VERONICA
By 8:45 AM, I was leaning back in my leather ergonomic chair, my bare legs crossed at the knee, swinging a crimson Louboutin from my toes. I was wearing an emerald green wrap dress that clung desperately to my curves, the neckline plunging low enough to make a monk swear a new vow. I was currently painting my nails a glossy, metallic gold.
"She doesn't even have a notepad out," a harsh whisper hissed from the copy alcove twenty feet away.
I didn't look up from my pinky nail, but my lips curled into a smirk.
The speaker was Beatrice, a woman in her late forties whose wardrobe consisted entirely of beige pant suits and resentment. Beside her stood high-and-mighty Clara, who had been passed over for the senior executive secretary role three times in the last five years.
"I heard she didn't even bring a resume," Clara muttered back, loud enough to carry over the sound of the Xerox machine. "Just walked right past the entire queue yesterday. It's disgusting. Mr Vassal must be losing his mind. She's probably a temp from some bottom-tier agency."
I blew gently on my nails, finally cutting my gaze over to them. "If you two spent as much time working your fingers on your keyboards as you do wagging your tongues, maybe one of you would be sitting in this chair," I said, my voice dripping with sweet, unadulterated malice. "But since you aren't, go fetch me a double espresso. Extra hot and don't burn the milk, Clara. I can smell incompetence from here."
Clara gasped, her face turning the colour of a ripe tomato, while Beatrice stared open-mouthed. Before either could fire back, the heavy glass door of the Human Resources suite opened, and a tall, severely dressed man with wire-rimmed glasses stepped out.
"Miss Veronica?" he called out, his voice clipping the air like shears. "My office. Now."
I rose, smoothing the emerald fabric over my hips with a slow, deliberate stroke that caught the HR manager's eyes for a fraction of a second before he looked away, clearing his throat.
"Ooh, looks like someone's getting reprimanded," Beatrice whispered gleefully.
I didn't even look back. I sashayed past them, my hips swaying intentionally and followed the man into his office.
The door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the bull pen. The plaque on the desk read: Arthur Pendleton, Director of Human Resources. The room was sterile, devoid of the leather-and-whiskey warmth of Collin and Chris's offices. It smelled like industrial carpet cleaner and strict regulations.
"Have a seat," Arthur said, walking behind his desk and remaining standing. He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at her.
I ignored the chair. Instead, I strolled over to the window, looking out at the city skyline before turning back to face him, leaning my hips against his filing cabinet. "I prefer standing, Artie. What's on your mind?"
"It's Mr Pendleton," he corrected sharply, adjusting his glasses. He tapped a thick manila folder on his desk. "I have a serious problem here, Veronica. Yesterday, you were hired on the spot. No background check. No reference verification. No I-9 documentation. I don't even have a record of your last name."
"Does it matter?" I asked, tilting my head, a slow smile spreading across my lips. "The partners know everything they need to know about me."
"The partners own the firm, but I run the personnel," Arthur barked, stepping around his desk, trying to use his height to intimidate me. He walked up until he was just two feet away, his chest heaving slightly under his starch-white shirt. "This is a liability. I've already received three formal complaints this morning regarding your conduct and your... attire. Look at you. This is a professional environment, not a nightclub. I don't care who you think you impressed yesterday; I can have your employment terminated before lunch for violating the corporate dress code and failing to provide legal identification."
I didn't flinch. In fact, I took a step closer, closing the distance until the heat of my body was practically radiating against his rigid corporate suit. I reached out, my gold-tipped fingers tracing a line down the lapel of his jacket, right over his racing heartbeat.
"You're very tense, Artie," I purred, my eyes locking onto his. "All those rules and regulations must be so exhausting to carry around all day."
"Don't attempt to manipulate me," Arthur said, though his voice cracked slightly. His eyes darted down to the generous view of my cleavage, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. "I am the head of HR. I am completely immune to-"
I reached down, my hand boldly cupping the front of his trousers. He was already semi-hard, his body betraying his rigid words. I squeezed, running my thumb along the length of him through the fabric.
Arthur let out a sharp, choked gasp, his hands flying to my waist-not to push me away, but to steady himself as his knees went weak. "Veronica... this is... a severe violation..."
