Shelter in Place: Quarantine Romance Collection Includes New Novella

by Jamie Knight

My heart soared, but I tried to ignore my racing pulse to maintain my righteous indignation.

  “Then why did you have me researched and tailed?”

  ”I wanted to know you,” he says mournfully, “And you wouldn’t tell me. I had to know if you were safe with me.’

  “And am I, safe with you?” I shouted over the din of the heavy thunder spitting above us.

  He pulled me in. “You are. Fuck Robert. Fuck your past. I want to know you now. I want you, Harlee.”

  The warmth of his mouth was the center of my whole universe right now, and I moved closer to it.

  “And I love you Caleb. Against my better judgement.”

  He laughed as he took me into his arms and let us fall to the ground. I straddled him and felt his warm thick shaft protrude. He smirked.

  “Here?” I asked.

  “Anywhere. Everywhere, Harlee.”

  He tugged a condom from his pocket and after the brief pause to roll it on, he slid home. I grabbed onto his shoulders and clasped his skin with my nails. I kissed him. I ran my tongue down his cheek on him and tasted his salty sweat diluted by the rain.

  The smell of the wet soil was a comfort, homey in my nostrils, and I pounded into his thighs with no thoughts, no regret, no pain, and all pleasure and love. I looked up at the sky, and a crack of lightning drew across it. My body exploded at the sound of thunder, and I screamed in blissful pleasure as he erupted beneath me.

  Epilogue - Harlee

  One Year Later

  That text message had been from a phone smuggled into prison. I still don’t know how Robert had found me or gotten my number, but at least I could rest easy knowing that he was locked behind bars.

  The pandemic chaos still hasn’t fully let up, but honestly, Caleb and I don’t care. We never went back, after deciding that the ranch felt like home to us both. So Caleb had packed up the company and moved it here to New York.

  I sit in his lap watching the rainbow of clouds float by. The setting sun shines against the sky, but nor nearly as bright as the rings shining against my left hand.

  We didn’t have a lot of close family, and with the pandemic, it didn’t make sense to have a big wedding. We’ll have a party for our friends later, but for now, we had a little celebration, Jillian witnessed our elopement at the courthouse, and now I was Harlee Johnson.

  I let out a happy sigh and coiled my arms around Caleb’s neck. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a hell of a view,” he murmured.

  I looked at him, and he wasn’t looking at the sunset at all, but at my body. I’m sheathed in nothing but one of his t-shirts at the moment. We’ve had a lazy Sunday today, sleeping in and enjoying breakfast in bed before taking a nice, long trail ride and having a picnic.

  It felt like magic, like a fairytale dream, and some little part of me was still sort of waiting to wake up. But my nightmare part was behind me, and I was living the dream come true now.

  I leaned in to kiss him, and felt the fires stoked inside me. No matter how many times we kissed, no matter how much we got of each other, we always wanted more. No kiss stayed sweet and innocent, we were all over each other like a couple of hormone-addled teenagers.

  Hard to believe he’d taken me from virgin novice to his own personal assistant…in every way.

  His hands ventured under my dress, and he made a pleased sound of surprise when his hand slid up my thigh to find nothing in his way. I didn’t always go commando now, but honestly, he’d ruined enough pairs of my panties by shredding them that I didn’t bother often.

  I reached down for the zipper of his jeans and drew his cock out of his pants. Thick, hard, pulsing and just waiting for me. And with him teasing my entrance with those skilled fingers, it doesn’t take long before I’m wet and ready for him.

  He hiked up my skirt and I lowered myself down onto him, his pussy sinking deep, deep into me. We’d stopped using condoms recently after a lengthy discussion. While we weren’t actively trying to start a family, we both decided that we were ready to see what would happen.

  And I relished the feeling of him raw inside me. I loved it, and I loved it even more when he filled me, marking me from the inside.

  So now, as I was riding him, that’s what I was reaching for. I know, with him, my own pleasure is a guarantee, but I got a thrill out of making him groan and gasp for me.

  I tightened the walls of my cunt around him and he let out a low hiss, his fingers digging into my hips. “Fuck, Harlee, you’re so fucking tight.”

  I bent down and kissed him, hard, too breathless to answer as an orgasm spirals through me and makes me see stars.

  But even as he wrought every last drop of pleasure from the climax, pumping into me over and over and sending aftershock after aftershock rippling through me, I wanted more, and once I’d recovered, I rode him harder.

  “I just can’t get enough of you,” I breathed, “I love you, Caleb, I love you so much.”

  “And I love you, Harlee Johnson,” He murmured in my ear.

  He loved using my new full name. He loved that I belonged to him and him alone, and he proved it as another orgasm wracked me and he reached his own.

  He bathed my insides in his hot, load, and carefully lifted me off of him while keeping me snug and secured in his lap.

  I could feel my own arousal mixed with his seed dripping down my thighs, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  All I cared about was this beautiful sunset, and this magical moment with the love m

  THE END

  Under His Discipline

  Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.

  All rights reserved.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  Chapter 1 - Charli

  An electric current jolted from my core, fizzing my nerve endings.

