by Opal Carew
They gaze at each other, communicating without words. The moment stretches, held together with emotion, with understanding, and I feel honored and a bit guilty to be observing the mother-son interlude.
She sighs. “I know you need your privacy. That’s what your father said also. He refused to leave the house.” She lifts onto her tiptoes and tenderly kisses his forehead. “But I wanted to meet her.” She pulls away from him, releasing his cheeks. “And now I have.” She smiles at me. “Ensure that my son doesn’t work too hard, Kirsten.”
“I’ll try, Mrs. Reyes.” My words are choked.
“Mom,” she corrects. “Call me—”
“It’s too soon for that, Mom.” Rob nudges her closer to the door.
“If you say so, Son.” She gives me another cheery wave and flits away.
I open my mouth.
He holds up his index finger. “Wait.” He pokes his head out of the door, looks to the left and the right and then closes it. “They’re gone.” He stares at the wood. “I must be as exhausted as they say. I should have expected that visit.”
“This isn’t the first time they’ve interfered, huh?” I survey his place. It’s decorated in warm tones with classic pieces of furniture. Edges are rounded. Curves replace angles. On the walls, half-naked, plump, dark-haired women cavort by rivers, barefoot and happy. His penthouse is warm and inviting and feels like a home. “Must be hard to have a sex life with your mom and housekeeper dropping by, cock-blocking you,” I tease.
“My mother dropped by because you were here.” Rob turns, a frown on his handsome face. “Involving Natty in our evening was a mistake. Tomorrow night, we’ll eat dinner at the office.”
I lift my chin, hearing more than his words. “You don’t want me to meet them again.” This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
“You’ll meet them again. There’s no stopping that.” His lips twist. “I’ll ask Natty for her key so we don’t have any surprise visitors in the future. Plus you’ll need access to the penthouse.”
“I don’t need access. I’m staying here for one night only.”
“Hmmm…” He thinks I’m full of shit.
“I brought a tote,” I remind him. “With one change of clothes.”
“And you packed nothing to wear tonight.” The look in Rob’s eyes is excitingly wolfish. “You’ll be sleeping naked in my arms. I’ve been thinking about that all day.”
The bulge in his dress pants tells me he’s thinking about that right now. “I’m not finished arguing with you yet.”
“I know.” He pulls me to him, folding my curves into his muscle. “It’s so fuckin’ hot. I want to kiss the pout out of your lips, suck on that witty tongue of yours.” His head dips. “And—”
My stomach rumbles. Loudly.
“Ignore that,” I urge, wishing to hear the rest of his erotic plans.
The rumbling escalates in volume, growing more insistent.
“I’d need earplugs to ignore that.” Rob chuckles. “We’ll satisfy our other appetites before heading to the bedroom.”
His bedroom. I look forward to seeing his private space, to view where he spends his nights. “Fucking in the bedroom is very old-fashioned.”
“I’m an old-fashioned type of guy.” He smiles. “Let’s taste this culinary masterpiece our ladies have left for us.” He extends his hand to me.
“I am hungry.” I slide my palm into his, his skin warm, firm. “We might wish to stay away from the Black Forest cake, though. According to your mom, it’s quite potent.”
Rob throws back his head and laughs.
We eat in his tidy kitchen and then fuck in his earth-toned bedroom, in front of a huge oil painting of a lovely curvaceous woman washing her dark flowing hair. He has a type, I think, as I lick him clean, savoring our combined flavors. And I am exactly that type.
Beautiful isn’t simply a flippant endearment Rob uses, a way to get into my silk panties. It’s genuinely how he views my generous figure, as a priceless living touchable work of art. The admiration in his eyes is real, lasting, as timeless as the art on his walls.
I feel adored, cherished, desired. Once I’ve licked every inch of him, Rob kisses me, stealing a taste of us. We cuddle, talk until we fall into the sleep of the sexually sated, his naked body folded protectively around mine.
I wake to firm lips sucking on my right breast, the tug and pull of Rob’s hot mouth setting off a pulsing in my pussy. His hair is crazy, his curls enchantingly out of control. He’s braced upward, his muscles flexed. His shoulders are broad, tanned, perfect for resting a woman’s thighs upon as she’s being fucked into the mattress.
Not merely a woman’s thighs. My thighs.
Because this gorgeous man is intent on pleasing me. He flicks my nipple with his tongue, playfully nips at my skin.
“I could get used to this.” I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
“That’s my devious plan.” Rob gazes up at me and smiles. My heart constricts. He’s so damn handsome. “I’ll pleasure you so well, you’ll desire this every morning.” He laves my curves with the flat of his tongue. “And know only I can give it to you.”
“You’re a bastard.” The warmth in my voice takes the harshness out of my words.
“So you tell me, beautiful.” He rubs the stubble on his chin over my skin, leaving a tantalizing trail of heat. “I want to spend the day inside you.”
“That’s not possible, boss.” We have a full day of meetings ahead of us. “But you can spend the next few minutes inside me.” I spread my legs, giving him access to all of me. “And you can fall asleep inside me tonight.”
