by Jamie Knight
I have gathered enough wits to tell him, when he beats me to it. Raising his hand, it’s as if suddenly the ambience of the room changes to dark and romantic.
There is a change in music as soft tunes drift to me slowly. Liam rounds the table to take a knee right beside me, as he pulls my hands into his.
Oh my. What is he up to now?
“I have loved you for a year now, Anna, and with time I feel like I love you even more.”
He is looking straight into my eyes with such intensity in his own.
“I can’t spend the rest of my life with anyone that is not you, Anna.” He grips my hands tighter, transferring them to one hand and produces a black velvet small box from his jacket’s pocket, popping it open. “Will you marry me, Anna?”
Will I marry him?
Of course I will marry him.
“Yes. I will. Also, I’m pregnant.”
I find myself blurting this out and a dozen eyes look my way. I regret almost instantly saying that.
Liam looks at me glancing around the restaurant, as if he’s amused with me.
“I thought as much. Now, just to be sure, will you marry me?”
I say yes again, and add “of course,” this time, and I really mean every word of it. I even mean every word of it when I tell him I love him. He gathers me in his arms, swinging me around and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the universe.
Later, in his huge bed, he goes down on me, sucking on my clit and fingering my pussy hole until I cum. Then we change positions and I take his big cock in my mouth, remembering the first time I saw it on the screen.
I was so innocent back then, and so shocked. Now, nothing we do to each other could surprise me, and that’s just the way I like it. I stroke his shaft while I suck on the head of his cock, coyly looking up at my fiancé.
“Oh, my God, Anna, that feels so good,” he says. “But I need to fuck you. I want to cum in that tight little pussy of yours.”
“Yes, Sir,” I tell him, obediently straddling him and settling down onto his dick.
It feels so raw and good in my pussy that I never want to get off of it.
He slaps my ass cheeks a bit and says, “That’s my good girl. That’s why I’m marrying you.”
“Because of this?” I ask, writhing around on his cock.
My pussy juices are dripping out all over him.
“Exactly.”
He thrusts in and out of me, holding tight to my ass with one hand while with the other he plays with my nipple.
“Mmm, I love when you do that, Liam,” I tell him. “It feels so good.”
“It sure does,” he agrees, as I feel his cock pulsing and throbbing inside my pussy.
He’s cramming and stuffing me so full that I can’t hold back for one moment longer. I begin to moan and shout out his name as I cum.
“Yes, that’s it,” he says. “Cum all over my cock. And I’m going to shoot my load into your soaking wet pussy.”
“I love your big, hard cock,” I tell him, as I obediently cum all over it, slipping and sliding up and down it now.
“And I love your tight little pussy I fucked for its very first time,” he says, as he holds on tight to my nipple as he cums in my pussy.
We both climax together, panting and groaning, and then I lower myself onto his strong chest and washboard abs. I’m home with him, exactly where I belong.
“I love you, my fiancé,” I whisper into his ear.
“I love you, too, my always and forever wife.”
When I had first heard that we needed to quarantine and work from home, I was resentful of the fact that video cameras existed and would be tracking my every move so that my job would know I was actually working. But now, for the first time in my life, I am grateful for their existence.
They gave me the perfect man, after all.
THE END
Below Deck
Locked Down with My Boss on a Cruise
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.
All rights reserved.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
Chapter One - Carrie
The best laid plans soon falter. Or something like that anyway. Though what you never really hear about are plans that aren’t laid at all, events in life that come out of nowhere and blindside you like bad news on an idle Sunday afternoon.
I knew what I wanted to do. I had the whole cliché childhood dream. I was going to be a performer. Broadway was my ultimate goal. I trained for years, both vocally and physically. Few really appreciate the exertion and control required for proper technique, particularly in terms of belting. But you also had to be able to sing quietly and in all contexts.
Standing, sitting, even lying flat on your back with a hunk of debris in your side, as with my dream role of Epinine in Les Misérables. I still had a scar on my head, small and faded but present, from when my sister threw a shoe at me when I wouldn’t stop singing “On My Own” around the house. My hair was blonde like Cosette, but should it change color at all, I would bloody well dye it if I had to.
I didn’t have to. It never really came up because I never really got the chance to audition. Fate, striking like a train, sent me over the roof of a car as I rode to practice one lovely Saturday afternoon. I could still technically walk, but nowhere near what would be needed for the rigors of the theatre. Permanent paralysis was the possible cost. Another career had to be found, and quickly.
While nearly cliché as the best laid plans, it was also usually true that fate rarely closed a door without opening a window. No sooner had I been released from the hospital with a cane to help me walk and a big bastard bill to keep me from sleeping, I saw the ad. MP Solutions was looking for interns. An exciting opportunity for someone with the right attitude. No experience necessary.
It never failed. There were, in fact, three certainties in life. Death, taxes and get-out-and-walk traffic. No matter how early you left, or the day of the week, it would find you eventually, like the blood-curdling inevitability of a demon’s dark curse that choked out the city sky and crushed all hope of a punctual return.
