“Don’t say that. Don’t say those things when you know they’re not true.”
It’s hard to resist grabbing her shoulders. I want to shake her. I want to look in her eyes, pull her to me. Squeeze her. Tell her, ‘How can you be so beautiful and not know it?’ But I don’t.
I know that I have to give her her own time. Her space. She has to fill and occupy the space and know that it belongs to her.
I have to allow her to become fully what she truly is. Her true self.
Until she can do that, I can’t tell her what she means to me, without her misunderstanding. She has to know.
First, I can give her a place to rest her trust. To build on. I look hard into her eye. “This is the most important thing you will ever hear, Laurel. Understand this and believe it.” She nods and her chin tilts up. “I will never tell you a lie, Laurel.”
“I understand. Sir.” My heart jumps.
“You must feel how beautiful your body is, when I look at you. You must understand, you must know, what your curves, what your sighing breath, what your softness means, does, is, to me.
“I want you, Laurel, I need you. You are mine. You will be all mine. I will claim you, take you. Then you will completely be mine, for ever.”
She nods. I’m excited to see a little shake run up her spine.
“Tell me how you feel now.”
“I feel like,” her voice is tight, shaking. I move around behind her. Give her ass a slap.
“Sir!” she yelps. “I feel like I’m going to come.”
“Good.” My blood rises. “I want to see you come. Do it for me. Now.”
“Now, Sir? Standing up, Sir?”
“Yes. Now.”
Uncertainly at first, her fingers slide down her body.
She slips her hand, uncertainly at first, inside her panties. Looking first for the top of her mound, then sliding between her legs. I watch, studying. Learning her rhythms. Her thrilling patterns. Her other hand squeezes through her bra. The bud of her nipple is hard already. She sighs and her eyes roll as she squeezes to push it forward.
Watching the shivers and trembles that flicker and charge through her takes me so close to bursting, I have to slow my breath to a meditative calm.
“Tell me,” I say, “specifically. Tell me exactly how you feel.”
“I feel like I’m about to implode, Sir.” Her body twists forward. “I’m tingling and trembling inside, Sir. And it’s getting more and more intense. Sir.”
“Taste. Taste your juices for me.”
“Yes,” she sighs as she presses her fingers deeper. Pulls them out, sighs as she licks them. Pops them in again. Pulls them out again and sucks on them.
“Tell me how they taste. Tell me what flavors you are.”
“Dark. Tangy. Hot.” Her eyes open wide and then drift half shut. “Dirty. Very, very dirty.”
“I want to see you come.”
A little convulsion, like the start of a giggle, rocks her body. “I don’t know if I can, sir. Not with you watching, sir.”
She puts her fingers back. Spreads her lips wider.
“Stay still,” I tell her. I move around to stand in front of her. “Stay still, just press.” I hold up my finger. Around backwards and forwards in small half-circle. “Just press, like this.
As she does, the clip thickening. Written. The juices run. Faster. I have to taste.
“Give me your fingers.”
Her voice cracks, “Yes. Yes, sir.” Her body twists as she pulls her fingers up, holds them up to my face. In front of my mouth. Just the smell is enough to drive me mad. I want her so very badly. I know that it’s going to take an effort of will for me to be able to taste her. To taste her and then not… go further.
I lean forward. Part my lips. Put out my tongue and take her fingers. Her small fingers, hot, tender. And the taste. Oh, the taste. I suck. Lick. Slow.
I groan.
I have to stand back. “You are beautiful. You taste wonderful. You have to be mine. Forever.”
I’m looking right in her eyes. Her face is turned up to me, as her body folds forward. Her eyes roll, as her eyelids drift and flutter down. Her thigh shakes and her stomach rolls. Her throat reddens and her cheeks color as her mouth opens into an ‘O’ so very ready. I hold her hair, reaching out just to grab it. Grasp. Feel the vibration. I want to reach for her breasts. Slide my hand down her stomach. Feel as it shakes, rolls and turns. Slip my fingers down. Down to join her. Down in the thrilling, roiling lava, in her gushing honey dripping. But I allow myself only her hair. Her eyes plead up into my face. She shakes some more.
“Now?” I ask her.
She nods as I hold her hair. Rapidly. Twisting. Shaking.
She reaches out. Gasping, panting. She falls to her knees. Then cries out, “Oh, oh!” Three more times she is wracked with rivers of convulsions.
