by Roya Carmen
God, I am so turned on, I can barely stand. “Take it off,” I whisper.
“I’d love to, but the contract states that it remains on,” he points out. “An amendment you requested might I add.”
I moan. “Can’t we break the rules?”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “No, my little grasshopper,” he tells me. “We don’t break rules here.”
I catch our reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. The sight of us is such a turn-on. I turn to him. “You’re not done, Sir. I still have way too much clothes on.”
His grin is impish. “Yes, I agree.” He toys with the pearl button of my blouse, the bottom one, and I study him as he moves up. Everything about him is beautiful; his long lashes, the mischievous curve of his full lips, the chiseled angles of his jaw.
“Lovely,” he says when he discovers the matching lace brassiere. “You are precious.”
He peels my blouse off my shoulders, and I close my eyes in anticipation of his touch. He doesn’t disappoint when he plants a hot kiss on my shoulder, and pulls the strap of my bra down. He slides his finger along the lace hem, and curves it around my breast, freeing it. I’m already fully aroused when he takes my breast in his mouth.
I wrap my hand around his waist and hike up my leg against him. I want him so badly, but I know that’s not in the cards. We’re taking it slow. These were my own rules. And I do want to take it slow, savor every second of the chase. He reaches behind my back, and unclasps my brassiere. It joins my skirt and blouse on the floor.
I toy with his belt, and quickly undo his fly. I haven’t done this in a while, and it feels so strange. He groans when I reach for his erection. I want to feel the desire I inspire in him. I want to imagine him inside me.
His eyes are dark when he presses me softly against the rack of shirts. “Turn around, sweetie.”
19
I pivot obediently, and eagerly await further orders. He reaches over me and slides the hangers in opposing directions. He grabs my hands and wraps them around the hanging rod. “Don’t move.”
I stand in nothing but my thong and heels, impatiently awaiting his next move. He grabs a colorful tie from the perfect rainbow display. He quickly and efficiently wraps it around my wrists and ties my wrists to the rod. He’s obviously done this before. I smile at the wall, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed but in a very good way.
“Now you can’t get away,” he whispers against my ear.
I laugh. “Who says I want to get away.”
He grabs my hips and pulls me against him. He presses a finger at the nape of my neck, and slowly travels down my spine, so leisurely, it drives me crazy. He finally reaches the fabric of my thong. He pauses for a moment, and then continues over the lace, and wraps his hand around my pussy. I desperately want the panties off, but I know things will go too far if he takes them off, and I’m not ready for that yet.
He slaps me once, twice. Hard and harder. I love it. I want more. “Does that hurt, sweetie?”
I smile. “Yes… kiss it better, please.”
He drops to his knees, and kisses the soft tender flesh of my ass. He groans softly as he bites gently. He nibbles, driving me up the wall. I can’t reach out to him or touch myself, or even turn around because of my restraints. All I can do is close my eyes and enjoy his sinful touch.
He groans as his lips leave my skin. I don’t want him to stop. He rises and rubs my ass gently. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.” He kisses the top of my head.
“No,” I tell him, still breathless. “It feels amazing.”
He reaches up and unties me, and as soon as I’m free, I turn to him. He traces the contour of my cheek. “You’ve been a very good girl.”
“I can be better.”
He smiles. “But now you need to get back to work, and I need to jump in the shower.”
“You’re cruel,” I scoff. “Are you going to jerk off in the shower?”
His smile is just mischievous enough. That’s obviously exactly what he’s planning.
“What about me?” I ask. “You can’t work me up like that, and then just leave me hanging.”
He laughs. “You can take care of yourself too,” he points out. “Uh… you may go lay down on my bed if you wish.”
The offer is tempting.
“As long as I can watch,” he adds with a playful smile.
Damn, he’s a kinky fucker. I kind of love that about him. I inch closer. “Why don’t you come to bed with me, and touch me?”
He strokes my ass. “I’m taking it slow. I’d rather watch you please yourself at the moment. Go lay down.”
I consider his words. I’m so worked up. The thought of taking myself to the edge sounds delicious. And the idea of him watching makes it even more appealing. I shoot him a flirty grin, and I slowly walk to his bed. I reach for a pillow and throw it. I do it again with the next one. There are five pillows in all. He laughs as he watches the show.
I slip off my heels, pull the covers off, and slide under the soft cool sheets. They feel amazing. I settle in comfortably and reach for the band of my panties and pull them down.
He takes a seat at the end of the bed. “I want the covers off of you.”
“But it’s chilly,” I argue. “They’re staying on.”
He stands and with one swift move, he tugs them off. “Much better.”
I’m exposed, panties around my knees, frozen against the bed. It is chilly, and I want that duvet back.
“I want to see you,” he says. “All of you.”
God, I want that too. I close my eyes and arch my back. I slide a hand down over my breast, playing with my erect nipples, enjoying the sensation of my own touch. I can’t even remember the last time I did this.
I explore myself, and every now and then I open my eyes to find him watching me with dark eyes. I reach down below and slide a finger along my wetness.
