Authors: Jennifer Simms
The Bishop Affair
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2013
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Warning: This work contains scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.
Table of Contents
I dropped the keys twice before I could stop shaking long enough to unlock my apartment door. Clasping my hands together, I tried to will the trembling away, but I couldn’t figure out which of the several clashing emotions to rein in. Just when I thought I was going to be angry about everything, I got turned on. When I decided the whole incident was the kinkiest thing that’s ever happened to me, I felt guilty and excited at the same time. All of it stressed me out. But what could I expect? I had just bent over a desk in my boss’s office and let him spank my ass—all on my second day at my new job.
Slamming the front door shut, I tossed the keys on the table and shouldered my bedroom door open. I dropped my tote on the bed and fell next to it, rolling over and burying my face in the bedspread. The bag smelled of coffee and Trevor’s aftershave. Before I boarded the bus for home, I had dropped his soiled shirt and vest off at the dry cleaner on the corner across from the office. I vaguely remembered staggering in, my butt still stinging from the slaps, pulling the clothes from my tote, and handing them to the attendant. I hoped I could remember which dry cleaner it was tomorrow—there were several conveniently located in the area, as if they made a booming business from clumsy personal assistants making their bosses spill coffee on themselves.
I flushed, embarrassed and upset. If only I had paid attention to where I was going, I wouldn’t even be in this mess. Or maybe if Trevor wasn’t so cruelly sexy. Visions of his bare torso danced in my head, the sword tattoo glinting surreally. Maybe I should’ve just rubbed the shirt’s coffee stains out using those washboard abs of his. The thought of touching the sculpture of his stomach made me shudder.
I shook my head vigorously, as if I could dislodge the images of him gloriously shirtless.
I felt backed into a corner. Probing my feelings, I realized that I desperately needed someone’s advice on this. But who could I tell? Certainly not Susan. She was too close to the situation. I could practically imagine her face if I ever let slip that Trevor bent me across his desk and spanked me. Her eyebrows would probably disappear into her hairline.
And God forbid my mother find out.
If the shocking sexuality didn’t kill her, she’d only say “I told you so” before driving into the city to scoop me up and take me back to Binghamton. My mother was forever warning me that I’d get taken advantage of in New York City. Had it just happened?
I would have said yes—if I hadn’t enjoyed it so thoroughly.
Despite myself, I lifted my head and smelled the interior of my tote again. Closing my eyes closed, I was transported back to the office. I envisioned Trevor standing entirely too close to me, his delicious muscles near enough to touch, to rub, to kiss, to lick the length of the sword on his chest and hope I didn’t get cut…
A sudden ache between my thighs had me squeezing my legs together to stifle the sensation. For a moment, I considered relieving my stress with a quick, self-indulgent session. But I was troubled that the most erotic scene on my mind was Trevor spanking me. It had been, without a doubt, the most humiliating experience I’d ever experienced—even worse than that time my mother walked in on Eric and me in my bedroom. So why was my body reacting this way?
My fingers began creeping beneath my skirt but before I could get started, a knock against the door pulled my attention.
“Lori? Are you okay?” I groaned softly, pressing my face deep into my soft mattress. I’d forgotten that my roommate had the day off. I’d probably scared her the way I banged into the apartment. “Can I come in?” she asked. “You sound upset.”
“Come in,” I replied, not bothering to sit up or otherwise move from my position of despair, facedown on the bed.
The door opened and I heard Sam cluck lightly. “Rough day?” She moved my tote to the floor and plopped in bed next to me. I felt a little bit of relief that I didn’t have to smell Trevor’s fragrance anymore, but was no less aroused by its lingering presence.
“I don’t even know what to think about it.” My voice was muffled by the bedspread.
“Try me.” The bed bounced as she shifted forward. She removed the pumps I hadn’t bothered to take off and two dull thumps told me she’d tossed them across the room into my tiny closet.
Heaving a sigh, I rolled onto my back and flung an arm across my eyes. I couldn’t even bear to look my roommate in her eyes.
