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For Her Pleasure
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Английский
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Текст
Год издания:
2018
Полная версия
Полная версия
For Her Pleasure
Kyoko Church
Imagine an average guy with a wife, a job, average house, average car, average sex life… Well, not exactly. He has a secret he finds so embarrassing that he never talks to anyone about it. And then one day he meets her…Kyoko Church’s ‘For Her Pleasure’ is an intensely kinky read perfect for those lusting after more than ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’An architect chairs the newly formed Sexual Harassment in the Workplace Committee. When the consultant he hires to help him organize the new committee turns out to be a red haired bombshell, he tries to rein in his untoward thoughts.But when she uncovers his embarrassing little secrets, this married man ends up in a relationship that’s so wrong on every level of his carefully put together life.How long will he let his burning carnal desires threaten everything he’s worked so hard for?
For Her Pleasure
Kyoko Church
(http://www.mischiefbooks.com)
Table of Contents
Title Page (#u74a36c34-cdf6-57bf-b5f7-2e9c29a6f67a)
Prologue (#u92a76562-19f5-5c90-8ee0-956386bc2eab)
Chapter 1 (#u35b33244-04fd-5b82-8d22-ff87a1c70395)
Chapter 2 (#u31d82a5f-3c28-5c05-a18b-50f9518047be)
Chapter 3 (#u3dc28254-f158-5615-b692-07faef2ff6ef)
Chapter 4 (#ua801faf4-a423-504f-b6e4-b987bbad7ff8)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
More from Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
About Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
‘Sweet –’ Mistress started. But he saw her flinch. And his heart died a little. ‘Paul, there’s no such thing as truth,’ she said.
He didn’t disagree. He remembered, now, his place. He kept his subbie mouth shut.
This is what she’d been teaching him. In the human psyche there is no such thing as truth, only perspective. She understood that a person can have a secret, something he thinks is ugly. So he hides it from view, tucks it away, only visits it in secret, on weekends and then only to torture himself, like picking at a scab. But she saw the glimmer of it. So she plucked it out, dusted it off. Turned it a hair to the left. And stood back for him to see. Waited for him to realise: the thing he most hated, he could actually love.
She taught him that. She gave him that gift.
And then he betrayed her.
‘Take these keys and unlock that cabinet.’ Her emerald eyes flashed with a thousand storms behind them. Only yesterday they shone with her laughter. That he was responsible made him want to crumble to the floor.
Obediently he took the keys. The cabinet she was motioning to was in the corner, mahogany to match the other furniture in her office. He’d never noticed it before.
He opened it. And gasped. But then he knew. And suddenly, unaccountably, shockingly he was consumed with want, with need. A new need. A dark one.
‘You pick which one –’ her voice, coming from behind him, was taut with barely contained rage ‘– slut. And bring it to me.’
Knees trembling, he chose a wooden paddle. Its wood was also dark and polished to a high sheen. It looked like an oar with most of the handle cut off. There was a leather tie running through a hole in the top of the short handle from which it hung in the cabinet next to other tools.
When he was naked, when he was prostrated over her desk, when he felt the first blow come down on his bare ass, heard the smack, felt the wind rush up as her arm was raised again for a second one and the heat and pain sprang from his reddening skin as the breath was sucked out of him, only then did the hammering of his breaking heart begin to still, to slow. He turned slightly to see her face. It was a mask of calm. But for the glassy sheen of tears welling in her eyes.
And he willed her: harder. Hit me harder. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.
Chapter 1
‘A typical victim of sexual harassment,’ he was saying confidently, just before the madness began, ‘is someone in a subordinate position. Perhaps an immigrant or someone in a first job.’
A noise in the back of the room, the sound of the door to the conference room opening and closing, caused his colleagues to turn around. They all watched as she entered and the air in the room changed.
‘I sincerely apologise for being tardy,’ she said, a warm, wide smile on her face. ‘There was an accident on the highway that detained me unavoidably.’ She walked to the front of the room. ‘I’m glad you were able to get started in my absence.’
