“Grant, why have you ignored me all week?”

"What?" Her blatant question took him aback. “Isabelle, I don’t think it’s the right time for this discussion. You need to untie me.”

“When will be a good time?” she asked, coming closer, her eyes flashing in annoyance.

Women always had such inappropriate timing. “Listen, I promise that when this is all over, we’ll sit down and talk about it. But right now, you need to set me free before those guys come back.”

“Guys?” Isabelle sat on the edge of his desk with her legs crossed. One stocking clad leg peeked out from the opening in her coat, and for one insane moment, he wondered if she had on garters like she had worn last Saturday. Garters and stockings he’d gripped as he’d pounded into her tight, wet sheath. His cock swelled in remembrance, and he held back a snort of self-disgust. She smiled. “How many men do you think did this to you?”

"I don’t know." Grant’s ego demanded he lie and tell her it had taken at least a half dozen thugs to subdue him, but the truth was he had no idea how he’d ended up in this situation. “I’m having a hard time remembering. They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Why would you care?”

"Please, Isabelle," Grant snarled. The idea of anyone laying an uncouth hand on her roused a jealous beast inside him, one he’d never met before. The protective, possessive instinct shocked him. He was a man who lived for one night stands. “I know I’ve acted like a jerk this week, but that doesn’t mean I want you to come to harm.”

“So you admit being an asshole, do you?” she asked, her eyes glittering triumphantly.

Taken aback by her foul language, Grant tried to defend himself. “You need to understand it from my perspective. I could lose my job.”

Isabelle laughed, a throaty sound that, even given the situation, made his balls tighten and his shaft swell. “Oh, that’s good. So it’s okay to fuck the boss’s daughter, but not okay to treat her like a human being afterward? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

"Well…" Said that like, he did sound like a grade ‘A’ asshole, not that he’d ever admit it. His reasons were sound-to him, at least. And this is why one shouldn't sleep with co-workers. One night stands and sexual flings worked best when one didn’t see the other person every day. Grant’s biggest dilemma, though, was that he wanted to see Isabelle again. Memories of being with her consumed him, and if not for the fact that he loved his work more, he’d have already caved. He swallowed. “Listen, I like you Isabelle.”

She snorted.

In spite of her derision, he continued on, “I really like you. But no matter how good Saturday was, it was a mistake. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I don’t want to lose it all because I forgot who you were for a moment. Can’t we just pretend it never happened and continue on in a professional manner?”

“No,” she said, hopping off his desk. She propped a foot on the chair between his thighs and turned him to face her. Then she untied the sash to her coat. “Guess what, Grant?”

“What?” he asked, mesmerized by the movements of her small, pale hands. Hands he remembered wrapping around his shaft, stroking him and guiding him into her moist center. "I don't-"

“There are no intruders. I’m the one who tied you to the chair. Consider this your punishment for being a jerk.” With a wicked smile, she let her coat fall to the floor.

Grant’s eyes almost popped out of his head, while his cock tried to drill a hole through his pants. I’m in trouble.Glorious trouble.

Delighted that her plan had worked, Isabelle stood in front of a slack jawed Grant wearing her finest leather dominatrix outfit, which consisted of a black corset that laced up the front and pushed her tits together to give her shadowy cleavage. Barely covering her crotch was a black leather skirt that didn’t hide her garters and sheer stockings. To top off the outfit, she wore bitching, supple leather knee high boots with three inch stiletto heels. And beneath it all, she wore no panties-which he couldn’t tell just by looking, of course-but she knew about it, and it made her feel deliciously wicked.

His eyes stayed riveted on her body.

Isabelle reached up and pulled out the pins that held her hair up, letting its silky mass tumble around her bare shoulders. She knew he liked her hair loose. She knew a lot of things about Grant, even things he thought were secret.

Licking her lips in a sensuous motion that made him swallow, she laughed. “You’ve been a bad boy, Grant. And you know what? I’ve got a special punishment for bad boys like you.” Just saying the words sent a delicious shiver throughout her body, one that made her wet.

A tremble wracked his body, and the bulge in his pants twitched. Isabelle strutted around his chair prison to stand behind him. Grabbing his thick, dark hair, she forced his head back, lowered her lips to his ear, and whispered, “I'm going to make you sorry, Grant. Sorry you didn’t try and keep me when you had a chance.”

