L I Z Z I E
10 | date
Mr. Pierce's choice of place to have dinner has me gaping when he forces me to come with him after office hours are over. The man had the audacity to blackmail me by saying that he would make me work on weekends too if I didn't.
He drives himself, stopping the car near a small diner I have never been to before. I stare at the flimsy board it has overhead where it is written in neon, bold letters 'Fill Belly'.
Mr. Pierce is pushing his blazer off his shoulder the moment we pull in the parking lot.
He sees me staring at him and gives a wink knowing that I am checking him out. God help me, I can't stop myself whenever I see the flexing of his muscles. His white shirt is made of cotton, the fitting so perfect that it traces the shape of his body.
"Don't you dare tell anyone that we came here. This place has delicious food but should remain between us."
"Why is that?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest. "What makes a billionaire like you come to have dinner in a small diner across the street?"
As he places his blazer in the backseat, a look of strange reminiscence crosses his eyes. It is only for a split second but doesn't go unnoticed by me.
"I used to come here with my Dad," he says, seeming to find it difficult to mention the person. "This used to be our Saturday hangout."
"Oh..."
I have little knowledge of his father. Of all the information I have been given about his family, his father wasn't mentioned much except for the fact that he had died ten years ago in a car accident.
Mr. Pierce gets out of his Audi with all the opulent body language of a billionaire as he stands to his tall height. I open the door of my side, stepping down from the car in my high heels.
I see him busy folding his sleeves up to his elbows as I walk around the car to come to stand by him. His corded veins become visible, the platinum watch on his wrist shining as the neon light of the diner board catches it.
"Let's go in."
He gives me his arm and I touch it gently, letting him guide me towards the entrance of the diner.
Inside, we step into a quiet place with a few customers. The soft, yellow lights are fixed to the ceiling and the diner itself is small, with only a few round tables in every corner and a larger one at the center. The counter is on the opposite side where a man who looks about the age of fifty is checking in the orders.
His face is all hard lines covered by a trimmed white beard. The man is stout but tall. From afar, he looks tough, like someone who wouldn't speak to you except with direct words.
"Working overtime, Paul?" Mr. Pierce asks the man who instantly lifts his head from whatever he was focused on doing.
His grumpy expression breaks, replaced by an amicable smile when he spots Mr. Pierce and me.
"Oh my Goodness...is it really you!?" the man exclaims in a high-pitched voice, stepping out of the counter.
"It is me, old man." Mr. Pierce grins as the man comes to pull him into a hug that makes my eyes widen.
"Ah! Look how you've grown. I still remember the little boy who used to come here with Marcus." Paul pulls away from Mr. Pierce, giving him a surprisingly kind glance. "I thought you forgot me, boy. It's been seven years."
"I didn't forget you, Paul. Just got a little busy after..." Mr. Pierce stops, communicating with his eyes what his tongue wouldn't speak.
"Yeah, I heard. Terrible how Marcus left so young..." Paul notices me while speaking and raises both his eyebrows. "And who is this pretty lady?"
"Hi," I say, smiling widely at the man. "I'm Mr. Pierce's—"
"Girlfriend," Mr. Pierce completes for me, quickly wrapping an arm around my waist.
His fingers rest on my hip, curling around in a possessive grip. His arm is strong, preventing my movements as I feel the warmth of his hand meeting my skin through my clothes.
I look at him with my mouth parted. "I'm not your girlfriend!"
"Soon to be," he says, looking at Paul with a boyish grin that makes his dimples show.
I feel a flip in my stomach when he smiles. He looks so damn cute and hot all the time. Meanwhile, I am already tired after the hours of work at the office today and after having kissed him that wildly in the conference room. I have been replaying the kiss all day, taking a peek at his lips to see if they are as swollen as mine.
"Oh!" Paul remarks. "Great! Great! Come in then. To your usual seat, right Ryan?"
"Yep."
