Touch Me Boss: A Single Dad Office Romance

by Aria Ford

  Francesca gasped as he slid into her, he was warm and his cock was thick. She sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle the moans that escaped her. He pumped into her and groaned along with her at the sensation.

  He covered her mouth as he drilled into her, her orgasm found her quickly and she shuddered in his grasp. He dug his fingers into her soft flesh as he worked toward his release. Francesca threw her head back and clenched her pussy around him.

  He gave one final groan as he emptied himself in side of her and stood for a moment with his forehead pressed to hers.

  “Wow,” Francesca said. “That was amazing.”

  Adam chuckled and slipped out of her, completely spent. “It was,” he agreed. “The bathroom is down the hall if you need to freshen up.”

  Francesca gripped her thighs together to keep his fluids from running down her legs as she made her way to the bathroom. After she cleaned herself up, she splashed some cold water onto her face. She looked into the mirror over the sink and shook her head.

  Holy shit, I just fucked Adam Houston.

  Chapter 6

  The afternoon sun soaked into the asphalt and radiated heat in wavy fingers. Though fall was approaching, the city had been experiencing a run of sunny, warm days.

  Francesca handed over her debit card to the cashier at Smoothie Stop and tried to focus over all of the noise in the crowded store.

  Apparently, everyone else thought that it would be a great idea to grab a chunky mango smoothie today too, she thought, and she squeezed Sal’s elbow.

  “Hey, let’s take our shit outside. I can’t take it in here. I want you to be able to actually hear me when I tell you about Adam.”

  He smiled and accepted his vanilla bean coconut smoothie. He led them through the small glass doors and past the outside patio where a few ladies in light dresses enjoyed their smoothies. He winked at one, and Francesca swatted him on the arm. He cackled. “You had your chance, Francesca.”

  “Oh shut up, just focus. So, Adam has been reading my manuscript. I think he likes it.”

  An obnoxious sound came from Sal’s straw. “Okay. That’s great. So, you don’t have to sleep with him to get him to read it?”

  “No, I still slept with him. Well, straight up fucked him is more like it,” she said.

  They strolled toward a new bookstore, Literary Lake that Sal had been suggesting they go to for weeks.

  “You dirty little tramp,” he teased, playfully slapping her ass.

  “Shut up. It just sort of happened. Are you sure this place is open?”

  “Yeah. It’s just always kind of quiet like this. That’s why I like it.”

  They approached a heavy looking red door, with a brass handle. Through the square window panes, they could see a few people walking around, examining the spines of books.

  Sal yanked the door open and ushered her inside. “Seriously though, you really fucked him?”

  A few of the nearby patrons tossed curious glances in their direction and Francesca pulled him into an aisle by the sleeve. “Jesus Sal, just shout it out, why don’t you?”

  “Um, I think I just did,” he said, grinning at her.

  “I honestly didn’t intend to. Well, not last night anyway. I mean, I thought I’d at least see him a few times first but after a couple hours with him, I realized that I kind of like the guy. And the sex was hot.”

  They walked up to a towering bookshelf in the self-help section and Francesca sat down on the tan metal step stool.

  Sal crouched down and scanned a row of books. “That’s a hell of an age difference, though. But, do what you have to do, I guess. Alright, help me find a book on starting a business.”

  *****

  The next two months flew by and before they knew it, fall was giving way to winter. Francesca shook the dust off of her collection of sweaters and paired them with some of the new skirts she could afford.

  She had stopped trying to dress like a seasoned professor and opted for her original style. Today, she wore a red lace skirt and white sweater that Adam had complimented before. Since their date at the literary cafe, they had spent lunch hours together every day.

  Every day, she would walk down to his empty classroom and discuss anything from the dirty looks the janitorial staff always seemed to shoot their way to the new novelist that nudged Adam out of the number one spot on the bestselling list.

  She pushed open the door to his classroom and pulled up a chair to his desk but he wasn’t there. He must’ve gone to grab something from the cafeteria. Francesca shrugged and pulled out her lunch, a lettuce wrap with grilled chicken.

