Bridesmaid for Hire

by Carter, Chance

  She didn’t seem to mind coming in before the crack of dawn to cover the dozens of emails I’d have from my overseas correspondents. She didn’t bat an eye when I requested she stay late as I finished up calls from people across the world so she could organize my schedule for the next day. She had done an incredible job of making sure that no one got too ticked off at me for putting the rest of my life on hold to chase down this account.

  I often heard her on the phone, talking calmly but firmly to whomever was on the other end of the line and laying out the facts for them in that professional but aggressive tone that let them know that she understood their concerns but wasn’t going to give in to them, not for anyone.

  In fact, sometimes I found myself sitting there listening to her, glancing up at the ceiling and letting the smooth sound of her words wash over me like an incoming tide. It was so refreshing. Almost soothing.

  She would accompany me to meetings now, too. Not all of them, but it was useful to have someone there with me who was a little less sleep-deprived, someone who could fill me in on details I might have missed in my overworked state. She was there to offer me the information I needed in a competent, confident tone. I could have listened to it all day.

  Her contributions to the company were definitely not going unnoticed.

  “How long has she worked here now?” Neil asked, jerking his head toward Mona’s office, which was currently empty as I’d long-since sent her home.

  It was a Friday night, and though she’d offered to stay in as long as it took to get everything done, I’d practically chased her out with orders to get some rest and forget about office-related stuff for a few days. She had reluctantly left, making me promise to go home at a reasonable time that evening and not to spend the rest of the night refreshing my email to see if anything new had come in.

  “I think a couple of months or so?” I said, doing the math in my head. “Why?”

  “She’s…” Neil looked over at the office, as though she might walk out of it at any second. “She’s good, that’s all. Really good. I think she’s a major asset to the company.”

  “Yeah, she’s a pro,” I agreed, fondly, feeling a small swell of pride, even though her being hired here had nothing to do with me. “I’m glad to have her around. Keeps me on track when I feel like I’m getting buried under it all.”

  It had taken Neil a while to come around to the concept that I was going after the Masterson account, but in the last week, he finally agreed it seemed like the best course of action, especially when he saw how damned close I was to landing it for good.

  I could see that glow in his eyes. He had started coming down to my office more regularly for updates on how things were progressing. He was as excited as I was, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. This could be huge for us if we pulled it off. Enormous.

  “Yeah, you might need to slow down a little,” he remarked, but he he knew it was falling on deaf ears.

  I didn’t play those kinds of games. I was either all in or all out, and right now, there was nothing he could have done to yank me from the roll I had found myself on.

  “Good luck with that,” I said, grinning.

  Neil paused for a moment before he spoke again. I could see the cogs turning in his brain as he thought about the best way to phrase whatever it was he needed to get out.

  “What is it?” I demanded.

  “You’re spending a lot of time with her,” he replied. “Nothing’s happening, is it?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, a little too defensively.

  He raised his eyebrows at me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Seriously, Neil,” I said again, this time making sure to keep my attitude in check, so he didn’t have any reason to doubt me. “I know how it looks to you, but nothing like that is happening with us. You really think she’d look twice at someone like me?”

  “Yes,” he responded, bluntly, catching me off guard.

  I took a deep breath and continued.

  “I’m too busy right now to think about pursuing anything with anyone, let alone Mona,” I assured him. “Nothing’s happening, nothing’s going to, either. Is that good enough for you? She’s worked here for weeks now, and there hasn’t been a hint of anything. I don’t know what else I can do to convince you.”

  “Okay.” Neil eyed me again, suspicious. “Whatever you say.”

  “You want a drink?” I asked, changing the subject and turning to the small drinks table behind me. “I could sure use one.”

  “Hell, yes,” he agreed, and soon enough, the two of us were shooting the shit about our time in college, all talk of Mona forgotten.

  He left after one drink and a good hour of conversation, and I returned my attention to the screen in front of me, and paying no attention to the nagging, little voice at the back of my head that was telling me I should have left for home hours ago.

  The conversation Neil and I had shared about Mona was still thrumming around my head, and I couldn’t shake the thought of her once again. That was why I had picked up this fucking account in the first place, to get my mind off her. I hadn’t accounted for the fact she was going to turn out to be one of the most painfully efficient assistants in the history of the company, and that meant spending even more time around her than usual.

  How on Earth was I meant to keep my attraction to her on the down-low when I spent what felt like every minute of every day in her company?

  I wanted her more than ever. The more she showed herself to be competent and controlled when it came to business, the bigger and stronger my attraction grew. We still exchanged those looks, those moments, those little dashes of desire that neither of us could verbalize. I was telling the truth when I said nothing had happened, but I wasn’t sure if I could honestly say that nothing ever would.

  I made my way into her office, almost without realizing I was doing it. The place smelled lightly of her, and I felt a little creepy for even recognizing what her scent was. I couldn’t help it, though. It felt that, despite my best efforts, I’d absorbed this intimate knowledge of Mona – how she smelled, the way her eyes scrunched up when she smiled, and how she yawned while tilting backward so she could stretch her back that got sore working in that chair all day.

