Office Toy 2 Client Satisfaction (2 page)

His spanking increased in intensity, and Elle shuddered, repressing a whimper. Cunningham wanted her to bear his punishment quietly. She dug her fingers into the carpet and tilted her hips, presenting her ass for him, bravely meeting each of his stinging blows. With Cunningham behind her, she had to imagine the light sweat on his temples as his eyes gleamed in a dark sexual excitement. He had the body of a Greek statue, pure bronze hardness overlaid on the frame of an Olympian. All that power, all his focus on making sure that the ruler hit her hard enough, but never did he cross the line. Damn, she was so close … it wasn't pain that made her wriggle, it was the impending orgasm building in her core.

Cunningham abruptly stopped the spanking. Elle waited, knowing he was studying her reddened ass. He balanced the ruler across her lower back. "Don't let it fall off," he said, his voice just a shade breathless.

Elle braced herself, anticipating Cunningham's fingers thrusting inside of her clenching, dripping sex. But instead he stood, shoving the chair back so roughly that it hit the wall. His footsteps moved away. Oh, if only she could see his face! But she didn't dare turn and risk the ruler falling onto the floor.

A moment later he returned. To Elle's disappointment, he removed the ruler from her back and tossed it on the desk. "Stand."

She jumped up, anxious to show that she'd learned her lesson, and Cunningham threw his head back and laughed. It was so human, so spontaneous … maybe a glimpse of how he might be outside the office. Maybe he wasn't always so stern, and that was even hotter, knowing that if they were out together, any moment he might aggressively reassert his dominance over her, might make her suck off Jonathan while he and Nolan fucked her pussy and ass raw, all the while telling her what a good job she was doing. Elle bit back a whimper.

Cunningham set a jewelry box on the desk. "Come here," he said. He sat and patted his leg.

She lowered her stinging butt to his knee and balanced as well as she could.
 

"You're not going to break me." Cunningham grabbed her hips and pulled her weight onto him. His silky pants caressed her inflamed skin. She knew better than to grind her pussy into his erection, but she wanted to … just a few seconds and she'd have the release she so desperately needed.
 

"Elle. Pay attention." He brought his arms around her to open the box, and Elle froze, afraid to breathe. Despite all the fucking, this was the most intimate moment they had shared, her on his lap, cradled against his broad chest. Cunningham lifted away the box lid to reveal two small silvery starbursts, then looked at her. His dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Right. Pay attention. Act normal. Elle raised her eyebrows. She couldn't imagine what they were for.

Cunningham cupped one of her breasts. "Variable tension nipple shields." He rubbed his palm over her nipple. Her flesh firmed immediately under his touch, and he slipped the shield on and tugged at it, then tightened it. "Comfortable?"

"Kind of." It squeezed her lightly. Not painful, at least, not yet.

Cunningham applied the second shield. Her hardened nipples now poked through the metal starbursts. She liked how the shields dug slightly into her skin. They looked a lot scarier than they felt.

Cunningham leaned back, and Elle immediately missed the solid heat of him. "Walk to the door and back."

With a well-contained sigh, Elle rose and headed to the door with purpose.

"Slower."

She nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
 

"Slower."

She slowed even more. It wasn't easy to do gracefully, putting one foot in front of the other so deliberately that she had to fight to keep her balance. When she reached the door, she turned and slowly began retracing her steps. Cunningham watched her thoughtfully. Unfortunately, he had put away his cock when she wasn't looking. So much for him finally taking her pussy when they were alone. Well, maybe after dinner.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, obviously muscular even in the suit. His eyebrows were gathered over his dark eyes.

"Stop there."

Elle stood, waiting. She hoped he liked what he saw, but with Cunningham it was impossible to know. Eventually he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another box. "Pull your panties down a few inches, but not all the way."

Elle teased her panties down until they were mid-thigh, the elastic gently squeezing her soft skin. When she glanced down, she noticed that the fabric that had cradled her pussy was shiny wet. If he fucked her now, he'd just glide right into her satiny entrance. She looked up, willing him to
please
, finally fuck her. To take her alone and to see that she was as turned on by just him as she was by all three of her lovers together.

