Finnegan
My rules had kept this company running for twenty years. It took Abigail Kellerman mere seconds to dismantle all of them.
This was a mistake.
She was bent over my desk, skirt shoved up around her waist, her ass, that perfect infuriating magnificent ass, tipped up toward me barely covered in black lace panties that teased and taunted me, begging to be ripped.
This is your employee, a rational part of my brain argued.
But my left hand came down on her ass anyway, spanking the plump soft cheeks with a loud smack. She cried out, her back arching sharply, fingers gripping the desk surface.
"M-Mr Wolfe!" She gasped. "What do you think you're doing-"
"Showing you an asshole," I spat, reaching past her and slammed a button on the desk.
The glass walls of my office went opaque. This was crossing a line. Screw that, this was crossing several lines. She shifted her hips, pushing them back, seeking my hand and the warning bells in my head faded into the background.