  I brushed my hand across the back of that chair, imagining what if would be like if she were here. She would turn to look up at me and give me that bright, beautiful smile, maybe ask if there was something I needed or something she could do.

  And maybe this time, instead of asking her to shift around a meeting or switch up a schedule, I would tell her the truth – that she was the only thing I needed, that all of this was only an attempt to distract myself from her and how utterly and completely perfect I was sure we’d be for each other if we just gave things a chance.

  But I needed to hold myself back from this as best I could. Even if it hurt, even if every fiber of my being told me it was wrong for me to fight these feelings.

  I walked out of her office, and without missing a beat, scooped up my coat and headed straight for the stairs. I didn’t want to be here anymore, not without her.

  Jesus. I hoped she had a better grasp on her self-control than I did because things were bubbling over inside of me and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold off.

  Chapter 11

  Mona

  When I arrived in the office that Monday morning, I was surprised to find it empty.

  It wasn’t like Oliver to miss an early start like this. I glanced around, searching for clues that might indicate where he had gone. My eyes fell on his drinks cabinet, and I briefly considered diving in and pouring myself something, but it was so early in the day that I knew my body would reject any kind of alcohol – or, indeed, any liquid that wasn’t extremely high in caffeine.

  I spotted a note on the table, scrawled out in messy handwriting that I recognized at once as Oliver’s. I looked closer.

  ‘Meeting – back at ten,’ the note read, and I wondered why he hadn’t just emailed me the in
formation instead. He could be so old-fashioned in the most unexpected of ways. I found it kind of charming.

  I made my way around the office, almost reverently, touching the small motorcycle trinket on his desk and enjoying the view out the window as the sun rose high above the city. The light was warm and soft, and I could have stood there all day soaking it in if I didn’t have a million other things to get on with.

  I ran my hand absently over the back of his chair. It was tall, almost as tall as I was, and his jacket was slung haphazardly over the arm. I glanced around, hardly able to believe I was really about to do what had just crossed my mind.

  Before I could stop myself, I leaned in, closed my eyes, and pressed my face against his jacket, inhaling deeply. The scent of his aftershave filled my senses, and I let out the tiniest moan. I pulled back, flushing, and looked around, as though someone might have caught me, but I was alone in the office, with a couple of hours still before he was due back.

  I slipped into the seat, leaning my head back against the soft leather and closed my eyes. I ran my hands along the armrests, squeezing them softly, and watching as the imprint of my hand dented and released in the fabric. I tilted my head to the side so I could capture the scent of his jacket once more.

  Mmm, he smelled so good. He was so far removed from the guys I knew in college, who always seemed to smell of Axe body spray and cheap beer. His aftershave was rich, fragrant, and deliciously tempting, the kind that made me want to bury my face against his neck and breathe him in like I could consume him whole if I tried hard enough.

  I bit my lip as the thought crossed my mind. Maybe I’d even bare my teeth, let him feel them against his neck. I could imagine the laugh he’d let out at my mock ferociousness, the way he’d slip his hands around me and tug me away gently so he could look me in the eyes.

  “So, you want to play rough, do you?” he’d say, and it would be as much a challenge as it was anything else.

  I’d bite my lip and nod up at him coyly.

  “Take off your panties,” he’d order.

  My mind envisioned the two of us, me in front of the desk and him in this very seat behind it. As my mind played out this fantasy, I slipped my hand beneath my trousers, beneath my panties, and my fingers found my clit and set to work. It had been a while since I’d found the time to grant myself some relief.

  I’d lean down seductively, taking my time, hooking my fingers around my panties and pulling them down my legs before delicately stepping out of them and looking back to him for orders.

  He’d hold out his hand.

  “Give them to me,” he’d order, calmly, and I would do as I was told at once, handing them over dutifully. He’d pluck them from between my fingers and lift them to his face, inhaling deeply and shooting me a wicked smile as he did so.

  “Turn around, and touch your toes,” he’d demand.

  By now I would be able to feel my clit pulsing to attention, demanding to be taken care of. I’d do as I was told at once. My skirt would ride up, and I’d hear the sound of the chair creaking beneath him as he leaned forward and took me in. He’d pause for a moment, and the room would be so quiet I could hear my heartbeat. Then, finally, he would speak again.

  “Finger yourself,” he’d growl, his voice low and heated.

  My desire-fuddled brain would take a second to work out what he meant, but as soon as I did, I would slip my hand between my legs and push two fingers into my soaking wet pussy.

  Back in his office chair, I squirmed and ground my pussy against my fingers, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. It felt so close to being real that I could almost reach out and touch it, and it was making me almost crazy with desire.

  I’d push my fingers in and out of my pussy, moving slowly, making like I’d forgotten he was even in the room and getting myself off as best I could. My body would be tense all over as I waited for his next order, but he’d take his time and make me wait, enjoying the show too much to intervene quite yet. Finally, he’d speak again.