“I really shouldn’t tell you. I signed a non-disclosure agreement today.” I wondered if the agreement had a clause specifically forbidding venting to your roommate about being spanked by your lethally sexy boss. It probably had a sentence or two, with my luck.
“Lori, you can always tell me anything.” Her hand gently rubbing my shoulder felt reassuring. “You know you can trust me. Who would I tell, anyway?”
“ ‘No one’ better be the answer to that one,” I replied dryly.
She snorted and I uncovered my eyes to better gauge her reactions to my situation. She looked concerned — her forehead furrowed and her pretty blue eyes not leaving mine for a second. I understood her confusion because I shared it. I’d come home on a cloud yesterday, but today was completely different. How could everything change so quickly?
“C’mon, spit it out before it eats you.”
I gave a long exhale. “One of my bosses spanked me.”
She blinked a couple of times and then rested her chin on her hand. “Maybe you should start at the beginning. Because I think you just said that your boss spanked you.”
It came out in a rush, as if the words were fleeing my head. Other than the occasional nod, Sam remained silent throughout my explanation, soaking in the details as they came pouring out.
Finally she spoke. “All right, let me see if I can summarize the main points of this situation.” She sat up straight and began ticking off her fingers. “One: Your bosses are the sexiest men alive. Two: Everyone needs to get laid. Three: You are clumsy—no surprise there. Four: One of your bosses … see, this is the part I’m a little confused about.” She frowned and searched my face, her voice becoming low and serious. “Did he abuse you? Do you want to go to the authorities?”
I waved my hands emphatically. “No, no, no. Sorry, I wasn’t clear on that part.” I gulped hard and blushed mightily. “It was seriously inappropriate what he did, especially at work, and if it was anyone else I would be horrified...but to be honest, I…sort of…enjoyed it. Like a lot.” I gave a long sigh. Would it be too much to wish for the ground to open up and swallow me whole? It’d be an improvement over my current situation. I waited for her to ridicule me, but she seemed to understand how torn up I was about everything.
“Okay, I think I get it. You’re a consenting adult and your boss is a consenting adult. But because of some sexual repression or hang-up, you feel guilty for enjoying yourself?”
confused,” I said. Was that the heart of the issue? Did I honestly feel guilty for enjoying the “punishment” that Trevor had doled out? Eric never spanked me when we were together. Hell, our sex life could hardly be classified as rough, even in our most frenzied moments. What I liked about Eric was how gentle he always was with me, making sure I was experiencing the most pleasure possible. Of course, Eric was now my ex-boyfriend. The thought that I was somehow going through a personal sexual revolution—with my boss no less—made me wince. I covered my face with my hands, wanting to pull my hair out by the handful.
But a serious discussion about my sex life was probably the last thing I wanted at the moment. “I just really need this job. I don’t want to walk into work with this—this heavy sexual cloud hanging over my head.”
“Lori, you don’t need this job. You’re not trapped. You have a lot of options. You’re only twenty-four, you have skills, you’re gorgeous, you’re going places.”
I shook my head, forlorn. “The only place I’d be going without this job is back home.”
“Is that really so terrible?”
“I could never go back,” I said, wondering if I sounded as desperate as I felt. “My mom was so certain I’d fail here. I can’t prove her right.”
Every time I talked to my mother on the phone, she made it clear that she thought my living in New York City was extremely temporary, like it was some phase I had to go through before I could “come to my senses and come home”. Nearly every conversation included that exact phrase. I was ready to be on my own—I craved it. But it wasn’t temporary. I was a young adult with my future ahead of me. How could I be anywhere else other than New York City? I knew if I moved back home, my mother would try to manage every aspect of my life. She’d probably leap at the chance to arrange a relationship or, better yet, a marriage for me.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to find a way to cope with your sex-crazed boss,” Sam said cooly. She was nothing if not practical. Ever since high school, she’d let me vent until she thought I’d gotten all the essentials out of my system. Then, she’d offer me straightforward, no-nonsense advice. Most of the time, just hearing her opinion on the situation made me realize that I’d known the answer all along. I sat up and threw my arms around Sam. She gave me a crushing hug in return, rubbing my back soothingly.
