by Roya Carmen
His face cracks into a wide delicious grin.
“It’s to help with the no sex thing,” I clarify. “What do you think?”
He scribbles once more. “Well, I’m not crazy about it, but yes, I agree, it does make sense.”
“I’d also like to add a final request,” I go on.
“Sure, anything.”
I blush a little, thinking about my strange request. “Grasshopper… would like Boss Man to brush her hair whenever she demands it.”
A slow smile stretches across his face. “I love it. I can certainly do that. Why did I not think about that one myself?”
“I love getting my hair brushed,” I confess. A pang hits me as I’m brought back to memories of Donovan brushing my hair before bed. It’s one of the many things I miss. Recollections of him hit me at the strangest of times.
He scribbles furiously on his copy. “Done. Anything else?”
I smile up at him. “Nope. That’s it.”
He seems surprised. “Really?”
“Really.”
He smiles. “Come back in five minutes.”
“Okay.”
He turns his attention to his laptop and starts clicking away. I excuse myself and quietly retreat to my desk. I finally arrange my things, all the while wondering what will happen next. My heart beats a mile a minute, and my pussy is on high alert. How can I possibly get any work done like this?
I click open my current work-in-progress, but I can’t focus long enough to get anything done.
Finally, Boss Man makes an appearance, a huge smile on his face. “All done. You mind coming in my office, Miss Morris?”
I stand. “Not at all, Sir.”
I follow him eagerly down the small hall of his office, and we finally make it to his desk, where the agreement sits, ready to be signed. “I’ve made all the amendments you requested,” he explains. “Would you like to go over it again?”
I smile. “That won’t be necessary. I trust you.”
He grabs the pen and signs his name, and adds the date. He hands me the pen with a playful grin. I eagerly grab it, and sign my own name, not quite believing that we’re really doing this.
As soon as I’ve signed my name, he takes the pen from me and sets it on the desk. “Turn around,” he says.
I’m taken aback, but I do as I’m told and turn to face him. He slides a slow hand under the hem of my skirt, and slowly up the inside of my thigh. I close my eyes and melt into the delicious sensation of it. He’s certainly not wasting any time, and I’m certainly not complaining.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since your first day,” he confesses, his words a whisper against my ear. “I love this skirt. Excellent choice, Grasshopper.”
He teases, stroking the inside of my thighs leisurely, almost but not quite touching my sweet spot. I’m breathless, and desperately want him to explore me further. “You can… touch me,” I tell him, my words heavy but soft. “It’s… in the agreement,” I point out. “Sexual touching.”
He laughs softly. “I enjoy taking my time. I want to savor the softness of your skin. Your thighs are as soft as a baby’s bottom.”
I smile and reach for him. I want to see if he’s hard, and sure enough, when I feel him over his pants, he certainly is. He groans, and I laugh. “Two can play this game,” I say playfully.
He finally ventures up higher, and my breath hitches. It feels so good, I suddenly regret removing certain terms from the contract. I don’t want to take it slow anymore. I want him right now, right here, on his desk.
“I’m driving you wild,” he says. “I can feel it.”
“You are,” I admit. “You are such a tease, Sir.”
“I like these panties,” he breathes. “I think I just might take a closer look.”
I close my eyes, glad that I’ve put on my best undies, white lace bikini briefs.
He falls to his knees, and pulls my skirt up to my waist. He flips me around, and his mouth lands on my ass cheek. I flatten my hands on his desk to steady myself. He drops soft kisses on the lace fabric. He bites softly, and I go wild for it. God, he can’t tease me like that.
He grabs my hips, pulls me toward him, and my torso crashes against his desk. He slides a finger under the hem of my panties, and tugs them up my ass crack. He kisses my bare skin, and I melt. I can’t remember ever being so aroused. He bites softly and licks leisurely, his guttural moans buried against my skin.
