CHAPTER FOUR

I’M NOT SURE WHAT POSSESSES me to even consider putting on the lingerie. Maybe it’s because Xan didn’t give me a whole lot of time to think about it, and I do want to keep my job. He’s doing this weird push and pull thing. He invades my personal space—makes me think he’s going to do something horrible...but then he backs off. He tests my boundaries but doesn’t overstep them. And for that reason, I wonder how far we can take this before I decide it’s too much and tap out.

There’s an immense amount of comfort in being alone. But I honestly don’t know when Xan’s going to return, so I make haste taking off my clothes and pulling the white camisole over my head.

Once it’s on, I’m surprised that it’s not see-through at all. The white lace is so thick that there’s just a tint of my skin beneath, but nothing is actually exposed. It’s not as long as I’d like it to be, stopping a few inches short of my navel, but it covers a lot more than I thought it would, and for that I’m grateful. The bottoms offer similar protection. They’re not quite shorts but not quite underwear either. Some strange hybrid that makes my legs look longer. If I said I didn’t feel sexy in the outfit, I’d be lying.

While I had thought my changing had consumed the entire five minutes, apparently I was wrong. I stare at my pile of discarded clothes on the floor, wondering why I’m willing to sacrifice so much of my modesty to keep this job. Of course, the monetary aspect is obvious. But deep down inside, I think I’m really staying because I’m curious. This is undoubtedly one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me. Not that my life is particularly full of excitement. Before this, the most interesting thing I can say that’s ever happened to me was watching a man get gunned down on the street. I was just a bystander, a child at my mother’s side while she sold her daily bread. It was a horrifying experience more than anything else. Not like this. Not like this at all.

What’s taking him so long? My eyes dart around the room, looking for a clock. They land on a grandfather clock against one wall. I didn’t check the time when Xan left, but it sure feels like it’s been longer than five minutes.

I gather my clothes from the floor, fold them neatly and set them on the corner of Xan’s desk. Then I check the clock again. Three minutes have passed. He’s definitely late. Does he want me to come out? No. He told me he would be back. I should probably stay put.

I lean back against his desk, briefly thinking about striking a sexy pose. Who am I kidding? I don’t have the vaguest idea of how to be sexy. Besides, I shouldn’t be trying to seduce my boss. Don’t I want him to stay away from me?

Every time I close my eyes, I see him standing before me naked. I see his seductive green eyes. That jawline that goes on for days. Those full kissable lips. His defined Adam’s apple that’s oh so suckable. And down, down, down my thoughts go. Rolling over his broad chest and the valleys of his abdominal muscles and further down to his thick cock. I remember the way my mouth watered when I saw his slick arousal and curse myself for wanting...

Oh my, this room is so hot. I fan myself with my hand. Maybe it’s because my hair is down. I gather it over one shoulder only to fan it out moments later because I think Xan will like it better if it looks flowy. Why do I even care what he thinks? He’s a pervert, and I shouldn’t be trying to please him.

The door opens without warning, and my arms fly to my sides, grasping onto the desk. My knee bends slightly, and I bite my tongue at how awkward I look. Did I really just try to make a sexy pose? Tried and failed miserably. I told myself I wasn’t going to do that. Why did I try to do that?

I don’t have much time to dwell on my embarrassment because it’s taken over by disappointment at the fact that Xan is now wearing pajama pants. He still looks gorgeous, but a greedy part of me would have liked to see his dick again. It’s wrong, but it’s the truth; my boss is very nice to look at.

He grins smugly at me, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I don’t, though. Instead, I just look away. “I’m pleased with your decision.” His gaze lands on my clothes folded neatly on his desk. Then they fall to his on the floor, and he frowns. “Why didn’t you fold mine as well?”

I hug myself, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He hasn’t even commented on the lingerie. Does he not like the way I look in it? “I thought you were coming back for them.”

“Well, that wasn’t the case.” He walks around me casually to go sit at his desk. “Fold them and place them next to yours. Then we’ll get started.”

By get started, I think he means something perverted that I’ll have a hard time handling. It doesn’t. Get started means work. Actual, real work.

