“You take too much on.”
“I’ve got help.” Looking at his watch, he said, “I’ve got Chef and the director of catering meeting me shortly. They’ve got it pretty much in hand, I’m just overseeing things.”
Warrington moved around his desk to the opposite side where Alison stood. Alison watched him move, remaining motionless. He came up behind her, standing, his head buried in her long, chocolate brown hair, his lips close to her ear.
“Do you have to go soon?” she asked, looking forward.
“I have some time,” he whispered into her ear.
Alison made to move her head to face him, but he reached up and held her chin, gently but firmly, keeping her face forward, away from his. “Alison,” he whispered again.
The breath of his voice made Alison’s skin tingle. She knew that voice, wanted that voice, but at the same time, never heard it, here, in his office. She didn’t come here for this; she was simply in the area and dropped by. But now that it was happening, was she all right with it? Surprising herself, Alison decided she was, she was all right with this. Being in his office, this was new, it was different, and she liked it. Quite recently, she’d begun to think about new and different ways she could be with him, she was pleased that he was thinking the same way, even though they had never discussed it. Should she bring it up now? No, certainly not. Best to just go with it, go with the excitement of the thought, and the possibility of the action. She liked that Warrington wanted her this way.
“Yes, sir,” she replied as she knew she had to. She could feel Warrington’s smile broaden from where his mouth rested on the side of her head.
“Alison, are you willing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir, what? Explain.” The hand that held her chin now slid down her neck. He opened his hand wide to encompass her throat. He pushed her head back, squeezing gently.
Alison tried to answer the question, but the constant pressure on her throat made it difficult. She strained to speak, and when she did, her words came out hoarsely. “I’m willing. I want you to take me here.”
The pressure on Alison’s neck increased, Warrington holding her tighter. Breathing became more difficult. Alison opened her lips, her mouth, trying to suck in air. Little got through. She began to feel faint. The pressure on her neck increased.
Just when she felt she would lose consciousness, Warrington released his grip on her neck, but not on her. She slumped a little, filling her lungs and clearing her head. As she slumped, Warrington grabbed her elbows, spinning her around, his face close to hers.
As her head cleared, so did her vision. She saw Warrington’s sparkling, desirous eyes looking down into hers.
He squinted, then said, “Over there.”
Alison knew what this meant, what Warrington wanted. “Yes, sir,” she croaked, her voice still rough from his grip.
Alison looked over her shoulder at the couch across the room. She looked back at Warrington, smiled, and moved towards the couch.
Motionless, Warrington watched Alison cross the room.
When she reached the couch, she stopped, turning to face him. She looked back at him, inquiringly.
He stepped towards her. “Get undressed.”
Alison was quick to obey. She began unbuttoning her blouse, her head downcast towards her buttons, but her eyes focused upwards on Warrington. She tossed her blouse aside and unclasped her bra. Her small breasts were still high and firm, despite having a child. She stood topless as Warrington reached her.
He extended a hand, roughly slapping her left breast, then her right. Red welts rose immediately.
“Thank you, sir,” Alison said.
She reached for him, but he pulled back just out of her reach. “I will tell you when you can touch me,” he said. “Take off your underwear.”
Alison began to undo the clasp to her skirt.
“No.” Warrington’s word stopped her. “Leave it on, just the underwear.”
Alison reached up under her skirt and pulled off the black thong she wore.
Warrington stepped forward, pinching the nipple of her left breast with the fingers of his right hand.
Alison was caught off guard by the sharp pain in her breast. It took her breath away. She leaned into him and the pain.
Warrington squeezed the nipple harder.
“Yes, sir,” Alison gasped into his chest. “Yes, sir.”
Warrington reached around her waist and slid his left hand under her skirt, cupping Alison’s round, ample ass. His hand was warm and his touch gentle, in sharp contrast to the pinch of his right hand.
Alison slid her hips backwards, equally enjoying the gentle touch as much as the pain.
Suddenly Warrington pinched her ass, forcing Alison to start upwards.
Her upwards motion pulled hard on the nipple clamped between Warrington’s fingers. Pain, pleasure, pain, it was all exquisite. Alison felt her pussy warming because of Warrington’s touch.
“Do you like it?” Warrington was growling in her ear.
“I do, sir. I do like it.”
“What part do you like?”
Alison knew Warrington liked it. If the size of his erection pressing against his dress pants was any indication, he liked it a lot.
“All of it,” she said, moving her hand to rub Warrington through the front of his trousers.
Warrington released her ass from his pinching fingers, but continued his clamp on her nipple, beginning to roll it between his fingers.
The pain shot from Alison’s breast to her pussy. She could feel the wetness growing, flowing.
Quickly, without warning, Warrington smacked Alison’s ass with his hand. He smacked her so hard she jumped up, pulling her nipple free of Warrington’s grip in the process.
Alison looked down to see her nipple, deliciously red and swollen.
Both hands free, Warrington shoved them under Alison’s skirt, grabbing her ass cheeks. He pulled her close in doing so.
Alison, a head shorter than Warrington, smiled into his chest. “I like that, sir.”
