Free Not That Kind of Girl by Susan Donovan Page A

over.
    “You’re fired,” he told the disobedient Ricky.
    “Whaa—” she choked. “But … what did you just say, Mr. Sandberg?”
    “I said you’re fired.” Raymond tossed the camera to the leather inlay surface of his desk and rather jauntily circumvented his office suite, as if deep in thought. He headed for the door and put his hand on the knob. “Get out.”
    Ricky or Randy or whatever her name was, bless her little feminine soul, started to cry. She was sputtering and spewing and whimpering and her emotional implosion was just the kind he preferred—all helpless limbs and big, scared eyes.
    Raymond let his shoulders droop dramatically and nodded, as if he’d reached a difficult decision. He crossed over to where she stood on her three-inch heels, looking a bit shaky. He slid a hand around that firm waist and let it slide along the curve of her perfect hip. With his other hand he gestured for her to sit on the sofa.
    Once he got her snuggled up in the cushions, he joined her. Then he reached into his pants pocket for a clean, starched, monogrammed handkerchief, and noticed his dick was harder than Chinese calculus.
    “You are a very intelligent and capable young woman, Randy,” he murmured, insisting she take his hanky. “I chose you to be my assistant because I saw great potential in you. But the way you just spoke to me is unacceptable. Do you understand that?”
    She nodded, dabbing at the mascara pooling under her eyes. She looked like a twelve-year-old kid who’d just been yanked into the principal’s office.
    How perfect. He wanted to rip her clothes off.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Sandberg,” she said, sniffling. “Please give me another chance. I … I just get a little woozy at the sight of blood, that’s all. I thought I was going to help with litigation when you hired me to be your assistant. You know, do legal research and draft briefs and stuff. I guess I got mad that you called me in here just to take pictures of your dog bite.”
    Raymond chuckled softly. He reached up and stroked her curls. She flinched, but just barely. He smiled at her, noticing how she’d started to breathe fast. He watched those luscious tits move under her blouse.
    “Randy, I am this firm. This is my creation. Sandberg and Associates would not exist if it weren’t for my reputation and skill. I am king here.”
    She nodded.
    “Your entire future is in my hands. If I like the work you do, you’re set for life. I may even hire you right out of Stanford Law as an associate. Someday you could even be a partner! But if I’m not pleased …” Raymond trailed his fingers down to her collarbone. He watched her eyes flash, but she didn’t move away. This was all very promising. “If I’m not pleased, I’ll fire you. For real next time. And I’ll make your life a living hell if you try to practice law in this town.”
    She gasped. But it was a small gasp. She’d obviously tried to suppress it.
    “If you are to be my assistant, you will remember all that I’ve just explained to you, and you will afford me the respect I deserve. Do you understand?” Raymond let his hand fall to the top button of her blouse, and he insinuated a finger down into her cleavage. Her mouth dropped open.
    “Well, do you?” he repeated.
    “Yes,” she said meekly.
    “And, should there ever be any kind of unpleasant misunderstanding between us, no one would ever take your word over mine. The idea is laughable.”
    She stared at him, but he knew she got the message.
    “Good.” Raymond removed his hand from between her perfect tits and then gave her knee a friendly pat. He stood up and smiled at her. She looked baffled. Once more, her mouth hung open.
    Raymond liked the view from where he stood, looking down on her young, pretty, confused face—and open mouth. It wouldn’t be long before she spent most of her time on her knees exactly like this, with his dick between her lips. Just like all his other assistants.
    “How would you