Under My Boss's Direction: Office Romance Collection With New Novel

by Jamie Knight

  "Darling?"

  Her face fills up the screen, with her nose smudging up her camera.

  "A little further, mama. Like we practiced. Wipe the camera with your sweater so I can see you better." She does. "Ah, there you are. You're quite the student."

  Age has got nothing on Gloria Amador's face. Her pores are still perfect, and her eyes are beautifully canvased within cat eye frames.

  Her hair is longer, and her cheeks ever more radiant. A book lies haphazardly on the bed in the background, and a pillow is behind her neck. I did wake her.

  "How are you, baby?"

  "I'm good, mama. Just wanted to check up on you before Christmas tomorrow. And with this new lockdown."

  Smiling, she licks her lips and yawns mildly.

  "Oh, such a caring daughter. I love you."

  Her voice is a little raspy.

  "How have you been?" I ask her. “What have you bene up to?”

  She raises her brow and thins her lips.

  "Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that. Taking care of the birds as they come. Oh, you know, I found one of your father's old shirts in the attic yesterday."

  "Mama, why are you going to the attic? I told you, get that Fred kid from next door to help."

  "Yeah, but you know these teenagers. They want five dollars for helping me carry in groceries. It's too much."

  "Ay, mama. It's just five dollars."

  "And what would your papa say about that, hmm?"

  "He would always agree with you, until he agreed with me," I say, smiling like a seven-year-old girl in her father arms, wearing a hand-stitched dress.

  "I miss him too, baby. So, what are you doing for Christmas? Are we going to have to Skype too?"

  "I know you hate it, mama, but it's no different than me being there with you."

  "Ay, will you have a taste of my chicken through the phone then?"

  "No," I mutter.

  She laughs.

  "Then it is different. But it will be nice to see you when all of this is over, huh?"

  "Oh, it will be. I'll come over and finally paint the dining room for you."

  She sighs.

  "Ah. Or I'll just get Fred over here and make him do it. He has an older brother, you know. About your age, too."

  "Mama, come on," I chuckle. "Not now, okay? It's late. I have to sleep."

  "Oh, I'm just saying. Every young beautiful woman like you needs a strong man by her side. Like your father was to me. Like your abuelo was to my mother, and so on. I won't meddle, baby, but I would really like some grandchildren to keep my mind busy someday."

  "Good night, mama. I love you."

  "Good night ,Nellie. Merry Christmas. Stay in touch, okay?"

  "Okay."

  I won't chat with Denue tonight. I can’t. It's too soon, and there's no telling what these two days, or two weeks, or however long it will be, will bring.

  It's funny how I randomly chose to bring myself to him, like hooked bait right into the fish's mouth. Closing my eyes to think of how he wrangled that towel, watching me like he intended to have me for dinner instead... mmh.

  It should be easier this time, running circles around my clit, to make myself cum while thinking about him. It's always easy. Only this time, I'm in his den. In his house. He could be right outside the door, waiting for me to moan, to call out to him.

  "Oh, Denue."

  I catch myself shuddering, the danger of the act itself whispering into my bones, daring me to go on. He should be listening. He owes it to himself. He’s the one who makes me think such naughty thoughts about those thick biceps.

  That lean washboard core.

  Red lips for days.

  Big brown eyes, opening and closing to see my spread-out legs, the length of the robe up my thighs and grazing my ass.

  Pushing a finger in, he would play with it, and playfully he would pursue my hidden clit, wooing it out for a game. His thick hands would grab my ass cheeks, squeeze and linger for a minute as he pleasured me all over.

  Jolts of joy would scar my body, as the first orgasm escapes me.

  He would not stop.

  I add another finger and keep playing with myself. He would get close enough to kiss my pussy lips and suck my clit raw.

  He would moan into my hot hole. and dive his face half-in. He would finally put my feet on his shoulders, and rip into my virginity, and his hand would muffle any scream I try to let out.

  He would pound me, squeeze my breasts and tell me how much of a bad girl I've been, teasing him with coy texts and holding out on sending him nudes.

  He would thicken inside of me, and the tip of his shaft would tap and explode deep inside my womb.

  "God, fuck it."

  My walls clamp around my three fingers, and I pull out with an arched back, clenched toes, and a wide, open mouth, whispering through the blood rush back to my brain how good of a fuck my boss is. At least in my fantasies. And I have a feeling he’d be even better in real life.

  I open my eyes to a lightless room, and close them again, to chase that high, away from what I want.

  Chapter Six

  Nellie

  Through the looking glass, I love what I see. A woman, still groggy from sleep, half naked in a bathrobe that accentuates her curves, wickedly smiling at the entangled mess on top of her head, some loose strands of which are falling on the side of her face.

  She is pretty, that woman, loving every bit of Christmas morning in the Combey household.

  Why? Because her real-life counterpart on this side of the mirror, me, smells something really good frying downstairs.

  And because I want my boss to take my virginity as his Christmas present.

  I have nothing else to wear but the beige robe on my back. It should do for now, though. It covers enough that I could still get the paper from the front door if I was wearing it at home. But it’s still somehow sexy. Or maybe it’s just that I feel sexy when I’m around Denue.