He rose and slowly approached, and Elle tried not to fidget, wondering what was in the box. A clit shield, maybe? She'd never heard of such a thing.
 

When he stopped in front of her, she had to tilt her head back to see him, he was so large. He pressed his hand against her pussy, stroking his finger over her clit. Elle moaned and fought to keep her balance. She wanted to grab onto him, pull him closer, but she knew better.

Just before she reached the point of no return, Cunningham stopped. He could get her off in his sleep—it was like he'd been studying her the first few times. Knowing him, he probably had. He pushed something against her pussy, and he held it there, covered in his hand. His dark eyes bore into hers, and Elle had to fight not to beg him to fuck her. There was something about being the object of his attention that undid her every time. She trembled, afraid he could see how badly she wanted him—and suspecting that he'd already seen it and didn't care. Nolan had warned her that women always fell for Cunningham, and Elle had sworn to herself that she wouldn't be like the others. But here she was, hoping the rules didn't apply to her, that fate would deal her a better hand …

"Pull up your panties."

Elle hastened to comply, and when Cunningham removed his hand, the cool, foreign thing remained pressed against her wet folds, from just above her clit all the way down to her entrance. Elle shifted, and the back part of the object intruded ever so slightly into her slick hole. Cunningham pulled her close so that his erection pressed against her lower stomach, then he slid a hand between their bodies. He pressed on the object in her panties, and it dipped a little deeper into her. "This is what you'll be wearing to dinner tonight." He strode to the elegant, free-standing wood closet and pulled out a short, black dress on a hanger. "And this."

A flush of excitement rose in Elle's cheeks and spread across her face. She dipped her head, hoping that Cunningham hadn't noticed. When she unzipped the dress and pulled it off the hanger, her hands shook. This was it. Her. Out with Cunningham. "Where are we going?"

"
You
are going to meet a client. Turn."
 

Elle froze.

"Turn," Cunningham said in that tone of voice that meant he was losing patience.

Elle pivoted quickly before he could see the look of misery on her face. He zipped up the back of the dress and adjusted its thin straps on her shoulders. The tender gesture had Elle blinking back unexpected tears.
 

This was Nolan's doing. He'd talked Cunningham out of going with her. She was going to kill the rotten, meddling bastard—
 

"There's a car waiting for you downstairs. One more thing—" He took the second box, snapped it shut and held it out. "Give this to the client, and no looking inside."

Elle stared dumbly at the box. Was he really going to send her off alone with a stranger?

"Elle!"

"Yes. I understand." When she looked at him, his expression was hard and shut off. He'd seen it. Her disappointment. The hope dying in her eyes. He knew how she felt, that it wasn't just sexual exploration for her.

He knew she was falling in love.

She was so screwed.

The client wasn't in the car. Elle gripped the box, her knuckles white. She was having a difficult time breathing, and a whole new set of worries crowded her mind. How was she supposed to recognize the client? Was it one person or more than one? And what was she expected to do? She just wasn't ready to handle something like this alone. For the first time ever, a sliver of doubt about Cunningham's judgement appeared. Suppose it was a bad situation and she needed to get away …? Yet she didn't remove the thing that Cunningham had nestled against her pussy. No, she trusted him. She had to.

The car pulled up in front of a luxury hotel, and a portly, mustached doorman opened the door. "Miss Girdley?"

Elle nodded, surprised to be recognized. "I'm not sure where I'm going."

"The Overlook. It's the restaurant on the top of the building. The hostess will handle everything." He helped her out of the car. "Enjoy your evening, Miss." The smile accompanying his words seemed innocent enough. It should have relaxed her. Cunningham was nothing if not discreet—she knew that already. But it didn't mean the evening would be a chaste one for her.

She presented herself to the hostess and was ushered to a table in the middle of the restaurant. With every step she worried that the thing in her panties would tumble onto the floor, so she took small steps, feeling silly.

