Under My Boss's Desk: Office Romance Collection with New Novella (Under Him Book 4)

by Jamie Knight

  As I sucked her succulent little tongue, I moved my hands ever so slowly inward to untie the belt of her kimono. The front fell open as the belt fell away. I ran my hand along her luscious young body from her cheek, down her neck, along her chest and between her tits, over her belly and across her smooth pelvis. I finally ended my sojourn on her tender girlhood. Her legs uncrossed and opened as I approached.

  The gasp was soft but distinct as I pressed against her, her sweet, pink pussy lips warm under my hand. She was already quite excited. Still, she was still pretty young and oh so very tight and would need a bit more relaxing before I tried anything too drastic.

  My mouth followed the path already traced by my hand. I kissed my way down to her pussy and planted warm, wet kisses on every inch of exposed skin from her forehead to her thighs. Finally working my way back up to the final destination, I moved my hand out of the way as I did so. I put it to another, better use, spreading her lips as I came in for the first lick.

  Carrie seemed to know what I was thinking and leaned back a little more, her hands still flat against the bed. Her legs opened even wider, giving me all the room, I might need to do whatever I might like to her tight little pussy. I was honored by her trust in me and made the first lick intentionally light and sensuous. It coaxed a deep, long moan, drawn up from somewhere in the depths of her soul.

  After several more long, lingering licks with the gentle flat of my tongue, bringing her to the very gates of joy, I started going a little faster, stroking her thighs as I did. Her breath quickened in kind, becoming gasps and moans of desperate pleasure that only got more intense the faster I went.

  Then as they turned into moans and wails of sheer ecstasy, I went in hard. I circled my tongue directly on her inner lips, hitting her hard little clit with each pass, working the inside of her tight little pussy with two fingers as I went.

  Finally, she relented and the orgasm that had been building within her for the last several minutes took wing, carrying messages of compliments and deepest thanks to the goddess of love and devotion. Her body trembled to a placid stillness as I smothered her pussy in light, loving kisses.

  Taking my perfect dream lover by the arms, I gently guided her back up into a sitting position. I carefully replaced her hands to their former position on the bed, which really was where I preferred them. With two fingers inside her up to the second knuckle, I unzipped my suit pants and unfurled my massive cock, relishing her expression of delighted surprise.

  She looked to me, pleading for permission. I nodded my ascent, sending her diving down on my swollen member, sucking enthusiastically using nothing but her mouth. She moaned softly as I continued to finger her, working within her silken folds, bringing her back to the rain-slicked precipice of pure, sounding joy.

  As I deftly massaged the inside of her beautiful pussy, the walls squeezing tighter all the time, she gently rocked her hips in time with my movements. It was something I hadn’t actually given permission for but decided to let slide. I didn’t object to it in any way and it seemed to give her so much joy.

  There was plenty of forewarning. The tremors started as tiny trembles rippling gently through her from shoulders to feet. The vibrations from her deep soulful moans made the blowjob even better as she continued to suck my cock as though my cum contained the secret to eternal life.

  We came in beautiful unity, Carrie underwing against me as I unloaded into her mouth, filling it up with cum which she happily swallowed down. She licked her lips to make sure she didn’t miss a single drop.

  Kissing her deep, to express our burning attraction in a physical way, I took her gently by the shoulders and guided her down on her back, her legs still open. Taking her lightly by the ankles, I planted her feet on the edges of the bed. Moving in closer, I then lifted her legs, so her ankles pressed against the tops of my shoulders. Her palms were still flat against the bed.

  Properly in position, I began to stroke the warm head of my cock against her sweet little cunt, making Carrie moan with joy. After a few moments of teasing that made her squirm with anticipation, I finally did what we had both wanted for so long. I slid my massive, throbbing cock into her tight little cunt. Carrie let out a moan as I did. My cock stimulated her clit so hard I thought for a second that she might be a virgin reacting to her first time.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck yes!” she gasped.

