by Jinx Jamison
It sounds so hot that I shudder at just the thought. “Do it, Sebastian. Come all over me.”
He curses under his breath and then reaches down to pull the condom off. He’s watching me as he jerks himself off, so I decide to put on a show, plunging the fingers on both hands into my wet pussy and using the lubrication to roll the tips of my nipples into tight points.
That does the trick because his hand is moving faster now, the veins on his shaft standing out in stark relief to the dark, engorged head.
“Isabelle… look at you. I’ve wanted you for so long. Fuck!” His face tightens and he moans long and loud as he shudders over me. He collapses half on me, half on the desk, shooting his load all over my belly.
I reach down and twirl my fingers through his cum, carrying it up to my nipples and massaging it into the tight tips.
He watches me with dark, intense eyes. A second later, he straightens. The energy in the room has changed. I’m not sure exactly what to do, what to say. He climbs down from the desk, turns his back to me and pulls his trousers up, refastens his belt. I grab a few tissues from the holder on his desk and hurriedly clean up.
My shirt is on the floor in a wrinkled ball and I can’t find my bra. I pull my shirt on and hastily button it up. Hopefully no one else has decided to come back to the office late. I can always cover up with my jacket on the way home.
I glance at Sebastian. He still has his back to me. Should I just leave? I have no idea what the protocol is for a situation like this? Is there after-fucking etiquette? Should I thank him? The thought makes me smile a little.
Or should I just say “thanks for scratching the itch, now please don’t fire me?”
“Oh, Isabelle?”
I turn slowly, my eyes wide. In the time I’ve been daydreaming, Sebastian has straightened his clothes and is sitting behind his desk reviewing the report I dropped in his inbox. He’s calmly sitting in his chair, the chair, marking on my report with a red pen.
“I see that you submitted a revised copy of the market analysis report. However, I’ll need you here tomorrow in case I should need any additional changes. Eight o’clock.”
My mouth drops open. “Tomorrow? But tomorrow is Saturday!”
He glances up at me and his eyes dip to my hastily buttoned blouse. He licks his lips and just like that, I’m wet all over again.
“Eight o’clock, Isabelle.” He looks down at the report, dismissing me, and I turn to leave on rubbery legs. Just before I reach the door, he calls out again.
“Oh and Isabelle? Don’t be late.” He puts down the report and our eyes meet. “You know how I feel about insubordination.”
…to be continued.
Author’s Note
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Stay Naughty - Jinx
About The Author
Jinx Jamison is from New England and loves everything about the North, except the winters! She writes erotica about ordinary women finding out extraordinary things. She blogs regularly with The Naughty Girls Next Door about her series The Madame X School of Sex
Twitter: @Jinx_Jamison
Email: [email protected]
Web: www.thenaughtygirlsnextdoor.com
KEEP READING FOR AN EXTENDED SNEAK PEEK AT THE MADAME X SCHOOL OF SEX SERIES.
Sneak Peek at The Madame X School of Sex
CHAPTER 1
“The Madame X School of Sex? It’s an urban legend. Doesn’t exist.”
Sarah Caldwell looked out the window of the diner. A steady stream of pedestrians flowed by on the sidewalk outside. Most were wrapped up tight in layers of cold weather armor, their coats, sweaters and scarves protecting them from the early winter chill. A man passing by caught her eye and winked. She glanced away, blushing.
“What is this about? Are you still depressed about Ian?” Candace demanded. Her blonde hair was gathered up into a messy top knot and her makeup was artfully applied to make her blue eyes seem huge.
Sarah heaved a sigh and pushed her bowl to the side. New England clam chowder was usually her favorite but her appetite lately had been off. Unless you counted the two pounds of truffles she’d inhaled the night before. She didn’t really consider chocolate as a food group, more like medication.
“I’m not depressed, just determined. Something has to change.”
Candace leaned across the table and grabbed her hands. “There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. You.” She squeezed her hands with each word. “I could kill that jerk for trashing your self-confidence. How is it possible that a Halle Berry look-alike has no idea how hot she is? You could have any man you wanted if you made yourself available.”
Sarah chuckled bitterly. “I am available. You don’t see anyone lining up, do you?” She swept a hand over her thick, curly hair and sighed. It was long past time she owned up to her own failings.
“Making yourself available would require you to stop wearing your engagement ring.” Candace raised an eyebrow when she tucked her left hand in her lap.
"This diamond is the only thing of value I have to show for the last two years of my life. I might as well enjoy it. "Sarah crossed her arms and sat back in the restaurant booth. She was partially joking but reality was she hadn’t been with a man in eight months.
Eight long, lonely months.
