by D. C. Rowley
He brings the fingers out and glares at them with a smile.
“See how wet you are for me, Ms. Akerson? I knew you’d be a good girl.” He puts both his fingers in his mouth and sucks them juicily. I stare at him with a little gain of pride inside me. He seems like he’s been wanting to take a taste at me for a while now. And he’s enjoying what he’s getting. My ego, ironically, is flattered.
His fingers move toward my mouth now and they stop near my lips. I willingly peel them open to take the fingers in. Cason’s letting me savor how I taste like. And after that I realize he’s whacking my mouth as if it was a snatch.
His cock seems to enjoy that, growing mercilessly to the largest it could get. Grabbing it on his hand, Cason directs it on my entrance.
I feel him inside me again and it seems like I can’t get enough more and more he’s moving fiercely in on me. I just wish that for a moment this was all real. I wish he were mine and we’d get to do that forever. I never felt this strong for a man before. And it’s strange that I do for him.
“Tell me how you like me inside of you…” He looks at me with a pleasurable smirk on the face, while he’s holding one leg of mine into the air and the other sideways. “Come on, Keira. Tell me you’ve been dreaming about this too.”
For some reason my mouth is glued as if I’ve dived in a honeypot and can’t get the words out of my mouth. And I do; I want to tell him that controvertibly I’ve been thinking about this too. And yet my mind refuses to obey and makes him wait on me.
“Keira?” The smirk on his face somehow starts to vanquish. “Keira…”
I open my eyes to find me best friend all encumbered upon me. “You were having one of those?” Her eyes sparkle in amusement. “Wet dreams.” She explains after my hesitation.
“Why would you say that?”
“I know everything about it. Discomfort. Pleasure. Insufficiency. Kind of hard to acknowledge how much your body tells about you.”
I don’t seem in the mood to be having this conversation with her right now. Mainly because I just happened to wake up, after the weirdest drowse in a very long time, where I was dreaming of my boss. And I was smashing him.
I would need a minute or two for sure to sort this out on my mind.
“So who was it?” It looks like Maelis wouldn’t keep up with my need of abidance. “Your smoking hot new boss?” God, can she read my mind? “That would explain everything.”
I decide not to cater to her inquisitiveness. But knowing Maelis and her persistent ways, I’m not sure how good this would keep out. Getting up from the couch and combing out the blanket with my foot, I brush the sleepiness off of my eyes with my hands and try to keep up with the new day. There are a lot of questions on my mind right now, but I’m planning on sorting that out after enjoying my morning coffee.
“You probably wouldn’t want to get on with that right this moment,” her voice keeps me from disposing of my morning coffee. How else am I supposed to make sure I wouldn’t be tangling with a rather untenable day? I need my coffee. It’s just my way of tranquilizing my nerves and preparing my mind for whatever surprises the day might slam on my face.
“What do you mean?” I turn around to get a more reasonable explanation. Trying to keep me away from my morning needs—it better be a good one.
“You might wanna attend to something else first.”
“What’s more important than coffee?” Like, pfft, I really doubt Maelis could sidetrack this one. I totally brushed her off.
Or so I think.
“Like, for instance, your boss…” she shrugs excusably.
I almost choke on the first sip of coffee in my mouth. “What did you say?” I ask hurriedly, after I gulp down with difficulty.
“He’s here.”
Maybe I need to brush the sleepiness away from my eyes, or smack my face with a bagful of ice. Did I hear that correctly? Is the hot, unbearable man who I inadmissibly had a one night stand with and who later on decided to chase after me and buy off my company, honoring me with his presence on my home? Now, he’s got the right qualities to qualify as a stalker.
“Morning, Ms. Akerson.” I hear the voice that almost makes me jump off my own skin and turn around. He’s standing there, all 6’2” of impeccable huskiness. And I’m not, let’s just say, on the best of my days.
“C-Cason?” I mumble, foolishly. “Hmm, I mean, Mr. Cardenas. What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you too, Ms. Akerson. Glad to see you’ve had your fair share of indoors cozying-up, ditching all your other responsibilities.”
Am I too sleepy, or is he mocking me? What a jerk! Just because he’s mega rich doesn’t mean he gets to fool me around like that. I shrug this thought off, since there are things of vaster importance that I need to focus on…like, have I done something to annoy him?
I mean, the answer to this question is really self-explanatory, but what I don’t realize is, what the heck did I do? I make a mental note to ask this question to myself later, since as of right now I need to dispose of other issues.
Like my boss.
Yeah, he is an issue. He’s been a pain in the ass ever since the first moment I got to see him. And I don’t mean the club, I remember nothing about it. What I mean is the morning I woke up to find myself on a bed that wasn’t mine. Couldn’t he just have left things at that? Did he really have to chase me all the way down to my work and buy off everything that was mime?
I feel like at this point he’s buying off my entire life, and I’m not really sure how to deal with that. And the fact that he’s got the looks of a cover-magazine male model does not help.
“I’m gonna need to you to specify the terms of your mockery.” I propel myself to break the awkward silence in between, but I didn’t mean to sound so autocratic.