“What? What do you like?” Warrington knew what she liked, what she wanted. He wanted to hear it and she had to say it.
“I like it when you put your hands on my ass.” To accentuate the point, Alison squirmed around, rising on her toes so that the fingers in Warrington’s right hand slid between her legs, to her wetness.
Warrington understood, slipping a finger inside Alison’s pussy, feeling her warmth, her wetness. Warrington removed his fingers and spanked Alison again.
“I like that even more, sir,” Alison cooed.
Abruptly, Warrington swung Alison around. He sank down onto the couch, pulling her down into his lap.
Before she knew it, Alison was face down in the cushions of the couch, laying across Warrington’s lap.
He grabbed both her arms by her wrists, holding them behind her back, gripped by his powerful, large left hand.
She smiled as she felt his hard penis push against her belly.
With his right hand, he tossed up Alison’s skirt, exposing her ass. Her thighs were gleaming with juices. He gently rubbed both ass cheeks with his free hand, occasionally brushing his fingers in between her legs to feel her wetness. His wet fingers trailed against her ass cheeks.
Alison could feel his fingers spreading her warm juices all over her cheeks. It made her pussy wetter.
The first slap was unexpected, but oh so very welcome. This is what she wanted, and she knew Warrington would give it to her. The second slap was harder than the first, as was each successive spank, each one jolting her forward. Her long brown hair fell over her face and eyes. She couldn’t see anything, but she didn’t need to. All she needed to do was feel the strong, forceful spanking Warrington was giving her, and to feel the orgasm beginning to well up inside of her. She hoped she wouldn’t come too soon, yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. This new wrinkle, Warrington taking her in his office, was exciting her to orgasm
quicker than usual.
Alison didn’t hear the suite door open, nor did she hear it close. Warrington’s slaps continued to echo in the small suite, hiding the sound of footsteps that came across the carpeted floor. It was only when Warrington stopped spanking her, that she sensed someone else was in the room. It was only when a smaller hand, not Warrington’s hand – she knew what his hand felt like and this wasn’t it – was placed on her throbbing, burning ass cheeks, that she realized someone else was there.
Alison’s body froze at the touch of another person. Her body stiffened and she struggled against Warrington’s grip in her wrists. He was too strong, and she could not break loose. She tossed her head back, trying to get her hair out of her eyes, trying to see who else was there, but she could not free her sight. She saw only an outline of a person through the strands of hair that would not get out of the way.
“Matt?” she called out in fear. “Is someone else here?”
“Quiet,” he commanded.
So, Warrington knew there was someone else. This calmed her somewhat, but not totally. She was mortified to think someone else was in the room seeing her this way, lying over Warrington’s lap, ass exposed, on the brink of an orgasm.
“Matt,” she called out again.
“That’s enough,” Warrington commanded. Three hard slaps on each cheek accompanying his word.
Alison obeyed, quiet and frozen, focusing on the pain to distract her from her thoughts.
Alison felt Warrington’s familiar hand caressing her reddened ass cheeks, and the hand of another, rubbing her inner thighs, caressing them up and down, down, and up. Each upward caress came closer and closer to her pussy.
Alison’s mind told her this was too strange, too much for her to handle, but her body told her otherwise. The strange, caressing, probing fingers found her clit. The fingers no longer roved up and down her inner thighs, they remained between her legs, tweaking and stroking. Despite her own desires, amid Warrington’s caress and the stranger’s fingers, Alison’s body relaxed, once again laying limp across Warrington’s lap. She buried her head in the cushions of the couch, not thinking, just feeling.
The fingers between her legs expertly encouraged the orgasm that had begun to build earlier. The stranger must have sensed how close Alison was, as the strokes on her clit intensified with the increasing warmth.
Alison felt her orgasm rise from deep inside her. She spread her legs slightly, giving the probing fingers freedom to continue. Held down by Warrington and spurred on by the orgasm welling up inside, Alison surrendered to her body. She strained to arch her back against the pressure Warrington was applying to hold her down. She came hard and long, longer and wetter than she had in quite some time.
Seeing her orgasm, Warrington eased up the pressure of his hold, allowing Alison the range and movement she needed to fully embrace it.
Seconds that seemed like minutes passed as Alison’s orgasm ran through her body. In the throes of her ecstasy, she was aware of nothing except the pleasure her body granted her.
When she was able to focus her mind again, Warrington had released his grip on her wrists, and was no longer holding her down. Realizing this, she jumped off his lap, pulling her legs up to her chest, tossing her hair out of her face, swinging into a sitting position on the couch, her back to the arm rest, her feet on the cushions.
Warrington rose as if nothing had happened.
Alison watched in quiet amazement as he strolled across the suite, lifted his jacket off the back of the chair and slipped it on.
He came back to Alison and kissed her on the head. “I’ve got that meeting I told you about.” He strode towards the door before turning back to Alison. “Stay as long as you like, but I’ll be out all afternoon.”
Alison looked at Warrington, speechless and utterly amazed. “Did that just happen? What the hell just happened?” she shouted to him across the room, stopping him in his tracks.