"Fire me then," I whispered, leaning up to brush my lips against his earlobe, my breath hot and teasing. "Go ahead. Call security. Tell them the new secretary is forcing you to have the best ten minutes of your miserable corporate life."
Arthur's professional resolve shattered like glass. With a low, desperate groan, he grabbed me by the hips and spun me around, pressing my back against the cold metal of the filing cabinet. He tore at his own belt, his hands shaking violently as he freed his rigid, aching length.
I laughed, a wicked, triumphant sound. I pulled the wrap dress up around my waist, exposing my bare, smooth hips. I didn't wait for him to be gentle; I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down.
Arthur lunged forward, driving his hard cock deep into my soaking-wet core.
"Oh, god," Arthur gasped, his glasses sliding down his nose as he began to pump into me with frantic, uncoordinated desperation. He was a man starved, breaking a lifetime of rules in a single afternoon. He slammed against her, the filing cabinet rattling loudly against the wall with every heavy, wet thrust.
I arched her back, my fingers digging into his back, my head tilting back as I let out a loud, uninhibited moan. I didn't care who heard through the walls. I rode his frantic pace, my inner muscles squeezing him tightly, driving him closer to the edge with every second.
"Look at you, Artie," I mocked playfully, panting heavily as he hammered into me. "Writing me up already?"
"Shut up," he groaned, his face flushed red, his hands gripping my ass cheeks so hard his knuckles turned white. "Just... shut up..."
Suddenly, the door handle jingled, and the lock clicked open.
Arthur froze, his eyes wide with absolute terror, but he was too deep inside me to pull out in time.
Christopher Bane strolled into the office, holding a folder, a smug grin on his handsome, roguish face. He didn't even look surprised. He just closed the door behind him, locked it, and leaned his broad shoulders against the frame, crossing his ankles.
"Well, well," Chris chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the sight of the HR director balls-deep in their new secretary against a filing cabinet. "I came in to tell you to clear her paperwork, Arthur, but it looks like you're already doing a hands-on audit."
"Mr Bane!" Arthur choked out, panic paralysing him. "I... she... this isn't-"
"Relax, Arthur," Chris said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and tossing it onto a chair. He walked over, his eyes fixed on my face. He reached down and unzipped his trousers, freeing his own thick, throbbing erection. "There's no need to hog the new hire. You know Vassal & Bane is a partnership."
I smiled through my panting breaths, reaching a hand out toward Chris. "Come here, boss. Artie was showing me the company policy."
Chris stepped up right beside Arthur. He grabbed Arthur's shoulder, shoving him slightly to adjust his angle, then positioned himself right at my mouth.
"Open up, beautiful," Chris murmured.
I eagerly wrapped my lips around Chris's thick shaft, sliding down to the base. At the same time, Arthur, encouraged by his boss's participation, began to thrust into my backside again with renewed, frantic energy. The double stimulation sent a jolt of pure electricity through me. I sucked Chris with a voracious, sloppy rhythm, my eyes locked onto his as Arthur slammed into me from behind, the heavy thuds of his hips echoing in the small office.
Chris groaned, his hands gripping my hair as I took him deep, my tongue working magic on his sensitive skin. "God, you are a little slut, aren't you?" Chris growled, his hips twitching as I drove him closer to the edge.
Arthur was reaching his limit. The sheer taboo of the situation, combined with my crushing grip, was too much. With a muffled shout, Arthur thrust deeply one last time and convulsed, pulling out at the last second to spurt his warm load across her lower back and thighs. He collapsed against the filing cabinet, panting like a dying man.
Chris didn't waste a second. He pulled me away from the cabinet, spinning me onto Arthur's mahogany desk, scattering pens and corporate handbooks everywhere. He pinned my legs over his broad shoulders and drove himself deep inside my freshly stretched, dripping core.
"Ah! Chris!" I cried out, my hands clutching the edges of the desk as he began a brutal, fast-paced assault. Chris didn't play nice; he used my body with a fierce, possessive hunger, his heavy thrusts making the entire desk slide inches across the carpet.
I came violently, my body shaking as my clitoris rubbed against the friction of his movements. I screamed his name, completely unbothered by the corporate setting. Chris let out a guttural roar, driving deep inside me one final time as he came, filling me with
