“Oh my, have you been here all night, Sir?” Janice says when she arrives shortly after seven.

She looks around my office warily, visibly cringing from eyeballing signs of debauchery. I get it – It’s barely been a month since she had to take care of the last one and get us out of paying a ton in blackmail fees.

“I had to get this thing done,” I tell her.

Janice goes into assistant mode instantly, getting the notes I’ve made organized into some semblance of order, ready for the legal team. She’ll take care of lining up the rest of my appointments for later in the day.

“You should go home, Mr Grady.” she says, looking concerned for my health. Maybe she’s recalling how my father dropped like a stone from overwork.

“Maybe I will,” I tell her, glad to have her taking care of me. I forget to inquire why she’s in so early.

Janice is an older woman, in her mid forties I’d guess, and that suits me fine. She may not be the sexy doll I see most of my contemporaries keep for daily amusement, but Janice is still pretty hot. And she’s more like a mother to me than the one I lost at age eight ever was.

She handles all my affairs with perfect efficiency and none of the flirtatiousness my competitor fund managers enjoy with their secretaries. I’ve had enough of that. Office romance with your assistant brings nothing but problems. Been there, got the lawsuit. Now Janice cleans those up.

“There’s no one in shipping this early,” Janice pokes her head around my door. “I’ll go down myself and make sure your contracts go out. And I’ll get you that craft-brew coffee you like on the way back.”

“Thank you, Janice.” I say right as the call I’ve been waiting for comes in.

She disappears and I focus on closing this important deal. As soon as the last notes are done, tiredness sweeps over me. I get up and stretch, then decide to head over to my apartment for a power nap, a power workout and maybe a shave. I rub my hand over my chin, feeling the coarse bristles. I must look like a bum.

I wander through the empty office then hear the sounds coming from the kitchen. Right as I walk past, the woman crashing around in cupboards bends over, tipping her cute butt up in the air, obviously unaware that anyone else is in the office this early.

I don’t usually get my own coffee. Make that I don’t ever get my coffee, or do much of anything for myself outside of completing the deal. But after pulling an all-nighter on a negotiation with China that will net my company another hundred million dollars if I can bring it in – when I bring it in – I’m exhausted from the adrenaline rush and desperately in need of the jolt.

Not to mention that the temptation I notice as I walk past the break room on my way out is too much to ignore. Even though I need to go home, my secretary had virtually thrown me out, the long legs and sexy round rear of the strange girl making coffee is irresistible.

Put it down to my deep exhaustion after working on this deal for weeks, or the elation that comes from closing it finally, but instead of exiting as I know I should, I lean casually against the door. From there I can take in the delectable little body in my coffee room. She’s wearing a short skirt and a pair of knee-high boots that combine to make an outfit more appropriate for a night in a downtown club than Tuesday at a downtown financial institution.

Not that I’m complaining. She’s upright now and going through the motions of making coffee. The smell of the grind hits me like opium from across the room so that I’m drawn toward it – and her as my pusher. I can’t get the image of her thighs, the little dip between the tops as she bent over, the flash of her panties when she thought no one could be standing there behind her.

Not wanting to be a douche, or some sort of peeping Tom, I clear my throat slightly at the same moment she realizes I’m there and whirls around in surprise.

Her face is a shock. Far more beautiful than I’d expected, but also filled with strain. A tension that tells me she’s on guard after going through a lot, probably recently too. So she’s very controlled, aware of others around her as her features immediately slam shut once she’s absorbed the surprise of me standing there.

I’m kind of surprised myself. I haven’t seen her in the office before and wonder what she’s doing here so early. Maybe she’s some waif wandered in off the streets, sneaking past security and helping herself to coffee. Maybe she spent the night. Homeless or dumped by some guy after a wild night. Who knows?

“I’m not here to make coffee,” she tells me when I say “I’ll take a cup of Joe,” in a far more friendly voice than my staff usually hear from me.

I’m not known for my gregarious nature. But I’ve fallen into a pit of fascination for this gamine little nymph.

She gives me a slight glare when I demand to know exactly why she is here, just stopping myself from adding, ‘babe you’re here to do whatever I tell you to’.

But the perfection of her defiance has blood gushing through me. And like a lone star hurtling toward something massive and mysterious, I’m magnetically pulled to move closer to her by the force of her obstinate glare. Even my most virulent business competitors don’t challenge me the way this girl is doing.

Right then I have the overwhelming desire to press her down and have her on her knees at my feet. There’s something dangerous about this girl, terrible in a delicious way. It’s something I want to delve into. To own and possess and tear away from her so she admits that only I am the boss.

By the way she looks me up and down, she must think I’m not much more than a clerk or the delivery boy. Even though I’m far from a boy and must seem ancient to her. To me she’s like a vibrant force in my tedious life, something new and fresh, something I haven't had in far too long.

“I’m about to find out,” she almost snarls. This girl has some feist on her and she isn’t intimidated by an alpha man in a senior position.

So why is she dressed like a hooker and in rumpled clothes that haven’t seen a washer in weeks?

I stride across the room to pour my own coffee and as I come close and inhale the soft aroma of her skin or her hair, my mind shoots bullets. I almost want to grab her and pull her to me. That, or force her to show me some respect and not this sassy attitude. The pull and push of emotions tugs at my insides, throwing me out of my usual cool state.

How does one young woman have such an overwhelming effect on me?

Either it’s been too long since I’ve spent time with someone this strong-willed or the tiredness is hitting me in bizarre ways. Whatever it is, I have to get away from her. Except I can’t. Not when she lifts her red-gold eyelashes to hit me full on with a provocative stare. As though she’s challenging me, the fiery little rebel.

But to what? I can’t leave until I know who she is. That I won’t come back into the office later and find she was a figment of my over-worked brain, a mirage.

I don’t even know what I’m doing until my brain snaps-to and I realize I have the girl’s head clamped in my palm and my mouth covering hers.

Not merely covering her lips. My tongue slams into her mouth, the way I urgently wish my cock was doing. Her body is still, no fighting me off. She’s completely surrendered. Like a lamb lying down for the kill. And then her tongue shoves back against mine, swirling and prodding like we’re a pair of martial arts mouths in a battle to the end.

She presses her body into the solid barrier of my torso, no doubt detecting the raging wood in my suit pants. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done to restrain myself from ripping her blouse open. I’m in my company break room for fuck’s sake. I know my assistant is in the building even if no one else is.

I can’t pick her up and slam her onto the counter top. I can’t shove her thighs apart and pull whatever fabric covers her slickness to the side before delving deep inside her. But that ravenous desire transfers itself between her firm lips. I clamp the back of her head to tug her closer into my mouth as I devour her with an avaricious tongue-pounding.

“Who are you?” I breathe, my mouth barely a whisper from hers, the overwhelming desire to crush her lips under mine almost consuming me.

Then I pull away, pick up my coffee and exit the break room.

I stumble down the hall like a drunk. Weaving side to side and palming the wall with a slam, forcing myself to get it together as coffee sloshes over the cup.

Jesus fuck.