Chapter 6: Terms and Conditions

Michael

They shook hands, lost in each other's eyes. The hellhound has got the softest body he'd ever touched. His fingers sank into the velvety skin of her hand, and for a while, he almost kissed the back of her hands.

He imagine her cuddled into a ball in his arms, feeling every inch of her, making out on a roof top in his pent house. He'd be gentle on her. Meats as tender as hers deserved special marinade. She's worth more than Room 003; his fuck room for hoe drilling.

Fortunately for his lucky ass, she'd openly confessed her attraction for him. Luring her to his penthouse won't be difficult after all. All he needed was an extra dose of charm and proximity.

He smirked satisfactorily at the plan, thinking of a thousand and one thing to do to her luscious gleaming lips, dazzling in the daylight. He'd stuff her full with his dick and fuck the back of her throat all night.

She may look innocent on the outside, but Michael knew her type. He'd fucked her type many times beyond count. Until they're behind closed doors or enclosed spaces, they're acted foreign to the universal realm of orgasm. Long story short, they give the best blow job and reverse cowgirl.

And yes, they never tire. He could bet his award shelf that Avery Sallow, his new personal assistant, whose life he's about to torment, was one of them.

Up close, Michael couldn't get enough of her stormy grey eyes behind a pair of correction lenses. The pretty pair had white flecks and bold dark rings around the edges, which blended with her form-fitting grey top that covered a softer pair of full, round, tasty boobs.

She's model material, he admitted inwardly.

Her jet black hair was tied into a chignon bun as two recalcitrant strands hung down the corners of her face in waves, choosing rather not to be suffocated behind her head with a band. For weird reasons Michael couldn't understand, he preferred Avery's defiance to her submissive look.

The fire in her eyes, the smoke pumping from her nostrils, the thudding of her pulse, they were novel qualities Michael never thought he'd ever fancy in a woman, let alone, the fiesty hellhound.

It wasn't until Lilly coughed that they released hands, redirecting their wandered thoughts to the present.

"Sir, if you'd reconsider this hasty decision, I'll do everything humanly possible to retain my job as your personal assistant. If you want me to improve in my service delivery, I'll do that with immediate effect. I've never said no to all your needs, and you know that."

A hint of fear and betrayal crossed her intense black eyes. You thought Trudy was the only bitch he banged on his office desk? Let's just say, Lilly would rather work without a paycheck, if all she got in return was his cock in her mouth.

Shoot! She's a damn good sucker!

"Would you rather lose your job, Ms Lilly Banks?" he said icily. "Do I need to remind you that thousand of people out there would do anything to take up the same position you're in now?"

With pleading eyes, she whispered, "I love being your personal assistant."

He expunged a lungful of air, frowning. She wasn't ready to give up his dick to the newbie. She glared at Avery spitefully, aware that her presence meant trouble. Lots of it. She wanted to stake her claim on him, but that ship had long sailed.

"That'd be all for now. Vacate your office for Ms. Avery and assume your new position as Mr Brown's secretary," he said with a tone of finality, before sitting on his chair. "I'm sure Mr Brown would use an extra pair of hands in the correspondence department."

"Of course!" The said man shook his head vehemently, arguably the most happiest man in the world that minute. "The department needs an extra pair of hands. Having her around would surely ease the work load on me. Thank you for making a wise decision indeed."

Mr Brown blossomed lustfully, running his eye over Lilly. The ugly duckling would do anything to go under the skirt without caring to cover his tracks. His perverse lifestyle had seen him in and out of four failed marriages.

For a man who loved eating pussy ravenously, Michael expected him to be smart with his game. To Michael, staying single solved all the problem. At twenty-eight, he had no intention of commiting himself to a relationship.

The ladies of Empire City wanted him, and who is he to turn them down?

He saw the tension between him and Avery when he got into his office. He was on tip-toe, suspiciously avoiding Avery. Maybe he'd tried his slimy tricks on her, but failed to nail her. He concluded Avery gave him more than a piece of her mind.

"You're dismissed."

The ladies and the bald turned on there heels, heading towards the elevator.

"Not you, Ms Avery, I have some questions to ask you," he picked up her résumé and skimmed through it as if it's first time, suppressing the weighty urge to steal quick glance at her eyes.

She paused and turned, exhaling through her mouth. Oh heavens, how his dick twitched in want of her. He'd never seen anyone that beautiful. Not even Nicki in all her glamor. He clenched his jaws as he shifted on his chair, crumpling the edge of the paper, fighting the desire growing inside him.

"You may have your sit," he said in the most civil professional manner as possible.

She plonked into the chair, breathing an air of relief. Peering down at her hands on lap, she mumbling some inaudible words.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

She raised her head and spoke in a whisper that Michael had to strain to make out her words. "I... I just want to apologise for my behavior towards you. I shouldn't have called you a spoilt brat, or a jerk. I was having a bad day. I'll appreciate it if we can put the morning behind us and start on a new pedestal as employer and employee?"

Michael almost drowned in those doe eyes staring back at him. He steeled himself, and returned his focus to the paper in his hand, shoving her apology aside. He'd promised her hell on earth, and not even her kissable lips and innocent eyes would veer him off his goal. She must be punished.

"You stated here that you can work under pressure. I hope this is not as cliché as it sounds. Are you really up to the task?"

"Yes sir."

"Good to hear." He dropped the paper, and eased into his chair. "I'll pay you seven thousand dollars for the job. And if you ask me, that's me spoiling you as an overcompensated employee with no job experience."

Her eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe her ears. seven thousand dollars a month was a joke to a new employee.

Little did she know what her boss had in store for her. Sooner than later, she'd be confined to bed rest, surviving on a hunk of medications to keep her sanity intact.

"Is that for a whole year?" It sounded too good to be true.

He grinned softly, "Don't be ridiculous, it's your monthly check. But there are terms and conditions you must be aware of."

"Whatever it is, I'm ready," she squeaked. "I can do more than what my résumé says."

"Good to hear. Now, listen carefully to all I'm about to say." He leaned forward, and placed his forearms on his desk. "You'll do everything I say, and never complain about your work. I don't toy with my schedules and appointments. If by any means you forget to inform me of appointments, consider yourself fired. As early as 6am, you must resume for work. Lateness to work will warrant a fine of fifty dollars per 30 minutes."

Saying Avery was startled was putting it mildly. She parted her mouth to talk, but Michael was just getting to the good part.

"There's no closing hour for you. You retire for the day only when I say so. And everywhere I go, even if it's to one of my pussy fucking appointments, you're coming with me to watch and learn."

He leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs on his desk, his lips curled into a contemptuous smirk. "So, what's it gonna be, Ms Avery Sallow?"

Okay, that was the evil part.