Karma's POV
My father always said "To learn the job you want you need to spend every waking hour watching someone do it". And "Start from the bottom darling, you need to become the person the CEO can't live without. Be irreplaceable"
And I did just that. I'd become the Right Hand. Too bad most of the days I was the right hand that wanted to punch that damn face.
My Boss, Amy Leigh Raudenfeld. Beautiful Bitch
My stomach clenched tightly at the thought of her: tall, gorgeous and entirely evil. She was the most self-righteous, pompous person I'd ever met and also the smartest. I'd hear all the rumors about her escapades and wonder if a nice face was all that took. But my father also said "You realize early in life that beauty is only skin-deep, and ugly goes straight to the bone". I'd had my fair share of unpleasant man and women in the past few years, dated a few in high school and college. But this women… she was something else indeed.
"Well, Hello there, Miss Ashcroft!" Ms. Raudenfeld stood in the doorway to my office apparently waiting for me. Her voice was laced with politeness, but it was all wrong. I knew my boss like the palm of my hand and I was in trouble, in deep trouble but decided to play dumb and pretend everything was fine in the world for a few minutes more.
I gave her my usual. "Good Morning Miss Raudenfeld" hoping she would give me her usual nod in return. But when I tried to slip past her, she said with all the coldness she could master.
"Is it a Good Morning Miss Ashcroft? What time is it in your little perfect world?"
I stopped and met her cold stare. She was taller than me, had beautiful green eyes and her hair was this dirty blonde that made her extremely and annoyingly hot. Before working for her I'd never felt so small. I'd worked for Raudenfeld Media Group for six years. But since her return to the family business nine months ago, I'd taken to wearing heels I used to consider circus height just so I could approach her near eye level. And she loved that, I can tell for the smug look on her face every time I had to tilt my head to look at her.
"I had a bit of a complicated morning. It won't happen again," I said, relieved that my voice came out steady. I had never been late, not once, but leave it to her to make a thing of it the first time it happened. I managed to slip past her, put my purse and coat in my closet, and power up my computer. I tried to act like she wasn't standing in the doorway, watching every move I made.
"Complicated morning you said? Well that's actually a very accurate description for what I've had to deal with in your absence. I've done your job and mine this morning Miss Ashcroft. I hope for your own good this won't happen again" said Miss Raudenfeld with a severe voice meant to scare the shit out of me.
I glanced up at her, antagonizing me, glaring, arms crossed over her chest—and all because I was an hour late. I blinked away, very deliberately not staring at the way her dark designer suit stretched across her shoulders. I had made the mistake of visiting the hotel gym during a convention the first month we worked together and walked in to find her sweaty and only wearing a sport bra next to the treadmill. She had the body and face any lingerie model would kill for and the most amazing hair I've ever seen in a women. She was perfect in every way possible; too bad she couldn't keep her mouth shut, the memory was still burning in my head.
"It's nice to see you finally taking an interest in your physical fitness, Miss Ashcroft." she said with a smirk on her face.
Asshole
"I'm sorry, Miss Raudenfeld." "I understand the burden I placed on you by making you manage a fax machine and pick up a telephone". I said with just a hint of sarcasm in my voice. She gave me her best cynical smile that said "I'm so going to fire your ass but first I'm going to make you suffer."
"Cute, you think you're very funny don't you? Well since you're in such a good mood this morning Miss Ashcroft, I need a presentation of the Booker account for me in the conference room at six. Prove me that I don't need to fire that pretty little ass of yours" she replied, cocky smile firmly in place.
My eyes widened as I watched her turn away, slamming her office door behind her. She knew damn well that I was ahead of schedule with this project, which also served as my MBA thesis. I still had months to finish my slides once the contracts were signed . . . which they weren't—they hadn't even been fully drafted. Now, with everything else on my plate, she wanted me to put together a fucking presentation in . . . I looked at my watch. Great, seven and a half hours, if I skipped lunch. I opened the Booker file and got down to it.
As everyone began filtering out for lunch, I remained glued to my desk with my coffee and a bag of trail mix I'd bought from the vending machine. Normally I'd bring leftovers or leave with the other interns to grab something, but time was not on my side today. I heard the outer office door open and looked up, smiling as Zita Jones walked in. Zita was in the same MBA internship program at Raudenfeld Media Group that I was, though she worked in accounting.
