Under Wraps: A Secret Baby Quarantine Office Romance (Love Under Lockdown Book 7)

by Jamie Knight

  “Please dress in appropriate work clothes,” Damien said, not even looking up as I sat down.

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor as I pushed back from the table.

  It had been another gamble, like saying I couldn’t sleep and asking for his help the night before. It hadn’t worked out as well as the night before had, but it was still worth a try. I wasn’t sure why Damien was being so cold and acting like nothing had happened. He had never seemed like the asshole type, so I figured there must have been something else going on.

  He could have just been deep in work; I knew as well as anyone what he was like with his head deep in research. It had only been a day, and not even a full day, since I had really met him, but I had watched him work, oblivious to all around him. I guessed that there could be an earthquake and he wouldn’t notice until a bit of ceiling plaster fell onto the document he was reading. He could also have the same concerns that I did, about mixing business with pleasure. So, so much pleasure!

  The firm was pretty old fashioned, still imposing dress codes and having a strict, zero-tolerance police for inter-office romance, let alone sweet, kinky fucking. While not explicitly mentioned in the handbook, it was taken as implied.

  Damien was on track to partner, the first time such a thing had happened since the firm’s founding. If what happened between us got out, he probably wouldn’t even have a job anymore, let alone a promotion. I would definitely be discarded without a second thought.

  I retreated to my part of the suite and got dressed as quickly as I could. Most of had I brought was pretty sexy, and some of it was really sexy. I was trying to make a strong impression on Damien, hoping he might notice me.

  However, he had made it clear that he was in business mode, so I decided to go with something a bit more modest: a tasteful blouse with a thin argyle sweater to hide my figure, and a skirt that went down a bit past my knees. I considered knee-socks, but I had never really gone for the schoolgirl look. Leaving my feet entirely bare, I marched out to bravely stare down the barrel of background research.

  It was almost impossible to stay focused with such supreme sexiness so close to me. I could have reached out and touch him if, I’d had that much nerve. The room got hotter as the sun got higher in the sky. Without thinking, I shed my sweater to get more comfortable. My massive tits were straining against the material of my shirt.

  To be fair, this happened with pretty much every buttoned shirt I had ever worn. My tits were so big that they never quite fit inside entirely, the material always parting around the fourth or fifth button, giving a generous view of the healthy, pink flesh beneath. It also didn’t help that, no matter how long or short my skirt was, my ass was pretty hard to ignore, my hips wiggling as I walked, my tits bouncing in time.

  It was quite a display even going down to the corner store. The beach was even worse; even the most modest of summer clothes made me come across like a sex kitten, let alone a bathing suit, or God forbid, a bikini. Horny boys from 19 to 90 literally drooled over me. I couldn’t actually remember the last time I had gone swimming.

  It didn’t end with the sweater. As the day went on and the temperature rose, the buttons on my shirt began a downward trend. I swear I didn’t notice. I didn’t even look. I kept my eyes on the scripts as another button came loose.

  I began to wonder if I had just been convenient. A toy for Damien to use for his own pleasure, never to be used again. It was this last part that upset me most. It wasn’t the idea of being used; I wanted to be used, to be controlled and submissive to my sweet master. I just couldn’t stand the thought that it wasn’t true. That Damien wasn’t really my sweet master at all, and never wanted to touch me again.

  I felt a whimper come up from my throat, the idea being almost too much to bear. I barely swallowed it down in time. I had no idea what he would have done if he had heard me. Would he yell at me, berate me? Would he hurt me? Or, worst of all, would he do nothing at all? Pretend I didn’t even exist? A spanking, even with a switch, could never compare to the pain of that. To think you had an honest connection with someone, even if it was only sexual, and then find out that you were wrong.

  I almost cried when it happened: a move so subtle I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it had happened at all. Just a flick of the eyes. Then another. It was true. It was real. He was looking at my tits. He wanted me, even if he shouldn’t. Even if it was wrong. He wanted me. And I wanted him.

  Slowly, and without looking at him, so as to not make it obvious what I was doing, I undid another button. My shirt was flying open, barely able to contain my tits. Only the bottom three buttons were still fastened.

  He took a real look then, both long and longing. His gaze pulled to my beautiful, bountiful bosom as though by magnets. Taking the waistband of my skirt, I slyly wound it, puling the hem ever upwards, over my knees, over my lower thighs, and beyond.

  “Stand up,” Damien ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered in my “pet” voice.

  I pushed the chair back and stood before him. My skirt was, at that point, much closer to a belt, barely touching my hips, though still being technically long enough to go out in legally.

  Pushing himself back from the table, Damien looked at me, cupping his hand against the raging hard-on pressing up against his pants. He didn’t do anything for a long moment, just stared at me and played with himself. I stood still, like a good girl, arms by my side, gaze on the floor, waiting for my master’s orders.

  “Come,” he said finally, sparking every nerve and synapse inside me.

  Resisting the urge to run, I went to him and stood beside him. Taking me by the wrist, he pulled me down, spreading me out over his lap. I could feel the bulge of his imprisoned cock pressing into my belly. I liked the feeling and took solace in it.

