Naughty Nelle

by L'Amour, Nelle

  “It’s down the hall on the right,” I replied as I sized him up. Nah. For sure this little nerd wasn’t one of mine. From my research on genetics, one could only be a redhead if both parents had the genes in their ancestry. Not one ginger existed on either my mother’s or father’s side of the family.

  “Could you please show me?” His voice grew smaller. More watery.

  “Fine.” I mentally rolled my eyes. I had better things to do. Reluctantly, I stood up from my desk and strolled over to the youngster who didn’t budge. As I neared him, he paled and clutched his stomach.

  “What’s the matter?”

  The boy’s mouth opened wide as if to say something, but instead a loud BLEGH! dislodged from his throat.

  The sound shot through my ears as a spray of hot molten lava with chunky bits splattered across my T-Shirt.

  Jesus!

  BLEGH! Another round of projectile vomiting, this time hitting me below the belt. All over my crotch.

  Christ!

  The kid began to cry. I’m talking big fat ugly tears that rolled down his face from under his glasses. “I want my mommy.”

  Shit! With his freckled face now the shade of puke green, he looked like he might barf again. Parents shouldn’t be allowed to bring their kids to work. When I became President of this company, this day was going to be eliminated once and for all. Covered in vomit, I inhaled deeply and regretted doing so as the odiferous smell drifted up my nose. I began to feel nauseated myself. Crap. What was I going to do? A new voice distracted me. It was soft and raspy, innocent and sexy at the same time.

  “Hi, I’m Deandra. But you can call me Dee.”

  My gaze shifted to the doorway of my office. At the threshold, stood a shapely brunette wearing a gray fitted skirt, sensible black pumps, and a cropped red sweater over an ivory blouse. Her lustrous chestnut hair was swept up in a ponytail, showcasing her flawless complexion, doe-like brown eyes, full upturned lips, and cute as a button nose.

  “Are you his mother?” I yelled out above the wails of the child. Get him out of here.

  “Oh, dear!” exclaimed the attractive, twenty-something woman, taking notice of the disastrous situation.

  The kid’s sobs grew louder and he cried out again for his mommy. Obviously and unfortunately, this woman bore no relationship to him.

  “Who are you?” I asked as she hurried toward us.

  Keeping my eyes on her curvy body, I watched as she took the hysterical kid into her arms. “You poor baby.”

  You poor baby? Hello! What about me? I was the one who’d taken a barf bath.

  Stroking the boy’s copper curls, she made eye contact with me. “I’m your new assistant. The temp.”

  Her words sunk in. I’d totally forgotten that my regular, soon-to-retire assistant, Mona, had taken her overdue vacation time to visit her daughter, who’d given birth two weeks early. She would be away for at least three weeks, and always efficient, no matter what the circumstances, she’d managed to arrange for someone to fill in for her until she returned.

  I met my new assistant’s chocolate orbs. “Okay, then start by getting this kid the hell out of my office and find me something I can use to clean myself up.” I was unable to look down at the damage and the stench was really getting to me.

  “Sure,” she replied with a small dimpled smile. Even in my distressed state, I had to admit this girl was cute. One hot little number. My eyes stayed on her as she escorted the kid, whose crying had subsided, out of my office, one arm wrapped around him in a motherly way. My gaze traveled down her taut body, spending way too much time on her spectacular heart-shaped ass and shapely calves.

  I stayed in one spot awaiting her return, decorated with revolting chunky bits. Growing more and more nauseated and disgusted, I grew impatient. Where the fuck did she go? Five long, wretched minutes later, she reappeared, holding a thick stack of paper towels and a glass of sudsy water.

  “I found his mother,” she beamed as she approached me. “Everything’s good. She’s taking him home.”

  “Good,” I mumbled, watching her soak a wad of the paper towels with the soapy liquid. “What are you doing?”

  “Stand still. I’m going to try to clean up this mess.”

  “Hurry! I’ve got a presentation in an hour.”

  I stood as still as I could as she began to vigorously wipe the chunky bits off my T-shirt. Bit my bit, they disappeared, but the horrific smell lingered. “Work on my jeans now.”

