She flashes a smile, her hand dipping to my ribcage. She loves my damn abs, doesn’t she? Feeling her touch, all the time I’ve spent in the gym pays off; knowing how she melts in my arms. The lights are dim and I can barely make out her face, her cheeks, all of her loveliness. She’s an angel sent just for me. As I try to comprehend why Brett Blue was put into my life, I don't fucking know. It makes no sense. To be honest, if we're talking karma here, I think I've always been kind of a dick. So maybe in some past life I did something else to deserve this.
"Close your eyes," she whispers.
I do, and I hear her fumbling with her phone.
She puts on a song, and I’m so impressed by her attention to detail because it's the same song I wrote to her in my twisted fantasy this morning.
“Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols plays, and I hear her walk back toward me on the couch.
I sink into the cushions, enjoying the smell of her.
“Okay Sebastian," she says. “Open your eyes.
My jaw drops. “Fuck you’re sexy,” I blurt out, but words don’t do her justice.
Her pants are off, neon yellow bottoms hugging her hips, complemented by a lace bra-top of the same color. It’s not the easiest song to dance to, but she pulls it off, tossing her hair around and swaying to the song in such a way that turns my cock right into a steel rod.
“So I have to ask.” She smiles. “What's this thing with this color? Neon yellow? Seems weird.”
I shrug. “No reason. I just like it. It goes well with tequila.”
"You are indeed a simple man. That's it. There’s no weird story behind this.”
“Why can't a man just like a color?” I smirk. “It pleases me. Although trust me, the color is not the sexiest thing about this scene right now.”
“Oh, what is?” she asks, taking another sip of her drink.
“That would be you.”
“Oh.”
She dances as the song winds down, and she picks up her phone.
"Take off your shirt,” she says. “You need some music to do it?”
"I can take off more than just my shirt,” I say. I stand up and take off my shoes, my socks, my slacks, letting her watch me. Before I sit back down I offer a confession.
"I thought about you this weekend,” I say. I reach for my drink on the coffee table, take a strong sip, then go back to the bar to refill. “Like before I even saw you on Saturday.”
I was thinking about you too," she offers, but doesn’t elaborate. “I was thinking about what happened on Friday to be honest.”
"It was hot." I say. “I’ve never done anything like that. Do you need a refill?"
"I'll take a little more."
I give her a quick top off, and squeeze a little lime in her glass.
"I couldn't believe the look on that soccer mom's face when you told her you went out to lunch. You’re a dick.”
"I like to have a little fun. What can I say?”
“I don't see anything wrong with that." I take another step toward her. I grip her head, pull her into me and plant another kiss on her lips.
"That whole thing was just so ridiculous," she said. “You’re so ballsy, but I got a strange lesson out of that."
“You got a lesson from me going down on you?" I say, curious.
“It’s totally silly and I was probably reading more into it more than I should have, but yes I did."
"And what was the lesson that you got out of it?"
"I don’t want to talk about lessons right now I just want…”
I let my hand drift down to her ass and grab it.
“This,” she whispers, gripping my hand and pressing me further into her.
She moans, backing up.
“You really want to. You want to have sex with me. Right now."
"I do, I, God I really do,” she purrs, and I can see the truth in her eyes.
Our foreheads touch and she runs her hand from my chest down to my abs.
"I'm a little bit scared if I'm being honest," she says.
“God. I want you so much. I've wanted you for a long time. Longer than the last three weeks," I say.
"Yeah," she admits, "I've wanted you since I knew you as the owner of the pizzeria back in the day.”
My heart hammers. “You, wow, I didn't think you were old enough to think about those things, but I can see that..."
"Hey, don't act like you’re so much older than me. You're only seven years older."
"Seven or six, whatever. How old are you?
"I'm twenty-three."
"Oh," I say. "I'm twenty-nine. So six years older."
"You act like I'm a little girl. I’m twenty-three."
