My Bully Boss Shared Me - Ch 1
I somehow defied the laws of science and managed to put the cup down on the desk next to his phone without spilling a drop. I felt ridiculous pride in my pathetic achievement.
A billionaire bully boss, his confident, curvy assistant and a handsome voyeur who does more than watch.
Bliss
I’m the loyal personal assistant to the most powerful man I’ve ever met.
I’d do anything for him. After all, I’ve fallen in love with him. He doesn’t know.
Does he?
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Patrick is a dominant billionaire used to getting his own way. For a year, he’s been training me to work his way, watching me and waiting.
I think I’ve finally convinced him I’ll do anything he asks. Now I just need to prove it.
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Bliss joins Patrick at his mansion, has lunch and more by the pool when an unexpected guest arrives for dessert.
She has two choices, leave or submit.
Will another man persuade her to become compliant for her beloved bully boss and his desire to share her, just for the day?
Join them for a day by the pool where fantasies come true, love and boundaries are tested and passions sated.
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Chapter 1
I’ve worked for him for a while now. I’ve broken all the records. Most of his previous PAs gave in after a few weeks. One lasted six months. I’m a year in and have no intention of quitting.
What the rest of the team don’t realise is I’m in love. And so is he.
I saw past his charade within the first few weeks. He’s a bully, everyone knows it, that’s true, but he has reasons. When he gets what he wants, well, he’s a total pussycat. Mostly. And when he’s not, I have ways of getting him back on track.
I still remember that first day I walked in to his office.
The staff had set me up. I see it now. They all passed by, or just happened to be in nearby meeting rooms, around the water cooler, those places with a direct line of sight to his desk. Anywhere they could see the carnage that they knew would occur when I dared to enter his domain.
He had rules. They knew them. I didn’t.
I’m not sure why people who work in offices can be so vicious. Suppressed energy maybe, wrong job, wrong career, whatever the cause, they can really get nasty. I’d seen it before, quit previous jobs because of it, but this one I needed. I’d suck it up, get the skills and the kudos the company had on my CV. Learn what I could and not look back.
His reputation was legendary in the industry. He knew stuff, he succeeded, he excelled, but he couldn’t keep a PA. Curiosity inspired me to approach him. Stubborn determination to survive made me brave or foolish. On a whim I brewed and delivered his favourite drink, tea in a china cup and saucer. It rattled as I approached. Nerves and china don’t mix. I snuck my thumb against the delicate cup handle to steady it. The last thing I’d show him would be a chink of weakness.
Feeling eyes on my back rather than knives, but just as sharp, I knocked, walked in. He glanced up. I could have dropped the cup there and then. Not one of his corporate pictures did him justice. He’s a good-looking guy. I mean gorgeous. My interviews were with a member of HR. I’d never seen him in person, not close up anyway. I ignored the urge to smile, to fall to my knees or run for the hills.
I walked with purpose to his side. Maybe he hadn’t experienced such bravado or foolishness, but he sat back. Put down his pen and looked me up and down. I felt naked. My tits ached to be free of silk bra cups. Thighs rubbed together, sweat lubricating their every wobble. My heels felt twice as high and half as sturdy.
I somehow defied the laws of science and managed to put the cup down on the desk next to his phone without spilling a drop. I felt ridiculous pride in my pathetic achievement.
Close up, still gorgeous. His age a little more apparent. Grey flecks at the temples in otherwise thick, black wavy hair. Pale skin and freckles against the dark brows and long lashes gave him an Irish Romany vibe. Thoughts of Heathcliff rang a long-distant memory bell. Laughter lines highlighting his blue eyes. Lush lips with a deep cupid gave me the need to chew on my own.
I felt his eyes trail up my legs from ankles to thick thighs, to my waist. I swear he almost reached out and put his arm around me. He did. Well, in my head he did.
I forced myself to step back but not give an inch by holding his gaze. I parted my legs for balance, fought every instinct to drop into his lap and feel his hardness against my soft butt.
‘Milk, no sugar. Just how you like it, sir.’
My voice miraculously bypassed the lump in my throat without a shiver.
‘I also like people to knock and wait until invited.’
I knew then, the staff had definitely set me up. They’d told me he didn’t like people knocking but to just go straight in. I glanced up, saw the crowd of smiling faces as they looked away. Returning to their desks with cocky, self-satisfied smiles and unashamed pride in their achievements. I could have cried, but that isn’t my style. Not in public and sure as hell not in front of a guy. No one gets the satisfaction of seeing tears. I sucked it up.
In the past, I might have blamed others, made excuses, stammered my way back to the door. But not anymore. I tackled it my way.
‘I apologise, sir. It will not happen again.’
I noticed a half smile as I almost bowed to him. He liked my apparent subservience. I waited in place. Smoothed down non-existent creases in my tight skirt, so tight I knew he could see the buttons at my stocking tops.
His eyes trailed back to my shoes. Black high heels, total power-trip shoes, my pride and joy. Planted wide, I didn’t move even a toe, allowed him to take it all in. From the expression on that handsome face, I knew he approved. I also knew he’d never say so.
He sipped the tea. Placed the cup down and looked back at his work. He’d dismissed me, but I didn’t move, not until he told me to.
I’d worked him out in moments. He’s the boss. He likes the power. I’d pander to his ego, every time, if that’s what it took to keep my job. At that moment, I also knew I would do it to make him happy.
He looked back up at me. Slight confusion on his brow. He’d not known this before. A woman who didn’t run away or fawn with sycophantic pleasure.
‘Don’t apologise. Just learn. You can bring me another tea in an hour.’
‘Anything else I can do for you, sir?’
Or fuck, I know he heard the question. He stopped tapping at the keyboard, just for a moment, but long enough.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Bliss.’
‘Sorry?’
He smiled, this time unreservedly and with a cheeky teeth-flashing grin.
‘My name. Bliss Bailey. Sir.’
‘Good to meet you, Bliss. See you in an hour.’
He waved me off like a fly at a picnic. I stepped back, respectful, then walked to the office door. This time I felt eyes on my back, not the knives of colleagues, but my boss’s appreciation of my natural wiggle and that suited me just fine.