  “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, a thrill running through me.

  “You were showing your body. Trying to tempt me.”

  “Yes, sir, I was.”

  “Are you a dirty little temptress?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Say it!”

  “I’m a dirty little temptress!” I said, the words coming out almost as one.

  He lifted my skirt and put a hand between my thighs, stroking my pussy through my panties.

  “That wasn’t very nice, was it? Distracting me while I was trying to work.”

  “No, sir, it wasn’t. I am very, very naughty.”

  “You do realize that I am going to have to punish you.”

  “Yes,” I said, the word coming out like a sigh of desire.

  Using one hand to hold me down, pressing me even harder into his cock, he used his other hand to pull my panties down and off; I bent my knees to help him near the end. Forcing my legs apart with his hand, he softly stroked my pussy, making me hum with the pressure. If that was meant to be punishment, I was all for it! Pride comes before the fall.

  The first strike landed hard, the flat of his palm meeting the flesh of my ass with a resounding smack. My whole body jerked as I let out a yelp of pain, but Damien held me fast as he struck again. He gave me two more spanks on the other cheek to even things out and then began to gently massage me, kneading soft, reddened flesh as though it were dough.

  I again hummed with pleasure, my pussy getting almost embarrassingly wet. It was clear to both of us that I loved rough treatment – or, more accurately, I loved rough treatment immediately followed by soft. There was something about control and roughness that both mentally and physically prepared me, making the pleasure even more intense. As good as Damien was at the rough stuff, I also had to give high compliments to his aftercare.

  After holding me down on his lap and fingering me until I came, Damian picked me up with both arms and placed me on the floor in front of him so I was knee high, leaning between his legs. I leaned in, putting my hands on my thighs and watching, licking my lips with anticipation
as Damien unzipped his pants.

  His beautiful cock was already rock hard and ready for me. My nostrils flared with just the smell of it. I could hardly wait to get it into my mouth.

  “Suck,” Damien said.

  Like a shot, I was off to the races, sucking and pumping his massive shaft for all I was worth, getting it more than halfway onto my mouth. He held still but moaned, putting his hand on the back of my head, urging me to go even deeper.

  Taking as this as both command and compliment, I took a breath though my nose, closed my eyes, and deep-throated, getting his cock a surprising distance down my young throat before needing to release for breath. Doing that a few more times, feeling for one brief moment like I was bobbing for apples, my sweet master gifted me with his cum, blasting a massive torrent right down my throat with not a single drop wasted.

  Taking me gently by the shoulders, my sweet master guided me to my feet. Taking me by the hand, he led me around to the side of the table, far from the work documents, and bent me over. He wound my braid around his hand, taking control, using his other hand to finger me deep. His strong, gentle fingers worked inside my tight pussy, getting me ready. Within minutes, I was coming all over the place, ready for anything he might want to do.

  What he did was slide the bulk of his cock into my pussy, stopping at about half mast. Easing into it with short, sharp pumps, he kept going harder until he was pounding me so hard that the highlighters went bouncing from the table and onto the floor. My screams were muffled by his hand.

  I felt the rushing flood as Damien came inside me, warming me to the core. I didn’t know if he had done it on purpose or not, but, either way, it was lovely. It was irresponsible and stupid, and I should have been worried, but, for some reason, the panic never really struck me.

  I was too wrapped up in my feelings for Damien and my relief that he still wanted me. I didn’t know how it would affect things between us, it still being too early to call it a “relationship,” or what might happen when things got back to normal, but I decided to just enjoy it while we were there.

  He braced me against him. Good thing, as my knees were being quite useless at the time. He released my braid and kissed me on my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More than okay. I love it. Though, I’m not sure you do.”

  “Hey?”

  “I mean, it’s really fun. Of course it is. But, you just seem a bit conflicted. I think we should talk about where we’re headed before we do it again.”

  He gently pulled out of me, stroking my pussy as he went to make things go easier, filling me with pleasure once again. Damn, he was good at that.

  “That’s fair,” he said, cleaning us both off, “to be honest, this is all pretty new to me, too. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I don’t know what will happen, especially with work, but I do want to keep doing it. Come what may.”

  I could feel them fluttering in my stomach: huge, colorful butterflies of love and hope. As we finished the work for the day, I would occasionally glance at him. Damien appeared to have changed. For better or worse, I couldn’t quite tell, though I did hope that things could work out.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma

  It was like veil was lifted. Things still weren’t perfect, of course, not at least because of the situation we were in. There were still a lot of unknowns, though I still felt like we were on much better footing. We’d had wonderful sex without things getting too uncomfortably weird when it came to work, at least not for very long, and we’d had something resembling an open discussion about it.

  At the very least, I knew that that he had some sort of feelings for me, and that I had had affected him in a way no other woman ever had. It wouldn’t be right to call it “love,” but it was something powerful and beautiful, and not to be dismissed. Even if it turned out we were best as “fuck-buddies,” just two extremely sexually compatible friends who had fun, I was pretty sure I could handle that.