I close my eyes, and let myself enjoy the moment. I haven’t felt this kind of pleasure in ages. It’s been way too long. I’d almost forgotten that my body was capable of experiencing these kinds of sinful sensations. Because if Mr. Boss Man is anything, it’s sinful.
“Beautiful,” he says softly. “Absolutely beautiful.” He slaps my bum once, and stands tall.
I turn to him, wondering what is next.
His smile is wicked. “Back to work, Grasshopper.”
My jaw falls to the floor. He’s got to be kidding? He can’t work me up like that, and then just ask me to leave.
“Back to your desk,” he commands, and I slowly walk back down the hall in his office. He follows me out. When he shoots me an impish grin and closes his door, I finally get it. This must be his thing. He likes to tease, to draw the dance out, make a whole meal of it. I can’t say that he hasn’t warned me. He’s told me that he likes to take things slow.
What did he call himself? A sensualist… yes, that’s it. I smile, not quite sure how I feel about it all. I wonder what he’s doing behind his closed door. I bounce over and turn the handle, but it’s locked.
Yes, I think I know exactly what he’s doing.
How am I supposed to get back to work after that? I grab my water bottle and down a long drink. I turn my attention to my laptop screen and attempt to get back to it.
And I just know it’s going to be a very long day.
13
Around three o’clock, our quiet space suddenly gets very loud. I peel myself from my office chair to go check out what the commotion is all about. When I get to the kitchen, I see them, heads buried in cupboards and the refrigerator. They both eye me curiously.
“Hi,” I say, ill-at-ease. “I’m Gretchen.”
The pretty girl closes the distance between us, and offers me her hand. “Hi. I’m Elizabeth.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I tell her.
“I’ve seen you around,” she says. “I like your hair. I wanted to get my hair dyed too… blue, or maybe pink. Anyway, my dad won’t let me. My mom’s cool with it, but my dad is such a…” Her words trail off, and I smile.
“I work for your dad,” I volunteer. “I’m the Graphic Designer working on branding for his new charity.” A sudden vision blurs my mind, Weston’s mouth on my ass. I blush crimson and turn my head, hoping she doesn’t notice.
She downs a sip of her chocolate milk. “Cool.”
The boy extends his arm, and I’m struck by the resemblance as we shake hands. I’m sure he’s going to be a heartbreaker like his father when he grows up.
I don’t know Weston very much, but I already know this: the man has heartbreaker written all over him. I’m already guarded. There’s no way I’m letting myself fall for him. This is just sex.
“I’m Ashton,” the boys says.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Great, I see you’ve met my kids,” Weston cheers and drops a quick peck on Elizabeth’s forehead. “How was your day, kids?”
Elizabeth pouts. “The usual.”
“I aced my test,” Ashton tells him.
Weston opens the refrigerator, and helps himself to a frozen coffee drink. “I knew you would.”
I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so I turn on my heel. “Well, it was nice to meet you,” I say. “I should get back to work.”
They both quickly wave goodbye, a barely-there gesture.
I’m surprised when Weston runs after me.
“Sweet kids,” I tell him.
He smiles. “
Yeah, I have them this week. They usually get home around three if they don’t have after-school activities,” he tells me. “So no playtime after three,” he whispers.
I laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it… playtime?” I ask quietly.
He grins playfully. “Yes… Boss Man loves his playtime with his little grasshopper.”
Damn.
I’m instantly brought back to this morning, and the feel of his mouth on my ass. I’m turned on again. I shake my head, wondering what kind of weirdo I’ve gotten myself involved with. I don’t really care as long as he keeps making me feel this way.
“Grasshopper loves our playtime too,” I whisper just before returning to my desk.
He shoots me a wink and disappears, leaving me wanting more.
Yet again.
On Wednesday morning, I find a colorful lollipop bouquet on my desk, and I smile. I study it more closely; strawberry-banana, cotton candy, caramel apple, watermelon, fruit punch, and other yummy flavors.
I settle down at my desk, ready for the work day, and eager to see Weston. I now have my own key, and can let myself in in the morning. I kind of miss Mr. Boss Man greeting me at the door, but since he’s not always available, this makes more sense.