  “Turn to me. Put your hands on the desk.”

  Again, I would eagerly comply, my fingers slick as I pressed my hands against the cool wood of the desk in front of me. I’d look at him for a moment and he’d look back, still sitting in that chair, his face somehow impassive, despite everything that was happening, while mine would have my need written all over it.

  He’d meet my gaze, and he’d offer me the briefest smile, one that told me he knew how badly I needed this and that he wasn’t going to make me wait much longer.

  He’d get to his feet and slowly walk around me, his gaze burning into me the whole time. I’d shift back and forth, desperate for some kind of release, and when he positioned himself behind me, I’d know it was coming at last.

  “You look so good like this,” he would say.

  Then, he’d run a hand over my bare ass, maybe landing a sharp, sore spank on my backside to make me jump a little. I’d groan, unable to articulate how badly I needed this. He’d unzip his pants, position himself at the entrance of my slit, and run his hand up my back to grasp my hair.

  Tilting my head back with a small tug, he’d force me to look into his eyes, brushing his mouth temptingly across my throat as he did so.

  “Ready?” he’d ask, and I’d only be able to nod.

  That would be all the invitation he needed. He’d push into me with one hard thrust, burying himself inside my pussy and letting out a deep, guttural groan as he held himself there for a second, letting me get used to the feeling of his thick erection deep inside me.

  My hands would tighten on the desk, legs already wobbly beneath me as he would begin to move, slowly at first.

  “You feel so fucking good,” he’d say, tugging again at my hair, so he could murmur the words directly into my ear. The sensation would course through me veins.

  His other hand would grasp my hip, holding me steady as he would really begin to move behind me, fucking me deep and hard. He wouldn’t take his time, having kept me waiting long enough at that point, and my mouth would drop open as he picked up the pace.

  He’d reach around, push two fingers between my lips, order me to suck on them, then he’d tighten his grip on my hair, knowing that the mixture of pleasure and pain he was causing had me close to the edge.

  He’d go harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts and matching with every thrust as he would plow into me, our bodies connecting, and my chest would heave as I tried to keep up with him.

  I let out a cry.

  It pulled me back from my fantasy and to the real world once more. I was coming, hard, my pussy pulsing under my fingers, and my entire body crumpling in the office chair below me.

  My breath was labored, and a small sheen of sweat covered my brow. I realized I had just made myself come thinking about my boss fucking me in the office we spent most of our days in together.

  I couldn’t believe I’d let myself do it. After all that time telling myself it was wrong, and convincing myself I’d managed to put my crush behind me, I let this happen.

  It felt like I was an addict, dipping into this potent drug I just couldn’t let go of. Every time I thought I’d shaken myself free, I found myself pulled back in.

  I still panted hard, and my muscles felt loose as I tried my best to scold myself for having indulged my desire but I failed dismally. I knew it was a cliché, but how could something that felt so right be so wrong?

  I stroked my clit a couple more times before I withdrew my hand from my panties – and to my horror, I heard someone making their way down the corridor toward me. There were footsteps. Footsteps I recognized.

  Shit, it was Oliver!

  I leaped from his chair as fast as I could, zipping my pants and slipping into my pocket the hand I’d used to masturbate, in the hopes he somehow wouldn’t pick up on what had just happened. I knew I was the color of beetroot, and I wracked my brains as fast as I could, trying to come up with a reason for why I was in his office when I should have been t
ucked away, working in mine.

  The door opened. I straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat.

  “I thought you weren’t going to be back until ten,” I blurted out, as soon as he came through the door.

  He shot me an odd look, furrowing his brow and smiling slightly as he made his way toward his desk. I had to step out of the way to let him past and found myself inhaling that almost intoxicating scent of his aftershave once more.

  “I just needed to pick up some papers,” he replied, rooting in his desk drawer for a moment and holding up a file.

  “Oh, right,” I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

  I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. What if he’d come back a few minutes earlier, when I was mid-orgasm and lost in a fantasy with my fingers down my pants. I’d have been fired on the spot, no question, and I would have deserved it. The thought of it was enough to make me cringe with embarrassment.

  “Sorry to disturb you.”

  He flashed me that flirtatious smile, the one that sent a shiver along my spine, and turned to head out the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Could you get back on all my messages for me?”

  “Sure, of course.”

  I nodded and waited for him to close the door tight behind him before I let my shoulders slump with relief. Holy shit, how the hell had I gotten away with that one?

  I scurried down the corridor to the bathroom to wash my hands, looking at myself in the mirror as I did so. My cheeks were still flushed, and there would have been no way in hell he hadn’t noticed that there was something up with me.

  Hopefully, I could pass it off as nothing more than fatigue and an early start if it came up again, but in the meantime, I would have to do a hell of a lot better job keeping my desires locked away while I was at work.

  I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and made my way back down to my office. I needed to get back to work and get on top of everything I’d missed over the weekend. He’d told me to take some time off and relax, to come back refreshed on Monday, and here I was using up all my energy masturbating instead of replying to emails. What kind of assistant was I?