MY Masochistic CEO
Chapter 33 Overtime

Chapter 33: Chapter 33 Overtime

"What do you think?" Melody retorted irritably. "Your project. Do you expect me to do it alone?"

Just then, Mia breezed past me whispering, "If you want to see some sincerity, remember to come find me tonight."

I shot her a glare. This woman was deliberately teasing me.

She was like a fox that had just stolen a chicken, her face breaking into a triumphant smile.

As the clock struck six, the marketing department was emptied of its occupants. Jessica among the last to depart.

Engrossed in my work, I remained at my desk until half past seven, hunger gnawing at my insides to the point where it felt as though my back was adhering to my chest. The cafeteria had long since closed its doors for the day, prompting me to order a pair of takeout meals.

As I awaited the arrival of food, Melody suddenly craned her neck, complaining, "After such a long day, my neck and waist are aching."

Her words instantly illuminated her intentions.

So this was the reason she had requested my presence for overtime!

Yet her hints were so delicately veiled, weren’t they?

A playful urge overcame me, and I feigned ignorance, choosing to remain engrossed in my work.

In an effort to conserve electricity, the overhead lights in the marketing department had been extinguished, leaving only the soft glow of two desk lamps to illuminate our workspace.

Overtime opportunities were a rarity in the marketing department, but travel for work was a frequent occurrence. To facilitate smoother communication, I had chosen the workstation adjacent to hers.

"Melody, it’s not yet complete!" I protested.

"Hand it over," she insisted, extending her hand in a manner that brooked no refusal.

Reluctantly, I shared the incomplete plan with her. After a cursory review, she dismissed it coldly, "Your plan is subpar, unacceptable. Redo it!"

Her words stung. Was this retribution for my failure to offer a massage?

"Allow me to revise it," I offered, returning to the task at hand.

Despite her continued hints, I remained steadfast in my pretense of ignorance. Hunger had sapped me of nearly all my energy. I had none left to spare for a massage.

"William, fetch me a cup of coffee!" she ordered.

Nodding in acquiescence, I collected her cup and retreated to the pantry to prepare her coffee.

Ten minutes later, the takeout arrived. "Melody, you must be famished. Let’s eat," I suggested.

"Takeout is so unhygienic, I..." she began to protest.

The meals I had ordered were a careful selection of her favorite dishes, a balanced assortment of meat and vegetables.

Upon recognizing her favorite dishes, her protestations faltered. I extended the meal towards her, but she remained unmoved.

Did she expect me to feed her?

"I’ll feed you," I offered.

"I don’t want it!" she retorted.

"Come on, you’ll get your hands dirty," I reasoned, adopting a tone that left no room for argument. She had always been partial to a touch of dominance, a hint of tyranny. She wouldn’t refuse.

I picked up a morsel of food with the fork, coaxing, "Open your mouth."

"I won’t!" she defied.

"Be good. You need to eat well to have the energy for overtime," I cajoled, my voice a soothing baritone. "If you don’t open your mouth, I’ll pry it open."

"William, you wouldn’t dare!" she challenged, her eyes ablaze with anger. I met her fiery gaze with calm resolve, her confidence wavering under my steady stare.

After a moment, her eyes took on a wild look, and I noticed her hands wringing together nervously.

"Be a good girl, listen," I urged.

She huffed indignantly, but eventually relented, opening her mouth.

I fed her, bite by bite, maintaining a silence that she didn’t dare to break. The slight squint at the corners of her eyes betrayed her inner satisfaction.

Twenty minutes later, after the final morsel had been consumed, I gently wiped the corners of her mouth with a tissue.

She sat rigidly, a hint of nervousness in her posture. Once I had finished, she finally found her voice. "William, don’t ever speak to me like that again, understand? I’m your supervisor!"

"Exactly because you’re my supervisor, that’s why I did it," I retorted, continuing to eat. "Isn’t it right for colleagues to look out for each other?" Her surprise was evident. "No, it’s not okay. When I say it’s not okay, it means it isn’t. Dare to repeat this, and I’ll dock your pay."