  He was the only man I would ever let touch me; as long as we could be together in some capacity, I would at least be content. I wanted a lot more, though. Marriage, kids, a happy life together… but, I also knew that life is rarely that wonderful.

  We worked clear though to dinner time. It was then, and only then, that I realized that we didn’t really have much food in the suite, and that delivery might be awkward. Donning a designer face mask and pure leather gloves, Damien went out to get groceries, coming back with several bags full.

  Assuming he expected me to cook, I started to get up so I could go over and join him. My sweater and skirt had returned to their original state; I wanted him to fuck me again so badly, but I also knew that the work was really important. It was what we were there to do, after all. Keeping my focus on the work, I did my best to be a good girl for my sweet master.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, instinctively going into my submissive voice.

  “Sorry, I just need that script done. I am more than capable of cooking.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course I am. This kitchenette is actually pretty well set up. I’m going to enjoy this.”

  Changing into a sweatshirt and shorts to avoid getting any unfortunate stains on his lovely work clothes, Damien set about cooking a gourmet-level meal as I finished the last of the scripts before we went into dictation.

  “Wow!” I said, nearly orgasming at the first bite of food.

  “Went to cooking school in Italy. I almost finished too.”

  “Why did you quit?” I asked.

  “Oh, I didn’t, my parents found out what I was doing and ordered me back immediately. Or, rather, my father did. My mom was an opera singer who had more of an appreciation for the arts. Dad’s personal motto was, ‘If it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense.’ Grammar was never his strong suit.”

  I giggled, nearly choking on the mouthful I had been chewing at the time, making quickly for the glass of red.

  After dinner, Damien cleared everything away as I finished off the script. It was amazing to watch him speed read. I didn’t know he could do it, even with the highlighting, but he did, getting through the entire script in a little over a half hour. When he was finished, I had a bit of a break as he processed it all, lying on the couch, eyes closed, his fingers steeped on his chest. He was like Sherlock Holmes trying to unravel a mystery.

  He jumped up in a way that made me scream a little in surprise, apparently full of new vim and vigor.

  “Get out the laptop!” he said like a declaiming king.

  Immediately obeying, I tried desperately to keep up as he dictated his argument, pacing around the room at high speed. I only understood about half of what he said, but still took it all down as faithfully as I could.

  It was wonderful, being naked. I had never been great friends with the notion of bras; the one that I was wearing was flung across the room with abandon. Getting into something a lot more comfortable, fleece pants and a hoodie, I turned down the duvet, ready to go to bed as Damien reviewed the dictation, editing as needed. The knocks were light and rapid. There was only one person in the world it could be.

  “Hi,” Damien said, having calmed down a lot since his strike of inspiration.

  “Hello, sir,” I said, not sure if we were still being business-like or not.

  “Could you be a dear and go down to the desk to see if they have Kicking Horse? I’m neck-deep in the revisions and need a pick-me-up. I meant to get some at the store, but the shelves were bare. I called down to have them send some up, but they’re not picking up.”

  “Okay,” I said, ready and willing to fulfill his every wish and command.

  Skipping the silent elevators, I took the stairs down to the lobby; I was pent up with quite a bit of sexual energy that I figured I would have to work out myself, with Damien being so busy. The girl at the desk was nice enough, if a little ditzy, especially for someone working in such an elite hotel as the S
eventy.

  “Really?” she asked though her mask. “Didn’t see a light flashing or anything. Really sorry about that.”

  With several more apologies, she went into the back and came out a few minutes later, still apologizing, but also carrying a bag of ground coffee, which was really the most important thing.

  I pushed the button for the elevator, once again tuckered out enough to want to go to bed. It had been a long but productive day, and the project was nearly finished. It really was a masterpiece of evidence and reason. I didn’t know much about such things, but I really couldn’t see a way that he could lose.

  The lock clicked softly, granting me entrance to the suite. Damien was nowhere to be seen, so I figured he must be in the shower or something. Putting the bag down on the counter of the kitchenette, right next to the coffee maker so it would be easy to find, I went to the adjoining bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I went.

  I could have cried, the shock so severe and sudden I actually dropped to my knees. In the middle of the bedroom, naked as the day he was born, was my sweet master, his beautiful cock hard and ready to pleasure me. Scattered around him on the floor were pink and white rose petals, formed in the shape of a heart and repeated on the bed itself. So, that was why the clerk hadn’t seen any calls. It was all a cunning ruse to get me out of the room. Very clever.

  “I’ve called for room service. They will be up in about an hour to set up so we can eat after. I figure you’ll need some energy when I get through with you… Though, for right now, why don’t we get right down to it and celebrate our love properly?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, tears of joy streaming down my face.

  He scooped me up into his strong arms and carried me over to the bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Damien

  She really was quite light. I loved being able to carry her around, her arms wrapped around my neck, her face pressed gently to my chest. I walked though the roses, laying her down in the middle of the heart. Her legs opened as though by instinct, so I backed away to look at her. It was interesting how closely her delicate, pink pussy resembled the delicate, pink petals.