I’m smack in the middle of a new concept design. I’ve gone over a few, but they’ve all left me uninspired. I’m finding this project challenging because I care so much. I really want to do a good job.
“Hey, Grasshopper.”
I look up and leisurely give him the once-over. He looks fine in grey slim fitting khakis and a grey V neck tee.
I smile up at him. “Thank you for the lollipop bouquet.”
“How did you know it was from me?”
“Who else would it be from?”
He grins and inches closer. He studies the image on my screen and glances at the mess on my desk. “Can I see what you’ve got so far?”
I wince. “It’s not quite ready yet,” I admit.
He smiles. “I need those original concepts soon, Miss Morris. You’ve been here almost two weeks now.”
“I’ve been kind of distracted,” I point out, my tone flirtatious.
His grin is playful. “I think you might need to be disciplined, Miss Morris.”
My pussy instantly perks up. “Really?”
“In my office now.”
I practically bounce off my chair, all eager bunny. I’m not sure what his brand of discipline entails, but I’m pretty sure I’ll love it.
I’m breathless as I head to his desk, anticipating his next move.
“Come closer,” he says. So I do. I walk slowly to him until we’re about six inches apart. He stands tall over me, and his smile fades. He reaches for a lock of my hair and toys with it. He leans down, and his hot mouth presses against my cheek. I inhale the moment in, delighting in the sensation. He slides his mouth down toward my lips. He brushes gently over them, his light stubble soft against my skin.
“No kissing,” I remind him quietly.
His growl is buried into my skin. He slides his mouth down my neck, and I rake my hands through his soft hair. “Undo your buttons for me, sweetie,” he says softly.
I eagerly get to work on the buttons of my blouse, and he slides a hand up my pencil skirt. When I’m finally done, he smiles. “I don’t like this,” he says, staring down at my camisole. “Too many layers.”
I laugh and eagerly pull at my camisole, and I finally reveal my brassiere.
He traces the lace trim. “Beautiful.” He dips his head, and with a skillful hand, he frees my breast from its cup, and takes it in his hot mouth. He moans as he sucks my nipple and bites gently. The sensation goes straight to my sex, making me so wet.
This is pure torture. All of it. I want to take it further. But I don’t. I’m not ready to be with another man. I’ve never been with anyone but Donovan. It would feel like a betrayal. But when do I stop feeling like this? His death was my fault, and I don’t deserve a second of pleasure. I should be the one six feet under.
I push Weston away, and he eyes me with concern. “This hardly feels like being disciplined,” I tell him. “I’m enjoying it way too much.”
He laughs. “Yes, I apologize. I’ve kind of been sidetracked.”
“Yes, very much so, Mr. Hanson.”
“Turn around,” he commands, and I spin around like a ballerina.
“Press your hands flat on my desk.”
Again, I obediently do as I’m told. I’m loving every minute. I never realized I was so submissive before, but turns out I am. I enjoy every second. I love being under his control, at his mercy.
Once again, he grabs my hips forcefully and pulls me against him. My whole body dips down, and my face is pressed against the notebook on his desk.
He pulls up my pencil skirt, and I bite my lip in anticipation of what is to come. He traces a soft finger along my thigh, teasing, taking his time. He slaps me once, not too hard. “Bad girl.”
I smile, wanting more.
He does it again. “I want those concepts on my desk by tomorrow morning. If they’re not there, I’ll just have to spank you again, Grasshopper. Understood?”
I laugh.
“Understood?” he asks again, more sternly this time.
“Yes, understood, Mr. Hanson.”
He pulls down my panties and strokes my ass. “God,” he breathes. “You have an amazing bum. I want to make it red.”
“You can,” I say, giving him permission to kick it up a notch. “I’ve been very bad.”
