Rule Me Dirty: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Parker Grey

  I like that he can make me come anywhere, any time, and it’s entirely up to him.

  At 5:45 the day is wrapping up when I feel it turn on again. This time I don’t jump, just let my eyes drift closed briefly and take a deep breath, enjoying the sensations.

  It builds and builds, familiar now, as my coworkers walk past me and tell me to have a good weekend. I just nod, looking quickly at Camille, but she seems occupied.

  I can’t control my thoughts: Mr. Declan, his thumb on the remote control, watching me. Mr. Declan, sitting in his chair, cock in my mouth as I swallow him deep. Mr. Declan, coming out of his office and bending me over my own desk in full view of everyone.

  I don’t even care anymore. I want it. I need it.

  Then it cuts off. I blink and force myself not to turn around and look at Mr. Declan as I wait, pussy aching. It goes on and then off — and on and off, on and off in a pulse. I squirm in my seat and try not to, but I need to move it around, need it to stay on and make me come, just this one last time

  It turns off again.

  Frustrated, I look back at Mr. Declan’s office, despite myself. He’s sitting there serenely, looking at his computer screen, refusing to make eye contact with me. A full minute passes. No vibrator.

  I stand, adjust my skirt, and sit back down, hoping he’ll notice.

  A knot of coworkers walks past my desk and it comes back on, stronger than before. I grip my mouse in one hand, tightening the other into a fist, determinedly looking at my computer screen, trying to act normal and smile at everyone leaving.

  To my right, Camille gets up and shuts off her computer, still giving me a strange look.

  “Night, Sloane,” she says, walking toward the double doors.

  “Night,” I say, trying to sound light and breezy even as the delicious, swooning feeling inside me grows, building fast.

  “Don’t work too late!” says another coworker, the nice, bearded guy who’s the head of Design.

  I can only smile back at him and clamp down my pussy muscles, doing my very best not to come until he’s out the door.

  I grit my teeth together and cross my legs. I try to breathe evenly and relax because people are still leaving, even as my eyes kept threatening to close and my hand grips the mouse so hard I’m afraid I might break it.

  The vibrator stops again, and I can barely keep myself from whimpering with need.

  I wait. I’m not in control here, and I can’t even look back at the man who is because I’m afraid I might give it away.

  A few more coworkers walk past my desk, all saying their various good nights. I nod at them, distracted, waiting for the vibrator to start again. Wanting it to start again.

  As they push the front doors open, it finally starts again and my eyes drift shut with relief. I need to finish this time, because I feel like I might cry or scream or simply lose my mind. It starts on low and builds to top speed, and soon it’s vibrating so hard I feel like my teeth might be rattling.

  It goes to low speed again, back and forth. The rhythm of it brings me to the edge and then back, again and again, every repetition more frustrating.

  It stops again, and before I even realize what I’m doing I’m out of my chair, walking quickly back to Mr. Declan’s office. He pretends to look surprised as I come in the door and stand in front of his desk, the door behind me still open.

  “Please,” I whisper, so frustrated I think I might cry.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “Please make me come, Mr. Declan,” I whimper, careful to keep my voice low.

  He reaches into his pocket and then the vibrator is on high again. It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds before I’m coming, my hands on Mr. Declan’s desk, grinding my teeth as I force myself to stay upright and not fall over, not beg my boss to fuck me.

  When it’s over I feel dazed, relieved but still aroused, like there’s nothing that can put my fire out. I stand up straight and try to act like nothing happened, but he’s still watching me with his hungry eyes, and I swallow hard.

  Chapter Ten

  Mr. Declan

  Sloane stands in front of me. I think she’s still shaking from coming, and I’m rock hard. I nearly came myself, watching her come unraveled like that.

  I need more from her. I want more, more than we can risk right now. I want her tied up and moaning my name, begging me for more.

  “Go home,” I say quietly.

  She takes a deep breath.