“Do you need me to stay? I could skip my class. We’ll watch sappy, black and white movies and stay up all night just like we used to.” Candace leaned across the booth and wiggled her eyebrows, comically. She was a student at George Washington University in the heart of the nation's capitol. Her education was everything to her so her offer was a true testament to the strength of their friendship. They were polar opposites in every way, from their skin tones to their personalities but she'd never found a better friend. It was doubtful she ever would.
Sarah laughed and shook her head. “You’re almost done with your master’s degree, Ace. I’m not letting you screw up now.”
Candace shrugged and wound her scarf around her neck three times. She pulled on her oversized coat and flipped the hood up. “Anything for you, kiddo. You know I love you, right?”
“I love you too. Now, go!” She shooed her out of the booth with both hands. Once outside Candace passed by the picture window and waved. Then she was gone.
Sarah let the artificial smile she’d been wearing for the past hour drop. Her face was stiff from holding a smile she didn’t feel, forcing laughter that wasn’t genuine. But she couldn’t let her friends see how dejected she really was. It would just invite more worry, more hovering.
And it wouldn’t sway her from her path.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope that held her plane ticket. Not that she needed to see it again, she’d studied it a hundred times since that morning. A plane ticket to Nevada. One chance to find out if she was really broken or not.
The Madame X School of Sex? It’s an urban legend. Doesn’t exist.
Sarah shook her head. “Oh, it exists. In a few hours I’ll have firsthand proof.”
Candace would be furious when she found out. But her friend was a natural femme fatale. She didn’t struggle to have an orgasm and wasn’t shy about taking her clothes off. She’d never had to wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with her. And she’d definitely never been told she was a poor excuse for a woman, who had no clue how to please a man.
Candace isn't the only one who'll be furious.
An image of her boss, Quinn Sanders, entered her mind. He was her favorite erotic fantasy, from his dark good looks to his brilliant, cunning mind. Assisting him had become a daily exercise in mental torture. Wanting something you couldn't have was never easy but it was especially hard when she had to talk to him, sit near him and breathe his scent.
She shook her head hard to clea
r it. The last thing she needed was his disapproving albeit handsome face in her mind. The man was so uptight about everything. She doubted he'd understand her need to attend a sex therapy retreat.
Which was why she'd lied and claimed to be taking a three-week cruise through the Mediterranean.
Sarah held the envelope to her lips and closed her eyes. Please let this work. Please let this work.
“Madame X, here I come. I really hope you live up to the hype.”
* * * * *
Later that afternoon Sarah shut down her computer and locked her office desk drawer. She'd never taken a vacation quite this long before. It was exhilarating but a little scary too. Especially since she had no clue whether this whole thing would end up being a mistake.
"I can’t believe you're leaving me for three whole weeks." Kristen, Quinn's secretary, perched on the edge of Sarah's desk. "He's always a bear when you're not here. You're the only one who can deal with him."
Sarah looked behind them at Quinn's closed door. He'd been in a strange mood ever since she returned from lunch. They were working on an estate plan for one of their oldest and richest clients. Normally, he'd double-check every page of research she prepared and ask a barrage of questions about possibilities she hadn't considered yet.
Today, he'd just said thank you. She'd been so shocked she almost left his office while still holding the file.
"Is it just me or has he been weird today?"
Kristen shrugged. "I don't know but I hope you don't enjoy the Mediterranean too much. If you run off with a cabana boy named Alejandro and leave me here alone, I will come hunt you down."
"Who's Alejandro?"
Both women jumped at the growled question. Sarah turned in her chair to see Quinn standing directly behind them. His dark hair had once again grown out long enough for him to pull it back into a short ponytail. She loved how it curled over his collar when it got too long. Along with his expressive dark eyes, he looked more suited to a motorcycle than a business suit.
Although he looked damn fine in a suit too.
Kristen hopped down and laughed nervously. "Mr. Sanders! Hello. Um…we were just talking about vacations. See you later Sarah." Kristen walked away so fast it was a wonder she didn’t start a brush fire between her thighs.
"I looked over your research on Mrs. DeLanier's estate. Excellent work."
Sarah was sure her mouth must be hanging open. She blinked several times. Had Quinn Sanders come out of his office just to tell her she'd done a good job? Not that he didn't recognize her efforts. He did. It was just usually more along the lines of a nod, a quick email or a big pile of new work in her Inbox.
Nothing says thank you like a crap ton of new assignments.
"Thank you, sir. I tried to finish up as much as I could before leaving." She sneaked a glance at him from the corner of her eye.
"So, the Mediterranean, huh? Is your fiancé treating you to an early honeymoon?" He stood next to her desk and watched as she arranged all the items on the top in a neat line.
People passing by stared openly, not used to seeing the boss out of his office unless he was handing out more work or looking for someone's ass to ream out.
