Page 240 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

CEO of Spanking by Aster Rae

Chapter One

Daniel

"Shit."

I grip my steering wheel and suck in a breath. The orange light on my dashboard flashes, alerting me to one more broken thing on my car.

It's definitely not the check engine light—I got that looked at last month. The mechanic who popped open my hood was sexy as hell… and he didn't even charge me the full rate.

I'm pretty sure he thought I was a cutie, or it could be more of a hopeless fantasy on my part. I tend to do that a lot. Especially when I'm attracted to someone.

Like the man I just interviewed with, for instance. That's why I'm on this damn highway in the middle of nowhere in the first place—I'm coming back from the job interview of the century.

To say I botched it is a colossal understatement. I screwed up worse than a contestant on Jeopardy who forgets to memorize the Top 100 Billboard hits of the past decade even though they can rattle off the periodic table by memory.

The company is a business-to-business technology firm where I can put my computer programming degree to use. The CEO, Hilton Gunn, is the sexiest man in the world.

Throughout the interview, I couldn't help but stare into his pristine, hazel eyes. They were as shiny as gems and as deep as black holes in outer space.

I fucked up. Bad. When he asked me my favorite movie, I mentioned I hadn't watched TV in ages.

I aced the technological portion of the interview like a pro, but when it came to soft skills—you know, the important ones—I struck out.

It's freaking worse because Hilton is exactly my type. Tall. Dark. Handsome as hell. Ripped biceps bulging out of his tight-fitting button-down shirt. A silver Rolex on his left wrist and his arms weren't too hairy. His jaw was chiseled and sharp and sent sparks of heat swirling across my gut.

Part of me came to life as I stared into his eyes. I tried to focus on the questions he asked me, the endless stream of perfect words bubbling out of his lips, but it was impossible. All I wanted to do was take my shirt off, strut in my birthday suit, and submit to him. I wanted him to lay me across his lap, still in his suit pants, and teach me not to fuck up the interview.

He could perform his lessons with his firm, mammoth palm. Oh yes, he could. I wouldn't turn the offer down for all the money in the world.

Beep beep.

"This motherfucking thing is driving me nuts." Cracking open the glove compartment, I tear out my car’s owner’s manual. I bought this model because it's supposed to be the most reliable on the road. It has top-notch safety ratings and it should last me ten years or until I reach two hundred thousand miles—whichever is sooner. Of course, the salesman at the dealership didn't actually guarantee me that when I purchased it… he merely said he swore on his grandmother's grave that it'd last me a long time, which isn’t legally binding. "I should've paid more attention to my father in high school. If I hadn't been so focused on partying, I could've learned what to do in this situation."

My Dad was one of those guys who loved getting his hands dirty. Every Sunday, he'd soap up his Mustang in our driveway and clean it from head to toe. He changed the oil, polished it—or her, as he loved to say—and tried to include me.

I was way too busy hanging out with my best girlfriends in the world, Marissa and Samantha. We had fake IDs to sneak into the hottest clubs in Brooklyn and I couldn't be bothered to learn that stuff.

I figured that one day, a partner would handle that for me—I'd be the fabulous homemaker and blowjob-giver of the relationship, and he'd take care of my auto needs. Or at least make enough money to bring my car to the best mechanic.

I tug out my phone to text my friends.

Me: I'm in a jam

Marissa: What else is new

Me: That's not helpful. There's a light on in my car and I don't know what it means

Marissa: It's probably the check engine light

Me: I got that taken care of last month so it's definitely something else

Samantha: Maybe it's the dick light

Me: I'm not in the mood for jokes

Samantha: It's been too long since your last dick appointment. Your car's trying to tell you something

---