  “What about the deadline?” she asks, and I know what she’s really asking: no overtime tonight?

  “It’s taken care of,” I say, because it is. I’ll be home myself in an hour. Or, rather, at a fundraiser or some other bullshit.

  I don’t want to be there. I want to be balls-deep in my secretary.

  “Oh,” she says, her eyes flicking down, disappointed. She turns to leave.

  “Have a good weekend,” I say, my voice louder now.

  She gathers her things, shuts down her computer, and walks for the door, my cock still throbbing against my pants.

  Against my better judgement, I follow her to the elevators.

  “Sloane,” I say, and she turns.

  I just smile. The elevator doors open. There’s no one else in there, and in that moment, I make a hasty, irrational decision.

  I follow her in, and her eyes go wide.

  The moment the doors shut behind us, the vibrator is on full blast inside her and she leans against the wall, her hands clutching the handrail, and she moans, her eyes closed and mouth open. I hit the emergency panic button and the elevator jolts to a stop.

  “Mr. Declan,” Sloane whimpers, but I’m already on my knees, pushing her skirt up over her hips, resting her ass on the handrail and taking the rest of her weight on my shoulders. I lap at her sweet pussy, her juices practically flowing out and onto my tongue, and she moans again.

  “That feels so good,” she says, her voice a breathy whimper as I push my tongue inside, her whole body vibrating with the force of the toy, but she moans anyway as I find the spot.

  “I’m gonna come again,” she whispers.

  I pull my tongue back.

  “Good,” I growl, licking furiously at her clit. She moans again, louder and louder, and I can tell she’s close. Not that it takes her much, not right now.

  “Fuck me, Mr. Declan,” she whispers.

  I put my lips around her clit and flick my tongue over it as hard as I can, sucking and licking.

  “Please fuck me,” she gasps. “Please, God, Mr. Declan, I need you to—”

  She breaks off, just moaning. Her cunt spasms below my lips and I dig my fingers into her thighs as she cries out, gasping and whimpering and moaning my name like she’s desperate for me, totally crazy.

  I pull back. I put her down, and she looks up at me almost like she’s drugged, her chest heaving as she pulls her skirt down.

  I think about turning her toward the wall and fucking her hard, right then and there.

  “Hello, what’s the emergency?” a voice says from the call box.

  I clear my throat, still looking down at Sloane.

  “No emergency,” I say. “Hit the button by accident. Sorry about that.”

  The woman grumbles, but the elevator starts moving again. In a few floors more people get on, so Sloane and I don’t say anything to each other. If it smells like pussy, no one says anything.

  On the ground floor, we’re the last ones in the car. I stay inside, because I’m going back to work, but before Sloane can get off, Camille gets on.

  “Forgot my keys,” she says, but when she sees the two of us together, her eyes narrow. Sloane practically runs from the elevator, but I stay, even though I know it reeks of sex.

  Camille doesn’t say anything to me on the way back up.

  I send in all our materials to the Daily Grind half an hour later, after checking and double-checking that everything is done correctly, as well as we can do it.

  I can be a perfectionist.

/>   I’m the last one in the office, and as I shut the doors and turn the lights off, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in days. No one is here, especially not her, and for once I have some clarity.

  You shouldn’t be fucking your secretary, I think. Whatever this is, stop it.

  Have a little self-control. You know you’re capable of it.

  I want her, and I need her so much I feel a physical tug toward her, but I know the logical part of my brain is right. It’s just sex, and I can control myself.

  I’ll have her be someone else’s secretary in the office, and stop seeing her so much, and then this will be over and I can get back to my life.

  I take a deep breath as I’m in the elevator again, a different one than a moment ago. I feel clear-headed, like I’m doing the right thing, not fucking my subordinate. At least I didn’t let it get too far.

  I get into the back of a Town Car and head home, determined to transfer her to a new boss first thing Monday morning.

