And since I’ve moved back to Brooklyn, where my family had put down roots so long ago, I learned that that branch was in financial trouble, and I thought it would be nice to give them some money, even if it was only a little bit.
I certainly never imagined that the library would be given that much money.
But I don’t want to tell Bryan all of that. Not yet. It would be too much, too personal, too fast.
Sure, I’d have sex with him and let him do things to me that no other guy has, but telling him about my family seems too intimate, and I don’t know yet where the relationship would go.
But Bryan seems to know where it’ll go.
“I want to show you something.” He guides me into the bedroom and pushes me onto the bed. His duvet cover is made of luxurious cotton, and his bed has the softest sheets I’ve ever felt.
He slips a black silk mask out of his nightstand drawer.
“Can I put this on you? I want you to be able to focus only on your own pleasure. I don’t want you to be distracted at all. By work, even by me. May I?”
The idea of having all of his attention lavished upon my body awakes a deep flutter in my clit, and I nod. I try to loosen an affirmation from my throat, but my mouth feels dry.
“Yes.” I’m finally able to choke out my approval. My own word sends a shiver through me and my pussy gets wet at the idea of having Bryan do things to me that I can’t see.
“Then lie down and let me do this to you,” he growls.
Let me do this to you.
As though he is going to take no mercy on my body, that he would take total control of me, and that all I need to do is give in and let him.
I lay back upon the bed and draw in a sharp, short breath. I felt as though my body could already burst, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
With a jolt, I feel my body plunging back onto the bed, accelerated by Bryan’s firm hands upon my shoulders. He slips the blindfold over my eyes and ties it in a neat package around my loose wavy hair.
He slipped a hand up my thigh, and discovers that I’m not wearing any panties.
“You didn’t wear any panties to the auction, knowing that you could be going on a date with any one of those fucking losers who was desperate to talk to you?”
“No,” I say. “I knew I would only be with you.”
“That’s a good girl. You’re only mine.”
He parts my folds and finds my clit, and with three fingers, focuses on that part of me. I feel all the blood in my body flow there, filling me with a pounding rush. Even though I’m wearing the blindfold, I’m not rendered unable to see. Not exactly. I can see the dark expanse of a room in the dark, the kind of vision that I feel is only possible when gliding against a lover with the lights off.
I feel my hands being grasped, my fingers being locked into his, and my hands being placed gently above my head and tied together at the wrists, bound and immobile and being tied again to the frame of the bed.
I moan as my vision shifts from blinding black and blinding white, his fingers gliding past my folds and deep into her.
“Shhh, my darling. You’ll lose your voice.” He clamps a hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out, as his smooth, thick cock slips into me.
The first time I’d had sex was last week at the bar, at Bryan’s 30th birthday. I felt dizzy and bubbly then, my fears cast aside by adrenaline and enough sips of beer to make me feel bold but not intoxicated. Now, stone sober and tied up by him, I am being fucked again, but this time in a bed.
Bryan moves himself away from my slit. He slides his hands over her body and intoxicates me with his touch, moving his hands down my sides and onto my legs, pushing the dress up around her waist.
“Bend your knees for me, baby.”
He slides his hands up under my ass and spreads me apart with his fingers, kissing me where I need it. He grasps and squeezes my ass as a thick wet tongue laps graciously at her. My tummy muscles contract as I feel wave after wave her pleasure rock through my body. I slide my fingers through his hair and draw him closer, never wanting to let him go.
“What are you doing to me?” I cry out, his tongue danced against me, encircling it and as he draws my clit into his mouth, and I lose control. I can’t help but arch my back and let out a few high moans, and as she come, his cock re-entered me. Instead of his hand against my mouth, he put his own mouth against me, drawing my breath away from her deeply.
The blinding light of the night beneath the blindfold enraptured me. But I’m still bound, and he continues to slide deep into me.
“Do you think you can cum for me again, baby? For me?”
It’s as though his words are begging me, but his body is commanding me. I won’t be able to resist having another orgasm. I could try to keep control of my body, but he’s completely, utterly overtaken me. I shudder as his cock sways in and out, his body lavishing its touch upon every inch of me. Our tongues dance and slide against each other, and as I feel his throbbing dick hit every depth of me, the darkness in front of my eyes again begins to go white.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he groans as his words send me over the edge yet again. He doesn’t let up as he explodes within her, and as my pussy contracted around him and we come in unison, I moan again with delight. But this time, he doesn’t cover her mouth. He permits me to lose all control.
