Her Secret Santa

Chapter Sixteen

CLARA

“ H ow are you settling in so far?” Heidi asks, a kind smile on her face.

She’s so good at her job, seemingly always ten steps ahead of the schedule and thinking about a million things before they come up. It’s been a little intimidating to see the scope of what she does, especially knowing that I’m expected to pick up at least some of this. I know her role isn’t what I’ll be doing long-term, but I want to be good at it while I do it.

“You’ve made things really easy so far,” I tell her honestly. “I’m almost halfway through the in-office guides.”

She rounds the small, but surprisingly sturdy desk she set me up at in her office to lean over my shoulder. Squared-framed glasses sit on her nose as she scans over the computer screen, nodding sharply. She offered to print the guides out for me several times, and judging by the stacks of paper files that sit in neat stacks on the shelves, I’d say she’s probably more the pen and paper type. It’s not surprising, considering I’d guess she’s nearing seventy, but I find it charming.

“More than halfway,” she says approvingly. “You’ll be done by this afternoon. Take lunch for now, and when you finish, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the graphic design team.”

She took me by this morning to meet the head of the department, a bubbly blond man named Laike who looked like he was barely out of college but swore he was almost forty. I think I’ll fit in really well in his department.

Once I actually get there, at least.

“Thank you.” I glance back at the document I’m reading through, making sure I know where I am in case it reloads while I’m gone. “Could you show me where the staff room is? I missed it on my way in this morning.”

I was so nervous about being late on my first day—and one of the only days I’m actually expected to be in the office during my training period—that I got here almost an hour early and sat in my car until I saw employees file into the building.

“Did HR not schedule a tour with you?” Heidi asks, a small frown on her face. “I asked them to show you around when you came by with your laptop.”

“Oh, everyone was just so busy when I came by,” I say nervously. The last thing I want is to get someone in trouble. “I’m sure the holidays keep everyone in a bind, but it’s no problem to go explore a bit myself!”

Picking out my laptop and bringing it by to get programmed felt like a dream. I tried to get something a little more budget friendly, but the employees said that my boss expected me to get one of five models, all of which were top-of-the-line and cost way more than I’ve ever spent on anything in my life.

“No need for that,” Heidi says, standing and brushing out the creases in her skirt. “I’d be happy to give you a proper tour, if you’d like.”

I’m still in shock at even being here, and the thought of following around someone who’s been in the company for decades is more than a little daunting. A plain but elegant skirt sits just above her knee, a perfectly pressed blue linen shirt tucked in at the waist.

I feel underwhelming in the slacks and button down I’m wearing, although at least I feel like my hair looks good. I spent more time than usual taming the blonde tresses into a neat ponytail, the few strands that aren’t long enough to put up curled subtly to frame my face.

They look nice, and they’re in good shape, but I feel like everyone can tell they’re secondhand. I’m still wearing the plain black flats I wore at the diner because even with my pay increase, buying new clothes just isn’t at the top of my priorities. It usually doesn’t bother me, but surrounded by so much corporate sterility, I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe once the holidays are over and I’m in the office full time, I’ll have to shop for some more work-appropriate pieces. Some of the thrift stores in Manhattan have really good quality clothes that would blend right in here.

“I’d love that.” I’m here for a reason, even if I may not understand why they picked me . I’m not going to focus on my insecurities when I have an opportunity like this. “It would be nice to get a feel for the rest of the office.”

“We’ll start at the break room, then,” she says, a kind smile on her face.

I stand and push my chair in, then smooth out the creases in my slacks. They’re a little loose on me, but I like the blue-gray color of them. They make me feel professional. Allie says they bring out the blue of my eyes, and I trust her fashion sense much more than my own.

Heidi heads toward the door, and I move to follow her, but a sharp knock sounds before we get there. It swings open before Heidi has a chance to extend an invitation, a broad shouldered man standing in the doorway.

