I like my job. As VP of a major construction company, I’m busy all the time, but I also get some huge perks. I split my time between the office and job sites, and my free hours are spent schmoozing at cocktail parties, opera visits, or deep sea fishing trips. (Basically, anything that can be written off as networking.) Our suppliers and potential suppliers are willing to do a lot to make me happy, so I work hard and play hard, and so far it’s worked out well.

There is one big problem: my boss recently saddled me with a personal assistant to help manage my workload. Meera is sharp, efficient, and aggressively judgmental and she also happens to be the boss’s daughter.

She’s also really, really sexy. Huge eyes, a body to die for, and an attitude the size of Texas. She’s sharp enough to help me with not just my schedule, but my presentations and negotiation strategies. Unfortunately, she definitely doesn’t approve of my extracurricular activities.

“His last shipment was a week late,” she’ll lecture when a supplier wants to take me to a baseball game. “That’s gross,” she’ll say when someone wants to take me to a strip club. “Do you even work here?” she’ll grouse when I take an extended golfing trip with a potential supplier.

I know I’m a little corrupt. Everyone’s corrupt at my level. But Meera judging me drives me up the wall, and not just because I don’t enjoy being judged. She’s distractingly beautiful and the boss’s daughter, and I can’t quite tell if she hates me or wants me, but I’ve been desperate to find out.

Fast forward to last weekend.

I was working on a Saturday, since my Friday had been lost to wine tasting with a supplier. Meera, being my personal assistant, has to work whenever I do, and I take a certain sadistic pleasure in making her work on weekends.

She was sitting at her desk just outside my office, and since the door and wall were glass — chosen by the last president as a metaphor for transparency, hilariously enough — I had a front-row seat to the way she kicked off her high heels as she read over a contract. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose, and I was riveted to the sight of her rubbing her bare toes over her calf. Her toenails were cherry red, a detail that made me extra aware that a very attractive woman was seated fifteen feet away from me in a deserted office.

Before I could think better of it, I grabbed the phone and dialed her extension. She knew it was me from Caller ID, but she responded with her usual professional greeting.

“I’m bored,” I told her, suppressing a laugh when her spine stiffened in outrage.

“How fascinating,” she said in response. “Maybe you didn’t need to come in to work on a Saturday, after all.”

“You’re my assistant,” I told her. “Aren’t you supposed to entertain me?”

And oh, that was absolutely the perfect thing to say, because she slammed the phone down on the cradle, slid her feet back into her heels, and stormed into my office.

“Look,” she said, smacking her hands down on my desk. “I don’t want to be here on the weekend either, so let’s just get the work done and go home.”

I leaned back in my chair and eyed her up and down, from the hem of her tight business skirt to the neckline of her blouse. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re my assistant. You do what I say.”

She was fuming at this point, and I silently celebrated getting under her skin. What she did next shocked me, though. She stomped around to my side of the desk, grabbed my tie, and tugged it up, nearly choking me. “And you know as the boss’s daughter I could have you fired in a second,” she said, stepping between my legs. “So cut the shit.”

For a man like me, threats followed by mild physical violence is basically a mating call. I settled a hand on her hip, and her eyes widened, but she just kept strangling me. Her not punching me in the face or running away was promising, so I slid the hand down to the hem of her skirt. As I tugged the fabric up, she shivered.

Bingo.

The two of us apparently hated and lusted after each other equally, which meant we had a new battlefield to wage war on.

I kept lifting the skirt until it was at her hips, revealing black underwear. “So we both know we can make each other’s lives hell, right?” I asked, staring at the outline of her plump pussy through her panties.

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Or we just fuck,” I suggested.

And apparently that was exactly what Meera wanted, because the next thing I knew, she was leaning over and kissing me. I fumbled with her skirt, and after a mutual bout of swearing and battling with clothes, I was finally free of my jacket, while she was stripped down to her lingerie.

