Under His Influence (Love Under Lockdown Book 27) Read online




  Under His Influence

  Quarantined with My Rockstar Boss

  Love Under Lockdown, Book 27

  A series of standalone quarantine romance books.

  Copyright © 2021 Jamie Knight Romance.

  All rights reserved.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  Here are the books so far in the Love Under Lockdown series:

  1): Under Lock & Key

  2): Under Lockdown

  3): Under Strict Orders

  4): Stuck Together

  5): Under His Roof

  6): Under the Hawaiian Sun

  7): Under Wraps

  8): Under His Care

  9): Under the Sheets

  10): Dating During Lockdown

  11): Under His Protection

  12): Locked Down with Mr. Right

  13): Under His Watchful Eye

  14): Below Deck

  15): Under the Rancher’s Firm Hand

  16): Under His Suit

  17): Who Wants to Lock Down a Billionaire?

  18): Under His Discipline

  19): Under the Want Ads

  20): Cramped Quarters

  21): Lock Step

  22): Under His Ownership

  23): Under the Mistletoe

  24): Under the Countdown

  25): Under Cupid’s Contract

  26): Under His Charm

  27): Under His Influence

  New books are always being added.

  Click here to see the entire series!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Jonna

  Chapter Two - Seth

  Chapter Three - Jonna

  Chapter Four - Seth

  Chapter Five - Jonna

  Chapter Six - Seth

  Chapter Seven - Jonna

  Chapter Eight - Seth

  Chapter Nine - Jonna

  Chapter Ten - Seth

  Chapter Eleven - Jonna

  Chapter Twelve - Seth

  Epilogue - Jonna

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  Sneak Peek of Under His Charm

  Books in the Love Under Lockdown Series

  Chapter One - Jonna

  I woke up and pinched myself, still thinking I had to be dreaming.

  But no. The TV was still on from the night before, when I had fallen asleep watching some comedy re-run.

  I was awake and this was real.

  I couldn’t believe I had gotten the internship at the record label. And that I was going to be working for the one and only Seth Black.

  Since this was reality and not a dream, I had to focus on my plan.

  Yes, the news was saying that there was a new pandemic— a virus called Covid-19 that was getting worse and that might cause strict restrictions or lockdowns— but I turned the TV off, not wanting to hear any doom and gloom today.

  Today, I was concentrating on the things right in front of me.

  Leave early.

  That was the plan, jotted out in black ink on bright yellow Post-it notes plastered all over my apartment. Just in case I was at risk of forgetting, which, considering my excitement, was unlikely. But still, it was my first day at my new internship and there was no way in hell I was going to be late.

  I’d been so surprised to get the call letting me know I had been selected. I had no doubt about my credentials, certain I could do as well as anyone else.

  It was just that everyone and their mother who had any interest in music wanted this internship, and they had to have had some amazing credentials, too. There were over fourteen hundred applicants. That number was made all the more impressive by the fact that the position was an unpaid internship.

  Such was the influence that Seth Black and Suspicious Activity Records possessed. It was almost like a superpower. Particularly in the Pacific Northwest, where they had surpassed even Sub Pop as the biggest small label going. Until that ‘small label’ grew to the point that ‘huge’ was the only accurate way to describe it.

  But somehow, I had been the one selected. And now was my chance to catapult from intern to paid employee, which was my goal.

  My heart soared with pure hope. My sister Stephanie had been out of town on business when I got the job, but she had told me that this was my one chance, and I knew she was right. I checked my phone and saw that she had sent me a “thumbs up” emoji in response to the “fingers crossed” emoji I had sent her last night before drifting off.

  You’ve got this, she texted me along with the emoji. Don’t worry.

  I did my best to listen to my wise sister’s advice.

  I got dressed as I’d planned the night before in an outfit that I hoped would scream “appreciative fan and grateful intern” rather than “desperate to impress.”

  It had the name of Seth Black’s band on it: Autumn Corrosion.

  He had risen to stardom as a musician before starting the record label for which I was about to intern.

  And I loved listening to his music. Autumn Corrosion was still my favorite band. So, I thought the t-shirt was a good idea to wear, a nod in homage to him.

  I had my bag ready and waiting by the door and my keys above it. A package of Pop-Tarts was standing ready beside the toaster.

  I had even made sure to check the oil and gas level in my car, while also ensuring the gas can was full. Everything was ready. There was absolutely nothing that could go wrong.

  After jumping up and down in a few jumping jacks to get my adrenaline flowing, I tied back my already-washed hair with an elastic band that had already been on my wrist. Plunking my breakfast into the toaster, I did the short round trip from the door for my bag and keys, back to the kitchen.

  Just moments after I entered the room, the toaster popped cheerfully, and I carefully plucked the hot pastry from its coils. Breakfast in hand, I was in the dew-chilled car before the sun was fully visible.

