Pretty Little Mess

by Rhodes, Carmel

  He fists his dick, the head red and swollen, and positions himself at my entrance. We watch with lust-clouded judgment as he rubs it through my wetness. The heavy tip flicks over my clit over and over and over again.

  “Put it in, please,” I manage before my teeth sink into my bottom lip. The anger and frustration that had been building all day melt away with each lap his cock takes around my clit. “Put it in. Put it in.” I chant on a loop. I moan as he penetrates me.

  “Mr. Anderson?” I say before I’m too lost in sensation to forget.

  “Yes, Ellie?”

  “I take back my resignation.”

  He stills, his body trembling. His forehead rests against mine. “I don’t accept.”

  “You were never meant to see that email and considering your dick is inside me, I think you can let it slide this once.” I clench, driving the point home.

  “You know the rule on employee relationships as well as I do,” he grits.

  “This isn’t a relationship. This is sex, one time, and no one will ever have to know. I need this job. I don’t have a trust fund or rich father.”

  “I know myself. I’m going to need more than one time inside you.”

  “You know the rule on employee relationships as well as I do.” I throw his words back at him.

  “Ten times.” He punctuates with a swivel of his hips. “Then you go back to being Piss Girl and I go back to being your evil dick boss.”

  Ten times is dangerous. I’m far from a hopeless romantic, but I am a realist. Neither my heart nor my job would survive. “Five times,” I counter squirming. Are we really negotiating the terms of our sexual relationship while his penis is inside of me?

  He adjusts, driving himself deeper. Yup, I guess we are. “Five times, not including this.”

  “This”—I press my lips to his—“counts.”

  “This will be quick and rough.” Max bites my lip hard, then says, “The next five will be me destroying your pussy for any man who comes after me.”

  His words are a huge red flag, but again, his dick is inside of me and having a nuanced conversation right now is pretty much impossible.

  “Fine, five times not including this, then my pussy and I,” I whisper the dirty word, “are going to find a nice man with a huge dick to settle down with, not one who is a huge dick. You can go back to banging supermodels and we’ll never speak of this again.”

  “Deal,” he agrees. His head falls on my shoulder. “Shit. FUCK.FUCK. FUCK.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not wearing a condom.”

  “Oh.” My mouth drops open. Oh. My. God. I didn’t even think about protection, I just let him penetrate me. Stupid Ellie. Stupid. “Oh!” I squirm but he doesn’t release me.

  “I should let you go.” He bites my shoulder. “But you feel too good.”

  “Max—”

  “I’m clean. I swear, just tell me you’re on the pill.”

  “I am but we should use condoms.”

  “We should.” He swirls his hips. “But I don’t have any on me.”

  Responsible and rational Ellie is screaming for me to disengage, but sexually frustrated Ellie has different ideas. “You promise you’re clean?”

  “I promise.”

  “Like, any tingling sensations and I swear to God I’m burning this place to the ground.”

  Max chuckles and the sound of it makes me deliriously happy. I grin despite myself. We are doing this. I am doing this.

  “Come on, Piss Girl,” he says slipping out of me and carrying me over to his en suite bathroom. “Let’s have high-risk sex.”

  It’s my turn to laugh as he sets me on my feet, then kicks the door shut, locking us in. He undoes his cuff links then loosens his tie while he saunters over to the shower, turning it on.

  “I am not getting my hair wet for you.” I lift my chin in defiance.

  His shirt falls to the ground. “I’m not fucking you in the shower. I just don’t want the whole floor to hear you screaming.”

  “You’re an asshole. You know that, don’t you?”

  He toes off his loafers, then pushes his slacks off before he advances. His body is lean and muscular. The veins in his forearms are quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “And you’re about to let me fuck you—six times. So, what does that make you?”

  “A fool.”

  He advances, forcing me back until my ass hits the edge of the sink. Before I realize what’s happening, he has my skirt around my ankles and tosses my blouse over his shoulder. His eyes zone in on my breasts covered by the same material as my ruined panties. “God pity’s fools and babies.”