  I take a comb from the sheath of many options on the table, which is laid out beside the mists and lotions and moisturizers, and work on my hair. The comb does a really good job of detangling it. Everything in this house is top of the line expensive.

  After pulling myself up and down to thoroughly stretch out my muscles, I pop open the bedroom window, which is huge, and let the cool wind soothe its way down my airways.

  The view is expansive. From up here I can see the whole estate: acres of grass and plenty of trees, a tennis court, a swimming pool, and even a 9-hole golf course. It's beautiful to look out over all the beautiful colors and perfect landscaping.

  I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to quarantine here, as far as places to quarantine go. Although I do hope the pandemic is over soon. I don’t know what the future holds but there is already talk of a vaccine being given to frontline workers and eventually making its way to the populace as a whole.

  I recline the pane and walk back to the door. After swinging it open, I find a package on the floor, wide and velvet, with my name printed on it.

  "Wow," I mutter.

  I look but there's no one else around.

  So, I take it in and unwrap the lid first, careful not to smudge anything in case it's a treat.

  It is. Only a different kind than I was thinking.

  Six dresses. Five skirts. Four sweatpants. Three tops. Two pairs of socks, one with gingerbread men embroidered on them. One silky soft robe that escapes the grasp of my hand. And lotions and creams in a variety of different scents and types.

  This was not cheap.

  I try them all on, relishing the feel of new clean clothes on my skin. Each one is perfect, especially the last.

  I put on the gray sweatpants and white top, rethink the outfit, and excitedly slide the racy velvet robe on.

  Then I go downstairs to greet my benefactor.

  Denue

  Growing up in the Bronx, Christmas would be the craziest time of the year in my neighborhood, with everyone getting drunk and getting into
big family fights. My dad never acted like any other man I saw out there.

  He brought my mom flowers.

  He braided my sister's hair after work.

  He played basketball with me every Saturday morning before his shift.

  But he never came back after my fifteenth birthday.

  It was Christmas Eve, then. He had had to work a long shift at the market. He said it was for the best though, because he would make money during the day and then he had plans for the four of us that night.

  Mom made her special turkey and got us all cozy around the fire after a long day shoveling snow off the windows and cooking at the stove. There I was, holding my little sister's hand at the hearth, humming the tunes blasting through my old Walkman, imagining what it was that Dad planned to do with us that night.

  But he never came back. Not on Christmas Eve. Not on Christmas, either. Not for New Year’s. And not for twenty years after that, and still counting.

  Ma always thought he was in some kind of bad business with the meat industry. There were also rumors and speculation on the block that he was involved with the mob or selling drugs. Carly and I knew that he had been taken for a reason, though, probably one that we would never know and maybe one that even he hadn’t known about.

  Ma never wept in front of us. She always had her head on straight. And she handled herself well enough day to day.

  Every year, though, she would remind herself of the sweet little things. Like hanging the homemade stockings by the fire. Telling us a story from her early years while we slept cuddled around the fire. She made sure to keep special traditions and act as if everything was fine, long after it had all fallen apart.

  Family values still flow through my veins. I never found my dad, despite looking a lot and talking to everyone I could. One reason I got into such a lucrative business was to try to pay people to find him or to talk, but that never worked.

  So, I shifted my focus to philanthropy and trying to make other people happy. All the money in the world can’t make up for what I lost. But some of it can make someone smile a little brighter.

  It was a little past midnight when it hit me: this was my first Christmas not spent with Ma or Carly, but instead spent with someone I actually wanted to introduce to them.

  I ordered the clothes once she fell asleep, hoping I wasn’t too far off on her sizes that I guessed, and the drones were fast. In an hour they had everything noiselessly delivered at my doorstep. And so, I had taken the box up, knelt and placed it at her doorstep, when I heard her moaning my name.

  I knew then that it was no mirage.

  I was not dreaming.

  It was happening.

  Nellie wants me just as much as I want her, and she is going to be my Christmas gift.

  Chapter Seven

  Nellie

  "Something smells really good in here."

  Denue spins around, snaps his fingers and licks the dripping sauce off the wooden spoon. Then he smacks his tongue in delight, and waltzes towards me, swinging his hips and swaying his shoulders. He stops a few feet from me, grinning his cheeks off.

  "You look stunning in that," he says breathlessly.

  "Thank you. I was wondering how you got my exact measurements?"

  There’s a twinkle in his eyes, but he rolls them. I’m following their upward motion when I notice something. That twig of mistletoe was not on the doorjamb last night. I could swear it.

  "I took a guess," he says. "And I wasn’t wrong, huh?"

  "Not in the slightest. Thank you."

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad I did— that looks stunning on you. You look incredible wearing it. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” I say, wanting to add a joke about how anything would look better than the beige robe I’d been forced to wear last night, but deciding against it because I don’t want to ruin the moment.

  "A lot of things have changed since last night," he adds, taking one step closer to me.

  I can smell his aftershave. It’s woodsy and minty.

  “Oh yeah?”

  "A lot," he emphasizes.

  "Whatever could you possibly mean?" I ask with a whisper, tingling at the tender touch of his fingers on the small of my back.