“I guess that’s what I’m going to have to do,” I said. “Make the job work for me.” I pressed my lips together, already dreading what the next day would bring.
Walking across the lobby the next morning, the ruby-veined marble took on a sinister hue. Despite Sam’s advice and all of my own pep talking, I couldn’t help but be nervous about what was awaiting me in the office. I rode the elevator up to the 26th floor, trying to mentally slow the car down, wishing more passengers would get on to escort me to my destination. Maybe I’d feel better in a crowd of people.
As the elevator doors chimed and rolled open at my office level, I wished I could simply close them again and ride back down to the lobby. I could call Susan and tell her I wasn’t feeling well. But no—that would be giving in. If Trevor didn’t see me today, I might as well forget about living in the city.
Mustering all the bravado I could, I walked casually across the office. I certainly didn’t feel brave smiling at anyone who looked up at my passing.
The dry cleaning ticket in my purse felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It served as a constant reminder of what had happened yesterday. If only I could forget about the entire incident, maybe I could go on about my day—no, my life—normally again.
I had just sat down at my desk and silently thanked whoever was watching out for me for keeping Trevor away during my gauntlet through the office, when my phone rang.
“This is Lori,” I answered, putting my tote into a desk drawer and pushing it shut with my foot.
“Lori, it’s Jordan.” Hearing Jordan’s voice over my phone almost made me drop it. The other brother. Did he know what had happened with Trevor? I gritted my teeth, willing myself to get a grip. I felt like one enormous raw nerve ending, buzzing and out of control.
I took up my cloak of professionalism. “Good morning, Jordan.” I wondered if I could hide my anxiety and arousal under it all day. Hopefully. “What can I do for you?”
“Please step into my office for a moment.” He hung up with a click.
Although the hang up was abrupt, his voice had been pleasant. I let my breath out with a whoosh and grabbed my notepad and pen. Holding them, I couldn’t help but recall staring at scribbles on the pad before crashing into Trevor in this very hallway. Well, he could consider his lesson learned. No more reading while walking.
I gave Susan a small wave as I passed her desk on the way to Jordan’s office. She seemed pleased to see me, grinning and giving a thumb’s up. I wondered if most of the tasks I was doing now used to be her responsibility. If so, I’m sure she was overjoyed that I was taking some of the pressure off of her.
I knocked on Jordan’s door, waiting for the go ahead to enter. When it came, I pushed the door open and took a step forward. I glanced ahead expecting to see him at his desk and was hit with the sight of naked flesh.
Jordan's massive frame was laid out on a massage table in the middle of a room.
He was fiddling with his smart phone, using one thick finger to scroll down the screen, the device looking like a toy in his grasp. As he propped himself up on his elbows, my nipples tightened, stimulated by the view of his beautiful face and sexy chest. The window blinds were open and the sunlight coming in illuminated his glorious olive skin, the only thing covering it being a tiny towel draped across his sculpted ass. A light sheen of woody-smelling massage oil glistened over his back and the asian female massage therapist hovering over him worked up and down his glorious muscles, sweating through her uniform and using both her hands to manipulate his flesh.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’ll come back later,” I blurted.
Jordan glanced up from his cell phone and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. I felt my own smile freeze as a blush blazed across my skin. My sexy boss. Naked. Smiling at me. “No, come on in, Lori,” he said smoothly. “You aren’t interrupting anything.”
As I strolled over to him on the table, a rapid-fire series of images unfolded in my mind. I envisioned myself straddling his toned waist, leaning into the motions of pressing the heels of my hands into his slick back. The strenuous motions of my attentions would rock me back and forth, stimulating me in all the right spots. Soon, Jordan’s skin would be slick with more than massage oil...
“One of my important clients has a birthday coming up. I have something picked out that I need you to pick up sometime today.” His words barely registered over the roaring in my ears. The sight of him robbed me of all other senses.
He stabbed at his phone a couple of times before setting it aside and looking back up at me. His forehead creased in concern.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked. Warmth spread through my belly. Could he read my thoughts through my face?
