I know we agreed to this fantasy thing, but being honest, I didn’t think he’d actually follow through. And what I wrote this morning was incredibly dirty.
Let’s just say I have a history of men not following through and doing what they said they would.
After running his white dress shirt through his legs, he tosses it on the ground with the dirtiest, sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen.
I smile, and throw my head back in laughter.
But my jaw drops--literally--at what he does next.
He gets on his hands and knees, still avoiding the web-camera, and crawls underneath the table.
I swallow and my eyes go wide. “Holy shit,” I whisper, and it’s too late when I realize I’ve whispered the words out loud.
“You like it that much?” Marsha asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” I choke, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. “It’s very impressive.”
“Thanks. The new gutter feature is especially designed for the stormy weather of Blackwell. It’ll keep the cows from getting wet,” she winks.
I flinch at first when I feel him touch my legs.
I feel soft kisses start at my ankles as Sebastian works his mouth up the insides of my calves and thighs. His touch is delicate as his tongue licks and caresses me while I try not to move a muscle. I need to keep my poker face for the conference call. Above the table, business decorum is observed and Frank and Marsha continue their presentation. I just smile and nod, because the above the table action is not what I care about right now.
Since below the table, out of sight of the glaring, judgemental eye of the public is where my fantasies come true.
His kisses and licks near dangerously close to my mound, and I move my legs wider apart, for him. I feel the heat of his breath and the strength of his fingers on my legs as his face arrives between my legs.
“No panties,” he says, hesitating before he touches me. “Just as I asked. Here’s your reward for being such a good girl.”
He flicks his tongue on my clit and I squirm in pleasure. In my image in the upper right hand corner of the screen I watch as my own face turns as red as a ripe apple.
He licks again, working his tongue on my clit.
He's probably loving torturing me, having his way with me in a public forum like this. For me, the real torture is not being able to moan as loud as I want. I'm not allowed to thread my fingers through his hair or cry out his name and beg him not to stop.
I sink lower into my chair and I resist him as best I can. This was the fantasy I wrote but that doesn't mean it was meant to come true.
Does it?
Holy fuck, what's he doing, tornados with his tongue?
I swallow and place my hands flat on the table, hanging on for dear life.
"As you see, it's a prototype and we can alter the design, but it's engineered exactly to Mr. Blackwell's specifications. Have you seen Mr. Blackwell by the way? He seemed so sure he would come to this meeting."
"Coming?" I repeat, my eyes hazy with pleasure. "Not yet. It feels good though. So good."
I clasped my hand over my mouth, realizing the words I just said.
"Feels...good?" Marsha asks.
"Yes," I fumble, and that asshole licks my pussy harder. I can't fucking think. "I mean I'm not a design expert but Mr. Blackwell told me the 'feel' of the design and this feels good so to speak. Oh fuck it feels so good!"
Uh oh. I see the shocked looks on the faces of Marsha and Frank. They must think I'm a crazy person. “Thank you Marsha,” I manage to say. “I mean the design--it’s got a good feel to it. I think the “feel” is really important. Don’t you?”
I let out a loud, awkward laugh, and Marsha, gives me sort of a funny look, but continues explaining the ins and outs of the design. Personally, I’m going to have to watch this presentation on playback, because the real show—speaking of ins and outs—is going on right now below the table as Sebastian dips two fingers inside of me to go along with his tongue.
I strain in vain not to let the pleasure be evident on my face, but it’s too great. This feels so wrong, but I can’t help but let go as Sebastian takes me to the brink. My core warms, my legs tingle, my spine tingles. Electricity spurts through me. My toes curl, my calves tense.
I hope to God the webcam microphone isn’t so sensitive it picks up every last detail of the audio. I’m breathing way too hard for a boring conference call. My breath hitches and waves of pleasure crash through me as I come.
This is no ordinary orgasm. This orgasm feels like it was prepared on a platter, served to me—a fine dining meal, prepared by my fucking billionaire boss. What possessed him to actually follow through on this promise, to make the fantasy I wrote this morning come true, I still don’t quite understand. Another thing I don’t quite understand is where these dirty thoughts and idea of mine come from. As I come down from my orgasm, he softens his touch. And I recall, what Sebastian mentioned yesterday about his subconscious, where he believes most of his thoughts rose from.
As I stare at Frank and Marsha, who are still pointing and talking about the project, my mind wanders. My thought is fleeting, but it’s there. And it’s the happiest thing I’d ever conceived. I don’t know why my strange mind takes this sort of lesson away from my boss and then down on me. But I think to myself, if this fantasy about my boss pleasuring me in a public setting can come true, then what can’t I do? It’s a powerful feeling to believe that your mind has a capability of lurid wishes come true. Even sexual fantasies, design plans, or otherwise, maybe Sebastian understands what it means to have dreams and follow through on them.
And that’s why he wants to make all my fantasies come true.
Though I have my doubts that Sebastian’s thought this deeply about what one orgasm like this can do to a girl like me.
