Next Door Boss

by Luke Steel

  Funny, in that moment, I think of Ray. The kitty who likes to be close, wants attention, but bites and attacks to get it. And I remember Demi’s words.

  You get the most out of it when you give up control.

  I have just enough leverage to pull back and look into Demi’s eyes. They’re narrowed and hot, her face tense, and by the strength in her grip, I know that in this and all things, she will not back down. Ever. Not unless I do. And suddenly I know exactly what I need to do.

  I kiss her again, but softly this time. Open mouth and breath, trailing my tongue along the seam of her lips, dipping inside only when she opens for me on her own. She nips at me in response and pulls up tighter, but then freezes as my mouth keeps going, slow and deliberate instead of the animal roughness that locked us in so hard in the beginning.

  I loosen my grip on her little by little, and I can feel her body go taut as she overcompensates, sensing it. But the gambit works. I feel the tension begin to ebb, her grip loosens as we both start to feel what’s happening between us. First the grip in her hands and arms. Then her thighs, which were squeezing my hips tight begin to loosen. And that’s where my hands go first, to the outside of her thighs, palming the tense athletic muscles in her long, long legs before I hitch her thighs even higher around me. Lifting her this way angles her hips so she has to drop back on the desk. She stops the fall by leaning back on her hands, but that leaves her open and arched to me, her tits up high, her legs further apart.

  There are many, many advantages to this. I hook her right thigh up and over the crook of my arm as my left strokes up her body, over her tits to her neck. Her eyes widen and then narrow when I palm her neck. Not hard, just the flat of my hand, cupping, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. She makes a little a mewling sound and then turns her face into my palm, nipping gently, then letting me pet and stroke her as her head falls back. And this is what I wanted, her back arched and open to me, her thighs giving way so my hips can push between. Soft and open like this, she’s letting me have my way.

  I can see her chest rising and falling, and her blouse has long been pulled loose. I make short work of the buttons and then the lacy cups of her bra peek out and I push her tits up so I can press my face to the flesh there. I fill both my hands with her tits then, pushing her dark red nipples up for my eyes and mouth. Demi groans as I flick my tongue out to lick the swell of each. One of her hands comes back up to my hair then, guiding instead of gripping this time, but still pressing my head to her. Urging more. She jerks when I suck on one, and then the other, leaving them out and exposed to the air.

  All the while, her thighs are still closed around my hips, and I feel a warm heat between them. I’m hard, straining against the front of my pants. Her skirt is high up on her legs now, and when I pull back to admire her nipples and pluck at them, further down her body I can see a peek of white panties.

  I’ve spent as much time plotting ways to torture Demi as I have fantasizing about her spread open for me just like this. Punishing her, fucking her every which way. Every time I think of her, I imagine us snapping at each other like animals when I push into her. But the reality is so much hotter, sexier than I imagined. Demi’s response to my kiss, my touch, is electric. She takes everything I throw at her, meeting me with a return kiss, her tongue sliding and playing with mine. Fast and hot when I push her, slow when I drag things out, her nails digging into my shoulders as I run my hands over her back, down her ribs. She surges under my hands everywhere I touch her.

  This is all kinds of trouble. She works for me. I’ve done everything I can think of to push her away. I’m an idiot for doing this.

  And an idiot for waiting so long.

  Her fingers clench in my hair when I slide my hands along the silky skin of her inner thighs. Demi’s still leaning back, looking down her body as my fingers tease the long tendon where her leg meets her body. The riot of curls falls over her face as she watches. I push my other hand into her hair so I can pull her head up and look directly into her face as my fingers first graze the thin fabric shielding her pussy from me. She bites her lip, body taut and her green eyes widen as I tease more.

  “Your nipples are hard, Demi. Red and pretty. So sensitive.” I tug on her hair so she arches her back for me, and her breasts are level with my mouth. I lick one, then the other, and pull back when she shivers. Then I pet her panties with the back of my fingers. “Is your pussy the same? Is this sensitive, too?” When she whimpers, I have my answer.