“Oh, do you sense mockery in my tone?” I feel like he’s angry at me. I blush. Damn it! “Good, that means you got off easy. Because mocking you is not the first thing that came to mind when I drove all the way down to your apartment.”
What does he mean? What did he intend to do to me?
God. What’s wrong with this man?
The weirder thing is, is my mind renders over latent punishments he could’ve planned for me. What? It’s not like he’d spank me, now, would he?
I blush harder.
Aughhhh.
I still haven’t realized what did I do this time? It’s not like I’ve had the time of the day to sort it out, since he’s towered me with his anger and left me immovable. Literally. I look awkwardly at the cup of coffee, which remains untouched at the top of my kitchen counter and I grab my phone.
Looking at the screen, I grasp the motive of his anger. We had a meeting scheduled, like, two hours ago. And of course I’ve forgotten about it.
“I’m sorry,” I try the best puppy-like face I can come up with, in hopes that it would somehow reduce his high level of rage.
I don’t think it affects him at all.
That jerk! He came into life to turn it into a living nightmare that I can’t escape from.
Come to think of it, would it really be that bad an idea, me screwing him over? Ok, wrong choice of words, only thinking about screwing him makes me cringe. But you got the idea, anyway. Point being, if I mess it up, he’d just get tired of me and fire me. And that’s exactly what I want. I want release. I don’t want to have anything to do with this man.
And despite everything it feels like he’s pulling my strings. Which, weirdly sounds like a major turn-on, but trust me it isn’t. That’s not how I meant it anyway. And I don’t want to have that discussion right now with that unbidden part of me which enjoys the idea in a kinky way.
“Now, get ready. We have to get back in the office in less than thirty minutes, which considering the traffic and all, leaves you only with a couple of minutes to fix up the situation here. And it sounds like that’s gonna be a problem.”
I hate him. I do hate him. I hate him. I hate him, I hate him.
I k
eep saying this mantra over my head as he is summoning me as if I am his little puppy.
He looks at me stiffly and orders, “Now go on!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
{Cason}
I feel like she’s hating me right this moment. But, what can I do. I can’t help myself. I enjoy annoying her more than I ever imagined. With Keira, it feels like playing a game. And who am I kidding, at some point, I really am ticked off at her for screwing over my business without giving a damn about it, but still…there’s just this air about her that makes me regret not fucking her when I had the chance.
“Why the long face?” I ask, as my driver gets the door to my car opened and I wait for her to hop inside.
“I’m literally thinking of how I should start my resigning letter.” She says without looking me in the eye.
“What makes you think that’s an option?” I smirk and am waiting for her smart ass to scowl crazily at me.
“What do you mean, that’s not an option? It’s the all over the map right of every employee ever.” She tells me while I get inside.
“Unless you’re under a contract that tells you the different.”
“There’s no such loophole on my contract. I went over it twice. You’re really confident to think people are going to trust your manipulative ass like that, aren’t you?”
“You just forgot to mention that I’m really rich and can just as easily ruin your career or any future hope at getting hired again.” I know that I went too far with that, but I’m kinda starting to feel like she’s mine. And I don’t think that she likes that.
“No, you did not say that!” she looks at me, disgusted.
“Oh, yes, you heard me right. You’re under my terms, under my company’s influence, under my control. I think you should start by now coming to grips with it.”
“I would never come to grips with the terms settled by a man like you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I smile at her, while she just rolls her eyes and looks past the car window. Her mind is running away into the beautiful streets of downtown Seattle, and she just wishes she were there, outside, away from me.
She just doesn’t know this yet, but here with me, is the only place that she’s ever going to want to ever be. But I’m being patient and let her realize this on her own.
When we make it to my office, my P.A. steps in front of me, telling that I’ve got two investors waiting out on me and one of my exes kept sending threatening messages over the line. If I remembered who she was, I probably would understand the reason behind her anger.
Anyway, we proceed into my office as I make myself comfortable on my chair and Keira keeps staying there like a ghost.
“Have a seat,” I offer, gently. She must think I’m a monster or something, as which point, I am, but that, on all the right places.
Keira hesitates for a moment, like she’s pondering about the offer, and after that she makes up her mind and sits across the table and looks at me expectantly. She’s eager to know whatever tantrum I’d throw her way, whatever sort of mood I’d be on.
“So how was it?” I smirk and I know I’m totally blowing her mind right now.
“Hmm?” she looks at me with startled eyes. See? Mind-blown.
“The dream. Was I giving you a nice treat?”
“What do you mean?” she’s totally unprepared for this. I bet she’s trying to sort out on her head the fact that I know about it in the first place and then she can come up with a response.
“When you said you were dreaming of me—what was this dream about?” Somehow her confusion excites me. I love it how she acts as if she doesn’t understand.
“What made you come to such conclusion?”
“Because I heard you. What I don’t understand is what this dream implied, more specifically, how I was behaving myself. Would you care shedding some light on that one?”
“Um, like a jerk…” she says audaciously.
“You see, dreams have a way of coming at us in the weirdest of ways. Some say they just put an abstract reflection to what we really crave into the real world.”
