Yes, Sir: The Billionaire's Good Boy

Desmond has become positively obsessed with his billionaire boss, Mr. Barrand. He's mysterious. Distant. Severe. He's everything Desmond shouldn't want.

But one night while working late, Desmond steals a passionate kiss that leads to so much more.

Can this eager and willing employee win the heart of his enigmatic boss?

Warning: This story contains 7000 words of first time gay power play, light BDSM including leather, bondage, domination, and spanking, and a young businessman eager to win the heart of his older boss.

Yes, Sir

Something pulled taut inside of me. Maybe it was pride. Maybe the arrogance I’d learned working under him. But I didn’t like him ignoring me that way, just brushing me off like he hadn’t spent all night looking like he wanted to devour me whole.

I did follow him to the door, but I stopped right in front of him. My gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and the flash of heat that passed through his severe features made me certain he knew what I was going to do. My hands reached up to grab the collar of his suit, using it to pull myself closer to him as my lips crushed to his.

I only had a brief moment to taste him, a moment that stretched out in my mind, but not long enough. In reality, it ended abruptly, his hands on my chest, shoving me roughly away from him.

His chest rose and fell in hard pattern and my eyes were still locked with his. The way he looked at me then made me feel like a trapped animal, destined to be prey and simply awaiting the strike. I just wasn’t sure if the strike ended with me being fired or my ass getting pounded while I leaned over his desk.

Before I could even expand on that little fantasy his hands gripped my shirt, balling into fists, tugging me back to him. My body crashed into his and his lips claimed mine, his hands moving up to roughly grip my wrists as he used the force of his body to push me back against the wall.

I moaned as his tongue invaded my mouth, thrusting roughly, battling with mine and winning. Without my hands I couldn’t do half of the things I wanted to, but I kissed him back for all I was worth and I rolled my hips against his, wanting to feel his big, hard c--- against mine. His knees pressed into the wall and he ground against me, eventually moving into powerful thrusts that shook the plaques and photos on the wall.

When he broke the kiss I was breathless, my lips bruised, my vision hazy. The power he had, the passion, it was almost too much. It was obvious he’d been neglected for far too long, throwing himself into his work and trying to deny this integral part of who he was. I wanted to get to that man. Show him that he was worth more than this company; more than some frigid trophy wife.

But right now I just wanted him to f--- me.