  The disgusting red chunky bits (what the fuck did that kid eat for breakfast? Dog food?) were clustered around my fly with a few scattered down the legs of my jeans. After tossing the wet towels she used for my T-shirt onto the floor, she moistened another bunch and began to scrub my crotch with small, vigorous strokes.

  “Jesus,” I moaned.

  Still working, she gazed up at me. “Am I hurting you?”

  My muscles clenched as I felt my cock swelling beneath the denim. Holy shit. She was giving me a fucking hard-on.

  “Rub harder,” I gritted through my teeth.

  At my command, her strokes grew faster and more forceful. I hissed. Christ. Didn’t she know what she was doing to me?

  “Don’t stop,” I breathed out, feeling the makings of a volcanic eruption between my thighs. I was so close to coming…about to cream my pants and scream out in relief. And then on her next stroke, I did, cursing under my breath, just as she stopped her ministrations.

  “I’m sorry. This isn’t working,” she said, frustration in her voice. Oh, it worked just fine. If she knew I’d just had a full-on orgasm, she didn’t show it. In fact, she probably thought I was yelling at her.

  She examined her handiwork, no pun intended. “I’ve gotten most of the puke off, but I can’t get rid of the smell.”

  I looked down at myself. Nope. This wasn’t good. My Danger Rangers T-shirt was soaked and stained, and it looked like I’d taken a leak in my pants. And she was right. The horrible odor was palpable.

  I dug my hand into a pocket and retrieved my cardholder, pulling out my Visa. Still feeling a hot, tingly sensation between my legs, I handed it to her.

  “Listen, I need you to run to the Galleria and pick up a new pair of jeans and a T-Shirt. There’s a Bloomingdale’s there…they should have what I need.”

  “What size are you?” Her eyes roamed down my body, staying a little too long where they shouldn’t have.

  For a minute, my mind jumped to my cock. Big, very big! I bit down on my tongue and answered, “I wear a Size Large T-shirt and a 32 in jeans.” And silently I added, “While you’re there, pick up some Calvin Klein briefs. The ones with extra support.”

  Without wasting a second, she flew out of my office.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dee

  Less than five minutes on the job, I was out the door, shopping for my new boss. All I knew from Human Resources was that his name was Drake Hanson and he was the Head of Development for Hanson Entertainment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was connected to someone who owned this animation company. And therefore some kind of big shot. After filling out the necessary paperwork, I was immediately escorted to his office.

  Well, I certainly didn’t expect my day to start off as it did, I thought to myself as I drove back to the office in what I was learning was typical LA traffic. Coming from a small town outside of Fresno, I still hadn’t gotten used to the hustle bustle and it totally freaked me out. LA drivers were ruthless and I was surprised I hadn’t already gotten into an accident.

  My new boss wasn’t going to be happy when I got back. New to LA, I didn’t even know what or where the Galleria was. Googling my cell phone, I learned it was a mall in Glendale near Hanson Entertainment and then used my GPS app to find the fastest route via the Ventura Freeway. I got there in ten minutes…except the exit was closed off, and when I got off on the next one, I totally got lost and somehow ended up in Pasadena.

  As I crawled along the freeway in my beat-up Ford pickup truck, my new bo
ss occupied my mind. I could tell he was bossy and somewhat of a jerk. And the man seemed to hate kids, which was pretty ironic since he made kids’ cartoons. I was familiar with most of them.

  But one thing for sure, he was gorgeous. Sinfully gorgeous. My sister had told me that hot guys were a dime a dozen in LA, and yes, I’d seen a lot of cuties, but none compared with this man. His eyes were the bluest blue and could hold you prisoner while his body was pure manly perfection. He was the perfect height—probably just over six feet—with broad shoulders that gave way to chiseled biceps and ripples in just the right places that showed he must work out. And then there was that incredible thick length between his long, athletic legs. Holy shit! My breath hitched in my throat as I relived it growing hard beneath my palm as I tried to wipe his crotch clean. I could actually feel it pulsating against my hand and I swear he got off on me. How was I going to work for this sex god? Okay, it was just a temporary job for a few weeks until his regular assistant returned. But still.