He knew nothing about women’s fashion but he recognised quality and elegance in a woman’s business suit when he saw them. That she could combine those characteristics with complete professionalism and not-a-hair-out-of-place fastidiousness in her grooming was his first indication of who she was. There was more there too, right from the beginning. A heat. The way the suit glided snugly over her curves, like she could have made the decision to go a little bigger but then the material wouldn’t pull in just the slightest way, suggesting as it did that her luscious figure could barely be contained, that it was waiting, like a predatory animal, to spring out at a moment’s notice. But he shoved that out of his mind like the completely wrong thought at the completely wrong time that it was.
He felt the slightest stirring of unease for a millisecond as she put out her hand to introduce herself. He was not usually intimidated by beautiful women. But something about her – glossy auburn hair all swept up in a surprisingly old-fashioned chignon away from emerald eyes that seemed to look right into his brain; gorgeous, flawless ivory skin over cheekbones so exquisite – made him unusually ashamed of his own geekiness. Normally he wore his geekdom like a badge of honour. But in the face of her perfection he was briefly transported back to high school, aware of his average clothes, his average shoes, his average hair. She was not even the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. He usually went for the petite blonde type. She was all curves, very Marilyn Monroe, but with that hair the colour of fire. Embarrassingly the phrase ‘va va voom’ ran through his head.
But then he took her hand, slim and soft in his own, and the way she smiled so easily at him made his unease flutter away, swept off like threatening clouds blown by an easy wind on a summer day.
‘I can take it from here,’ she said, bringing out an iPad from a smooth leather handbag and plugging it into the projector with deft hands.
When, after an hour, they broke for coffee, she approached him, off to the side of the conference room. ‘Thanks again for getting the workshop started. I hope you’re happy with how we’ve customised the visual presentation so far,’ she said.
‘It looks great,’ he said.
‘I’ve got some things I need to go over with you. Mostly just confirming the content of the upper management workshop. The biggest difference is the liability issues. We won’t get into much detail about that at this level.’
As she spoke he became aware of something else: he could smell her.
Not perfume. There was none of that. And not soap. There was that, yes, she was certainly immaculately clean, he thought. But it was something more. Something compellingly feminine. Human. Base. Images of the ocean washed through him and a thousand pictures of flowers blooming, opening their petals, flicked through his mind. His dick stirred. He felt a slight heat in his face.
‘So if I could come and see you in your office after we wrap up here,’ she was saying.
Talk now, he told himself, realising she was staring at him, waiting. ‘Sure. Yeah, yeah, sure. That’s … fine. Good. Um, I’m on third, with legal actually, though I’m not really with legal, still doing client work, just for now it’s easier with the whole sexual harassment policy thing happening, while I get this in place, after everything, well, you know about that. Just, since I chair the committee I, um, I …’ God. He wasn’t making any sense. He was trying to keep talking to hopefully distract her attention from the fact that he was now staring at her shoes.
Heels. Black patent. Sexy as fuck. Open-toed with her pretty red nails peeping out of the top. She caught him looking and he blushed and stopped talking. But then she smiled at him. A slow, sly smile. He saw a light go on in her eyes and in an instant he understood that she knew him. She saw what he was exactly.
* * *
‘Just a few closing remarks,’ he said in front of his colleagues as she unplugged her iPad and settled herself into a chair in the front row. ‘I’d like to thank Ms Joan Halliwell for her presentation today.’ Light applause. She sat back and unfastened the top two buttons of her suit jacket. ‘And thank you for your participation here today to learn about what we, at X Architects, consider to be an extremely important subject. Before we end for today I’d just like to echo Ms Halliwell’s final thoughts –’ he started. But as he spoke there was a tiny clattering noise that drew his attention. She had dropped her pen on the floor. When she reached down to pick it up her suit jacket fell open and he was suddenly uniquely privy to the plain fact that under her finely tailored and completely professional suit jacket she wore only a skimpy, lacy, midnight-black bra. The skin of her breasts, almost translucent and glowing against the black lace, threatened a wardrobe malfunction the likes of which would have made Janet Jackson’s little stunt seem like Romper Room.