  “Did you just compare yourself to God?” I cock my left brow at him.

  His answering smirk makes my skin warm. His hard body presses into my soft one. “No, but I’m about to bless you. Hold on to the counter.”

  BIG. DICK. ENERGY. Max has bails of it. It drips from every dip and curve of his body. I do as I’m told, gripping onto the thing for dear life. His velvety tongue flattens against my collarbone while his big hands palm my breasts. He pulls the cups of my bra down, and my nipples are embarrassingly hard. Max plants a kiss on each furled peak, then knees my legs apart. Spreading me wide, leaving me on display.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs. His hands trail down my stomach, and he grips my thighs tightly, squeezing and releasing the skin to the left and right of my center, careful not to touch where I so desperately want to be touched. My back arches in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on my clit.

  “You promised me quick and hard,” I half-moan, half-whine. I can feel his smile on my neck. Cocky bastard. He presses his other palm into my stomach, halting my movements. His teeth graze my shoulder. He continues his delicious torture, rubbing all around my sex, getting dangerously close but never quite reaching the promised land. “Max.”

  He spreads my lips apart. Two thick fingers dip inside my soaking core and a shudder racks my body. “Is little Ellie from Brooklyn going to come all over my fingers?” he chuckles, palming my slit.

  “Only if evil Max from Manhattan can make me,” I fire back, though there is no bite to my bark. His fingers squishing in and out render me all but useless.

  “Is that a challenge, Piss Girl?”

  “Okay, new rule,” I gasp. “No calling me Piss Girl when you’re inside of me.” He pumps in and out, swirling around and around, in search of the rough patch of flesh just inside my walls.

  “Bingo.” He grins up at me, his search mission a success. I can feel his fingers flex, back and forth, hitting my G-spot over and over and over and over again.

  “Omigod,” I yell as pressure builds in my core. My body shakes uncontrollably, and I literally see stars. “Yes, right there, please don’t stop,” I yell.

  “Normally, I love a screamer, but you’ve got to be quiet,” he hushes.

  Max plunges a third finger in, forcing me onto my tiptoes. I bite down on my lip. The steam from the water fills the room. Sweat rolls between the valley of my breasts, down, pooling in my belly button.

  Max slips his fingers out, taking the embarrassingly wet digits, and painting my lips with them. Then he licks the mess clean, blessing me with the most erotic kiss of my life.

  My body jolts as he flips me, pushing my torso over the sink. I barely have time to catch myself before he slams into me. My tits bounce up and down from the force. The fullness I felt when I was on the wall is nothing compared to this. The steam from the shower fogs the mirror and although I can’t see him, I can most definitely feel him. I feel him everywhere. He is on my skin and in my blood. My pussy throbs. One orgasm down and another one looms dangerously close.

  Max thrusts and grunts behind me. His nails dig into my waist as he uses my body to satiate his most base needs. Darkness clouds my vision and I free fall down a pleasure spiral, vaguely aware of Max stilling behind me.

  Suddenly, I’m empty. My arms give out and my upper body collapses on the co
unter. I absently wonder where he went, then I feel it. Warm, sticky ropes of cum splash onto my back. With one last grunt, he finishes all over my skin.

  A beat later, I feel his fingers dip into the mess. I think he’s going to wipe it up, but he writes something instead. His fingers trace the same path, over and over again.

  “What are you writing?” I ask, breathless, boneless, sated.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he grunts, then he gives my ass a squeeze. “I’m going down to shower in the gym. There’s shit in there if you want to use this one.”

  “Okay.” I manage a nod. I can feel the cum slide down between the crack of my ass. I just fucked my boss. How is this my life? Shame fills me, and I drop my gaze.

  A strong hand grips the back of my neck. His eyes fall to my chest and his thumb brushes my nipple. “No regrets, Ellie.”

  I nod and smile despite myself—despite everything. “You called me Ellie.”

  I fucked her…raw…in my executive bathroom. Then, as if that weren’t reckless enough, I wrote my name on her back in cum.

  Why?