His eyes widen. “You’ll stay over tonight?”
Oh shit. After our sexual exploits yesterday, I assumed he wanted another night. “If you have other plans—”
“I don’t.” He shifts upward, aligning his tip with my entrance and eases inside me. “And if I did have plans, I’d cancel them. This is how I want to start the work week, staring into your dark eyes, your body under mine, your warmth, scent, wetness around my cock.”
“That’s too bad.” I tilt my hips, taking him deeper. “I thought we’d begin Monday with a mind-frying blow job. You’d shoot your cum down my throat and I’d taste you all day long.”
“Fuck.” Rob rocks into me. “That’s good too. You can suck me off Tuesday morning.”
I feign a frown. “I like to celebrate Tuesdays with a cock in my ass.”
“With my cock in your ass.” His tempo increases. “I’m the only man who will touch you.”
“While I’m working for you.” I pant, gripping his shoulders.
“Ever.” He surges in and out of me, his vigorous thrusts torching my brain and moving the bed. “I’ll fuck your ass on…hell…which day are we discussing?”
“Tuesday.” I labor under him. “Or Wednesday.” I’m not certain. “Our fucking schedule is also a mess.”
“Discuss…later,” Rob grunts. “Can’t…think.”
He drives into me, filling my pussy again and again. His chest slaps my breasts. His hips snap against mine. This decadent abuse isn’t enough for me. I bump my heels against his ass encouraging him to take me faster, harder, needing more, more, more.
Rob rises to the challenge and this turns me on. He’s powerful, confident. My demands don’t intimidate him. He can handle it, can handle me.
And he wants me to stay another night. This isn’t our last encounter. I don’t know when we’ll end but it won’t be today.
I lift into his thrusts, meeting him halfway, as his equal. My arms and legs quiver. My pussy constricts around his cock, increasing the heat between us, compounding the sensations flooding my form.
“Rob.” I stroke him with my hands, my breasts, my hips, all of me. “Rob.” His name becomes my sexual battle cry, spilling from my lips again and again.
“Yes.” He skims his lips over my neck. “Give yourself to me, beautiful.”
“Rob.” I’m his. He owns me, m
y body, my mind, my soul. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, marking him as he’s marked me, trying to make our joining permanent.
“Yes.” Rob arches his back, pushing into the pain.
He’s so fuckin’ crazy and I love it. I buck against him. He shoves me back into the mattress. We battle for supremacy, for our satisfaction, our passion intensifying with each give and take.
“Touch yourself.” He rounds his back, humping me with abandon, pounding the headboard against the wall.
I slip my hand between us, find my clit. “Rob?” I look to him for permission.
“Now.”
I touch myself and splinter, screaming his name, surrendering to him, to desire. The room spins. Waves of bliss sweep over me. I clench his cock with my inner walls, release him, clench, release.
Rob bellows, pushing deep, flooding me with his cum, the skin on his face stretching tight, his eyes as black as his car but without the shine.
“Fuck.” He falls.
I catch him, cushioning his muscle with my curves. He’s damp and hot, his natural musk filling my nostrils. It’s so damn primal and sexy, a version of my sophisticated executive few people have seen.
I pet his hair, coo nonsense to him as he trembles. He gradually calms.
“You were my only candidate.” His voice is barely audible.
“What?”
“I accepted résumés until I received yours.” Rob rests his cheek against mine. “Then I stopped the process. Human Resources insisted I interview other people, but you were my first, my only choice.”
I was his only choice. “Cerise Case—”
“Showed me her breasts and kissed me.” He sounds disgusted. “Three other candidates did the same thing. One woman grabbed my cock.”
I grimace. “I did that.”
“You showed me your magnificent breasts and asked if I wanted you to suck my cock. You didn’t grab me, didn’t try to kiss me.” Rob rolls to his side. “And you knew I wanted you.” He drifts his fingertips over my cheek. “Everyone knows I want you.”
Do they? I glow. “Did everyone get the truth right this time?”
“Yeah, they got it right.” He smiles.
Chapter 5
Rob and I shower together, playing in the water, touching, exploring, soaping bare skin and rinsing off the suds. We towel each other dry, Rob’s vigorous rubbing jiggling my curves, warming me all over.
Then we dress, preparing for a Sunday spent at the office. Suits are a requirement at all times, the darker, the better. I don my favorite black skirt suit. Rob chooses the same shade.
We look like a couple and this pleases me.
On the way to Powers Corporation, we stop at a coffee shop, pick up coffees and breakfast sandwiches. We eat and drink in the car while heatedly discussing whether eggs are better paired with bacon or with sausage. Rob is adorably insistent that his clearly wrong stance is right. I want to suck on his sausage-coated tongue, taste his inappropriate choice for myself.
But I can’t because, when we arrive at the office, the Maserati isn’t the only vehicle in the parking garage. The company limousine is positioned across three spots. John Powers, our huge, hulking workaholic CEO, trails Trella Grant, his tiny and much beloved assistant, as she walks toward the elevators.
“He wants to talk to me.” Rob moves to my side of the vehicle, opens my door, holds out his hand.