  Suddenly, a car on the right pulled in front of me. I slammed down on the brakes and cursed. A new reality set in: why was I worrying? I was probably going to get fired for taking so long or I was going to die in a car accident. Catching my breath and returning my full attention to the road, I prayed the latter wouldn’t happen. I had something far more important than myself to live for.

  CHAPTER 3

  Drake

  Where the hell was she? Dee…I think that’s what her name was. I was lousy at remembering names. Always in one ear and out the other. It could have something to do with my selective hearing.

  The Galleria was only a short ten minutes away, but she’d been gone for almost an hour. A disturbing thought knocked at the door to my brain. Maybe she wasn’t coming back. I mean, I’m sure I didn’t make a very favorable impression on her. In fact, I probably scared the shit out of her. The minute she stepped foot in my office, I yelled at her and demanded she clean that crap off me from that damn kid.

  Okay, that was bad enough—I don’t know how she was able to tolerate the smell or even look at the gross vomit—but that was nothing compared to the fact that I practically came in her hand. And I was still feeling the aftermath of the orgasm shooting through my balls.

  Seriously, how goddamn embarrassing! I can’t believe she didn’t react. There’s no way she didn’t feel my cock expand then grow as hard as a rock and feel my spasms as I blew my load. Seated behind my desk, now bare-chested and minus my jeans, I stared down at my package. Impulsively, I put my hand on it. The fabric of my briefs was still damp from my release and my cock was still enlarged and warm. The image of that girl with her dimpled smile flashed into my head and a surge of desire spilled through my blood.

  Okay, this girl wasn’t exactly my type. She was dark-haired and curvy when I preferred tall, willowy blondes, but there was something so fresh and sexy about her. It was like Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm had grown up and was milking the hell out of me. The bottom line, she turned me on like a light bulb. The temperature in the room had risen at least ten degrees. Maybe more.

  Now acutely aware of the air conditioning blowing on me, I returned my attention to my computer screen. My door was locked shut because I sure didn’t want another brat disturbing me and I sure as hell didn’t want anyone from the company to see me almost butt naked. I glanced at the time. It was almost ten o’clock…the Bring Your Kids to Work Day breakfast was about to end and I was expected to give a thirty-minute presentation about our company—an overview—to the kids in our state-of-the-art screening room. Following the presentation, the kids would break into groups and visit various employees and departments, including our character designers, computer animators, editors, and our in-house recording studio.

  My father hated tardiness. Moreover, Gunther Saxton, the German media mogul who was looking to buy our company, would be there observing me…to see if I was CEO material. Shit. What was I going to do? My eyes darted to the far right corner where I’d tossed my stinky, vomit-ridden T-shirt and jeans. There was no way I was putting them back on. And there was no way I was leaving my office. Damn that girl. I couldn’t even call her to find out what was going on since I didn’t have her cell phone number. I could only surmise she’d quit on me, giving new meaning to the word “temporary.” Raking my fingers through my hair, I blew out a loud frustrated breath. This day was going from bad to worse.

  A sudden loud knock at the door sounded in my ears. “Who’s there?” I shouted out. I just hoped it wasn’t my father. I didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter—to see me like this.

  “It’s me, Dee. I’ve got your things,” came a familiar voice from the other side.

  Phew! Finally, she was back. Without saying a word, I leapt up from my chair and sprinted over to the door. Before I could get to it, the door swung open and a loud gasp filled the air.

  CHAPTER 4

  Dee

  “Oh. My. God.” After saying the last word, my mouth stayed wide open in the shape of an “O.” A big “O.” I couldn’t get my legs to move or my eyes to blink. I just stood at the doorway, paralyzed, the large Bloomingdale’s shopping bag dangling from my hand while he barked at me.

  “Jesus. Just don’t stand there. Hurry in and close the door.”