“Damn,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
“Hmmm,” I rub my clit, and it feels so good. “Mr. Hanson never uses foul language.”
“He does when he’s hard.”
I close my eyes and imagine him inside me. I pick up the tempo, writhing against the cool crisp sheets. I moan softly as I feel myself climbing. I know he’s still watching me, and I don’t open my eyes as I finally reach my climax. Soft moans and cries fill the room, and I get completely lost in the moment. I can’t even remember the last time I let go like this. I feel it in every inch of my body.
I’m numb and completely spent when I finally open my eyes. He’s still watching me, and he wears the most delicious smile. “Wow,” he says. “You were absolutely beautiful. This was definitely the best five minutes of my day… my week… possibly my year.”
“Even better than the spanking?” I joke.
“Yes.” He bounces off the bed. “I need a shower.”
I laugh as I watch him go. He’s still fully dressed, and a part of me wants to chase him into the washroom and watch him undress.
But I respect his privacy.
And I let him do his thing.
I pull my thong back up, and peel myself out of his comfy bed. I attempt to make the bed again as it was, but fail miserably. I scurry to the closet and fetch my clothes. I hastily put my bra back on, my blouse and skirt. I run over to the bed and slip my pumps back on. I check myself in the mirror and pat my hair down.
There. Good. Surprisingly, I look exactly like I did before I entered his room.
My heart is still hammering as I walk slowly down the hall. When I pass Rosetta’s desk, I throw her a quick smile, attempting to look casual. She eyes me dubiously.
I settle back at my desk, and fire up my current project, business card designs.
Rosetta eyes me with a raised brow. Whatever she was in the middle of doing has been put on the back burner. “Come over here, Honey.”
I bite my lip. Crap.
“I can’t exactly get up easily,” she points out.
I reluctantly
rise from my desk and head over to hers.
Her gaze darts over me, down my body and up again. “What are you up to?”
“What? Nothing,” I say, feigning innocence. “What are you talking about?”
Her brow is still raised, a perfect upside down V. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“No… I don’t,” I insist.
“You and Boss Man are sticking the banana in the Sundae.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “We are… not.” Technically, we aren’t. I’m not lying.
“Well, you all are definitely doing something. A little afternoon delight?”
“No!”
She smiles wide. “I think you are.”
“We’re not!” I argue.
“Okay… he might not be buttering your biscuit just yet, but something is definitely going on.”
I exhale a long breath. I can’t tell her anything. It’s a clause in the agreement, and is strictly forbidden, but she’s no dummy. She obviously already knows. “Okay… something is up,” I finally confess.
“I knew it!”
I shake my head and inch closer. “He can’t know that you know,” I whisper. “It’s supposed to be a secret.”
Her smile is naughty. “My lips are sealed,” she says. “On one condition.”
“What condition?” I ask, a little scared.
“As long as you give me all the juicy details, I’ll pretend I don’t know a thing.”
I laugh. “You’re too funny.”
There’s no way I’m going to tell her the details. We both know she’s joking.
Well, I hope she’s joking.
“I think these might be last week’s cookies,” I tell Samuel. “They seem to get more stale every week.”
He smiles. “There’s always leftovers. They probably stuff them back in the boxes, and take them out again the next week.”
I abandon my cookie. “That’s disgusting. And unhygienic.”
“I’m bringing homemade cookies next week,” Bernadette chimes in. “I make fantastic ginger molasses cookies.”
“Yes… please,” I beg. “Anything but these.”
Samuel and I both reach for a coffee stir stick, and his hand brushes against mine accidentally, on purpose, I’m not sure. “So last Friday,” he says. “That was nice. We should do it again.”
I nod nervously. It’s the way he says it, like he has other plans in mind. I thought I was very clear about not being ready for a new relationship. “Uh… sure,” I say, at a loss for words.
“I know a great Italian restaurant not far from here,” he tells me. “I do their security.”
I blow on my hot coffee. “Really? Is that what you do for a living?”
He shrugs. “Yep… it pays the bills. I install security systems for businesses and high-end homes.”
“You help keep the monsters at bay,” I joke.
He laughs. “Yep, I protect people from guys like me.”
I stand straighter, confused. “What do you mean?”
He laughs. “I was a bad seed when I was younger. Me and my buddies used to break in expensive homes and loot them, a bunch of delinquent modern-day pirates. It was so easy. Now I know how criminal minds work.”
“Oh… interesting,” I say, not quite believing his words. He seems like such a sweet guy.
“So anyway, this Italian place is fantastic. They make a great veal parm. I took a date there last Saturday… she loved it.”
“Oooh,” I coo. “A date… how did it go?”
He smiles proudly. “Pretty good. Her name is Melissa, and she’s a registered nurse. She’s pretty too.”
I nod, happy to see him moving on. Maybe I’ve been imagining his attraction to me. I should really get over myself.
“So how about it?” he says. “Next Friday?”
I really enjoy his company, and a night out is definitely not a bad thing for me. “Sure… sounds like a plan.”
An excited smile stretches across his face. “Fantastic.”