The impotent rage of the prisoners of circumstance was expressed in a flurry of ineffectual honking that really only hurt their fellow inmates. The nefarious monsters behind the construction schedule were safe within their gated fortresses.
It was like an open-air music festival with dozens of acts set up within inches of each other, all competing to be heard over the other. Salsa to the left of me. Metal to the right, Stealers Wheel stuck in the middle, and K-Pop and Top 40 somewhere in the distance. All blocked out, for the most part, by “Worst Pies in London” in my very own head.
I was apparently the only one in hundreds to think to wear headphones. I only kept one bud in at a time when the traffic was actually moving of course. At that moment, however, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to listen for.
As I waited for the horrors of modernity to relent, I set my mind to the day to come. Mostly to my boss, the smokin’ hot and absurdly intelligent Maxwell James Morgan. Replete in his finely tailored suit, inky black to match his liquid eyes.
He was deep and wise beyond his 29 years, which went a ways to explain how he had managed to qualify for the Fortune 500 when he was not yet 30. It really was enough to make a girl wet. Me in particular. It was a bit embarrassing, but there was more than one occasion when it all just got too much and I had spent the majority of my lunch break in the single-occupancy bathroom, fingering myself to quiet orgasm, imaging his beautiful eyes looking up at me from between my thighs as he ate me out. It got even worse, and better, after I was promoted to his assistant in addition to my duties as an agent.
With everything else that was happening in the vast and expanding universe, did it really matter if I was fifteen minutes late getting into the office when I knew for a fact that Max spent the first twenty minutes of every workday meditating in his office, preparing his beautiful body and brilliant mind for an
other day of innovation and would never know unless someone ratted me out? Of course it didn’t. Unfortunately, not everyone shared this philosophy.
“Late again?” Lauren asked, clicking her tongue in the most patronizing way possible.
“Depends on your perspective,” I said, placidly as I could manage.
“What is Max’s perspective?”
“Non-existent because he isn’t going to know, and if you try to tell him he won’t believe you. He’s more of the seeing is believing type and has a marked distaste for gossip.”
I didn’t know if the last part was true, but neither did Lauren, so it was certainly worth a try. She was always trying to pull some dirty trick. Not just on me.
She seemed to have it in for anyone who got in the way of what she wanted. She usually got away with it too. She was a dangerous combination of evil cunning and ethereal beauty, combined with the moral compass of Elizabeth Bathory.
“Still though. I think it might be time for him to look for someone more reliable to fill the all-important role of his assistant. Someone who, for example, can actually get to work on time.”
“By taking the subway?”
It was a killing blow. Lauren fell deathly silent as I continued on my way to my corner office right next to Max’s. I had to be close so I could be there whenever he needed me. After his morning meditation of course. It was a cheap shot, but she deserved it. The greatest of Lauren’s failings, and there were many, was her entirely baseless superiority complex. She went about the place like she was the queen bee in her fake Tiffany’s jewelry and knock-off Chenille suits.
The chair creaked slightly as I eased into the soft leather. The tension of the drive in melted away as I was enveloped in comfort. Max really had spared no expense. I wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for me as a co-worker and my efficient work for the firm or if, perhaps, he felt the same way about me that I did about him. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
Granted, he was a god among humans in the looks and intelligence department, but I wasn’t exactly a cabbage either. I was no supermodel, I was well aware, but people didn’t exactly cross the street to get away from me either. And I had gotten more than one double-take when walking down the street. Especially in my Donna Karen number with the skintight, thigh length skirt. It was true that things were different in New York.
The standards for everything were higher, even people. It could make you crazy unless you could keep perspective. Luckily, I knew that while I might have been a New York 5 I would be a solid 7 1/2 most other places in the world.
Taking off my shoes, as was the custom, I booted up my work computer and waited for my sweet master to beckon. A little thrill went through me every time he said my name. Especially when he yelled it from the other room, commanding my undivided attention. It was something I was more than willing to give, along with a whole lot more.
As I waited, I got into the work I still had as an agent that I wanted to get done before the weekend. Time ticked away at a steady rhythm, stuck between fast and slow. The minute seemed like minutes and the hour seemed like hours.
“Carrie!”
My master’s voice! I yelped with joy and delight, getting up and rushing into his office so fast that I neglected to put my shoes back on. Fortunately, he didn’t really notice. His head was still buried in work as I arrived. I quickly sat down in the chair opposite his desk. Hiding my bare feet beneath it. I crossed my legs on instinct. My tight little pussy was already dripping with desire for his manly form.
He was a good bit older than me. Nearly six years. I had just turned 19 the month before, my rise through the firm pretty fast. I worked my ass off out of desire rather than need. I actually loved my job and wanted to do as well at it as I could. Max gave the ultimate show of his approval by promoting me yet again, making me his right-hand girl. A phrase which always led me to fantasizing about jerking him off, his beautiful cock throbbing in my small hand as I stroked him to ecstasy.