  Holy moly! Standing before me was my new boss. The sex god, wearing nothing, but his boxer briefs. And there was nothing that stood between me and his Calvins. I could feel his heat as my eyes drank in his exquisitely sculpted body. He was spectacular with his clothes on, but even more breathtaking without them. Six-feet plus of pure manly perfection. Broad, sculpted shoulders…chiseled pecs…the six-pack of a male model…and powerful, muscular arms and legs dusted with a fine layer of dark hair. Oh, and that perfect pelvic V that drew my eyes to a bulge in his briefs that was far bigger than the one I imagined. Only one word came to mind—humongous. My eyes stayed glued on it. I was in state of shock. I should have waited for him to open the door. Maybe he was putting on some sort of cover-up. But stupid me used the office key Human Resources had given me and barged in. What was I thinking?

  “Hurry,” he repeated, his voice urgent. Not giving me time to respond, he grabbed me by my elbow and yanked me into his office, slamming the door behind us.

  Ruthlessly, he tore the shopping bag out of my hand. “Perfect,” he muttered, reaching inside for the T-shirt and jeans.

  “They only had ripped jeans in your size. True Religion. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Holding them up, he quirked a smile. God, it was dazzling, with two heart-shaped dimples that kissed his lush lips. My eyes stayed on him as he hastily stepped into the faded denim pants and pulled them up over his long legs before focusing on his groin as he zipped up his fly over his extraordinary endowment. My nerve endings buzzed with the whoosh of the zipper and I could feel my heart galloping. The sexy jeans fit him perfectly, hanging low on his hips, just below that those pelvic V lines and that happy trail grazing his lower abdomen. Wordlessly, I watched as he pulled the V-neck T-Shirt over his head and tucked it into his jeans, his mouthwatering biceps flexing as he did. God, he looked gorgeous. Swoon-worthy, may I say as my legs turned to Jell-O.

  “Good job,” he said as he pivoted to retrieve his shoes—a pair of red Nikes nearby on the floor. I felt myself flush with pride—and arousal—as I admired his delicious ass. Well, at least I wasn’t on his shit list. Or about to get fired.

  “What took you so long?” he snapped as he bent down to slip on the shoes.

  A lump formed in my throat as dread rolled through my stomach. Maybe I jumped to a conclusion too fast.

  “Well?” He looked up at me as he fiddled with the laces. “My presentation is in five minutes.”

  “Um, uh, I got lost.” I refrained from telling him that I also made a stop at the lingerie department to pick up a new pair of panties to replace my soaked ones.

  “Seriously? Everyone knows where the Galleria is.”

  My mouth twitched while words stayed trapped in my thro
at.

  “Dammit,” he shouted.

  I held my breath and prepared for the worse. I was getting the ax.

  “Get your ass…

  Out of here… GULP!

  “Over here and help me take out these damn knots.”

  Phew! I breathed out a sigh of relief and hurried over to him. Squatting down, I joined him, so close that our knees touched and his warm breath skimmed my cheeks. He yanked at a pair of the shoelaces and I could hear him curse again under his breath.

  “Stop it,” I reprimanded. “You’re making it worse.”

  “Oh, so now you’re an expert on knots?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Yes, I am. Now please let go.”

  Reluctantly, he removed his hands, setting them on his thighs, while I went to work. The honest-to-god truth, I was an expert when it came to knots. I’d undone countless ones, from the simplest to the toughest that often took hours. And I was great with gnarly hair knots and tangled necklace chains as well. It was all part of my other job requirements.

  Fortunately, Drake’s knots weren’t too bad. I felt his eyes on my hands as I maneuvered the balled-up laces, loosening and untangling them. It took patience and a fair amount of strategy. In no time, both knots were undone.

  “Wow, you’re really good,” remarked Drake with a smile.

  I returned the smile, though mine was fraught with smugness. “Let me tie your shoes for you the proper way so the laces won’t get undone or knotted up again.”

  “You’d make a really good mother.” Drake laughed.

  His laugh was naturally sexy. Deep and sexy. Hot tingles danced down my spine as I finished tying both shoes.

  Drake stood up, lifting me up with him. His hands curled around my upper arms while we stood face to face. His eyes burnt into mine.