  She reaches for me then, cuddling in close, tries to kiss me. I pull back and keep teasing, watching. The whimper turns into a small sound of protest and then a groan when I stroke her over her panties again.

  “Show me, Demi. Pull your panties to the side and show me where to touch you next.”

  Demi turns her face away, and I almost wish it were lighter so I could see her blush. But I can also feel the fabric grow wet, the lips puffed with only a thin scrap of fabric between us. I lick her neck, the small whorl of her ear. I tug on her hair again.

  “You’re getting hotter, baby. Feel that? I know that little box is waiting for me. Show me.”

  Finally, Demi pushes up, one hand on the desk behind her propping her up and brings the other forward. When she hesitates, I take her hand in mine and press it to her pussy, still through the fabric. Her lips are open, her breath coming fast. Then she slips her fingers under the silk and pulls it to the side as instructed.

  Christ! My cock has been hard as rebar since the fight in the garage, but seeing her pussy open to me for the first time, I feel a tell-tale thrill shoot up from my balls to the head. She’s fucking perfect. The lips of her pussy are swollen and slightly open, the pink glistening. I can’t decide if I want to lick or fuck her first. Demi’s mouth forms a perfect little “o” when I reach out and slide the pad of my thumb up and down the seam of the lips, dipping in a little to the silky wet heat and using it to slide along the edge. Her eyes shut tight and she whimpers when I slide two fingers just inside and then push in hard.

  I feel her calf press into me from the back as she hooks her leg up higher on my side. She reaches for me then, her nails sinking into the back of my neck and I get hotter when she bites her bottom lip. Her pussy is tight and slick on my fingers. And I don’t think she realizes when she starts to work her pussy on my hand, lifting just slightly on the desk as her hips start a steady grind back and forth. She’s sexiest thing I’ve ever seen then, with her tits popped up and out, her legs spread, but taking from me rather than waiting for me to plunge into her. For weeks Demi has been eager to please, ready to jump the moment I demand it. In this moment, she’s greedy and hot, working my fingers deeper into her, using me for her pleasure. If she’s going to get this charged with just my fingers inside her, I’m more than willing to provide something more.

  I think she has the same idea, because her green eyes almost glow in the dark when she opens them and looks up at me. She’s still working herself on my hand, and I can feel her pussy clench and pulse as I stroke her. I move my thumb back up to her clit and her mouth falls open again. She licks them while I watch, and then reaches for my belt. Tugs at it. An eloquent little prompt for what she expects next.

  “You do it. Take what you want. Take it out.” I push into her with my fingers again, and she whimpers. But then she does what I tell her, her long fingers tugging the belt free, then practically rips my fly open. My cock is aching, I want inside her so bad.

  She doesn’t disappoint. No teasing or preliminary, Demi pushes a hand into my pants and grips my cock, her grip firm. It’s exactly what I need. She strokes under the head and her palm is slick with my pre-cum when she pumps up and down the shaft once, twice. I peek up at her and have to grin when I see the slightly shocked and then hungry look on her face. I know exactly what she wants when I feel her pussy get even wetter as she strokes me, fevered now. I know she likes the size by the way she takes the moment to stroke all the way from my balls to the very tip. And when she grips me again,
there’s no question about what has to happen next. For either of us.

  She lets go only long enough to pull on my pants, push them out of the way. And then I feel both her legs hook around me, practically yanking me into position. I’m loving this side of her—the impatient, demanding side. She lifts up without my even having to tell her to, and I use the hand that’s still wet with her juices to push my cock to her entrance. Demi brings both her hands up to my neck, crowding in close, and I realize she’s looking down her body so she can watch my cock go into her. I fucking love that, the way she’s pulling, opening. It’s a pleasure in itself to feel exactly what she wants, how hot she is for it, knowing exactly how to feed it.

