His To Own by Elena Black

to him personally or he had a decent shot at winning.
    "Enlighten me," Laney huffed.
    "No," he said firmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "In fact," he added, reaching out to lock his door, "I'm done answering to you. It's time for you to deal with the consequences of your actions."
    "What consequences?" she asked. "And why won't you tell me--"
    "Enough," he said, and his tone left no room for argument. "You've interrupted my work and questioned my judgment. That's not exactly the performance of a good assistant, is it?"
    "I…" She looked genuinely flummoxed, her righteous fury draining out of her as the reality of her actions filtered in. A look of muted horror crossed her face and he bit back a smile. As annoying as he found being questioned, there was something about the passion Laney had, the fearlessness in confronting him that was endearing. She was a spitfire, but in other ways, so wonderfully malleable he felt as though he could spend the rest of his life happily ping ponging between the difference sides of her.
    "I'll tell you exactly what it is," he continued, recognizing he'd likely rendered her speechless. "It's the behavior of a naughty girl who needs to be punished."
    ##
    Laney was speechless. She'd had such a clear picture of what she needed to say to him, how much he deserved to be told off, she forgot that in their relationship - in most of his day to day relationships - Michael held all the cards. Not only that, but he knew exactly how to play them, how to play her , to get exactly what he wanted. Even as she told herself to slap him, to walk out of the room, to call this little game between them off, Laney was powerless to resist him. The spell he wove over her was too intense, she desired it too much. Even if he didn't want her the way she wanted him.
    "Down on your knees," he instructed smoothly. She hesitated and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me tell you twice."
    Laney felt like she was outside her body, watching this scene unfold from afar. Surely that wasn't her, sinking to her knees because a man - her boss - told her to. A man she'd vowed not to share her body with again because he felt nothing for her beyond the physical gratification.
    Oh, but it was so incredibly gratifying. Images of their last encounter - the desk digging into her ass, the powerful way he moved inside her, his mouth leaving delicate little marks on her shoulders and collarbones, marks she would gently trace later, as she fell asleep alone in her bed, feeling somehow used and cherished at the same time.
    "Hands and knees," he added, and though she still didn't know why, Laney obeyed him. It was as if she were incapable of anything else.
    "Look at you," he said, moving behind her. "I see you've worn slacks today. I'd advise against that. Incredibly difficult to maneuver in a pinch. Plus, I like looking at your legs."
    His hands were at her hips and where she'd thought he might gentle his touch, he did the opposite. He pulled roughly at her pants, tugging until they were at her knees. He did the same with her panties, then spread her legs as far as they would go with the material bunched just below her thighs. His thumbs stroked up the backs of her thighs, firm, commanding pressure until he reached her ass. He spread her cheeks apart, the lips of her pussy, not trying to pleasure her, to arouse; he seemed to be touching her this way simply because he could.
    Laney was gushing, embarrassed at how wet his unconcerned touch made her.
    "Remember," he cautioned, "This is punishment. I won't be gentle."
    He was inside her a second later. She hadn't even heard him undress. Michael was true to his word: he wasn't gentle; his fingers dug into her hips, holding her in place, and his hips met her ass with a series of fast, deep thrusts. No, he wasn't gentle, but it was far from punishing. Laney felt invigorated, wanted to move back against him, but the clothing around her legs and his restraining grip on her hips made it