Chapter 1 (b) – ‘Grumpy Golu'

Chapter 1 (b) – ‘Grumpy Golu’… continued

Bloody hell! I thought to myself for the hundredth time in the last hour. I raced down the darkened hall of the now empty building; the presentation materials clutched haphazardly in my arms, and glanced down at my watch. 7:20. Holy shit, would nothing go right for me today? Mr. Kapoor was going to have my neck. I was twenty minutes late. He hated late. Late was not a word found in the Ram Kapoor jerkhead Dictionary. Along with heart, kindness, compassion or thank you.

I found myself once again plotting the murder of the idiot that worked at Kinko’s. A simple job, that’s all I asked.

Make some copies, and bind some documents. Should have been a piece of cake. In and out. But, no. Two hours. It took two hours.

And now, there I was, running through the empty halls of my building in my 3,500 Catwalk pumps, racing towards the executioner. Breathe Priya. He can smell fear.

As I neared the conference room, I tried pointlessly to calm my breathing. Maybe he would be running late, and was still in his office working. Yea, right. I passed his office and my fears were confirmed.

The door was open, the desk lamp the only illumination in the room, and there sat his large leather chair. 

Empty. 

Shit.

I slowed to a walk as I approached the conference room, dim light escaping from beneath the closed door. He was definitely in there, waiting for me.

Carefully, I attempted to smooth my hair and clothing while holding onto the bundle of documents in my arms. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

“Come in.” My breath caught and a small gasp escaped my lips at the tone of his voice. He didn’t sound angry, it was worse. He sounded bored. Bored of waiting. I think this is what they mean by the fight or flight reflex.

Straightening my shoulders, I walked into the dimly lit space. The room was large, one side filled with floor to ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view of the Chicago cityscape eighteen stories below.

In the center stood a large heavy wood conference table, and seated at the head of the table, facing me, was Mr. Kapoor.

He sat there, his suit jacket hanging on the chair behind him, his tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his fingers tented in front of him. A look of total boredom set on his perfect little face.

His eyes were boring into mine, but he said nothing.

“I apologize, Mr. Kapoor,” I said, my voice wavering with my still labored breathing, “There was a mix up with th-” I stopped. Excuses wouldn’t help my situation. And besides, I wasn’t going to let him blame me for something I had no control over. He could kiss my…you know. With my new found bravery in place, I lifted my chin and walked over to the table.

Without meeting his gaze, I sorted through my papers and placed the presentation on the wooden table before us. “Are you ready for me to begin, Mr. Kapoor?” I asked, not trying to hide the venom in my voice.

He looked up at me, not responding, his green eyes piercing my brave front. This would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so beautiful. What’s the point of having such a beautiful face when there’s such a massive ass attached to it? I hated myself for noticing his looks. Of course he was gorgeous, that’s how he got away with being such a gigantic prick to everyone.

Every woman in this building threw themselves at him, and he was too arrogant and conceited to even acknowledge it. Everyone but me that is. I prided myself on being the only one who never attempted to gain his attention. He might be sexy as hell, but one word out of that mouth usually took care of the problem.

Still not saying anything, he gestured his hand to the documents before him, urging me to continue . I cleared my throat and began my presentation. As I moved through the different phases of the campaign, he didn’t say a word. He merely looked forward, his eyes meeting nothing.

I was leaning over the table, gesturing towards a set of photographs when I felt it. His hand lifted slowly from his lap and pressed gently into my lower back before sliding down, settling on my ass.

“The print company can have this do-” I stopped mid sentence, my breath caught in my throat, and I froze. A million thoughts raced through my mind in that instant. In the nine months I had worked for him, he had never intentionally touched me. This was most definitely intentional.

The heat from his hand, burned through my skirt and into my skin. Every muscle in my body tensed, as a shudder ran through me. What the hell was he doing? My brain screamed at me to push his hand off, to tell him to never touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My nipples hardened, and I clenched my jaw in response. Traitor nipples.

I let out the breath I’d been holding, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. At least a minute had to have passed, and neither of us said anything, our breathing and the muted noise of the city below the only sounds echoing in the still air of the conference room.

