I pull a condom out of my pocket and rip it open with my teeth, handing it to her as I shove my pajama pants down and spring my aching cock free. “Put it on me.”
Stella grips my cock, softly stroking me with delicate fingers that don’t quite reach all the way around. I don’t know why, but it’s fucking hot.
Like I’m too much for her to handle.
I hiss in a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “Condom. Now.”
“I can’t play with you first?”
I open my eyes to see a coy smile flirting with the edge of her lips. “I’m past the point of playing. Put it on or I’m gonna fuck you without it.”
I mean it, too, which shocks the hell out of me. I’m normally very careful about practicing safe sex.
I have to be, since I have a target on my back for potential gold diggers who are looking for the ultimate payout—getting knocked up.
But with Stella… Christ, just the thought of coming in that tight pussy and watching her flat belly swell with my child has a milky bead of pre-cum leaking from my tip.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The corner of her lip curves into a smirk. “Yes, sir.”
I groan as she rolls the condom down my shaft. “Spread your legs and lie back.”
She leans back on her elbows, giving me a fan-fucking-tastic view of her body spread out before me. Her bald pussy glistens with arousal, her little pink lips parted enough to show me the tiny hole I’m about to stretch and fill.
My cock twitches, my mouth watering. I want to suck her little clit into my mouth and fuck her with my tongue, but it’s got to wait.
Right now I need to come.
I grip the base of my shaft and run my head along her pussy, parting her folds as I coat my cock in her juices. She hitches in a breath when I slide it around her clit and lightly slap it with my dick.
Wedging the tip at her entrance, I start to push in, feeling her muscles resist me every step of the way. “Relax, sweetheart.” My heart’s pounding in my ears as I press my thumb to her clit, teasing the little bud with sloppy circles.
Stella throws her head back, her panting breaths filling the kitchen as I flick her clit and slowly work my cock into her pussy. My brows slam together as I watch it sink inside her impossibly snug, pink folds, her pussy lips stretched so tight around my dick that I’m surprised she hasn’t ripped.
When I’m buried to the hilt and my balls are flush against her ass, I let out a shaky breath. She’s so tight and so fucking warm I know I’m not going to last long.
Stella clenches around me, making my hands grip her hips as I bite out a string of curses. Slowly, I start to fuck her, getting her used to my size.
Her tits bounce each time I thrust. I reach up, palming one, rubbing my thumb around her nipple as I watch her bite her lip, her eyes sliding closed.
“Faster,” she breathes. “I need you to fuck me faster.”
I move my hand back to her hip, gripping her tight as I fuck her harder, faster, my cock pistoning in and out of her in rough, shallow thrusts. The sound of our skin slapping together fills the kitchen, along with the sound of Stella’s stuttering breaths.
“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—” Stella’s warning morphs into a moan as she clamps down on my cock, her pussy constricting so tight it’s like it’s trying to push me out.
Watching her come—feeling her come on my cock as she spasms around me—sets me off. I groan, feeling my balls draw up as wave after wave of cum pumps out of my cock and into her pussy. My fingers dig into her hips as I hold her still, my hips jerking as I thrust into her once, twice.
When I finally stop coming, I lean forward, resting my sweaty forehead against her chest as my cock twitches inside her.
I love how small she is to my big. I normally go for taller women, but there’s something about how petite she is that I just fucking love.
I press a kiss to her breast, nuzzling my nose against her skin as I grow sleepy and euphoric. I want to carry her to bed and fuck her again, slower this time so I can really enjoy it. But I’d settle for falling asleep with her wrapped in my arms.
The thought is instantly sobering.
It’s bad enough I just fucked my new assistant, but now I want to cuddle her to sleep?
Again, what the hell?
Slipping out of her, I reach behind me and grab a paper towel, taking the condom off and cleaning myself. I pull my pajama pants up and toss the wadded paper in the trash. “You can let yourself out, right?”
I hate myself right now.
Stella closes her legs and awkwardly sits up. “Yeah,” she says, frowning.
I pick up her dress from the floor and hand it to her. “Goodnight, Miss Moretti.”
I head out of the kitchen, berating myself all the way upstairs for letting this happen.
FIVE
Stella
I stare at my phone, rereading Clayton’s text.
I feel like eating out for lunch. Bring me my usual from Laraby’s. Say 12:30?
Really? Those are his first words to me since kicking me out last night?
Are we just going to pretend like he didn’t call me over for a midnight booty call and then fuck me senseless on his kitchen island? That’s what he seems to be doing, and if that’s what he wants, then fine.
I can pretend that I don’t know what his cock looks like. I can pretend that I don’t know how deliciously full it makes me feel when he sinks it inside me, or how it feels to have him fuck me with it, how hard it makes me come.
I can pretend like he didn’t give me the best sex of my life last night.
The question is, can he?
He’s obviously a very mercurial man. I’m willing to bet last night wasn’t a one-time thing, not with how desperate he was to fuck me. The only thing I don’t understand is what set him off. What made him go from sweet and almost tender to cold and distant in the blink of an eye?