His hair is inky black, styled in a way that’s so casually windswept it has to be intentional. It brushes over the tops of his ears, framing sharp cheekbones and a sharper jawline, but it’s his eyes that make me pause. It’s not the surprise in those eyes, nor the way long, dark lashes flutter as they rake over me.

They just seem so… familiar . I have no idea why—they’re so dark they look black, and I feel like I’d remember if I’d ever seen them before.

But something in my gut tightens when he meets my eyes and a muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Can I do something for you, Zade?” Heidi asks.

The sound of her voice breaks us out of our impromptu staring match, and I blink in confusion when he focuses his gaze on her. Losing his attention feels like he’s physically taken something from me, a touch that’s disappeared.

I’ve never reacted like this to someone I just met, and I swallow hard, trying to calm myself down.

Wait. Zade? Zade as in the CEO of Hawthorne Enterprises?

“I need the files from the Greyson acquisition,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Landon thinks there’s a mistake in them.”

“There is a mistake in them.” The voice comes from behind Zade, and a look of pure disgust crosses his face even as he shifts aside to make room for the other man. “The final expenditures aren’t matching up.”

The man behind Zade is shorter, with a shock of red hair and a nasty, smug look in his gaze. I immediately decide I don’t like him. That decision is cemented when his eyes fall on me and his face morphs into a smile that almost passes for charming.

“My apologies, I didn’t realize we had a new face in the office,” he says, shouldering his way past Zade with an outstretched hand. “My name is Landon, I’m the VP of operations.”

There’s not a single part of me that wants to let this man touch me, a gut instinct telling me to stay far away from him, but I grit my teeth and shake his hand anyway. His palm is soft and slightly clammy, and there’s no strength in his wrist.

“Clara.” I introduce myself with a tight smile, pulling my hand away from his as soon as I can. “I’m taking over some of Heidi’s tasks before transferring to the graphic design team.”

“I have a feeling you’ll make a fantastic secretary,” he says with a grin.

It’s an innocuous enough statement, but I can tell from the gleam in his eyes his thoughts are anything but. I can practically see the fantasies of stockings and high heels dancing in his eyes, and I have to fight to keep my face passive.

“Can you not harass my employees, Landon?” Zade bites out, teeth bared in annoyance.

Heidi looks up from where she’s been rifling through a filing cabinet in surprise, glancing between the three of us. Zade is still standing in the doorway, his hands in his suit pockets. He’s the very picture of cool and casual, except for the pure fury blazing in his dark eyes.

“Clara was just heading to lunch,” Heidi says, chipping some of the mounting tension away. “You two take a seat, and we can go over all this now.”

Gratitude washes over me at the obvious out she’s giving me, and I nod in rapid agreement.

“Lovely to meet you both,” I say, rushing toward the door before this Landon guy can try to rope me into any further conversation. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Zade doesn’t move from where he’s standing half in the doorway, and I have to step around him sideways to avoid brushing up against him. He watches me with dark, intense eyes, and I almost stumble at the depth of his gaze. There’s something there that seems so close, something I know, but I can’t put my finger on it.

The feeling fades as soon as I pass him and step out into the hallway, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

I don’t need to be thinking about my—apparently absurdly handsome—boss this much. I have a job to do.

But remembering the way his eyes flashed when he referred to me as his employee sends a shiver down my spine. I have no idea why he seemed so upset about Landon’s weird advances, but I can appreciate the gesture regardless. It’s a little surprising because of everything I’ve heard about him, I didn’t expect him to be so… I don’t know, normal ? I expected more of the sleazy shithead energy I got from Landon, but he seems to be as disdainful of that kind of behavior as I am.

I’ve overthought this plenty for now. It’s time to find the break room.

I still have to figure out something for lunch and finish the rest of my onboarding for the day, and I do have plans for the evening. Heidi has kept me so busy with introductions and onboarding that my mind has hardly had time to wander, but thoughts of my Elite seem to always be in the back of my mind these days. It’ll be soothing to see him tonight and have a chance to let go of all the stress of my first day.

