As I reached for my zipper, an unwelcomed familiar voice cut my delicious fantasy short.
“Owen, we need to talk.”
Jerking my hand off my crotch, I looked up. It was Clint and something about her was different. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her blouse was unbuttoned, revealing her bony chest. In her hand was a file.
“What’s up?” I asked, regretful that I hadn’t kept my door locked.
“I’m going to cut to the chase,” she replied, approaching my desk. “I have a big problem with your new ‘assistant.’” She put air quotes around the last word.
“And what might that be?” I asked, the conversation already making me feel uncomfortable.
“She’s all wrong for you and this company. She’s pure uneducated trailer trash.”
My blood curdled. “No, she’s not. She’s an angel.”
She scoffed at me. “She’s totally not capable of being your personal assistant.”
My blood pressure was rising. “What makes you say that?”
“I read her respondent application. She has nothing more than a high school education. And the only job she’s ever held is being a waitress at some rinky-dink diner that went out of business.”
I had the highest respect for waitresses. They worked hard and were eager to please. My own mother had been a waitress at a diner and that’s how she met my father.
“She’s after your money, Owen. I can detect a shrew the same way a bloodhound can sniff out a wild boar. She’s ready to serve you her slothenly body on a silver platter. She’s so not for you. You need someone who is your match. Someone who is smart, aggressive, ruthless, ambitious, and fit. Someone like m—”
I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “No, Clint. I think you’re wrong.” I was referring to what she said about Olive, but my remark could also apply to my personal feelings about her. Or should I say my lack of feelings; I had no romantic interest in Clint whatsoever. She was so far from being my type. Totally wrong. An uptight, entitled, self-righteous skinny bitch, who seemed to have a pickle up her butt.
“That’ll be all,” I said dismissively.
“No, Owen. Let me show you what I mean.”
A fiendish smirk streaked across her face. Before I could say another word, she rounded my desk and shoved my chair back against my credenza, which thankfully stopped me from slamming into the wall. With the force she’d used, I’d likely have gotten a concussion. I had no idea she was so strong. On my next harsh breath, she was straddling my lap.
“Get off of me,” I barked.
Ignoring my plea, she huffed. “Owen, you need a woman who can grab a man by his balls. Who’s not afraid to take control.” She fisted my collar, drawing me closer to her. “You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
I did. My Olive.
I had enough. What the hell had gotten into her? As I was about to bounce her off my lap, she yanked off my tie and ripped opened the buttons of my expensive dress shirt. What the hell was she doing? Before I could ask, she smacked her lips on mine and gave me a rabid kiss that was more like a savage bite—especially since she growled as she gnawed my lips. I thought about shoving her off me, but my rage was so great I feared I’d hurt her with my brutal strength and get hit with a harassment rap. With this in my mind, I turned my head and pressed my lips tight, trying to resist her.
Then it got worse. She dug her nails into my exposed flesh, so deeply I’m sure she drew blood, and rocked her taut body all over my cock. If she thought she was getting me hard, she was wrong. All she was doing was giving me a rash. My poor aching cock. On the next blink of my eyes, she began to pull down my fly.
“I’m going to give you some real pussy.”
“What the fuck are you doing, Clint?” I cried out as I captured her wrist.
“Showing you what you’ve missed.” Determined to free her hand, she went back to gnawing me. I couldn’t stand the way she tasted or kissed me. Everything felt so wrong. So very wrong.
“E-excuse me, Mr. King—”
The shocked sweet little voice drifted into my ears. My heart skipped a beat. It was my Olive, standing at the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and her hand cupped to her mouth. With adrenaline flowing through my veins, I pushed Clint off my lap, sending her to the floor on her bony ass.
“What the hell?” she hissed.
Her words went in one ear and out the other. I jumped up from my chair as Olive fled my office. Being a quarterback in college had its lifelong benefits. Not only was I physically strong, but I was also a super-fast runner. I ran after Olive as if I were going the whole hundred yards to score a touchdown. Though she was a surprisingly fast runner, I caught up with her in no time. Cinching her by her waist, I stopped her in her tracks and pinned her against a wall. Gripping her shoulders, I pressed my hips against her soft flesh, holding her captive.
