Personal Assistant

by Cara North

  Shay whispered, “You should have punched her in the face. She needs a new nose job anyways.”

  Frankie sighed. She wanted to punch Ivy in the face for what she did to Jonas. She really wanted to punch herself in the face because in that moment, she really wanted to be Ivy. She wanted to be the one kissing him.

  The movie played, it ended, and Frankie was all too ready to return to the luxurious house she didn’t really live in, but was practically living in anyways. She made a mental note to walk through the entire thing and learn her way around it. She lived in an apartment that was not much bigger than the space Ish lived in. Her parents had a three bedroom house. There was no getting lost in her world, everything fit with a purpose. Here, she was getting lost in more ways than one.

  “It must be great to get to look at him up close all the time,” Shay said as they left the theatre. “I can’t wait to see who his new co-star will be. Another starlet launched to fame for fucking him. I wish it were me.”

  Frankie wanted to punch Shay in the face, but that kind of talk was normal for Shay. She wanted to fuck any and every male celebrity she thought would launch her career though Frankie had noticed Shay had not dated anyone in a while. Maybe she was all talk these days.

  “I’m sure whoever it is will be a lucky girl.” Frankie frowned. Insecurity slipped in for a turn at her thoughts.

  “It could be me if you introduce us,” Shay said it in her whiny voice. The one Frankie would normally cave to. She did owe Shay a lot, but the line was being drawn, here, now. Over him.

  “Not gonna happen. You want to meet him, stalk him like everyone else.” Frankie left Shay standing there with eyes wide and mouth open.

  ***

  Frankie tried to be quiet as she entered the house. She took off her shoes and padded barefoot up the stairs. Her toes appreciated the soft plush carpet. The office light was off. His bedroom light was still on. She tried to resist the urge to look in. She failed. As she poked her head around the corner she took a moment to take in the magnificence of him, the man, not the star. Though as stars go, his light shone as bright as the sun.

  He was looking at something, not a script, not the television, but something he had in his hand. Some paper that had his rapt attention. His thumb rubbed along his collarbone. He bit his lip. His hand moved slow, methodic down his chest and under the sheet barely covering his hips pushing it enough to expose his target. He gripped his cock over the cotton briefs. Frankie’s pulse went wild. Her breath hitched. Her eyes blinked. She was not supposed to be there. She was not supposed to be watching him, but she could not for a million dollars look away.

  “How was the movie?” he asked as he stopped his hand and sat the paper aside on the nightstand. His head lifted to look at her. A mischievous smile on his lips.

  Embarrassed she tried for bravado over cowardice. “Not as good as the current showing.”

  He tilted his head. “I was just reading your resume.”

  “Thinking about replacing me?” Her heart skipped a beat.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Then my resume turned you on?” Frankie moved so that she could be completely seen in the doorway.

  “Everything about you turns me on, Frankie.” He punctuated the statement with a firm squeeze to his cock.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” She bit her own lip as the word made his eyes close. When they opened, the liquid blue color was nothing short of burning with desire. Desire for her. Could a girl ask for more than the undivided attention of a man any woman would love to have?

  “Come closer,” he ordered. “And take off your clothes as you do so.”

  Frankie smiled at him. She removed an item of clothing every few steps. Down to her bra and panties, she stood at the edge of his bed.

  She moved her hand to the back clasp and he shook his head no. He shifted over in the bed and held out a hand to her. Frankie nervously climbed in next to him. He would see her naked, completely naked this time.

  He moved over her as she leaned back. His pillows were soft. They smelled of clean linen and him. It was intoxicating. His face came close to hers. His eyes mirrored her movements, not letting her gaze waiver from his. He kissed the tip of her nose and she gasped. His lips moved quickly to her throat, her ear. He settled his hips between her thighs and let the weight of his body press against her. Frankie’s hands slid around his back, up to his shoulders. She tried to kiss, lick, nip him any and everywhere possible. The taste of his flesh delighted her tongue. The scent of his body permeated her senses, forever marking his place.

  His hands unclasped the bra, pulled it as he shifted lower. His fingers slid across her skin until he caught each nipple between his thumbs and forefingers. Her sharp intake of breath spurred him on. He rolled the taught nipples and then let one loose as his mouth covered it. Hot. Wet. Insistent. His tongue flicked, his teeth scraped. Frankie was lifting into him, pulling his head down to her. The switch happened quickly, he latched on to the other one and her mind officially checked out as her clit and all things associated with reaching orgasm checked in.

  Her hands were everywhere. His mouth moved and more of his body shifted out of reach as he slid even further down her body. His tongue dipped into her navel. His fingers looped the sides of her underwear and pulled them lower.

  “Damn, you smell good.”

  She had to admit, no one had said that before. She wasn’t opposed to her own scent. She never heard any complaints either, but no one had ever out right said it. She could not see straight in the next moment. His lips moved, kissing her there as she had only dreamed of him kissing her actual lips. Her reasons for not letting him began to blur in her mind. He inserted a long finger and her back arched to improve the angle.

