Page 8 of Dark Holiday

They’re already giving me a place to live and feeding me. I just don’t want them knowing how bad it really is. My life is in shambles, but let’s be honest, it was that way long before my family died. That was just the icing on the shit cake. The only escape for me has been those erotic novels. How often have I read these books, hoping to find that man that can turn my disheveled into manageable?

It wasn’t just erotica for me, another way to pass my time, helping me out while I got myself off alone again. It was another world I could hide in, let all my problems disappear, even if it was just for a few hours.

Perhaps I should take Brittany and Ryan up on their offer to meet their friends. God knows I need to get laid and stop waiting for the right man. The perfect man. Someone like Daniel. The few attempts I tried always ended in disaster. They weren’t the man I was looking for, the man that could control me, bend me to their will...they weren’t Daniel. And that’s what enrages me the most.

As much as he ripped my heart out all those years ago, I still pined for him, called out his name as I came. The fact that he’s so mad at me for something he did is just laughable, but as much as I want closure, I need this job more. Let him think he was the victim that night and not the perpetrator if he has to. I’ll keep my mouth shut and head down if it means I can finally restart my life.

Laying the wrong resume to the side, I glance around, ensuring the blinds are indeed closed. I don’t need anyone else seeing this humiliating moment. Daniel’s sneer twists my stomach, sending arousal zipping through my body. What the hell is wrong with me?

He’s the monster in this story, not my hero. Though he promised to save me all those years back, he never did. He didn’t hold up his end of the promise. He left me there, sobbing in the gazebo, the rain pouring all around me.

Alone.

Desperate.

Heartbroken.

He’s the villain in this story, and as such, I can’t fall for him. I can’t listen to his lies anymore. I’ll play his games, but I won’t let him win my heart. I just can’t. The little bit that I have left is so fragile, so easily shattered. He could have had me ten years ago. Why here? Why now? I’m already at my breaking point, so what the hell is the universe trying to say by forcing him back into my life?

My tongue is thick, my pulse erratic as I slide down to the floor. How many times did I dream of kneeling in front of this man, his hungry gaze roving over my body? Instead of lust, however, Daniel’s brown eyes turn a bit darker, simmering with disapproval. They take in everything, not missing a single detail, and I’ve never felt so small, so seen. I want to burrow under his desk and hide, taking away my ragged clothes and unkempt appearance.

My calves ache from the unnatural position, but I hold, daring to glance up at him. Daniel says nothing. Instead, he crosses his arms and pins me with his stare, as if he’s trying to convey something through telepathy that I’m just not getting.

“I’m waiting.”

Waiting. Waiting for what?

“I don’t hear any begging. Besides, that’s not how I want you. Let me help.” Before I can protest, his warm hands slide around my waist, bringing him far closer than I’m sure HR would be comfortable with. Perhaps I should remind him of the extensive sexual harassment form I had to fill out, complete with the mind-numbing video.

Then again, how long have I waited for him to touch me, hold me? His hands pull me forward, placing me on my hands and knees like a dog before shoving my shoulders toward the floor until my breasts are pressed against the thick carpet. From this position, my head is flat on the floor with my ass in the air. Luckily, I wore a longer skirt, but even so, it draws up tight against me, nearly ripping open against my ass.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable as I do now. Daniel circles around, staring at me, pausing behind me, and I just know he’s staring at my ass. Mortification floods my face as he stands there, not moving for what feels like hours. After an eternity, he comes back to my face, his polished shoes inches away from my nose.

Is he going to make me clean them with my tongue? Where the fuck did that come from, and why in the hell does it make my toes curl and my insides clench? Another wave of arousal swamps my brain, and it takes every bit of willpower not to hump the floor as he watches. I hold my breath, praying he’ll say something, do something. Anything to break this stalemate between us.

Instead of words, a large wad of cash falls in front of my face. “You will leave this office, get a manicure, pedicure, and a new wardrobe. You will take a picture of everything before you choose so I can approve it. This discussion isn’t over, but if you’re going to work for me, then you damn well will dress the part. If I see you in another ragged outfit, I will send you home until you’re appropriate.”

Daniel pauses and bends slightly, running his hands over my hair, drawing a soft moan from my lips. Freezing, I pause, waiting to see if he heard me. Another wad of cash descends to lie next to the other. “Get your hair done. You will keep it long like it is now, but I’ll allow you to put some layers in it as long as the bulk of the length is there. Trust me. You don’t want to defy me on this one.”

His hands again entangle my hair as he fists it near the root and pulls my head up to look at him. From where we’re positioned, his crotch is right at my face, and it is hard. The thick length of him kicks against the expensive fabric as I lick my lips. In high school, things like girth didn’t matter to me; it wasn’t even a blip on my radar. As an adult, it’s still not something that really crosses my mind all that much.

My vibrators are usually all external, and the few I use inside...they’re adequate. But staring at Daniel, he’s the sort of girth I read about in the novels and drool over. At least from my estimation. Who knows? It could just be the packaging doing all the work.

“There’s going to be some ground rules, mostly because I don’t want to lose my job because I throttled you. You will maintain a professional appearance at all times. That includes clothes, hair, shoes, nails. If need be, I’ll have you send me a picture of your outfit daily, including your bra and panties. Speaking of which. Stand up.”

He releases my hair, and I stand on trembling legs, fear, anger, and arousal coalescing into a maelstrom of emotions. Bending low, he picks up the money and thumbs through it before sliding it into his pocket. “This won’t be nearly enough,” he mutters. “You’re more hopeless than I thought. Turn around.”

My brain blanks as I obey him. What else could he possibly take an issue with? Before I can ask, he slides my skirt up, revealing my plain underwear. I didn’t think to wear a sexier pair because, you know, work, but here I am, exposed to the man of my wet dreams in nothing better than period panties.

“Just what I thought.” He lowers my skirt and jerks me around before unbuttoning my shirt. I open my mouth to protest, but he spears me with such a stern look that I’m unable to make a sound. “Want to go to HR? Want to tell them about all the demeaning things I’m doing to you? I’ll fire you before you get the chance. All I have to do is show them the resumes, and no one will believe you. Now, think carefully before you open that lying mouth again.”

Unable to move or even breathe, I stand there like a statue as he opens my shirt, revealing an even plainer bra. His hands skim the fabric, not quite touching me, but it’s enough to send blood racing where it has no business going.

“This doesn’t have nearly enough support.” Frowning, he slides his fingers under the straps and pulls up, bringing my breasts up with them. “Considering you lied to get yourself in here, I want at least something pretty to look at.” Pulling back, he turns and rifles through his wallet.

“I have access to track this card at a moment’s notice. Do not spend it on anything other than what we talked about. I’ll know and have you imprisoned for theft. Tell me, Cindy, do you really want fraud and theft on your record? I know how desperately you need a job. That would be like a death sentence to your,” he pauses a moment, a smirk teasing his lips, “illustrious career.”

His eyes drift down and linger back onto my bra, and I want nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. “Do - do you want me to get your approval for the bras and panties?”