expensive dress shirt. What the hell was she doing? Before I could ask, she smacked her lips on mine and gave me a rabid kiss that was more like a savage bite—especially since she growled as she gnawed my lips. I thought about shoving her off me, but my rage was so great I feared I’d hurt her with my brutal strength and get hit with a harassment rap. With this in my mind, I turned my head and pressed my lips tight, trying to resist her.
Then it got worse. She dug her nails into my exposed flesh, so deeply I’m sure she drew blood, and rocked her taut body all over my cock. If she thought she was getting me hard, she was wrong. All she was doing was giving me a rash. My poor aching cock. On the next blink of my eyes, she began to pull down my fly.
“I’m going to give you some real pussy.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Clint?” I cried out as I captured her wrist.
“Showing you what you’ve missed.” Determined to free her hand, she went back to gnawing me. I couldn’t stand the way she tasted or kissed me. Everything felt so wrong. So very wrong.
“E-excuse me, Mr. King—”
The shocked sweet little voice drifted into my ears. My heart skipped a beat. It was my Olive, standing at the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and her hand cupped to her mouth. With adrenaline flowing through my veins, I pushed Clint off my lap, sending her to the floor on her bony ass.
“What the hell?” she hissed.
Her words went in one ear and out the other. I jumped up from my chair as Olive fled my office. Being a quarterback in college had its lifelong benefits. Not only was I physically strong, but I was also a super-fast runner. I ran after Olive as if I were going the whole hundred yards to score a touchdown. Though she was a surprisingly fast runner, I caught up with her in no time. Cinching her by her waist, I stopped her in her tracks and pinned her against a wall. Gripping her shoulders, I pressed my hips against her soft flesh, holding her captive.
“Let go of me,” she cried out at the top of her lungs.
“Olive, please,” I said softly as she turned her head away. “Look at me.”
“How could you?” she blurted, angry tears exploding from her eyes.
Fuck. She was crying again, her tears melting me. I wasn’t sure whether I should brush them away, kiss them away, or just let them fall. I ended up opting for the latter though my lips craved to be touching her in the worst possible way. To my relief, she turned her head toward me slowly and met my gaze. Opportunity struck.
“Listen, my princess. It’s not what it seemed to be.”
Her glistening eyes held me with uncertainty as I continued with guarded optimism.
“She barged into my office and attacked me.”
“Why didn’t you resist her?” Her softly voiced question gave me confidence to elaborate. At least, she was listening, keeping her heart open.
I answered honestly. “I swear I didn’t know what hit me until it was too late. She’s some kind of crazy nymphomaniac.”
“Why should I believe you? She’s attractive, svelte, and likely well educated.”
“This is why.” On impulse, I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her madly until she succumbed and moaned into my mouth.
“There’s only you, my princess.”
“Oh! Owen!”
“Please believe me, my sweetheart. The minute I set my eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. Mallory is just an employee. She means nothing to me except for how much she can grow my company and add to our bottom line.”
Her tears subsided. Thank God, she believed me.
“Have you ever thought of firing her?”
I pondered her question. The answer was yes. In hindsight, I should have a long time ago when Donut King began its descent. But it was virtually impossible with her father being a major investor. And now, being a publicly held company and at our lowest stock price in decades, firing my head of marketing would cause Wall Street jitters that could result in a massive stock sell off and lead us straight into bankruptcy. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.
“I can’t,” I told Olive, explaining the circumstances. She understood, but she still felt insecure and distrustful.
“That woman is dangerous, Owen. I can sense it. She’s conniving and competitive and