As he pulls away from my clit, I take a deep breath, just let myself be, just exist. Sebastian is the kind of man that doesn’t talk about doing, or write about doing. He does. Period. He takes swift action when he wants something, and that’s why he’s so rich. Probably also why I’m so damn attracted to him, period. He pulls away completely, and I’m left with a feeling of emptiness without him touching me.
When he reappears just outside of the line of site of the web camera, he grabs his shirt just to the left, puts it on, button by button while he stares at me with his sex glare. His face is the cockiest, sexiest gesture a man’s ever made to me. He rubs his forearm, he rubs his mouth with his forearm, wiping his face clean of my juices. I damn near have another orgasm just from the sight.
I zone back in, to Marsha, who is tapping her microphone.
“Are you still there? Is this still working?”
“Oh, yes,” I say. “I was just thinking how amazing it is that you, Mr. Blackwell, everyone, that were all able to take our shared vision, and make it into reality. It’s truly incredible.”
“Wooh, okay!” she says. “Glad to hear that! I was getting a little bit nervous there when you weren’t saying anything.
“Yep, well, it’s all good,” I say. “Nicely done!”
Sebastian opens the door, and shuts it loudly, pretending that he’s entering the room.
“Heyyy, Frank! Marsha! So sorry I’m late. I meant to make this meeting.”
Frank chides him. “We were kind of lucky to have Brett here. She can give you a summary of what was talked about.”
“What meeting was so important that you had to ditch us?” Marsha asks with a wink.
“Well, I kind of had an impromptu late lunch,” he says with a giant smirk, and looks me dead in the eye.
I about die.
He grabs a seat in the chair next to me. “Hey, Brett, actually, can you check and make sure I don’t have anything in my teeth? Look,” he says, smiling his pearly whites at me.
“Well, anyways, we’ve got to jet,” Frank says. “We’ve got another call at around 11:30, but let us know if you have more questions.”
“Adios.” Sebastian
nods, and mercifully, the video cam cuts out.
“Oh my God, You are insane!” I say.
“Yep!” is all Sebastian says as he wiggles his eyebrows and leans back in his chair.
“They’ve been telling me I was insane ever since I was dirt poor, and said I was going to become a millionaire. Anything else you’d like to report?”
“Yeah, on Thursday, it’s my turn. I get to call the shots, unless you want to back out, which is fine.”
I scrunch up my brow at him. “What, you don’t think I can handle your fantasy? No, I’m not backing out, alright? Thank you.”
He smirks. “I’ll have it ready--I mean, my alter-ego Mr. X will have the fantasy ready for you when you come in. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I actually do need to get to my second lunch for today.Don’t worry, this is an actual lunch, that wasn’t a sexual comment or anything.”
I laugh. “Get out of here!” I say, pushing his shoulder playfully.
And he goes.
Fifteen - Brett
The next day is Saturday, and I take a much needed breather from work to take my sister to her soccer game. My sister Macy is fourteen, and in the car, she’s peppering me with questions about the new job.
“So you’re seriously working at Blackwell Industries?” she asks.
“Uhh, yeah,” I say.
“How did you get that job?” I explained to her how I turned Sebastian down, and that made him think I would be a good fit.
Macy nods, processing this information.
“So, you’re saying I should shut down the guys I like and they’ll want me?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know if that will always work. But you could try it, I guess. Although I don’t know if guys your age will be able to handle that kind of rejection.”
“Oh, King can definitely handle it. He’s the captain of the football team. He’s used to that kind of thing.”
“So this King guy is the one you have a crush on?”
“Uh, yeah! He’s the guy everybody likes. I don’t think he likes soccer girls though. Apparently, he has a thing for gymnastics girls.”
I glance over at Macy. She’s gorgeous. Fourteen, brunette. Her eyes are hazel, and looking at her makes me think I got the short end of the stick when it comes to looks in our family. And for her to think she’s anything else aside from damn gorgeous hurts my heart.
“Macy, you’re a catch,” I say.
She laughs, looks over at me.
“You’re a catch!”
She rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Sis. Changing the subject, what’s this I hear about you writing a romance novel?”
My grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“A romance novel?”
She smiles, like she’s got the dirty on me.
And she does. Not like I would keep something from her intentionally, but she’s young.
“Yeah, I know about that,” she continues. “Crystal’s sister told me Crystal talked to her sister, her sister talked to me. I’m actually a little bit upset that you don’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“Okay, you got me. I’m writing a little story for fun. Don’t take it personally that I didn’t tell you. Of course I trust you. But I don’t know if I’m a good writer. I don’t tell a lot of people about it. You obviously know now.”
“I do know. And I’m curious. Where do you get your inspiration? You haven’t dated in like forever. Since who, Patrick?”
“You mean the one who shall not be named.” I chuckle, and luckily we are pulling up to the Blackwell HS parking lot so we can end this awkwardness.
“Have a good game, kid.”
“I’m not done grilling you on this,” she says as she jumps out and grabs her gear from the back of the car. “I need to know all about this book.”
I park and head out to the Blackwell High School stadium, where the JV team has just taken the field. Macy goes with the varsity squad and does warm-up drills in the adjacent field.
I watch the game and enjoy the gorgeous fall weather.