  She was only two bites into her lunch when she heard the clicking of heels coming down the steps from behind her. With her meal still in her mouth, she turned her head to see Ariana Scylla, the tall woman who had approached her on her first day. Francesca had finally learned her name from a board meeting that began with each professor introducing themselves.

  Ariana wore an emerald green pantsuit, and her heels were an intense black. Professor Scylla swiped her hair over her shoulder and nodded at Francesca. “Good afternoon, Professor Reynolds. I was looking for Professor Houston, have you seen him?”

  Francesca shook her head. “I haven’t. Maybe he’s in the restroom? Is there anything I can do for you?” Or are you trying to find a lunch period where I’m not around so that you can finally hit on him?

  Professor Scylla crinkled her nose. “No, I don’t think that you can. What did you need from him?”

  Francesca frowned. “I’m just having lunch in here- it’s better than eating it alone in my classroom.” Francesca had seen Ariana eating plenty of lunches alone.

  The other woman nodded; she glanced around the room and asked, “So, do you have lunch in here pretty often? Does Professor Houston need a lot of company?”

  Francesca shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that he needs a lot. We just enjoy talking about our work together.”

  “Oh! Are you coordinating lesson plans, then?”

  “No, Adam actually doesn’t follow a lesson plan. He teaches purely from experience. We just talk about the work that we do independent from Wright University.”

  Professor Scylla’s tone took on a heavier and much more accusatory sound. “And what is that independent work?”

  Francesca smirked. “I’m sorry, were you interested in joining us in writing? I suppose I could have thought to invite you.”

  The doors above them opened and Adam walked down the steps, nodding at Professor Scylla. “Good afternoon, Ariana! What can I do for you?”

  She dropped her interrogation of Francesca, and slid into much more pleasant skin. “Oh, I just wanted to know if you could pop in and speak to some of my students. I hadn’t had a chance to really pick your brain yet- I suppose some things have kept you busy-” she tossed an undecipherable look to Francesca.

  “If you like, you could come down the hall with me and plan it,” Ariana suggested.

  “Well, I normally have lunch with Professor Reynolds to discuss a project that she’s working on. How about Monday?”

  “Your lunches are so strict that you can’t possibly come down the hall until Monday?”

  Adam appeared to be taken aback. “Well, if it means that much to you, I’ll make it down there tomorrow. However, I’d like to enjoy my lunch hour now.”

  Professor Scylla seethed at being dismissed. She all but stomped back up the stairs and out of the classroom.

  Adam slid into his seat and pulled out a Tupperware container filled with some seafood pasta salad. He picked it at it, stirring it up to get the texture right before he turned his gaze to Francesca, who was already staring at him.

  “So, do you think that she wants to discuss a project the way that we discuss a project?”

  “You seem to think that I would if that was what she wanted,” he said, sprinkling some pepper onto his meal.

  Francesca took a large chomp out of her lettuce wrap. “She’s closer to your age,” she observed.
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  Adam set his pepper down and took her hand in his. “Do you think that you’re just something to pass my time? A perk to getting to read a new piece by a fresh author?”

  Francesca shrugged. “Honestly, Adam, I’m not really sure what I am to you. I know you’re pretty newly divorced; I thought maybe I was somewhat of a rebound.”

  He smiled at her and shook his head. “ There’s no one else, Francesca. I’m just waiting for you to come around and notice that.” He kissed her on both hands, and went back to his lunch.

  Chapter 7

  Ariana clenched her fists in rage, as she walked toward the dean’s office. Who does she think she is? So brazenly taking up all of his time, just flaunting their relationship about? She entered the reception area and Charlene, Dean Green’s receptionist , offered her a smile.

  “What can I help you with, Professor Scylla?”

  “Is Dean Green in? I’d like to have a chat with him about a staff concern.”

