10 Commandments

by Dark Angel

  “I’m sorry, Sienna, I got distracted and —” I start to say the moment I open the office’s door, but there’s no one inside. Closing the door behind me, I walk into the main room and throw my purse over my desk. With only three rooms, Sienna’s offices are tight and cramped, but usually they’re never empty. The door to the main office—hers—is closed, but there’s no sound coming from the inside.

  Then, suddenly, I hear something.

  “Three months,” I hear Sienna say, but there’s something unnatural about her voice. I don’t know if it’s her tone or something else, but something just doesn’t feel right. “Yeah. No, just like I said. Three months and we’ll crush these Naughty Angel Publishing bitches.”

  What? I knew Sienna has complicated relationships with others authors and publishing houses, but I never knew she hated Naughty Angel Publishing this much. And why the hell would anyone hate NAP and Abby? They changed the industry and, in the process, they inspired hundreds of writers.

  In fact, Abby was the one that ignited that spark inside of me. Ever since I laid my hands on a copy of 12 Inches I knew I had to work in the industry.

  “Yes, we’ll talk later. I’m kinda… busy right now,” she finishes off, and then a sullen silence takes over the whole office. But under that sullen silence there’s a soft sound of flesh-on-flesh hiding underneath it... It’s as if there’s someone else moving inside Sienna’s office.

  Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I push her office door open and step inside. “Is everything —?” I start to say, but the words suddenly grow so heavy inside me that they drop down my throat.

  Sienna’s on her knees, the straps of her dress hanging from her shoulders to reveal the outer edge of her lace bra, and her mouth’s open. And, inside her mouth, there’s a cock.

  A cock belonging to none other than my dear boyfriend.

  Trevor opens his eyes the moment he sees me walk in and, placing one hand over Sienna’s head, he lets her know that they’re not alone. She stops then, replacing her mouth with her hand, and looks back at me over her shoulder.

  “Hello, Cara,” she smiles wickedly, her hand moving faster over Trevor’s cock. I stare at her with my mouth hanging open, my heart feeling like a ticking bomb.

  “What … what’s all this?” I mumble, looking from Trevor to her. His eyes are so wide that they seem as if they’re about to explode any second now.

  “This is Trevor’s cock,” she chuckles, and the sound of her voice is enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I knew Sienna wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world, but this… This is too much! “And this,” she continues, “is also you being fired.”

  The moment fired rolls off her tongue, Trevor places both his hands on top of Sienna’s head and groans. A fraction of a second later and his cock blasts a thick rope of cum straight into her face.

  Okay, think, Cara.

  What would a strong woman do? What would a woman in one of Abby’s books do? Grab a fire poker and break Trevor’s dick in half? No, I can’t stand the sight of blood. Livestream all this onto Facebook and show the world who they truly are? No, I’d die of embarrassment.

  What if I kick him in the balls and slap the shit out of her? Oh, and what if I set fire to her whole office? No more ARCs to worry about then. Maybe I’ll just throw their clothes out the window ... or maybe I can throw them out the window.

  No, I need something. Something else, something...

  Oh, yes. This is it. Evil, refined, and definitely the kind of punishment Sienna won’t forget about.

  Gritting my teeth, I cross the room in two wide strides, closing the distance between me and Sienna. Trevor takes one step back, visibly afraid of what I might do, but Sienna simply stands up slowly, beads of cum dripping down her face.

  “Why?” I ask her, but she just shrugs at me.

  “PAs are a dime a dozen, Cara. And I always hated how you’re always reading that stuff from Naughty Angel. You’ve been acting like a little bitch, and I’m pretty sure you’re the one who has been fucking up my ARCs. You want Naughty Angel to succeed so much that you're willing to fuck me over. Consider this payback,” she laughs, wiping the cum off her lips with the back of her hand. “Now get the fuck out of my office and —”

  I don’t even let her finish. I just take one hand to my mouth, push the chewing gum to my teeth and spit it out onto the open palm of my hand. “Here,” I growl, my hand flying straight into her hair, “consider this my resignation letter.”