“I need to see you,” he says, slipping the blindfold off my face. “Yep,” he comments, studying my face. “Still beautiful.”
Stone
Chapter One - Kate
If I told you what was happening to me, you might ask how I got here.
I might ask myself the same thing.
It started in an elevator. I’d selected my outfit carefully and done my hair in perfect waves to frame my face. I had to look perfect because the job I was applying for demanded perfection.
I stepped into the elevator, my heart beating in my chest. I was nervous, and I didn’t want it to show. I was freaking out on the inside, and even the doorman in the lobby of the building where the interview was sensed it.
“Don’t be worried about it,” he said, sliding my Driver License back to me over the cool marble of the high desk he stood behind.
For a moment, I was taken out of the stress of the day. He was kind, and his eyes told me that everything was going to be okay. I took my ID back and slipped it into my wallet, but as soon as I made my way past the desk and got into the elevator, I became a nervous wreck again.
I guess that’s how I got here. By stepping into the wrong elevator.
Or, I should say: stepping into the right elevator at the wrong time.
The elevator dinged and I stepped aside to let the two men who were already inside off.
“Going up?” One of the men pointed a finger into the air. He was dressed impeccably, from his Armani shoes to his Tag Heuer watch. He was also cute.
Really cute. Okay, he was hot. His face was slim but chiseled, with the beginnings of a beard and dimples beneath, and blue eyes framed beneath strong brows.
The other man with him was dangerously sexy in how he just stood there, unmoving, without saying a word. He was older - maybe early 40s - and he stood with his feet slightly apart and his arms crossed against his chest. I imagined that he was the younger guy’s boss, or maybe a mentor.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m going up,” I replied, completely flustered.
I stepped onto the elevator the way anyone would - by putting one foot in front of the other. I found it strange that an elevator coming up from the basement and stopping on the first floor would have two men in expensive suits riding up to the offices, but I figured they must have missed their floor and had accidentally gone to the basement.
“Here for an interview? I haven’t seen you around the building before,” the younger man said, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back against the wall of the elevator.
I went to hit the button for the top floor, but it was already pressed. It looked like I was
going to the same place these two men were going.
“Yes. I’m here for an interview.” I held up my leather portfolio filled with multiple copies of my resume, along with clips I’d written for the college newspaper and some materials I’d written when I worked in the admissions office.
“I didn’t know we were hiring any new associates,” the older man said, finally speaking up. His voice was dark and deep, and my eyes moved between the two men. If it’d been any other setting, I would have been interested in jumping on top of the younger one.
Of course I’d never do that, even out at a bar. I’d be more likely to sulk in the corner and wonder why I never got any male attention aside from an occasional cat-caller grabbing his junk and saying something gross.
“Oh, I’m not interviewing for an associate position,” I said, opening my folder. “I’m applying for a job in Human Resources.
“Human Resources? You mean dealing with people?” the younger man replied.
“Well, yes,” I said, “but I’m applying for a job writing press releases and maintaining the content on the website.”
“I see. I could have sworn you were interviewing for one of the associate positions.They could use you in legal. We have too many young people working here who don’t know their ass from their elbow. You actually look...good.”
A flash of heat started in my stomach and radiated out into my cheeks and my knees.
“I...thank you,” I managed to utter.
We arrived at the top floor and the two men stepped aside to let me out of the elevator.
“Come with me,” the younger man said, putting his hand on the small of my back as he stepped off the elevator behind me.
I was whisked past the reception desk, where a pretty, young blonde woman sat, looking bored and staring at a computer screen.
“Oh...okay.”
That flash of heat that I felt a second ago? Now I felt it in other places, too.
I walked as quickly and assertively as possible to keep up with him, but I started to lag behind. This guy could really move. We passed through the hallways of the office and he waved to people, said good morning, and made lunch plans all while we kept moving.
All the while, he kept his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to where he was taking me.
“Here we are,” he said, opening a door to an office and leading me inside. The door had the name “Casey Stone” on it, which verified that I was in the right place.
“Oh, perfect. Thanks,” I said, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the large mahogany desk.
“I’m so rude. Sorry. I’m Casey,” he said, stepping to the other side of the desk and sticking his hand out.
“What?” I said, dumbfounded. “I...I thought you were a woman.”