  He was there, on the spot, another finger slid into her body and she was gone. His tongue kept pace, his angle just right inside of her, rubbing everything perfectly. He found it this easy by accident, but he had the sense to do what was working and not try to change it up until she was done. She wasn’t sure if she yelled, cried, stood up and danced a jig, all she knew was the tension in her body wound until finally, it broke. She broke, her orgasm stripped her bare, tore her apart and he slowly stitched her back together again. He didn’t stop, he yielded, slowed down just enough to let her breathe, hear his name on her lips, then knowing the right rhythm the right moves, he launched a new assault and made her come all over again. Not as powerful as the first, but no less pleasurable.

  She needed to catch her breath, she needed to get her hands on some part of his body, she wanted to give him a fraction of what he just gave her. He didn’t move.

  “Jonas,” she panted. She pushed at his head and he lifted long enough to look at her. He wiped his mouth on her thigh, placed a kiss there. The stubble on his cheek scraped her sensitive skin.

  “Yes?” He looked at her pussy, not her face.

  “Don’t you want to…”

  “No,” he said.

  Her break was over. He pushed his fingers into her, settled his tongue on her overly sensitive clit and tormented her by bringing her to the brink, easing off, pulling her back, letting go. She was getting furious from the frustration.

  “Oh, fuck, me.” She said it but didn’t mean it in the get up here and actually fuck sense of the phrase. “Jonas, stop torturing me or I swear I will get you ba…”

  He pulled it from her body as easily as pulling a thread from a sweater. She unraveled there around him. Boneless, tired. He must have been satisfied as he climbed up her body and pulled at her hips motioning her to roll over.

  She rolled and lifted to her knees.

  “Condom.” He knew she had seen the box earlier when she fetched his glasses.

  She reached for the drawer, her arms trembling, her legs barely able to hold her own weight. He stuffed a pillow under her as she passed the condom over her shoulder to him. The sound of the wrapper made her body clench with anticipation.

  The broad head of his cock slid aga
inst her swollen folds. Finding his mark he moved forward, inching into her, pulling back, pushing farther each time. She could not remember the last time she was this full. When her body ached from entry. She was thrilled. She would feel this come morning. It had been so long since she had been thoroughly fucked. In that moment he was no longer a celebrity, no longer an object of desire, he was nothing more than pleasure. He was cock and balls, thrusts, pushes and pulls, the deep ache of a long cock finding the wall and hitting it over and over again.

  She fell forward on her arms, exhausted from the effort. The slightest change and she could feel the rub there, the place only one other man had found, and he wasn’t a man then, not really. A secret spot she thought she had lost somewhere over the course of her life. The years, the age, but there it was, and Jonas was hitting it. She could feel her legs tremble. Hear his breath come faster. The thrusts remained deep, became quicker, harder, she was going to spend and so was he. Eager to come before him she tried to reach, afraid to lose the angle she gave up before getting there. He noticed, and like an angel of mercy he slid a hand around and pressed her clit.

  Her body tensed, released in a wave of euphoric bliss, unlike anything she remembered. It had been a long time since she had fucked anyone. It had been even longer since she had fucked anyone who knew how to fuck. Jonas was worthy. He was the yin and yang, alpha and omega, her world began and ended in that moment of bliss.

  She awoke to a light smacking on the cheeks of her face.

  “Frankie.” He turned her head one way and then the next. “Frankie, wake up.”

  As if coming out of a dream she opened her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” He was frowning down at her.

  “I…mmmm, I’m better than okay.” Her eyes opened, her head hurt just a little. Probably from too much of a rush at once. “That was…you knocked me out, Jonas.”

  “I know,” he winced. “I didn’t realize you had crawled that close to the headboard.”

  “What?” She touched her head and immediately regretted it.

  “I…you…I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. You came. And I mean you came hard. You practically pushed me out of there. When I pushed back in, and I may have been a little overzealous, but in my defense I’d never felt anything like that before. Well I pushed, and bam, you just whacked your head on the headboard and then you were out. You scared me half to death. I thought you broke your neck or something. You were limp, I mean boneless. I could feel a pulse, but you wouldn’t answer me. I was about to call for an ambulance.” He looked so relieved she felt bad for fainting.

  She didn’t feel the hit to the head amidst the bliss. She reached up to touch his cheek. “Did you?”

  “Frankie, I’m already ashamed of myself. I didn’t have time to process everything at once. It took me a minute to realize the extent of what happened.” His face was a full flush of embarrassment.

  “No need to feel that way. I’m fine. Better than fine. You have no idea how much I look forward to feeling the exertion when I wake up in the morning.”

  He shook his head. A slight blush remained on his cheeks. “You’re something else, Francesca MacBeth. I hope I survive this.”

  He rolled to his back bringing her with him to rest her head on his chest. His fingers stroked her hair.

  “Do you want me to go to my room?”

  “No. Not unless you want to go.” He stopped stroking for just a second and then continued.