  I feel the chewing gum sticking right to her scalp, and I almost feel bad for her. But then again, Sienna is the last person on Earth I could feel sorry about right now. Besides, every girl loves a trip to the hairdresser; she’ll just have to schedule hers earlier. As in this morning.

  I can’t help but grin as I watch her eyes widen in pure shock, and I take a step back as she runs her fingers through her hair and realizes what I just did. Her precious long hair just had a close encounter with a disgruntled personal assistant. Word of advice: never fuck with a PA.

  “I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!” She yells, jumping toward me with her arms stretched out. Reacting fast, I simply sidestep her, and she runs right into Trevor. He tries to hold her, but with his pants around his ankles, he falls off balance and trips on Sienna’s laptop cable, dragging the computer and everything on the desk to the floor. He falls on the floor like a block of concrete, pulling Sienna after him, and I just stare down at them.

  “Cara, please,” Trevor groans from under Sienna, reaching out for me with one hand. “I didn’t mean to —”

  Without even thinking, I lift one foot up and bring it down, stamping my heel right on the back of his hand. “You didn’t mean to, huh?" I ask him, looking down at him as Sienna tries to untangle herself from the laptop cable. “But you did. Now there’s only one thing you can do for me.”

  “What, Cara? What?”

  “You can fuck off,” I tell him and, with a smirk, I turn on my heels and leave.

  I’ve been a good girl all my life, and it’s always like this—cheating boyfriends, backstabbing assholes, and people stepping on you the moment they have the chance.

  I’m tired of being nice; I’m tired of playing by the rules. It’s high time I put a stop to all of that, kick all niceness to the curb, and start kicking some ass.

  I promise you: this isn’t a ride you’ll want to miss.

  Just grab my hand and come with me.

  Derek

  "Hey, Mr. Mixologist," the woman says, snapping her fingers in the air. "Over here. Do you see me?"

  If its one thing I hate it's customer's calling me over like a dog. And what is up with everyone using the word 'mixologist' these days? Standing here, behind this bar, slinging drinks, I'm a fucking bartender.

  I'm tending this bar. I'm serving drinks.

  I'm not some arm-garter wearing, handlebar mustache sporting elixir mixer.

  It's simple: I like my liquor brown, and I like my beer cold.

  I don't need every cocktail infused with some fancy herbs.

  Let's just say that a mixologist is the kind of person who doesn't get invited to parties.

  But I swallow my irritation like a barbed pill and try to smile.

  "What can I get for you?"

  She looks me up and down and says, "A dirty martini … extra dirty."

  There's a glazed look in her eyes, and despite it only being a little after noon, I gather that she's drunk. Her lips are now turned up into a smile, and I realize that it mirrors the upturned shape of her nose.

  Her words come out with a purr, and her eyes are searching my body. They move from my eyes, to my chest, and then down to my belt.

  "You look familiar; where do I know you from?"

  I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

  It isn't the first time I've seen a woman eye me like that. When I'm not tending a bar, I'm selling studio shots of myself for $600 a piece to be placed on book covers. Some women recognize me fr
om those covers, but I don't play it up. It doesn't make me rich, but it's not a bad life either.

  I place ice in a shaker, and pull out a frozen martini glass.

  "Do you have any extra olives back there?" the woman asks, leaning over and smashing her breasts against the bar.

  "Sure," I say, keeping my eyes focused on the cocktail shaker and adding vodka, vermouth, and olive juice. "How many?

  "They're free, aren't they?"

  "I can give you a few."

  "Give me as many as you can," she smiles. "That's why the Mediterranean diet is so good for you … it's all of those damn olives."

  I shrug my shoulders and strain the cocktail into the glass.

  "Here you go," I say, placing the martini in front of her. "And here are some extra olives."

  She seems satisfied.

  I wipe my hands on the bar towel slung over my back pocket, and I go back to organizing liquor bottles and replacing glasses. It's a slow day, but it's still early. It'll probably pick up later.