It’s like I’m not even wearing the lingerie at all. Like putting it on was just like changing into another high-neck blouse. Like we’re at the office and Xan is in a suit and tie. He takes his time training me on the tasks he wants me to perform. He’s diligent and professional, courteous and kind. I feel like I’m trapped in one of those dreams where everything is normal at first, but then you realize you’re in your underwear. I’m a bit shell-shocked by the entire experience, my mind going wild wondering about his intentions and what this all means.

Most of the tasks are menial, like reading news articles about his stocks and holdings and telling him about any notable updates, checking his mail, and stuffing and licking envelopes. He gives me a small space on the corner of his desk to work, telling me that if everything goes well during my training, then he’ll buy me a desk of my own. It’s then I realize he hasn’t had an assistant work with him on such a personal level before, and that makes me feel special; makes me feel things I probably shouldn’t. Not for my boss.

As the afternoon approaches, he pulls a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and hands it to me along with a credit card. On one side of the paper is a recipe for beef wellington. On the other is a hand-scrawled list of ingredients that mirror what’s on the front plus a few additional items. “You can go to the store before you make dinner,” he tells me dismissively, pulling out a set of keys. “Take the Corvette. It has more trunk space.”

“I can’t drive.” I look at the keys as he offers them to me.

He huffs. “Fine. I’ll have my driver take you.” Xan takes his phone from his desk and types out a text message.

“Can I change first?” I glance down at my inappropriate attire.

“Sure.” He waves me away, sounding annoyed. “But next time I see you, I want you to be wearing that. Do not address me unless you’re in your uniform. Do you understand me? If you do, I’ll fire you.” He glances at me over his monitor to show me he’s serious.

“Yes, sir.” I squirm internally. It’s odd how he can be so kind one moment yet so cruel the next. He’s a stern boss; that’s for sure.

“Be downstairs in twenty minutes. You’re dismissed.” He turns his gaze back to his computer and continues working.

I take my leave, going to my room to change into something more modest before heading downstairs.

There’s plenty of time to kill, so I decide to be nosy and explore the rest of the house that Xan didn’t show me on the tour. Most of what I find isn’t too surprising. There are a few extra bedrooms and a library. Then I come to one room that’s different from the rest. The walls are painted red. The ceiling is black. The floor is tiled, and it’s covered in red rugs that seem strategically placed in front of the various pieces of medieval-looking furniture. There is a wooden stockade and a strange padded cage. A throne fit for a king sits on one side of the room. I’m not sure if I should be afraid or amused. I’m not naive enough to think that Mister Sanderlin keeps people prisoner here. If he did, I’m certain he would have made sure to lock the door so I couldn’t open it. This must be a storage space for collecting Renaissance themed furniture, a rather interesting and unexpected hobby.

I smirk to myself as I shut the door to the room, thinking about how finding it has somehow made me feel closer to Xan. If my training works out, I’ll be learning all sorts of personal things about him. How will that make me feel? My attraction to him is already apparent. I’m admittedly concerned that if I get too attached, I might...

No, I shake the thought away. He’s my boss. I can’t fall in love with him. Besides, he’s a pervert, and he’s just using me. Even if I start to care about him, there’s no way my feelings would ever be returned. No matter what happens here, I need to deaden my heart to him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get through this.

I make sure to be outside on time. Xan’s driver takes me to the grocery store but offers me no help in procuring the items on my list. He simply hangs out in the parking lot, leaving me to do all the shopping on my own.

Thankfully, most of the stuff on the list is normal everyday ingredients. The only one I have to ask for assistance in finding is liver pate, which ends up being in the canned meat section.

When I get to the bottom of the list, my face heats up. Every time I’ve read the last item on the list, I’ve blushed. But now, having to go retrieve it, I feel like I might burst into flames. If someone were to see me in that section of the store...

I ignore the item, going to the register to check out. I still plan on picking it up, but I have a plan that keeps me uninvolved.

After Xan’s driver helps me load the groceries into the trunk of the car, and I crawl back into the passenger seat, I inform him that we need to make one more stop.