  The weekend is hell. It’s forty-eight hours without seeing Sloane, and she’s all I can think about the entire time. The way she looks when she comes, the way she tastes. The way her mouth feels around my cock.

  Monday morning comes, and she’s at work before me, and there’s heat in her eyes the moment she looks at me.

  “Good morning, Mr. Declan,” she murmurs.

  “Good morning, Sloane,” I say.

  I wonder if she’s wearing panties. I wonder if she’s got the vibrator up her pussy again, and my need for her is overpowering, instantly.

  “What do you need today?” she asks. It’s a perfectly simple question, but laced with meaning.

  I take a deep breath.

  “Nothing, thanks,” I say. “I’ll let you know.”

  She looks disappointed, her perfect lips just barely twitching into a pout, and I walk to my office before I can give in to my urges right there, in the middle of my office.

  I don’t transfer her to someone else, though. Even if it’s torture, the thought of someone else being her boss, of her fetching someone else coffee or being in someone else’s office sets off something deep and primal inside me, something that snarls at the thought.

  Maybe I’m not going to take her, but no one else can have her. That’s for sure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sloane

  I’m so disappointed I could cry. After what happened Friday, suddenly Mr. Declan is distant, uninterested. He works alone in his office for most of the day, only coming out and speaking to me in short, one-word sentences.

  I wonder if something happened with Camille, if she said something.

  If she knows.

  Shit.

  It’s nearly five, and people are already trickling out. I’m going from office to office, handing out minutes for tomorrow’s meeting to the firm’s partners before I leave. One of them, Mr. Soames, isn’t in today, so I let myself into his office and leave the minutes on his desk.

  Then I stand there a moment, looking around. His office is totally different from Mr. Declan’s, outfitted in Japanese art, long shades over the big window. There’s a tiny zen garden on a side table, and I walk over to it and trace one finger through the sand.

  I breathe deep. Am I zen yet? I think. I’m still disappointed, that’s for sure, and even disappointment isn’t enough to keep me from pulsing with desire whenever my boss’s eyes meet mine.

  Masturbate a lot and you’ll get over it, I tell myself.

  “You shouldn’t be messing with another man’s sand,” a low, growly voice says behind me.

  I whirl around, heart in my throat. There’s a throb deep inside me, and I’m speechless for a moment.

  Then I’m wet. A full weekend of nothing suddenly hits me, and I’m nearly weak with desire for him, now.

  I take my finger out of the zen garden.

  “I was just trying to find some calm,” I say quietly. “I’ve been so worked up lately.”

  He comes into Mr. Soames’s office and shuts the door behind himself, quietly, and takes his suit jacket off, laying it over a chair. His eyes are hungry again, and I bite my lip. I’m not sure what to say — after all, he’s been almost cold to me all day, and I’m not at all sure what’s happening as he walks over to me, towering above my head.

  I swallow.

  “Mr. Dec—”

  “All I’ve thought about this weekend was how you begged me to fuck you in the elevator,” he says, his voice a low murmur. I can still hear people walking back and forth outside the office door, and I know they could come in here at any time.

  He takes my jaw in his hand, his thumb on my mouth. I open my lips and he slips it in and I suck on it hard, my tongue raking across the pad, wishing it were his cock in my mouth again.

  “I came in this morning fully intending to make you someone else’s assistant,” he growls. “And instead, I’m about to tell you to beg me to fuck you again.”

  He takes his thumb out of my mouth. I’m panting for breath, looking up at him. I can already feel my juices running down my thighs, I want him so bad.

  “Please, Mr. Declan,” I whisper.

  “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me,” I whisper. “I need it, Mr. Declan. Please.”

  He pauses for a moment.

  Then, before I can move, he’s lifted me and puts me down in front of the desk, one hand in my hair. He pushes me down, face first, onto Mr. Soames’s desk and pushes my skirt up to my waist, sliding his finger inside me instantly, making me gasp.

  His hand in my hair tightens.

