of her operation in motion. Fighting hard not to giggle—and squeezing her thighs tight as excitement swept her—she gathered her coat and purse and ducked out of the office early.

  Her next destination? Home, where she needed to get ready for the night’s upcoming adventure.

  A firm knock at his door made Grant frown. That didn’t sound like Isabelle. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and a freckled faced intern peeked in. “Excuse me, sir, but I’ve got an urgent package for Ms. Isabelle Garret, but she doesn’t seem to be at her desk.”

  Grant glanced at the clock. Still a few minutes shy of quitting time. He got up and walked into the vestibule “Is her coat gone?”

  The boy shrugged.

  Grant took a look around and noticed that the coat tree now held only his jacket, and that Isabelle’s computer screen showed a bouncing Window’s icon. She left early without saying a word to me?

  “Just leave the package on her desk. She’ll see it in the morning.”

  “Oh no, sir.” The intern shook his head. “I was told to give this to Ms. Garret today.”

  “I see.” A thought popped into Grant’s head and refused to leave. “Why don’t you give it to me? I have to go out her way anyhow, and I’ll make sure she gets it tonight.” The lie slipped smoothly from his lips.

  The freckled faced young man didn’t catch the lie or care. With another shrug and a brief thank you, he handed over the package and left.

  Now to find Isabelle’s address. Grant pulled open the top drawer of her desk where he’d seen her hide the Rolodex. He paused and with a hooked finger, pulled out a skimpy scrap of lace. Isabelle’s underwear.

  Unable to resist, he brought the panties to his face and inhaled. Her sweet scent surrounded him, and the dampness of her juices wet his lips.

  Suddenly more randy than a teenager watching his first porn video, Grant walked back into his office and locked the door. If he didn’t want to embarrass himself with Isabelle, he should take care of his erection issue before he reached her place.

  Unzipping his slacks, he pushed them down, sat in his chair, and pulled out his hard cock. Wrapping the soft, scented panties around his shaft, he stroked himself. He closed his eyes and put his head back, breathing deeply of her scent, which seemed to permeate the air. The tiny piece of fabric, with its hint of moisture, teased him because he knew it had caressed her body, intimately so. He stroked himself, visualizing her perfect pink pussy, remembering how she’d tasted when she’d come on his tongue.

  Stifling a shout, Grant shot his load into her panties, his cock pulsing.

  Damn. Even absent, she packed a potent sexual punch.

  After redressing, he scribbled her address on a sheet of paper and exited the office, the soiled panties tucked into his pocket and the package under his arm.

  Tonight, he’d make Isabelle see they were meant for each other. But first, he needed a quick shower and a shave.

  He wanted to be at his best when he tried to convince her.

  Isabelle answered the door in a short silky robe that gaped to reveal the curved swell of her breasts. Grant bit back a groan and restrained an urge to sweep her into his arms and devour her. Or how about dropping to my knees and sliding my face between the folds of her robe to nuzzle that sweet pussy?

  She seemed surprised to see him, but let him into her front hallway.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms under her tits, which only pushed them together more temptingly instead of hiding them.

  “Delivering a package.” He handed it over. And I’ve got a bigger package for you between my legs. Grant couldn’t seem to stop the dirty thoughts from running mental images in his head. This couldn’t go on. He had to make her see how much he needed her. How much he wanted her.

  “Thanks for bringing it. Bye.” She turned and walked away, heading off into the recesses of her townhome.

  “Isabelle, wait,” he cried, following her.

  She whirled, her eyes flashing. “What do you want from me?”

  “You,” he said. “Only you.”

  “I find that hard to believe, or did you think I’d forget how you treated me?”

  The coldness in her tone gave him pause. Perhaps he’d made a mistake and he should leave. The thought of never touching her again held him in place, however, and gave him the courage to try again. “Listen, can’t we start over? I made a mistake. I see that now. I want to be with you. What can I do to prove that?”

  “Would you do anything?” With a crooked smile, she walked back toward him, hips undulating, the edges of her robe
flapping open, displaying the fact she wore nothing underneath. She peered at him expectantly with one arched brow.

  His mouth went dry, and he whispered, “Anything,”

  “Be careful what you promise.”

  “Tell me what I have to do to prove myself to you.” He would do anything just to touch her again—or, even better, to have her touch him. “Please, Isabelle.”

  “Will you let me do whatever I want? Will you let me punish you again and use you in whatever way I see fit?”

  “Yes.” Grant shuddered at her words. Quick flashes of the images he’d saved on his hard drive at home ran through his mind. Could he be so lucky? “I will do anything you command …”

  She smiled and tapped one foot as if waiting for something.

  Grant’s thoughts spun, what else did she need? He’d told her she could order him to do whatever she wanted. Wait. Was that the clue? An erotic red light went off as the one word he’d longed to say since he’d first seen her dressed in dominatrix gear rose to his tongue. “Mistress.”

  She beamed. He’d guess right!

  “Come with me then, my pet.” She turned and strode away, her round ass swinging beneath her satiny robe.

  Already hard and shaking from the promise he’d seen in her smile, Grant followed eagerly behind her as she led him into her bedroom, a room he vaguely recalled from the Saturday he’d drunkenly seduced her. Or had it been the other way around? Perhaps she’d seduced him instead.

  “Strip and wait for me,” she ordered. Then she left the room.

  Grant quickly complied, shucking his clothes and piling them on her dresser until he stood naked and erect. Anticipation thrummed through him.

  Her voice drifted to him from the next room. “Lie on the bed on your stomach, with your arms and legs spread.”