Her face. She leans her head into my hand. Her eyes moist.
“Thank you,” she almost whispers, “Sir.”
I bend down to take a kiss from her. Greedily. Pushing my tongue into her mouth. Holding her body to mine. I don’t let my hands roam around her. Not now. But holding her to me, that could last me half a lifetime. Feeling her still vibrating flesh, pressed tight against me.
I know now. I know for certain.
“You really are the woman for me, Laurel. You are the love of my life. You are the woman I have waited for.”
“Sir,” exhausted, she looks up, pleading, “Sir, you don’t know my father.”
“Well, I did some research. Due dilligence, you might say.”
“I figured you might. But you don’t know him.”
“You think he won’t approve of me?”
She laughs. Long, full and loud. Like her energy has suddenly recharged.
“There’s no doubt about it, Nicolai. My father will not approve of you. Not any single part you.”
“Laurel, I can be very persuasive.”
“Yes, I understand, Nicolai. But that isn’t my problem.” She says, “Sir.” Straightening her face again.
“No? What is it then, Laurel? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it for you.”
She shakes her head. The teardrop appears in the corner of her eye. Making my heart ache like it’s hollow and swelling. Like it’s coming up into my mouth. “No, Sir. Nicolai. My problem is, if you have researched my father, then you’ll know this. I already have a rich, controlling, egotistical, arrogant asshole in my life. I don’t think I can stand another.”
“Ah, you are too good to me, Laurel.”
She looks up confused. “Sir, what do you mean?”
“Giving me another reason to spank you. I thank you. Now I will spank you.”
“Sir, I’m too exhausted. Too spent.”
“Perfect.”
I can’t wait a moment longer. I have to taste her. The scents of her have driven me wild for too long.
I lift her as I stand. Carry her to the couch. Her weight, her soft flesh is the most precious thing I ever carried.
She watches my eyes as I slip off her bra straps. She sighs, long and low as I kiss her neck and she holds my head. Pulls me to her. She whispers in my ear,
“What are you doing to me?”
I moved to kiss her, her mouth was waiting for me.… lock her breath with mine. Seal our lips and let my tongue plunge inside her immediately. Explore her with a life of its own. Eat hers as she offers it. Exchange our breath, moving our bodies, we are becoming a single tune. A melody played in flesh.
The fuzz of her pussy and the wet heat of her lips press against me as her hips rock up and down against my hard, aching cock. She holds my face in her hands as the weight of my body presses down into her. I hold and caress her breasts. Our bodies turn dance, bend and twist, anything to get closer. Nearer. More connected.
I have to stand to remove my clothes, but I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want to be parted from her. I slide down, and her eyes plead with me, not wanting me to leave. I kiss her breasts. Her ba
ck arcs as I take her nipples into my mouth. Roll them over my tongue. One by one. Feel the stretching buds as they thicken into little pebbles.
Her stomach flutters and rolls as I plant kisses all the way down her. Hungrily, greedily I kiss her hips between her pelvic bones. Adoring her softness. Teasing and biting. And her thighs spread wide, as her pussy rises toward me. The scent of her is too much. I can’t wait to pull her panties off. I rip them with my teeth. My hands hold her thighs. I have to pause. Stop and stare. Marvel at her peachy, fuzzy, beautiful cleft. I kiss and nibble at the insides of her thighs. And now along the tops of her thighs. Doing everything I can to tantalize and tease her.
Her pelvis flicks and twitches. Her fingers grasp the sides of my head. Plunging her fingers in my hair. Tugging. When I blow on her pussy, her plump, shining, wet pussy, her moan is the sweetest sound I ever heard. I nibble at her mound, pushing her flesh in slow circles.
I tilt my head, turn so my lips will be at the perfect angle to pinch and purse and pull on her little bud. With my lips, I will excavate it. Bring it from its soft cover. Lick her all around. Slide my tongue from the back of her lips to the front.
My mouth seizes her pussy. My tongue rakes and shoves along the length of her lips. I suck on her clit, press my lips into and around her hood. I tease her clit from above and below with my teeth.
But the taste of her excites me. It’s hard to hold back. I grasp her ass in both hands. Pull her tighter to me. Plunge my tongue as far as I can inside her.
She shouts and moans. Her hands claw at my head. I feel her clenching her thighs as she closes them on the sides of my ear. I won’t stop.
I flatten my tongue, suck tease along the length of her lips. Flatten her wings with the whole of my mouth.
