by CY Jones
“Your description is so very detailed. How do I know you’re not looking for a short affair yourself? I’m the perfect candidate if all you want is a little fun without having to put a title on it. As long as I’m pregnant with the Hastings child, I’m legally bound from getting serious with anyone.”
“I guess I have nine months to prove to you just how serious I am,” he replies without missing a beat. As I search his eyes, I can see he’s serious. Unless he moonlights as an actor and has superb skills, he’s not shitting me.
“We'll see,” I say, taking a big bite of my muffin.
We sit and talk until he has to leave for another session. Right outside the coffee shop, he gives me a light kiss on my cheek and I almost melt right there. He wanted to walk me back to the hotel, but I assured him I’ll be fine and I didn’t want him to be late for his session because of me. The hotel isn’t far from the gym, which is why I didn’t drive. Driving in New York is bananas, which is why I lived in Jersey in the first place.
Once I get back to my room, I’m restless as I think about Rob. It figures the first time I find someone decent, I’m not allowed to get involved with them. Normally, I’d run for the hills when someone tells me they want a relationship. I think I wrote the book on friends with benefits, but Rob is different. I find with him I don’t want to run away. Fucking Grayson. What the hell have you done to me?
Giving up on trying to sleep, I check my email. When I see an email from McHottie’s HR department to his law firm, I frown. Maybe it’s some more paperwork that needs to be signed. I click on it and stare in disbelief at the job offer inside. A position as an entry level front desk secretary. It was a generous offer, but I never applied for the job, which means either Nichole or the devil himself pulled some strings. Using the hotel’s wireless printer, I print off the letter. Pissed, I grab my keys off the nightstand. It’s about time McHottie learns I’m no charity case and don’t need shit from him.
Down in the computer lab, I grab the letter off the printer myself and take the elevator to the parking garage. I could have had the valet bring me my car but I was beyond angry at this point and needed to move around or else I’d break something. Traffic wasn’t that bad and soon I’m parking right outside the intimidating looking building. The modern building was like a fortress, planted slap dab in the middle of downtown New York.
When I step off the elevator, I don’t pay attention to the view coming from the floor to ceiling windows, the expensive furnishings, or the people around me dressed to the nines in their business attire. Instead, I walk straight to the front desk and tap my finger on the counter until I get the receptionist's attention.
“How may I help you?” She asks, giving me a bright smile that I don’t return.
“I would like to see Grayson Hastings,” I answer in a clipped voice.
She notes my attitude before running her gaze up and down my body disdainfully. My hair was in a ponytail and I’m still wearing my loose fitted yoga pants and sweatshirt I left the gym in. Not at all suitable for McHottie’s law firm, but I was too pissed to even think about changing.
“Do you have an appointment?”
What the fuck? Do I look like I have an appointment? “No. Tell him Jade Cooper is here. He’ll want to see me, I promise.” This time I do smile but it’s far from nice.
She gives me a ‘yeah, right’ look, but does as I ask, picking up the phone telling him I was here. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d laugh at the look of disbelief that crosses her face. “Right this way,” she says, waving for me to follow.
She leads me down a narrow carpeted hall to where I know the partner offices are. These have wood doors where the others are just glassed off areas big enough to fit a desk, file cabinet, and not much else. Outside a double wood door, the receptionist knocks and I hear McHottie’s cranky voice yell, “Come in.” She opens the door and then steps back so I can walk past her. Once I do, she steps back into the hall, closing the doors behind herself, making me feel like I’m being locked in with this asshole.
He’s sitting behind his desk eyeing me with his intense gray stare. He hasn’t moved or even attempted to get up to greet me. His face is void of any emotion so I’m not even sure if he’s surprised to see me here. I swear he’d make a fortune playing poker.
“Jade, what do I owe this little surprise visit?” He drawls boredly.
Recovering my anger, I stalk to his desk. Bending slightly, I slap the job offer on his desk, which causes him to raise a perfectly arched brow. Taking the letter from me, he spares it half a glance before turning back to me. “You know you could have accepted the job over the web. There was no need for you to come all the way over here.”
“You think I’m here to accept the job?” I retort, flabbergasted.
“Yes. Why else would you be here?” he asks, incredulously.
“You pompous asshole. I’m not here to accept your job. I’m here to ask you who the fuck do you think you are? Do you think you can just insult me at your house one day and offer me a job the next?” I shriek.
“Will you keep your voice down? This may be a million dollar structure but sound still travels if it’s loud enough.”
“I don’t give a fuck about being heard. I deserve an explanation.”
“Nichole told me you were looking for a job, but you were only applying for shitty manual labor positions. Her old firm was full, so she asked me if we had any openings here. It just so happens the front desk receptionist just left on maternity leave early before the position could be filled by HR, so I offered the job to you before they could post it. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Did you really expect me to thank you, you asshole? This isn’t Moana.”
“What the hell, Jade? You needed a job. I got you one far better than the shit you were applying for. Do you really think you could deliver us a healthy child standing up on your feet all day doing God knows what? Or think it’s safe to work in some night club where you’ll have to fend off drunken assholes all night? Hell, that’s only one step up from the stripper pole.”