  Because I wanted to. Because I have spent the better part of this month engaged in a cold war with my father. Because my mother’s condition is worsening, and because most nights I fall asleep beating my dick to thoughts of Ellie’s cunt. A cunt that far exceeded my expectations.

  I told Ellie no regrets and I meant it. I knew I was going to fuck her the moment that email pinged in my inbox. Her taking back her resignation threw a wrench in that plan, but by then, I’d already sampled the goods and there was no way in hell I was going to pull out. Ellie felt like moonlight, a bright spot in my otherwise dark existence.

  The thought has me turning up the speed on the treadmill.

  Five times.

  That’s it.

  Five glorious fucks, then we both walk away unscathed. I’ll feast off her magic, bathe in her coconut-scented aura, then go off and conquer the world. At the very least, Wall Street.

  A smile finds my lips as my legs push faster, my heart beats harder. I run and run, letting the music blaring through my earbuds wash out the little neon you’re fucked lights glowing brightly in my brain.

  “I knew I’d find your ass in here,” Jay says as he saunters in the gym of the apartment building where we both live with a shit-eating grin on his face. His long legs eat the distance and he roots himself in front of the machine. The New York City skyline brightens the dark sky before us, but we are both so jaded, neither of us stops to admire the view. “You’re so fucking predictable, it wouldn’t even be hard to kill you,” he says, pulling the emergency stop cord on the treadmill.

  “What do you want?” I huff, letting the belt roll me backward before I hop to the ground. I pause the music, then reach for my water bottle.

  “We’re going out,” he informs me, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I point to the display. There’s another twenty minutes left on the timer. Plus, I can still see the you’re fucked sign as clear as day, and considering I mentally referred to Ellie as moonlight, I’d say I need to do a lot more running.

  Jalen’s eyes disappear into the back of his skull. “We’re going out. If you want to work on your dad bod, hire a trainer like every other self-respecting Manhattanite.”

  I lift up my shirt. My abs glisten with sweat. “I don’t have a dad bod and I’ve never had any complaints.”

  “Chicks dig you because you’re a rich prick who drives a Maserati, not because of your abs.”

  “As long as we agree I get more pussy than you.”

  He snorts and lifts his t-shirt, his own abs on display. “Trust me, you don’t. But I didn’t come down here to have a dick-measuring contest with your sorry ass. I came to tell you to get ready. The car will be here in an hour.”

  I lift my brow and middle finger at the same time. “The last time we went out, I was hungover for three days.”

  “This isn’t a pussy mission, it’s business, although it could be both.” He shoots me a look that puts me on edge. Ellie is the current owner and sole proprietor of the only pussy I want. Though maybe fucking someone else might be just what the doctor ordered. I want Ellie out of my brain like a drunk wants whiskey. “We need your little assistant to help us hook Attar and since you failed to do the one fucking thing you were supposed to do today, we have to make a trek to Brooklyn. She works at some bar there.”

  “In Brooklyn?” I take a swig from my water bottle to hide the interest in my voice. I trust Jalen with my life, but I’m not stupid. The only way to keep a secret is to take that shit to the grave. Do I think Jay will tell anyone? Of course not. Do I think Jay will make inappropriate jokes about me and Ellie for the next year? Hell fucking yes.

  “Yes, Brooklyn. Now move your ass.”

  Sweat drips into my eyes and I swipe it away with the back of my hand. “Why can’t this wait until Monday?”

  “Was I the only one in that fucking meeting today?” He pins me with a glare so deadly I subconsciously check for puncture wounds. “We need her, so stop with the fourth-grade insults and let’s get this money.”

  I hate it when he’s right. I also hate how excited I am to go to fucking Brooklyn to see my new toy. “Fine, but I swear to God if anything on the menu has the word, artisanal, I’m kicking your ass.”

  “Yeah, right. Your pretentious ass would be right at home.” Jay turns to leave. “You’ve got forty-five minutes to get ready, then I’m dragging you out by your artfully coiffed hair.”

  My hand flies to my head, which is damp with sweat. “It’s just like this, you prick,” I yell at his back, dragging my nails across my eyebrow.