Was it something I did?
I mean, I didn’t expect to stay the night or anything, but I also didn’t expect to be so casually dismissed afterward. Like I was just a toy that he was done playing with.
A sinking feeling settles over me as I recall something my aunt Brenda said.
Didn’t she say he had a lot of assistants? Maybe this is what he does with them.
Not all of them, obviously, because Brenda is head over heels in love with Paul and I can’t imagine her doing anything to jeopardize that. But it’s not unreasonable to think that he’s fucking at least some of them.
Hell, he fucked me on my first day.
I feel stupid. And used.
Anger bubbles inside me as I type out a response and hit send.
Yes, sir.
If he wants to play dirty, then he better get ready. I’m about to sling a whole pile of mud on him.
***
The receptionist’s eyes widen as soon as I step off the elevator, my strappy sandal heels clicking on the tile floor as I stop at the front desk. “Can I help you?” she asks tentatively, her eyes darting down my outfit like she’s not sure what to make of me.
I don’t blame her. My dress is more “Kylie Jenner” and less “appropriate daytime wear” but it’s all part of the plan.
“I’m Mr. Castle’s new assistant, Stella. I have his lunch,” I say, holding up the brown paper bag emblazoned with Laraby’s logo on the side.
She forces a polite smile and picks up the phone, pushing a button. A second later she whispers, “Mr. Castle, there’s a Stella here for you. She says she has your lunch.” Whatever he says next makes her glance up at me as she says, “Yes, sir. I’ll send her back.”
She hangs up the phone and points out the direction of his office. I thank her, feeling her eyes and judgment following me as I walk away.
If she thinks this is bad, then she’d have herself a little judgmental field day if she knew what Mr. Castle and I did last night. I smirk at the thought and make my way back to his office, drawing stares the whole way.
I knock on the door as I push it open the rest of the way, their eyes swinging up and then right back down as they rake over my body. I grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Clayton’s eyes darken as he scowls. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us.”
I set my purse and the bag of food on his desk as he ushers them out, telling them he’ll be in touch before closing the door. When he turns around, he looks downright murderous.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“What, this?” I play dumb as I smooth my hands down my hips. “It’s a dress.”
“It’s fucking lingerie, is what it is.” He stalks back to his desk and sits down, leaning back in his chair as the muscle along his jaw flits.
I frown. “You don’t like it? Well, maybe there’s an employee handbook I could read. You know, something that spells out the dress code and how many times a week I can expect my boss to give me a late night booty call.” His eyes squeeze shut as I continue my tirade. “Could we at least try and keep it before midnight next time? I seem to turn into a real bitch when I don’t get enough sleep.”
He swallows, straightening his back as he scoots his chair toward his desk. “It won’t happen again. You have my word.”
“Good.” I grab my purse, getting ready to storm out. “Just text one of your other sexretaries for your late night pussy needs, ’cause mine’s off-limits now.”
“Wait, what?” I pause and watch him stand from his desk so fast his chair skitters backward. “You think I’m fucking my other assistants?”
I did. His reaction, however, is quickly making me second-guess myself. “You fucked me,” I point out.
He rests his hands on his desk and hangs his head. “That’s the one and only time I’ve crossed the line with an employee. It’s not— It’s not something I’m proud of.”
He felt guilty. That’s why his mood changed so abruptly last night.
I open my mouth, about to apologize when he straightens his tie and sits back down.
“I assure you, it won’t happen again, Miss Moretti.”
We’re back to last names now? Back to being cold and formal?
I bite my lip, remembering just how hot and informal he was last night. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more of that. But if he really feels this bad about it, I don’t want to make things worse.
Brenda said he’s a great boss, and I believe her. I also believe we can salvage this and—given enough time—have a normal, professional relationship without any awkwardness.
But I at least want him to know the option to have something … extra is still on the table. At least for me.
“I’m sorry I assumed the worst, Mr. Castle. And if you say it won’t happen again, I believe you. But at the risk of being unprofessional, I just want to say that … it’d be okay with me if it did.”
He glances up at me, his expression inscrutable.
I shrug. “I’m here to assist you, sir. In any capacity.”
Leaning back in his chair, a tiny smirk curls the corner of his lips. “I thought you said it was off-limits.”
“That’s when I thought you went around fucking your employees indiscriminately.”
“What if I go around fucking the general population indiscriminately?”
I bite the inside of my lip, not having thought of that. “Do you?”
He stands up and smooths his tie as he walks toward me. “Is this your way of asking if I’m sleeping with anyone else?”
My lips purse before I jut my chin out. “Yes.” Might as well own it.
He slips behind me, brushing my hair behind my shoulder to expose my neck. “Yes, what?”
My breath leaves me on a shaky exhale when I feel his cock prod my ass, his breath washing over the shell of my ear. “Yes, sir.”
His fingers brush my thigh as they slip under the front of my dress, rubbing me through my panties. “No, Miss Moretti,” he murmurs into my ear. “I’m not currently fucking anyone else. Are you?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut when he slips under the lace and starts massaging my clit. My breath catches as I lean back into him. “No, sir. Just you.”