“Fuck you, Grayson. I don’t need you or your wife to solve all my problems. If you haven’t learned yet, I’m a big girl and can handle myself just fine. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was five, I don’t need you or your snooty opinions on how I should live my life.”
“How am I the bad guy here? I just thought it would be better if you work in a less stressful environment. Being pregnant is stressful enough as it is. Why add to it?”
“You think working for you wouldn’t be stressful? You don’t even like me. If you’re not fucking me into the headboard, you’re insulting me and calling me a whore. For all I know, you probably want me here to pass me around to your little partner buddies. You already think if someone shows me enough cash, I’ll get on my knees before them.”
Apparently that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back because right before my eyes, Grayson snaps and before I could blink, he’s right before me, pushing me against the wall. Bracing his hands on either side of me, he tilts his head and I feel how caged in I really am. His grey eyes are a swirling lightning storm about to happen. His beautiful face is hard, like marble. For once in my life, I feel like I’m in trouble because I can’t move, can’t focus on anything other than him.
“I’m only going to tell you this once. You belong to me, no one else. Until you push my kid out into the world, this,” he says, using his finger to lightly run a trail down my lips, neck, chest, stomach, and finally, cupping my sex, “is mine. Even here,” he replies, reaching behind me, squeezing my ass. “No one is to touch you. Do you understand?”
I’m fucking speechless. His possessive words weren’t even poetic, but I was ready and willing to jump on his dick and let him hold me prisoner forever. I really needed to get my head examined. My mama’s insanity has to be hereditary, or maybe I’ve always been sick in the head because I have no problem going along with everything he just said. Even after how he treated m
e. Not once through his whole speech did I think about Nichole until now and it’s like cold rain water is dumped on me. Shoving him in the chest, I push him far enough to escape the confines of his body. His scent is like a drug that aids my brain in my poor decision making process.
“Jade,” he growls, following after me and I throw my hand up in the universal stop sign.
“Gray, you’re killing me here. One second you’re calling me a whore and being a total douche canoe, the next you’re buying me cars and offering me jobs. I’m so confused and quite frankly, your mood swings are giving me whiplash. I never know when Dr. Jekyll is out or if it’s Mr. Hyde who wants to play. You think your wife has a new toy, but it’s you who’s playing the games here.”
He starts to move again and I find myself walking backwards with each step he takes forward until the backs of my thighs hit his desk and I don’t have anywhere else to go.
“I’m not playing games, at least not with this request. You’re right. I won’t call you a whore again, but this, this tight body is mine. Despite our situation, I do not share. Tell me you belong to me, Jade.”
I can’t deny him. The nice time I had with Rob disappears, erased from the sentence and only Grayson can fill in the blanks. I’m not surprised when stupidity takes over and I’m nodding my head while saying, “Okay.”
Before the word leaves my mouth, he’s slamming his mouth to mine. His kiss is just like him, intense and all consuming to the point where you have no other choice but to yield. I’m powerless to stop whatever the fuck this is, so when his hands move to push my yoga pants down, I let him. I feel a slight tug and then the sound of tearing and I know he’s ripped my panties right off. I’d probably be pissed if it weren’t for the fact that he was the one who paid for them. When his tongue pushes into my mouth, I allow him entry and he works my clit as he works my mouth. For the life of me, I can’t understand the why or how behind Grayson making me feel this way. I should be halting this or at least activate my common sense button and not have naughty office sex with my employer, but I can’t dig up the willpower to stop him. Just the thought of getting caught makes me even wetter, and soon, I’m cumming all over his hand. With his other hand, he covers my scream, and when my orgasm is over, he turns me around until I’m bent over his desk completely.
I can feel the cool air in his office on my heated backside and it lightly kisses my wetness from my orgasm, making me shiver until I feel his body heat behind me as he moves closer. Using my juices, he brushes the thick, mushroom head of his cock up and down my drenched folds and I moan. As soon as I do, he stops and I turn my head, looking back at him like I’m about to kill him.
“Quiet raven, or I’ll have to stop. We’ve been over the walls and the sound quality of my office already.”
I don’t get to comment on the nickname or where we even got to the stage where he can make up one for me, which is selfish since I never call him by his name in my head. When he moves his velvety cock against my folds again, I push back, accepting all of him. “Oh, fuck,” I cry before I cover my mouth to hold in my list of expletives. How could I forget how big this bastard is?
He moves like a man on a mission, making it all so difficult for me to keep quiet. His thrusts are relentless and he holds me still, pressing his hand on my back. This is a man who definitely knows how to use his equipment. Did he learn this shit in college or does he watch a bunch of porn? I don’t know how, but his dick always seems to find my g-spot, like a heat seeking missile locked onto its target. I soon give up on keeping my cries in and I grip the edge of his desk with both hands, so tight I’d probably leave my fingerprints behind embedded in the wood if I were strong enough. His big hand replaces mine, covering my mouth for me and in this position, he’s able to drill impossibly deeper.
