HARDER: An Erotic Romance Read online

  He walked around the desk and leaned over her; the smell of him instantly brought back the panic she’d pushed away earlier. “What is this?”

  “The Patterson account, sir,” she said, even though it seemed obvious.

  “That deadline is going to be extended,” he reminded her, moving back and crossing his arms. “That purchase order is the priority now.”

  “I understand, sir. It’ll be done by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” That was the time she’d planned to fax them, anyway, even before she’d tired of signing all of them.

  “No,” he said quietly. Yamamoto opened the paper bag, and Lisa saw it was full of apples--bright green, crisp, delicious. They were just on the edge of ripe, still a bit tart, she could tell.

  Lisa loved apples. They’d been a treat from her grandmother, growing up.

  Slowly, Mr. Yamamoto placed them in the bowl on the corner of her desk; she paid attention to it for the first time. It was a deep red, and lovely. Clearly expensive.

  What on earth a bowl of apples was doing on her desk, she had no clue. But that seemed harmless enough, given... Well, no, she thought, staring at it. After lunch, it seemed much more dangerous than a pair of handcuffs, or a ball gag, or even a whip would’ve been. “Ms. Tyrell,” her boss said, watching her, “pick up those purchase orders and come to my desk.”

  Uh oh. That was definitely ominous.

  But at least the apples were staying on her desk.

  She walked over with the heavy stack of paper and stood expectantly, waiting for admonishment or... anything, really. It seemed all bets were off. He motioned her to come around and resume her seat on the floor by his feet, and she immediately rankled. Not again, she thought.

  She shouldn’t have worried. “That’s nine,” he said coolly, and looked at his watch. “But I still expect you to correct your mistake. Now, get on your knees.” His tone didn’t indicate that he considered refusal an option. Lisa bit her lip.

  But then she did it. She didn’t even totally understand why, any more than she understood why her panties were instantly damp. “Yes, sir,” she said softly, taking the papers with her to the sun-warmed floor.

  “I want you to use this pen to sign them,” Yamamoto said softly, and the afternoon light ignited the fire in his eyes. “Your hands are clearly tired, so you will use your mouth.” He held the pen out for her to take in her teeth, end first. Lisa balked.

  For a second.

  As she bent back over the paper, she realized it would be easier to perform the task on all fours, rather than crouched. Her ass would be in the air, but was that really different from parading it around the office in the first place? Her first signature was like a child’s scrawl, and she dropped the pen and blinked up at him. Was this really what he wanted?

  Yes.

  Yamamoto was sitting back in his chair, his eyes lingering on her chest, then her back, then her raised ass. He steepled his fingers and appraised her with a dark lust she’d never seen so nakedly displayed on any man’s face. Desire rippled through her body.

  Was this really what she wanted?

  She could get up, right now. She could leave at any moment.

  She could forget this ever happened--

  No she couldn’t. That was the thing, she realized. Lisa knew too much about herself to stop now--now, the question wasn’t how far Yamamoto would take it, it was how far she would.

  Lisa reached to pick up the pen, her eyes still on his face. “No hands,” he said softly, the fire glittering. “That’s ten.” She nodded and bent over to pick up the pen, struggling for a grip with her teeth and tongue. She heard a sharp inhale and looked up again, but he was simply staring at her. Lisa opened her legs a little wider for a better stance and bent over again, the private center of her body displayed high in the air, and this time there was a slow exhale.

  At least he was affected. At least she wasn’t alone in enjoying this. She wondered if the dampness in her panties had created a wet spot that he could see, if her nipples were hard because they occasionally dragged on the ground or because of his gaze. It took her a minute to realize he hadn’t moved an inch, even though she’d managed to put her wild scrawl on more than ten of the purchase orders. She was getting the hang of it.

  She was getting the hang of a lot of things, it seemed.

  Halfway through the stack, Lisa’s neck began to get tired. Her jaw ached from clenching the pen, and she’d begun to sweat; she could feel a tiny stream gathering in the small of her back. Mr. Yamamoto was still watching her, and she knew he’d noticed her falter when she heard him sigh. “That’s eleven,” he said quietly, “but I can tell you’re getting sore. Stop for a second.” She let the pen drop from her teeth and rolled her neck, but it didn’t do much good. “Come here,” she heard him say, “and bring your work.”