"I'm going to have to skip it. This is the day from hell." I looked at her apologetically, and her smile turned into a smirk.
"Day from hell, or lady boss from hell?" She took a seat on the edge of my desk. "I heard she was on a bit of a rampage this morning."
I gave her a knowing look. Zita didn't work for her, but she knew all about Amy Raudenfeld. As the youngest daughter of company founder Hank Raudenfeld, and with a notoriously short fuse, she was a living legend in the building. "Even if there were two of me, I wouldn't be able to get this finished in time."
"You sure you don't want me to bring you back something?" Her eyes moved in the direction of her office. "A hit man? Some holy water?"
I laughed. "I'm good."
Zita smiled and left the office. I'd just finished off the last of my coffee when I bent down, noting a run in my stockings. "And on top of everything else," I began, hearing Zita return, "I've already snagged these. Actually, if you're going somewhere there are donuts, bring me back fifty pounds, so I can eat my feelings later."
I glanced up and saw that it wasn't Zita standing there. My cheeks flushed red and I pulled my skirt back down.
"I'm sorry, Miss Raudenfeld, I was—"
"You were discussing problematic lingerie with a co-worker, how nice Miss Ashcroft. Since you apparently have time to waste on trivial issues of your daily life and you probably finish the Booker presentation already, I need you to also run down to the Hester office and retrieve the market analysis and segmentation for Harvey" You think you can manage that sweetheart? She said with a condescending voice and a smug on her face that I really was dying to punch. She was trying to affect me, to humiliate me but I wasn't going to let her, not without a fight.
"Of course, I'll be happy to ask Leila if she" –
"I want YOU to do it" she cut me off completely. "It's not a suggestion Miss Ashcroft, is an order." She gazed at me for a moment with a clenched jaw before turning on her heel and storming back to her office, pulling the door closed roughly behind her.
What the hell was her problem? Was slamming doors like a freaking teenager really necessary? I grabbed my blazer from the back of the chair and began making my way to our satellite office a few buildings down.
When I returned, I knocked on her door but there was no response. I tried the knob. Locked. I shoved the manila folder through the mail slot, hoping the papers scattered everywhere and she'd have to get down and sort them herself. Then again, knowing her, she would call me into that sterile hellhole to clean it up while she watched.
Four hours later I had the status updates complete, my slides mostly in order, and I was almost hysterically laughing with how awful this day was. I found myself plotting to murder the Copy store guy. I asked for a simple job that took him two freaking hours to do, making me once again late.
"You're late again" was the first thing I heard when I enter the conference room. I didn't say anything to contradict her, she was right I was twenty minutes late, nervous as hell and also in a very bad mood. She was watching me intently while I was setting the presentation like I was her prey and she the predator waiting for the right time to attack me.
Without meeting her gaze, I sorted through my papers and placed a copy of the presentation on the table before us. "Are you ready for me to begin?"
She didn't say anything, her green cold eyes scanning me entirely making me even more nervous and honestly turning me on a little. Was she checking on me? I must be hallucinating because I'm pretty sure she hates me as much as I do.
"Go on" she finally said, her voice a little husky than usual. That caught my attention for a second but I quickly regained my focus and started the presentation.
As I moved through the different aspects of the proposal, she stayed silent, staring directly at her copy. Why was she so calm? Her temper tantrums I could handle. But the eerie silence? It was unnerving.
I was leaning over the table, gesturing toward a set of graphs, when it happened.
"Their timeline for the first milestone is a little ambi—" I stopped midsentence, my breath caught in my throat. Her hand pressed gently into my lower back before sliding down, settling on the curve of my ass. In the nine months I had worked for her, she had never intentionally touched me. And this was most definitely intentional.
The heat from her hand burned through my skirt and into my skin. Every muscle in my body tensed, and it felt like my insides were liquefying. What the hell was she doing? My brain screamed at me to push her hand off, to tell her to never touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My nipples hardened, and I clenched my jaw in response. Traitor nipples.