“Mister Sanderlin didn’t say anything about an additional stop.” He raises a bushy eyebrow at me, sounding like a mobster.

“We need to stop by a gas station,” I inform him.

“What for?”

“I need you to take this card and go buy condoms.” I pull Xan’s credit card from my purse and hand it to him.

“Why didn’t you get them from the grocery store?” He glances back at the store. We’ve just pulled out of the parking lot, and I’m crossing my fingers silently praying that he doesn’t pull back in and make me get them myself.

“I forgot.” I shrug nonchalantly.

“Yeah. You forgot.” He eyes me suspiciously, obviously not falling for the lie.

When we pull up to the gas station, and he kills the engine, he twists in his seat to face me. His jutting brow makes him look like an ogre. “Listen, princess. If you’re going to be working for Mister Sanderlin, you need to get used to picking up his rubbers. Go get em’ yourself.” He tosses the card at me.

I fumble as I try to catch the credit card and it falls to the floor. My heart drops with it. This is exactly what I feared would happen, but at least I’m less likely to be recognized here; not that many people would recognize me.

I inhale deeply and go inside, realizing that I just need to suck this up. Hopefully, Xan doesn’t blow through condoms like they’re going out of style. Just in case, though, I should probably get a lot of them so that I don’t have to buy them again for a while.

Too embarrassed to ask for them myself, I take the shopping list up to the register and point to what I need. The cashier gives me a queer look before glancing at the store’s selection of condoms, then back to me. “We don’t carry that brand here.”

I groan audibly, feeling completely defeated by this condom beast. When I get back into the car empty-handed, I practically slam the door behind me, immediately folding my arms over my chest to show the driver that I’m not in a mood to be messed with.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks the obvious question.

“Just drive.”

“But—”

“I forgot them, okay,” I tell him before he has a chance to make me feel more useless than I already do. This shouldn’t have been as difficult as I made it. All I had to do was go into the condom aisle of the grocery store, grab the box, and then this wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t see anyone I knew at the grocery store. It was fine. But no. I messed this up because I was embarrassed, and now Xan is going to be disappointed in me. Or worse. Will he fire me? I’m starting to think I don’t really care anymore. This is becoming too much.

We return to the mansion, and Xan’s driver turns useless again as I’m forced to unload the groceries all by myself. I’m not really sure why it matters—why I had expected him to be a gentleman. There are no gentlemen here. That is 100% clear to me.

I decide to avoid Xan until after I finish making dinner. The idea of cooking in the skimpy outfit he picked out for me isn’t exactly appealing, nor is it particularly safe. There’s always the threat of spills and grease burns in the kitchen.

The meal he has me prepare is long and laborious. I’m used to making simple dishes for my mother and our roommates. Most of the time, it’s whatever we have in the pantry mixed together with some type of protein. We tend to eat a lot of soups and stews because that’s what’s easiest to make and it goes a long way.

Now I’m cooking a gourmet meal for a man who probably won’t even appreciate it. Just like he doesn’t appreciate the way I look in the lingerie.

As I wait for the beef to bake, I think about how quiet the mansion is. It’s almost eerily silent. Xan is probably still in his office, but I can’t hear him at all. He played music when we were working together, but the sound hasn’t made it downstairs. Is it always like this when he’s alone? There’s so much space and nothing to fill it. It’s kind of sad.

I let my mind wander to what my mother might be doing. Is Ruby with her right now playing the word games that I usually play with her to help stimulate her mind? It’s strange that I haven’t even been gone for a full day yet and I already miss them horribly. This is the first time I’ve ever really been away from my mother, though. The homesickness will likely only get worse. It’s yet another thing I’m not sure I can handle.

I stare at the marble countertop in front of me, allowing my thoughts and worries to carry me away to another place. I’m so distracted that I don’t even notice I’m overdue to take the beef out of the oven. By the time I realize I forgot to set the oven timer, it’s already overcooked.

“Oh darn,” I exhale a stressed out breath, rushing to pull the meat from the oven. I just keep messing up today. Surely this is a sign from God that this isn’t right—that I don’t belong here. There’s little doubt in my mind that Xan will fire me before the day is up.