The rest of the day after lunch flies by in a haze of paperwork and introductions. By the time I'm maneuvering the streets out of Manhattan and heading back home toward the Bronx, my head feels stuffed full to the brim. I always knew Hawthorne Enterprises was a big company, but I swear I met at least a million people today. Heidi handled all of them with ease and grace, solving paperwork issues and scheduling errors without batting an eye.

I can't imagine being as good at her job as she is.

The relief of my invitation back to Eternity is like a siren song, a promise of relaxation and a moment to breathe in the quiet of my own submission. My Elite is so good at getting me out of my head, clearing every thought from my mind and just setting me off to float in bliss.

I could definitely use that after the hectic exhaustion of today.

My apartment building is finally completely decked out in Christmas decor, lights twinkling in every window, a fake tree sitting outside the laundry room. I pay all of it little mind as I rush up the stairs toward my front door. Usually, I like to take it all in, soak in the charm of it, but tonight, I just want to be in my Elite’s arms.

I take a quick shower as soon as I get home, careful to keep my hair dry. It just takes too long to dry and style for me to bother with right now. My work clothes lay strewn across my bedroom floor carelessly as I bustle to get all dolled up in the red lingerie and glittery silver dress that was sent along with my invitation.

I'll clean them up tomorrow.

Right now, I just need to get to the club and let my Elite work all of the stress, both good and bad, out of my body.

I take a cab there, vibrating in anticipation as I go through all the steps of entering Eternity. The cool metal of the mask on my face settles me a little, as do the bracelets I stack on my arm, but I don't properly relax until the Floor Master leads me down the stairs and toward my Elite.

He's waiting for me, broad shouldered and grinning as he pulls me into his arms.

The kiss he gives me is blistering, possessive, demanding . I let him take everything he wants, drinking down the taste of lemon liqueur that coats his wicked tongue. The scent of his aftershave is crisp, the familiarity of it making my head go fuzzy. He leads me to a room wordlessly, pinning me to the door and kissing me breathless before he even punches in the code.

We tumble inside together like something out of a racy movie, all grasping hands and muffled moans. His desperation and need for me tonight seem to match my own, and feeling so wanted makes me lightheaded.

He kicks the door shut behind us and lifts me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist with a thrilled gasp, arching into his hands as he shoves my dress up to my hips.

The world blurs as he tosses me down on the bed, pinning me against the sheets with a hand around my throat. He looms between my thighs, a dark shadow above me, and I spread my legs further in a pleading invitation. I want him, all of him.

“Safeword,” he prompts, his voice rough with need.

“Red, Sir.” The words come out without me having to think about them, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist, pressing his hand more firmly against my throat. “Please, I need you. I've been thinking about this all day.”

Something in him seems to snap at that, and his fingers crush down over my carotid. My world immediately goes hazy and soft, and I melt beneath his touch. His other hand rips at the panties he bought me, tearing them down my legs and tossing them aside carelessly. I'm already soaking wet by the time he drags his fingers up over my clit, and I nearly sob in pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans, bending to take my mouth in a quick kiss. “You don't need to think anymore. I'll take care of you.”

He gives me no time to respond before he gets to work on torturing my body. The restricted blood flow to my brain makes everything feel both sluggish and overwhelming, every slick slide of his fingers over my clit world shattering.

My dress never makes it all the way off, bunched up over my hips and shoved down my shoulders to bare my breasts to his mouth.

He lays mean bites beneath my collarbones, bruises blooming immediately. As soon as I get used to that, he switches to my nipples, teasing them relentlessly with lips and teeth and tongue. I can hardly breathe through the pleasure, and he pulls my first orgasm out of me before I even get his fingers inside me.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he croons as I toss my head back on a wail. “Cum for me, that’s a good girl.”

I get no reprieve, no chance to catch my breath. As soon as my orgasm abates, he slides down to replace his finger with his mouth. His hands hold my thighs open as he eats at me like he's starving.

