Free Soft Skills by Cleo Peitsche Page B

checked herself out in the mirrored elevator on the way up from the lobby. She always did.
    When she looked up, Cunningham, head tilted, stared at her. What he was thinking, she couldn’t begin to imagine.  
    He opened a drawer and dropped the puzzle box in. Then he closed the drawer and rose. The room was perfectly quiet.  
    He came around the desk and stood behind her chair. Elle faced forward and tried to pace her breathing so that she didn’t hyperventilate and pass out.
    “Stand.”
    Elle found her feet and awaited his next order. A glimmer of hope flickered through her; if Cunningham was going to touch her, then she wasn’t getting fired.
    “I had certain expectations for you,” he said. “They weren’t low expectations, but they weren’t impossibly high.”
    She tensed, praying to hear his zipper come down. Instead, his fingers grazed the small of her back. Elle shivered, her eyes closing.
    “Come with me.” He removed his hand.
    He wasn’t touching her. He wasn’t touching her! She was getting fired. But not without a fight. She whirled around. “You said I had until the end of the month to set up the meeting. Why are you firing me?”
    Cunningham stepped close to her, forcing her to crane her neck to make eye contact with him. With his dark brown eyes, tan skin and dark hair, he was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. All that, wrapped in an aura of mysteriousness and confidence.
    “Did I say you were fired?”
    “Jonathan—”  
    “Did Jonathan say you were fired?”
    Elle frowned. He hadn’t. Cunningham was staring at her, and he expected an answer. “No.”
    The door swung open and Jonathan entered.  
    “And what did Jonathan say?” Cunningham asked.
    “He said he was disappointed.”
    One of Jonathan’s eyebrows crept up. “I told you that she’s too sensitive for this. Look at her quaking like a bunny rabbit surrounded by a pack of wolves.” He sighed and glanced at his watch. “By the way, we’ve got ten minutes.”
    Nolan entered. “The main conference room just emptied. We’re the only ones still here.”
    Cunningham grabbed Elle’s wrist and dragged her into the hallway. He set off, taking big, sure strides, pulling Elle along behind him. She was completely confused. She was too sensitive? What did Jonathan mean?
    They reached the main conference room. One hand on the flat of her shoulder blade, the other on her hip, Cunningham bent her over the large table. The edge of the table bit uncomfortably into her upper thigh. The wood was warm under her cheek, and smelled like polish.
    “We’ll discuss your procrastination with the family meeting later. Do you remember what I told you the day I hired you?”
    He’d told her a lot of things. “Um…”
    “You need to work on your confidence. Stick up for yourself. Your work goes well, that’s great. But suppose the client hadn’t loved what you presented? If instead of calling you a genius, they—”
    “How did you know—” Elle blurted before she could stop herself.  
    “Jonathan, do me a favor?”
    “Got it,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly.  
    Cunningham spun her to face him. “On your knees.”
    Elle gracefully knelt, feet tucked underneath her, knees together, hands folded in her lap. She looked up at her three lovers.
    Jonathan unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Long and thick, it never failed to make her mouth water. Just looking at it was enough to set her pussy aching.
    A drop of fluid beaded at the swollen tip. He touched it to her lips and pulled back. “Lick your lips.”
    She did. The slightly salty taste of him stirred up fond memories. With a smile, she blinked innocently at him as she slowly flicked the tip of her tongue over her mouth. Playing the coquette never failed to get Jonathan’s attention.
    “Open wide,” Cunningham barked. He shoved his fingers into her mouth and forced her to comply. He held her like that until Jonathan surged in. “Suck him, girl,” Cunningham rasped