Money Shot (85 page)

He reduces the distance between us even more, coming so close that I can feel the warmth of his body. And his scent. He smells so good.

“Yes you like it? Or yes you want to be my submissive?”

“Both, Sir.” I obediently reply, even though I never thought about the idea of becoming his submissive in its entirety. I just know I want more. 

But I certainly like the idea of belonging to someone. To him.

“I am glad to hear that,” he whispers. “You know, I would like to kiss you. You look adorable today, shining brighter than ever. I wonder why that is.”

“I had an exciting evening—and a good rest,” I reply. 

I look up at him with the same yearning I have shown him last night. Longing for a kiss, an embrace, his hands on me.

“You did leave me hanging, though,” I dare to add. “I wanted more. More of you.”

He nods and gives me a faint peck on the forehead.

“I know you did,” he says. “And so did I. But I am still your boss. What we did was risky and inappropriate enough as it is. And I don’t want to confuse you.”

“Confuse me?” I ask.

He smiles down at me, gently stroking my left cheek with the tip of his finger. “You are so adorable, so delicate. I want to do unspeakable things to you. All these months—it wasn’t easy. I tried so hard to dismiss these misplaced thoughts.”

“You won’t have to much longer,” I breathe. “You will only be my boss for another few hours. After that—who cares?”

He smiles. “Yes. That’s true. But still... ”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze alternating between my eyes and the pendant at my neck.

“What?” I press.

“I don’t know if I would feel comfortable doing this,” he finally explains. “You have been our intern, and you’re so much younger than me. It is highly unprofessional and new to me. To feel this drawn to someone like you, wanting to do things to you I have done to other women before.”

I gulp. He sounds almost sad, so helpless. I can feel he wants me just as much as I want him. But something is scaring him.

“I understand,” I breathe. “But you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone. It could put me in a bad light just as much as you.”

“I trust you,” he replies. “But I don’t want to hurt you by feeding false hopes.”

“False hopes?” I ask.

“You see, I am not looking for anything. Not a relationship. Not even a play partner,” he says. “I have a tendency to withdraw myself from anyone I have been with after only one time playing. I’m afraid I might do the same to you.”

I look up at him. “If you trust me—why be afraid?”

“I don’t think you understand,” he says. “My emotional setup is not made for anything long term. For romance—or anything that comes even close to it. Usually, all I crave is that one explosive night, that one encounter. One night of liberating play. And then I am done.”

I smile at him. “Well, we already had that night, though. Didn’t we?”

He returns my smile and shakes his head. “No, little girl. That was just us testing the water.”

I smirk at him. Whatever his reasons, all I hear is that he is open for a onetime thing. For one explosive night, as he calls it.

I am all for that. I’d much rather have him only once than never.

“Look,” I say. “I may be young. But not stupid. I am not looking for a husband or anything. Why do you think a onetime couldn’t be the best thing for me as well? Maybe that is just what I need right now.”

He frowns. “Are you sure?”

“You’re my ex-boss,” I jokingly say. “Don’t you think it would be a little troublesome for me to have you in my life like this in the near future?”

He raises his eyebrows and appears to be impressed. Or offended, I could read both into the expression he is displaying.

“Well, alright young lady. We appear to be on the same page, even more than I thought,” he says eventually.

“Yes, Sir. I assure you we are.”

I lean forward, hoping to finally get that kiss I have been craving since we said goodbye last night, but he puts his hands on my shoulders, keeping me at distance.

“No,” he says, decisively. “Not now, and certainly not here again. I want to do this properly.”

I sigh with disappointment. One little kiss can’t hurt after all...

“Are you free tonight?” He asks.

I smile at him, as my heart bounces with excitement. But then I remember that I am to go out with Beth tonight. And canceling on her to play with the boss does not seem like an attractive option.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I have plans with Beth tonight.”

“My own employees getting in the way of me having fun,” he goes. “Nothing but trouble, that bunch.”

“How about tomorrow?” I ask. “It would be nice to have something to look forward to before I have to face an intensified version of job hunting come next week.”

“Hey,” he warns, jokingly raising his index finger. “Don’t make me feel bad for not being able to hire you right away.”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, kid,” he interrupts me. He tenderly pinches my left cheek and laughs at my confused smile that follows.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t worry about you,” he says. “You are good. You want this. And you will have a great reference that proves what a good girl you are.”

