“Men and women—we’re like magnets, drawn together. It’s inevitable really.” His hand was on her inner thigh, slowly kneading her flesh. Kelsey could barely keep her breathing under control, trying not to show how excited she was, hoping he didn’t notice her knees quivering.
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING & AWARD WINNING AUTHOR SELENA KITT
Kelsey never dreamed her first job out of college with her bachelor's degree in hand would be as a secretary. Still, she's grateful to have any job at all, with the economy at a standstill, and she consoles herself that she is, after all, an "executive" secretary to one of the most powerful men in the country.
Oliver Pierce turns out to be a harsh taskmaster, and while her friends wonder how Kelsey got the job at all, with such a thin resume, Kelsey doesn't have to wonder.
It becomes quite clear very quickly that her lack of experience is exactly what Oliver Pierce was looking for, and she finds herself utterly seduced, happy to be his perfect blank slate, ready to be shaped and molded and made completely his.
EXCERPT:
"Kelsey, do you have short-term memory issues?" He leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie.
"N--no." She could see where this was going, of course, but was helpless to stop it.
He crooked his finger, motioning her forward.
"Then you do remember what I said about your wardrobe yesterday?"
She nodded, walking slowly toward him, feeling like she was in a dream. This wasn't happening. Couldn't be happening. Of course she remembered what he'd said. But surely one violation of the office dress-code didn't warrant anything more than a warning. Another warning. Certainly not anything so dire as getting fired. Or worse.
A spanking?
"Did you read the dress code when I hired you?" Oliver inquired as she stepped around to his side of the desk as he indicated. He turned his chair toward her as she approached, her trembling knees almost touching his.
She just nodded her response, looking down at him.
"I must not have been specific enough, is that it?"
"I--I don't..." Kelsey's breath caught when his hand cupped her knee in her striped stockings. His fingers caught the fabric of her tights and pulled, letting them snap back into place.
"Striped stockings are not allowed," he reminded her. "Black, navy or nude only."
"Oh." Of course she knew--but maybe if she played dumb?
His hand was still on her knee.
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