Kyoko Church
Imagine an average guy with a wife, a job, average house, average car, average sex life… Well, not exactly. He has a secret he finds so embarrassing that he never talks to anyone about it. And then one day he meets her…Kyoko Church’s ‘For Her Pleasure’ is an intensely kinky read perfect for those lusting after more than ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’An architect chairs the newly formed Sexual Harassment in the Workplace Committee. When the consultant he hires to help him organize the new committee turns out to be a red haired bombshell, he tries to rein in his untoward thoughts.But when she uncovers his embarrassing little secrets, this married man ends up in a relationship that’s so wrong on every level of his carefully put together life.How long will he let his burning carnal desires threaten everything he’s worked so hard for?
For Her Pleasure
Kyoko Church
(http://www.mischiefbooks.com)
Table of Contents
Title Page (#u74a36c34-cdf6-57bf-b5f7-2e9c29a6f67a)
Prologue (#u92a76562-19f5-5c90-8ee0-956386bc2eab)
Chapter 1 (#u35b33244-04fd-5b82-8d22-ff87a1c70395)
Chapter 2 (#u31d82a5f-3c28-5c05-a18b-50f9518047be)
Chapter 3 (#u3dc28254-f158-5615-b692-07faef2ff6ef)
Chapter 4 (#ua801faf4-a423-504f-b6e4-b987bbad7ff8)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
More from Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
About Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
‘Sweet –’ Mistress started. But he saw her flinch. And his heart died a little. ‘Paul, there’s no such thing as truth,’ she said.
He didn’t disagree. He remembered, now, his place. He kept his subbie mouth shut.
This is what she’d been teaching him. In the human psyche there is no such thing as truth, only perspective. She understood that a person can have a secret, something he thinks is ugly. So he hides it from view, tucks it away, only visits it in secret, on weekends and then only to torture himself, like picking at a scab. But she saw the glimmer of it. So she plucked it out, dusted it off. Turned it a hair to the left. And stood back for him to see. Waited for him to realise: the thing he most hated, he could actually love.
She taught him that. She gave him that gift.
And then he betrayed her.
‘Take these keys and unlock that cabinet.’ Her emerald eyes flashed with a thousand storms behind them. Only yesterday they shone with her laughter. That he was responsible made him want to crumble to the floor.
Obediently he took the keys. The cabinet she was motioning to was in the corner, mahogany to match the other furniture in her office. He’d never noticed it before.
He opened it. And gasped. But then he knew. And suddenly, unaccountably, shockingly he was consumed with want, with need. A new need. A dark one.
‘You pick which one –’ her voice, coming from behind him, was taut with barely contained rage ‘– slut. And bring it to me.’
Knees trembling, he chose a wooden paddle. Its wood was also dark and polished to a high sheen. It looked like an oar with most of the handle cut off. There was a leather tie running through a hole in the top of the short handle from which it hung in the cabinet next to other tools.
When he was naked, when he was prostrated over her desk, when he felt the first blow come down on his bare ass, heard the smack, felt the wind rush up as her arm was raised again for a second one and the heat and pain sprang from his reddening skin as the breath was sucked out of him, only then did the hammering of his breaking heart begin to still, to slow. He turned slightly to see her face. It was a mask of calm. But for the glassy sheen of tears welling in her eyes.
And he willed her: harder. Hit me harder. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.
Chapter 1
‘A typical victim of sexual harassment,’ he was saying confidently, just before the madness began, ‘is someone in a subordinate position. Perhaps an immigrant or someone in a first job.’
A noise in the back of the room, the sound of the door to the conference room opening and closing, caused his colleagues to turn around. They all watched as she entered and the air in the room changed.
‘I sincerely apologise for being tardy,’ she said, a warm, wide smile on her face. ‘There was an accident on the highway that detained me unavoidably.’ She walked to the front of the room. ‘I’m glad you were able to get started in my absence.’
