“Relax, princess,” I said as I released the button of my slacks and unzipped my fly. In one swoop, I slid down my boxer briefs and pants to my ankles, freeing my already erect cock. A bead of pre-cum dotted the crown like a sprinkle, but my princess was going to need more than this to make my cock feel good inside her back entrance. I searched my desk for something to use. I found it immediately.
Donut flavored lubricant. I kid you not. We had a grab bag at our Christmas party last year and everyone was asked to contribute an anonymous gag gift. This is the one I picked. I’m sure it was from Clint. It had sat on my desk for almost six months and now was the time to try it out. All natural and sugar-free, it had actually gotten five-star reviews on Amazon. Let’s see if it really delivered.
I screwed off the cap, and instantly, a delicious aroma wafted to my nose. Jesus. This stuff really did smell like one of our donuts fresh from the fryer. Optimistic, I squirted some on the tip of my middle finger—I liked the consistency, not too watery or thick—and then put the finger to my mouth. I took a lick. Wow. It was fucking delicious! It tasted just like our secret formula glaze. My enterprising mind was working a mile a minute…maybe we should buy out this product and rebrand it as Donut King Lubricant for the biggest, sweetest orgasms you’ll ever have.
“Owen, what smells so good?” asked my sweet Olive, bringing me back to the business at hand.
“You, baby.” I kissed the nape of her neck and then squirted a generous amount of the yummy lube on my cock, making sure my entire shaft was nicely coated.
“Baby, I really need you to relax and trust me.”
“Oh, Owen, I trust with all my heart.”
“Good. This is going to feel uncomfortable at first, but I think you’ll get used to it quickly.”
Without dicking around, I put my well-lubricated cock to her entrance. Her own sweet little donut hole. She jolted a bit. So far, so good.
“Hold on, princess,” I told her as I spread her cheeks as wide as I could. My eager cock twitched in anticipation.
Inhaling, I penetrated her. Sweet Jesus. Her warm pucker felt so fucking good, hugging my wide crown like a suction cup.
She squeaked out a little “oh” as she jolted again.
“You ready?”
She nodded twice, her hands clutching the edge of the desk, her lustrous hair dusting the surface. Fuck. I wish I could see her face.
Steadying her by her hips, I slowly plunged my rigid length into her searing hole inch by hungry inch, and as I felt myself stretch her, she winced.
Concern filled me as I pushed in further. “You okay, princess?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding as she did.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. I-I just feel so full.”
And I felt like I was baking in one of those Easy Bake Ovens. My cock was swelling like a loaf of bread. I can’t begin to tell you how good she felt. Plundering her pussy had been a mind-blowing experience, but this was something else because she was so damn hot and tight. And it was a brand new experience for me. I felt like a conqueror exploring a new land. The King’s empire was expanding one fuck at a time. And I wouldn’t be satisfied until I claimed every ounce of her.
Thanks to the donut-scented lube, I glided smoothly back down her chasm, feeling her muscles relax as I did. Ready to take her deeper, I shoved my cock back in as far it could go. A long sigh replaced the wince.
“How do you feel?” I asked, still worried about her well-being as I slid it back down again.
“So good. Please do it again, my king.”
A relieved smile curled up my lips. “Princess, I’m going to fuck your sweet ass now. We’re going to start out slowly and then I’m going to take you to the moon. If it gets too much for you, let me know.”
“Okay.”
“Now hold on. We’re ready to rock ’n roll.”
Within a few moments, I was pumping her backdoor at a steady, even keel. Sexy little whimpers clogged her throat as she began to buck her hips to meet my thrusts, her soft cheeks meeting the slap of my balls. Holy Jesus. She was a natural at this. It was time to pick up the pace. Going at it fast and furiously, I didn’t think my cock was going to last very long. But I wanted us to come together so I moved one hand to her clit and began to vigorously rub it like I was whipping up a batter. She was dripping wet with desperation, her arousal equal to mine. Ragged pants filled the room.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she began to shriek.
