Breaking Daisy

Mr.Greyson

The door to my office hung wide open, a careless oversight from my last meeting, but it didn't matter. Everyone knew better than to barge in without knocking. Except my office assistant, that simpering little thing with her tight skirts and those glasses perched on her nose like she thought they made her look intelligent, sauntered in clutching a stack of files. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor, drawing my eye from the spreadsheet on my screen. She cleared her throat, a nervous little sound that grated on me, and set the files down on the edge of my desk with trembling hands.

I watched her, impassive, as she lingered there, biting her lower lip in that obvious, desperate way women do when they're fishing for attention. Slowly, she straightened up, her chest heaving just enough to push her blouse over her tits. Then, with a boldness that bordered on stupidity, she cupped one breast through the fabric, squeezing it firmly, her thumb circling the outline of her nipple as it hardened under her touch. Pathetic. But my cock twitched in my pants anyway, the familiar stir of boredom-laced lust kicking in.

I leaned back in my leather chair, the creak of it filling the silence, and crooked a finger toward my crotch, motioning her over without a word. Her eyes lit up like she'd won some prize, and she fumbled with her glasses, sliding them off and setting them on the desk before dropping to her knees in front of me. Her fingers worked my belt buckle clumsily, then the zipper, tugging my pants open to free my hardening dick. It sprang out, thick and heavy, already half-erect from the sheer audacity of her display.

She didn't waste time, leaning in to wrap her lips around the head, her tongue flicking sloppily along the underside as she took me deeper into her warm, wet mouth. I gripped the arms of my chair, watching her bob her head, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her saliva coating my shaft in glistening trails. She was eager, I'll give her that. Her hand stroking the base while she tried to swallow more, gagging softly when I hit the back of her throat. But then her teeth grazed me, not a light scrape, but a hard, scraping drag along the sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pain through the pleasure.

Fury ignited in my gut. I snarled, fisting a handful of her hair and yanked her head back sharply. She yelped around my cock, lips popping off with a wet smack, strings of spit connecting her mouth to my tip.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” I growled, shoving her away with enough force to send her sprawling back onto her ass, her skirt riding up to expose the tops of her thighs.

She scrambled to sit up, eyes wide with shock, wiping her mouth as I tucked my dick back into my pants, zipping up.

“Get the fuck out of my office,” I snapped, my voice low and venomous. “You think you can waltz in here, tease me like some cheap whore, and then bite me? You're worthless. A fucking liability. Get the fuck out.”

She stammered, her face flushing crimson, words tumbling out in a incoherent mess. “I—I'm sorry, Mr. Grayson, I didn't mean, I just thought—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” I barked, slamming my fist on the desk, the files jumping from the impact. “I don't want your excuses. You're done here if you pull this shit again. Get out before I fire your incompetent ass on the spot.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't argue further, scrambling to her feet, glasses forgotten on the desk as she smoothed her skirt and hurried toward the door. Her heels stuttered on the floor, the door banging shut behind her retreating form.

I scoffed, shaking my head at the absurdity, and settled back into my chair, a smirk curling my lips. Amateur. The day was young, and there were real problems to crush.

Finally my eyes landed on the stack of files she left on my desk. I grabbed them, flipping through with a sigh of annoyance.

Just as I was beginning to focus, she appeared again.

I scowled. “What is it now?” My voice cut through the silence sharp enough to sting.

“A young lady is here for the interview,” my assistant said, cautiously, as if speaking might provoke an actual hurricane.

I blinked, the memory hitting me like a cold splash of water. Damn it. I had completely forgotten.

“Let her come up,” I said, waving a dismissive hand, already regretting the interruption but too stubborn to show it. My patience was threadbare, and every second felt like an eternity.

She would see soon enough that I didn’t suffer fools gladly. And God help her if she tried to waste my time.

The office door opened, and she stepped in.

Black hair, soft and glossy, spilled down her back like ink running over silk. My eyes caught the wine-stained curve of her lips, the almost whiskey glow of her eyes. A small nose, delicate, and a soft, doll-like face. Every line of her body was perfect. Blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, flats on her feet, skin smooth and unblemished.

My chest tightened.

“Have a seat,” I said, my voice low, even, unyielding.

She moved slowly, careful, shy, and perched on the edge of the chair. I picked up her files, flipping through them quickly. Impressive. Her credentials were solid, Clean, Precise. Competent. She started to speak. I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.

Her lips parted, then shut. She swallowed hard, cheeks faintly pink. Soft lips bitten, eyes dropped. She was innocent, Shy. Fragile. It should have irritated me but it didn't.

I ran through the files, noting each accomplishment, each reference. She had what it took. More than enough.

I closed the files deliberately, resting my hand on them. “Impressive,” I said flatly. “You start Monday.”

Her reaction…I almost lost it. A smile, wide, genuine. Eyes sparkling like they could light the room. Dimples, deep, perfect.

My heart skipped. I frowned sharply. Not allowed.

“Thank you,” she said softly, timid. Innocent. Sweet.

“You may leave,” I said, firm, keeping my tone iron.

She rose slowly. When she reached the door, she paused, glanced back. A small smile. One strand of hair tucked behind my ear.

My chest clenched. Heart flipped. I scowled, frustrated with the effect she had on me already.

The door clicked shut and silence returned.

I scoffed. Picked up the folder again.

Who the fuck names a child Daisy? And yet she looked like a breath of fresh air. Like sunlight in this sterile office.

I stared at her small photo, jaw ticking.