He knew nothing about women’s fashion but he recognised quality and elegance in a woman’s business suit when he saw them. That she could combine those characteristics with complete professionalism and not-a-hair-out-of-place fastidiousness in her grooming was his first indication of who she was. There was more there too, right from the beginning. A heat. The way the suit glided snugly over her curves, like she could have made the decision to go a little bigger but then the material wouldn’t pull in just the slightest way, suggesting as it did that her luscious figure could barely be contained, that it was waiting, like a predatory animal, to spring out at a moment’s notice. But he shoved that out of his mind like the completely wrong thought at the completely wrong time that it was.
He felt the slightest stirring of unease for a millisecond as she put out her hand to introduce herself. He was not usually intimidated by beautiful women. But something about her – glossy auburn hair all swept up in a surprisingly old-fashioned chignon away from emerald eyes that seemed to look right into his brain; gorgeous, flawless ivory skin over cheekbones so exquisite – made him unusually ashamed of his own geekiness. Normally he wore his geekdom like a badge of honour. But in the face of her perfection he was briefly transported back to high school, aware of his average clothes, his average shoes, his average hair. She was not even the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. He usually went for the petite blonde type. She was all curves, very Marilyn Monroe, but with that hair the colour of fire. Embarrassingly the phrase ‘va va voom’ ran through his head.
But then he took her hand, slim and soft in his own, and the way she smiled so easily at him made his unease flutter away, swept off like threatening clouds blown by an easy wind on a summer day.
‘I can take it from here,’ she said, bringing out an iPad from a smooth leather handbag and plugging it into the projector with deft hands.
When, after an hour, they broke for coffee, she approached him, off to the side of the conference room. ‘Thanks again for getting the workshop started. I hope you’re happy with how we’ve customised the visual presentation so far,’ she said.
‘It looks great,’ he said.
‘I’ve got some things I need to go over with you. Mostly just confirming the content of the upper management workshop. The biggest difference is the liability issues. We won’t get into much detail about that at this level.’
As she spoke he became aware of something else: he could smell her.
Not perfume. There was none of that. And not soap. There was that, yes, she was certainly immaculately clean, he thought. But it was something more. Something compellingly feminine. Human. Base. Images of the ocean washed through him and a thousand pictures of flowers blooming, opening their petals, flicked through his mind. His dick stirred. He felt a slight heat in his face.
‘So if I could come and see you in your office after we wrap up here,’ she was saying.
Talk now, he told himself, realising she was staring at him, waiting. ‘Sure. Yeah, yeah, sure. That’s … fine. Good. Um, I’m on third, with legal actually, though I’m not really with legal, still doing client work, just for now it’s easier with the whole sexual harassment policy thing happening, while I get this in place, after everything, well, you know about that. Just, since I chair the committee I, um, I …’ God. He wasn’t making any sense. He was trying to keep talking to hopefully distract her attention from the fact that he was now staring at her shoes.
Heels. Black patent. Sexy as fuck. Open-toed with her pretty red nails peeping out of the top. She caught him looking and he blushed and stopped talking. But then she smiled at him. A slow, sly smile. He saw a light go on in her eyes and in an instant he understood that she knew him. She saw what he was exactly.
* * *
‘Just a few closing remarks,’ he said in front of his colleagues as she unplugged her iPad and settled herself into a chair in the front row. ‘I’d like to thank Ms Joan Halliwell for her presentation today.’ Light applause. She sat back and unfastened the top two buttons of her suit jacket. ‘And thank you for your participation here today to learn about what we, at X Architects, consider to be an extremely important subject. Before we end for today I’d just like to echo Ms Halliwell’s final thoughts –’ he started. But as he spoke there was a tiny clattering noise that drew his attention. She had dropped her pen on the floor. When she reached down to pick it up her suit jacket fell open and he was suddenly uniquely privy to the plain fact that under her finely tailored and completely professional suit jacket she wore only a skimpy, lacy, midnight-black bra. The skin of her breasts, almost translucent and glowing against the black lace, threatened a wardrobe malfunction the likes of which would have made Janet Jackson’s little stunt seem like Romper Room.
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