“What I crave in the real world is being able to free myself from a man like you and never having to do anything with you…ever again.”
“For some reason I don’t believe you.” Her audacity is just a façade. She wants to hide the fact that she’s craving me. And I don’t know why, but I’m convinced to make her confess. She’s already writhing on her words. Even though she’s a hard one to crack, I think that somehow today she’s going to be able to do the thing all by herself. The fact that I know about the dream just took her off guards and that’s why she’s just stuttering aimlessly.
“Believe whatever you want. Your matter of belief is none of my concern.”
I get up of my chair and make a few steps near her. “I think it’s exactly your concern when this beliefs are in relation to you.”
“You know this is very unprofessional. I thought we had a meeting to attend. What I didn’t know was what the meeting was going to be about. So if my supposed dream is the matter of object, then I might just skip on it delightfully.”
I sit on the edge of the table in front of her. “Come on, I’m not asking for too much. And I think that you awe me.”
“Owe you how?”
“I was part of your dream, which makes me a collaborator in whatever vice you were dreaming of.”
“Just remind me, you are breaking how many rules of the office ethical code?”
“The real question is, how many rules of this code was I breaking in your dream?”
“Okay, I’m out.” She gets up on her feet and looks pretty miffed. Waddling toward the door, Keira thinks she’s had enough of me and she’s disposing of this situation once and for all. One thing she doesn’t know, this is only the beginning.
I mean, come on, she made things way easier for me. I didn’t order her to spend the night dreaming of me doing dirty things to her. Well, even her subconscious agrees with me. And soon she will too.
I maunder faster to the door and press my hand against the glass, blocking her way. Her jaw touches my arm, and once she realizes she’s trapped, Keira turns her head around to face me.
“Really? You’re gonna keep me from leaving the building? I thought you knew better.” She rolls her eyes and thinks she’s mocking me.
“I do…know better.” I convince her.
“Really? ‘Cause right now it doesn’t look like it.”
“I’m going to make you wanting to never leave. Until I get bored and order you to leave.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs. She thinks she got it all under control. But boy is she wrong. “Now tell me, what was I doing in your dream?”
“Or what? You’re gonna sue me?” I’m thinking of fucking her smart mouth right now and then asking how that stone-cold façade is coming up for her. I bet her mouth is good for other things other than talking.
“How about, I’d stay here cramming the doorway until you spill it out.” She looks at me like I’m crazy or something and starts questioning whether a nutty-job like me would really do that. But I’m down for it. Seriously. After all, this is entertaining.
“You were just being your annoying self that you usually are. What did you expect?” she lies.
“And what were your feelings regarding my annoying self?”
“Ugh, like always. I was bothered and wanted to get rid of you.”
“Were you though?” I tilt my head, smiling. “The fact I was chasing after you even in your dreams points the opposite. You like my presence Ms. Akerson. You just can’t admit to yourself that such a guarded girl like you would find attractive a jerk like me.”
Her face looks confused, hesitant. She’s just processing what I’m throwing her way, dealing with my blocking her way and finding everything that I’m saying to her surprisingly true. And that’s what drives her crazy the most.
“Really?” After a little moment of contemplating, she decides she wouldn’t fall for thi
s shit. She’d just keep playing her part. “Because as far as I’m concerned, I don’t recall any of this things partaking on my dream.”
“How would you like a reminder?” I tell her and tilt my head forward, as she’s really blurred out, trying to decipher what I just meant by that. But she’ll find out…as of right now. Her breath tastes like mint and morning coffee before our lips tangle. They are soft and feel like cherry. I’m guessing, her chopstick flavor. My tongue is soon exploring her mouth and what I find weird during this moment is the fact that she’s not drawing back. At least, I thought she’d keep up with her façade for a few other minutes.
But, nope. Looks like Ms. Akerson has already taken her guards off and fallen, well, to my jerk-ness. I look in her eyes for a moment and find out that she’s totally disorientated as if she’s scuffling in a new, terrifying territory.
But what terrifies her the most is the fact that she likes it.
I look into her eyes that from this near a perspective seem just so intriguing and insecure. They’re florescent and green. She’s so pretty. And I’m barely containing myself from making advances. But I’m waiting for her reaction.
But, predictably, she’s petrified.
Maybe her realizing she needs to string along with me just startles her as much me kissing her. But the time would come she realized that. Or rather, the time would come that Keira admitted this to herself. She’s known she’s liked me since the morning she woke up on my bed totally befuddled and disoriented. As much as she tried to keep herself from disposing of these feelings, she’s all defenseless and vulnerable now. Ready to throw in at the deep end.
And she’s just scared of what this end might represent.
“So, how’s that for a reminder?” I raise an eyebrow and look smugly at her. The fact that she’s disoriented doesn’t mean I get to be too.
“You’re just so…” she’s fumbling to find the right word. I bet she’s cursing her mind for being too distracted to actually focus on her façade. I raise the one eyebrow higher and wait expectantly. “Unprofessional.” She says, not sure whether this was the furthest she could go with insulting me. And really, I don’t mind. To me her insults seem just like flatters.