  Come where? Lisa turned and looked up at him, knowing her uncertainty showed in her face. He gestured for her to come closer, so she did. “Get your things,” he said, “and put them on the desk.” She knew as soon as her hand touched the paper, he’d say-- “Twelve.” She scooted back to him, nervous, but his face was as soft as it had been earlier when he’d gingerly fed her, delicate mouthful after mouthful. Lisa reached over to put the pen and papers on his desk, and as she did so he neatly slid his hands under her arms and lifted her up, then carefully guided her by the hips so she sat in his lap, facing his desk. It happened so quickly she didn’t completely register her position until she was already sitting with her back to him, the papers before her on the desk, her boss’s cock pressed tight against her pussy. The slick satin underwear amplified every fold in the fabric of his pants, and beneath it, she felt an undeniable presence. Mr. Yamamoto had placed her with her knees outside of his, and it forced her to arch into him with every movement. She felt a shudder run over her body as her pussy lips swelled around the tight line of satin between them, the bulge underneath catching ever so slightly on her mound every time she moved. Mr. Yamamoto sat perfectly still as she struggled to pick up the pen with her teeth, her hands shaking, her body betraying her as nipples hardened under bra. She was so overwhelmed by the massive cock pressed against her damp body she didn’t notice, at first, that his hands were on her.

  They were gentle--just the lightest pressure, lingering on her shoulders; he didn’t move his fingertips for a moment, as if waiting to see if she would stop him, but when she didn’t he smoothed his palms over her shoulder blades and pressed his thumbs into the muscles of her neck. It felt so good she gasped and dropped the pen. “Thirteen,” he whispered, massaging her. His cock bobbed against her opening again and she had to keep from crying out. Her clit was engorged, begging to be free of its satin cage, but got no mercy. Instead, Mr. Yamamoto slowly stroked and rubbed her back and shoulders, his hands slipping to her lower back as she bent forward, grinding her clit into the shaft below. After a small eternity, his fingertips took their initial position on her shoulders. “I’m going to take off your bra,” he said softly, but did nothing for a moment. Lisa realized he was waiting for consent.

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, dropping the pen. Fourteen.

  She felt him unlatch it, and then his thumbs hooked under her straps, pulling them down as she sat up to let it fall to the floor. Her sudden nakedness made what was happening all too real, and it frightened her. Lisa felt possessed--by who, or what, she didn’t know. Was it Yamamoto? Was he some kind of demon?

  No. Nothing bad could make her feel this good--this complete. The wound that had yawned open inside of her yesterday was somehow staunched, or at the very least overwhelmed by the potency of her arousal.

  She grappled with the pen again, feeling him massage the ache out of her neck with strong hands. Slowly, they slid lower along her back, attending to each muscle, unknitting the coils and lumps of strain. Lisa was lulled by the sensation, and it quelled some of the desperation in her pussy. She still felt him there, prodding her, provoking her, but she also felt so... So safe, so comfortable, it took so
me of the sting out of the denial. He finished massaging her back and began lightly running his fingertips up and down her spine. The singular sensation made it difficult to concentrate, and she dropped the pen again. “Fifteen,” he said quietly. Her mouth latched onto the pen as his fingertips moved in a wider arc, running over her ribs, down to her hips. They circled north, under her arms, and then ever so slowly, over her breasts. Yamamoto gently cupped one in each hand. Plop went the pen on the desk. “Sixteen,” he said softly, his fingertips circling her nipples. She only had five more orders to go. He lightly pinched the tips, stroking them to a fine point, and wildfire raced over her body. She involuntarily bucked, her pussy grinding into the hardness under her, and he nipped her shoulder. This time, she did cry out. “Seventeen,” he whispered in her ear. Three more.

  Finally, she was done.

