Chapter 8 Innocence Lost

I grab my phone and pad barefoot down the hall to Mr. Royce’s office, having ditched my too-tight heels hours ago. The door is closed, but it doesn’t have a lock, and I don’t bother knocking before turning the knob.

My brain cannot compute what my eyes are seeing.

Mina on her knees with Mr. Royce’s cock in her mouth.

I freeze. Not just because of how shocking the scene is to walk in on, but because my Mr. Royce’s cock is massive. I’m used to Kevin’s average inches and reasonable girth.

The thought of blowing something that girthy is fucking terrifying.

The thought of being fucked by something that huge makes my knees quake for reasons I don’t want to think about.

Figures a big mouth like Mina would be able to handle a fat cock.

Watching her lips move up and down his shaft makes my pussy tighten. I can't help it. Mr. Royce is a handsome man, always has been, but seeing him like this, I know exactly why his wife puts up with the long hours and unreturned calls.

Speaking of Mrs. Royce, I can’t imagine she’d be too happy to learn about her husband fucking his secretary.

I unlock my phone and snap a few pictures of the two of them going at it. Finally, I have something I can use to make my summer back home a hell of a lot easier: leverage in the form of scandalous office sex photos. Talk about an HR nightmare.

If I play this game right, I’ll never have to set foot in this stuffy office again. But the paychecks will keep on coming.

These photos are my ticket to Easy Street.

“Oh my God!” I cry out dramatically.

They immediately separate. Mr. Royce zips his hard, fat cock back inside his slacks, as Mina scrambles to button her shirt over her sad-looking tits. He rises from his chair and has the gall to look annoyed as I stare him down.

Just try and fire me now, Royce.

He turns to Mina. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nods. I catch her eye as she rushes past me and out the door. Not so smug now, are you, bitch?

“Did you forget how to knock?” Mr. Royce snaps.

I balk at him. “How was I supposed to know you’d be in here getting blown by your assistant?”

He slips a hand into his pocket, drawing my gaze downward. His pants are still tight in the crotch. For some reason, this fact makes me feel warm all over. “What the hell did you need anyway?”

“I was going to tell you that I’ll be back in the morning to finish organizing the storage room.” I stand up straighter. “Now I don’t have to, because I won’t be coming back ever again.”

“You’re quitting?” He gestures to his dick. “Over this?”

I saunter around him and take a seat in his fancy leather chair. He eyes me warily. “While you were busy getting deep-throated, I took it upon myself to snap a few photos. I can only imagine what Mrs. Royce will say when she sees them.”

His gaze hardens. “You sent those photos to my wife?”

“Not yet. But I will, unless you do everything I tell you to.”

Mr. Royce’s hands fist at his sides like he wants to ring my neck, or other parts. “All right. Let’s hear your demands.”

I rest my feet on his desk. “I want a raise.”

“I thought you just said you aren’t coming back.”

“I’m not. But you’re going to keep giving me a paycheck through the end of the summer.”

He sneers. “Anything else?”

This is going way better than I expected. My pulse flutters. “I want to throw a party. A big one, and invite all my friends from college, and I want you to pay for it. I want a bonus, five hundred—no! A thousand dollars, cash, on top of my regular paycheck.”

He folds his arms. “That’s all?”

“No! I want...a car. A red MINI Cooper!”

“A convertible?”

“Yes!” My smile consumes my face. I can already see myself driving down the coast with the wind in my hair and the music blaring.

Mr. Royce scratches his chin, like he’s mulling the whole thing over. His gaze narrows.

“No.”

I scowl. “What do you mean, no? If your wife finds out—”

“My wife and I are separating. She couldn’t care less who I fuck.”

I barely have time to process this news before he’s towering over me. Mr. Royce is a big man, six feet to my five two, and ripped from taking full advantage of the law firm’s health club membership. He could snap me in half like a piece of celery if he wanted to.

“Trying to blackmail your boss is a fireable offense.” He braces himself on the arms of the chair, caging me in. “Trying to blackmail me, after everything I’ve done for you? Now, that’s personal.”

My throat tightens. I can practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

“I've had a long and stressful day,” he says. “And when I have long, stressful days, I like to unwind by getting my dick sucked. But you, in your selfishness, have managed to ruin that course of action, alongside everything else. I'd be impressed if I weren't standing here in blue-ball Hell."

My bottom lip quivers, but I doubt crying is going to help my cause. I’ve fucked up. Big time. If he wasn’t going to fire me before, he sure as shit will now. Hell, he might even tell my stepdad. I could get kicked out of the house.

I’m done. Finished. I’m as good as roadkill.

He cups my chin and turns my head to whisper in my ear, "Now would be a good time to start begging for forgiveness, little girl."

I swallow hard. He stands up straight, arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze cold.

"Mr. Royce, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

He doesn't move or respond. I try again.

"Mr. Royce, please, I didn't mean to—”

"You'd sound a lot more convincing on your knees.”

My heart is pounding. I slide onto the carpet in front of him. That’s when I notice he’s still hard. Why would he still be hard? Is he turned on by this, putting me in my place?

I can’t look up without coming face-to-face with his monster erection. I don’t want to admit it, but thinking about what I saw when I walked in here has me hot and bothered. His no-bullshit approach—which normally makes me roll my eyes—has me teetering on the thin edge between fear and arousal.

He catches me staring at his cock.

“See what you’ve done?” He rubs himself through his slacks. “I could be balls-deep in pussy right now. Instead, I’m standing here with sore nuts dealing with you.”

I can’t not imagine him doing exactly what he just described, only with me instead of that bitch, Mina. Something dark flashes in his eyes, the glint of an idea I’m not sure I’m going to like.

“What do you think we should do about that?” he asks.

“I don’t know, Mr. Royce.” My voice shakes.

His frown curls into a wicked grin, and all the heat in my face drains into a pool between my legs. “Tell you what, sweetheart. You show me you’re capable of doing a good job—any job, but in this case, a blow job—and I’ll consider forgiving you for being a vindictive, spoiled bitch. Who knows, you might even get to keep your miserable job.”

My eyes widen. “You want me to...”

“Suck my cock.” He says it matter-of-factly, like he’s asking me to fetch him coffee. “But first, show me those perky little tits.”