"We're not together anymore. We haven’t been together in months." At his sudden stare, she sank back into her chair. "Not sure why I just blurted that out. It's so much easier not to talk about it." She twisted the ring on her left hand nervously.
"I'm glad you did. We’ve worked together for quite some time now. I'd like to think we're friends." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then shook his head suddenly. He ran a hand over his face before his golden brown eyes settled on her face again. He was looking at her with an expression she'd never seen before. Like he was seeing her for the first time.
"Of course we're friends." She almost stumbled over the words, the idea was so ridiculous. Friendship didn't even begin to describe the way she felt about him. A friend wouldn't make her heart race with just a look and she was pretty sure friends didn’t imagine each other naked either.
Now, I'm imagining my boss naked in the middle of the office. This vacation couldn't come at a better time.
"Well, I think the time off will do me a world of good. In more ways than one," she muttered. She stood and lifted her handbag over her arm.
"Well, I hope you have an unforgettable experience Ms. Caldwell." He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back to his office.
"I hope so too," she whispered. "And I really hope I figure out how to get over you."
* * * * *
Quinn Sanders hated to rush. He'd built his law career on attention to detail and a slow, methodical approach to research. Yet here he was throwing clothes into a suitcase as if his house was on fire. One phone call from an old friend and he'd abandoned his business and his social life. One phone call had spun his entire world on a different axis.
Sarah Caldwell was going to see Madame X.
The phone clipped to his belt vibrated. He yanked it from its holster and held it to his ear. His room looked like a mini-tornado had ripped through it but he didn't even care. He'd been lucky to book a flight at such a late date and if he didn't hurry, he'd miss the plane. He'd have to drive like a bat out of hell to get to the airport on time as it was.
"Yes?"
"I assume you've already booked your flight?" Madame X had a way of getting right to the heart of a matter. How she did this without ever being rude was something Quinn had yet to figure out.
"I had to pay an astronomical fare but I got a flight. I'll be there in the early morning. Thank you for giving me the heads up. This should be an interesting three weeks."
She made a non-committal sound on the other end of the line. Quinn braced himself for whatever it was she would say next. He'd known her long enough to know that the soft sound usually preceded bad news.
"I'm glad I was able to help you out but I must caution you. Ms. Caldwell is a guest of the Madame X School. If she doesn’t wish to work with you for any reason, then you must respect that. I've already stretched the limits of confidentiality. My first obligation has to be to my clients. Even if you are one of my oldest friends."
Quinn nodded even though she couldn't see him. "I would never do anything to make her uncomfortable. I promise you I'll leave if she doesn't want to work with me. Besides, I used to be your employee. Let's just call this a consulting gig."
Sarah would have the option to decline him as her handler but he doubted she would. Plenty of the instructors and a few of the students at the Madame X School wore masks so she wouldn't recognize him. He was glad now that he wasn't prone to long conversation in general. It would make it harder for her to recognize his voice. Even if something about him seemed familiar, he doubted she'd make the connection or question him.
No one questioned Master Q.
"I'm sure Ms. Caldwell will get along with my alter ego just fine. You have no cause for worry."
Silence hummed over the line for a long moment before she spoke again. "You've been out of the game for a while, Master Q. I know you had your reasons for that and I won't pry. I just hope you know what you're doing and are doing it for the right reasons."
Quinn couldn't stop the grin taking over his face. "I know what I'm doing. Sarah Caldwell will get exactly what she needs over the next three weeks."
Madame X chuckled. "I'm sure she will. Hopefully, you will too."
* * * * *
"I still can't believe you're doing this." Pamela shook her head, her long braids tumbling, as she watched Sarah throw clothes into an oversized Luis Vuitton suitcase. She couldn't care less what kind of bag she stuffed her belongings into but Pam had insisted she borrow the designer case. According to her friend, she needed to look "fly" while flying.
"Why are you so surprised? You're the one who told me how to find Madame X in the first place. Seriously, I'll be thirty next year. If I'm ever going to do something crazy, now's the time." Sarah pulled a pair of black three-inch heels from her cl
oset and tossed them on top of the heap of clothes.
Pam heaved a dramatic sigh and snatched the shoes back out of the mess.
"I told you about the Madame X School but I didn't think you'd actually apply to go there. The only reason I know about it is because my crazy cousin went there last year. I never thought Miss Prim and Perfect would sign up for a sex retreat!"
Sarah scowled. "I'm not as boring as everyone seems to think. That's why you’re the only person who knows about this. Candace would turn me over to the guys with the white coats if she found out."
"I know she would. It's going to be hard for me to keep this from her. You better hope she's too busy with finals to question your sudden desire to take a cruise." Pam put the black shoes back into the closet and came out with a pair of red high-heeled pumps that Sarah had bought on a whim a few months ago.