“Sebastian,” I whisper as he works kisses down my neck. “I thought this would only be a fantasy. I never thought this would actually happen.”
He runs the thumb and forefinger of his giant hand over my jaw, gripping me lightly.
“Well we’re just getting started, honey.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
His hand runs up my ass and finds its way under my shirt. He kisses his way down the side of my neck, then runs his tongue back up to my ear and whispers, “I’m going to make you mine. My little plaything. You want to write those little fantasies on company time? I’m going to give you something to write about.”
“Oh God,” I mutter, and run my hand down the outside of his vest, so aware of how hard his stomach is underneath his clothing. I move to untuck his shirt.
“Nah ah ah,” he mouths, lightly but firmly gripping my wrist. “Hands off the merchandise.” He smirks.
“You’re truly an asshole, aren’t you,” I murmur.
“I am whatever you say I am. And I’m going to make you work for what you want. You’ve got a dirty mind, don’t you, Miss Blue?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Say it, then. Tell me how dirty it really is.”
“My mind is very dirty. So dirty.”
“What do you think the rest of the employees at Blackwell Industries would think if they knew how fucking filthy the mind of the most innocent looking girl on the entire floor was?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “They’d probably be surprised. Are you surprised?”
His cheek brushes against mine as he growls in a low voice. “Are you asking if I’m surprised that the homegrown good girl tomboy of Blackwell has a filthy fucking mind? The answer is fuck yes. And after I’m done with you, it’s going to be a whole lot filthier. You’ll never be the same again.”
My gaze drifts downward to his chest and forearms. Everything about the man is strength.
“Wha-what are you going to do with me?” I ask.
“All those fantasies you’re writing? I’m going to turn them into reality. Every single one. So you just keep writing at your desk during work hours. And every day, I’m going to call you into my office. Or order you somewhere else in the building. I’m going to get creative. And I’m going to make all of the fantasies you write come true, Miss Blue. Every single fucking one. I’m going to make them come true, and then some. Now turn around.”
When Sebastian came by my house weeks ago, I had no problem telling him off.
But right now, as his eyes sear into mine, his head slightly cocked, I’m on autopilot. I’m scared to think just how far I would go to please this man.
I do as I’m told. I turn around, forced to look at the dark, stormy weather outside. The rain pounds on the glass, and I can make out a partial reflection of Sebastian’s menacing figure.
My heart pounds.
“Put your hands on the glass, sales girl,” he snarls, and I palm the glass immediately. The flat surface is squeaky clean and cold on my hands.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask. “I want to know.”
He stands to the side of me and runs his hand through my hair. “I’m taking inventory of you. You’re quite remarkable, Brett, have you ever realized that?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “Suddenly you’re so honest. I like it when you’re honest. Well, since you haven’t apparently realized it, I’m going to fill you in.”
I let my head hang down, feeling suddenly incredibly vulnerable, and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
“The first thing about you, Brett, is your smile. Every time I see it, it literally makes my day better.”
I feel a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Shall I continue?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you want me to continue. Because I’m going to anyways. Your face and your hair are so gorgeous that it makes me suspicious when I talk to you, Brett. This blonde color, is it natural?” He fists my hair, and pulls it back.
“Yes,” I mouth.
“Wow,” he says. “Amazing.”
“What’s amazing? Why are you suspicious?”
“Brett, I’m amazed that a girl would have this much beauty and brains in one. Usually it’s one or the other.”
My heart skips a beat. “Oh,” I say, and I don’t expand on that, because I’m too shy to admit what I’m thinking to Sebastian.
But that’s that best fucking compliment a man’s ever given me.
“It’s just...fuck, Brett. And the rest.”
He runs a careful hand slowly down my spine, cups my ass, and then lands it between my thighs. Warmth rushes between my legs. I ache for him to reach just a bit higher on my body.
“It makes no sense, Brett. You make no sense. But…” he chuckles, and it’s a natural laugh as if something catches him by surprise.
“What?” I ask, opening my eyes and turning my head toward him. “Why did you laugh?”
He rocks back on his heel, drink in one hand as he fixates on me. My mind goes to the worst place, and I wonder if this is all a big joke he’s playing on me. Anger washes over my whole body, catching me by surprise, and I take my hands off the glass.
“Don’t you fucking move,” he says, and I freeze, but cross my arms and peer at him.
“I want to know why you laughed,” I say again. “What are you hiding? Is this some kind of practical joke?”
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he says. “I was laughing at how ridiculous my mind is. You ever have a voice inside you, something subconscious, that just forms a thought around something before you have time to filter it?”
“All the time,” I admit.
“Yeah, well that happens to me a lot. And it just happened to you. Staring at you, running my hand over you, somewhere inside me I had the thought, ‘you know, if a girl as beautiful as Brett Blue exists, there has to be a fucking God.’”
He smirks, takes another drink, and makes an ‘ah’ noise when he’s done. My whole body heats up, and that’s when I feel the space between us shrink, and my walls fall down. Somehow this man sees something in me no one else has ever grasped.