“Turn around Ms. Sharma,” he said quietly. The sound of his voice broke the silence; I gasped silently and closed my eyes at the sound. I straightened my back, eyes facing forward. Slowly I turned, his hand moving with me, sliding to my hip. I looked down to meet his eyes, and he looked intently back at me. More silence.

I could see his chest rising and falling; each breath deeper than the last. His thumb began to move, slowly sliding back and forth; his eyes never leaving mine. He was waiting for me to stop him; there had been plenty of time for me to say something. But as much as I hated him, I knew I couldn’t say those words. I had never felt this way.

Every muscle was tensed in anticipation. I could feel the heat emanating from his hand, coursing through my body, and the moisture beginning to seep into my panties.

With his eyes locked to mine, he began to slowly slide his hand lower. His fingers ran down my thigh, to the hem of my skirt. He moved it aside and his hand rested on the tops of my stockings, curling his smooth hand around my thigh. As his hand rose up my leg, my body trembled with the power of the rage and lust battling inside me. How dare he think he can touch me? I hated him more than I’d known was possible, but right now, I hated myself more.

How could I let my body react like this? I wanted to slap him in the face; but more than that, I wanted him to keep going. The slow ache between my legs was building, and I could feel the wetness pooling as his fingers inched closer. He reached the edge of my lace panties and he slipped his fingers under the hem. I felt him slide against my hairless lips, and graze my clit before plunging his finger inside me. I closed my eyes, and bit my lip trying to stifle my groan. When I looked down at him, his eyes were wild with lust, and beads of sweat were forming on his brow.

“Fuck,” he growled quietly. His eyes closed and he seemed to be waging the same internal battle as I was. I glanced down at his lap and could see him hard, straining against the fabric of his pants.

With his eyes still closed he withdrew his finger and fisted the thin lace of my panties in his hand. He was shaking and he looked up at me, fury and lust in his eyes.

In one quick movement he tore them from my body, the rip of the fabric echoing in the silence.

He pulled my hips roughly, lifting me up onto the cold table and spreading my legs in front of him. I felt the heat spread rapidly through my center, and I gave an involuntary groan as his fingers returned to rub roughly against my clit. I despised this man and everything he stood for, but my body was betraying me; it craved the touch he was giving me. Not the same gentle loving touches I was accustomed to, but working my body into an animalistic frenzy. My head fell back as I leaned back on my elbows, feeling my impending orgasm approaching fast.

But then he stopped, removing his hand from inside me and I actually throbbed from the loss. I whimpered loudly as my head flew up to look at him. I sat up quickly taking the front of his shirt in my fists and pulling his lips roughly against mine. He even tasted amazing, and I hated that. I bit his lower lip as my hands made quick work down to the front of his pants, undoing his belt hastily. “You better be ready to finish what you started, Mr. Kapoor.”

He growled and took my blouse in his hands and ripped it open, the buttons flying aimlessly across the carpet. 

He gripped my breasts roughly, shooting such a pleasurable pain through my body, and causing my hands to quicken their motions to unfasten his pants and shove them, along with his boxers to the floor. I gripped his thick hard length in my hand and squeezed, feeling it pulse against my palm.

“Oh I intend to do more than that, Ms. Sharma.”

The way he seethed my name should have sent a rush of fury through me, but I only felt one thing right now. 

Pure, unadulterated lust. I suddenly felt my skirt being pushed up my thighs, and he pushed my back on the conference table.

Before I could utter a single word, I felt him take a hold of my ankles and thrust his long hard cock deep inside me. “Fuck!” I screamed loudly.

“That’s right,” I heard him hiss through clenched teeth, as his hips rapidly slammed against me, driving his cock deep inside. I couldn’t hold back the moans and screams. “Never been fucked like this before have you? You wouldn’t be such a fucking cock tease if you were being properly fucked.”

Who did he think he was? And why the hell did it turn me on so much that he was right? I had never had sex anywhere but on a bed, and it never felt like this. His cock felt so damn good inside me, and it awakened things 

I hadn’t even known existed. Never had I been able to get off during sex. I usually had to sneak away into the bathroom after and take care of things myself. But he’d already had me to the brink twice. “I’ve had better,” I taunted breathlessly, looking up at him through narrowed eyes.

His eyes flared and he pulled out just as I was about to come. I growled at him as he let go of my ankles.

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