The Fighter's Secretary(6)

By: Ann Mayburn



Dallas shifted next to her and she swallowed hard. He smelled so damn good. It wasn’t any cologne he wore, but the scent he gave off when he worked out. The potent blend of pheromones always sent her body into heat for him, and it had only gotten worse after she’d masturbated in his office. God, as if he wasn’t a temptation already, to find those nipple clamps in his drawer had sent her over the edge. Of course he could have just had them there to play with, something pretty for one of his endless parade of gorgeous women to wear, but she somehow knew it was more than that. Dallas was about as dominant as they came and the hidden, submissive side of her nature cried out in longing to kneel at his feet.

An image of doing just that, clad only in those beautiful nipple clamps, flashed through her mind and she imagined nuzzling her face against the crease where his balls met his leg and drowning in his scent while he gripped her hair hard enough to hurt.

“Amanda?”

Startled, she glanced up and found he now stood right next to her, his abdominals within licking distance. “What?”

His full lips, marred here and there with small scars from his time spent as a professional fighter, curved into a grin. “You seem distracted.”

Trying to ignore the flush no doubt making her pale cheeks red, she returned her attention to the screen. “Here are the designs you asked for.”

To her horror, and delight, he placed one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk, leaning forward so that he was effectively caging her with his body. His scent overwhelmed her and she moved her hands off the keyboard then hid them beneath the desk, hoping he didn’t notice how they trembled. He was close enough that his heat bathed her and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to relieve the never-ending ache he started in her body.

For what seemed like hours he stared at the screen, then looked down at her. “What do you think?”

“Of what?”

His deep chuckle made her whole body tingle. “You seem distracted today, carina.”

Flushing, she tried to keep her pleasure at being called his “sweetheart” off her face. He’d been doing that a lot, probably because he liked making her blush. He must find her reaction to him funny. Bastard. “Sorry, I was up late last night working.”

Immediately he straightened, then crouched next to her. To her shock he turned her chair until he was kneeling almost between her legs. His hard chest pressed against her knees and sent her hormones into a frenzy. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass to work for. I didn’t realize how many hours of overtime you’re putting in.”

She shrugged, trying to ease back as much as she could from him in her chair without being obvious. He didn’t need to know how deeply his mere presence affected her. “It’s all part of the job.”

Shaking his head, he frowned, then reached up and ever so lightly traced his fingers along her chin. “A beautiful woman like you has better things to do with her evening than clean up my messes.”

She froze beneath his feather-light touch, her breath coming in short pants as if he were stroking something much more intimate than her jaw. While he always flirted with her, he’d never been this brazen about it before. His gaze darkened and he stared into her eyes, refusing to let her look away, holding her in place with his dominance as he continued to trace along her jaw until he reached her chin. Her pussy pulsed to the beat of her heart and she almost moaned when he brushed his rough thumb over her lower lip. The need to draw his thumb into her mouth, to suck on it, to nibble at the tip and taste him tempted her to the point where she parted her lips and a needy little whimper escaped.

“Good girl,” he murmured and she jerked back, his words a splash of cold water in her face.

With a clumsy, abrupt move she shoved away from him, almost falling as her shaking legs refused to hold her. “Don’t touch me.”

He remained crouching, then tilted his head to the side and examined her. “Why? You obviously like my touch.”

“You’re my boss,” she hissed and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping he couldn’t see how hard her nipples were.

“Good point.” He stood and motioned to her. “Come on.”

Confused, she followed him across the doors leading to the men’s locker room. “I can’t go in there.”

“Why not? We’re alone.”

“Because…because. It’s not proper.”

He laughed, the bastard and opened the door. “Calm down. I won’t ravage you. I just want you to sit on the other side of the lockers while I shower so we can talk.”

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