“Fuck, Sebastian. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
In a moment he closes the physical space between us. “No one’s ever told you how gorgeous and amazing you are? Don’t lie now, Miss Blue.”
I smile and look down. “They haven’t put it like that.”
“Well it’s fucking true,” he says before pulling me in for another kiss. “Now turn the fuck around so I can make you come.”
I melt. It’s his tone of voice, it’s the things he says about me, it’s his damn sexy body. It’s the storm outside that makes me feel like we’re in our own little bubble, away from the outside world.
I turn and he puts his hands on my hips from behind. I wonder what he’ll do. “Take off those sexy white pants,” he orders. “I want to watch you wiggle out of them.”
I do as he says, first slipping off my shoes and then taking my pants off.
“Holy fuck. A thong.”
I shrug and smile. “It’s hard to find underwear to wear underneath white pants. Do you like it?”
“Like it? Brett, it’s so damn hot.”
“Really?” My skin tingles hearing Sebastian call me hot.
“Yeah. And you know what else is hot right now?”
“What’s that?”
“You,” he growls, and drops his hands to the flesh of my hips. He kisses my neck from behind, and presses his hips into my ass.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, able to feel the girth of his cock pressing into my ass through his pants. I reach clumsily behind me, trying to pet his hard length between his legs, but he grabs my hand.
“Nah-ah-ah,” he whispers throatily. “Not yet. I have other plans in store for right now. Put your own hand between your legs.”
He pulls my panties down to my knees, and I feel so a
wkward. Like this is all so unplanned and accidental.
I do as I’m told, because his voice has a hypnotic power over me. I lightly rub my middle finger over my already soaking clit.
“That’s right,” he whispers. “I want to make you come so hard, Brett. I do. God damn, you’ve no idea how much I’d love to just slide right in, feel this ass against my hips as I thrust deep inside you again and again. But you’re not ready for that.”
“I’m not?” I say, and the phrase comes out much more a question then I intended.
“You’re not,” he repeats firmly. “Not at all. But you’re doing a good job yourself right now. I like how I can see your whole reflection in the window. God damn you’re sexy, Brett. You know what, fuck it.”
I moan loudly, the pleasure setting in.
I hear him unzip his pants and flop out his cock.
I glance down at it for just a moment and my jaw drops. “Massive,” I manage to croak.
“Now hook two fingers inside yourself,” he orders. “I want to see how you do it.”
“Are you going to stroke yourself while you watch me?” I say as I do as he says, letting my fingers enter deeper inside me.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m not going to fuck you yet, Brett. Even though I want to. Oh God, do I want to.”
He steps to the side of me so I’m plainly in his view. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, my boss in a full suit with just his huge cock poking out as he stares at me with narrow eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, but leans forward with his right hand, places it on top of mine on my pussy, collecting some of my juices. He brings the hand to his mouth, licks it, kisses me, and puts his two fingers in my mouth. I greedily suck, tasting myself, wanting, needing to feel him in any way he’ll let me.
As I push deeper inside myself, I use my other arm against the window to still my balance. “Fuck Brett. So hot. So goddamn gorgeous in every way. I bet you’d love to feel this hard cock inside you, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s so perfect,” I moan. “Your cock, I mean.”
“I love when your voice is hoarse like that,” he growls. “And yes. The cock gods have blessed me.”
I want to laugh, but looking at him in the reflection, lightning flashing illuminating his handsome face, glancing back to his engorged cock --it’s the hottest damn thing I’ve seen in my life.
I can’t believe I’m about to come.
He slides back so he stands behind me, so close I can feel the warmth of his flesh almost touching my ass.
“That’s right, Brett. Good girl,” he says as he is vigorously pumping his shaft, watching me pleasure myself.
My body shakes, my knees quiver, and pleasure overtakes my entire body, bolts of warmth shooting to my limbs, filling my chest, and especially settling between my legs as I imagine him penetrating me.
“Oh fuck, it’s hot when you moan like that. Oh fuck, your ass is perfect. I’m so close, Brett. I haven’t even touched you and you’ve got me so close.”
“Come wherever you want,” I blurt out.
He lets out a throaty noise halfway between a grunt and a shout. Placing the palm of his free hand firmly on the small of my back, he yanks up my shirt, exposing more flesh. Using the same hand, he tangles his left hand into my hair and pulls, forcing me to arch my back and press my ass against him.
Moments later I feel his cock touch my skin ever so slightly, and his warm cum spurts across my ass and lower back in thick rivulets, trickling down.
We both pant for a moment after, until he finally breaks the ice.
“Don’t move,” he says.
In the reflection of the glass, I see him move swiftly toward his desk and grab something.
“Workout towel,” he explains as he helps wipe my back and ass clean. He wipes himself too.
“Aww, you’re not even going to leave me any?” I joke. “I hear it’s good for the skin. Got vitamin E or something.”
He laughs, a strong belly laugh, different than I’ve ever heard him.
“I needed that.”
“The orgasm or the laugh?” I ask, turning around.
