by Sam Crescent
“Cancel it.” He didn’t even lift his head.
“How am I supposed to cancel at the last minute?” She wasn’t going to give in just like that. He was going to hear her out whether he liked it or not.
But Nathan was just as stubborn as she. “Find a way. It’s not my problem. I’ll see you here tomorrow at nine. Pack for a busy weekend and read the memo, it’ll tell you what you need.” He dismissed her, lifting up his phone to dial an associate.
Anya thought about waiting it out, to see if he really was calling someone and not just doing it to get rid of her. Instead she nodded, simmering to herself, took the memo and quietly left his office, closing the door without making a sound.
Sitting behind her desk, she grabbed her bag, pulling out her ticket and the file about her planned pleasure weekend. Tomorrow she was supposed to be leaving for a small, isolated mansion, where every little lust and desire the body craved could be experienced, along with the promise of total anonymity. The ticket alone would have left most people crying at the cost. She could only just afford it on her salary.
She sighed. It was a good job the ticket could be used on any weekend over the course of a month. But her ticket was for December, one of the busiest times of the year, which meant her time was already in short supply.
Anya usually went for the first weekend of the month, but overtime at work, along with life in general, had got the better of her this month, so she had been planning to spend the second weekend of December at her erotic hideaway. Had been, until her domineering boss had demanded her presence on his stupid team-building weekend. He said, “Jump,” and she had no choice but to say, “How high?” Anya took pride in her work, but sometimes being the best personal assistant was a pain in the arse. The reward for good work was more work. Shaking her head in disappointment, she reflected that at least there were still two weekends left after this work-together-better nonsense or whatever he wanted to call it. She folded up her ticket and placed it carefully back in her bag.
She could survive this weekend, but she would need reinforcements. Sexual reinforcements.
It had been too long. She could feel the ache pulsing through her body. The need to be fucked hard and to be sated by several men, or at least one man, was strong. She could sense the tension close to the surface, a tension that only a weekend of hard sex could relieve. She rubbed her hands down her skirt, feeling the ache a simple touch could evoke, the ache she loved
She smiled, wondering what her very conservative boss would think of his personal assistant having sexy weekends away. Dirty, hot, sweaty, sex-filled weekends. Going by the rumours, this guy was a one-position—the missionary position—kind of guy. To Anya that sounded, plain and simply boring.
Poor Nathan. Sexy as he was, some men had it and some men obviously didn’t.
Anya took another deep breath and began working, trying to immerse herself in paperwork. Business always did have the desired effect. Within minutes, files were being consulted and contacts were being made, sex a distant thought in the back of her mind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine, sir.” Anya popped her head through his office door at seven that evening, when she had completed all of her work and managed to get in some paid overtime as well. She had a bright smile on her face, a contrast to earlier, when her face had conveyed the annoyance she’d felt at the time.
He nodded.
“Where are we going?” Curiosity always did get the better of her.
“Buxton in Derbyshire. A beautiful place.”
“Sounds wonderful. Night night,” she called, moving away.
She just had time to hit the shops for a bit of Christmas shopping.
Special office Secret Santa. Everybody’s names would be put into a basket and, one by one, they’d pick out a name. The idea was to buy a gift for the person whose name you pulled out. And—just her luck—she’d managed to pick Nathan. Karma, or what?
She loved her work, she loved the company. It was just the boss. He was a stuck-up workaholic. If he’d only relax a little, he would find a whole new world of possibilities.
Relax a bit. She smiled as she had the perfect present idea.
Chuckling, she walked out onto the busy street. Christmas shoppers were everywhere, looking for bargains, trying to buy those perfect Christmas presents for family and friends. Soon Anya was caught up in the hustle and bustle, immersing herself in the Christmas glow.
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
Nathan watched Anya disappear into the crowds below his window, relief pulsing through him. He couldn’t lie—he’d been expecting an outburst of some kind. Not asking her permission before booking the damn trip had been a test. He made his way through his office, nodding at his cleaning staff. He passed the lift and went straight for the stairs, running down them at speed to his parked car.
He smiled, beeping open the dark, sleek Bentley—a beaut, one of his finer purchases in life.
Once behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition, savouring the power as the engine roared to life. He was all about power, all about dominating in the work place and at home.
Nathan was on the look-out for a truly amazing submissive. A woman who could speak her mind, whom he could go toe-to-toe with in everyday life, but who in the bedroom would be hot, wet, ready and willing, no questions asked. Sheer obedience.
Someone like Anya King, he mused to himself, would surely be too prudish, efficient and business-minded as she was. And too bossy and difficult to let him fuck her body senseless many times a night, any way, anyhow he wanted.
He imagined Anya’s sex life—if she had one, that was—to be boring. She might even still be a virgin. Not something he gave much thought to, if he was truthful. There were many more women out there, and they were always ready to fill his fantasies and his bed.
He thought about what it was like to have a woman begging for him. Well—begging for anyone. The fun was rather spoilt when he realised his partner was begging not for Nathan but for a dominant, any dominant. Asking for nothing but to be taken by whoever was available at the time.
He shook his head. No, he wanted one woman. One woman who would be totally satisfied with him and him alone in the bedroom and in her life. Who would trust him with her body, trust him to guarantee she’d receive the ultimate pleasure if she only submitted to him. His cock ached for her, whoever she might be. His soul yearned. He would find her, of that he was determined. Certain.
He drove through the streets, thankful the holiday season was almost upon them. Having family around was important, and he intended to spend his holiday with his family. Briefly, his curiosity got the better of him and he wondered what his oh-so efficient assistant had planned for the Christmas season. He quickly stemmed the thought. Work stayed at work and sex stayed in the bedroom. No more dirty thoughts about his PA.
An hour later, after hitting some heavy traffic, he parked in the underground parking area available with his flat. He nodded to the doorman and proceeded to the lift that would take him straight up to his penthouse suite. The view overlooking London city was truly spectacular around the festive season.
Nathan poured himself a shot of dark whisky and for several moments took in the sights he paid handsomely for. The liquor burned the back of his throat, the delicious intensity giving him a buzz. He loosened his tie, closing his curtains, shutting out the world. Peace descended on him, quiet and tranquil. Closing his eyes, he rested on the sofa, leaning back, allowing the tight knots to work out of his shoulders and back, the pulsing headache to ease as he relaxed his entire body.
He sighed. Having a woman to work out the kinks in his body would be even better.
He checked the time. Nine-thirty glowed at him from his digital clock. Groaning, he stood up, stretching, and moved to his bedroom where a suitcase lay filled with the weekend’s clothes. Sweaters, light trousers—in case he got wet they would dry quickly in the cold air. He smiled in gratitude, thankful for the laundry service. T
hey would be receiving a healthy Christmas bonus this year.
After a shower he added his toiletries to the bag and zipped it up, leaving it on his chair until the morning.
It was going to be a long weekend.
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About the Author
Sam Crescent has always had a love of fiction; through her teen years she would find friendship between the pages rather than in an actual person. By the time she turned sixteen she discovered Mills and Boon and never looked back. She loved the quick happily-ever-after read. A guarantee that, no matter what happened, the heroes and heroines would always find their soulmate. After college and starting a degree, one lonely, bored night she searched the internet looking for a new author to read. On that night, and in the years to come, she discovered romantica and erotic writing.
Email: [email protected]
Sam loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
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