I sigh. “I don't mean it like that. You’re amazing but fuck it--I want this."
"And I want to give it to you," she says.
"I fucking know you do but,” my tone is joking, but cocky. “Do you think you can handle this?" I grip her hand and bring it down to my cock.
I inhale her air, kiss down to her ear, and whisper, "Don't worry, you'll always make room for me. I know you can."
"I'm so wet right now," she whispers back. I let my hand drift between her legs.
"Fuck baby, you’re soaked. You’re going to soak right through these yellow panties, aren't you?"
"I already have,” she purrs. “So why don't you let me get another song going and I'll make this happen. This is our first time and I want it to be amazing."
She pushes me back onto the couch. Well she pushes me and I voluntarily sit on the couch and I watch her, fascinated. She grabs her phone from her pocket and puts on a song. It's a slow acoustic.
"What is this?" I ask.
"It’s one of my favorites, “Meant to Be."
I love the feeling, the moment, everything just washes over me about what we're doing.
It just feels so damn wrong that my employee can make me feel this way.
But we’ve shattered the employee-employer barrier, and she’s rapidly on her way to getting many more benefits than just her 401k.
It’s a soft acoustic song but a sweet song, and it will never have the same meaning for me again. Brett smiles and does a little dance, swaying her hips to the beat of the song but keeping her eyes on me. God, she’s sexy. She’s temptation. She runs her hands through her hair, squeezes her tits together, and loses herself in the dance. Spinning around, she shakes her ass, moving closer to me. I’m no Neanderthal, but all of the available blood in my body has now rushed to my cock, and I’m sure feeling like one. Turning back to face me, Brett bends over to give me a close-up of her tits before she undoes her bra.
Sitting on my lap, she wraps the lace of her bra around my neck.
“Don’t move,” she whispers, devilishly. I want so badly to reach out and just take her, but I also want to see where she’s going with this. With her soft lips, she runs soft kisses down the side of my neck.
“Holy shit,” I groan as she grinds against me.
“You like the striptease?” she asks.
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
Still, even when she's doing a sexy dance for me, somehow the girl manages to convey that everlasting innocence of hers. It’s hard to have a coherent thought about a girl this smart, this sexy. She’s like my Lois Lane--an unsuspecting, bookish girl by day, and a sexy stripper by night.
My own personal sexy stripper.
"Brett..." I say, my voice husky.
She opens her eyes, stares at me for a moment, and stands up. Turning around, she bends over to get her cocktail, teasing the fuck out of me.
“Yes, Boss?”
I take a sip of my tequila. “You make no fucking sense to me."
"I make no sense? What do you mean?"
I lean back in my chair, and though I’ve got the tequila in my hand, it’s her I’m drinking in. Her blonde hair falls to her shoulders, framing her beautiful red lips and smile. I have to remind myself this is real life.
“Your existence perplexes me. I
t's amazing."
"You’re as weird as I am.” She giggles. “A total weirdo. I think it’s one of the reasons I’m so comfortable around you.”
"Are you weird?" I ask. She takes a few steps toward me.
“Oh, I don't know. I'm just exchanging sex letters with my boss that are loosely part of a romance novel I’m writing, and now I'm about to sleep with him. So sure, I’m a little weird."
"Are you really? You’re about to sleep with your boss?" I tip my chin back.
"Yes,” she says, her voice a whisper, and it’s the sweetest ‘yes’ I’ve ever heard.
"Hey." I reach my hand up and it touches her chin. She's gotten so close to me. The striptease already has me hard as hell but I need to ask her this before I go way over the edge here.
"From here, Brett, there's no going back and I need to know that you’re okay with this. I'm asking you person to person. Is this what you want?" I see it in her eyes. I know the answer before it comes out of her lips but it sounds so sweet when she says it.