“Let go of me,” she cried out at the top of her lungs.
“Olive, please,” I said softly as she turned her head away. “Look at me.”
“How could you?” she blurted, angry tears exploding from her eyes.
Fuck. She was crying again, her tears melting me. I wasn’t sure whether I should brush them away, kiss them away, or just let them fall. I ended up opting for the latter though my lips craved to be touching her in the worst possible way. To my relief, she turned her head toward me slowly and met my gaze. Opportunity struck.
“Listen, my princess. It’s not what it seemed to be.”
Her glistening eyes held me with uncertainty as I continued with guarded optimism.
“She barged into my office and attacked me.”
“Why didn’t you resist her?” Her softly voiced question gave me confidence to elaborate. At least, she was listening, keeping her heart open.
I answered honestly. “I swear I didn’t know what hit me until it was too late. She’s some kind of crazy nymphomaniac.”
“Why should I believe you? She’s attractive, svelte, and likely well educated.”
“This is why.” On impulse, I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her madly until she succumbed and moaned into my mouth.
“There’s only you, my princess.”
“Oh! Owen!”
“Please believe me, my sweetheart. The minute I set my eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. Mallory is just an employee. She means nothing to me except for how much she can grow my company and add to our bottom line.”
Her tears subsided. Thank God, she believed me.
“Have you ever thought of firing her?”
I pondered her question. The answer was yes. In hindsight, I should have a long time ago when Donut King began its descent. But it was virtually impossible with her father being a major investor. And now, being a publicly held company and at our lowest stock price in decades, firing my head of marketing would cause Wall Street jitters that could result in a massive stock sell off and lead us straight into bankruptcy. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.
“I can’t,” I told Olive, explaining the circumstances. She understood, but she still felt insecure and distrustful.
“That woman is dangerous, Owen. I can sense it. She’s conniving and competitive and won’t stop until she’s gotten what she wants.” She paused. “And she’s definitely out to get me. It’s so obvious she doesn’t like me.”
I processed her words. Goddamn Clint. I had no problem keeping her away from me, but keeping her away from my beloved Olive was another story. I had to protect her from that vicious bitch.
“She’s jealous of you,” I consoled her.
Olive giggled, that adorable dimpled smile lighting up her face. That and the sweetness of her laughter were turning me on. I could feel my cock expanding and if employees weren’t passing by, I’d take her right against the wall. What was it about wall banging her that drove me nuts?
“No one’s ever been jealous of me.”
“That’s going to change,” I replied, nuzzling her n
eck. “Every woman in the world is going to be jealous of you when I officially make you my princess. Do you think Clint is the only one who’s wanted to get into my pants? Fuck no. There have been hundreds, but until today, I’ve never cared about a single one. My beautiful Olive, my heart only beats for you. You’re the only one for me.”
“Oh, Owen,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
With a smile, I kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s call it a day. It’s time to go home.”
A sudden sullenness swept over my Olive’s face, and she looked like she might again burst into tears.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“I have no home. Remember? My landlord kicked me out of my apartment for not paying my rent.”
I tilted up her chin. “Don’t worry, my love, you’re coming home with me. Wait till you meet Mollien.”
My eyes grew as wide as saucers and my jaw dropped to the floor of the monstrous SUV Owen was driving as we approached his house.
“Wow! That’s your house?” I gasped.
I couldn’t stop staring at it as we wound up the private road that led to it. I guess I didn’t give much thought to what kind of house he might live in, but I sure wasn’t expecting this. It was a huge, gated stucco mansion that seemed to be glazed in pink frosting. A lit up pink palace surrounded by palm trees and with a city-view to die for.
“Yup. This is where I live. Meet Mollien.”