I grasp his fingers, allowing him to help me out of the car. “It could be a coincidence.”
“This is John Powers. There are no coincidences.”
That is true. Our CEO is deliberate about every action.
We walk toward them, hand in hand. Rob isn’t hiding our relationship. Pride meshes with my apprehension. His boss will comment on it.
Or maybe he won’t. Powers doesn’t make small talk.
As we near them, the elevator doors open. Powers pokes his head into the small space, looks around, gestures to his assistant to enter. She claims the rear right corner. Her boss stands directly in front of her, blocking her from our sight.
Rob guides me to the left, positioning himself next to his boss. “Powers.” His voice is curt.
“Reyes.” Powers studies him, his gaze lowering to our linked fingers. “I assume this puts an end to that bullshit about you leaving us. I won’t be hearing anything more about you working for Logan Ross, that pain-in-the-ass friend of yours.”
Rob tightens his grip on my hand. “That step is no longer necessary.”
He was thinking of leaving the company? I gawk at him, surprised as hell. Rob seems happy at Powers Corporation. He respects his boss, enjoys the autonomy he’s earned, the challenges of finding financing for billion dollar builds.
“And the assistant situation is now under control?” Powers asks.
Rob lifts his chin, meets his boss’s gaze squarely. “There’s no assistant situation.”
Powers glares at Rob. Rob glares back. He might report to the man but he’s no subordinate, no weak-assed yes-man.
Trella murmurs, her words too low for me to hear.
Powers nods. “As long as your performance isn’t compromised, you can manage your department however the hell you want.”
Rob stiffens even more. “My department always reaches its goals.”
He’s such an arrogant bastard. I stifle my grin.
The conversation shifts to a less hostile yet no less curt discussion of interest rates and U.S. dollar hedging. Powers pauses often to consult Trella.
This is how an executive-assistant relationship should work. The assistant supplies facts—numbers, data, history, allowing the executive to make informed decisions. One person looks at details. The other person considers the big picture. Combined, they form a complete view of the situation.
Rob is alone, missing half of this team. I’m unable to help him, not knowing where the information he needs resides in the company databases. Mrs. Bellows isn’t here. He’s at a disadvantage.
And this pisses me off. He should use his damn assistant. Mrs. Bellows trained Trella. She could match the younger woman’s skill, give him the backup he needs.
The doors open at the Finance floor. Rob and I exit. Powers and Trella remain in the elevator, the CEO working on the top floor.
I stomp down the hallway, fuming. “What the hell are you doing, Rob? Your boss has his assistant by his side, feeding him information, and you’re flying solo. You look like a jackass.”
“I can hold my own with Powers.” He matches my stride.
“Barely.” I roll my eyes. “And only because you’re so damn intelligent. You need your assistant. There’s a reason every executive has one. You can’t do this job alone.”
“I know I can’t do this alone.” He sounds exasperated. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I can’t help you as much as Mrs. Bellows can.” I don’t have the knowledge, the history.
We turn the corner. Three of Powers Corporation’s top salespeople linger outside Rob’s office. They’re clad in power suits, their expressions intense, their mouths and hands moving. I’m guessing they’re aligning their pitches on creative unit financing.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Rob brushes the back of his hand against mine and pleasure shoots up my arm.
We’ll talk about quite a few things later. I summon a smile, greet the salesmen, distracting them as Rob enters his office, giving him an opportunity to log in to his computer and pull the required facts.
As his meeting starts, I work on his double booked schedule and think about our encounter with John Powers. Rob considered leaving the company. I’ll ask him about that after his meetings are done for the day.
There’s also an ‘assistant situation.’ That could be a reference to me, to Rob wanting an assistant for his assistant, a position existing in no other department. My tapping on the keyboard increases in speed. Had Powers known Rob wanted me? Had Rob fought for the ability to hire me, to fuck me?
I send Rob a message.
/>
I don’t have to wait long for a response.
Part of me already realized this.
There’s a long pause.
It’s not like him to avoid a topic. I leave it alone, concentrate on the mess he created, booking his weekends for the rest of the month.
Lunch is pizza and salad. He eats with the attendees of his noon meeting. I nibble away while staring at the screen. Dessert squares are devoured in the afternoon, Chinese food for dinner. We work, our time between meetings brief and frustratingly public.
Then the countdown begins.
I smile. He’s thinking about me, about what we’ll do after the last person leaves. I consider what to offer, how to intrigue him.
I want this to be special, a proposal he can only get from me.
My gaze lowers to my generous chest.
I wiggle.
I frown.
That should intrigue him.
He’s a top executive and he’s allowing me to use his tremendous power and influence, no questions asked, no concerns about misuse.
I could authorize a salary increase for myself, for Mrs. Bellows, hell, for his entire department. I could trade his sleek black Maserati for a pastel-pink Volkswagen Beetle. I could invite his mother and father to his place for dinner, sending a signal to them that Rob’s serious about me, that he wants me for more than a convenience fuck.
He knows I won’t do this but I could. He’s given me the authorization.
Oh, I’ll tell him, alright.