“Nothing’s wrong,” I replied, hardly even convincing myself. I shifted my feet, wondering how I could dismiss myself even though I could stare at him for the rest of the day. I was afraid that if I stayed too much longer, I’d do something completely embarrassing. Or faint from lack of oxygen. Either one. “Well, I better go get that gift for your client,” I said with false cheerfulness and turned to go.
“Wait.” The soft command halted me in my tracks and I spun back around. Jordan’s face was covered in worry. He dismissed the massage therapist with a flick of his hand. Looking disappointed, she mopped her forehead with a towel, walked past me, and shut the door behind her.
Fantastic, I told myself. Now I was alone with my naked boss.
“I haven’t told you what the gift is yet.” His warm expression suddenly grew serious. “Has Trevor done something to you?”
My denial caught in my throat. That non-disclosure form—was there a section about telling one brother what the other one was up to? I bit my lip, eager for an ally but unwilling to betray Trevor’s actions to Jordan. What a mess it would be if I were to ever come between them.
“No, he hasn’t done anything,” I said finally, convincing myself that silence would be better than Trevor ever finding out I’d tattled on him. If a severe spanking was the punishment for spilling coffee on him, what would he do if I broke his trust?
I jumped as Jordan snorted and heaved himself off the table.
“You don’t have to protect him from me.” He wrapped the microscopic towel around his waist and turned to face me. I opened my mouth to answer and my jaw dropped. The towel was so tiny—or Jordan was so massive—that his unbelievably huge cock dangled well below the edge of the material.
A shiver moved through me followed by a heated ache between my legs.
That thing would break a person in half. I flushed with embarrassment and desire, unable to pry my eyes away from it. Was there an elegant way of telling your boss that his cock was showing?
“Everything’s fine,” I said, my voice a little raspy from my dry mouth.
I finally mustered the strength to look him in the eyes, though his manhood remained stubbornly in the periphery. I resisted the urge to lick my lips as I casually noted his thick torso was much more muscular than Trevor’s. He probably did a lot more weights than Trevor did, transporting myself back to the night at the gym when I’d first seen the both of them. If only I’d known what would be taking place just a few days later.
“You look pretty stressed out and it’s only your third day.” He crossed his meaty biceps over his bulging pecs. Suddenly, he brightened. “Why don’t you relax and let me give you a massage?” His smile was magnetic. “The last time I was in Asia, I learned from the best.”
I feared this was headed to a place I couldn’t return from. But the idea of his strong hands kneading my body made me ache all over. Could this be a test? Some sort of game Jordan was playing with me? Were Trevor and Jordan both conspiring to torture their new personal assistant? The Bishops might have been savvy professionals in the business world, but their personal professionalism was a whole different animal. I told myself that I needed to adapt—and fast—to their style for the sake of my own sanity. Wanting desperately to be a team player, to actually feel like I belonged in this office, I acquiesced.
He clapped his hands, looking very pleased, and reached beneath the massage table to produce another towel.
“Undress,” he instructed, and I gulped. This I had not anticipated, along with everything else, of course.
My heart clattered. “You want me to take off my clothes?”
“Of course,” he said, almost impatiently. “Haven’t you ever had a massage before?”
“I actually haven’t.” Gingerly taking the towel he held out to me, I set my notebook and pen on a nearby chair. Could I back out of the massage at this point? Was I really thinking about getting naked in front of my boss? I found myself wondering about how his hands would feel on my bare skin and the flesh between my legs tightened viciously.
He turned his back to give me privacy. “You’re in for a treat then.”
I prayed that the door was locked. Somebody barging in on me stripping would probably rob me of the last shred of common sense. After slowly disrobing, I piled my clothes on the same chair where I’d sat, fully dressed, yesterday during my interview with him. Eyeing his back suspiciously, certain he’d turn around at any moment, I struggled with the small towel to cover myself. After several long seconds of yanking and pulling, I had to compromise: ample cleavage for full butt coverage.
“Okay, ready,” I announced shakily.