“This is Mollien?” I had pondered who she was during the drive but hadn’t dared to ask because I didn’t want my jealousy to rear its ugly self again. And besides, I thought it was probably just his French cook or live-in housekeeper.
“Yeah. I named the house after my mother. When I first saw it, it reminded me of her. Big, beautiful, warm, and inviting. Just like you, Olive.”
The house was palatial. Fit for a king. It looked like it might have dozens of rooms.
“You live here all by yourself?” I ventured as he pulled into the detached three-car garage.
“Yeah, I’m kind of a loner. I’d been hoping my mother would live in the guesthouse, but she passed away just before I moved in.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew what it was like to lose a parent and was curious to learn more about his mother. Perhaps later, but not now.
“What part of town is this?” I asked instead.
“Los Feliz.” He hopped out of the vehicle and then rounded it to help me out. “Come.”
Come. The word hummed in my ears as he led me to the front entrance of his house. How many times had I come for him today? Four times, maybe five? The aftershocks of my epic orgasms were still rolling through my core and making me eager for more. What would tonight bring? My body trembled with excitement as he opened the front door. And then he scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing.
“What are you doing, Owen?”
“I’m practicing carrying my bride-to-be across the threshold. It was either this or dragging you inside by your beautiful hair.”
I couldn’t help laughing. This gorgeous man was so over the top. And such a contradiction. A barbaric caveman yet such a romantic. Of course, I didn’t believe a word he was saying. I’d known him for less than a day, and he was acting crazy calling me his bride-to-be. I hardly knew him and he hardly knew me.
Then my laughter halted, giving way to a gasp. The interior of his magnificent house came into view. It was breathtaking. As palatial as the exterior, filled with gilded antiques, sparkling crystal chandeliers, and a sweeping staircase.
“Oh my God! Your house is so beautiful!” While I’d seen photos of homes like this in magazines I perused while waiting in supermarket lines, I’d never stepped foot in one. Let alone with a man like this.
Still in his arms, we skirted by his massive, antique-filled living room on the right and the palatial dining room on the left before heading up the majestic winding staircase. Along the way, we passed a framed portrait of a stunning young woman with midnight black hair and piercing blue eyes, who looked a lot like him. A sister? An old girlfriend?
“Where are we going?” I asked, shoving the thought of another woman to the back of my mind as we approached the top of the stairs.
“I’m taking you where you belong. To your room.”
“Oh,” I squeaked. This house surely had dozens of bedrooms. Any one of them would do. Even the servants’ quarters would likely be a major improvement over the hole-in-the-wall bedroom I was accustomed to. When we reached the second floor, he carried me down a long hallway until we came to a room at the very end. I had counted the bedrooms—ten on each side, making a total of twenty. I couldn’t wait to see more of the house.
My eyes grew wide again as we entered the dimly lit room. Most likely a suite, it was enormous and, like the rest of the house, outfitted in magnificent antiques. A massive four-poster bed, draped in rich burgundy velvet, dominated the space. It was the kind of bed a king would sleep in, certainly not some ordinary girl like me.
As we neared the bed, Owen gently set me down, and in a few heartbeats, I was naked in his arms, his mouth all over mine.
“Olive, I’ve got to have you. I’ve waited all day to make love to you in my bed.”
His bed?
“I want to own you, cherish you, treasure you, and possess you.”
My arousal at his words was making me lightheaded. My blood heated as my heart fluttered. And then my knees grew weak as I watched him feverishly disrobe, starting with his jacket, tie, and shirt, and then moving on to his well-tailored pants. For the third time tonight, I gasped. Standing before me was the most gorgeous specimen of mankind I’d ever seen. A masterpiece of virile perfection. My unblinking eyes roamed down his body, soaking in his broad, square shoulders, his long, sculpted arms that were laced with a layer of fine dark hair, a matching pair of long, powerful legs, and connecting them, a chiseled torso ripped with a six-pack and a perfect pelvic V that traveled down to his massive cock. Mesmerized, I could have stared at him for the rest of my life, but he wasn’t giving me the chance. On my next breath, I was in his arms again and before I could take another, I was flat on my back in his bed with his god-like body caging me in with its weight.