Now it all made sense. We had never spoken on the phone. We’d only dealt over email. Casey Stone was a dude. A hot dude. Of course, I started going back over all the stupid things I’d said in those emails. If I’d known I was talking to a devastatingly handsome guy on the other side of the computer, I wouldn’t have talked about my cat or about eating a pint of ice cream for dinner.
Casey Stone the woman was a sweet, nice lady. She guided me through the application process and assured me that I’d do great in the interview. She injected humor and fun into her emails. She referred to the firm as a family.
Casey Stone the man smelled like a testosterone factory and had a skinny black tie on, which was, for some reason, something that was supremely sexy to me. When he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, I learned that his forearms were made of pure muscle and were covered in tattoos.
Crap. I was in trouble.
Walking sex. That’s what this guy was. Casey Stone, the man, was someone I certainly would never be able to work with.
“You thought I was a woman? What made you think that?” Casey asked, stroking his chin and shooting daggers of pure hotness into my eyes.
“I...I don’t know. Your name, I guess,” I said, sinking down into the chair. “Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, perching on the corner of the desk, right in front of me.
I was face-to-face with his lap, and even though he was trying to comfort me, I was getting more and more red in the face by the second.
I looked up at him, grasping to find my composure.
“If I knew you were a man, I wouldn’t have mentioned all the dorky things I did this weekend. We were just chatting, you know, small talk. That’s not the way I usually talk to hot…”
Crap. Now I was really in trouble.
“Not usually the way you talk to who?” he asked, an amused smirk growing across his face.
“Nothing,” I said, smoothing my hair behind my shoulders like I always do when I’m nervous. “It’s nothing.”
“I have to admit, Kate,” he said, getting up and walking to the other side of his desk, “that when I started talking to you, I knew I had to have you.”
A lump formed in my throat and my clit jumped in response.
“I think you’d be a great asset to the team.” He sat down and tapped at some keys on his computer. “You’ve got a great background, 4.0 GPA in college, good internships. You’re everything I want.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone.”
“Come on, stop with that overly formal stuff,” he said. “Please, call me Casey. It’s what you called me when we were emailing.”
“It’s different now.”
“What do you mean? Now that you know what I look like?”
“Now that I know you’re a man.”
“I have to admit, Kate, that I looked you up online. I do it for every candidate we have. And when I saw your picture, I thought you were very pretty.” He laughed. “You look even better in real life.”
“Oh...thank you.”
I was suddenly regretting wanting this job so badly. I could never work with Casey Stone, because all I’d want to do is jump his bones.
I could never work with Casey Stone, because I’d imagine him in his office every day, typing on his computer and looking at pictures of prospective candidates.
I could never work with Casey Stone, because every time he’d walk past my desk, I’m smell his expensive, deep cologne and be unable to focus for the rest of the day.
I’d want to go to lunch with him, just to be near him. I never cared whether a guy had money, but all of a sudden I wanted people to look at me the way I looked at him: wondering how he was able to afford his suit. Wondering what incredible things he’d done in his life to earn the prestige and value of being able to buy anything he wanted.
Crap. I’m not a gold digger, am I?
No. I just want to get a little closer to his power. It’s intriguing.
Take, for instance, the fact that he’s the Human Resources manager. How could this job pay enough to make him wealthy? He isn’t a VP or a partner or even an associate here.
“I’d love to offer you this job, Kate,” he said, pulling me out of my fantasy.
Crap.
“I’d love to take it!” I blurted out, completely forgetting all the reasons why I could never work with him.
“There’s just one little problem,” he said, smiling and pushing his hair away from his forehead. “I have to say that I have developed some feelings for you over the past week or so that we’ve been chatting. Nothing inappropriate, but it was really nice to get to know you. So I just want to tell you that we’re going to be friends. I hope that’s okay with you.”
I swallowed hard to get the lump in my throat to go away.
“I have no problem with that,” I fibbed, biting my bottom lip.
The truth was that I didn’t have a problem with being his friend. Not at all. The problem would be that I’d think of him as someone I wanted to wrap my legs around. Like in the movies, when the guy takes the girl by the waist and pushes all the stuff off his desk and bends her over, lifting her skirt and putting his hand
between her legs.
But that’s not what friends do.
“Then I’m very pleased to officially offer you the job,” Mr. Stone said, standing up and putting his hand out.
I put my hand out in turn, and when we touched, a wave of heat hit me right between the legs.
“I’m very pleased to accept it!” I replied.
Dirty Work Page 4