My favorite little word that was leading to something so big. And so beautiful. On my next deep thrust, I grunted and we both imploded, my release so plentiful it spilled down her inner thighs. Clutching her, I collapsed onto her back with a groan.
The sound of my own groan brought me out of my fantasy and I realized I’d made myself come while fantasizing fucking Olive in the ass. Relief gave way to alarm as a loud wail filled my ears. My heart pounded with dread. Had something happened to my beloved Olive? Turning off the water, I hopped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around my torso as I did. The wail grew louder. Panic gripped me by the balls.
Please, God. No!!!!
“Princess, what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Olive was standing in the hallway, tears storming down her face. The lovely multi-color flowers she had picked were strewn all over the floor.
“How could you?” she sobbed out.
I blinked my eyes several times, trying to comprehend what she was talking about. Was she upset I took a shower without her and secretly jerked off?
“Do what?” I asked, adjusting the towel around my hips.
“You lied to me!”
“What are you talking about, Olive?”
I tried to take her into my arms, but she resisted, pushing me away.
“Don’t touch me, you two timing creep. I should have never trusted you.”
Confusion and desperation ate away at me. “Please, Olive. I don’t understand. I love you. You’re the only one.”
“Really?” she flung the word at me through her tears.
I couldn’t take her crying like this; it was killing me. And what was worse, I didn’t know how to stop the tears because I didn’t know why she was so upset.
“Olive, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You live with someone.”
“What!?”
On the next blink of my eyes, she stepped back and swung open the door she was standing next to.
Oh, Jesus. A walk-in closet full of magnificent women’s dresses, handbags, shoes, and silk lingerie turned my eyes into saucers. I slapped my palm to my forehead and sucked in a deep breath.
“Ol—” She didn’t give me a chance to say her name.
“I’m leaving and I don’t want to be your assistant. I quit.”
Before she could stalk off, I captured her wrist and clutched it firmly.
“Let go of me!” she cried out, futilely trying to break free of my grip. She was no match for my strength.
“Olive, please,” I pleaded. “I can explain.”
Her misty eyes met mine. Her lips quivered. A series of endless sniffles accompanied her heaves. She didn’t realize that what I was about to tell her was going to crack my heart in half. But I was glad she was open to hearing what I had to say. Giving me a chance. That made it a little easier. It had been a very long time since this closet door had been opened. I sucked in another deep breath.
“Olive, these are my mother’s clothes and accessories.”
“Your mother’s?” she said softly, her voice laced with surprise.
“Yes. After she died, I gave away most of her possessions, but I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of her treasured collection of vintage dresses, accessories, and shoes.”
“They’re beautiful,” Olive said, her tears subsiding.
She’d obviously examined the collection.
“I saw one of the dresses on the portrait of that beautiful woman downstairs. Your mother, right?”
I smiled. “Yes,
that was her favorite one. She called it her donut dress.”
“It’s so special. Where did she get it?”
“At a thrift store or flea market. Maybe a garage sale. They’re all famous designers from the fifties and sixties. The collection is probably worth a small fortune. I’ve had a couple of appraisers come over who have told me they could fetch as much as a hundred thousand dollars at auction, but I have no intention of ever selling them. They meant too much to both her and my father.”
Olive cocked her head like a puzzled puppy, her big brown eyes begging to hear more.
“My mother worked very hard with my father in his donut shop seven days a week. Besides her beloved custard-filled donuts, she had one other indulgence. Every Sunday for a few hours she would leave my father to run the shop by himself and scour flea markets, second-hand shops, and garage sales for these kinds of things. Though you’d never know from the functional clothes she wore at work, she had great taste that was matched by her great eye. She loved Hollywood glamour and worshipped pinup girls. Every Saturday night, she’d get dressed up in one of her vintage finds and go out dancing with my father. My father adored her in these outfits and they both loved to dance. And I used to love to watch my mother get dressed up because I knew how much pleasure it gave both her and my father.”