He slaps harder, really hard. It hurts, but feels so damn good. I want more. I finally understand what the Fifty Shades fuss was all about. I’d read the books, and enjoyed the romance of it, but never really understood how Anastasia could enjoy being hurt. Now I really get it.
“Harder,” I beg.
“Are you sure, sweetie?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He slaps me again. Hard. Once. Twice.
I whimper.
“I think that’s enough for today,” he says and rubs circles against my skin. “I wouldn’t want this lovely bum to get too sore.” He falls to his knees and kisses me gently. He pulls my panties further down.
I desperately want him to take them off, and fuck me right on his desk. But I know I’m not ready for that yet. I know I’ll regret it. “Oh no, you don’t,” I warn. “Remember the rules. Panties stay on at all times. Back up they go, please.”
He laughs and growls at the same time, and reluctantly pulls them back over my rear.
“I’m not crazy about these rules,” he whispers against my ear. “I’m so hard.”
I grin like an idiot. “Mr. Boss Man is so horny all the time,” I tease. “It must be painful.”
“It is,” he tells me. “But you can’t blame me. I haven’t had sex in about three years.”
I whip around. “Really?” I ask, shocked.
He smiles, bashful. “Really.”
“But why?” I ask. “Someone like you? You could have anyone…”
“Someone like me?” he says. “Believe it or not, I don’t meet women at every corner, and besides I’m not the kind of man who just wants a body. I need to experience a connection with a woman to fully desire her. And that doesn’t happen often.”
“Oh…” I say, at a loss for words.
“I went through a really hard break-up four years ago—”
“Yes… your divorce. That must have been hard.”
He plays with a lock of my hair. “No, it wasn’t my divorce. It was someone else.”
My heart dips into my stomach. Someone else? Was he cheating on his wife? Was that why they got divorced? Who is this other woman? Does he still see her?
“But I don’t want to talk about her.” He kisses my shoulder. “I try not to think about her too much.”
I’m speechless, and suddenly feel mildly nauseated. There’s someone else. Not only is there a beautiful ex-wife in the picture, but there’s also a mysterious woman, a woman he clearly
loved more than his wife. And what am I? Just a fun distraction?
“I should get back to work,” I tell him. “Playtime is over, Mr. Boss Man.”
He eyes me curiously, confused.
He’s still frozen as I head off and wave goodbye. I turn the corner, and remind myself that this is supposed to be fun. It’s just sex. Yet, I’m already falling. I’m already jealous. I really am no good at this at all.
14
An hour later, I receive an email from him.
Dear Gretchen,
I hope you are enjoying your day.
I very much enjoy having you around, and despite playful appearances, I’m not eager to receive your design concepts. Take as much time as you need.
I’ve been enjoying our playtime tremendously, and I look forward to much more naughty play with my grasshopper.
Can you join me for lunch again today? I’m making roast beef sandwiches.
I want to apologize if I’ve said anything to offend you during our last playtime. You left rather abruptly, and you were unlike yourself. I love seeing your beautiful smile, and wouldn’t want it to disappear. It’s one of the things I look forward to every day.
Looking forward to spending more time with you.
Sincerely,
Weston (a.k.a. Mr. Boss Man)
Damn, his words get to me. But I’m still very upset. And I hate myself for it. This has barely started, and I’m already letting my emotions get the best of me. I decide to skip the roast beef sandwiches and head to my place for lunch instead.
Since Ethan is at daycare from ten to three, I’m all alone, eating a sad bowl of canned soup and an apple. Part of me regrets not accepting Weston’s lunch offer, but I was just too upset. I needed a long pause to remind myself to keep it together. I cannot, under any circumstances, fall for the man. He will only hurt me.
I stare at the wedding ring on my finger. Donovan is my only true love, and always will be.
Samuel and I are stifling laughs as Charmaine goes on about her recent issues with flatulence. She is a chatty Cathy, the queen of too much information. Well, I guess that kind of thing comes with the territory of getting older. Everything starts to let go, and you don’t mind talking about it. The older we get, the less discreet we get.