I finish preparing the meal to the best of my ability before going upstairs to change into my slutty lingerie and then heading to Xan’s office to announce that dinner is ready.

I cringe internally as I watch him take the first bite. Much like with the lingerie, he says nothing. This time, though, it’s a relief. I was expecting to be chastised for my lack of cooking skills.

We eat in silence, and again I’m reminded of how lonely this place is—of how lonely he must feel. Even on the rare days where I’ve felt claustrophobic living in a small cramped apartment with three other women, there’s always been a warmth to it. It’s always felt like home. Xan’s mansion is just...cold. Brick and mortar and glass and marble. Vast and empty, echoing of memories of a family gone and moved on with their lives. Apart.

Maybe me being here will make him feel less alone. I hope it does. Perhaps that’s half of the reason why I’m here.

Trying to figure out Xander Sanderlin is fascinating in its own right. I try not to stare at him too curiously while he eats. Like a crystal, there are many facets to him. There’s the professional businessman, the kind teacher, and then the jagged edges when he’s threatening my job or talking dirty to me. Just thinking about his eyes when he turns sexual makes me squirm in my seat with unsettling yearnings.

We finish dinner, and Xan tells me to meet him in his private theater once I’m done with the dishes. I obediently take our plates to the kitchen, wondering what he has planned for me next. The thought that he might have assembled a training video goes through my mind, but I quickly brush it away. There’s no professional training video for the job that he has me doing. At least, I don’t imagine there would be. Not unless he had it custom made. And what he’s had me do so far... No, it’s definitely not going to be a training video. With that decided, I mull over whatever he’s going to force me to watch. No doubt, it will be something that tests my boundaries. Probably an action movie with lots of filthy language and sex scenes. Or maybe a horror movie that will make me cling to my religion in the hopes of keeping nightmares at bay.

Once I’ve finished washing the dishes, I ascend the staircase and find the theater. It’s not a particularly large room. There are only three rows of chairs that seat four people per row. They’re more like plush recliners than movie theater seating, with plenty of room to lounge and stretch out. Against the back wall is an old-time popcorn maker, though it looks like it’s more for decoration than practical use. The walls are lined with the traditional velvet curtains that are at most theaters. I remember them from the one time that Dorothy sneaked me out to see a movie shortly after Mother and I moved in with her and Ruby. It was supposed to be a bonding exercise. I hadn’t wanted to go, but she had convinced me that seeing a movie in a theater was something I should do at least once in my life. It was fun experiencing the movie with everyone else in the theater—seeing the people around me react to the emotion invoking parts in tandem. And while I appreciated her taking me, I quickly decided it wasn’t something I needed to do again. As it is, I only watch television in passing when Ruby and Dorothy are in the living room of our apartment. I feel there are more productive things I could be doing with my time.

I try to blink away the brief nostalgia I feel from being in the theater. Xan is seated in the center of the middle row. Seeing him in the room alone makes it seem larger somehow. It also reminds me of the loneliness I was feeling for him earlier.

“Are you ready?” he asks with a smile.

I clasp my hands in front of me and nod, walking over to him. “What are we going to watch?”

“Something I think you’ll rather enjoy.” There’s a flash of darkness in his eyes, and I instantly get the feeling that he means the opposite of what he says.

I lower myself to sit beside him, but Xan grabs my hips, redirecting me and pulling me down. I stumble and lose my balance, clutching onto his bare shoulders before I fall onto his lap. I cringe, muttering an apology as I try to get back up. He won’t allow it. His hands circle my waist, keeping me in place.

“This is where you’ll sit tonight,” he tells me in that sexy voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

I let my hands fall to my lap. This is entirely inappropriate, but if it’s what he wants, then I can’t argue.

I watch as he reaches for a remote sitting next to him and clicks a button on it to illuminate the screen and start the movie. The opening scene plays out like a kidnapping. There’s a woman hogtied on a coffee table with a gag in her mouth. A man in a suit walks around to sit on the sofa behind her. He throws some files onto the couch and then opens up his laptop to work, ignoring the woman.