  His lips answer me back quietly, sweetly. Lost, and falling into his arms, I feel a shudder of air escape up the robe's slit and browses my upper thigh. I breathe him in and out, loving the taste of his tongue as it’s wrapped around mine.

  He knows how to touch a woman, that much is for sure. He knows when. In the present moment, his passion lingers all over his movements, which include the squeezing of my naked ass underneath the robe.

  The hunger growls through his thick lips, and his fingers graze all over my back, tenderly traipsing along the curve of my inner thigh, and tracing its way back to my neck, where he holds me close, like a trophy finally in his possession.

  For weeks, our slightly naughty conversation has led to this massive payoff right here under the mistletoe, in the softest robe I have ever worn, under the touch I have wanted the most out of any in my life.

  Sweat perforates my forehead. I feel as if I could faint, but I don’t know if it’s because the room is hot, or because we are. I pull away. He holds me in place, visibly sad that the fire between us is momentarily quelled, but the real one is still burning.

  "Nellie, I need you.”

  He pulls me closer to him. Our lips collide once again as his tongue digs deep into me, his fingers kneading my breasts to the rhythm of our crotches grinding.

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders and let gravity feel my defiance. He pulls me off the ground and onto the dining room table. Now I’m the one to feel him pull away.

  "What?" I say, ready to go on.

  "I have to turn the gas off," he laughs.

  Once he does, the sizzling slows to a halt and he returns to the task of kissing me. Fuck, he tastes so good.

  "I should have told you this, but I heard you last night.”

  "You did?”

  "Yes. When I was making that delivery to your doorstep."

  Unfazed, I say, "Then it was your lucky night, wasn't it?"

  "How so?" he asks.

  I inch closer to his ear, lick it like I like his dick in my dreams, and whisper, "Because this is my thank you for your Christmas delivery."

  He sighs into my mouth as I lock his ass in with my feet. I help him disrobe and pull him away every two seconds just to see his face. This is really fucking happening.

  "Keep the apron on, please," I tell him, remembering how turned on I was when I showed up and he was wearing it.

  "You're sure?" he asks.

  I nod and point to the couch.

  "And one other thing, please. I am not losing my virginity in a kitchen."

  He looks up from between my breasts, startled.

  “You’re a virgin?”

  "I really am, Denue."

  He nods and says, “Well then.”

  I feel his arm snaking up my back, and he hoists me onto his chest.

  "Where are we going?" I ask.

  "Someplace special," he says. “Worthy enough for your first time.”

  I close my eyes and take his full head of hair in my hands. His open mouth is on my breasts, sucking my rock-hard nipples. One of his arms is under my ass, with one hand teasing my inner thigh.

  He leads me to a part of the house that smells like vanilla, opens a wide oak door, and then shuts it with his foot. Then he eases me off of him and onto the bed and kisses me again.

  "I have never slept in this bed before," he says.

  I look around. The walls are still wet with paint.

  "I want it to be a meditation room,” he continues. “A place I can just come to after a long day and think. It's special to me, Nellie. And I want it to be special to you."

  "Why?" I ask.

  "Because I have wanted to know you better for the longest time. Honestly, do you think I would be chatting with anyone else at those ungodly hou
rs?" he says. "I think we've been given a golden opportunity, each to finally be with a person who gets us."

  “Yeah, but…”

  I start to think about our age difference, not to mention the difference in experience levels between us. And the fact that he’s my boss and we could get in trouble at work.

  "Doesn't matter if we love the same shows or food or sleep schedules," he says, to shush me, even though I wasn’t going to mention any of those trivial things. "I just want to feel you now. In this moment. To show you a good time."

  There is no sound in here. No outside influence. It's just us and the purple fire burning in our hearts, his breath shuddering on top of my breath.

  "Okay," I say, and dive for his mouth.

  His warm tongue meets mine at the tip, and I delve into pleasurable sucking and licking. With gentle purpose, I take his apron off, and he slides onto my body with ease. It hardens at the warm entrance of my pussy. Denue pushes me onto the pillows, holds my face in his hands and caresses my cheek with his thumbs.

  "I'll take care of you. Always."

  He pushes himself into my wet crevice, and tenderly whispers into my ear. I feel every throb and each pulse of his big cock, as well as every inch of my undiscovered territory spreading for him to dominate.

  He takes his time, slipping inch after inch of himself into me. Air leaves my lungs, and pain engulfs my entire being. My eyes get wet, and he kisses them.

  "I'll hold it there for a minute."

  "Okay."

  "Is this okay?"

  "Yes."

  I feel full, complete, and oddly, safe. He feels fantastic where he is. Nothing has ever felt this good in my life.

  His weight is even on my frame, and the pressure building up behind his balls warms me.

  “Do you want me to keep going?” he asks.

  Courage simmers inside of me, and I say, "Yes, please. Fuck me, Denue."

  I widen my legs and clamp the walls of my already full pussy tighter around his hard cock. I tug on his taught buttocks with my feet and pull his face in for another kiss. Our shoulders meet, and his hands go behind me, fitting my ass cheeks into his hands.