Right before the varsity game starts, there’s a special announcement at midfield.
The head coach gets on the microphone, standing next to some Booster Club members and a few other people.
And then Sebastian Blackwell walks out, to whistles from the girls and cheers from the parents in the stands.
The coach says a few words. “And big thanks to the patron who made this new field possible, Sebastian Blackwell. We wouldn’t have been able to make this happen without your generous donation, and we’d like to present you with a special dedication.”
A few of the girls step forward with a golden plaque and ceremoniously hand it over to Sebastian. He steps to the podium.
“Yeah, I just want to thank all the teachers and the coaches I had during my time in Blackwell, who taught me all the lessons that I needed to be successful in life. They taught me that if I want something, all I need to do is go after it and work hard for it. As long as we have the right people and the right team in place, there is nothing we can’t achieve.” He speaks loudly, deeply, and from the heart. The crowd is riveted. He turns toward the line of girl soccer players standing on the sidelines. “And kids, I want you to know I was once standing in your shoes too. The most important lesson you need to take is that if your mind can conceive and believe something, you can achieve it. Now let’s have a good game!”
The crowd roars and Sebastian waves as he leaves the field.
My heart warms, and a new version of Sebastian takes hold in my heart.
One who is capable of loving as well as he does...other things.
Things that involve his dexterous tongue.
The field is incredibly nice, especially for a town like Blackwell that hasn’t got the most attention in terms of funds over the last few decades. We’ve been a pass-over town in so many ways.
I poke the soccer moms sitting on the bleacher next to me on the shoulder, because I’m curious about something.
“Hey, excuse me. Do you know how much this field cost?”
“Yeah, actually” she says. “I was on the committee that helped fund it. It was around five million dollars after everything.”
“Five million? Oh my God.”
“Yes,” she beams. “Five. I know a lot of people don’t like him, but Mr. Blackwell’s a generous man.”
I watch as Sebastian, now standing on the sideline and watching the beginning of the game, scans the crowd. We make eye contact, and he furrows his brow in the sun.
He says something to the head coach, and then makes a beeline toward me.
“Oh my God!” the soccer mom says. “Is Sebastian Blackwell coming our way?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Hm, he’s really a man of the people.”
He’s trying not to walk toward me with a giant smile on his face.
“Hi,” Sebastian says simply when he arrives to our spot in the bleachers. He smiles at me, then, reaches out a hand for the woman next to me. “I’m Sebastian.”
“I know who you are,” she says, blushing. “I’m Samantha.”
The way she speaks, there’s a clear subtext. I’m Samantha and I’d love to get to know you a little more.
“The sky’s so damn blue today,” he smiles, ignoring her flirty look. “Can’t think of many things out there as blue as this damn sky.”
He looks me dead in the eye, and I can’t help but recall what he said about my eyes. “Mind if I take a seat?” he asks.
“Uh, sure!” Samantha says lickety-split, maybe a little too fast to my liking.
Am I getting jealous of this woman?
I watch her line of vision as she stares him down in Saturday clothes, Sebastian looks so much different than how he appears in the office. He’s got on jeans, boots, aviator sunglasses, and a t-shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was just some sexy cowboy.
He sits right between the two of us, and Samantha does a good job of giving him just enough room so that he’s forced to gr
aze her thigh. “I tell you what,” he says. “Days like these I live for. Sun in my eyes. People playing sports. Having a good time. Reminds me of my own high school sport days. And these kids out there, they are just living the damn dream.”
He scrubs a hand across his jaw, and shoots me a secretive, knowing smirk that sense goosebumps through me.
I decide to put in my own two sense into the conversation.
“It makes me think of what I’ve always said. If you can make your dream into reality, or your fantasy to reality…that’s what life is for.”
Sebastian shoots me a funny look, squinting through the sun. “Since when do you always say that?”
I smile, my leg just an inch to the right. Our legs are touching.
“Since yesterday,” I say with a peculiar smile. “I had a special lunch meeting with my boss. It made me realize a few things.”
“Oh,” Sebastian says. “That sounds like a successful lunch out.”
“I’m sorry,” Samantha interjects. “Where do you work again?”
“I work at Blackwell Industries.” I can’t help the devilish grin that spreads across my face.
“Uh, alright…so you two know each other.”
I shrug. “You could say that.”
Sebastian and I exchange a knowing glance, and I feel good that we share a secret.
We settle into the action of the game, and make small talk. Macy scores a goal and we cheer her on. When it’s all over, Sebastian stands up. “Well ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I’ve got to be going.”
“Bye,” I say, and resist winking.
Samantha stands up as well, and hugs him goodbye. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I do have a small arts and crafts business, so let me know if you want to hang out and um, talk business.”
The way she says business makes me think she wants to do anything but.
I want to kiss him and show how I’m his, how he’s taken, but I freeze up. I can’t do anything. Our relationship isn’t official. It’s nothing.
As he walks away, I watch him. We’re not built to last. Our relationship, if you can call it that, is a shooting star bound to flame fast and die hard. I might as well not get emotionally invested, especially if that’s not something Sebastian wants.
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