  Pushing into her the first time is a tighter fit than I expected. Demi throws her head back for a moment and tightens on my neck. For me, feeling her pussy pulse and stretch around me wakes up something primal and hot. I don’t want to hurt her, but I love the feeling when she goes taut and still in my arms, taking me into her.

  “Grind down, baby. Work it in all the way.” I grit my teeth when Demi obeys, opening her thighs wide and rocking back and forth, deeper and deeper. She’s making hot little sounds as she does it, crying out hard and fast when I lose control and finally, finally slam into her.

  “Gabriel, it…it…” she’s whimpering. I pull back, but she stops me, presses her forehead to mine.

  “Does it hurt? I’ll stop.”

  “No,” she shakes her head hard, gripping me, and I feel her pulse. “Again. Do it again. I want—ah!” Another sharp, hot cry when I shove my cock deeper.

  Demi bites her lip and opens her eyes, and there’s no mistaking the look on her face. “Again.”

  I comply and pump into her two more times for good measure, deep inside. Demi goes off then, grinding her pussy down, fucking me back, stroke for stroke. At one point she grips the edge of the desk so she can keep her pussy close for me, and I take her ass in my hands to help. I can feel her muscles flexing and opening as she works on my cock, faster, faster. The whole time, I can’t get enough of how sexy she looks while she opens for me, her tits bouncing, her cheeks flushed and hot. She yanks my head down to her then, her mouth opening on mine, and when I feel her pussy clench and pulse, I know she’s close. She’s going to come for me.

  I pin her back at the end, holding her still so she can’t move, can’t do anything but take me as I pound deep and hard. She goes wild, surging up against me, crying out as the waves start to hit her. I come close behind. The fit is so tight I feel like she’s milking the come right out of me when we both explode together.

  6

  Demi

  Going through it all in my head the next day doesn’t make any more sense to me than it did the night before. First my boss finally gets what he wants and wears me down so much that I semi-quit in a fit of rage. Then we have dirty, mind-blowing, legs-shaking-for-the-rest-of-the-night sex on his desk.

  I didn’t quit. Not really. I told the guy off. And then I slept with him. Either of those things could push me in or out, really. So, with my resignation in flux, I’m more than a little nervous to show up at the office in the morning. I have no idea what the hell to expect now.

  Everything that happened after we came down last night is a bit of a blur, too. He held me upright for a little bit—I do remember that part. Even stroked my hair a few times, which just confused me. And then both of us seemed to have the same idea to keep our heads down and avoid each other’s eyes as we dressed. I left his office before it became more awkward, once again practically running out of the building.

  Ray was mewling disapprovingly from the moment I got home. It felt like I was being scolded for more than the missing kibble in his bowl. The rest of the night I shut off my phone, my computer, all the lights and then just collapsed into bed. I didn’t sleep terribly well, but when I did, I dreamt about him, I know that much. And woke up in a sweat, wanting more. Whatever he did to me, my body wanted another taste.

  And then it was morning. I didn’t know what the heck else to do but get ready for work. I left my apartment building early so I wouldn’t bump into him—not that I would as he has his own private entrance. But somehow, knowing we were in the same building kept me up most of the night.

  Riding up the elevator I’m debating with myself what to do when I get to my floor. That is to say, if I still have a job. My boss is still the coldest, meanest, (fine, ok, I admit it) sexiest man I’ve ever even imagined being with, much less tangled up in real life. Who knows how he’s going to be now that we’ve done the deed.

  I don’t know what to expect. There are no illusions on my part: the sex doesn’t change anything and I don’t think sleeping with him magically makes things easier in the slightest. The opposite, in fact. But I don’t kid myself that I’m one of those cool girls who can turn this stuff on and off either. It affects me. If he’s the same cold, domineering son of a bitch he was before what happened between us, I’m going to want to sink through the floor or combust. That uncertainty makes walking back into this office in the light of day one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.

  There’s barely any movement on the floor when I step out of the elevator and head to my office. I’m grateful for that. But I’m only getting settled and pulling my computer from my bag when all that changes.