His free hand comes up and palms my breast, squeezing it through the satiny fabric before yanking it down and exposing me. “And are you going to keep it that way?” he asks, lightly plucking my nipple as he licks and kisses my neck.
“Yes, sir,” I moan, lost in every sensation he’s giving me.
“Good girl. Now put your hands on the desk.” He shoves my panties down my hips then a second later I hear the sound of his belt buckle, followed by his zipper.
I look over my shoulder, watching him tear into a condom and roll it down his cock before he grabs my hips and slams into me.
My teeth knock together as a sharp pinch radiates from between my legs. I hold onto his desk for support as he rams into me, grunting out curses.
“Tell me again that my cock is the only one allowed inside this pussy.”
“It’s the only one I want,” I breathe, feeling a gradual warmth replace the sharp sting the longer he fucks me. And when he reaches around to play with my clit, I moan, feeling my pussy tighten as I start the descent into madness.
A madness only he can give me.
He stretches me so wide it almost hurts, but at the same time it feels so good. He hits every nerve, no depth left untouched. It’s more than Donnie or any toy ever made me feel.
I spread my legs as far as they’ll go while they’re trapped inside my panties, leaning forward until my forearms are flat on his desk. He abandons my clit to grip my hips and a curious thing happens.
I feel his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust.
It’s a foreign feeling, but not unpleasant.
In fact, it feels pretty damn good.
Pretty soon I’m so wet that my pussy is making a suctioning sound with every thrust. Coupled with the sound of his skin furiously slapping against mine, the feel of his cock pounding into me, and the incessant tap, tap, tap of his balls against my clit, I feel my orgasm fast approaching.
“Your cock is the only thing that makes me come this hard,” I breathe between shallow pants. “I fucking love it. I— Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes.”
He grabs my hair and pulls my head back as his hips slam against my ass. “Yes, what?” he growls.
The change in position drags his cock along my front wall, hitting that spot that makes me go cross-eyed, making pleasure detonate from inside my pussy like a fucking hand grenade. “Yes, sir!” I scream, clenching around him as I come.
And come.
And come.
His pace is relentless as I spasm around his thick cock, gasping for air as my clit throbs for what feels like forever. I don’t know how he does it, but he milks my orgasm from me second by second, demanding I give him every tremble, every uneven breath, every ounce of silky wetness that gushes from my pussy.
“Fuck,” he grunts, releasing my hair to grab my hips again. He slams into me, his cock jerking before he shudders and leans his head against my shoulder. His heavy breaths are the only sound in the quiet office as his cock twitches inside me. “Your pussy feels so perfect wrapped around my cock,” he murmurs. “I don’t ever want to leave it.”
He presses a kiss to my shoulder and pulls out, leaving me dazed in more ways than one.
That was almost … affectionate.
My hands are shaky as I pull up my panties. I fix my dress, watching him take some tissue from his desk and clean himself off.
After throwing the condom away, he tucks himself back into his slacks and adjusts his shirt. “I have a late dinner this evening, but I should be home around ten. I’ll see you then?”
Surprised, I nod, trying to find my voice. “Yes, sir.”
Without looking up, he d
ismisses me. “That’s all, Miss Moretti.”
Mercurial, indeed.
I grab my purse and head for the door, swinging it open to find everyone’s eyes already on me. My steps falter.
Shit.
I wasn’t exactly quiet…
My cheeks heat as I keep my head down, doing the walk of shame through Clayton Castle’s office building at one o’clock in the afternoon.
Well, so much for my plan.
SIX
Stella
To my surprise, Clayton’s already home by the time I walk into his condo at 9:45. He’s in the kitchen when I come in, looking relaxed with his tie loosened and the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his forearms.
He puts a black Styrofoam box into the fridge and asks, “Have you eaten?”
I bite my lip, suddenly feeling awkward. How messed up is it that him being nice to me is actually throwing me off? “I can get something on the way home,” I say.
“Nonsense. Sit.” He pats the counter—the same spot where he fucked me last night—and grabs a plate from the cabinet. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Oookay…
I hop onto the counter, wincing at the cold granite beneath my thighs.
Did he have a stroke? Bump his head? Why is he suddenly so … normal?
“Mustard? Mayo?” he asks from the fridge.
“Mayo,” I say quietly.
This is weird. This is really, really weird.
He grabs a knife from the cutlery block sitting on his counter and cuts the sandwich in half, then hands me the plate.
“Thanks.”
“What would you like to drink?”
Something stiff. That should make this less awkward. “Water’s fine.”
He opens the fridge again and grabs a Perrier, twisting the cap off before sitting the bottle next to me. “How is it?” he asks.
I nod, mumbling around the food in my mouth, “Good.” And it really is. He’s got the fancy sourdough bread.
All we keep at home is Wonder.
“You want some chips? A pickle?”
I smile and shake my head. I could get used to Clayton Castle waiting on me hand and foot. “I’m fine.”
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