The camera focuses on the woman’s face. She looks more frustrated than frightened, whining and writhing on the table. The man continues to work for several more minutes as if she’s not even there. There’s no background music, just the sound of the woman whining. I’m expecting the man to become annoyed with her and get violent. In a hostage situation, I imagine that’s what would typically happen. The scene makes me uncomfortable, and I’m waiting for an explanation about what’s going on, some narrative or music or anything.

The man finally sets his laptop aside and stands to approach the woman. Affectionately, he pets her hair and caresses her face. When I see the wanton look in her eyes, it clicks in my head what type of movie this is. It’s not a movie at all. It’s a porno.

My heart catches in my chest as discomfort snakes through my intestines. As if feeling my uneasiness and wanting to add to it, something starts to move beneath my lap. Not move...but grow.

My cheeks flush with color as I realize that Xan is getting an erection. I glance up at him for a split second, and his eyes lock with mine. There’s hunger in his expression—the kind that revs up everything within me that should stay dormant until I’m married. I quickly avert my gaze, returning my attention to the screen. The man calls the woman his wife, which only makes me feel an iota better about what’s about to take place between them. I know it’s all fantasy, but thinking that the couple is married will make this easier...if I can even get through it.

He stands beside her to check her bondage, and every time her eyes land on him it’s with pure lust. She’s in the most uncomfortable position, her arms and legs tied behind her, her mouth stretched open, yet she’s enjoying every bit of it. It’s strange to me, to think of such a thing as enjoyable. I know that there are some weird fetishes out there, though.

The man lifts his wife’s dress, revealing white panties that are only slightly less modest than what I have on. I wonder how long I’ll be able to watch before I have to turn away. This act between them is so sacred, yet they recorded it for everyone to watch. These videos are meant for perverts. I am not a pervert, but apparently, my boss is.

The camera zooms in on the woman’s parted legs. The man begins to rub between them, sliding his hands back and forth between her thighs and down the length of her slit. My body reacts unbidden, a pulse of electricity assaulting my clit as I imagine what she must be feeling. As if responding, I feel Xan grow even harder beneath me. He’s angled so that his cock is flush with my pussy. The pressure against my folds causes the pulse to happen a second time. I feel strange on the inside, like my resolve to be good is breaking off in chunks and falling away. I’m enjoying the heat between our parts almost as much as I’m thankful for the clothing between us. I can picture us both naked, though, and I wonder what his thick veiny dick would feel like slid between my folds. I’m shamefully aroused by the video, and it hasn’t even gotten intense yet.

The man teasingly tugs at the woman’s underwear for a bit. Then he takes a pair of scissors and cuts them away. The sheer vulnerability of the situation turns me on—that she has no power against him. I don’t understand why I’m enjoying this. Worse, why I’m starting to fantasize about my boss doing the same thing to me.

I shy away when the woman’s pussy is exposed, shifting my weight on Xan’s lap. His cock twitches in response, and heat shoots through me. It’s so incredibly crude but sexy at the same time. Again I think about how I want to see his cock. How I...

I chew my bottom lip, hating myself for thinking it. The thought was definitely there, though. I want him inside of me. Want to feel what it would be like for him to claim me.

No doubt, hundreds of women have thought the same thing about Xan before. I’ve always managed to see him as nothing but my boss. Until today. Today changed everything. Now I’m no better than the rest, wanting the same depraved things. It feels like I’m falling from grace and there’s no one to catch me. Somehow, I need to make all of these feelings stop. I need to keep things professional. But it’s so difficult when I’m nearly naked sitting on my boss’ lap watching a porno.

The man unties his wife’s legs only to flip her onto her back and bind her thighs open. Watching him work the rope is a brief distraction from the overall perversion of the video. I wonder if Xan is into this type of stuff—tying women up. He has to be if this is what he picked for us to watch. Will he eventually do this to me? Tie me up and render me powerless? And then will I feel less guilt if he touches me? The idea is certainly appealing.