"I want you so bad. Sebastian, I’ve wanted you for...just fuck me already, will you? You’ve asked me enough. Just take me. I’m yours, and this isn’t me acting out some silly fantasy. This is what I want. You." Her tone is irritated. Impatient. She wants this as badly as I do.
“Fuck, that’s hot to hear you say that. Because you’re what I want, too. So much.”
I grip her hips and guide her onto me so that she's straddling my waist on the couch. My hard dick pokes almost through my briefs into her panties. We make out furiously and this time it's different. We grind against each other. This time it's going to end in a way that will satisfy us both. I mean not that going down on her the other day wasn't totally satisfying. But this time we can both feel that it's on.
It’s so fucking on.
"Wait." She moans. "Put your hands behind your back." she says.
Fuck! I forgot I wrote about that this morning; even though I wrote about her teasing me, now all I want is to be inside of her right now but she delays my gratification. She pulls off my briefs and then keeps dancing with the music. Throwing her hair around, she bounces her hips from side to side. She even twerks a little bit at me and I’m about to lose it.
“You’re so fucking hot right now. You have no idea." She turns around, bends down, and comes oh so close to kissing my cock but she doesn’t. She just blows on it. “God damn you’re a fucking tease,” I say. She stands up and spins around, and her ass facing me, she pulls down her panties and dropping them around her ankles.
"I'll show you a fucking tease,” she says. She turns around and I don't care where she told me to put my hands. I slip them around and grab her tits as I make out furiously with her.
"Brett, I need to be inside you right fucking now.”
“Okay," she finally says. She straddles me on the couch and eases onto me, taking my tip in first. She's wet but she's tight and I’ve still got to work to get inside her. She bounces up and down for a time, for a few moments just on the first inch or so on my cock until she is able to get the whole thing inside. When she does she lets out the hottest moan I've ever heard in my life.
"Mmm, oh my God. Sebastian."
"Fuck me, Brett." I say. I grab the back of her neck. Spread kisses all over her breasts.
"Okay," she says “Fuck you? I can do that now."
She begins to bounce very slowly up and down riding the length of my cock. She's so tight and slick, she feels amazing but it's more than that. It's that it's her and that's when I know she's the one for me. There’s something about her scent and still while she grinds her hips against me I feel like I’m fucking an innocent girl, that she's my innocent girl. I love that she shows this side just to me.
The very first time you’re fucking someone is in a way a strange time to realize that you’re probably in love with someone but for me if I’m being honest, that's how it goes down. I want to just tell her right there, but the thought is fleeting. A few moments later all I can think about are Brett’s eyes as I stare into them. She closes them and I grip her hair, grip her head and point it at me.
"Brett, open your eyes,” I growl.
“Sebastian," she moans, and lets her eyes drift open.
She lets out another moan and tonight I hear the soft drizzle of a Blackwell rain shower drifting against the window. Very different from the thunderstorm the other night. Tonight we're the thunderstorm and for the next, oh I don't know--one, two, three, four, five, ten, twenty minutes--we fuck. We fuck like animals. We fuck like thirsty desert goers, who haven't been exposed to food or drink for many days, weeks--hell maybe even years--because that's how long it's been since I felt this way about someone.
She straddles me as I sit on the couch, I love watching her face bobbing in pleasure.
“Do you like that, Brett?” I whisper, pulling her into me. “Do you like feeling your boss’s cock deep inside you?”
Breathing hard, she nods.
“Say it. I want you to tell me what you like.”
“I like feeling your cock deep inside me,” she mouths.
“Good girl. And I love the way you grip me with your pussy.” I grip her ass with my hand, guiding her hips up and down on my cock.
After who knows how long, we get up. She sits back on the couch, panting, her legs wide open.
I dive between her legs, flicking her clit with my tongue. I want her taste, and I want to hear her moans.
God damn, do I want to hear her soft moans.
“Oh God,” she breathes, digging her nails into the cushions behind her.
I pull up for a moment. “I like it when you say my name.” I smirk.
