He sticks his hands in his pockets as he smiles almost imperceptibly. “I’m gonna jump in the shower while you finish eating. Take your time.”
I nod and watch him head upstairs.
That man is giving me whiplash with his hot and cold attitude.
I finish my sandwich and half the bottle of Perrier. Clayton comes back not too long after, his hair wet and his pajama pants slung low.
His shirt is suspiciously absent. Not that I’m complaining.
He’s got an amazing body.
My eyes trace every dip of his six-pack, right down to the “V” of his hips that disappears into his pajamas, leading my eyes south like a flashing neon arrow.
I want to lick every fucking inch of him.
I swallow, feeling my whole body flush as he stands between my legs. He rests his hands on the countertop beside me, boxing me in.
Good God, he smells good.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“You’re awfully talkative tonight,” I counter.
“Am I?” There’s that smile again. The tiny one that makes my stomach flutter and makes me want to grab his face and kiss him stupid.
Instead of doing that, I nod. “It’s kind of weird.” I laugh when his face falls, like I just kicked his puppy or something. “I just mean that…” I bite my lip, brushing my fingers along his muscular forearms. “I don’t know, it’s hard to talk to you if you’re not in boss-mode or you’re not inside me.”
“Boss-mode?”
“You know … cold. Distant.”
He scowls and steps back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It just comes naturally, apparently.” Sighing he resumes his spot between my legs, running his hands up my thighs. “I’ve never had a sexual relationship with one of my employees. I don’t know where work ends and this,” he says, gesturing between us, “begins. Just … be patient with me.”
My mouth twists to the side as I play with the drawstrings of his pajama pants. “You’re not very patient with me.”
He lifts my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him. “No, I am not a very patient man when it comes to you. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”
“Why not?”
Bringing his thumb up, he grazes my lips. “It’s hard to regret thinking you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, or that my cock is always half-hard whenever you’re around. I’m impatient, Miss Moretti, because I suddenly find myself miserable if my dick’s not buried in your pussy.”
My fingers dip under his waistband, finding him hard, hot, and ready for me. “Then you must feel awful right now,” I murmur, stroking his cock as I suck his thumb into my mouth.
Clayton groans. “Absolutely abysmal.”
Popping his finger out of my mouth, he grabs my face and kisses me. He steals my breath and any attempt at rational thought. All I can do is sit here and grip his cock as his mouth fucks mine, his hands wandering between my legs as he rubs my pussy through my cotton shorts.
Pulling back, he groans. “From now on you’re only allowed to wear skirts or dresses. Nothing should keep me away from this,” he says, slipping his fingers under my shorts and panties to massage my clit.
I nod in agreement as I pull his cock out of his pants. “Yes, sir. Duly noted.”
He moves lower, getting his fingers wet with my juices before circling my clit again. I spread my legs as far as I can, scooting to the edge of the counter.
His fingers push inside me, and instead of feeling pleasure, all I feel is pain.
“Ow.” I wince.
Clayton frowns. “What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling out of me.
“I’m kind of sore,” I say, feeling hugely disappointed.
His face softens. “Was I too rough on you this afternoon?”
I shrug, sheepishly admitting, “You’re a lot bigger than I’m used to.”
This makes him grin. “Let me kiss it better,” he says, placing a kiss on the tip of my nose as he turns and swoops me into his arms. He carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs like something out of Gone with the Wind.
“We’re actually doing this in a bed? Mr. Castle, you spoil me.”
Clayton rolls his eyes as he walks us across his bedroom and unceremoniously tosses me on his mattress. I yelp as the bed shakes. He climbs on the bed and grabs me behind the knees, yanking me toward him.
Gone are his smile and any traces of humor. In its place is a look so dark, so heated, it makes my pussy clench in anticipation.
This is impatient Clayton.
Bossy Clayton.
He hooks his fingers inside my shorts and pulls everything down my hips. I lift my ass to help him and then he tosses my clothes aside.
“Take it off,” he says, nodding to my shirt as he slips his pajama pants down and kicks them off.
He strokes his cock as I sit up and take off my shirt, tossing it aside before unhooking my bra and losing that too. He crawls over to me, kissing me deeply—thoroughly—as I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him atop me.
His cock grinds against me, rubbing my clit in slow, torturous thrusts as he kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He moves lower and sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth, making my breath tangle in my throat as he flicks his tongue across the stiff peak.
Popping it out of his mouth, he kisses a path down my stomach, to my pubic mound, and keeps moving lower until his tongue swirls around my clit.
I let out a strangled gasp and grip his hair as he sucks me into his mouth, my back arching off the bed. He releases me with a loud pop and flicks his tongue back and forth, teasing my clit.
Spreading my legs as wide as I can, I lift my head, watching his mouth fuck my pussy. He glances up at me, smiling wickedly as his tongue laps at my glistening clit before sucking it back into his mouth.
I moan, grabbing his hair and pushing his face into me as my head falls back on the bed. “I love your fucking mouth.”
Clayton kisses my thigh. “Come sit on my face.”