  How had I gotten so lucky?

  Sure, some graduates got jobs at important companies right out of college, but this was almost silly. At nineteen, zipping right through the two-year journalism degree I’d started when I was seventeen, I had already landed a job with the editor and publisher of Here and Now, the country’s biggest current affairs magazine.

  I pinched myself when I picked up the message just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I had dreams like that a lot. The phrase “daydreams and aspirations” was literal in my case. Sometimes, it was like I could see the future through my dreams.

  I didn’t understand what had made me stand out. I had done my best to get as far in the selection process as I could, but still, there must have been a million girls ready to throw puppies out of windows to have an opportunity like the one I’d been offered.

  Pride and anxiety fought a pitched battle in my mind. Pride in myself that I had landed such an outstanding role and anxiety that I’d secured such an important job—neither side seemed to get the upper hand. Along with the I.T. Department, executive assistants were the ones who kept things going at the larger organizations.

  CEOs were only human and therefore equipped with the standard-issue two hands and one brain (though the latter was debatable sometimes), so they needed help from paid underlings like me. Our job was to make them look good and to help justify their high salaries.

  To be fair, the greatest among them must have some skill in terms of management. Even the finest trainer still couldn’t herd cats.

  I felt a little twinge of worry when I thought about the particular CEO of the magazine I would be working for, who was known to be a player. I didn’t just mean in terms of always having a different girlfriend, but I also meant that he liked to have playthings—pets, as he called them. I had read an editorial he wrote in his own magazine in response to tabloid rumors alleging that he enjoyed BDSM.

  “Yes, I do,” he had written. “And there is nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to that. People have different tastes and proclivities, and I have very particular needs. BDSM can help us explore the world within ourselves.
Through pleasure. Through pain. Through play.”

  There were some women who refused to even apply to work there thanks to that op-ed. But I couldn’t forget the words he had written because they excited me.

  I thought about working for a man who could so openly own his sexuality, who was so different from me—I had never even had sex at all and barely knew my own sexual tastes—in that regard, and I thought it could only be a good thing. A way to broaden my own horizons and gain confidence.

  What to wear for my first day left my stomach in knots. A small world of options lay across my mattress, and yet I stood paralyzed by choice. Should I go stuffy and professional or sexy and flirty?

  Well, maybe not sexy and flirty, but showing my femininity couldn’t hurt. That way, if I screwed up, my boss might keep me around just to look at me. Anything was possible. I chose something in between.

  I was plus-sized, and it was hard for me to find clothes that flattered my curvy frame without fitting too tightly or revealing too much. But I had managed to become pretty good at shopping for my body type and I had a small wardrobe I was proud of.

  I put on a sleeveless blouse that did pleasant things for my boobs and a pleated skirt that came halfway down my thighs. I looked at my reflection in my full-length mirror, liking what I saw. Showy, but not sexy. Professional but not prudish.

  The downside was the outfit demanded high heels. I had two pairs, but I hadn’t attempted to wear heels since prom.

  Throughout college, I lived in sneakers or flip flops. I placed a hand on my stomach, trying to calm myself. Surely, walking in heels would come back soon enough.

  I squeezed my feet into a black pair of three-inch pumps, took a deep breath, and wobbled toward my bedroom door.

  Three steps were all it took until I damn near face-planted. The hardwood floor gave my knees a good bash, but it could have been worse.

  I assessed the damage. Everything looked okay. Not even a bruise, which was surprising. Usually, bruises bloomed like flowers on my fair skin.

  Compromise was always my strong suit. Rather than risking my knees or neck to wear heels while going for the bus, I changed into a comfy pair of sneakers for the trip. I would switch back to the stylish torture devices when I got to work.

  Taking the stairs two-by-two with an untasted Pop-Tart still in my mouth, I shoved through the glass doors to a beautiful fall day outside my rundown apartment building. It was the best I could afford and much preferable to the ‘suite’ my parents had set up in the basement while I attended college.

  I’d wanted to go away for college and experience everything on-campus living had to offer, but they wouldn’t hear of it. The term helicopter parenting could have been created with them in mind.

  They were determined to keep watch over their precious little girl, which was part of why I was still a virgin at nineteen. That, and the fact that I was a nerd.

  I loved facts, particularly math. I’d wanted to major in it, but Dad wouldn’t allow it, decreeing that math was a man’s discipline.

  It wasn’t sexism per se. It was more that he didn’t want me surrounded by hot, young guys. As if all math nerds looked like the two Brians—Cox, the British physicist and Greene, the American physicist—both of whom I had posters hanging on my bedroom wall throughout high school. While other girls had Bieber, I had the Brians.

  Following my dad’s wishes, I found something more ‘girly’ to major in; I studied journalism, focusing on business and finance. The degree just said B. Journo, so he was none the wiser. He was just happy and proud that his little princess had graduated with honors.

  One drawback to being an only child, let alone the only daughter, was that my parents refused to let me drive. Now that I was free, I would learn and get my license, but, for now, I took the bus to get where I had to go.