“I didn’t say your name though. I said, ‘oh God.’”
“That’s right.” I smirk.
“You cocky bastard,” she mewls.
I turn her body around and we go at it doggy style.
We're a sweaty mess of arms and limbs and parts and pleasure.
The slap slap slap of my hips against her ass, that sweaty skin on skin sound, reverberates through the room.
“Oh God, you’re going so deep," she whimpers, her voice music to my ears. “I’m going to come again."
She comes, her pussy clenching, tightening around me and that's fucking it. As if by some miracle I realize I haven't put a condom on. How the fuck did I forget that?! So in the moment I didn't even think to put one on.
"Oh shit, I'm going to come," I say.
“I’m on the pill," she says through hazy eyes and I can't believe we're having this conversation right now, but a few seconds later I come rope after rope inside her. Feels so damn good. When I'm done. our bodies collapse against each other and I stay throbbing inside her. She grips me hard around my back like she doesn't want me to leave.
"You’re really gripping me hard," I say.
“I like this feeling." Her sweaty body curves into me, and she grips the back of my neck.
“Me too," I admit. “But I should probably pull out now."
"You’re right." she says, and I do. When she's done or when I'm done and I go grab that same work-out towel that I used the other day we clean up. We don't say much, our bodies having said more than we ever could in words.
We just sit there and sip our tequila and let the rain nail the outside windowpanes with its soft drizzles. I let her naked body collapse into mine and we fall asleep just like that.
17
Brett
I open my eyes, and a rush of adrenaline pounds through me.
I’m naked on Sebastian’s office couch.
And I’m alone.
My heart wrenches, and I move to put on my clothes. A minute later though, before I can even locate them, the smell of fresh coffee fills the air. The door opens and Sebastian bounds in with a gigantic smirk on his face.
"Don't put your clothes on just yet," he says as he walks through the door frame. “Let’s have coffee first. It's not even 5:30 a.m.”
"Well first of all, I thought you'd left me an
d second of all, you have your clothes on. So it’s not equal,” I say, nodding toward him.
He's got athletic shorts, a T-Shirt, and gym shoes on. He hands me a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee.
“My clothing situation can quickly be rectified.”
I laugh and muster a smile.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you need anything else, Princess?” He winks.
Sebastian sets down his coffee and breakfast sandwich, slips off his shoes, and takes off his shirt.
“That will be ok for right now. But it's early,” I say as I sit down on the couch. He joins me.
“But you're not afraid that someone's going to come in and see us here or see what we're doing now?" I ask as take the first sip of coffee.
"Nah," he says. "No one would dare come into the boss's office early in the morning and spy on me. Oh, wait, except for one person." He shoots a knowing glance my way.
I snigger.
"It's true that I came in and saw you, but I needed to know what was going on in here. I was hearing strange noises. I thought you might be hooking up with someone.”
He laughs. We lean back in the chair enjoying our coffee and breakfast as we wake up together.
“Because hooking up in this office would be totally inappropriate.”
“Well...it’s okay when it’s you and I. Hey, are we going to keep doing this?” I ask.
“Doing what?” He shoots the question back to me. “Do you mean just hooking up? I don't see why not.”
“No, I mean every morning for the last two mornings we wrote out a fantasy and then we’ve done it, or we've acted out one of our fantasies. How long can we keep this up?”
Sebastian shrugs.
“I mean I have a very active and long imagination, so I can go one year, two years…
“Stop,” I say, pushing him gently in the shoulder. I take a bit out of the sausage and egg breakfast sandwich.
“Why?” he asks, shooting me a somewhat suspicious glance. “Are you saying you want to stop?”
I swallow down the food. Not so shockingly, I’m famished from all of our activity last night. “No, not at all. I was just thinking about it that's all”.
“Thinking about it, so you have or have not thought about today's fantasy?” I smile a little sheepishly and look down at Sebastian’s feet.
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