by Ada Frost
“The muscle guy? He seemed pretty good looking, I’d have thought he had the right...look for the job.”
“He may also have a ten-foot dick and fuck for England, but his attitude was arrogant. I’m not interested in men like that working here.”
“Maybe it was a clash of personalities,” I sniped, because, let’s face it, he was no Mr Chuckles himself.
“Miss Warner, our personalities clash. I wouldn’t have chosen you. Sam saw something within you that would benefit the company. I listened. Here you are gainfully employed, and I agree that you're doing a remarkable job for someone with so little experience. The man who arrived late today had a bad attitude toward his prospective employer, this company, and profession. He wasn’t dismissed today simply because he was late or his bad attitude, he was dismissed because he has a history of violence toward women. The interview was a ruse, which I tried to discuss my plans with Samuel, but he was too busy flirting with you to listen. ”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he wouldn’t keep his hands off of you.” He replied in a frustrated tone.
“I…meant how did you know he has a history of violence?”
“I make it my business to know.” His cheeks reddened and I kind of liked that blush.
When I continued to stare at him, he appeared to realise I wanted more of an explanation.
“Men and women are employed to have sex. It’s my duty to ensure they are safe. Apart from the usual checks of health and age, I also insist on a full criminal screening. It appears the man from today has been charged with assault on a girlfriend, and accused of rape, but the charges were dropped. After contacting his previous studio, they said that he became overly physical during a rough scene and ignored his partner’s limits. I would deduce he has a tendency to hurt women. I am possibly wrong. But I refuse to take any risks. My female actresses do not come here to be abused by colleagues.”
“How did he even get an interview?”
The corners of Lawson’s mouth curved slightly. “Sometimes men like him need to feel the humiliation he causes others. He won’t be working for any reputable company for a long while, and in this business age is against you.”
A strange warmth spread through my chest at his impassioned words. He may appear aloof and unfeeling, but Lawson really did protect his employees.
“He wasn’t that well-endowed. He had no bulge. It was more like a chipolata than a lunchbox.” A grin crept on my face when his lips twitched, and he fought a smile. The man really should smile more.
When I arrived home that night, I was drenched. Just as I left the Stone Industries building, the heavens opened and pissed down. Not just a light shower either, a full blown downpour. What made my heart ache was I was certain Lacey had seen me when she drove her car out of the car park. But when I waved, she turned in the opposite direction and left me to my water walk home. I was certain God was cleansing my soul, washing away the sins of the day. I huddled into my hood-less coat and tried to avoid the deeper of the puddles in my flat pumps. By the time I reached the top of my street, my feet were squelching and my hands were numb with cold. February in Britain fucking sucks gigantic hairy balls. I wished I was somewhere warm. To be honest a nice warm house wouldn’t go amiss today. But I dreaded opening the front door because I knew inside the house would be like an ice box. I had no means of drying my only pair of smart shoes so tomorrow I would have to wear them again to work and pray some of the wetness seeped out. My coat would have to drip in the hallway. I didn’t even want to tackle the issue of my frizzy hair.
I fumbled through my bag for my key, trying hard not to drop my black sack of stolen food when I heard my name called on the wind. At first I ignored it, believing it to be my imagination playing tricks on my frozen brain. Then the sweet voice of my elderly neighbour came over the pouring rain. I stepped back so I could see her front porch. Mrs Sanders was waving at me to go over to her house. She was standing in the doorway with her cardigan pulled tightly around her. I left my black sack in the shelter of the doorway and raced over to her.
“Isn’t this weather dreadful?” she grumbled as I approached.
“Hi, Mrs. Sanders.”
“Oh, you poor thing. Come inside for some hot tea.” The offer was tempting, but I wanted to go home and lick my pathetic wounds.
“I have to get home.”
She nodded and held out a smooth cream box to me. It had a black satin ribbon around it but no note.
