“Mr. Burns?” A sweet voice at my doorway diverted my attention, and I looked up from my computer screen. In tandem, my eyes blinked, my body jerked, and my cock tensed. Subtly for her not to notice.
Though her neat auburn bun, prim tweed suit, and tortoiseshell glasses made her look like some bookworm who should be working at a corporate law office, I swear I’d recognize that face anywhere—with its dewy-skin complexion, delicate bone structure, and those expressive, turned-up lips. Someone pinch me. I must be dreaming. But there she was. That girl I’d kissed last night in a game of Truth of Dare. In fact, her lips were still swollen. Holy fucking shit!
“Hi, I’m Jennifer McCoy.”
It took several long moments for my brain to communicate with my mouth. I cleared my throat and licked my lips. “Please come in and take a seat.”
Unlike last night when she was blindfolded and took short hesitant steps, she strode into my office with a strong confident gait and lowered herself onto one of the two armchairs facing me. She placed her shoulder bag and briefcase on the floor next to her and crossed her shapely, long legs. I had the burning urge to uncross them.
“So, Ms. McCoy—”
“You can call me Jennifer.”
Okay, let’s start over. “So, Jen-ni-fer, you come highly recommended by my boss, Saul Bernstein.” God, I loved saying her name. It sucked the air out of my lungs.
She flashed a small smile. Two little dimples winked at her kissable lips. My cock twitched and I continued.
“However, I’m not sure why someone with a passion for children’s television would want to work for a porn channel.”
Without flinching, she held my gaze steady. “Adults are no different than children. They need to be entertained.”
That was a fact. And that’s why we referred to our network and programming as “adult entertainment.” I wasn’t done testing her. Or studying her—especially her eyes. Her blindfold had hidden them from me last night, and after she’d disappeared, I kept imagining what they looked like. I thought they might be brown or blue and deep-set. But they were wide-set and green—the greenest eyes I’d ever seen on a human being. When she blinked, it was if they were two leaves fluttering in the wind. I caught my breath.
“Well, it’s one thing to tell a producer of a cartoon that he—”
“Or she,” she interrupted.
“Or she needs to make the shaggy dog bark louder, but it’s another to tell the producer of a porn flick that his female star who’s being shagged needs to scream louder.”
“Not a problem,” she said flatly.
“Well, then, let’s pretend I’m the producer, and I’m not quite sure what you want. Can you please demonstrate?”
“Sure.” She cleared her throat and then took off her glasses, setting them on my desk. Fuck. Her eyes were beautiful.
My gaze stayed fixed on them as she flung her head back, and a look of torturous pleasure washed over her face. It was identical to the expression on her face last night as I held her head back and fucked her mouth with my tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, baby, yes! Make me come! Oh God! Oh, yes, Yes, YES!” Each breathy “yes” was louder than the one before, the last one a roar so loud I thought the whole office would hear her. Holy shit. This girl was a fucking tiger. Beneath my desk, my cock was applauding. Was this how Ms. McCoy, M.A., came, or was she just a great actress? If the latter, this girl should be starring in porn flicks, not giving script notes.
“Was that loud and clear enough?” she asked matter-of-factly, staring me in the face. A slight blush colored her cheeks.
I felt heated. Flushed and flustered. And I could feel my cock uncomfortably strain against my fly. Fuck this girl. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to work with her, but I had no choice.
Collecting myself, I said, “So, I assume you’ll be able to work long hours. Be on the set if necessary to oversee a shoot. Even at wee hours in the morning.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to do a great job.”
How about a blow job? Or a hand job? I bit down on my tongue.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She scowled at me. Damn. She was sexy when she did that.
“What kind of question is that? What does that have to do with this job?”
“I’m just curious. Is that a crime?”
“Well, it borders on sexual harassment, and the answer is yes. I have a boyfriend. In fact, a fiancé. He’s a dentist.”
Her tone was defensive. Like she was off limits. I glanced at her left hand. There was surprisingly no ring on her fourth finger. I let it go and instead handed her a thick file.
“What’s this?” She opened the file and gazed down at the stack of papers.
“Your first assignment. This file contains our latest ratings reports. I’d like you to review them and then tomorrow present a full analysis of why our daytime ratings are sagging.” I checked my agenda in Outlook. “Why don’t we say at ten a.m.?”
She closed the file and then retrieved her shoulder bag and briefcase. “I’ll get right on it,” she said, rising to her feet.
My eyes glanced down at my desk. “Don’t forget your glasses.”
She twitched an embarrassed little smile. I handed them to her and brushed my fingers against hers.
“Thanks,” she said, nervously setting them back on her face. “And thanks for hiring me. You won’t be disappointed.”
Book Loving Pixies 