Warrington stood with his hand on the doorknob. “What do you mean?” He was smiling.
Alison pulled her knees tighter into herself. “Are you kidding me? Don’t try to make me think I imagined it, that I imagined there was someone else in the room, someone else touching me.” Alison spoke so fast she could barely get the words out.
“No,” he said, slowly, casually, “you didn’t imagine it.”
Alison took a moment to let the confirmation of her suspicions register. “So?” she said with a shrug.
“So, what?”
“So, who was it?”
“Does it matter right now?” he asked.
“Of course it does, it matters.” She threw a cushion at him. It landed at his feet.
Warrington walked back towards Alison, sitting on the opposite end of the couch while Alison remained where she was.
“My love,” he began.
“Don’t ‘my love’ me,” she said, cutting him off. But his words had the effect she knew he wanted them to. Hearing them, and the affectionate tone, disarmed her. She slid her legs down, straight across the couch, her toes touching his thigh.
Warrington began again. “Did you enjoy it?”
Alison didn’t want to answer, couldn’t answer. She was confused. She did enjoy it, but there was someone else. And yet...
“Alison?” It was his commanding voice now.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Hesitantly, she answered. “Yes, I did. But–”
It was his turn to cut her off this time. “That’s all that matters right now.”
“But–”
Warrington stopped her. “No,” he said, tickling her toes and getting up from the couch. He leaned in and kissed her.
Alison threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a longer kiss than he’d originally offered. When the kiss ended, she looked deep into his face and those eyes. “But Matt, I didn’t expect that. I would never have expected that.”
“You didn’t seem to object.”
She punched him playfully in the chest. “How could I? You were holding me down.”
“But you came.”
Alison grew suddenly reserved. Quietly, she said, “Yes, I did.”
“Hard.”
“Hard,” she echoed.
Warrington gently freed himself from her embrace. He stood and began moving for the door. He looked at his watch. “I’m late, we can talk more about it later. Pick me up after work.”
Warrington gave Alison a beautiful, loving smile as he swung the door open. “I love you.” The next moment he was through the door, gone.
Chapter 2
Miranda sat behind her desk in her office, smiling, pleased, and amused at the same time. She was still, sorting through the flood of thoughts that fill her mind. Her focus was suddenly broken by a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” she called with a raised voice.
The door opened halfway, Warrington poking his head inside.
Miranda smiled. “Did you tell her it was me?”
Warrington smiled back. “No.”
“Did you even tell her I would be there?”
“No.”
“Seriously?” Miranda dropped her smile. “Why not?”
“I was going to, then I started enjoying the game.”
“Is she upset? I would be upset.” Miranda paused a second before saying, “That’s not right.” A concerned expression crossed her face.
“It’s fine,” Warrington saw her expression and tried to ease her mind. “I know Alison, I knew how she would react. She was upset at first. Then she thought about it, and how much she enjoyed it.”
“She liked it?” Miranda’s voice rose an octave, sounding inquisitive and hopeful at the same time.
“Couldn’t you tell?”
“Oh yeah, I could tell.” After a pause, “good.” Miranda relaxed again. “So, she’s in for tomorrow?”
“Not so fast. Once, caught off guard and surprised, is not the same as knowing what’s going on an
d agreeing to it.”
“But you just said–”
Warrington cut her off, looking at his watch. “I’ve got to run, I’m late already. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Warrington–”
The door was already closed, and Warrington was gone.
The Dominion hotel is set back from the sidewalk, the cobblestoned drive leading up to the porte cochere arching up to the front of the hotel. A large flower bed sits in the middle, between the hotel and the street. Miranda stood just outside the glassed entranceway, clipboard clutched close to her chest, waiting, watching the traffic go by and looking at the flowers in bloom. She always fantasized about how rewarding it would be to have a green thumb, to grow a living thing, adding color and beauty to the world. She’d tried her hand at gardening a few times, with little success, and had resigned herself to admiring other people’s handiwork.
A black sedan entered the driveway on Miranda’s left, slowly making its way up the driveway towards the hotel entrance. Miranda checked her clipboard quickly, before the car was upon her and she had to reach for the door handle of the car that came to rest before her.
A tall, thin, European-looking man stepped out of the vehicle, silently, expectantly standing in front of Miranda.
“Signore Dante,” Miranda pronounced his name with a perfect Italian accent, as if she were announcing his arrival.
Dante finally moved, pleased to have been announced. He took off the sunglasses hiding his eyes, looking around the porte cochere as if expecting an audience to recognize his name and acknowledge his arrival. There was no one there to do so, only Miranda and the doorman. When he realized this, he turned his gaze on Miranda, flashing a smile that showed perfect teeth.
“Antonio Dante,” was all he said, sliding his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored silk suit with a demeanor of casual disinterest.
As if from nowhere, an equally tall Italian woman appeared at Antonio’s elbow, slipping her arm into his, taking possession of him. He did not acknowledge her presence, continuing to look at Miranda. Not giving his companion even a side glance, he said, “This is Brigitte. She is my,” he paused, “pet.” His accent was thick, but his annunciation was perfect.
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