We both laugh.
“I’d like that a lot,” I tell her. “In fact, there are a lot of things I’d like.”
I sit her on the bed and kneel down on the floor. There’s something else I’m hoping she’ll say yes to.
“And what is that?” she says. “To start off the christening by giving me oral sex while you’re down there? Yes please.”
“I certainly will do that,” I tell her. “But first I’d like to know if you’ll marry me.”
I reach into my boot and pull out the diamond ring I had put in there this morning. I hold it up to her as tears form in her eyes. I’m trying my best not to keep from crying with her.
“Oh my God, yes!” she says, reaching down and throwing her arms around me. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
I scoop her into my arms and hold her.
“Now listen,” I tell her. “If you don’t like this idea, we can go shopping and get you another ring. This was…”
I trail off, a vision of her and my little boy running through my mind. Wherever they’re at now, I hope they’re at peace. And I can still feel them with me, propelling me to live a good life for myself, and Brynn, and Caleb.
“Your wife’s?” Brynn asks, squeezing my arm.
“Yes,” I tell her. “The only other woman I’ve ever loved. I never thought I’d love again. Never wanted to. But you changed all of that for me. So I would be honored if you would like to wear it. But if not, if you want to start fresh with one of your own, I understand that as well.”
“I would love to wear it,” she says. “And I’m so glad we’re getting married. There’s nothing I’d like more.”
“Well, there’s one thing I’d like more,” I tell her.
She looks at me, curious.
“What did you and Steven ever decide to do about Caleb’s custody and support situation?” I ask her. “With everything going on, we haven’t had time to talk about that very much.”
“I haven’t talked to him either,” she says. “I’ve had more important things to worry about. It’s clear that he just wants to walk out of Caleb’s life or fight me in court to reduce his support as much as possible, even if that means dragging Caleb into it and claiming he will spend time with him. I can’t do that to poor Caleb. I think I’m just done with Steven and that whole situation.”
“Good,” I tell her. “Because I would like to talk to him and ask him how he feels of course, but I’ve been thinking I would love to adopt him.”
“You’d adopt him?” she says. “Really?”
“I’d love to,” I tell him. “There is nothing else I’d want more in the world than to be both your husband and Caleb’s father. I would be so proud to call him ours.”
She’s full-on crying now, and so am I. I never thought my life would turn out to be good again. All it took was meeting the fancy lawyer in the cheerleading costume.
“When can we tell him?” she says, wiping tears from her eyes.
“I suppose we should make sure Steven will really sign away his rights first,” I tell her. “So we don’t get his hopes up just to crash them.”
“I’m sure that piece of shit will be happy to sign away his rights since it means he won’t have to pay child support,” she says. “He said as much himself. But you’re right. We’ll have that done officially first, and then tell Caleb. Maybe it can be his Christmas present.”
“Yes,” I agree. “After the Santa Ride, we’ll tell him. And there’s something else we need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
I lift up her skirt and move my mouth down to her panties. I move them over to the side and lick her sweet pussy up and down.
“I like that plan,” she says. “Let’s definitely do this first.”
She lays back on the bed as I move my tongue around inside her and all around her clit until she begins coming for me.
“Oh my God. Larson,” she moans, holding onto my hair and saying my name over and over and over. “Larson. Larson. Larson. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I take off my pants and get on top of her. My favorite position.
“What do you think the maternity policy is at your new job?” I ask her.
“Anything I want it to be,” she says. “Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking maybe Caleb would like a little brother or sister.”
She smiles and I kiss her on her forehead.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
I enter her, without a condom for the first time ever, and I love the way my bare cock feels inside her pussy.
“This is perfect,” I tell her, as I slide it in and out, while playing with and then kissing her nipples.
“As perfect as things could possibly be,” she says. “And I have you to thank.”
“We have each other to thank,” I tell her.
She lifts her hips up to get closer to me and I thrust inside her again and again. I let go of any inhibitions and let myself feel pleasure like none I’ve ever felt before. I’m not longer afraid of losing control with her. I give my all to her, and I know she gives her all to me.
We make tender love until I feel her pussy being to quiver at the same time as my cock is pulsing.
“We’re going to come together,” she says. “I can feel it.”
“I want to shoot my cum into your pussy,” I tell her. “To mark you as my little cheerleader slut, forever and ever.”