  “No noises,” he growls, pushing another finger inside.

  My hands curl around the edges of Mr. Soames’s desk, and Mr. Declan bends down, letting my hair go quickly and running his tongue to my clit, his fingers still working me to a frenzy as he laps me hard and fast.

  In moments, I’m close to the edge, but he stops. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my pussy as I’m bent over someone else’s desk, face down on his papers, doing my best not to scream.

  His tongue moves again, further back, and I hold my breath as he makes his way down until I can feel his hot, flexible tongue on my other hole, and I gasp.

  It’s virgin territory. No one’s ever done that before, not even close, and now my boss has his tongue there. At work.

  It’s dirty as fuck, but worse, it feels good. I moan into the desk even though I’m trying not to as he probes harder, deeper, his hands on the globes of my ass.

  Then he stands. He undoes his pants, his belt clanking, and I look behind myself to see him stroking his enormous, thick cock.

  Not in my ass, please, I think.

  Then I think: not yet.

  “Sloane,” he says. He takes me by the hair again, pulling my head back and pushing my hips down, the tip of his huge cock at my soaking wet entrance.

  “Yes?” I gasp, my voice a strangled whisper.

  “You’re a dirty, filthy girl and I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t think,” he says, his breath coming quickly. He pulls on my hair a little, and I bite my lip, determined not to make a noise.

  He gets closer, the head of his cock nudging harder against me, and speaks into my ear.

  “You’re going to take my big cock like a good girl, and you’re going to keep quiet even though I’m about to make you come so hard you see stars,” he goes on, his lips tickling my ear.

  “Yes,” is the only thing I can whisper as he pulls my hair a little more, making my back arch.

  Mr. Declan pushes inside me with a single, fast, hard stroke and it feels so good I nearly shout, but all that comes out of my mouth is a grunt. He’s huge, stretching me almost to the limit, filling me way beyond anything I’ve ever felt — more than any boyfriend for sure, even more than the ludicrously huge dildo.

  I’m so full I can barely move, and it feels so good that I can’t even think. I just know I want more, even if I don’t know whether I can take it.

  Behind me, Mr. Declan
grunts, grabbing my hips with one hand and pulling me against him, his balls slapping against me, as deep as he can possibly go.

  “Fuck, you’ve got a tight little cunt,” he whispers in my ear. “You like having it stuffed full of cock?”

  It’s so dirty it makes my toes tingle. No one’s ever talked to me this way, not even close. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone who spoke during sex.

  “Yes,” I whisper again. “Mr. Declan, you feel so good.”

  “Tell me what you want,” he says, still buried completely inside me.

  Even without moving, he’s driving me completely wild, his cock hitting exactly the right buttons inside my channel, and I think I might lose my mind if he doesn’t start fucking me soon.

  “Fuck me, please,” I say. I don’t know where the words are coming from. It doesn’t even feel like me.

  “Fuck me so hard I walk funny tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mr. Declan

  “Fuck me,” Sloane begs, her head back, her hair in my hand, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet office.

  I pull out of her slowly, savoring the moment as I watch my cock emerge from her tight pussy, glistening and dripping with her juices. I know I should be doing this as fast as possible because we could get caught any second, but I can’t help myself.

  I’ve wanted to watch my cock sink into her for weeks now. This is a reward for my patience.

  “Ohhh,” she breathes, sighing as I pause, just the head of my cock inside her, her muscles gripping me, practically pulling me back inside. Holy shit she feels good, tighter than I’d imagined, wetter than I thought possible.

  Her pussy practically pulls me back inside, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I slide in, thrusting hard, sinking myself balls-deep into my secretary with a low, quiet groan.

  She gasps. I tighten my hand in hers, and then I fuck her again, harder and faster this time, then harder and harder until I’m slamming her hips into the desk, pounding her as hard as I can and she’s whimpering, her hands scrambling at the desk as I practically hold her up by the hair.