“This came for you today, my dear, about ten minutes ago. Oh, and this too.” She lifted a rectangular box from her telephone table and piled it onto the other. “A very smart gentleman delivered them, not the usual postman.”
“Thank you,” I muttered as I turned to leave. I ran across the driveway back onto my porch and pushed the key into the door. When I was safely inside, I discarded my soggy shoes and hung my coat over the door in the hall. I shrugged out of my wet clothes, pulled on my jumper and tracksuit bottoms, and headed for my bedroom, clutching my boxes.
They were so pretty I hardly wanted to open them. It was a little depressing that my life consisted of work, then returning home to an empty house where the only thing I could do was huddle in my bed to try and keep warm. It was so cold I didn’t even need to use a fridge. Milk had been sitting in there a few days and was still cold without any electricity.
I stroked my hand over the longer of the two boxes, loving the velvet feel to it. When I opened it, I gasped in wondrous surprise.
“Oh my God.”
I covered my mouth with one hand as I reached with the other to pull out the exquisite shoes. They were black satin platform sandals with gorgeous satin bows at the heel. They were so elegantly pretty. I placed them back inside the box like they were glass and reached for the other parcel. I tugged on the end of the ribbon, pulling the bow apart before opening the delicate box. As I separated the tissue paper inside, emotion swelled inside me at the sight of the stunning lingerie. Dark green satin with black lace frill bottoms and matching bra. I had never, not once, worn anything so pretty. My underwear came from ASDA or Primark, not somewhere nice enough that it was parcelled in fancy boxes. I fingered the straps, loving the feel. I pulled out the cream card embossed with gold edging.
Miss Warner
I couldn’t bring myself to return the purple pair.
Heat spread through me at a rapid pace. My heart beat wildly. I traced my finger over his scrawled handwriting, loving the cursive strokes. My cheeks were aching from the grin plastered on my face. My cold-hearted detached boss had picked out something quite beautiful with me in mind. Unless he had a stash of sexy lingerie in random sizes for his secretaries at home, which I doubted.
Curling into my sheets, I laid the boxes beside me like one would a cuddly teddy, and stared at them. Eventually I drifted to sleep with the luscious thoughts of how I would let him know I was wearing his gifts. The shoes would be easy.
I would need to be creative with the lingerie.
When I entered the office, it was so wonderfully quiet and still. No bustle or constant phones chiming. I placed my freshly dry-cleaned suit on the hanger behind the door, ready for after my workout, and headed down to the gym. My shoulders were tense, and my head was foggy. But that was due to lack of sleep.
Yesterday, I stepped over the line. I’d pushed a boundary I had never even thought of crossing before. All because of Miss Warner and those little purple knickers. I was ashamed to admit they were completely ruined for her now. After going home restless and completely hard, I’d had to use those fucking things to get myself off, numerous times. I could smell her on them, and each time I slid them over my cock I envisioned her tight little body writhing on top me, taking me in her mouth. Riding me.
Groaning loudly, I punched the bag harder. The sickening thought that I was turning into my perverted father angered me. I refused to be anything like him. My goal in life was to succeed him, not be the same.
At this time of the morn
ing the gym was always dead. None of the crew used this place before lunch. Most used it after work, or just before a scene so they looked pumped.
“If you don’t loosen your shoulder, you’re going to hurt something. Relax into the punch,” Samuel barked behind me. I stepped away pulling the gloves from my hands.
“It isn’t working today,” I huffed, heading over to the rowing machine. My head wasn’t in the game at all, so I kept things light. I refused to fuck my body up even if my head was a mess right now.
“So when are you paying up?”
“Huh?”
“You owe me a grand. Our little bet.”
I grunted as I stretched a few more times. “You said I’d fuck her. I haven’t.”
“Fuck off, we said—”
“The terms were that I would beg for her pussy by the end of the month.”
“True.”
“I have yet to beg for anything.”
“You cheating bastard, you were panting for her fucking fanny.”
“But at any time did you hear me beg?”