I’m finding her rhythm. She reveals it to me. But she is frantic. I hold her by the waist. Slide my hands down over her ass. Pull her forward to land a few gentle slaps. She jerks, moaning at each one.
I’m learning fast what sets her off, how she responds, what drives her higher.
I feast on her juices. She tastes so fine.
I drag her closer. Hang her thighs over my shoulders.
I can’t believe this beautiful flower, this wonderful girl, this marvel is here for me. That she will be mine. She is going to be mine, for ever.
I raise her hips higher. Lifting them above her head, making her blood flow down. Making every sensation more intense for her. Every time I take her up to a plateau, she lets out a long, primal moan.
“Yes,” I shout, “Yes, my princess.”
Then each time, I keep up the rhythm, but take it slower, more firm. Trail her, just a little behind. And then I’m more forceful. Up until the point where she’s ready to go over the edge.
There, that’s where I wait. Keep up the pressure but let her find the moment.
As soon as it starts, then I let go and I’m a beast. Hard. Fast. Ravenous. Insatiable.
Sucking, slurping, drinking greedily from her lovely fountain.
After her ninth orgasm, she groans, hoarse. Panting, she sighs and moans. “Your clothes,” she gasps, “They’re ruined.”
Then her head tips back and I push my fingers into her as she goes over again.
She shouts. Hammers the sides of her fists on my shoulders. Clenches and shakes. When her breath returns, she says, “I think I’m ruined, too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at a man, not without thinking how inferior he is to you.”
I slap her ass, hard. “Don’t you fucking dare look at a man and think anything.”
She shakes her head, exhausted. “No, sir.”
“You belong to me. Me alone. You’re mine.”
She curls up, nuzzling in my lap.
“You’re hired again,” I tell her. But I think she may finally be asleep.
Chapter nine
Him
MY OFFICE DOES NOT get the morning sun. One of the other directors will have to take this suite. I noticed that all of the other directors have highly personalized suites of offices. Lavishly furnished. Decorated to match their personalities. Mine is quite functional. I’m trying to remember anything about its previous occupant. All I know is that he retired almost a year ago and there’s no sign of him being in any way operationally missed.
I call down to human resources and ask for the complete personnel files for all of the senior board.
I want Laurel to come and bend over my desk again, to operate my computer. Actually, just to be here. To have her bent over my desk, so I can lean my chin against her ass. Turn her over. Stretch her out across the desk. My hands roaming over her body. Take her chin in my hand. Hold her by the throat. Take a kiss. That would make the start of a fine morning’s work.
A call comes in from the Chief Financial Officer, Helena Martenssen.
“I need a word with you. Quite urgently, actually,” her voice purrs. She is polished and seductive. “I want to come by your office. Can we say later this morning? As soon as possible would be best.” She thinks she can talk to me like that.
“I’ll come to your office, Ms. Martenssen.”
“Oh. All right. When?”
“You’ll know when I get there.”
I decide to review her files and employment history with the firm first.
It’s about half an hour later when I make my way toward her office. Then I stop. Frozen in the corridor is Laurel. I move toward her. She raises her hands. Does she want to play games? I wonder. If that’s what she wants to do, it could make for a difficult time, for both of us. I could enjoy that.
I take a step toward her. Her eyes look hunted, nervous.
“I’m pleased to see you up here,” I start to say. She flinches, shies away.
“I’m…” She’s turning. “I can’t speak to you. Not now.” She hurries away.
I decide to deal with Helena Martenssen first, and then I will find Laurel. There can’t be any more confusion. No more uncertainty.
I’m thinking about how to manage and restructure the bank to suit my purposes better. It is the most profitable division of the corporation, but it’s also the most complicated. I don’t want to spend my life managing a bank.
From what I’ve seen of the personnel files, it would be hard to find somebody I could trust to delegate the management to. I may have to wind it up.
Helena Martenssen’s office suite is definitely, very distinctively personalized.
It is carpeted in cream and furnished with dark walnut. The main office area is sunken, like a stepped lounge. It sweeps down toward the huge windows. On low mahogany tables, she has drinks and refreshments set out. As I step in, Helena Martenssen is emerging from of one of the other rooms in the suite.
Tall and elegant, she wears a cream suit, perfectly cut for her. She has the figure of a model. And the poise to go with it. In her late twenties, she’s proved herself to be quite the financial genius, as well as having phenomenal management skills.
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