  Charlene turned to her computer screen, scanning the system for Dean Green’s schedule. “It looks like he does have a free hour right now. I can see if he’s willing to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, please do,” Ariana mumbled.

  Charlene picked up the phone and called into his office. “Mmhmm, yes, I understand that but Professor Scylla says it’s important. Some sort of staff issue. Okay.” She hung up the phone and gestured toward the door behind her desk.

  “Okay. You’re all clear. You have twenty minutes.”

  Ariana rolled her eyes as she opened the door to the Dean’s office. He was hunched over a bowl of cheap microwavable noodles and didn’t look up when she entered.

  “Have a seat, Ariana,” he said.

  She sat across from him and cleared her throat. “Dean Green, I’m concerned about the example that Professor Houston is setting for some of our staff.”

  He slurped on his noodles. “And what example would that be?”

  She shifted in her seat. “Well, I would hate for staff to think that we condone relationships that extend beyond a professional level between the staff.”

  He looked up at her then. “Who has an inappropriate relationship with Professor Houston?”

  “Well, Professor Reynolds and he insist on meeting up every lunch hour to discuss some non-work related project. They insist on being alone for it.”

  “You may be jumping to conclusions, Ariana. Maybe they’re going to present something together to both of their classes.”

  Ariana scoffed. “I’m not jumping to anything, sir. I think that they may have an inappropriate relationship and that something should be done. When I asked Professor Reynolds what their meetings entail, she was reluctant to tell me anything. Professor Houston insisted I leave once he returned to his office, maybe they were about to begin their rendezvous?”

  Dean Greene sighed and threw the empty noodle cup into the trash bin that sat just off of his desk. “Do you think that they’re engaging in this kind of activity on school grounds?” he asked.

  “There’s no way to tell for sure, but will you look into it?”

  He sighed and loosened his belt to allow his large belly to breathe. “Of course, Ariana.”

  ******************

  Adam locked the second set of doors and his classroom and sprinted down the steps. “Alright, let’s hurry. I have a group of thirty students in twenty minutes.”

  Francesca wore a devilish smile as she pulled down her panties and leaned over Adam’s desk. He approached her from behind and squeezed her thighs. He gripped her round ass, and gave it a squeeze, leaving imprints of his fingers in her flesh. She shivered and he chuckled. He licked two of his fingers and poked at the lips of her pussy.

  “Come on,” she whined, “Just put it in.”

  He gave her a harsh smack on the ass. “We’re in my classroom, Professor Reynolds. I’ll go as slow as I want.” He plunged his fingers inside of her and she squirmed. She spread her legs wider and moaned softly as he fingered her slick pussy. He made sure to graze her clit each time he pulled his fingers out. He pushed her skirt further up and nipped at her ass. He placed tiny kisses all around her inner thighs and ran his tongue along the outside of her aching cunt.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, as he parted her lips open with his tongue and allowed it to dance along her clit. Her hips bucked, wanting to ride his face. He grabbed her hips and steadied her. “You need to stop trying to control this, or I’m going to take longer,” he threatened.

  He released a sigh of contentment as he unbuckled his pants. His dick had been hard since she bent over, and he held it in his hands, ready to position it inside of her.

  She could feel the warm, wet tip of his cock grazing against her dripping slit and she gripped the desk for leverage.

  He slid into her and began to pound her pussy. His hips were powerful as they rammed into her and she put her fist in her mouth to conceal the noise. When she felt the walls of her channel start to tighten, she inhaled and caught the musky scent of sex that floated throughout the classroom.

  With a final thrust, his semen dribbled down her thighs. He sighed again and pulled out of her, handing her the box of Kleenex he kept on his desk. They took a moment to clean up and then looked at each other and giggled like high schoolers.

  Chapter 8

  Adam grimaced at the gaudy Christmas lights strung over the mantle in his apartment. It was his first time decorating a place for Christmas, as his ex-wife had always done it and it had always been so extravagant.