The man meticulously cuts the woman’s dress off, and I scowl at the waste. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much. Probably because I can barely afford the clothes on my back. And it makes me think of the shirt that Xan ruined earlier. Hopefully, if he fires me, I’ll get reimbursed for it, though that’s a lot to hope for.

As soon as the man has the woman naked, he runs his fingertips over her nipples. I can feel mine beading inside my camisole as my arousal makes its way upstairs. I glance down and am embarrassed to see the hard buds pressing through my top. Hopefully, Xan can’t tell.

As if noticing my distraction, he tightens his grip on me, pressing me down against his erection. It rubs against my panties, pushing my folds slightly open, and I moan just before gasping at the sound. When my eyes shoot up to see if Xan heard, he’s looking down at me with a smirk that’s so sexy it’s sinful.

“I told you that you would like the video.” He bucks up against me slightly, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from moaning again.

“I don’t.” I refuse to give him the satisfaction of the truth, wanting to add that I think it’s disgusting. I dare not chance upsetting him, though.

“You don’t, do you?” he muses. “I bet your panties are already getting wet. Should I check?”

“No!” I squeeze my thighs together, nearly falling off of his lap from the effort.

“No getting away from me,” he growls hungrily into my ear, sending a shiver through me that settles straight in my core. Never in a million years would I want to get away from him when he speaks to me like that. His voice demands my obedience. All of it. It drains my willpower. Drains my resolve. But it fills the desire inside of me like a well in a thunderstorm.

“Let’s just...keep watching,” I say breathily because I need a distraction. All my thoughts are of wanting things I’ve never wanted before tonight—things that can’t happen.

“As you wish.” Xan nuzzles the shell of my ear with the bridge of his nose, and the affection swells my heart with a different kind of desire. I want him to be mine. It’s illogical, but I want more than boss and employee. I want everything that the world can’t and won’t give me—the fantasies of a greedy girl overstepping her bounds.

The man begins playing with his wife’s naked cunt, and she writhes up to meet his touch. He parts her folds, teasingly flicking his fingertip back and forth across her clit. She moans loudly, the expression on her face pure euphoric bliss.

“Get up for a moment.” Xan gives my hip a gentle slap.

A rush of relief comes over me as he allows me to slide off of his lap and onto the recliner next to him.

I keep my eyes glued to the screen as Xan reaches down to adjust himself, but I’m painfully aware of everything he’s doing. The sound of his zipper being pulled down dwarfs the moans of the woman on the screen. Within seconds, his gorgeous cock is exposed, and I can feel the uncomfortable wetness on my panties as I rub my thighs together. Have I ever been this wet before? I certainly don’t remember a time. If he asks me to get back on his lap again...

Of course, he does. And not so subtly either.

“Straddle me.” He squeezes my thigh, though his expression is void of the lust that was there earlier. It’s as if he’s asking me to do some menial task instead of telling me to put my wet cunt on his naked cock.

“You won’t be able to see the screen if I do.” I try to weasel my way out of having to sit on him without pissing him off.

“I’ll be able to see it just fine.” He shoots me a look of annoyance that snuffs out any further resistance.

As carefully as I can, I crawl on top of him.

“Not like that.” He stops me, the wickedness returning to his gaze. “Turn around. Face the screen. You want to watch the rest of the movie, don’t you?”

“I...” I stutter, though I’m not even sure what I was going to say.

“Like this.” He guides me, turning me around so that I’m facing away from him. “Put your knees up on the recliner. Lean forward a little.” He places his hand on the small of my back, forcing me into an awkward position. I place my hands on the recliner in front of us to stabilize myself, worried I might fall forward otherwise.

As if sensing my fear, Xan grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him. My pussy smacks against hard flesh, and when I realize it’s his dick, I feel a current between my legs so strong that it steals my breath. The feeling of his cock pressing against the full length of my slit is so intense that I see stars from the sensations it causes.

“Fuck,” Xan curses, and before I have time to register what’s happening, I feel a strong pressure against my clit prolonging the wave of pleasure surging through me as he pushes the pad of his index finger into my underwear and massages in circles. “You came just from me repositioning. You are ripe, aren’t you? And your little slit is already soaking wet for me.”