20
My laptop pings at around ten o’clock. It’s an email from Mr. Boss Man. Short and to the point.
I need you in my office ASAP, Grasshopper.
I smile, and instantly abandon my work. Because that’s what you do when Boss Man calls.
I try to be discreet as I walk past Rosetta’s desk. She’s typing away furiously, focused on her screen. I turn quietly into Weston’s office, and hurry my step as I inch closer to his desk. As soon as I round the corner, I see him hunched over a bunch of papers on his desk. He’s wearing a slim fitted striped shirt and hasn’t shaved today.
He lifts his gaze when he notices me. A slow playful smile stretches across his lips. “You look very smart today, Miss Morris.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“I love the outfit. Very sexy librarian.”
I stare down at my top and skirt. The blouse is a soft sheer pink fabric with a tie scarf neck, and the skirt is a grey pencil style. But the shoes are the best part; vintage Chanel pink and black capped slingbacks with a sexy three inch heel.
“Thank you,” I say as I close the distance between us. “The shoes are vintage Chanel,” I tell him. “I got them for a steal on eBay.”
He smiles and curves his finger, motioning me closer. “They suit you. They have your name written all over them. So you’re a Chanel girl?”
I smile and inch closer, closer still until I find myself standing between his legs. I feel the proximity deep in my core, in every cell of my being. He makes me feel so alive. “I’d like to be, but I can’t afford it. These shoes are the only Chanel I own.”
He raises a brow and wraps a hand around the small of my back. “If you could afford it, what else would you buy?”
I ponder his question for just a few seconds. It’s an easy one to answer. “Well, first off, a classic bag… black. Another pair of heels. Classic black and white. A bracelet maybe. Maybe a dress.”
He smiles, and pulls me closer. I know exactly what he has in mind.
“So what did you want, Mr. Hanson?” I ask, my tone flirtatious. “What is the emergency?”
He laughs. “I just had to see you,” he confesses. “I was going to wait until lunch, but then I found myself obsessed with thoughts of you, and I couldn’t focus on a single thing.”
I get all warm and fuzzy inside at the sound of his words. “Well, I’m here. What are you going to do with me?”
He trails a hand down my skirt, and leisurely slips it under the hem, and up my thigh. I close my eyes at the feel of his touch. It’s only been since yesterday, but I already crave it. He groans when he reaches my lace panties. Needless to say, I never wear cotton briefs anymore or the granny panties I used to wear for a slimmer waistline. I only sport the sexiest of undies at work because I never know when Mr. Boss Man is going to feel me up. A girl needs to be prepared.
“I like these,” he whispers. “A lot.”
I smile down at him. “I’m glad.”
“Turn around,” he commands, and I obey, spinning on my Chanels.
He doesn’t waste a single second. He’s eager when he pulls up my pencil skirt and slides a hand over my rear. “Beautiful,” he breathes.
And then a slap. A hard slap. Then another on the other side. I love every second of it.
And then he surprises me when he bites my flesh. Not super hard, but hard enough to make my heart skip a beat or two. I turn to him, jaw on the floor.
He wears a proud impish expression. “My apologies… I couldn’t help myself. Your bum just looks so delicious in that lace.”
I laugh. “I might have to start wearing my granny panties,” I joke. “You can’t be trusted, Mr. Hanson.”
He smiles. “Might still happen… can’t make any promises.”
I laugh and he rubs my rear softly, easing the sting. I close my eyes again, and revel in the sensation. He gallantly slides my skirt back down over my behind, and presses the folds down. I turn slowly to him.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Rosetta calls out, a polite warning.
We both stand straighter as she approaches his desk.
She sets a folder down on his desk. “The information on the Mansetti project you requested.”
“So you’re back up on your feet, I see,” Weston says. “Glad to see it.”
“I’m not really supposed to be,” she admits. “I’m supposed to take it easy, but you know me. I’m going crazy sitting all day.”
“Thank you for the files,” he says, and I can’t quite be sure but I think he’s blushing. I know I am.
Rosetta turns from us and with great effort, she makes the trek back to her desk. It’s painful to watch her exit the room.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, he pulls me to him. “That was close.”
“I know,” I whisper. “We need to be more careful.”
He laughs. “I think she’s on to us.”
I feign ignorance. “Maybe.”
I smile at her antics. Going crazy sitting all day my ass. She specifically made the effort to catch us in the act. I don’t know her that well, but I know enough to know how her mind works. The woman cannot be trusted.
“Well, I better get back to work, Sir. Lots to do.”
He slaps me once more. “Okay, you get to it, Grasshopper.”
I smile like an idiot all the way out of his office. As soon as I exit his door, I plaster on a serious expression for Rosetta’s benefit. But like I said, the woman is no idiot.
She can see right through me.
She raises a brow as I walk past her desk. “What were you two up to in there?”
I bite my lip. “Uh… nothing.”
“A little slap and tickle?” she teases, and I blush crimson at the accuracy of her statement.
“I’m not telling you anything.”
She pouts. “You’re so cruel. I’ve been married for thirty-four years. Give a woman a little something to live for.”