Burn Me Right

Chapter 35

He ushered her forward, and the world around them came to a halt. The clicking of keyboards, the hum of printers, and the murmurs of conversations all ceased as every employee turned their gaze towards the duo. Autumn couldn't help but feel like an intruder in this world of suits and ties, with their judgmental stares piercing through her skin.

As they walked, she could feel the weight of their pity and contempt, their whispers filling her ears like poison. She wondered what they saw when they looked at her –­a pawn in the hands of a powerful man or a willing accomplice in his wicked schemes. It was hard to tell, but she knew one thing for sure –she didn't belong in this world of corporate greed and cutthroat competition.

He stopped and gave one look at them, and they resumed their activities. He walked her to the elevator and got in with her. Autumn released the breath that she had been holding all along. She never was much for attention, and their eyes on her made her self-conscious.

Zyler's eyes lingered on Autumn as she stood in the corner, her body language betraying her attempt to control her emotions. He found her vulnerability adorable, and yet there was a resilience in her that intrigued him. It was evident in the way she had handled the call with her mother. There was a depth to her that he wanted to uncover, but for now, he was content to appreciate the simplicity of her being.

He could read her like an open book, and yet there was still so much to discover. He noticed how everyone looked at her, men and women. He didn't give a single fuck who they were. They had no right to look at his girl. He couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness over her.

He stalked over to her, cornering and caging her between his arms. Her eyes went wide. She put his arms over his chest, asking them to move away. If they get caught in this position, they will label her as a scandalous secretary. "Calm down," he clamped his palm on her neck and jerked her head to him.

"No," she clutched his hand, trying to free herself. He pressed the stop button and trailed his hand between her legs. "Stop, please," she urged, the tears ruining her perfectly applied eyeliner as they cascaded down her cheeks. Without hesitation, Zyler reached up and brushed his thumb across her damp skin, collecting the black smudge and smearing it over the mark he had given her earlier.

"Someone will see," she came out with the best she could.

"Let them," he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

"Does the thought scare you, Autumn? Getting caught? Do you think it is arousing?" he twirled her hair on his forefinger. Her shy face was a sight for sore eyes. "Or does it entice you?" He pushed her knee between her thighs, rubbing her sensitive nub with his knee over her panties.

"I can see the fear in your eyes, Autumn. But it's not the thought of getting caught that scares you, is it? No, it's the thought of what they will talk about you. You are worried about running that good girl reputation," he increased the force of his thrusts, rubbing her nub with his knee a little harder.

"You're afraid of what they'll say, aren't you? The whispers behind closed doors, the judgmental glances when you walk into a room," she gave him a side-eye. What he said was true. She was afraid of getting caught. She was afraid of ruining her reputation. That is what the priest that came home to tutor her on the "good things" said. To keep her knees shut and eyes down. The catholic guilt in her told her she would burn in hell. But she was past all of that, wasn't she? Logically, all of this was nothing that she did. It was God's will, wasn't it?

She couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that consumed her. She never wanted any of this to happen. She didn't want to be here, but circumstances brought her to this point. It was like she was being punished for something she never did. The weight of it all was suffocating, and the guilt was eating her alive. She tried to remind herself that it wasn't her fault, that she didn't ask for any of this. But the thought of what others would say and think of her added to her torment. She felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of shame and guilt.