It’s too crude. He’s beyond crossed the line this time. As soon as the blinders of my orgasm disappear, I try to dismount him. He grips onto me and pulls me back, his arm wrapping across my chest. I bend awkwardly, feeling his hot breath on my ear. “You’re not going anywhere.” His initial words are aggressive, but what follows has a strange softness to it. “Just relax. I’m not going to fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Not yet.”

Not yet. His words ring with a promise that both terrifies me and makes me want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. My heart is thundering in my chest. I know I need to leave before we get to the yet part, but knowing we’re not there yet makes me want to stay—makes me want to see what he’s going to do—what else he can make my body feel.

I exhale a long breath to steady myself. When he realizes I’m not going to try to escape anymore, Xan loosens his grip on me.

“Just watch the video,” he whispers. “Keep watching and try to let yourself go. I know this is out of your comfort zone, but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I’m less worried about him hurting me and more worried about him besmirching my honor. He’s already doing a good job of it—on his way to...

“Relax.” He rakes his fingers tenderly through my hair. It feels so soothing that I can’t help but acquiesce. These intimate moments with him are wrong but precious to me somehow. I’m not sure how to process them.

When he stops touching my hair, I try to refocus on the porno. The man has two of his fingers stuffed inside of his wife’s pussy. She’s moaning loudly, and I have a full view of him pounding into her.

The wetness on his fingers reminds me of my own—the wetness that Xan obviously noticed. I can feel his cock resting against my folds. Thinking that my juices are soaking him is embarrassing. I subtly try to move away, but he just pulls me back. While it alarmed me before, I kind of like it now—that he wants to feel me. It makes me less ashamed of my body’s reaction to him. If he didn’t like it, he would have pushed me away by now.

The man pulls his fingers out glistening. He reaches for the front of his pants, and seconds later he’s stroking his cock and lining it up with his wife’s helplessly spread pussy. I close my eyes and turn my face away, not wanting to watch any further.

“Christiana,” Xan’s voice draws my attention. It’s suddenly the only sound in the room.

“Sir?” I answer reflexively.

“You’re not watching.”

I’m surprised he noticed.

“Would you prefer that I stimulate you instead?” Without waiting for my answer, I feel Xan’s cock slide across my folds. The movement is so subtle, but it still causes a familiar jolt of electricity. Not the current that sent me over the edge before, but one of the tiny sparks that led up to it.

Anticipating that I’m going to squirm, Xan plants his hands on my hips to keep me in place.

“No, sir. I’ll watch.” I turn my eyes back to the paused screen. The scene doesn’t continue. Nor does Xan stop moving. His erect cock presses hard against me, rubbing crudely.

“I can feel your clit pulsing. You know what that is, Christiana?” Every time he says my name, it makes me tingle. When I don’t immediately respond, he continues, “It’s arousal.”

“It’s not,” I whisper, wishing he wasn’t right.

His fingers loosen their grip on my hips, his fingertips crawling to the waistband of my underwear. I gasp as he wraps his hands around them and pulls them down over my ass.

“Mister Sanderlin!” I look back at him pleadingly.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you, Christiana? A good little assistant.” He balls his fist around the crotch of my panties, tugging them down until my pussy is fully exposed. The cool air rushes between us, soothing my heated parts. It’s the first time I’ve realized how cold it is in the room. Maybe that’s why my nipples are pushing against the camisole like they want to break through it.

Xan grabs his cock and shoves it in the space between my panties and my pussy. Again, I try to move forward, but he wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me back. I sit on his dick, the skin to skin contact driving me insane. He’s not inside me. Not even close. I’m just...resting on top of his shaft.

Xan’s hand slides up between my breasts, wrapping around my throat. His grip is firm but nonthreatening. He pulls me against him and rhythmically bucks his hips for a moment before pausing. When his other hand touches my folds, I about jump out of my skin. Or I would have if there was anywhere to go. He’s keeping me firmly in place. His fingers slip between my pussy lips, splaying them over his cock. Then he starts rocking again, his hot veiny length moving back and forth, rubbing me in the most sensual of ways.