  I kept pushing in, making sure to pay attention for any signs of pain or discomfort, But I saw none. Carrie took my entire cock like a total trooper. I was so proud of her that I paused for a moment to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead before starting to move. As my cock stroked her sweet little pussy, hitting her clit and her g-spot at the same time, she almost screamed with orgasm.

  But that wouldn’t start until I started going faster. I worked my way up bit by bit until I was fucking her at a steady, moderate rhythm. I dared not go any harder for fear of hurting her.

  “H-h-harder,” she managed to gasp between ecstatic screams.

  Taking her gently by the ankles, I pushed her legs back, so her feet were pointed up towards the ceiling. I used the extra leverage to go even harder. Pounding my cock deep inside her, my balls tapped against her sweet ass as her wails filled the room and I filled her up with my massive load.

  Chapter Three - Max

  The grumbles were low but persistent. My stomach protested its empty state.

  It would clearly not relent until the situation was rectified. The fates smiled however and one of Manhattan’s dozens of pizza places came into view. I was more of a donair guy, but I wasn’t sure about the location of the nearest Greek place and time was of the essence.

  I wasn’t surprised at the rebellion. I hadn’t even touched my sandwich back at Ariba and wasn’t about to go back for it. Carrie was able to wound me more with a look than she ever could with a knife.

  My heart went to her as completely as possible. Not that I dared to say anything. She was still my employee and there were certain appearances to keep. The company was still growing and there were potential clients who might not look kindly on an intra-office dalliance, especially between a boss and assistant. The power dynamics were just drought with trouble. Not that I was really thinking about that.

  As far as I was concerned, we were just two people who happened to work in the same building. It wasn’t like I was going to fire her for not being with me. What was more, I was almost certain, at least as certain as it was possible to be, that she knew that. Of all the words used to describe my management style, ‘petty’ was not among them. Neither was ‘exploitative.’

  The most common descriptor that I was aware of came down basically to ‘tough but fair.’ I could be demanding and expected the best out of my employees and all of us, I hoped, were working toward the same goal of growing MP Solutions into one of the top insurance companies in the country. I was never vindictive or mean and did my best to recognize and reward good work. But what I felt for Carrie fell well outside of even that.

  Slice in hand, I hopped back in my car and with Offspring’s “Nitro” blasting on the sound-system, I drove like a more cautious Batman. I Avoided the main roads as much as possible, nearly ending up on the Brooklyn bridge at one point but getting stuck in a lunch hour traffic jam was the last thing I needed.

  The Atrium, despite the name, was built in the 19th century. It was an imitation of the Crystal Palace in London. Reaching to the sky like a crystal obelisk, it was difficult to miss and visible from several blocks away. New York City blocks were, like most things in the city, both bigger and smaller than everything else in the country.

  The building designs were not the only element bearing the mark of colonial parentage in America’s grand city. The influences went right down to the design of the city. Much like London, New York was comprised of smaller parts stitched together into an official whole. Official because a good deal of localization was still holding strong. The ‘sides’ of Manhattan function much the same way
as the districts of London. Never mind the other boroughs, particularly the older ones like Brooklyn and Staten Island.

  They may have the same mayor but might as well be separate cities unto themselves. The expansionist spirit was still alive and well in the New World.

  Signing in at the security desk, it was onward and upward on the state-of-the-art silent elevators. They were a later addition to the original design. Much of the original material was still intact. Not all the walls were glass, which would have certainly been interesting but a bit too risky even back when it first went up.

  The crystalline appearance from the outside was achieved by what amounted to wall-sized windows instead in place of the more traditional exterior walls. The interior of the glorious structure was mostly white marble. It was only one floor, so the stairs were more than usable. But I had heard so much about the elevators that I just had to give them a try, like a kid seeing an amusement park ride for the first time.

  The numbering system was something quite interesting. For starters, the designers of the atrium had been traditionalists, using Roman numerals as opposed to the traditional Arabic numeral system. That made things really fun once you got up past fifty, which happened with surprising speed.