He hadn’t spoken yet, still in his work. He wanted me present for when he was done. I had no problem with that at all. It just gave me more time to be with him in all his wonderful glory. Keeping quiet, I started to think. The fantasies came faster than I could keep up. There was no hope of stopping them, even if I had wanted to.
He looked at me. His beautiful eyes seemed to look into my very soul as he got up and came around to my side of the desk. As he moved, he started taking off his belt. I thought maybe I had been a naughty girl and my master was going to spank me. I pictured myself bent over his desk, skirt gathered up around my hips, panties around my ankles, bare ass raised to him in obedient offering.
That was not his plan, however. Instead of bending me over and spanking me raw, Max took down his fly, unleashing his monster cock. The throbbing cock was mere inches from my wet little mouth. Not needing to be told twice, I opened wide, not gagging once as he slipped in, getting more than half his cock inside before stopping. Closing my lips around him in a warm, loving mouth-hug, I started to suck, massaging my lips along his magnificent manhood in long, soft, silken strokes.
As I sucked his beautiful cock, Max started unbuttoning my shirt until all the buttons were undone, unveiling my firm, young tits. My pencil-eraser sized nipples already stood at attention, eager for his touch. He indulged me, cupping his hand over my tit. He massaged the soft, pale flesh like a mound of fresh dough, making me gently hum as I sucked his cock until he delivered his massive load into my eager mouth.
Laying his hand on the back of my neck, Max guided me to my feet before his big desk and gently bent me over. Rather than spanking me as I had first thought, he hiked up my skirt and pulled down my panties, exposing me fully to the cool, fresh air, and eased the head of his cock into my warm, cozy pussy.
Laying one hand on the small of my back and taking my loose blond ponytail with the other, my handsome, dominant master fucked me, pounding his massive cock into my tight little pussy until I screamed with joy.
I squeezed my thighs together even tighter as I sat in his office that momentous Friday morning. The heat already gathering between my legs upgrading to a total fucking inferno.
“I - ”
Max stopped cold. His eyes pulled to my chest, as though by an invisible, magnetic force, I looked down too, noticing that one of the buttons on my shirt had come open again. The middle one. Right between my tits, offering a generous view of the healthy pink flesh beyond. I quickly did it up again, pulling my suit jacket closed over top.
“I was wondering if you would like to go with me for lunch,” he said, as though he had to ask.
“Sure,” I said, trying to suppress my gushing enthusiasm.
“Great. Get your shoes back on and meet me down in the lobby.”
He noticed. Of course, he noticed. He was nothing if not perceptive. He could probably tell what I’d had for breakfast that morning, strawberry Pop Tart, from my breath.
The Ariba café was pretty close to the office, so we didn’t have to get the cars out. Instead, we walked the mean Manhattan streets, my heels clicking on the pavement and my ass swaying as I went, something that always happened when I wore heels.t was just how I was built.
I got a few glances at my boobs even with my jacket closed, but I honestly didn’t take much notice. My mind at that moment focused on walking in a straight line and resisting the urge to take Max by the hand like we were some kind of couple anywhere other than in my mind. He probably didn’t even notice me.
Not that he didn’t care, just not in that way. It could have been that he saw me as a respectable and efficient employee, which was no bad thing. It was just that I wanted to be all that in addition to serving as his personal fuck toy. Was that too much to ask?
Both of us ordered our usual and sat on the patio to enjoy the nice day. Not too hot, not too cold, the light clouds provided a buffer from the radiant sun while still in no way threatening rain. I gave a moment’s thought to taking off my jacket but figured after what ha
ppened in his office, it was probably better to keep it on.
Otherwise, he might think I was coming on to him. Which I would have been, as well as relieving a bit of the heat, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to know that. I hoped that he might see me how I wanted him to. I imagined that he did but didn’t know that for sure and didn’t want to risk embarrassing myself.
“I’ve had an idea for a project, and I wanted to get your opinion.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my cool.
I was excited and honored that he would think to ask me, though I still had to wonder why. There were so many other agents at the firm who were older and more experienced than I was.
“Who, besides yourself of course, would you say is the best agent?”
“Thomas,” I said quickly, though it also happened to be true.
“Really?”
“Yes, he’s a real workhorse. Been in the business longer than anyone and really knows the ins and outs. I mean, you don’t need me to tell you, but he got us some of our biggest clients, including White & White.”
“That’s not quite what I meant. See I was thinking - ”
“O Fortuna” rang out over the table and Max had to get his phone, not really looking happy about it.
“Morgan,” he said sharply, “Yeah, oh, hey man. You what? Fuck!”
Tossing a twenty onto the table, Max got up and walked away from the table, taking a small bit of my self-esteem along with him. Left alone at the bistro table, next to the dangerously bustling sidewalk, I sipped my hot chocolate with whipped cream, not really wanting my bagel anymore and quietly cried.
Chapter Two - Max
I felt bad about leaving Carrie like that. I left enough money to pay for both of us plus a generous tip, but I didn’t look back. Not because I didn’t care but because I couldn't. I had to focus on the call, and I knew if I saw her, I would hang up immediately and go back to her. Good in the short term, terrible in the long term.