God, Callie, you think showing your tits to Boss Man this once is gonna be the end of it? Don’t be stupid. This is just the audition. My mind scrambles for other options when I see Bryce start looking impatient again.
Oh, screw it.
I start opening the buttons on my cheap blouse. I’ll figure the rest of it out later. If Bryce tries something I can’t handle, I’ll just start screaming. His secretary is on the other side of the glass wall, for Christ’s sake.
I glance up at Bryce again. The easy smile is gone and the intensity is back. Instead of my chest though, he’s watching my face. I look away, behind him at the distant Bay Area skyline. It’s a magnificent view. I can even see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. Float away, Callie. You remember how this works, don’t you? Just float away and let him do whatever he wants to your body.
I’m at the last button. I let my shirt fall slack.
“Hold it open.” Bryce’s voice has gone deep.
I keep my gaze firmly on the window as I pull the shirt to the side. It’s still tucked into my pants. I have to tug to get it loose enough so that it pulls all the way around the curving edges of my breasts. I look at the floor, but watch Bryce with my periphery vision.
I can always run if he makes a move toward me. But will I?
Shit. I don’t know how far I’m willing for this to go. I need this job. That’s the only reason my breath is getting quicker. Right? I’m putting on a performance.
“Pull the cups of your bra down. Sit those fat luscious tits on top of them.” There’s a rasp to his voice now. Damn. Have I heard a man’s voice like that anywhere outside of a movie?
My breath hitches as I push down the left cup and pull my breast out.
“Mmmm, that’s right,” he says low. “Look at that nipple. So pink and pretty and getting hard just listening to my voice.”
Shit. I look down. My nipple is hard, but it’s not from what he’s saying. It’s not. It’s just cold in here. That’s all. That’s all.
Right, maybe I could believe that. If I weren’t sweating. What is wrong with me? After everything? After—
“Look at me, Callie.” My name doesn’t sound stupid or immature coming from his voice now. “Look at me, in the eye.”
And I do. My eyes all but snap up to obey and meet his gaze. He doesn’t have his hand on his cock like I expected. His hands are braced on the desk and he’s just watching me. Watching my face. Can he see how short of breath I’m getting? Did he see how I just twisted my legs together?
No. Oh my God, this is not turning me on. This is all so wrong. I’m disgusted by this. By this whole situation that he’s putting me in. I swore I’d never be in a position like this again. Ever again.
“Now pull out your right tit,” he says in that deep, growling voice of his, so low it’s almost like it’s mesmerizing me. That’s what it is. I’m not doing this entirely consciously. It’s some kind of spell he’s got me under.
“That’s riiiiiight,” he says slowly. “Pull out that pretty titty, and then roll the nipple in your fingers. Grab both your breasts and rub them. Grab them like you do when you’re touching yourself.”
This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I do it. I grab my breasts in both hands as he watches.
“That’s right, twist it.” He speaks through his teeth. “Like that, that’s right my pretty girl. Massage them. Gently at first. Eyes on me.”
I swallow even though my mouth is the driest it’s ever been in my life. He slowly moves from the desk. I see it but I don’t pull back. He’s closer. Just a step away.
“Now I want you to pull a little rougher. Squeeze your nipple between your thumb and forefinger.”
I do it.
He’s so close I can smell him now. Cologne, aftershave, I don’t fucking know what it is or how to describe it. But it smells manly and I can feel the warmth radiating from his hard chest.
And right then and there I decide that no, this is not like what happened before. It’s my choice to be here. I could leave if I wanted. I could jump off this desk and bolt for the door.
But as I pant even harder—oh God, am I really panting now?—I know that for better or worse, I don’t want to go yet. And not just because of needing the money. There’s a telltale heat that’s started in my stomach. It shoots to the place between my thighs and my panties. My cheap cotton Walmart underwear are wet. I can’t— How can—?
Mr. Gentry leans in and I think he’s going to touch me. But even though he’s so close my hands holding my breasts are near enough to brush his chest, he only runs his nose along my cheek, never actually making contact. Like he’s scenting me.
“Are you wet, pretty girl?”
Oh my God. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. He can’t smell that from all the way up here, can he? My hands freeze on my breasts. Everything freezes. What the hell am I doing? How did I get myself into this situation?
But Bryce Gentry doesn’t freeze. He moves again, this time shifting around behind me. His breath is hot in my ear as he reaches around me from behind. His hands cover mine over my breasts. “Yes, you’re perfect. A perfect little slut, just for me to take out when I want to play.”
At the word slut, he pushes my hands gently away and squeezes my nipples.
What the—? Slut?
The haze of everything starts to clear. This is fucked up. I came here for an interview. An interview for Christ’s sake. What the hell is he talking about? He’s calling me a slut and talking about me like I’m a toy. And what, is he thinking he’s hiring me, as like his personal sex assistant or something—
But shit, that feels good. He’s started nibbling with teasing bites at my ear while he’s still massaging my breasts. God, how long has it been since I’ve felt this? I haven’t been touched in so long. I can’t even remember the last time.
It’s not just hot between my legs, it’s fucking pulsing down there. I need— I mean, God, I need—holy shit—can I come from just this alone? Someone playing with my breasts?
But he’s not just playing. I mean, every guy I’ve known has just been a mauler. They get all excited about my big boobs and just start yanking on them. But this guy is like a virtuoso. I bet sex with him would be insane. Because that’s what he wants, right? That’s where this is leading? He wants a Personal Assistant he can fuck when he wants?
He’ll just keep me up here in his office, push a button, and I’ll come in and blow him or he’ll fuck me or something? I’d said I’d never get this low, never degrade myself… but if it could feel like this?
I can’t help the high-pitched whine that comes out of my throat. Fuck. I’m almost there. And it’s been so long. So long…
I can’t think. Oh God, if he would just touch me there. Maybe I could touch me there. He’d find that hot, right? And that’s what this is about? Sex? What would it feel like if he was sucking on my nipple instead of just playing with his fingers? His face is so smooth-shaven, but even the thought of his tongue—
Another whine comes out of me, and he sucks and bites at the back of my neck.
Holy shit, that’s hot.