She bit his earlobe and chuckled throatily at his cry and jerk of pain. This is going to be fun.

Grant heartily regretted his decision to pretend he’d never touched Isabelle, especially when he saw her decked out in his greatest leather fantasy. He found this naughty, dominant Isabelle even sexier than the one he already knew. It was almost as if she’d seen the images he’d saved in the hidden folder on his computer at home. The ones where women took charge of men and punished them in delicious ways. A secret desire in which he’d never indulged.

Even as she bit his ear lobe and threatened him, his cock strained inside his pants. He fervently wished he wasn’t tied to the chair so he could bend her over his desk, lift that itty bitty excuse for a skirt, and fuck her hard. Hard enough to make her red manicured nails claw the glossy surface of his desk until she screamed his name.

He wanted to gag her with his cock as he pulled on her hair to punish her for tying him up. Speaking of which, how had she managed to subdue him with him being none the wiser?

“How-”

“How did I manage to tie you up? It's simple, really. Who bought your dinner and served it to you?”

You sneaky little bitch. He wanted to be angry with her, but who could be pissed at a leather goddess who stood just inches away? Especially one whose arousal he could smell.

“Fine," he said. "You’ve made your point. Untie me, and we’ll go to dinner. Talk things over.” Then fuck like bunnies again, since you apparently didn't get enough of me the first time. He’d like another taste of her, too. And as for his job, it was beginning to look like pleasuring the boss’s daughter might be the only way to keep it.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? What do you expect to accomplish with me tied to this chair?” Grant creased his forehead into a frown. He’d need his hands free to pleasure her and make her forgive him. "Isabelle-"

“I plan to do lots of things to you,” she said with promise before moving to stand in front of him again. “But now-no more talking.”

Isabelle placed one booted heel on his desk. Angled as she was, Grant couldn’t miss the fact that not only was she panty-less, she was also clean shaven and moist. Her pink folds glistened and beckoned for his mouth. Grant almost came in his pants. Fuck, she's hot!

In front of his disbelieving eyes, Isabelle spread her nether lips, inserted two fingers, and withdrew a mini dildo. Its plastic length was coated in her slick juices. He held his breath as she stroked it across her clit, a move that made her lower lips quiver.

“Come closer,” he beckoned hoarsely. “Let me lick you.”

“You want a taste?” she teased, the length of the small dildo appearing and disappearing into her tight sheath.

“Yes,” he begged, thirstier than he’d ever been for a woman’s nectar.

She pulled the dildo out of her sex, flashed him a wicked smile, and shoved the sex toy into his mouth.

Grant’s first impulse was to gag, but Isabelle straddled his legs and watched him expectantly, two fingers still holding the bottom edge of her toy.

He could not only taste her in his mouth, he could also smell her intoxicating, musky aroma. It turned him on. With his eyes locked on hers, he sucked on the dildo as she slid it in and out of his mouth. He licked and savored her sweet juices off the warm plastic, more aroused by this kinky act than he’d thought possible. Her eyes lit up in pleasure.

Grant began to think the evening might turn out all right after all, until Isabelle let go of the dildo and moved away but didn't take it out of his mouth. She rifled through the pockets of her coat and pulled out something he didn’t recognize-and then an object that made him sweat.

Grant spat out the toy. “What are you going to do with that?”

He hated the tiny thread of fear that emerged when he spoke, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she turned with the switchblade cradled in her hand and stared at him.

Then, with a wicked light in her eyes, Isabelle asked, “Are you ready?”

The look of fear on Grant's face pleased Isabelle, as did the bulge in his pants. Poor Grant, warring between so many needs-the two predominant ones being his need to take control and the need to fuck her.

Knowing he would be noisy, she grabbed the leather strap and bit she’d brought along and walked toward him. When he opened his mouth to protest, it was a simple matter to put the wooden bit between his teeth and secure the strap around his head. With his voice muffled, he was capable of only grunts.

She picked up the switchblade again and methodically popped the buttons off his shirt. For what she had planned, she needed him naked, and she had no intention of untying him to get him into that state. Besides, slicing off his clothes was so much fun.