  Jalen waves his hand dismissively. “You don’t have to convince me, Max. I knew your ass in middle school.”

  Woody’s doesn’t sell artisanal artichoke dip. They do, however, sell tits and ass. “See, it isn’t so bad,” Jay says. I glance around the crowded bar. TVs line the walls and girls wearing almost nothing carry trays twice the size of their bodies.

  Aside from the hike to Brooklyn, he’s right. It’s actually not so bad, though thinking about men looking at Ellie the way they are looking at some of these women makes the little vein in my neck throb. This is why I need to fuck someone else. I shouldn’t care how other men look at her. The only concern I should have regarding Piss Girl is that her pussy is ready and weeping when I send for her.

  “I’m going to take a leak.” Jay’s hand comes down hard on my shoulder and he points toward the bar with his other hand. “She’s over there. Go talk to her and try not to jizz in your pants.”

  I nod, pushing my way toward her. She’s standing there, smiling at some prick in a Knicks jersey. Her tits are barely contained by a black sports bra with the word Woody’s across her chest. My dick lurches. “Fine,” I sigh, looking down at the traitor. I’ll find someone else to fuck tomorrow because tonight, I’ll be balls deep in my assistant’s assistant.

  As I near, a man comes up behind her, places his hands a little too low on her waist to be considered friendly, and spins her around. Blood rushes from my dick to my ears, drowning out the sounds of the bar as I push forward.

  The dude-bro whispers something to her, and she shoves his chest playfully. His hands slip lower, caressing her ass. He presses a kiss onto the spot where her neck and shoulder meet, then leaves, disappearing down a dark hallway.

  I study Ellie in that moment as she tries and fails to hide her smile. Logic and reason exit stage right as I contemplate committing murder. Yes, I entertained the idea of having sex with someone else tonight, but I didn’t act on it. For once, I’m not the asshole, especially because it would appear as if Piss Girl has an entire unaccounted-for boyfriend.

  Familiar ash eyes meet mine and a sly grin spreads across her face. A guy flashes a twenty near the other end of the bar and she holds a finger up to me. I watch her walk away, the rounded apples of her ass cheeks poke out the bottom of her too short shorts.

&
nbsp; Deciding that murdering someone in the middle of a crowded bar isn’t a viable option, I take a seat. A pair of drunk idiots argue stats next to me. The Knicks are on three of the four TVs above the bar, but my attention is on the girl at the other end. The way she moves. The way she throws her head back and laughs as she passes off a beer.

  After she hands the man his change, she comes over to me. Her hips sway and her tongue darts out to moisten her plump bottom lip. I narrow my eyes at her. Her face is the same, but something’s off.

  “Piss Girl.” I arch my brow. The woman in front of me grins and bobs her head up and down. “Wrong answer,” I growl. “But I can’t tell if I’m having a mental breakdown or if there are two of her…you…whatever.”

  She looks amused by my confusion. “How did you know I wasn’t her?”

  There are two of them. I’m fucked squared. “Do you want the truth or would you rather I lie?”

  “The truth,” Not Ellie says.

  “You smiled at me when I called you Piss Girl, and Ellie would never. Plus, your ass is bigger, not by much, but—”

  “Do you spend a lot of time staring at my sister’s ass?”

  “I make it a point to know all my staff.” I’m guessing Ellie hasn’t told her twin about this afternoon, which both surprises and annoys me. I mean, I’m glad she can keep her mouth shut, and I haven’t mentioned it to Jalen either, but still, I made her come hard—twice. That deserves a little girl talk, right?

  “All your staff or just my sister?” Not Ellie has the same feisty streak in her, and the fact that she isn’t my employee makes her even bolder.

  I shrug off her question at the same time said sister rounds the corner carrying a case of beer. She’s with the man who felt up Not Ellie earlier. I narrow my eyes as he drops his case, relieves her of hers, then taps her nose with his finger.

  I ball my hands into fists, and a low growl escapes my throat before I can push it back down. “Interesting,” Not Ellie says.

  Reluctantly, I tear my gaze away. “What’s interesting?”