He let out a loud savage growl as if he was claiming me and declaring himself the king of the jungle. I could smell his manliness as his body heated and his breath warmed my face. My Donut King was one sexy beast. His eyes smoldered with lust and desire, and as he gazed into mine, his voice softened.
“I want you to put my cock inside you, my precious princess,” he breathed into my mouth. “I need to feel your hands around it.”
My heart thudding, I did as he asked, wrapping my fingers around the wide base and then putting it to my entrance. As I gripped it, he shoved it in slowly, inch by glorious inch, until he’d taken me to the hilt. I arched my back and let out a moan.
“Jesus, Olive. You feel so fucking good. So hot, so wet. But before I make you fall apart, tell me what does it feel like for you?”
Oh, God. I had to find words when all I wanted was for him to pummel me to pieces.
“Well?”
This was hard, no pun intended. Because there were no words to describe him. His fullness was like nothing I’d ever felt before—well, with exception of having him inside me earlier today. I searched my mind as my muscles clenched around his thick, pulsing length. I could feel every inch of his hardness in my tight little pussy.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed as I clenched him harder.
Only one word came to me: complete. “Oh, Owen, you make me feel whole. You fill not only my body, but also a void, both emotionally and physically.”
“Oh, baby.” Reverently, he kissed my breasts, sucking one nipple after the other. The touch of his soft lips on the sensitive tips, which hardened in his mouth, sent a rush of insane pleasure from my head to my feet. My toes curled at the sensation.
“Olive, you and you alone make me feel alive. Let
me show you how much you mean to me, my sweet princess.”
With fire in his eyes, he slid his giant cock down my pussy, and as I held the air I breathed in my lungs, he thrust it back up. It was a slow, deep, powerful stroke.
“Olive, we’re going to take it slow. I want to savor every stroke, make you feel loved, make love to you the way I should have had I known you were a virgin. I am a hard man, a rough man, but you, only you, make me tender. I want to pleasure you with the tenderness and love you give me.”
The words, spoken like a poet, made my heart flutter and my body kindle for his touch. Relaxing into his fullness, I let him take me the way he wanted. It felt incredible. Each long stroke so full of reverence and passion. I rocked my hips into his taut body with every measured thrust.
“Princess,” he moaned, “you’re still like a virgin. So fucking tight.”
At his words, I clamped my muscles tighter around his length, hugging his magnificent cock like a silk glove. “Harder, faster,” I cried out. I was ready for him to make me lose myself and take me to another dimension.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned as he began to pound me fast and furiously.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh…”
“Oh, oh, oh…”
“C’mon, sweet girl. Fall apart for me and say my name. I don’t have any neighbors so scream it until the cows come home.”
I gazed at her impassioned face. It was beautiful. A vision of pure ecstasy with her lush lips forming a perfect “O” as they quivered out her orgasm.
“Oh, oh, oh…”
I thrust into her once more forcefully, and as I hit her magic spot, she exploded all around my cock and roared my name, holding onto the first syllable like an opera singer, who was bringing down the house. “OOOOOOOOOOO-wen!” As the second syllable poured out of her mouth, I followed her over the edge with my own euphoric orgasm. Collapsing onto her soft body, my face buried between her luscious breasts, I stayed inside her, coming with a series of long, hot spurts. As she milked the very last drop with a squeeze of her pulsing pussy, a feeling of comfort imbued me. It was like coming home. Only better because I wasn’t alone. My cock was inside her. A few blissful minutes later, I rolled off her. As she caught her breath, I wrapped my arm around her warm milky flesh and repositioned her so her head was resting on my chest. I stroked the damp silky strands of her long hair that fanned across my bicep and over her heavenly tits that rose and fell with each breath. We were one hot, beautiful sweaty mess.
The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) Page 6