Unleashing the Receptionist: ...the Receptionist, Book 3 by Juniper Bell

Margo. As far as I can tell, you followed none of these directives.”
    “Well, no, but…”
    “Instead you took things into your own hands.”
    “Well, yes, but…”
    “You didn’t trust us to handle the situation.”
    “That’s not it! I wanted…”
    He was behind me now, not touching me, but I felt the powerful energy of his presence, the waves of intensity pouring off him. “You wanted what?”
    “I wanted to prove myself to you. Prove I’m just as much a part of this firm as anyone else.”
    I met Simon’s sympathetic green eyes. His hands were folded across his chest as he watched the scene between Ethan and me.
    “Why ever would you think you weren’t already?”
    The answer to that seemed totally obvious. “I’m just…just the receptionist.”
    Ethan wheeled around in front of me, spearing me with blue steel. “Never. Ever. Say that again.”
    I bit my lip and hung my head.
    “Your value to us has no name, no limits, no title. You are our very own Dana and this firm would be nothing without you. We—” he glanced at Simon, who nodded, “—would be nothing without you. Do you understand?”
    I couldn’t speak from the emotion welling inside me.
    “Now. Infractions have occurred, and punishment is due.”
    Dark shivers of anticipation made my belly clench. I nodded. His quiet voice dropped like pebbles into the still room.
    “On your knees.”
    I sank to my knees on the soft carpet.
    He walked behind me and twined his hands in my hair. “Unbutton your blouse.”
    I quickly did so, the buttons willingly sliding from their holes.
    “Hands behind your neck.” I clasped my hands as he commanded. My hair cascaded over them, tickling my back.
    When my blouse was open he reached inside and caressed my breasts with tender, lingering strokes. It felt different, the way he was touching me, more gentle than usual. I shifted on my knees as little tendrils of sensation made their way to my sex. He raised my skirt in the back and ran his hands across the curves of my rear, pausing at my thong underwear.
    “I want you naked under your clothes for the rest of the day,” he murmured in my ear. “So I can call you in and fondle you whenever I have the fancy. Simon, hand me the scissors.”
    A few snips, and my panties were curling bits of fabric on the floor. He did the same to my bra. Ethan knelt behind me. His strong fingers slipped into my pussy and stroked the swelling folds, pausing at the piercing, wiggling it back and forth. A tickle quickly grew to a burn. I panted, my hands restless behind my head. Simon crouched before me, lifted both my breasts in his two hands and took one nipple into his mouth. He swirled his warm, wet tongue across it.
    I groaned. Between my legs, Ethan’s hand continued its adventures into my pussy. His hands were huge. I knew he’d killed people with those hands in his former life. They were masterful. They knew things, mysterious things like how I would react to feeling my clit pinched between two long fingers. I lurched forward into Simon’s chest. He caught me, laughing, my breasts still cupped in his hands. He brushed his fingers across my swelling nipples.
    “Don’t knock over our Dana,” he teased. “We can’t do without her.”
    “Indeed not,” Ethan growled in my ear. He placed one hand on my chest to steady me. When he increased the pressure, I bowed backward, which had the effect of presenting my breasts more blatantly to Simon. He took full advantage by suckling madly at my nipples, nibbling and stroking until every move of his tongue echoed deep in my pussy. A lightning storm built inside my body, the sparks arcing between my sex and my nipples.
    Once when I was little I watched a storm tear apart the power lines outside our basement apartment. The line snaked into the air, tossing sparks like blinding confetti. That’s the image that flashed into my mind as I twisted there on the carpet, sandwiched between Ethan and Simon. Right now, Ethan owned my