I look up at him, skeptically furrowing my eyebrows. “I hope that reference has been written before last night?”

He laughs. “Yes, of course it was. You silly thing.”

He lets go of me and walks towards his desk.

“So, tomorrow. Let’s make that our night,” he says, as he sits down in his chair. “At seven? I will pick you up.”

“You don’t have to do that!” I try to protest. But of course he won’t let me.

He nonchalantly raises his hand to signal that he won’t have any of that.

“I want to,” he says. “You have no say in this.”

I gulp, a little startled. But at the same time, it is this exact demeanor that makes me so attracted to him.

He looks up at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “You understand?”

I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

Chapter Four

So, here I am. On a date with my—now former—boss. As can be expected on a date with a Dominant, he did voice a few requests for our meeting. The first was for me to not drink too much the night before, when I was out with Beth. That one was easy for me to follow, as I never drink excessively anymore. I have stopped doing that when I was still an undergraduate at college.

The second request is concerning the way I would dress for the night.

“Don’t worry too much,” he has said. “You won’t wear your clothes for long anyways. But I would love for you to wear a dress or a skirt—and no tights. Stockings are more than welcome, though.”

I know that most women would freak at the notion of a man telling them what to wear—and more so, to wear stockings—on their first real date. It is this knowledge that causes me to find myself in constant battles when I agree to follow orders such as these so early on. Should I not? Am I too compliant if I do as he tells me to—on our first date?

Then again. It is most likely our last date as well. Why not pour everything I have into it? Truly make it count.

And I remember the night in his office. His skillful hands, that unseen body I want to explore, the promise for so much more, everything I love. The sheer pleasure these things give me. And I cannot deny my body’s reaction. I chose a rather short, black evening dress and black silk stockings for the night—and I am already wet just getting dressed for him. The thought of him realizing that I have complied, that I want to be a good girl for him. And the reward I would receive…

He does indeed pick me up from my place, but not the way I expected him to. The car that he invites me to get in to I is actually a black limousine. And he is not driving himself, but has a chauffeur who takes care of that.

I am startled, to say the least.

“Nice ride,” I comment as we take our seats in the back of the car.

The driver starts the engine right after I enter the car. He is secluded from us by a dark glass wall that seems to be rather sound proof.

Or so I hope during the conversation that follows.

Mr. Cooper smiles at me and reaches forward to a mini bar, producing a bottle of champagne and two small glasses. Damn!

“I thought we might as well do this right,” he says. “Besides, I am just taking the chance to congratulate you on finishing your internship once again.”

“I have had so many glasses—and mugs—to honor that. Will it ever end?” I joke.

He laughs. “Just wait until you land a job—which will be soon, I am sure. We’re just practicing for that celebration.”

He hands me both glasses and starts to work on opening the bottle. Unlike me, he knows how to do this very well and does not release a fountain of champagne, wasting half of the drink and ruining the leather as I probably would have. The cork is safely freed into his hand and he doesn’t even spill one drop as he pours the exquisite drink in our glasses.

“To you, young lady!” He festively exclaims as he raises his glass to me. “One of the best interns our agency has ever seen.”

I sheepishly smile and clink glasses with him. The champagne is delicious, far better than anything I have ever tasted. Then again, it is probably not among the lower rows in the supermarket, where I would usually buy my drink of choice.

“So, are you ready to be my little fuck toy tonight?” He nonchalantly asks after taking the first nip.

I almost spit out my drink, surprised to hear such an overly direct remark from him.

“Mr. Cooper…” I whisper, blushing and grinning like a little girl. I have no idea why, but it is exactly things like these that cause me to feel so drawn to men like him. Dominant men who know what they want and who are not afraid to verbal about it. Men who say inappropriate things that normal people wouldn’t say out loud in a situation like this, but yet remain polite and respectful while they do it. Not an easy balance, and a combination that is rare.

“Isn’t that why you are here?” He adds. “To please me? Serve me? Be mine for the night and get used in ways most girls don’t even dare to dream about? To be my little slut?”

His eyes are on me, carefully observing my reaction. He knows he can only say these things, because I want him to. Because it triggers a switch in me that makes me shift in my seat and fiddle with my hands, unsure what to do. Intimidated and aroused, just by his words—and the way he looks at me.