  All the other drivers on the road must have been fucking insomniacs. Or real go-getters who loved their jobs more than they loved sleep. That was the only way my mind could fathom getting stuck in a traffic jam at that early hour.

  It was a time of the morning when most sane people were still in bed. Or so I’d been led to believe. I didn’t mind not being sane if it meant I got to work on time. Turned out I had company on the crazy train.

  Despite the remarkable lack of movement, my motor was on, lest I miss the opportunity to move up another blessed foot. I dipped into the collection of CDs in my glovebox, which held as many pieces from my extensive collections as I felt safe carrying in the car.

  I still couldn’t believe I was going to work for the guy who had started a revolution in music. I knew everything about my new boss, Seth Black, because he was my ages-old crush.

  I had looked up anything I hadn’t known about him before applying for the internship, but I had already known a lot because I had devoured any news of him, anything he wrote or said, just plain everything I could get my hands on.

  My music obsession had taken hold when I was 12 years old and had persisted up until the current day. I knew that Seth Black was as much of a purist as I was when it came to audio purity, and the majority of my collection was actually on vinyl. I just didn’t have space for the originals in my car, let alone my turntable.

  Plus, he was fucking hot.

  I knew I shouldn’t think of
my new boss that way, but I couldn’t help it.

  And yet here I was stuck in traffic on the first day I had the opportunity to work with him. I was impatient but told myself to calm down.

  The player in my car made its familiar sound, the second of silence broken by time slowing crush of the backbeat as I cranked it up. A sound that made you stop and take notice, no matter where you were or what you were doing.

  I got more than a few dirty looks from my fellow prisoners of consequence. They were more expressions of confusion that outright antagonism, which was more than I could say for the folk back home. They were tolerant of everything except difference.

  I was barely through the first track on the album, jutting up out of the vinyl seat and practically vibrating with excitement and nerves, when finally, mercifully, the line of vehicles actually moved.

  There were five entire minutes of time to elapse before I could officially be considered late.

  I was, therefore, officially early.

  Glass half full and all that.

  But still I worried that I hadn’t gotten to the office before my new boss had arrived, which I felt to be some kind of cardinal sin. I was determined to come earlier and stay later than he did.

  “Am I late?” I asked no one in particular, as soon as I walked into the office.

  “Not yet, on the upside he is, so you’ve got time,” said the receptionist.

  Clad in a black, Georgian-style dress, with spidery hair and just enough grease paint to look cool without over doing it, she wore her weirdness like a badge.

  “Time for what?” I asked, innocent as a little lamb.

  “To get to Seth’s office and wait for him, of course. You and Seth will be working very closely together. He likes to teach by doing… says it makes the information stick better.”

  I certainly couldn’t argue with that. Doing things was always the best way I learned. We hadn’t even met yet and Seth Black and I were already agreeing on things.

  I’d always felt a sense of connection with him, not least because of our shared musical taste. One that I had yet to have contradicted. We would just have to see what happened when we were in the same room together.

  “I’m Holly, by the way,” the receptionist said, rolling out from behind the counter.

  Of course she was Holly— the name suited her perfectly. I wouldn’t have been surprised if her surname was something cool like Spektor.

  “Holly Jones,” she said, as though reading my mind.

  It must have been a question she got a lot, and therefore could predict.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Here we are,” Holly said, stopping in front of a nondescript door.

  “Thanks,” I said to her rapidly disappearing back.

  The door was unlocked. I’d always been told to knock first, but I already knew Seth wasn’t in and unless I wanted to stand out in the hallway until he got there, I figured I’d better go in and sit down. Unless it was all an elaborate prank and the door that I was standing in front of went to the janitor’s closet or something.

  The ‘cool kids’ in high school, known as ‘the cruel kids’ to most of their victims, did something similar to freshmen every year. Lucky for me, when it was my turn, I’d already seen them do it to someone else and wasn’t fooled. I was late for class but wasn’t fooled.

  The office was a modern, minimalist space. From what I could see, there were two main sections of activity. A desk on which was set a computer and a landline phone, as well as what looked like a listening station. It had a comfy looking chair next to one of those old-style stereos that somehow managed to pack a turntable and two tape decks into it.

  There was also a slightly newer, multi-disc CD player next to it. Though none of the equipment, aside from the computer, looked like it dated after 2000, it looked weird in a way, but I could also respect someone who knew what they liked and what worked for them.

  Seth Black was definitely a 90s kid. It seemed like he’d been around for decades, which, I guess technically, he had been. Though he’d also started the earliest incarnation of Suspicious Activity as a teenager, so he could only be in his late 30’s or maybe early 40’s.

  The chair creaked its welcome. There was a scent I couldn’t identify but found I quite liked. It smelled like leather mixed with something else. Something natural and masculine. I took a deep breath in, my hormones stoking like a bonfire.