Rather than responding to her threat, I chose to change the subject. "Does your back feel any better?"

"Why are you asking this? Haven’t I made it clear we’re not to discuss this anymore?" Her tone was icy, distant.

She was a complex creature, this woman.

"I couldn’t help but notice you seemed uncomfortable. It must be hard on you staying late to work overtime for my project."

That’s when it hit me. She was without a back cushion. Had she misplaced it?

A wave of annoyance washed over me. "Where’s the back cushion I gave you? Didn’t I mention it could alleviate your back pain?"

I hadn’t realized my tone had hardened until it was too late.

She looked taken aback. "Are... are you angry?"

"What do you think?" I retorted, irritation seeping into my voice.

Her eyes darted around anxiously. The power dynamic in our relationship had shifted in my favor. She gestured towards a cabinet.

"I put it in there."

I crouched down, opened the cabinet, and retrieved the panda cushion, positioning it behind her back. "Leave it here, and don’t stow it away again."

"William, who gave you permission to rummage through my cabinet? And who gave you the right to speak to me in such a manner?"

Her eyes flashed with anger. Her pride and standoffish nature were once again on full display.

I chose not to engage in a confrontation, opting for a more subtle approach.

Setting down the lunchbox, I sighed, "I’m just worried about you. Your back and waist must be aching, right?"

As I spoke, I rested my hand on her shoulder. Physical contact between a man and a woman was a tricky thing. It was either non-existent or incessant.

So, it was wise never to believe the myth of pure friendship between men and women.

If it existed, it was because either the man was too ugly, or the woman was too ugly, to the point where neither could make a move.

"What are you trying to do? Take your dirty hands off!"

She attempted to rise, her voice laced with panic.

I applied pressure with both hands, holding her firmly in place, then leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Don’t be nervous, trust me. I just want to ease your discomfort. If you’re scared, just close your eyes. It’ll be over soon."

Her body shivered, and her resistance weakened. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

"That’s right, just like I taught you before, take deep breaths."

She gradually relaxed, and I began to massage her shoulders. From my vantage point, I could see the deep cleavage and the black lace.

The scent of her aristocratic perfume was intoxicating, a balm to the soul.

I gradually increased the pressure, and she couldn’t suppress a moan.

"Don’t hold back, it’s just the two of us. The security guard just finished his round, and it will be at least half an hour before they come by again!" I coaxed, my voice dripping with seduction.

"Uh-huh!" She hummed, a sound so heart-wrenchingly sweet it felt as though someone was lightly tickling my heart with a feather.

Massaging her shoulders was no longer enough.

"Melody, may I massage your waist?"

She remained silent, and I took her silence as consent.

But her blazer was a hindrance. I whispered in her ear. "Melody, your blazer is a bit in the way. May I help you remove it?"

Her eyes flew open, her hands clenched tightly. But before she could utter a word, I acted, swiftly removing her blazer.

My hands traveled from her lower back to her waist, pressing firmly against her.

"Hmm."

Her waist was a tender spot, a place where tension melted away at the slightest touch. The rigidity that had held her body captive, vanished in an instant.

In that moment, I leaned in, my breath tickling her ear as I whispered,

"Melody, would you mind leaning on the desk?"

Her delicate ear and the loose strands of hair brushed against my face, stirring a sensation that was hard to ignore. As she complied, laying her upper body across the workstation, I found myself extending my tongue in anticipation.

Her chest was pressed against the cold surface of the desk, a sight that from my vantage point, was nothing short of exhilarating.

I couldn’t help but entertain the thought that perhaps, tonight, something might transpire between us. It would be a challenge, no doubt, but it was merely a matter of navigating her psychological vulnerabilities.

My hands moved with a practiced ease, employing every technique I had mastered over the years. Her body quivered under my touch, her soft moans growing louder with each passing moment. "Melody, I can’t apply much force in this position... how about you sit on me, just like we did in the elevator earlier today? It’ll be easier for me to leverage."

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