  “Max, in here, buddy,” Mitch said, popping his head out into the hallway as I breezed right past the door.

  The meeting room was small but still big enough for our purposes. I really wanted to let our work speak for itself. We had gone through enough to get it. Mitch was more the sales guy anyway. Not in a sleazy or oily way. He could always just find the very best way of presenting. He was the ultimate optimist, really.

  His mostly positive attribute could get a bit creepy once you’ve seen it literally applied to a plane crash. Mitch went into full spin-control when a nascent airline we were covering started having trouble with mechanical air. They tended to drop before really lifting off too high so one really got hurt, but still, it looked pretty bad. In swooped Captain Charm and fixed everything right up.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked, noticing Mitch didn’t seem his usual bouncy self.

  “Yeah, just a bit tired is all.”

  “Just don’t fall asleep during the presentation and we'll be fine.”

  “I do my best, but since you are also going to be talking, I make no promises.”

  “Smart-ass,” I smiled.

  “Nerd.”

  “Fair,” I said with a quick nod of agreement.

  Ulysses Whitman was a walking stereotype. Three hundred pounds of good ol’ boy in a five-seven frame, stuffed into a distinctly Western suit accentuated by hand-tooled cowboy boots. The black cowboy hat with a bull skull hatband was the cherry on top of the absurdity sundae. Mitch and I cast each other a glance as he came in and sat down across from us at the conference table.

  “Whoo-ee, ah haven’t had exercise like that since mah last cattle ropin’!”

  “Took the stairs?” Mitch asked, before I could.

  “Naw, but that there hallway sure is dang long!”

  I couldn’t argue with him there. It was a bit of a hike from the elevator to the conference room. Particularly if you happened to miss it the first time and did a full rotation of the floor before ending up back up at the elevator.

  The reappearance of the shiny metal doors was the final proof that things had really gone pear-shaped, a summation of the nagging sense that the numbers on the doors started looking wrong a while ago. It was like walking an endless hall in a dream.

  “Well, take a breather, Mr. Whitman. We have all the time you need,” Mitch said, pouring on the charm as well as he could in his condition.

  “T’ank yah, m’boy.”

  When Whitman had rediscovered the miracle of air and his face went from a noticeable red back to a color in no way resembling that of a boiled lobster, we got down to business.

  “Ah’m gonna get right to it,” Whitmans said, recovering enough to take control of things. “Y’all have a dang impressive client list. Especially considerin’ how young y’all are. Ah’ve been lookin’ for a good insurance firm for a while. A group of folk who can take the big pile of cash ah already got and protect it till it can get even bigger.”

  “We’ve certainly got experience there,” I said, saving Mitch the effort.

  “That ya do. Ah mean, why else would White & White be with y’all? Even as lawyers ya don’t get to billionaire status without doin’ somethin’ right, right?”

  “Right,” Mitch and I chorused.

  “Specially considerin’ their reputation for philanthropy.”

  “They can be quite generous,” I agreed, mostly because it was true. Mitch was the ass-kisser out of the two of us.

  “Very generous, indeed,” Whitman pondered.

  It was a bit of a leap, but I hoped that maybe his predictive rumination might have been an insight into what he was thinking in terms of our deal.

  “Ah’ve never been one to put all mah eggs in one basket, temptin’ as that might be. How about we start with $500,000 worth and see how that goes? If y’all do good, I’ll think about havin’ you boys cover the lot.”

  “Sounds absolutely perfect,” Mitch said, managing one of his usual 500-watt grins.

  I always thought he looked ridiculous when he did that, but the clients seemed to like it. Whitman was no exception. The problem was clearly with me. There were many times a day when I wished I could just be happy. The burden of that knowledge often got to be oppressive. Then I caught a few seconds of reality TV and have my appreciation for my lot in life instantly restored.