  “Time for our four thirty meeting,” he said, and one hand wrapped around her waist as she leaned back against him. The fingertips of his other hand gently traced her lips while he kept his own close to her ear. “You’re still a little too loud, Ms. Tyrell. Go get one of your apples and come back.” She did as she was told, even though she was afraid her knees would give way when she first stood up. Instead, she snatched an apple from the bowl on her desk and came immediately back to Mr. Yamamoto, holding it out to him.

  Her body still tingled from his touch, her panties damp and rough against her swollen clit. “Sit down, Ms. Tyrell,” he said, and she reassumed her position in his lap. His body was lean, but he was so tall he made a comfortable seat, and as he wrapped his arms around her she leaned back in to him with a sigh. “I bought those apples because I suspected we’d need them--assuming we were to have these afternoon meetings in the first place.” He brushed a hair away from her face, and let his fingers trace her collarbones. Her nipples were immediately erect. “I was expecting... Truly, I expected nothing. But... Things have changed, and I can tell we’re going to have to review your performance on a more regular basis.” His breath swept over her neck as his fingertips tightened on her nipples, teasing them. Lisa moaned, her back arching once again, and she felt his cock tight against her swollen lips below. Her clit was so inflamed it almost hurt. “You made quite a few mistakes today, didn’t you, Ms. Tyrell?”

  She gulped and turned her head, pushing her face into his neck. It didn’t occur to her how intimate, how needy, this was; later that night, it would haunt her. “Yes, sir,” she said.

  He kissed her forehead. “Do you think it’s appropriate you be punished for them?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, her eyes tightly shut as she breathed in the smell of him. Yamamoto’s body was utterly still for a long moment, and then his hands came to life on her breasts once more. His cock pulsed against her, and she bit back another moan as he squeezed her nipples, slightly harder than before.

  “You’ll need the apple,” he said softly, and with that, his hands gently pushed her up to stand. She grabbed the apple off of the desk and he lead her by the hand over to the white leather love seat. “Bite down on it,” he told her, “and bend over.” She did as she was told, and before she knew it, her head was hanging over the arm and her ass was in the air. Yamamoto’s thighs were all she could see from where she lay, but his hands continued to instruct her, pulling one of her knees onto the couch as she stood on the other leg. The angle opened her wide, and her breasts swept over the thick leather. The couch arm was a perfect fit for Lisa.

  “One,” Yamamoto said softly, and the blow landed on her ass before she could even take a breath. She grunted into the apple as her nipples dragged on the leather. “Two,” he said, hitting the other cheek. It stung, and she gasped, her teeth sinking into the tart flesh of the fruit in her mouth. “Three.” This time, he aimed for the center, and his hand landed firmly on her swollen lips; his long fingers stroked her clit through the satin as he pulled it back. It felt like being struck by lightening. “Four,” he whispered, his hand landing on her wetness once again, and once again stroking her. Lisa began to tremble, her whole body sweeping with the mingled sensations of sharp, wicked pain, and an acute, unfamiliar pleasure. “Five.” He stroked her all the way from her clit to the cleft of her ass, and she knew she was going to come. “Six,” he whispered, and she moaned as waves of peaked ecstasy rippled from deep inside her, echoing out over her skin. “Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.” He was merciless. Lisa came so hard she bucked into his hand, crying out. Tears crept into the corners of her eyes, and her leg shook. “Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.” Lisa pushed her ass higher into the air, her body greedy for the attention, arching up for maximum impact. She felt the blows reverberate through her, her pussy clenching, her spine on fire. “Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen....Seventeen.” He let his fingertips gently stroke her lips, massaging her through the satin as she moaned into the apple. She’d come so hard the fabric was sticky. Tiny aftershocks rippled through her at his touch, and she saw sparks. Very slowly, Mr. Yamamoto pulled her back up to standing and took her in his arms, then pulling her down and cradling her in his lap. She curled into a shaking ball, her head tucked under his chin. All of her senses were dulled by the trance state induced by so many orgasms in succession. He softly stroked her hair as her breathing returned to normal, holding her tight against his chest. “I’m sorry about the apple, Ms. Tyrell,” he said in that same soft voice. “It’s necessary, I’m afraid--to prevent an incident of the kind I told you about. I’m not comfortable using most of the...” He hesitated, then rushed on, his voice slowly filling with the sadness she’d heard before. “The equipment, shall we say, that people like me tend to use. I have rarely indulged my appetites, thankfully...” He trailed off, and she tilted her head back to look up at him. Yamamoto smiled when he saw her face; she realized she’d never seen him smile before. Never. Not once, in four years. It turned him from a cold, unapproachably handsome man into someone...almost... It was gone. “I was saying something, about my problem... Yes, the apple.” His eyes burned, his mouth grim. “It’s essentially what they might call a ball gag. To keep you quiet.” He swallowed. “And to...To excite me, because you can’t capture your saliva.” She wiped her chin self-consciously, but he smiled again. “You’re clean,” he said quietly. “Please don’t worry.”