  I'm wiping a pint glass and getting ready to set it down on the counter when a woman bursts into the bar.

  As soon as I recognize the woman, my heart seems to freeze.

  It's not any woman. It's Cara.

  If there's ever been a more perfect woman, I dare you to find one because I've never seen one.

  I've had a thing for Cara since the moment I first laid eyes on her. But she's always had a boyfriend, and I'm not the home wrecking type.

  "Oh thank God," she says, "You're here."

  She looks frantic. She throws her purse on a stool, and I notice a tremble in her hand.

  "Is everything okay? Hard day at the office?"

  "You have no idea. I mean, look at me!" she says. "I'm still shaking like a leaf."

  "Sit down," I say, motioning to the empty barstool. "And talk to me. Let me grab you a drink. It's on me."

  "Thanks, I could use one," she says. "No, scratch that. Make it a double."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "It's Sienna and … Trevor." Her voice seems to hitch at the mention of her boyfriend. "They've been fucking behind my back."

  As she says this, a tear zigzags down her cheek.

  I slam an empty glass down on the bar.

  "What?" I say, feeling a new anger burn at the edges of my mind. "What an asshole. That guy doesn't deserve a woman like you. I'm ready to go put my fist through his mouth. Is he at Sienna's office? I swear, I'm gonna go find that guy right now."

  I start pulling my car keys from my pocket, but Cara stops me.

  No, Derek, please," she says. "Could you please just stay with me? I need you."

  Her eyes are so soft. So tender. And so … broken.

  It hurts me to see her like this. It feels like someone's pushing a white-hot poker into my chest.

  How could Trevor fuck her over this bad?

  "Look," I say, slowly placing my hand on top of hers. "I don't want to take advantage of your fragile emotional state."

  Cara laughs and wipes a tear from her eye. "I'm anything but fragile."

  "But," I continue, "by Trevor cheating on you, and getting you out of a bad relationship, he did you a favor. That's just what you needed, you know?"

  She thinks about this. "You're right," she says. "Now I get to do what I've always wanted to do."

  She says this with a smile, as if she's holding something back.

  But I don't want to prod her further, and I return the smile, sliding a cocktail across the bar.

  "Here, try this."

  "It's practically neon green," she laughs. "It looks like nuclear waste. What is this stuff?"

  "It's a Mountain Dew Me."

  She laughs and then pauses for a moment, looking me up and down, and then grins. "Do you, huh?"

  "Sure," I say, leaning closer to her over the bar. I didn't expect her to play along so quickly, but now that she is, I'm all in. "You know … I can make you forget Trevor faster than a 16-digit password."

  Her gold earrings catch a sliver of sun and cast a heart-shaped pattern of light on her neck. I want nothing more than to press my lips over that spot.

  "What did you mean earlier when you said that I now get to do what I want to do?" I ask.

  She doesn't answer me, and instead takes a sip of the drink that I made her. As soon as she swallows, she looks up at me, and motions for me to come closer with her finger. I lean in, and as soon as I do, she presses her lips to mine.

  I feel my entire body flush with desire. Even my cock twitches.

  Then she pulls back and smiles. "That's what I meant."

  Cara

  The Mountain Dew Me is on the counter forgotten. Derek grabs my hand and pulls me toward the back of the bar. I’ll be honest—after that delicious kiss, I don’t really try to stop him. By the time he opens the door to the office in the back, away from the main room of the bar, there’s only one thing dominating my mind: sex. There’s something about him that tells me I’m in for quite a ride …

  I step inside the office, and the moment I hear the door closing behind us I’m on him. I turn on my heels and press my mouth against his. Our lips touch and my soul starts to boil. It’s all it takes really—one taste of the Devil’s lips and I know I’m damned. Whatever he wants to do to me, I’m his.