“Fuck, you’re so damn tight. Your pussy always grips me like a vice,” he murmurs and I preen like a freaking cat at his words. “Would my little raven like to cum?” He asks between strokes and I dig in deep to remember the English language. “What’s that, raven?” He demands.
He moves his hand long enough for me to moan, “Yes please.” I don’t care that I’m begging. His dick feels too damn good to think about my self-righteousness.
Moving his hand from my mouth and back, he grips my hips tight and like a rubber band, he snaps, ramming into my body like he’s raging war and my cunt is the keep. I’m a moaning, sobbing mess, hoping he was kidding about the walls because the quiet boat has long set sail. Surely this snooty ass firm can afford sound proofing? Seconds later, I’m cumming again and I have to bite my cheek to prevent myself from screaming his name.
“Good girl,” he praises as he continues his punishing pace. Strong hands pull me to him and I move to help him fuck me. When he cums, he bites my shoulder, roaring my name into my skin. Like the first time, his dick pumps gallons of his baby batter into me until he’s filled me to the brim and it leaks out.
We’re both breathing hard. The only sound in the room is our breaths and the quiet hum of the central air. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. When he moves, he goes into his office bathroom and comes back out with a warm rag he uses to clean me up. I watch him carefully as he moves to pull my yoga pants up my body and straighten my clothes. My panties are a loss cause and he just balls them up and puts them in his pocket before pulling me flush against his body and softly kissing my forehead. I don’t know what is different but this time he’s not being a jerk. Sure, he fucked me into his desk but at least he’s not treating me like an object.
“So, I’ll see you Monday morning at 8:30 AM sharp,” he says, breaking the silence.
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“The job, raven,” he replies, reminding me of why I came here in the first place.
“I never said I’m taking the job.”
“I believe your pussy answered for you when you creamed all over my dick,” he retorts before he smiles and holy sweet Jesus, what a smile it is.
“You can’t use your dick as a negotiator,” I reply when I find my voice again.
“Okay then, how about this?” He says and then kisses the daylights out of me and I moan in his mouth. I swear my eyes just rolled in the back of my head. That’s how good McHottie’s kisses are.
“Fine,” I relent when he pulls back and I find my voice once again.
“Thank you,” he adds, shocking me. He’s never thanked me, ever. I didn’t even know the words were in his vocabulary.
I leave dazed, wondering what the hell just happened. It wasn’t even the naughty office sex, but the fact that McHottie was civil. In my car, I can still feel him inside me or is it the buckets of cum he filled me with? When I get back to my room, I think about him as the warm water from the shower soothes away my aches.
Nichole
“You know, Ms. Hastings, you really should tell your husband about this. It’s my professional opinion that your support system is crucial to the development of your health. Besides, it won’t be long before you start showing signs and he’ll guess anyway.”
“Doctor Mayfield, I appreciate your professional advice but there’s no way I’m telling my husband the cancer is back. I put him through hell the first time. He tried to hide it from me and was there for me, but I still saw. This... once he finds this out, it will destroy him.”
“As always, it’s your choice...”
“It is,” I say, interrupting him. “Is the diagnosis still the same?” I inquire. It’s been four months since the last time I was in this office and Doctor Mayfield told me the cancer had returned. I’ve been on experimental drugs while him and other doctors on the cancer board come up with another course of action. That’s when I came up with my own plan. I’m not hopeful, nor am I sitting around hoping to be cured. Nothing short of a miracle can save me. I know I’m going to die, but at least I can do something worthwhile before I do.
“Yes, the diagnosis is still the same. Your X-rays show the cancer has come back more aggressively
this time, already having traveled to your lungs and liver. I’ve presented your case to cancer boards all over the world, and we’ve all come to the conclusion that even with treatment, you still have only a year to live. We can still do surgery to have the lung removed and restart radiation treatments as well as keep you on the prescribed experimental drugs, and maybe we can buy you some more time.”
“Why?” I ask. “It will only be time spent in recovery from invasive surgeries that take so much out of me, not to mention the pain and agony from the disease. Why prolong that? If I only have a year, I want to live my life. Give my husband happy memories and not ones spent with him watching me fade away in a hospital bed or puking my guts out in the bathroom.”
“Then I still recommend you take the drugs and come in for low doses of chemo. Those treatments will not change anything you’re already going through. I’ll even suggest you start taking medicinal marijuana to help with pain management.”
I nod, agreeing. As he talks about my condition, my mind drifts off to Grayson and Jade. I figure I have less than six months before my health status comes to light. Before then, Jade has to get pregnant. I have no doubts in her reproductive capabilities, it’s Grayson I’m worried about. His loyalty to me is distantiating him from her and she won’t get pregnant if he keeps pushing her away. I was appalled by his behavior at dinner. The things he insinuated. I was even more dismayed with myself for threatening her to stay, but I couldn’t allow her to leave. She and the baby will be the only thing he’ll be able to cling to once I’m gone. I know my husband, and I have no intentions of letting him follow me to the afterlife or ruin his life because I’m gone.