Hearing him call Mr. Pierce by his first name sounds strange to my ears, especially when all Mr. Pierce does is smile and guide me with him. We follow Paul to a round, corner table at the back of the counter with two chairs placed on both sides.
Mr. Pierce pulls my seat for me much to my amusement and after I am seated, he sits on the other side. I pick up the menu, taking a look at what might be cheap dishes for him but what for me are not. The menu is laminated, categorizing the meager amount of dishes into different columns.
"What would you like?" Paul asks me, taking a notebook out from his pocket and pressing the tip of his pen on a blank page.
"Hmm..." I pull at my bottom lip, scanning through the contents and the prices making my head swim.
Am I supposed to pay for this? But shouldn't he be the one paying since he literally forced me to come here? I haven't received my salary yet and won't be till my thirty days are over. For all I know, I could have gone home and made myself an omelet.
"I'll just take the soup," I say.
"Oh...okay..." Paul murmurs, turning to Mr. Pierce. "And you, Ryan?"
"The usual, Paul. Waffles. Bring for the lady too."
He hands the menu over to Paul who walks away after nodding. When he is far out from our hearing vicinity, I lean forward, annoyed by the arrogant billionaire sitting across from me.
"Hey! I don't have the money yet to pay for this stuff. It's expensive!"
"It's one of the cheapest diners in the city, Miss. Gold," Mr. Pierce states. "And besides...I would need you to be in your peak state when we fuck tonight."
His straight countenance as he drops the words has me in awe of the man. He seems to be prepared for everything. No wonder he has such bastard enemies. He seems to have a knack for pissing people off.
How can he just assume I would sleep with him after only a dinner? Is he crazy or too overconfident?
I am not the kind of person who goes around sleeping with people. Most of the time, my only company is my vibrator. I have only slept with five people in my life and only one of them was worth my time.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not fucking you, Mr. Pierce."
"You will, Miss. Gold, and I assure you, you'll find me quite to your taste."
"Mr. Pierce!" I chide him, looking around the diner to see if anyone heard his despicable words. "You're my boss. What makes you think I would be putting my career in jeopardy just for your...taste?"
"It has everything to do with your career. In fact, I would say that the most important thing you can do right now is me." He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he lowers his voice. "You and I both know that it's difficult to work in each other's presence. We need to get rid of the tension between us for better performance, Miss. Gold. If anything, it's very important for your career that we fuck."
His words send a line of visions swimming in my head as I recall the dream I had about him and me fucking on his desk. I squeeze my thighs, feeling a tingle in my sweet spot, knowing that even if my mind is thinking straight, my pussy is all ready to welcome his proposal.
"You're presumptuous," I declare, leaning back in my seat.
"Am I, Miss. Gold? So you mean to say that you really don't consider us fucking as a means of better workplace performance?"
"No."
"So you're fine with both of us burning in this desire?"
"We're not burning with desire."
"Aren't we? So you're telling me you never dreamed about riding my cock ever since we met?"
He pushes his glasses up his nose, the sexy eyes behind the frames making me ache between my legs more.
"Mr. Pierce, I am your employee. In case you're forgetting."
"And I'm your boss, which means you do as I say. We're already on this date, Lizzie. I'm giving you a chance to get to know me before I make you mine."
"I'm not yours," I return with an unamused glance. "I only belong to myself, Mr. Pierce. It might do you good to know that."
He stares at me, focusing his blue eyes on studying me and I squirm under his gaze, feeling him eye-fucking me with just that stare.
"Miss. Gold..." he speaks in a deep baritone after a while. "You're fucking beautiful and I'm an admirer of all things such. If you think you can deny me that easily, you're wrong."
"What are you implying?" I ask, lips shaking when I find his gaze dropping to my mouth.
He lifts a corner of his lips to a sly smirk, reaching forward to twirl a strand of my hair around his finger.
"Deny all you want, Miss. Gold. At the end of the night, I'll have you screaming my name. That's my promise to you."