cover art by Renée George
vol. 2 of the Corporate Spy series
Genevieve Taillefer, professional spy, knew she'd signed up for one hell of a job -- to pose as a secretary for industrialist Emmanuel Godard. But while she's distracted by her sexy boss, someone else is also trying to find out what Godard is researching behind closed doors. After an office party turns out to be not quite what she expected, Gen finds herself in a situation that quickly goes from kinky to dangerous. And unless she finds a way out, it might cost her not only her job, but her life.
Excerpt under cut: a very unusual office party!
“Here we are,” Emmanuel said.
Was he supposed to take my arm or something? I just couldn’t picture it. But then we came up to the doors, and Emmanuel pushed them open.
The minute I glanced past the doorway into that room I realized my tragic mistake. For all Shannon’s efforts I was not dressed for the occasion. Far from. My LBD was lovely, sure, except the other women’s little black dresses were of black leather, and a lot less of it. Cautiously I turned to look at Godard, who grinned. So he knew. Bastard.
I tried to get angry with him, but then out of nowhere he produced a leather collar and cuffs. “Your hands.”
I felt myself get warm as I held out my wrists. The leather was soft and smooth and didn’t cut into my skin even when he tightened the cuffs. Then he came up behind me and unceremoniously yanked my head backward by my hair. Unprepared -- although I suppose I really should have expected this -- I gasped as he passed the collar around my neck and let go of my hair in order to fasten it. “Some office party,” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. It had the desired effect. He shoved me down so hard my knees hit the floor, and I held back a yelp of shock.
“Talk back again and it will end badly.” He leaned down to my ear to say this, and it sent shivers down my spine. He grabbed the collar and pulled me forward so I landed on all fours, and yanked up the hem of my dress so I was exposed. The cool air made me instinctively squeeze my legs together. I could almost feel his appraising look on my thighs and ass.
“Stockings,” he finally said. “Not bad.” I mentally congratulated myself for the afterthought of the garters, and cursed the rather virtuous black panties.
His fingers caressed my pussy through the fabric, and it felt so good that I started to get wet right then and there, soaking through the lace. “This, however, will have to go.” He slipped his fingers under the side of the panties and ripped them away. It came as such a shock that I nearly fell over. He caught me at the last second by the collar and pulled me back up. A resounding slap on my ass made my eyes water. “Behave. This is an official event.”
I stayed there on all fours, staring into the carpet, trembling slightly. Heat radiated from the handprint where he’d slapped me. It would be there for a couple of days at least, judging by the sensation. Emmanuel stroked my pussy lips appreciatively. He slipped his finger inside me, then another, curved them and hit my G-spot, making me shudder. “You are so easy.” He chuckled. He withdrew his hand, and I almost whimpered in disappointment. But then I felt him smear my juice over my asshole and rub in small circles, and it took all of my willpower to stay still.
I heard some kind of sound above my head, and the familiar pop of a plastic bottle being opened. Then something cool and smooth, slippery with lube, nudged against my asshole as Emmanuel leaned in to my ear again. “Dress code,” he said. “Sorry.”
He pushed the butt plug in with one smooth motion, and I didn’t stop myself from crying out. The thing was huge, not quite past my limits… but stretching them. In all senses of the word. Emmanuel reached between my thighs and massaged my clit. “You can get up now,” he purred.
Smug motherfucker. My legs quivered and I was about to come when he pulled his hand away. I groaned in frustration, but he took hold of the ring on the collar and pulled me to my feet.
“Come on, Ms Taillefer. Go mingle.”