“Amen,” she says, as I explode into her.
“Larson,” she groans, as both of us come together.
I feel my cum shooting into her as her own wetness leaks out. We mix our minds, bodies, hearts and souls together as only two people who have found true love can do.
We have saved each other. And what we have is fucking awesome.
THE END.
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SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT OF YES, BOSS (Asher & Madilyn’s Story)
Chapter 1 – Madilyn
A shiver runs through me as I step out of the elevator and into the open foyer of the Law Firm of Marks, Sanchez & Reed. It’s not just because the air conditioning is on full blast to combat the dry August heat and overcompensate to the point where the air inside feels chilly. It’s also due to a mixture of excitement and fear that is coursing through my veins.
And horniness. There’s definitely a little horniness mixed in there and coursing its way through other parts of me as well.
“Welcome, Ms. St. Clair,” the receptionist says, standing up and coming over to greet me.
He’s every bit of a proverbial
tall, dark and handsome hotty but his perfect hair and impeccable fashion taste— he’s wearing a bespoke suit and tie that puts my carefully chosen skirt suit to shame— signal that he’s gay, damn it.
“I’m Claude,” he says, with what I swear is a slight French accent, “and I’ll show you to your temporary office.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand and begin to follow him. As we pass the receptionist desk I note a framed picture of another man kissing Claude on the cheek. I’m happy for him but sad for me that my suspicions are confirmed.
It’s not like you could sleep with the receptionist at your brand new job, I think, chiding myself.
I’m on a mission. I need to have sex.
But not with anyone at work. I’m not that stupid.
“Did you say temporary office?” I ask Claude, willing myself back to reality.
“Yes,” he says, leading me down the spiral staircase. “It’s right this way.”
“What happened to…”
I trail off momentarily. I had wanted to say “my office,” but that sounds presumptuous.
“…the permanent office?” I finish.
When I’d interviewed here, one of the firm’s named partners, Ron Sanchez, had showed me an office that would be mine if I got the job. It was a large office with an impressive view of the Sandia Mountains and I’d been eagerly awaiting the chance to decorate it and make it my own.
“You do have an office but that wing is in the process of expansion,” Claude says.
“Expansion?”
Am I getting an even bigger office?
“Under construction,” he says, with an awkward shrug.
It’s obvious that Claude is just as confused as I am. The poor guy was only assigned to give me the bad news and show me to my “temporary office” and here I am badgering him with questions.
As we head down to the next floor it also becomes obvious that I’ve been temporarily housed with the paralegals in a cubicle area of a large shared space in the middle of the floor.
“Here’s your temporary office,” Claude says, and hightails it back upstairs. “Sandy will help you get set up.”
I wish I could call out after him that it’s not nice to pretend a cubicle is an office and then run away once the truth comes out. But he is so damn cute that I’ll let that one slide.
A tall blonde woman with frizzy hair says, “Hi, I’m Sandy. Paralegal extraordinaire. Welcome to ‘Cubicle Hell,’ as it’s known around here.”
“Ha.”
I half-smile at her, not sure what to say to that that would sound appreciative of her humor yet not sound insulting to the firm. I finally remember to introduce myself.
“Madilyn St. Clair,” I tell her, shaking her hand warmly, although she doesn’t return my effort very enthusiastically.
“You’ll just work here until your wing is ready,” she says.
“And how long will that be?” I ask her.
She shrugs.
“No tellin’.”
We’re in the middle of an area bordering what looks to be a somewhat busy intersection for firm traffic. People pass us by and look at me with curiosity.
One of them is an overweight guy in a dumpy looking suit who sneers at me and says, “Good luck moving in before Christmas. And welcome to Marks, Sanchez & Reed, where the newest associates are obviously the least priority.”
“Don’t pay Steven any mind,” Sandy says, rolling her eyes. “He’s a senior associate who’s not going to make partner. He’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
She walks away without saying goodbye or telling me what I’m supposed to do now. I sit down on the pathetic excuse of a computer chair and try not to look as dejected as I feel.
Today is supposed to be my fresh start. My bright new beginning.
I’ve dumped the ex, started a new job and vowed to live a more fulfilling and exciting life. Which includes having sex for the first time ever.