  She was still there. Waiting patiently as I came out of the meeting. Smiling sweetly as I drove home, trying to beat the rush hour traffic, when I parked in my assigned spot outside my townhouse. She wasn’t in the kimono anymore. Or my bedroom. Nothing fancy like that.

  We were nowhere but the fields of my mind and she wore nothing at all. Her wonderful tits were out in their full glory. Her tight little pussy was already glistening with excitement.

  I desperately got my pants off, my rock-hard cock jumping out into the open air as though it was spring-loaded. Unable to get to the bedroom, I settled onto the couch, pulling my pants and jacket off on the way.

  I never wore a tie, so it was one less thing to worry about.

  Carrie approached me in my mind. Getting on her knees between my feet, she gazed up at me with love and adoration. I stroked her soft cheek and my little darling nuzzled against my palm before gently sucking my thumb.

  Withdrawing my thumb gently, I slid my hand around to the back of her head, gently guiding her into my cock. Her mouth opened as she approached. I watched with pleasure as the bulk of my massive cock disappeared into her sweet little mouth. Always on the lookout for signs of discomfort or distress, I saw nothing but absolute, blissful pleasure.

  Carrie got right to work, stroking her soft, wet lips the length of my shaft and then back again. Soft, sexy throat sounds coming from her as she worked past her gag reflex to be able to deep throat my monster cock with grace and aplomb.

  Taking gentle hold of her ponytail, I controlled her movements, reaching down with my other hand and stroking her back as she sucked. Both of her hands were flat on her knees because I had yet to give her permission to do anything else.

  She looked up at me with her shining eyes. It was a look full of desire as well as love with just a touch of wonderment, like she couldn’t be so lucky as to be able to suck me off. It might sound like hubris, but it was a look I had seen before. Though not quite like that.

  I hadn’t exactly been a womanizer. Work had kept me effectively celibate since college, but before that I did okay. I wasn’t a man whore, but I had a couple of girlfriends. But nothing I felt then was anything like what I felt for sweet Carrie.

  That was an issue I attributed to myself more than anything else. Carrie was special to be sure. Though I had also become emotionally mature enough to recognize that. Otherwise, I might have just seen her as just another piece of ass.


  Again, an attitude which had been entirely my problem. I often thought that if I ever had access to a time machine, the first thing I would do, even before killing Hitler in 1918 during the war so no one would notice, was go to my younger self and smack him upside the head.

  The cum flowed freely, thick and warm, presumably also sweet judging by the look Carrie had on her face as she swallowed it all down. She all but swished it around in her mouth like a professional wine taster. I pulled slowly out of her mouth and she collapsed against me, panting and laying her cheek against my thigh.

  I scooped her up into my powerful arms and conveyed her over to the bed which had appeared out of the ether, much like the couch had. The space of my imagination was as mutable as anything.

  We kissed tenderly. Soft wet smacks filled the air, broken only by the silence that came when we started using our tongues. The lovely, playful dance of them made both of us hum with glee.

  Kissing my way down her beautiful body, I gently spread her legs. My sweet Carrie moaned with the sensation as the cool air touched her aching little cunt. She jumped and gasped at the first gentle stroke with the flat of my thumb. Realizing an even softer approach would be needed to ease her into things, I sank to my knees between her creamy thighs, keeping my hand cupped lightly on her warm, tender pussy as I did so.

  Moving my hand gradually out of the way, I lead in with a long, loving lick. Covering almost all of her lips from bottom to top, I gave her clit a little swirl when I finally got up there. She jerked and writhed and moaned to the heavens, making it clear how much she enjoyed what I was doing to her tight, pink girlhood.

  Her exclamations only grew more vigorous as I parted her succulent lips and did the same to the inside of her soaking, tender, open, pussy. Shudders ran through her like a freight train on loose track.

  Moans vibrated up from her like she was sitting on a malfunctioning washing machine on the spin cycle. She finally exploded in a massive orgasm that arched her back like she was in desperate need of an exorcism before crashing back down onto the bed so hard the spring squeaked.