He shrugs and pulls me in for a kiss, palming my ass cheek as he does. “Both.” He leans in and kisses a spot just below my ear. “And you know what I need right now, since we aren’t going anywhere?”
He nods outside, where the storm is still revving at full blast. Thunder rumbles through the muggy fall night.
“What do you need?” I ask, the possibilities seemingly endless.
“Another drink with you.”
13
Sebastian
“You take anything with your whisky?”
“You have ginger?”
I smirk at her. “You would be a ginger girl.”
I put some ice and whisky into both of our glasses, and some ginger ale into hers.
I hand Brett her drink, and we clink glasses as the rain hammers down outside.
“One of the worst storms I can remember in Blackwell,” she says as she stares outside into the pitch black. I gaze outside, and I’m happy to take my mind off the fact that I just broke my cardinal, number one rule on which I built my business:
Never hook up with an employee.
“It’s bad out there,” I agree, letting my mind focus on the storm.
“I wonder if there’s a tornado watch.” Brett’s eyes glisten in the dimmed light.
“Do you think I’d let us be on one of the top floors of Blackwell’s tallest building if there was a tornado watch?”
I swagger toward my couch, because that’s just how I feel after hooking up with the hottest, most precious girl I’ve ever seen.
Who would have suspected the most innocent looking one is the one with the dirtiest mind of all.
I bade her to come sit next to me on the leather couch, patting the spot next to me. “Come. Sit.”
“I’ve already done the first, so I accept your proposal,” she says, somehow with a straight face.
I throw my head back in laughter.
She sits next to me, and I run my eyes up and down her again.
“I feel a little ridiculous in no pants and a blouse,” she says as she sits.
“Well you don’t look ridiculous. You look fucking sexy.”
“Really?”
She seems surprised, which shocks me.
“Hell yeah. Is the Pope Catholic? I’ll answer that one for you. Yes, and you’re sexy as fuck. Better get used to me saying that.”
She chuckles, and runs her hand up my arm. Her touch gets my blood rushing.
I don’t want this night to end. For most of the past year, life’s been a slog of deals and plans and business wins and losses. Sure, I’ve had a few ladies thrown into the mix at times, but none like Brett.
I’ve never even had a shot at a wholesome-but-hot, sweet-but-naughty soul like Miss Brett Blue.
“Do you believe in fate, Brett?”
She leans her body into mine, and I wrap my arm around her.
Her face nuzzles into my shoulder, and she brings her eyes up. “Wow. You don’t waste any time going deep, do you?”
I spin my glass of whisky and stroke her hair with my free arm. “I’m just curious about you. Us being reunited like this feels too big to be a coincidence. But I don’t particularly believe in fate.”
“So what do you believe?”
“I asked you first.”
She takes a deep breath. “Fate and I are kind of at odds right now. My father died this year, and I’m trying to come to terms with why He would take my father away. It was too early. He was barely fifty.”
She rubs her arm, and seems to tighten at the mention of her father. I hold her tighter, pulling her into me.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Brett.” I kiss her on the forehead.
“It’s okay.” She frowns. “I’m still processing it, though. I want to do right by him. It’s why I didn’t sell you the property.”
“Because it reminds you of him?”
/>
“He loved that damn house so much. His Dad--my grandfather--built it himself. I just can’t part with it. Maybe someday. But not yet.”
She smiles a little, and rests her chin on my shoulder, sitting up. “My father always told me to go after my dream. He worked hard so I could go to college, but I never got to finish.”
She exhales deeply, blowing the air out of her lips like she’s blowing out stress. Her eyes glassy, she looks off into the distance. For a moment, she closes her eyes and I swear I can feel her holding back tears.
“That’s tough. Was going to college your dream?”
“It was for a while. But it was also my dream not to be in debt. So part of me gave up a little bit on that dream. And now--”
“You’re just trying to live out your dream through writing a romance novel,” I say, giving her the best shit-eating grin I can muster, trying to cheer her up a little.
“Stop it. You mean working for you, who for some reason thought I would be a good employee even though I have zero qualifications.”
My arms still wrapped around her, I draw her into me on the couch. I love the feel of her flesh on mine. “You stop it. You have plenty of qualifications. You haven’t even been on the job for a month and you’re crushing it. Hell.” I chuckle. “You’re writing a damn romance novel on company time, and you’re still more efficient than half my staff. And I’ve read it, Brett. It’s fucking good.”
She arches an eyebrow my way, her face so close I can feel her breath. “You’re just saying that.”
I shrug. “I’ll admit I’ve never read a romance novel before. But I think it’s fucking gold. It’s got potential.”
“I just wonder how it’ll turn out in the end.” She breathes, her mouth inches from mine.
I can’t resist giving her a long, slow kiss. I nibble on her lower lip as I let go.
“You’re the author. Don’t you get to decide how it ends?”
The thunder booms loudly right outside, and she flinches, but I steady her.
“I have to let the characters tell me what they want to do.” She smiles, and then sits back on the couch, grabbing her drink. “So, this fantasy thing we’re doing. We’re going to play one for me, and then one for you? Like I’ll be Lacy, and you’ll be Zane.”
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