Jordan turned around, his eyes growing dark as they devoured my newly exposed skin. He cleared his throat and held his hand out.
“Let me help you up,” he said softly, as if he were afraid to speak too loudly. I put my hand in his, marveling momentarily that he was able to cope with how big they were.
I looked warily at the massage table. The impression of his body remained in the thick padding, every beautiful contour neatly captured in the soft material. In a moment, I’d be laying naked on that very same area. As I unbuttoned my blouse, my eye caught on one particular part of the table—there was an obvious indentation of where his cock had rested.
As Jordan gently helped me lie down, I noticed I was settling onto the table in the opposite direction he had been in. My breath caught as I realized my face would be pressed into the faint cock indentation. Turning my head so that my cheek rested against the table rather than my mouth, I closed my eyes. The spot was still warm. I inhaled the sharp perfume of the massage oil mingled with a potent musk that I could only guess where it came from. It was the most erotic aroma I’d ever experienced and I found myself wondering if his cock tasted as delicious as it smelled.
I stiffened as he worked his fingers under the towel wrapped around me and pulled out the edges. I became painfully aware of my bare breasts now pressing directly against the padding. He adjusted the towel, exposing my back and moving the material to completely cover my ass. At least I was covered in that department.
My heart thumped against the table.
“Relax” he urged.
How could anyone relax while being so turned on by such an impossible situation? I couldn’t help but imagine him beneath me, my mouth by his cock and his by my pussy, pleasuring one another in that magical position, tasting and plundering until we drove each other crazy.
I jumped as he let his big hands rest on my back. Side by side, they easily covered most of the surface.
“I like to squeeze in a massage between meetings if I’m feeling too stressed out,” he murmured, his hands still firm against my quivering back.
His massage felt amazing, and I immediately found my anxieties disappearing. “That sounds nice,” I breathed, my eyes closed.
“It is. Work can be stressful, but you should try not to carry the stress with you.” He moved his hands so lightly over my skin that I shivered violently with pleasure. “Let yourself enjoy the sensations.” I inhaled deeply through my nose, goose bumps rising on my arms as he continued to ghost his fingers over my back. “How’s that feeling?”
“Really good,” I said dreamily, hoping I wasn’t drooling on the table. He moved to my neck and shoulders, increasing the contact until he was firmly kneading my tight muscles. I couldn’t resist tiny noises of relief in the back of my throat.
“So what’s got you all stressed out?” He switched his technique to a more languid rhythm. The change startled me a bit out of my relaxation—it felt like Jordan was deeply caressing my skin. I wondered just what type of massage master he had learned from in Asia. His ministrations over my back were sending currents of suggestion between my legs.
“I think it’s just the new job, getting used to everything.”
I realized my pussy was starting to get a little moist and I panicked, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to notice with the towel covering me. But
knew it, and I didn’t want to be that unprofessional woman who couldn’t keep her urges in check.
He pressed his fingers into my palm, expertly rubbing my sensitive skin there. “I’m pretty certain that my brother is one of your main sources of stress.” Though he said it casually, I detected a slight edge to his voice.
I fought the urge to squirm as Jordan dragged his fingers back up my arm and to my back. He was silent for a few moments, moving his hands over my skin.
“Trevor’s not a bad person,” he continued, rubbing down my other arm and massaging my palm. I struggled to focus on his words as the attention he was devoting to my hand sent additional waves of pleasure to my pussy. At this rate, I was feared my massage was going to have a “happy ending.” How was I going to manage that?
“I know he’s not a bad person.” My words were sticky with desire.
“My brother’s a hardass.” He dragged his fingers back up my arm and started working down my spine. An involuntary moan left my lips at his attention and I quickly turned my head to face away from him. I flushed with embarrassment at my lapse in control.
He chuckled at me. “Don’t be shy. Let yourself go. Just focus on the feelings.” He shifted his position to direct his efforts back up to my shoulder blades and I felt something firm press against my arm. I thought he was getting ready to massage my arms again, but was puzzled when I felt both hands on my shoulders. What was it?