The first day of my new job is supposed to be the scary and exciting part but I sit and stare at the computer that won’t turn on no matter how many different ways I try, while trying to ignore the bustling people walking past me. I had no reason to shiver when I first got here. No one seems to know or care that I exist.
I can’t believe that just a few minutes ago I arrived for my first day as an associate lawyer, bright- eyed, bushy- tailed, ready to learn and eager to please, only to find out that there’s no room for me.
Sure, I’ve heard rumors about associate life. Every law student does. When you’re a clerk, still in law school but working for the firm over the summer, the partners wine and dine you, anxious for your commitment to work for them if you’re lucky enough to get a permanent offer.
I’d spent my summer clerkship at a different firm— almost, but not quite as, reputable as Marks. The first law firm had made me an offer to be a permanent associate after graduation, but I worked my ass off during my third year of law school and I’d gotten my GPA up to Marks caliber.
Even though I’d achieved my goal of getting an associate offer at the best firm in Albuquerque, now I’m wondering if I won some kind of booby prize. The lack of respect sure seems to take a nose dive for those moving from the summer clerk level to the new associate level.
Someone walks by and dumps a bunch of files on my desk and then says, “Oh, you’re not the new assistant?”
I look up to see an older woman in horn-rimmed glasses with her hair pulled up into a bun. I blink and realize I recognize her from my interview. It’s Gloria O’Malley, one of the equity partners.
I stand up, flattered that she’s talking to me.
“Ms. O’Malley, I’m the new associate lawyer—”
“Oh I was looking for the new assistant,” she says, barely looking down her nose at me. “I think her name is Melinda, which caused some confusion. When she gets here, ask her to start sorting these files alphabetically, will you?”
She walks off in the same direction that Sandy had, leaving me to stare in disbelief at the mountain of files discarded on my desk.
Wow.
So this is how it works now.
I guess this is my introduction to life as a law firm associate.
Chapter 2 – Madilyn
For the past hour I’ve been in my new cubicle, trying to learn about the law firm’s client file server and “brief bank.”
Mike, the IT guy, had set me up with a new computer because the one I had didn’t work, as I had already found out. Then he showed me the brief bank file and told me it’s a repository for templates other partners and associates had worked on, that I’m expected to use to write motions and other pleadings. I was happy to learn something of value.
Then Mike ran off to solve the latest technological crisis that a much more experienced partner was undergoing. There’s definitely a pecking order around here.
Suddenly, my cell phone rings.
Damn you, Jimmy.
My very recent ex boyfriend knows better than to call me on my first day of work. And my desire to avoid relationship drama was the main reason I’d broken up with him before the start of my new job.
I’m reminded again that nothing is going right today. But I guess what else should I expect, for my first day on the job, my first day at my new career, the first day of the rest of my life, which I’d carefully been planning for since I was about twelve years old?
I rush to hit “ignore,” but not before someone walks by and says “Ahem.”
I look up to see the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on frowning down at me. He has sandy brown hair that hangs over his ears. Hazel eyes that are still sexy even though they are shooting me a very disapproving look. And tall, broad shoulders and a matching chest that make me want to lay my head down on it and ask him to make this crazy day stop.
He’s quite a bit older than my normal tastes would gravitate towards— he looks old enough to be my father. But that, like everything else about him, suddenly seems s
urprisingly sexy. And I remind myself that I’ve thrown my old tastes out the window. My old tastes landed me wasted years stuck in Inertia Hell with Jimmy (which is even worse than being in Cubicle Hell by myself). My new tastes land me in Fantasy Heaven with this guy, whoever he is.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly tell him.
“Cell phones are not allowed in this area,” he says, with a stern voice that makes me immediately want to say yes sir. So I do.
“Yes, Sir.”
I have no idea why I say it other than as a natural reaction to his authoritative tone, because from the looks of things I don’t even think he’s a lawyer. He’s wearing khakis and an Oxford button-down shirt but it’s slightly open and I wish I could unbutton the rest of it.
He looks both rugged and serene, like he just got done going for an easy jog around the block or perhaps flying a kite on a far-away beach. He looks out of place, yet confident in looking out of place. And he makes me want to be in that same place with him.
“No need to be sorry, just don’t let it happen again,” he says. “You are free to step out to make calls at your leisure but this area is not for chit chatting on cell phones.”
“Yes Sir,” I say again.
Please Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance Page 45