While my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything as her hand moved down to my thigh, caressing. Our breathing and the muted noise of the city below were the only sounds in the still air of the conference room.
"What are you thinking?"She whispered seductively in my ear. She bitted my earlobe making me moan in response. My brain couldn't believe this was happening but my body certainly didn't care too much.
"Oh, I still trying to figure out believe me" I said with a hoarse voice. She chuckled at my obvious state of arousal and her fingers ran down my thigh, to the hem of my skirt. She moved it up so her fingertips traced the strap of my garter belt, the lace edge of one thigh-high stocking. A long finger slipped beneath the thin fabric and pulled it down slightly. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling suddenly like I was melting from the outside in.
How could I let my body react like this? I still wanted to slap her, but now, more than that, I wanted her to keep going. The heavy ache between my legs was building. She reached the edge of my panties and slipped her fingers under the fabric. I felt her slide against my skin and graze my clit before pushing her finger inside me, and I bit my lip trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle my groan.
"Fuck," she growled quietly. "You're so wet for me." She said in a low satisfying voice. And then in one quick movement she tore off my panties, the rip of the fabric echoing in the silence. I should probably get mad at her for doing that or something but the only emotion my brainless mind could register right now was lust and the need to be fucked.
After saving in her pocket what was left of my very expensive lingerie, she turned me around, pulled my hips roughly and lifted me up onto the cold table. Sitting there I could finally appreciate the beauty of Amy Raudenfeld in all her glory. And boy she was beautiful with those rosy cheeks and green storming eyes full of lust and dirty promises. Before I could say anything at all she spread my legs in front of her and her fingers returned to action, sliding between my legs and pushing into me again.
I despised this woman in a singularly sharp way, but my body was betraying me; I craved more of what she was doing. Damn if she wasn't good at this. Hers weren't the gentle loving touches I was accustomed to. Here was a woman used to getting what she wanted, and it turned out that right now, what she wanted was me. My head fell to the side as I leaned back on my elbows, feeling my impending orgasm approaching fast.
To my absolute horror I actually whimpered, "Oh, please."
She stopped moving, pulling her fingers back, making me grunt in disagreement. I sat up, grabbing her by her neck and pulling her mouth roughly against mine. Her lips felt as perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I'd never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every single angle and dip and teasing move to make me almost completely lose my mind.
I bit her lower lip as my hands ripped open her shirt revealing the most exquisite breast I've ever seen in my life. "You better be ready to finish what you started." I said in a seductive but threatening voice.
She smiled at me the cockiest grin ever and said
"Ask me to make you come" Her tone was all wrong. It was almost a question, but her words were just like her—all bitch. I did want her to make me come. More than anything. But I'd be damned if I'd ever ask her for anything.
I dropped my voice and stared back at her. "You're a bitch, Miss Raudenfeld."
Her smile told me that whatever she'd needed from me, she got. I wanted to slap her face so much, but then I wouldn't get more of what I really wanted.
"Say please, Miss Ashcroft."
"Please, go fuck yourself."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic Miss Ashcroft. Just tell me." She leaned forward, sucked my earlobe between her lips and then gave it a sharp bite. "I promise I'll give it to you."
"Please," I said, closing my eyes to shut out everything else and just feel her. "Please. Yes."
She then started to move her fingertips across my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. Not long after that warmth spread down my spine, around my hips, and between my legs. My entire body was trembling from the orgasm that was rushing over me, leaving me breathless. Meanwhile Miss Raudenfeld was doing wonders with her mouth, like sucking my neck, my jaw and lower lip, making me moan ever louder. She was amazingly good at this, too bad she just need it to open her devious little mouth and ruin everything.
"Now say thank you Miss Ashcroft and Make me feel good" she whispered in my ear. And there it was, the reason I hated her so much, that arrogance and superior attitude that make me cringe every time I hear her voice.
Suddenly I wasn't brainless anymore. I recovered what was left of my dignity, smiled at her sweetly and said "I've had better" and with that I pulled myself together and left the conference room, leaving my very unsatisfied boss behind me. I can be a bitch too Miss Raudenfeld.
A/N: Should I continue? English is not my first lenguage so I apoligize for any mistake