  “I don’t think I can move on my own at this moment.” Frankie smiled against his warm, damp flesh. She inhaled him deeply, all male, all wonderful.

  “I’d probably drop you, so maybe you should just stay with me tonight,” he said. “Just this once.”

  Chapter Seven

  One Week Later…

  Frankie sat outside on a chase lounge, reading another of the many scripts, as Jonas did laps in his pool.

  “Fran-kie.” He broke her name into two syllables as he called for her attention. He lifted himself up enough to cross his arms and rest on the side of the pool near her. “I think I may cheat today.”

  She let the paper drop just enough to peer at him over the top of it. She wasn’t sure what he had to cheat on.

  “Do you think I should?” He plopped his chin on his arms and looked at her. The sun was to his back, shining down on him. Soon it would be too cold, even in California to get in a normal pool, of course, his was heated.

  “I don’t know. I mean are we talking about cheating on your SAT’s, or on your wife?” She knew he couldn’t see her face and her sunglasses allowed her even more privacy as they had this interesting exchange.

  “First, I doubt I would need to cheat on the SAT’s, because despite the fact that I only attended college for a year, I am a fairly bright lad when I put my mind to it.” He glared at her.

  She smiled behind the paper and waited.

  “Second, you’re the closest thing I have to a wife, Frankie, and since you schedule my life I don’t see how I could cheat on you.” He lifted his head up suddenly as if catching himself. “Not that I’m the kind of guy who cheats…on wives…or…”

  “So then you want to cheat with another assistant? Let someone else handle your schedule?” she teased. He had really fumbled himself into a conversation she was sure he had not planned. Many of their conversations seemed rehearsed in his head before he began them. Most of them were business related or sex related. This was a rare glimpse of him, just being him.

  “How did this…I really only wanted to ask if you wanted to get a burger.” He pushed off the pool and sank into the water.

  Frankie sat the script aside and walked over to where he was. She didn’t stand close enough that he could grab her or else she might end up in the pool again. She took the phone out just in case she needed to toss it aside.

  He resurfaced.

  “I’d love to,” she said. “I’ll grab your towel.”

  Waiting on the man hand and foot was not really her job, but she didn’t mind doing it. Sometimes it gave her something to do. They spent a lot of time in the same house, but not a lot of time together. She spent a lot of time reading. He spent a lot of time re-reading. Lately, he had spent a lot of time with the script for the first film. He was going to need to bulk up for the movie, but he was trying to keep himself at his current weight for award season. She tucked her phone, the one she was given for this job, into the pocket she had sewn on the inside of her shorts. Her shirt covered the top of them, and the phone was small, thin, and sleek enough she didn’t have to worry about it looking bulky. She could have put it in her pocket, but she never wanted to risk anyone picking it out, or worse, it falling out.

  She returned with his towel and opened it up. As he stepped into it he said, “I would never cheat on you with another assistant.”

  She had to laugh.

  She insisted on driving her car because she knew his vehicles, any one of them, would alert people to his presence. If he wanted to eat in LA or some other celebrity hot spot she would gladly ride along, but he wanted to go to her favorite place and get the burger he had coveted since the first time.

  “This car is killing me,” he said as he shifted in the seat.

  “I’ve had this thing since my first year in college.” Frankie looked at the biggest indication of her vehicle’s age, the electronic console, and internally winced. Okay so it was old. So what, it was paid for. Unlike superstars, teachers didn’t get paid enough to change cars on a whim.

  “I didn’t think you were that old, maybe I need to re-do my math.” He slid his hand on the dashboard and then blew on it to indicate dust.

  “Hey!” Frankie said offended. “It’s old, but it’s clean.”

  “It’s cramped up in here. How could you ever have sex in this car?” He pressed back again in the seat and tried to adjust it. “There is barely enough room for my legs in here.”

  “For starters, I have never had sex in this car. Second, we could have ate anywhere in LA. You w
anted to eat here. This is my neighborhood. I am not losing it to a bunch of famous people under the age of fifty and paparazzi.” She took her eyes away from the road to glare at him.

  He crossed his arms and pushed out his lower lip in a pout. What a spoiled brat!

  Seeing that his over exaggeration was getting him nowhere, he tried for empathy. “I can’t help that I’m famous, Frankie.”

  “I know. You poor baby. You want your fans and you want your privacy, too,” she said and patted him on the knee.

  “Exactly.”

  “And as it is my job to try to give you everything you want, sir. You are stuck in this vehicle. The simple fact is, when you want to go somewhere unnoticed, you have to drive something modest,” she quipped.

  “Modest, not ancient.” He gripped the hand she had left unconsciously on his knee and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

  She pulled her hand from his and he actually did pout.

  “Sir, until you decide to buy a modest mode of transportation you can drive, we can go to all the places you draw attention at in your cars. Until then, consider this a history lesson.”

  Frankie looked at him. He was looking at her at with a look of appreciation. An expression she now recognized and saw often on his face. A look she loved to see. A simple gesture that made her panties wet and increased her drive to excel in her work efforts all at the same time.