  “Mr. Yamamoto,” she said, hearing the catch in her voice, “I...” They stared at each other; his hands froze on her body, and she felt suddenly stiff in his arms. His instant retreat hurt her in a way Lisa wasn’t prepared for, and she backpedaled. They were still working, after all. Get it together, Lisa, she admonished herself. She needed to sort out her emotions at home, not here. Not in his arms. “I need another day to decide the best way to approach this.”

  “What do you mean, Ms. Tyrell?” She could tell he was trying to sound the way he had before their confrontation: professional, distant, in control. If she hadn’t spent the entire day drinking in each subtle change in his expression, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference; he was frightened. Anxious, worried, upset. Too many emotions for any one person to contain, but he still tried. She’d believed in his facade for years, too, but now...Lisa wondered how many times he had spoken to her while hiding the well of pain she saw so plainly in him now, and laid a palm on his cheek; his eyes instantly shut, his body untensed beneath her. He took a deep breath. “I mean, tomorrow will probably be a lot like today. I’m going to do what I want...”

  “Are you sure you want me doing what I want again?” He opened his amber eyes and locked them onto hers. She could tell he expected her to say no... And desperately hoped she said yes.

  She did, and she meant it. She had a lot to think about, but not here. Not now. Yamamoto seemed utterly content with her reply. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead again. Just once. It was very strange for her to realize that he’d only kissed her forehead, the most chaste of all possible kisses...And nibbled her shoulder. But still... This powerful a reaction from her body, and he hadn’t even kissed her?

  He hadn’t shared i
n her release, either, she realized, but he seemed to have even forgotten that was usually part of the deal. His arms were around her, his face, if anything, tender, as his eyes swept over her.

  “I got you a cab,” he said softly, his mouth by her ear again. “I don’t want you riding the bus home today.”

  “Sir, I take the bus every day--”

  “--You’ll get more time with your children. Please.”

  She shrugged. “Okay.” He pulled her tighter against him for a second before letting go again.

  “I don’t want you to work on anything tonight--”

  “--the Patterson account--”

  “--is low priority, and you finished over three hundred purchase orders. No more work. I want you to take a bath, instead. A bubble bath, preferably.”

  She laughed and looked up at him. He smiled down at her once more, and the color of his eyes didn’t look like fire now; instead, they were more like honey. Something familiar, and sweet. “That’s not part of my contract,” she said, raising an eyebrow mischievously.

  He seemed delighted every time she looked at his face. “As a favor, then? I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you outside...” His expression darkened as he let the sentence trail away, and she was tempted to touch his cheek again. The words had made her sad, too, but she knew it wasn’t for the same reason.

  “It’s a favor I wouldn’t mind at all,” she said, and he smiled one more time.

  He dressed her, finding her bra, helping her shimmy into her skirt, carefully buttoning her blouse. She watched as he carefully straightened her skirt, smoothing it the way she had that morning. Finally, he stood up again, and met her eyes.

  Just for a second, she thought she might want to stay. Just as herself, now that she was officially off the clock. Just for herself, to see if his eyes stayed the same soft honey color they were right now when she wasn’t his...Whatever she’d become--employee, submissive, both.