The pool of tears that had dried up resurged. My Olive began to sniffle again.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong now?”
“Oh, Owen, that is the sweetest story. I’m so sorry I misjudged you. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Oh, princess, there’s nothing to forgive.” I took her into my arms, gently brushing away her tears. “How could you have known?”
I tilted up her chin and stared into those loving, soulful eyes that all but melted me. I began to kiss her tears away before planting a passionate one on her lips. Our lips stayed locked for a very long time until we ended it together, both needing some air.
I brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face, soaking in her beauty. “Hey, we should get ready to go the office. We have a big day ahead.”
Olive looked forlornly into my eyes. “I don’t have anything to wear except the outfit I wore yesterday. And I’m afraid your marketing director Mallory will grow suspicious if I wear it again. I think she’s dangerous and could stir up trouble.”
I listened attentively. Olive was right. After Clint’s totally out-of-line assault on me yesterday, I had to protect Olive from Clint’s predatory behavior the way a lion protects his mate. Maybe I could take Olive shopping for some new clothes, but when I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was only six thirty a.m., I silently cursed. Not a single clothing store would be open at this hour. Then an idea struck me and I knew this was all meant to be.
“Olive, my beauty…”
“Yes?”
“I want you to pick out a dress from my mother’s vintage wardrobe. Anything you want. She was about the same size as you, shoes and all.”
“Owen, I don’t think I can do that. These clothes belonged only to her.”
“No, Olive. I believe there’s another reason I’ve saved them. I’ve waited so long for a woman who could measure up to my mother. Someone who’s kind and loving. Someone who is as sweet as they are smart. And I think I’ve found her. It’s you.”
“Oh, Owen!” Olive’s lips trembled. “Are you sure?”
“I’m more than sure. Maybe you’d like to wear the donut dress. I think it would look stunning on you.”
Quietly smiling, Olive bent down to pick up the roses scattered around her. She gathered them into a bouquet and handed them to me.
“And these are for you. I thought you might like to take them to your office.”
I put them to my nose and inhaled them. Their intoxicating scent made me dizzy. As long as I’d lived in this big house, I’d never stopped to smell the roses.
They gave new meaning to my life.
And my beautiful Olive gave it the most meaning of all.
She’d soon be wearing more than my mother’s dress. I couldn’t wait to slip it on her ring finger.
By seven thirty, we were in Owen’s car en route to his corporate headquarters. I was dressed in his mother’s vintage dress along with a pair of her platform pumps. Both fit me perfectly, and I must say the beautiful full-skirted pink dress with its whimsical chocolate-colored donuts and halter neckline complemented both my coloring and curves. Beneath the dress I was wearing a beautiful silk corselet, something else I’d found in her closet. Though the delicate Made in France item must have dated to the fifties, it was brand new as the tags had never been taken off. My brows lifted to my forehead when I saw the price—$12.99 and it was from Saks! Oh my goodness! I bet today such a luxurious undergarment would cost hundreds of dollars.
I was in awe of Owen’s mother, and he was in awe of me. Several times he took his eyes off the road to tell me how beautiful I looked. I felt myself flush with love each time he did.
Given his wealth, I was surprised Owen didn’t have a driver. When I asked, he told me he enjoyed driving himself to and from work. He liked being in control. And being behind the wheel also stimulated his mind. Some of his best ideas came to him when he drove.
The car—or should I say, monster—suited Owen perfectly. It wasn’t a convertible sports car or something fancy like a Rolls Royce. Rather, it was a jet black Hummer. If you asked me, it was the perfect car for the Donut King. An urban assault vehicle. Big… powerful…intimidating. Yet just like my beautiful companion, a man of substance and contradictions, there was a comforting gentleness to it as it hummed along the 101 Freeway. The scent of the soft leather and the bouquet of roses by my feet made a heady combination.