I yanked Meera onto my lap, settling her back against my chest. I skated my hand down and slipped it beneath her panties. She was wet, and as I rubbed my fingers over her cunt, she moaned and tipped her head back against my shoulder.

My office chair was not going to be sturdy enough for what I wanted to do, so I lifted Meera off me and dragged her down to the floor. She straddled me, gripping my tie in one fist as she undulated over my erection. The way she snapped her hips was mesmerizing, and I grabbed her ass to rub her harder against me.

Meera moaned, then slid down my body to my crotch. She unzipped my slacks and pulled my dick out, then dipped her head and started sucking.

She was fantastic in that overly aggressive way that makes you worried she might bite your dick off if you say the wrong thing. Maybe hate sex isn’t appealing to everyone, but it definitely revs my engine. She bobbed up and down, sucking enthusiastically while her hand squeezed hard around my base.

“Get over here,” I told her, refusing to be the only one about to be undone by pleasure. This was a negotiation, after all, and orgasms were an important commodity.

She shifted her body until her mouth was at my dick and her pussy was over my face. I licked her through her panties, then tugged the fabric aside to get my mouth on her. She was incredibly wet, and I loved the tangy taste of her against my tongue. She moaned against me, and her mouth grew more frantic around my cock. I slipped a finger into her, then used that lubricated finger to rub over her tight asshole. She shivered and groaned around my dick when I slid my finger in a few inches, licking her cunt the whole time.

I was loving every second of eating her out while she sucked me off, but soon I had to stop. I pulled away, dragging her off my dick. Then I repositioned us, stripping off her panties and bra before putting her on her hands and knees.

She quivered as I dragged my hands down her back. When I slapped her ass lightly, she glared back at me in outrage, but I noticed the clench of her pussy. Meera liked it a little rough. I spanked her again, harder this time, then rubbed the sting out.

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked.

It was on. I spanked her over and over again, moving from her ass cheeks to her upper thighs and back. Soon she was whimpering and flinching away from the hits, and I knew I’d won. I stroked her more softly, soothing her until she’d gotten her breathing under control and was once again rocking back against me.

She was wet, but I’m a thorough guy, so I slid two fingers into her pussy from behind, pumping them slowly to make sure she was ready for my dick. She let out a little moan that told me she was loving it.

“Tell me how much you want my dick,” I told her.

Apparently, that was a step too far, because she whipped her head around and glared at me. “I think you love your dick enough for both of us. Just shut up and put it in me.”

Well, it was only our first time; now that this bridge had been crossed, I was certain there would be many others. I could make her beg for it later. I grabbed a condom from my desk drawer — it pays to be prepared — and slid it on, then lined up behind her. I was still in my shirt and slacks, with my erection sticking out, and being clothed while she was totally naked made me feel powerful. I pressed the tip against her and pushed.

She gasped and arched her back in a gratifying way as I thrust all the way in. She was hot and so tight, like her pussy had been made for me. I pulled out slowly, then hovered with just the tip in her, wanting to see what she would do.

She reached one manicured hand back to grip my thigh and tug me into her. “Do it,” she ordered.

“Get ready to take it,” I told her. I shoved into her hard. She moaned and slammed her clenched fist against the floor.

I fucked her with deep, forceful strokes, gripping her hips for leverage. The sound of our bodies slapping together was loud in the office, and soon she was whimpering with every punishing thrust. I decreased the intensity slightly, only to have her snarl at me. “More!”

Meera wanted to be absolutely railed. I fucked her until she was moaning louder than anyone I’d ever been with, and when I felt my balls start to tighten with an oncoming orgasm, I reached around to rub her clit.

That did it. She came with a shriek, her pussy squeezing me hard as she shuddered all over. That set me off, and I came in her so hard my vision blurred.

She looked back at me over her shoulder, and she looked simultaneously blissed out and bitchy. “Back to work?” she asked.

I smacked her on the ass again. “Not likely.”

We spent the rest of that Saturday fucking all over the office, and it was the best overtime I’d ever put in.