“Back,” he orders me, though he does all the repositioning himself, angling my hips so that when he bucks forward the tip of his cock slides over my clit. It’s unbearably teasing. I’m trembling from my sheer fear and want of him.

“Oh Christiana, your pussy is so soft and wet. You have no idea how much willpower it’s taking not to fill you right now,” Xan groans. The sound of his voice so heavy with lust only heightens my own.

I close my eyes and just let myself go. Each time he pulls away, I feel my body involuntarily moving back to writhe on top of him. Even though I’m inexperienced, I know that if his glans pets over my clit enough times, that earth shattering current that I experienced before will make a reappearance. I want it. Right now, nothing else matters. Not my religion. Not the fact that my boss is violating me in the best of ways. Just that one overwhelming feeling between my legs. That’s all I care about obtaining.

“Jesus Christ.” Xan’s body falls away from me, and I follow him.

His hands are gone. I’m moving of my own free will, using him—using his cock to bring me to that place that I so desperately need to find.

I can feel the angel and the devil on my shoulder at war. The devil which almost never popped his head up before; he’s there full-fledged, fighting to give me what I want.

But is this what I really want? To do these sacred sexual acts with my boss? I’m doing them, so it must be.

Xan’s grip tightens around me, locking me in place. His breathing is unsteady. “Stop. You’re going to make me come if you keep going. And this isn’t about me.”

I glance back at him just in time to feel his hand around my waist dip down between my legs. He pushes his hips back slightly, withdrawing his cock so that his fingertips can take its place rubbing my clit. He slides his index finger between my folds to gather some wetness, then deftly circles my cleft. The sensation that rolls through me makes my back arch.

“Should I let you come?” he asks.

I should say no. I should tell him to stop touching me. But instead, I whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat more loudly, cringing from the need in my tone.

“That’s a good girl, Christiana.” He applies pressure now, and my clit throbs in climactic defiance.

Within a few short strokes, my breath is stolen from me as I get what he forced me to want. I roll my hips and moan between clenched teeth, barely able to believe that anything could feel this good. I press against the palm around my neck to rest my head against my arm and pant. As if knowing that I need it, Xan lets me go so I can breathe and come down from the high he just gave me.

I glance up at the frozen image on the screen of the woman’s pussy spread wide by the man’s cock. Is that what’s next for me? For us? I can’t allow it. I shouldn’t have even done this. Xan forced me to, I tell myself. That’s wrong, though, and I know it. He seduced me. He seduced me, and I didn’t have enough self-control to be able to resist.

Maybe he really is the devil, because I could have walked away from any other man—ran away—but not from him.

A mix of satisfaction and disappointment assaults me at the same time. It’s a weird, conflicting combination of emotions. I don’t know how to process it. All I know is that if we take things any further, I’m definitely going to regret it.

Xan moves behind me, tucking his cock back into his pants before pulling my underwear up over my ass. Did he read my mind? How does he always seem to know exactly when and where to stop?

He gives my hip a gentle pat, signaling for me to climb off of him. I do, sitting next to him awkwardly.

All the heat that was in his expression before is gone. Now he just looks distant.

“You can go to bed now,” he dismisses me coldly.

“Huh?” I ask because I’m still not sure what’s going on.

“That will be all for tonight.” He flips off the screen with the remote.

I stand, getting the feeling that he can’t wait to be rid of me. That hurts somehow. After all the intimate things we did, he just wants me to go away. Did I disappoint him? No doubt, I’ve been nothing but a disappointment to him since I walked into this house. He was probably expecting some promiscuous girl who would be ready to jump on his dick the second he pulled it out. Just like any other girl he could have selected from the office would have been. I’m not that kind of girl, though. And I never will be.

I sulk as I return to my room, feeling used and all sorts of other unpleasant things. He’s not the only person disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in me, and that hurts far more than displeasing him. I don’t understand how in just one afternoon he was able to make me do so many things that I never would have dreamed of doing with a stranger. Is it because he’s attractive or charming or my boss? Or perhaps a combination of the three? Or maybe—just maybe—he is the devil sent to test me. And I’m failing miserably.