The Big Band music that his mother and father used to dance to was piping through the stereo system. I sat back in my comfy seat and let myself be transported to another time as I listened contently. Frank Sinatra began to play. He was singing “Someone to Watch Over Me.” As his smooth as velvet voice filled my ears, the words of the song struck a deep chord in my heart. I just couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday at this time, I was an unemployed trainwreck about to lose her apartment. An orphan, lost in the woods, who had no one to watch over me. Today, I was a big beautiful woman with a promising job and best of all, the man I’d loved forever to protect and cherish me. Tears clustered in the back of my eyes. I’d never been so happy.
Halfway through the song, Owen began to sing along. My heart melted. He had the most beautiful voice I ever heard. A deep rich baritone, and I could feel his heart in every word. Harmonizing with the title words, he turned his head and glanced at me. His sapphire eyes burnt a hole right through me. It was if he was singing the song to me. A few tears escaped my eyes.
“Princess, why are you crying again?” he asked when the song ended, lowering the volume of the radio.
“I-I don’t know,” I spluttered. “It’s something about that song.” And the way you sang it.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, he clasped my hand and put it on the stick shift, entwining his long fingers with mine. A melancholy smile formed on his lips.
“Olive, that was my mother’s favorite song. It embodied the relationship between her and my father. When my father passed away, she played it over and over. She would tell me he was watching over her from heaven.”
“How did your father die?”
“A heart attack. He died in his sleep. He was a lot older than my mother, fifty-five to her forty.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly as I calculated his parents’ age difference in my head. His father was fifteen years older than his mother. Probably the same difference in age between the two of us. A sudden pang of fear stabbed at my heart. I couldn’t bear to lose this man. Though I’d only known him for day, it felt like an eternity and the love I felt for him was immeasurable. Beyond anything I’d ever known.
“Owen, I’m scared.”
“What are you scared o
f, my Olive?”
“Of…of losing you.”
He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, my princess. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours forever.”
His words comforted me a little. But there was something else weighing on my mind.
“Owen…”
Taking his eyes off the road, he glanced at me. “What now, my love?”
“I’ve been thinking…” My voice trailed off.
“About what?”
I gulped a breath. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have sex in the office or even let it be known there’s something between us. It’ll raise eyebrows and rumors will circulate. I’m especially worried about Mallory. She’s a troublemaker and really seems to have it in for me.”
Owen furrowed his thick bushy eyebrows and pinched his lips together. He was deep in thought. I kept my eyes on him as we shared a short but tense silence.
“Fine,” he said at last. “But just know it’s going to be very hard for me to keep my hands off you. If you hear me growling in my office or barking at employees, it’ll be because I can’t have you. I may have to kidnap you at lunch, take you to a deserted lot, and fuck you senseless in the backseat.”
My body heated at his words. I squirmed in my cushy leather seat from the rush of flutters that clustered between my thighs. Lunch sounded so good.
A saucy smile curved up his lips. “Don’t worry, my princess, we’ll stop for a bite afterward. I plan to keep you well fed for the rest of your life.”
I returned the smile as he turned off the freeway. Somehow, the distance from his office to his house seemed longer last night.
“Is this the exit to your headquarters?” I asked, taking in my surroundings.
He smiled. “We’re taking a little detour. I want to take you somewhere first.”
Anticipation coursed through me. Was he already taking me to a deserted lot? I craned my neck and took a quick peek at the backseat. It was definitely big enough for the two of us. The thought of making love with my Donut King on the leather banquette was enough to give me a mental orgasm. My pussy was still vibrating from the earth-shattering pleasure he’d given me this morning. I faced forward again and looked out the window. We were on a busy street that was filled with strip malls. It seemed unlikely that we’d be coming to a vacant lot anytime soon. And then my eyes grew as round as donuts as he pulled into the parking lot of the next strip mall. The familiar sign with the big pink “O” glared in my eyes. We were at a Donut King! Parking in a spot that was marked “Reserved,” Owen hopped out of the SUV and came around to help me out.
The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) Page 8