He flips onto his back, upside down from me, and holds out his hands. I climb onto my knees and crawl down to him, letting him guide me until I’m straddling his face and his cock is within reach.
Bending down I grip the base of his shaft and lick up like it’s a popsicle, making him groan beneath me. His mouth is back on my pussy a second later, devouring me.
I moan at the different angle this position provides, subtly rocking against his mouth. Sucking the entire length of his cock inside me, I relax my throat and take him deep.
Clayton curses against me, gripping the backs of my thighs and spreading me wider as he licks up my slit and flicks his tongue around the puckered ring no one’s ever touched before. I cry out, his cock muffling my surprise as he continues to tongue my asshole.
My grip on him tightens, my sucking going lax as he adds a finger to my clit, rubbing it in a fast, sloppy back and forth. Coupled with the foreign feeling of his tongue on my ass, I come within seconds, my orgasm shocking me with its ferocity.
I scream around his cock, grinding my pussy against his mouth, then start sucking again, furiously bobbing my head while my hand jacks him off.
Clayton grunts, his muscles going taut as hot jets of cum coat my tongue and throat. I swallow everything down, massaging his balls as I milk what’s left.
“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he pants against me.
I ease up and eventually roll off him, lying on my back next to him as we both lie here and try to collect ourselves.
“That was…”
“I know.” I smile up at the ceiling, feeling boneless and sated.
When my heartbeat finally levels out and my breathing returns to normal, I climb off the bed and walk around it, picking up my scattered clothes.
He lifts himself onto his elbows. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say, slipping back into my panties. Isn’t that what we do? We fuck and then I leave. “Do you want me to stay?” I as
k, genuinely confused.
“Yes and no.”
There it is.
I try not to take it personally as I finish getting dressed. I knew the drill.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to stay,” he adds quickly. “I just think that we need to establish some boundaries. This can get really messy if we’re not careful.”
I hold my hands up and look for my flip-flops, then remember I took them off downstairs while I was eating. “Hey, I’m not arguing with you. You’re my boss, I’m your assistant, and sometimes we fuck. Those are the boundaries, right?”
He sits up and scowls. “You’re making me sound like an asshole.”
“You kind of are.” Kneeling on the bed, I give him a quick peck on the forehead and then start to head for the door. “Thanks for the orgasm,” I say, waving goodbye without turning around.
SEVEN
Stella
Curiosity is a funny thing. It’s like a little devil sitting on your shoulder, whispering in your ear. Urging you. Compelling you. It makes you do things you know you shouldn’t.
Like snooping. We all know to respect someone’s privacy, but if you suddenly find yourself alone in someone else’s house, your mind starts to wander.
What’s in that drawer? What’s behind that door? What’s in their closet?
It starts off innocently enough, but when you know for certain that no one’s around to catch you in the act… Well, your curiosity gets the better of you. Your fingers become itchy with the need to touch, open, explore.
That’s how I find myself in Clayton’s home office when I should be upstairs gathering his clothes so I can drop them off at the dry cleaners.
It’s been a few weeks since we started … fucking? Casually seeing each other? I have no idea what to call us or what I am to him—if I’m even anything other than a warm place to stick his dick every night.
For someone who’s worried about “blurring the lines,” he sure hasn’t missed an opportunity to fuck me.
He’s bent me over every surface in his office when I deliver his lunch. On the days that I don’t bring him lunch, he still eats out.
As in he eats me out on his desk before getting something from the cafeteria downstairs.
And every single night without fail, he expects me to come over and fuck him.
The sex is so great that I don’t mind, but I’m starting to feel … like I need more from him. I’m not asking for a ring or any kind of commitment. I just need more of an emotional connection.
There are times when I feel like he wants that too, when he gets all tender for the few seconds after he comes, but then it’s gone in the blink of an eye and he’s back in boss-mode.
It’s infuriating.
And since he hasn’t told me anything about his personal life, aside from the fact that I’m the first employee he’s crossed the line with, I’ve had to rely on Google to fill in the rest. Everything I’ve learned about him—his family, relationships, business—I’ve learned secondhand.
Now, when I’m alone in his place, my mind starts to wander. I can’t help but think about all the things I could find here that Google doesn’t know about…
My sandals click on the shiny floor as I round the corner of his desk, my fingers tracing the dark wood. I grip the metal drawer pull on the top drawer, hesitating for a second before pulling it open.
There’s not much to see—some pens, post-its, paperclips—but shoved way in the back is what looks like a framed picture. I pull it out, a lump forming in my throat when I look it over.
It’s a shot of him and some beautiful woman on a picture-perfect beach, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Thanks to Google, I know it’s Claire, his ex-girlfriend and current fiancée to his ex business partner.
Frowning, I wonder why he still has it. If it were me, I would’ve tossed the damn thing in the trash.
Then set the trashcan on fire.
Jealousy snakes through me the longer I look at them.
He loved her. Like really loved her, and I don’t need gossip sites or Google to tell me that. I see it in this picture, in the way he looked at her like she held the whole freakin’ world in the palm of her perfectly manicured hand.