“Fuck off.”
“Did I in fact touch her?”
“Lawson, you’re lying to yourself.”
“I cannot help it, Samuel, if you do not clarify the terms of your bet. As far as I am aware, I still stand to take your money.” I gasped as my muscles burned. My body was in torture today; it wasn’t going to be a successful session. Samuel worked on the wide stance leg press as I guzzled my bottled water.
“I’m hitting the shower,” I grunted, slapping my towel on the machine as I walked away. I needed a hot shower and to release some of this fucking tension, either that or a good shag. Heading back to my office, I couldn’t wait to get under the spray.
The water was a nice balm to my muscles. When I closed my eyes and let the water hit my face, all I could see was Miss Warner. I wondered if she would wear her new gifts. Would she throw them back at me and sue me for sexual harassment? Maybe she’d return them for the money. They cost enough. Who the fuck knew women’s shoes and some skimpy lace would cost more than Samuel’s fucking bet? It was an idiotic idea, but when I had driven past the boutique last night on my way home, I couldn’t resist. I had seen the perfect set and knew Miss Warner’s arse would look amazing. It was only right after all since I’d stolen her other pair.
When I’d finally had enough under the water, washed and feeling a little more invigorated, I stepped out and wrapped a fresh white towel around my waist. I still hadn’t gotten over Miss Warner smelling of my soap. Of me. I was partly disappointed I hadn’t caught her in here again.
“Shit,” I griped when I realised I’d left my bag out in the office with my clean boxers and shirt inside, along with my suit on the hanger. I opened the bathroom door and stepped out only to pause when I noticed Miss Warner sitting on the leather couch in my office wearing her new heels and very little else.
“Good morning,” she purred.
Jesus, my imagination was lacking because the actual physical sight of her in the lingerie was breathtaking. Her curves filled the green satin perfectly. Her eyes sparkled, highlighted by the satin. Her hair was tied up in her usual scrappy knot. Her legs were crossed, one foot bouncing slightly over the knee of the other while her hands brushed over the leather of the couch.
“Stand,” I demanded, hoping she didn’t hear the croak in my voice. I needed an unobstructed view of her. Her eyes tracked down my chest, lingering on my tight nipples. Like any prick who worked out, I tensed, letting her see how my hard work paid off. I wasn’t overly pumped, making me look like a carpet carrier, but I definitely had shit to be proud of.
“Turn.” I lifted my hand and twirled my finger in a circular motion. “Slowly.” She pivoted on those fuck-me heels, keeping her gaze on me as she turned. I shouted to stop, so her perfect arse was facing me. Turning her head to look over her shoulder she bit her plump bottom lip, and a small grin curved the corners of that lush mouth.
“Bend.” I swallowed when the little minx smiled coyly at me over her shoulder and leaned forward. She braced her hands on the back of the sofa, giving me a spectacular view of her legs and arse.
“Do you like what you see, Mr Stone?” she asked in a smoky whisper.
Like what I see? I was ready to blow my load against the cotton towel. My cock tented the fabric, causing a small gap. It definitely wouldn’t be the last parcel I would send her. In fact I may open an account.
I stepped forward, needing to touch her. Standing behind her, I placed my hands on her hips. Her heels made her the perfect height to align with me. I pushed against her, positioning my cock against the crease of her arse. Her skin was so incredibly smooth.
“I'm going to fuck you.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“I’m going to slide inside this sweet little cunt and fuck you until you scream.”
Her answering whimper was a siren’s call to my dick.
I slid my hands up her back, loving the trail of goose pimples I made. Sliding them over her ribs, I cupped her breasts. I moved one hand to her throat and used that to pull her back against me.
“The lingerie looks amazing but it is a barrier. I don’t like that.”
“What?” she rasped, her palms flat against my thighs.
“I want to see you. It needs to go.” I pulled at one of the cups, exposing one breast, and pinched her nipple. “You cannot hide from me.”