  I crossed my legs and squeezed. It was too late to keep my panties from getting wet, but the least I could do was try and keep him from noticing. That really wasn’t the best impression to make. I knew I was only there for an internship, at least to start. It was important that he took me seriously, rather than as a silly kid who became excited at the slightest provocation.

  Particularly because I wasn’t.

  I was 19 and still a virgin. In fact, it could take a lot to get me turned on. In normal circumstances, anyway. There were still triggers that I had that set me right off. Sitting down in that office had somehow magically hit all the buttons.

  I hoped I wouldn’t let it slip, how much I had stalked Seth. That would be a secret I planned to take to my grave- this burning desire to know all about him and be around him, and now here I was, about to do that in person.

  In the past, I’d seen lots of pictures, visiting the Suspicious Activity Records website every day. It had a live camera feed that people could watch, to see the inner workings of records being recorded.

  And watch it I did. Several times, most days. No matter when I would visit the website, there he would be, like a welcoming friend. Sometimes alone but usually with some employee or another, or a member of one of the bands signed to the label.

  You could almost chart the change in him. He’d started out as a producer, but as the label grew, he found himself taking on more responsibility, delegating his former tasks to producers he hired to work under him.

  His hair got shorter and his clothes plainer. No longer mistakable for one of the musicians, he had become ‘The One in Charge.’ And I thought that was hot as fuck.

  Even with his new levels of responsibility, though, it didn’t seem like he changed all that much in terms of his basic personality. He might have traded his plaids for polo shirts and shaved off his awesome beard, but there was still the same twinkle in his eyes, obscured as they were by thick-framed glasses, and an impish half smile in every image, be it digital or analog. (It was strange to think there could be anyone who crossed over, the digital revolution starting before I was born.)

  There had always been the rumors. At least since he got famous. People said he had certain proclivities in the bedroom, which were talked about with whispers and innuendo. It was nothing awful; I’d never heard about him hurting anyone.

  He could just get a bit kinky. That was something that was beginning to intrigue me more and more.

  Would he ever want to do those things to me?

  I could feel my cheeks burning just at the mere thought of it.

  It was wildly inappropriate to think like this. He was my boss after all, but that still didn’t stop me from letting my mind wander there. I rarely did what I was told with regard to my body, never mind inside my own head. As far as I was concerned, that was sacred space no one else had any right to.

  It was a sentiment that seemed to be generally shared. Otherwise, Orwell’s invention of ‘thought crime’ wouldn’t have been consistently met with such abject horror.

  No, my thoughts were my own, and they were fixed on Seth Black. In an increasingly sexy context. I knew I couldn’t touch myself, but it was a difficult struggle when the daydreams started.

  We were in that very office, at least in my head. I had just come in after being called by Seth, or ‘Sir,’ as I called him when addressing him directly.

  “Yes, sir?” I asked in my fantasy, stopping in front of his desk as he had instructed me to.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

 
“Yes, sir!” I enthused, going to him, my spine— and other parts of me— already tingling.

  As I approached, he rolled back in his chair so I could see his lap. Not to mention his raging hard on.

  I stopped short, my eyes fixed on his bulge, hoping he would let me suck his obviously big cock. But my master had something else in mind. He was lightly patting his lap in a way we both understood.

  With his help, I lay across his lap, face down, his bulge pressing enticingly against my tummy. I could almost feel the throb through the material of his pants.

  “Oh,” I gasped, feeling his hand on my ass, even before he’d pulled up my skirt.

  Stroking me through the cloth of my skirt, Seth helped relax me, a sigh of pleasure escaping my lungs as I slumped harder against him.

  I could almost feel the goosebumps rising on my exposed skin as my master pushed up my skirt, leaving my ass bared to the open air, save for a rather skimpy pair of silk panties. This condition was short-lived, Seth deftly removing my already wet panties with one hand, stroking my lower back with the other as he did so.

  With a deep, cleansing breath I got ready for the first slap, Seth surprising me by gently stroking me. The gentleness of his caress let me know it was a play spank, and not serious discipline.

  Taking time to warm me up, he let in with the first strike. A short, hard smack with a flat palm. Repeating it a few more times, he started striking upwards with a slightly cupped hand. Just when I was relaxed, he gave a sharp downward strike with just his fingers, to make sure I was paying attention.

  Returning to the gentle scoops, he slipped two fingers from his other hand into my pussy, working me up to a squirming orgasm on his lap.

  I really wanted to touch myself now, but I didn’t, and it was a good thing. I snapped back to reality when the door opened, yanking myself back into reality so fast it almost hurt.

  Seth had arrived, and I had to pull myself together.

  Chapter Two - Seth

  The thump was maddening. I opened my eyes, seeing nothing but the brass ceiling tiles. They were sturdy and antique, decorated with an ever-repeating pattern. A Brigid’s Knot, to be exact, which was associated with the Gaelic pagan goddess of healers, poets, smiths and inspiration.

 

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