A man in his early thirties with thick, prematurely graying hair rose to greet her. "Elle. I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Karl Mains." His warm green eyes shone with intelligence. Elle couldn't stop her gaze from wandering down his lithe body. She guessed he was a tennis player, or a swimmer. The kind of man who made time to exercise every day. She immediately handed him the box, which he placed to the side of his menu.

Only when she was seated did she notice that the table was set for four.

"They should be along any minute," Karl said as he noticed her confusion. He signaled for a waiter. "What kind of wine do you prefer?"

"Um …" Elle's mind whirled. She didn't know anything about that sort of thing. The only wine she'd ever tasted that cost more than a few dollars had been at a friend's wedding, and she didn't even know what it was called. She picked up the wine menu and looked down the list of names she couldn't begin to pronounce. Damn, she didn't belong here. Then she remembered what Cunningham had said at her interview, that she needed to project confidence. She had to trust that he wouldn't put her into a situation she couldn't handle. "Why don't you choose? I'm in the mood to try something new." She raised one of her shoulders in a shrug as she smiled.
 

"Sure." Karl nodded and a server rushed over. After the server left, Elle frantically tried to think of something interesting to talk about. Unfortunately, all she could think of was Cunningham and how he had reacted when he saw her disappointment. She was a fool for thinking she was different, and if she wanted to keep her job, she needed to get a fucking grip on herself. Elle bit down hard on her lip.

"And here is Gustav."

Elle turned to see a distinguished and well-dressed man in his mid-forties walking toward the table. His gaze swept over the room, his head high. He exuded confidence. While he was attractive, he wasn't really her type, but there was no doubt in her mind that this man was dominant. An alpha male, just like Cunningham. And her pussy, traitorous thing, quivered. If Cunningham wanted her to submit to these men, at least she wouldn't have to fake it.

The newcomer ordered a waiter to remove the other place setting before he even took his seat. "It's just the three of us," he said. He had an accent, definitely European, but Elle couldn't place it. Hell, she'd never talked to someone with an accent apart from the guy who answered the phone at her local Chinese takeout restaurant.

"Gustav Black." He took her hand in his and brushed his lips against it. "You are delightful," he said. "So innocent looking," he murmured so that only she could hear.

Elle's eyes went wide, and her heart sped up. He knew what she was. She tried to calm herself. So what if he did? She wasn't just willing to submit, she
wanted
to. Needed to bury the memory of Cunningham … and what a fun way to do it.

To hide her smile, she sipped the white wine that Karl had chosen.

Gustav shifted gears and began talking about a tissue ad campaign. The men led the conversation, often asking Elle to explain why she thought a particular ad did or didn't work. Karl used his tablet to show her posters. Elle recognized some of them as being from her office.
 

"Enough work talk," Gustav said abruptly.

Karl nodded and stowed his tablet. Elle had the impression he was a bit of a workaholic. The waiter uncorked another bottle of wine, and Elle blinked. Had they finished one already? The appetizers hadn't even arrived yet. She set down her almost-empty glass.

"The remote, please," Gustav said, and Karl slid Cunningham's mystery box across the white tablecloth. Elle watched as Gustav pulled off the top, took out a small, oblong thing and tossed the box to the side as if he were in a dive and not one of the nicest restaurants in the country. He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Elle, we're going to play a game. I'm going to ask you a question, and you'll answer it."

"Ok," Elle said. She didn't see how that was a game. She picked up her glass. "Sure."
 

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Elle almost choked on her wine. "I … um … not really. No."
 

Karl laughed and tilted toward her. "That must be difficult."

With a smile, Gustav also leaned toward her. "What do you do to get off? When your pussy needs company?" Even though his accent softened the direct words, Elle still blushed a thousand shades of red.

"I … um …" She stared at her napkin.

"Maybe this can help get you in the right frame of mind," Gustav said. His fingers closed on the oblong object that Cunningham had sent, and a vibration roared to life between Elle's legs, stimulating her clit, her lips, and the first inch of her quivering entrance.