  Over the years, I’d learned to love public transport. Mom and Dad didn’t mind paying for that because they considered buses far safer than cars, and it could be a math kid’s dream trying to figure out the exact schedules, which I did.

  I often knew them better than the drivers themselves. At least, that was how it used to be before I moved to Brooklyn.

  My parents hadn’t been happy when I said I was moving, but they couldn’t stop me since I was an adult who no longer needed their help with college tuition. While they didn’t give me their blessing, they didn’t stand in my way, either. My grandmother had unfortunately passed away, leaving me enough money to help cover rent and living expenses for quite some time.

  Crap. Now I missed the bus. Making my way to the vacated bench, I tried to calm my mind. It couldn’t be that long before another one came along.

  Time was a funny thing. It seemed to fly when you were enjoying yourself and ground to a near halt when under stress. I only had to wait twenty minutes according to my watch, but it felt a long longer than that.

  It was my first day, and I’d wanted to get in super early. I had only one chance to make an initial impression. I knew from hard experience that that first impression could last forever.

  Once I finally got on and then off the bus, I was in such a hurry to get to the office that I forgot to change my shoes before entering the building. Opting for an empty elevator instead of the stairs, which would have been faster, I swapped over.

  When the elevator doors opened, I looked put-together and professional as I strode up to the reception counter, hoping I appeared a lot more stable than I felt.

  “Shit,” the woman behind the reception desk muttered.

  “What?” I inquired, despite myself.

  Without a word, she came steaming toward me. Taking me by the hand, she led me to a small office beside the copy room.

  “I’m Charli,” I tried to say, although it came out in a squeak.

  “I know,” she said, glancing all around. “Sorry about that, I just didn’t want him to see you when he arrives.”

  “Who?” I asked innocently.

  “Mr. McInnes.”

  “Oh.” My forehead furrowed at the mention of the CEO’s infamous name. “Why don’t you want him to see me?”

  “He’s wonderful at what he does and not vindictive in any way. He can just be a bit intense when he isn’t happy. And at the moment, he’s super pissed. He cycles to the office every day and was cut off more than a few times this morning. People are in a panic over the pandemic and are treating everyone as the enemy.”

  Great. Exactly what I needed, a pissed-off boss.

  I had heard of bosses being total assholes, shouting at their assistants, and even throwing things. I was mentally prepared for that, but what she was saying sounded almost sinister.

  “So, you know who I am?”

  “I do.” She nodded, seeming to relax a little. “I reviewed your application and had you fully vetted. We had about a million girls wanting the job. Vetting them all fell to lucky old me. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I love my work. There are just some particular pitfalls. Like with anything, I guess.”

  “I don’t think I caught your name.”

  “I didn’t give it. I’m Elsa,” she said, offering a hand, “and if you even think of singing ‘Let It Go,’ I’ll slug you.”

  “Never even occurred to me,” I told her.

  But I wouldn’t confess that I had the urge to ask if she wanted to build a snowman.

  “Good. You’re going to need friends around here. The publishing world can be a shark eat shark world.”

  What did she mean by that?

  Was she saying she was my friend or could be?

  Or was it just a more general statement?

  That I would require allies if I was going to survive?

  I sat in the little office as requested, waiting for my boss to summon me, and wondering what the future might hold. Though nothing that flitted through my naive mind even approached what would shortly come to pass.

  Chapter 2 - Max

  The alarm sprang to life, unleashing the metal songs I had set up to blare at th
e correct time the night before. Darkest Black Metal from deepest Norway blasted from the speakers like demonic voices through a medium.

  Lifting my head from my many-feathered pillows, I silenced the device and let out a pensive sigh. There was nothing wrong with the day in particular. It was life in general.

  My thoughts turned as dark as the music. If the government didn’t get the virus under control and find a workable vaccine, the economy, and society as we knew it, would fall apart.

  The music continued to reverberate around the room, and my thoughts continued to whirl. After a few moments, I shook my head. There was too much important work ahead of me. I didn’t have time to get caught in an existential stupor.

  Stiff-legged and stiff-cocked, I made my way to the bathroom, shedding my boxer shorts on the way. Basking in the freedom of my morning wood standing at full attention, I started my morning routine—showering and jerking off.

  After drying, I sauntered back into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of shorts. The door to the closet that held all my toys caught my attention. It’d been way too long since I’d had someone to play with.

  No one came close to catching my attention these days. None of the women I’d met or dated recently were true subs. They thought they were, but to them, following my orders only went as far as the bedroom. That and they saw the lifestyle as a fun role-playing game for one-night-only.

  I ached for someone who would follow my orders 24/7. Someone I could mold and train for life. But I doubted a woman like that existed.

  In all areas of my life, I demanded organization and control—there was a place for everything, and everything had its place. The clothes in my wardrobe were labeled and organized by season and color.

  Taking down a suit, an Italian, charcoal gray three-piece, I dressed, going slowly to make sure I looked immaculate. I’d learned early on that in my industry, appearances were vital.

  I wasn’t born into money. I’d worked for every cent I earned. Growing up, we weren’t rich, but we didn’t struggle either.