My spine arches at the pressure of his tongue, the perfect scratch of his stubble against my inner thighs.

“Sir, fuck ,” I sob.

I can't stay still, thrashing against the unceasing pleasure coursing through my veins.

“We’ll get there, baby,” he promises with a chuckle.

He doesn't let up for a second, laughing smugly as he pulls another orgasm out of me with his tongue. His fingers slide into my cunt while I'm still shaking, and it's almost enough to make me cum again on its own. The taste of myself on his tongue when he leans up to kiss me again doesn't help me keep my head on straight.

I can do nothing but take it, riding his fingers and moaning into his mouth as he fumbles at his belt with his free hand.

I want his cock inside of me, the imprint of his teeth branded on the side of my throat, his cum leaking out of me at all times. I want more than I could possibly ever have, but right now, as he works me toward another orgasm impossibly fast, my imagination only serves to turn me on further.

My head flies back on an almost agonized shout as another orgasm slams into me. He murmurs adoring praise into the hollow of my throat, never slowing his rhythm.

“You deserve this, baby,” he growls against my skin. “You deserve it all.”

My brain lags, caught between confusion at the words and the unrelenting pleasure battering my body. His fingers are brutal, playing against the spot inside me that has my legs trembling and stars exploding behind my eyelids. I can hardly catch my breath enough to moan, much less understand what he's saying.

“You deserve it,” he repeats, nipping his way up the length of my throat. “Everything good in the world, you deserve it. Let me give it to you. Perfect, pretty, precious little girl. My girl.”

Tears spring to the corners of my eyes, the certainty in his voice catching me off guard. He sounds serious, like he's talking about more than the fourth orgasm he’s pushing me viciously toward.

It's too much for me to comprehend right now. All I can do is nod and quake beneath him in bliss.

“Say it.” He pulls back enough to cup my jaw in his free hand, his fingers pressing in harshly. His eyes are dark and more insistent than I've ever seen them, demanding in an entirely different way than I'm used to. “You're mine . My girl deserves the world; say it. Fucking say it .”

The words tear out of me on a scream, and almost unintelligible babble as his fingers work me right back up toward the edge.

“Yours! Yours, I'm yours, all yours,” I swear, my whole body trembling along with my voice. “I deserve it, deserve you, everything, fuck, fuck !”

Electricity shoots straight through me as my orgasm burns through my veins, an unstoppable wash of pure pleasure. My Elite curses as he watches in awe, encouraging me to ride the wave in soft praises that he whispers into my ear.

“Pretty girl, that’s it,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I need you. Can't wait anymore, sweet thing.”

I couldn't struggle even if I wanted to, so boneless and brainless with pleasure that my Elite has to move me around like a ragdoll. He tosses my legs over his shoulders, practically bending me in half, and then cleaves into me in one slow, slick slide.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the size of him, thick and long and filling me up like nothing else.

I can't put two thoughts together, cum drunk and staring up at him with pure adoration as he stretches me out. He rests his forehead on mine, groaning out his pleasure as he watches my own bliss play out in my eyes. It feels intimate in a way that nothing we’ve done before has, like he really does own me in this moment.

“Good girl,” he huffs, a genuinely pleased smile on his face. “ My good girl.”

He fucks into me, unrelenting and intense. Each thrust is slow, deep, and his eyes never leave mine.

I lose track of how many times I cum on his cock, but he praises me for it each time, tells me I've earned it, how good I'm being. If I could catch my breath past the pleasure, I think I'd still be breathless from the praise.

He holds me close when he finally reaches his own peak, arms wrapped tight around my waist, teeth sunk into my shoulder in a brutal claim. I can hardly muster the energy to even whine when I follow him over the edge one last time, the sensation of his cock throbbing inside me as he fills me up too much for my fucked out brain to ignore.

My consciousness fades as I shudder my way through my final, overwhelming orgasm. The last thing I hear is my Elite’s voice, a proud note to his words.

“That's my good girl,” he whispers. “Perfect fucking girl.”