Maybe I’m just a silly girl who reads too much romance, but it’s the kind of way I want him to look at me. And if I’m ever lucky enough to get it, you can bet your ass I’m not going to throw it away like it’s nothing.
I shake my head, wondering what the hell she was thinking when she cheated on Clayton. Not only is he gorgeous and an animal in the bedroom—or office, kitchen, what have you—but he’s one of the biggest philanthropists in the world according to Wikipedia, and has a bigger bank account than some countries.
Not that I care about his money, but heiress and socialite Claire Sutherland probably did.
I set the picture frame back in the desk and plop into his office chair, sinking down into the pillowy leather.
Is he still in love with her? Is that why he’s been so hot and cold with me?
The chair accidentally bumps into the desk as I sit here thinking, the movement causing the computer screen to turn on.
It’s apparently not password protected, which I think is weird at first, until I remember that Clayton lives alone. He’s got no one to try and keep out like I do.
The screen is sleek and thin, the desktop images crisp and pixel-free. It’s a Mac, so it’s probably one of those fancy retina screens. I eye the row of icons along the bottom of the screen, recognizing the little Google Chrome ball on a minimized window that appears to have some kind of picture instead of text.
Curious, I click on it, and when the window enlarges, so do my eyes.
Clayton’s been stalking my Instagram.
Smiling, I minimize the window and head out of his office.
He might have Claire’s picture hidden away in his desk, but it’s not her social media he’s been creeping. It’s mine.
***
Clayton grips my hips as he slams into me from behind, his cock bottoming out in my pussy as I fist his sheets.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. Every time he fucks me, it’s new and exciting. And so, so satisfying. It’s like I don’t feel complete if he’s not inside me, stretching me wide to make room for him.
And I am very, very accommodating.
The symphony of our skin slapping together fills the room, his feral grunts littered with dirty praises serving as the chorus. I’m so wet, so full as he pushes me closer to bliss, my eyes squeezed shut as I bury my face in his bed, my ass and legs spread wide as I kneel before him.
He makes a spitting sound, and half a second later I feel something wet drip onto my asshole. His thumb smears it around the ring of puckered muscle before slowly pushing in.
The feeling is … different.
Taboo.
When he gently starts to fuck my ass with it, I realize it’s also completely fucking phenomenal.
I want more. I suddenly wish he had two cocks to shove inside me, because the feeling of double penetration is…
My whole body tenses as the first crest of pleasure hits me, deliciously blooming from my ass and pussy until it saturates me completely and I can’t tell where it ends or begins. It’s everywhere all at once, ripping a guttural scream from my throat as I clench around his cock and finger simultaneously.
Clayton bites out a curse, his thrusts jarring and rough as his cock twitches deep inside me. His big body stills before shuddering and collapsing on top of me, his sweat-slicked skin pressing against my back.
He lifts himself onto his elbows, kissing my shoulder, my neck, my cheek. And as much as I love it when he’s sweet like this, as much as I look forward to it, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t breathe trapped under him like this.
“I can’t breathe, Clayton.”
He grinds his hips against my ass, getting a few last thrusts in before rolling off me. “Clayton? What happened to ‘sir’?”
Giving him a
pointed look, I take a deep breath. “You just had your finger in my ass. I think I’ve earned the right to call you by your first name.”
He bites his lip as he looks over my naked backside, lightly slapping my ass. “Yeah, but ‘sir’ sounds so much hotter.”
Rolling my eyes, I get up and start to gather my clothes.
“Call me Clay.” His voice is quiet, surprising me when I slip on my panties.
I pause and look at him, unable to stop the smile from forming. I’d tell him thank you, but if he ruined it by saying something dickish like ‘Don’t get used to it,’ well I might just haul off and slap him.
I finish getting dressed as he disposes of the condom.
“Wait,” he says. “I almost forgot.”
I watch him grab a business card from his nightstand, then hand it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, frowning as I read it.
It’s for a Dr. Robert Hendricks, M.D.
“Are you on any kind of birth control?”
“I’m on the pill,” I say, still confused.
“How long have you been taking it?”
“Five years.”
“Are you good at remembering to take it?”
“Same time every day. Why?”
What’s with all these questions? Did the condom break or something?
“You have an appointment tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t worry about the bill, I’ve already taken care of it.”
“An appointment for what?”
“To get tested.” He licks his lips and steps closer, his semi-soft cock hardening right before my eyes. “The next time I fuck you, it’s going to be without a piece of latex between us. I’m tired of wasting my cum in a bunch of rubber.”
He wants to come in me? Why is the thought of that so fucking hot?
I swallow, suddenly breathless. “You’ve only been doing it for a few weeks. You make it sound so arduous.”
“It’s a few weeks too many. I want to feel it spilling into you, watch it dribble out of your tight little cunt.” He bites his lip, his cock rock hard again.
“That sounds … fucking hot,” I admit.
Clay smiles. “I already got tested this afternoon. Dr. Hendricks will give you a copy of my results when you go in tomorrow.” He steps closer and kisses me goodbye, shocking me.
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