  Next year, I’ll go with a little less. He had over-decorated his place so that Francesca wouldn’t think that he was a soulless monster that hated festive fun.

  She was invited to his apartment for Christmas this year, if she and Sal weren’t going to booze it up and drunkenly exchange gift cards. He stretched out on the sofa and reclined with Francesca’s manuscript. The working title was Dream Catcher. It was about a woman that dreams of her long lost children that she can’t remember giving away due to a fatal accident.

  Not much of a hopeless romantic. But that suits her. Francesca was logical and refreshing. There was a small part of him that felt silly for the whole affair. He had barely been out of a seventeen-year marriage when they began seeing one another. Francesca had suggested that she may be a rebound relationship for him, and maybe it had started out that way, but it had truly blossomed into something else.

  And at least the book was good, and she hadn’t just vomited up what she thought sounded deep.

  It could sell, but not if we just throw it at the publishers.

  His phone sang a jaunty holiday tune and he smirked.

  Speak of the devil.

  He leaned over and his fingers barely grasped his phone on the glass table. Jesse’s face flashed across the screen and he felt a surge of both disappointment that it wasn’t Francesca, and happiness that it was his daughter. He touched the green ‘accept’ key.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dad! How’s your first Christmas in New York?”

  “It’s alright I guess, but I sure do miss you, sweetie. How have you been?”

  He could hear some shuffling in the back as she repositioned herself. “Sorry. Micah wants to walk all of a sudden; I was putting his leash on. So, you like New York?”

  “A lot, yes. I feel like the students in my classes are really benefiting from my lectures. Did you do the play?”

  “Yeah, I’m an extra in the ensemble for the mid-winter play. For the Christmas play, I’m the elf with the most singing parts.”

  Adam laughed with zeal. “That’s wonderful, baby. I wish I could get away to see it, but I’m insanely busy. I’m meeting a lot of writers here.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend yet?” she suddenly blurted. Her tone wasn’t accusatory or remotely hesitant.

  He decided to be honest with her. “Something like that, truthfully. She’s a writer. I like her a lot but I don’t know if she wants something serious.”

  He could hear her
Yorkshire Terrier yipping in the back. “Well, I miss you. You should come see us soon, bring your maybe girlfriend if you have to.”

  “Well, I was hoping that you would come to New York, maybe even look at some of the colleges.”

  Jesse squeaked. “I would love to! I’ll tell Mom, it’s going to be so much fun! Maybe I can meet your girlfriend.”

  “Maybe, sweetheart.”

  ******

  Adam slid his second glass of rum onto the coffee table. His limbs felt wobbly and loose. The manuscript was in his right hand, folded in half. After he had gotten off the phone with Jesse, he dove back into his reading. While he was ecstatic that Jesse had finally called without being prodded, hearing her voice had created a dull ache in his chest. He couldn’t resist the urge to try and drown the ache out with rum.

  He was entertained, at least. The climax of Francesca’s book had been electrifying and it was melting into a satisfying conclusion. He took his phone out of his pocket and selected her number from a list of most recent conversations.

  The phone rang five times before she picked up. “Yes?” Her tone was expectant.

  “I’m almost finished with your book.”

  He could hear her shuffling around in the back, probably sitting up. “Go on,” she said.

  “It’s good, really good. I have to say, a lot of people have asked me to read their stuff and I’ve just bitten my tongue and swallowed horrible writing for three hours of my life, but I’m actually entertained.”

  She was silent. “You don’t think the main character’s personality is awful?”

  “She’s uniquely terrible in some ways, and brilliant in others. However, she has been through a lot.”

  “She has! I hope the readers see it that way.”

  “Speaking of readers, I know that you wanted my opinion on your manuscript because I’m published, but I don’t think that I should just push this to someone at the publishing house.”

  “What? Why? Push it to them, I don’t care.”

  “That’s the thing; sure, your book could be in chain bookstores and in some libraries but that would be like shoving you down the reader’s throats. I think that there’s a smoother approach to this that we should take.”