  I can almost thank Trevor and Sienna for what they did to me. Being here with Derek is worth any pain or anger. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, and now that I’m finally free to do it…

  I part my lips slightly, my tongue reaching for his and dancing in slow soft circles around it. His hands are on my waist, his long fingers firmly planted on my hips. We kiss in abandonment, my fingers running through his hair and disheveling it as my heart beats faster and faster. I let my hands fall down to the side of his face and I trace the hard lines of his jaw, the warmness on his skin calling to me.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he suddenly says, taking one hand to my neck and yanking on my hair, forcing my head back. I open my eyes, locking them on his, and I stop breathing for a whole second as he continues. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even know your name when we’re done.”

  Each word that leaves his lips is like opium, traveling from my ears to my brain and drowning it in numbness. I try to think of an appropriate response, but all I can do is mouth an anxious “yes.” He takes one step forward, pushing me back and pinning me against the wall. My heart is drumming so hard I half-expect it to claw its way out of my chest anytime now.

  “I own you. Right now, you’re mine,” he says, leaning in and whispering in my ear, his full lips brushing against my skin. My heart rises and falls at a hurried pace, my lungs working overtime as his eyes seem to devour me. Impatient with my silence, he yanks harder on my hair, his lips turning into a hard line. “Say it.”

  I’ve never expected this from him. Despite that glint in his eyes, that devilish smile of desire on his lips, Derek was always a perfect gentleman toward me. I guess that, just like me, he had been dreaming of this for a long time. With his hard eyes locked on mine, I find my brain shutting down, my unconscious hidden thoughts crawling out of their cages.

  “I’m yours,” I find myself saying, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

  “You are,” he grins, the way his lips curl upward makes him look even more beautiful. “And you’ll do everything I tell you to.”

  “I will do everything you tell me to,” I repeat, my mouth turning dry. Of course, as my mouth goes dry, my pussy becomes wetter than it has ever been—maybe there’s some correlation there.

  Still with one hand on my hair, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress, the tip of his fingers brushing against the naked skin above my right knee. I feel my skin prickling as his fingers hike up my leg, gently lifting the dress in the process. The closer he gets to my pussy, the wetter I become, a wildfire of desire spreading inside of me. I almost reach for his wrist and force his hand against my pussy, but I’m so entranced by his touch I simply stand still, th
e perfect victim to his teasing.

  Unblinking, I stare into his eyes as his fingers close in on my pussy, my insides burning with anticipation. But instead of simply going for it, he simply traces the contour of my thong with his index finger, going back and forth over pussy lips without actually touching my pussy. Guided by unconscious desire, I find myself bucking my hips at him, aching to feel his hand on me. The moment I do it, he takes his hand out from under my dress and yanks on my hair again.

  “Stand still,” he tells me, deviousness flickering in his eyes. I nod, pursing my lips and trying to ignore my own instincts. Stand still, I repeat to myself, the words echoing inside my head. In an instant, his hand is under my dress again, his index finger gently running along the place where fabric and skin meet. He goes like that for what seems like an eternity, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute. It’s easy to lose track of time when you’re so wet your juices have soaked your thong completely. Then he finally turns his wrist and flattens the palm of his hand over the front of my thong. I can’t help but gasp as I succumb to the pressure of his fingers on my pussy. I throw my head back and close my eyes, a sweet numbness embracing every single one of my nerve endings.

  Derek starts rubbing my pussy softly, his fingers pressed tight over my wetness. A purred moan leaves my lips as he does it, the whole world fading away around me. With a flick of his fingers he pulls my thong to the side and brushes one fingertip over my pussy, his touch making my brain almost explode.

  “You’re so wet,” he says, his finger going back and forth over my drenched lips. “I love it.”

  “Please,” I mutter, not even understanding what I’m asking for. I want him to slide his finger deep inside of me, I want to feel his cock pushing past my inner lips and lodging itself inside my pussy. I want it all, and I want it right now.

  Before I can even react, he parts my inner lips and slides his finger in, moving it inside me like a hook and pressing his fingertip in that sweet hidden spot. I moan again, this time louder, and he presses harder against my G-spot. I swear to God, I’m so delirious with desire I have no idea how I’m managing to stand still.