Christmas is the season of giving…spankings and orgasms.
Nicholas Saint’s assistant, Rebecca, just quit. The best assistant he’d ever had and the star of all his late-night fantasies, but he knew better than to dip his quill in the company ink. Whenever the urge to bend her over the desk and make her ass glow like Rudolph’s nose became unbearable, he’d taken his urges to the BDSM club and worked those kinks out.
Now she’s gone, leaving him pissed off, turned on and more than a little regretful that he’d never got to hear “Yes, Daddy” spill from her red lips. Good thing the club’s Christmas party is tonight—he needs a sweet submissive and a hard scene to get Rebecca out of his head.
Rebecca McBride spent the last three years in a state of unrequited lust for her handsome, grumpy boss all the while imagining him pinning her down, his voice a dark whisper in her ear, urging her to be a good girl for Daddy. Talk about an uncomfortable working environment. It’s time to put her unattainable fantasies aside and find a new job, and a new man. Someone who can give her the love she needs—and the kink she craves.
That club she’s been meaning to try is having a Christmas party…
Publisher's Note: This book is linked to the Perfect Taboo series.
General Release Date: 15th December 2020
“He’s making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice”
Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town
“Have you been a good little girl this year?”
Nicholas Saint stared at his executive assistant, hoping he’d heard her wrong. Or, if he hadn’t, that she was joking. She’d never joked before, but there was a first time for everything.
He couldn’t tell by her face, which was set in its usual calm, serene expression. The building could be on fire and she’d be wearing that expression—big gray eyes calm, red lips unsmiling, black hair pulled back in a low, sleek tail that lay, ends gently curled, over one shoulder. Her face remained, in all circumstances, sedate, composed and subtly beautiful.
Unfortunately for his concentration, the rest of her wasn’t sedate or subtle in the slightest, as per fucking usual. She had curves for days, thighs and hips and breasts that had starred in more than one midnight fantasy in the three years she’d worked for him. Not to mention her ass, which he couldn’t see at the moment but could picture with perfect clarity.
It was a goddamned work of art, that ass, and if he hadn’t been a butt man before she’d come to work for him, he’d turned into one about five minutes after.
It didn’t help that she always dressed like she was going to a photoshoot for some kind of retro-themed secretarial porn. He would no doubt add the black pencil skirt, fuzzy white sweater and seamed stockings to the list of outfits he’d like to peel her out of, but that was for later. Right now, he was more concerned with what she’d just said, because if he’d heard her correctly, he had bigger problems than being able to see the lace edge of her bra above the deep neckline of the sweater. “What did you just say?”
Rebecca sucked in a breath, making her tits move. He gritted his teeth. Focus on words, not tits, he ordered himself, and shifted his gaze back to her face just in time to hear her say, “I said, I’m tendering my resignation.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He laid his pen down on his desk and made an effort to unclench.
“I’ve already emailed human resources,” she went on, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was trying not to leap over the desk and strangle her. “I’m sure they’ll be able to find someone to replace me in no time.”
He couldn’t say what he thought of that, not without using a lot of office-inappropriate words, so he ignored it. “Why?”
She looked at him, her soft gray eyes steady. “Why what?”
“Why are you quitting?”
“Because I want a life,” she said baldly.
He was concentrating so hard on not revealing how aroused he was—also as per fucking usual—that he forgot his manners. “What the hell does that mean?” he blurted out, his voice sharp and aggressive, and her quiet gray gaze went flinty.
Which only turned him on more.
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon on a Saturday, Mr. Saint,” she pointed out. “The day before Christmas Eve.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit, he’d lost track of time. “Work doesn’t stop for Christmas,” he said lamely, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything better, not with those tits heaving in his face.
Well, eight feet away from his face and on the other side of a desk, but still. They could’ve been fifty feet away and he still would’ve noticed.
They were just that good.
“It does if you have a life,” she shot back, thankfully unaware of the hypnotic power of her breasts. “Which I would like to have. Ergo, I quit.”
None of that was at all unreasonable, a realization that just made him scowl harder. “If it’s that big of a deal, go ahead and go home. I’ll see you on the twenty-sixth.”
Now her cheeks flushed, and her soft eyes took on a distinct glint of…was that anger? He’d never seen Rebecca angry, and it turned the quiet radiance he was used to into something much more dangerous.
It was fucking hot.
“I’m going home for the rest of my life,” she informed him, her voice sharp and so unlike the calm she usually displayed that he was caught off guard. She tossed the thick folder in her hand onto his desk. “That’s all my notes on the Overfield negotiations, and the last version of the contract, which I’ve already sent on to our lawyers and theirs. I’ll make sure HR knows to get someone in who can handle any more changes they need.”
He didn’t even look at the folder. “You can’t just quit, Rebecca.”
“Actually, I can.” She nodded to the computer on his desk. “I have three weeks of unused vacation time I’ll be taking in lieu of notice. There’s a formal letter of resignation in your email. I cc’d HR, and Nate.”
Nick’s temper started to spike, and he made an effort to tamp it down. She always called his brother by his first name, while he was ‘Mr. Saint’. It drove him crazy, but he couldn’t afford to let that get to him right now. If he lost his temper, he’d never get her to stay. And he needed her to stay. She was the best assistant he’d ever had, tits and ass notwithstanding.
“You’ve never complained about the long hours,” he began.
“Which is my fault,” she said agreeably, her face once again composed, though she couldn’t quite mask the irritation. Her voice stayed low and smooth with that hint of rasp that drove him crazy, her only outward reaction to his anger the glint in her eyes and the fading flush on her cheeks. “I should’ve said something a long time ago.”
“Well, then,” he said, as if the matter were settled.
“But the fact remains I’m unhappy with my position here, and I don’t see that changing.” Her lips twitched, whether in a grimace or a smile, he couldn’t tell. “I’ll always be grateful for the opportunity you gave me, and everything I’ve learned here.”
“Stop blowing sunshine up my ass, and tell me how much you want.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said icily, not begging at all.
God, what he’d give to hear her beg.
“Do you practice sounding like a tight-ass, or does it just come naturally?” he asked, knowing he was crossing a line and not really caring. In fact, he felt a spurt of satisfaction when her cheeks flamed red with anger once again. “How much?”