Free Forbidden To Say No - The Billionaire's Plaything (An Erotic Romance Novel) by Ashley Spector Page B

of the room; a dark marble color, and undoubtedly very expensive.
    "Under there" he tersely commands. I follow his instruction wordlessly, picking my bags up, before pushing them beneath the table, one by one. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, willing me to join them. I don't even have the chance to register my surprise, before he forces me beneath the desk too, one palm across my back, and the other upon my head. I do as he wishes, crouching beneath it, bathing myself in darkness. What the fuck is this ?
    "Uhm, Daniel?"
    "Sorry sweetheart," he replies, stamping around the room anxiously, all of a sudden overwhelmed by an unusual force of vigor. Ordinarily I'd hate a guy calling me 'sweetheart'. This time, the word sails past me without nuisance. "I guess you want to know why you're hiding under my table huh?"
    It would be nice. I poke my head out from underneath, and nod to him graciously.
    "A meeting," he says, glancing at his watch - a rather modest, leather-strapped black-faced artifact I hadn't seen before - and pacing back to sit at the desk above me. "I hope you don't mind, I'm meeting a few executives here in a matter of minutes. Of course, you're not invited."
    What the hell!? Why am I stationed beneath the boardroom's table, trying my hardest to remain quiet and motionless, while my billionaire boss wines and dines the cream of Hollywood executives above? I should stop trying to make sense of Daniel's various eccentricities. I'll only make my head hurt. A brisk knock at the door startles me from my contemplation, and I jump upwards, hitting the back of my head on the marble surface above. I quickly retreat deeper beneath the table, unwilling to see the sly grin undoubtedly upon his face, and take the softly rustling plastic bags with me, somehow managing to fit the curtain rail beside me.
    "Daniel, Hi," I hear a quietly timid vice say, followed by a slightly more assertive one, deeper-pitched than even my boss' "Good morning Mr. Grant"
    "Good morning gentlemen."
    They exchange pleasantries, as I try to calm myself down, occupying the darkness like the filthy stowaway I am. Slowly, one set of legs appears in the dimly lit space between the table surface and floor, followed by another, and finally, Daniel's immaculately dapper pants. They’re soon seated across from each other, maybe six feet apart. I've got plenty of room under here; so long as I don't bang my head again, lose my mind to anxiety, or suffer the heart attack my rambunctiously noisy heart has been threatening all this time, I'll be fine. Surely .
    That is, until I see Daniel motioning beneath the table; an outstretched finger, gesturing for me to approach, like you might allure a dog. I watch him for a moment, before his motioning becomes faster, and more impatient. Overhead they're talking nonsense - finances, location costs, merchandising values - and rightly, nothing could be further from my mind right now.
    I inch towards him, propelling myself on my hands and knees, taking every precaution not to jolt anyone's foot, or make even the tiniest sound. When I arrive before him, kneeling in front of him subserviently on my hands and knees, still comfortably seated in darkness, I begin to see what this is all about. It's dark; the only light being that which streams from the windows, piercing through the short space between the floor and the bottom of the table, but I can definitely make out two fingers surreptitiously unfastening the button on his black pants, revealing to me the familiar contents within. Daniel Grant, you horny, manipulative bastard !
    I gasp, before covering my mouth with my palm in dread, as I watch his semi-erect member come into view beneath the table. What does he want me to do ?! As I ponder that question with wide eyes and shocked sensibilities he very kindly answers it for me, reaching beneath the table with his hand and finding an errant lock of my hair, before violently pulling me towards him. I have to stop myself