As if understanding my intention, that I was about to rip the satin away from her body, she slid her hands between us and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
“Now the knickers,” I commanded, keeping a tight hold on her body. I roughly tugged at my towel, putting nothing between us. The head of my cock pushed between her arse cheeks. I groaned loudly when she hooked her fingers into the side of her underwear and bent forward, giving me her full arse. I rubbed the head of my dick over the smooth cheeks on her backside, loving the reddened tip against her creamy skin.
“Brace your hands on the sofa and open your legs.” Like a good girl she followed instruction. I kneeled and buried my face in her pussy. She cried out when my tongue touched her clit.
“So responsive,” I whispered, blowing against her heated flesh. My cock ached it was so fucking hard. But I wouldn’t touch it. I wanted the first touch to be by her. She would swallow my cock in that perfect little mouth.
Her pleasure built quickly, she was so fucking ready. My mouth was coated in her arousal. When she was close, I thrust two fingers inside her, pulling a cry from her lips. I crooked my fingers hitting that perfect little sweet spot. I sucked her clit into my mouth and pumped my fingers in unison. The sweet fucking cry that burst from her lips had my cock throbbing in anticipation of getting inside her.
I needed more time, time I didn’t have in the office to enjoy her delectable body. I was a very controlled man, to the point of excessive, and not since I was a teenager have I allowed my cock to rule me. But I was about a second away from pulling her to the floor and fucking her until neither of us could walk. That lack of control, or fear of losing it, had a semblance of sanity clawing its way into my conscience. When the last of her orgasm throbbed against my mouth, I moved from underneath her, intent on pushing inside her from behind.
The sound of a door closing down the corridor grabbed my attention.
“Someone is coming,” she uttered a startled gasp. There was no way I wasn’t getting inside her pussy. My dick had been in agony for days. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her toward the bathroom. Her fuck-me heels clicked against the floor as she scurried behind me. Once in the bathroom I pulled her in and closed the door, locking it. Pressing my back to the wood.
“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.” Her slow smile was beautiful. She glanced down at my erection, giving it a pointed look.
I crooked my finger at her, beckoning her toward me. Her tits bounced with each step, and those fucking legs in those heels
were killing me. I wrapped my arm around her back and pulled her flush against me, stealing her mouth. Her lips were warm and soft against mine. I pushed my tongue through her lips, parting them so I could take more.
Her dainty hands slid into my hair, tangling and pulling.
“Lawson Stone, are you defiling our employees in there?”
“Mother fucker,” I gasped at Samuel’s intrusion. Miss Warner stared into my eyes. I expected her to withdraw. Hide and try to play off being caught. But the mischief that lit her gaze had my cock throbbing against her thigh. She pressed her pointer finger to her lips, instructing me to be quiet as she dropped her haunches.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed, barely above a whisper as her plump lips pressed against my tip.
Another knock at the door had me fisting my hands.
“Go away, Samuel, your assistance isn’t required,” I snarled.
“You are no fun. Did your parents not teach you to share?”
“No, now fuck off,” I shouted when Abigail’s mouth sucked me deep. My balls tightened, and I pushed my hands through her hair, holding her to me.
“Abby, baby, make him beg. Please, for all that is good in the world make the bastard beg.”
She released the most delightful giggle around my cock, forcing a pained moan from me. My head banged against the wood behind me.
Her warm wet mouth worked me into a frenzy. I was moments away from filling her mouth with cum, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted inside her. I needed it. Tugging at her hair gently. I urged her away and beckoned for her to stand. Reaching over to the vanity draw. I pulled out a new box of condoms.
“Turn around, Abigail. I want to watch you while I fuck you.” She did as instructed and faced the large mirror over the sink. Bracing her hands on the wooden counter, she opened her legs hip width apart in anticipation for me. Standing behind her, I fisted my cock and wrapped one hand over her shoulder to hold her steady. I aligned my cock and met her eyes in the mirror.