  “You’re late.” Straight out of my nightmare, his voice is a whip crack over ice.

  I spin around and flick my eyes to the wall clock and then check my phone for good measure. “It’s not even eight.”

  “I called a meeting for senior staff late last night, Demi. Everyone was supposed to be here at seven.”

  “I didn’t…” I sputter, and then rein myself in. “I didn’t check my work email after we—I mean, after I left the office last night.” And you know damn well why, I add silently.

  I get a raised eyebrow from him. “Go ahead and explain your absence to the rest of your colleagues who don’t suffer from the same lack of initiative.”

  I sit down in my chair when he leaves. I feel sick.

  A couple of hours later, I receive a summons via email. Just outside his office door, I’m standing in the exact same spot where it all started last night. Déjà vu, only this time his door is wide open. Peering in, I can see he’s at his desk again, standing behind it, facing the door. Waiting for me.

  “Come in,” he says. And when I hesitate, he says, “And shut the door.”

  His voice is steely. And just like that, I feel it again. Not the frustrated anger of last night in the garage. A quiet realization. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t want to be treated like this. And I don’t have to. No job is worth my dignity. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let any man run roughshod over me, certainly not after I slept with him. I want my job. I want my new life. I’m ashamed that I even want Gabriel, still. But I don’t want this.

  The anger is building up along with my courage to tell him exactly what I’m thinking, but he speaks first.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Ok.”

  “You weren’t at the meeting this morning.” His hands are in his pockets and he’s staring down at his desk.

  He’s starting with this? I have to sigh. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Do you think that because of what happened last night that you can blow off work now?”

  “What?” Instantly, I’m pissed. “No! I left yesterday exhausted. I was completely bombed out by—by what happened.” My hands are on my hips and I can feel my face catch fire. I feel stupid letting him know how much he affected me last night, but I’m not going to let him accuse me of taking advantage. The truth is the only thing I can think to say.

  Gabriel’s lip lifts. “Sure, Demi. You’ve spent the last two weeks telling me how tough you are, and I’m supposed to believe you’re the wilting flower now?

  I snap. “Just like I’m supposed to believe that calling you an asshole is this huge sin that a big, tough gazillionaire mogul can’t handle.”
>
  “Very convenient.”

  “How exactly is this convenient for me, Gabriel? Do please tell. You’ve done nothing but criticize everything about me since I got here. What makes you think I’d invite more of the same, especially now?”

  “Maybe you think that screwing the boss gets you special treatment.”

  Oh no he didn’t. “Of all the arrogant, egotistical, insulting…” I’m starting to literally see red. “Just because sex is nothing to a playboy gazillionaire like you, doesn’t mean it’s nothing to a flesh and blood human, OK? As for ‘special treatment,’ your version is to humiliate and demoralize me. I felt guilty, so I let you, but that ends right now!”

  His face blanches white. “Oh, is that the line, then? You slept with me because you felt guilty?”

  “Don’t twist my words! I was talking about work.”

  “So what was last night?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the exact same question for the last twelve hours.” The sarcasm is so heavy it might crush us both.

  Gabriel stalks around his desk and we face off. “Nothing left to feel guilty about now. You walked in on me last night and found a way to make it all better. By sleeping with me.”

  Something bitter in his voice makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. And he was standing too far away before, I couldn’t see it, but now I look closer, and his eyes look tired. I feel stupid noticing these things about him when he’s being such a jerk, but nothing about my reaction to him makes sense to me anymore.

  I quiet my voice, drop back. “What’s it like living in your brain, Gabriel? Everyone has an angle, an agenda. Everyone wants something from you, ev—“

  “Everyone does.” No mistaking the bitterness now.

  His voice is quiet and low. And for once he doesn’t have the usual smirk on his face.

  “Well I don’t.” And I look him square in the eye when I say it.

  He steps back and leans against the desk, puts his hands in his pockets. His eyes never leave mine.