by Izzy Sweet
“Dammit, I really gotta pee.”
* * *
After Colt unties me, I quickly take care of business and return to bed. Keeping his promise, Colt lets me sleep in. We don’t officially roll out of bed until nine ‘o’clock or so. I can’t remember the last time I slept in so late—it’s been years. Must have been back when I was fourteen, in eighth grade before I started working.
We shower together, which in and of itself is amazing. I love the way he loves to take care of me. Running my hands all over his slick, hot body is just an added bonus. He takes extra special care to suds me up from head to toe—scrubbing every inch of me—only to ruin it by pressing me against the shower door and taking me from behind.
We take our time getting dressed and leaving the apartment. I’m just a little perturbed when I discover he had some of the things he purchased sent to his apartment for me, like he counted on all of this happening. But after the amazing night, I don’t want to linger on it. I’m well-rested and well-loved today. It’s improved my outlook greatly, so I’m just gonna roll with it.
We stop for coffee and donuts before I get my official first look at his office—and thank god he has an actual office. I was getting a little worried yesterday when we didn’t get around to me seeing the place. The agency is located downtown in the business district, on the fifteenth floor in one of the taller high rises. It’s the real deal. As soon as you step off of the elevator there’s a giant mural on the wall welcoming us to Jackson’s Sports & Entertainment Management.
“Like it?” Colt asks as I linger in front of the mural, admiring it.
The mural is made up of several athletes playing different sports. The athletes are painted as black silhouettes against a brightly colored graffiti style background. It comes off as very hip, very modern.
I nod my head and smile at Colt. “It’s nice. It definitely grabs your attention.”
He grins. “My buddy did it for me. He’s an amazing artist.”
“Oh?” I ask, as he leads me down the hallway by the elbow.
“Yeah, perhaps you’ve heard of him. I think now he goes around as Bane?”
“The street artist?” I ask in disbelief. Bane started in the ghetto, in my neighborhood in fact. Now he’s famous, world known. His “graffiti” now protected and celebrated art, even in the projects.
“Yeah, we went to school together,” Colt nods, and let’s go of my elbow long enough to pull open the double glass doors leading to reception.
“Is there anyone you don’t know?” I ask as I step in.
He follows behind me, chuckling.
I’m introduced to the receptionist, a young, perky girl about my age named Elizabeth. She’s bubbly and extremely friendly. She chats me up the entire way to Colt’s office, explaining how excited she is to work with me—apparently she’s already heard so much about me. According to Colt I’m like, super awesome.
I feel a little… I dunno… funny knowing that Colt has been singing my praises behind my back. I mean, I haven’t really done anything to deserve it yet. But I will if given the chance. Knowing, though, that he’s talking about me to other people is kind of exciting. It shows he’s serious—super serious.
Colt’s office is exactly what you would expect of the big shot running the place. His space is no doubt the biggest in the building, and with the entire back wall being a floor to ceiling window, I bet he has the best view. The entire place is super modern with clean, sharp edges and bright colorful colors contrasting against all the high tech metal looking stuff. There’s a large dark mahogany desk, a few swivel chairs, a wall covered in several flat screen TVs. Not to mention a basketball hoop that seems to function as the trash can. There’s also a section that is used for entertaining: a small bar, a brown leather couch, and a couple of recliners.
His office is freakin’ bigger than my entire apartment. I see a couple of doors as well, no doubt he has a full bathroom and a walk-in closet.
After a quick look over the room, Elizabeth excitedly leads me to my office next door—which apparently has already been prepared for me. When? I wonder. Did he set this all in motion before I even agreed? He couldn’t have had everything set up for me this morning… He’s either disgustingly cocky or too used to getting his way.
Or maybe he’s just wasn’t going to take no for answer.
My office is half the size of Colt’s, and the first thing I notice is that there’s a door connecting it to his. I suppose it makes sense, me being his assistant, he’ll need easy access to me. But our offices are literally next door to each other, he could just walk to mine through the hallway, or vice versa. The door definitely screams that he wants access to me without anyone else noticing.
At some point while Elizabeth was showing me around Colt disappeared so I take a few minutes to get acquainted with my new office. I have everything I need—a desk, a computer, post-its, and pens. But there’s also a sleek and shiny new cellphone waiting for me. I pick it up and flip through to the contacts. Colt is number one, followed by the number for the front desk, and various other names I vaguely recognize. I figure they must be the athletes or other famous people we’ll be working with.
I sit in the chair behind my desk and swivel in it. Elizabeth had to return to her phone so now it’s just me. I take a moment to just let everything sink in. This is now what my life is, this is the new me.
Business professional Whitney.
I scoot up to my desk and boot up the computer, figuring I should get myself familiar with the system. After logging into my email and finding it empty, I become bored and start swiveling in my chair again. I’m spinning around, seeing how I can dizzy I can get, and completely miss the door connecting my office to Colt’s office swinging open.
“Whitney,” Colt says, scaring the shit out of me.
I stop spinning so abruptly the chair tips over, with me in it.
Laughing, Colt helps me to my feet and thankfully nothing seems to be broken—except for my pride and confidence. After checking me over with his hands Colt asks if I have any boo-boos he needs me to kiss.
Scowling and shaking my head at him, I tell him, “No.”
“Good,” he answers with that grin of his that makes my insides flip. Grabbing me by the elbow, he leads me to his office. “Time to get started. There’s a lot of work that needs our attention.”
* * *
If I truly believed Colt was just giving me a position as a front for what he really wants from me, I’d be sadly disappointed. The position is real, and Colt has a real need for me. He’s swamped with work, and I’m surprised to discover most of it is helping the athletes he manages manage their money.
For the better part of the day I’m on the phone, returning calls and touching base with his clients. Once all his calls are caught up, Colt plants me behind his desktop computer which I use to shoot off an endless amount of emails. He sits beside me with his cell phone attached to his ear in front of his laptop. The two of us are just tapping away.
When Elizabeth arrives with our lunch, she takes one look at us and remarks with a smirk, “You two make quite the team.”
I blink up at her, my vision blurring. I’ve spent too long staring at the screen.
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Colt smiles politely. “Just leave it here.”
Elizabeth smiles and nods, and the slight way she blushes as Colt smiles at her fills me with instant jealousy.
What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be feeling that.
Elizabeth sets up our lunch for us on the desk.
Colt thanks her again and asks her not to disturb us for the rest of the day.
I shake my head, trying to shake away the blurriness and the jealousy.
Colt looks at me after she walks out and asks, “Is everything okay? I’m not being too rough on you for your first day, am I?”
“No, you’re not being too rough on me. I enjoy a challenge.” I try to smile but it’s tight, and I only end up wincing. Reaching up, I rub
at my temples, attempting to rub some of the pain away. “I’m just not used to talking so much, or staring at a screen for hours.”
He nods his head in understanding. “Come here.” Reaching for me, he grabs the handles of my chair and uses it to roll me closer to him. He pulls me from my chair and positions me on his lap. Reaching up, he gathers my hair up and pushes it over my shoulder. Then he begins to massage my shoulders for me.
“Colt,” I stiffen on his lap just as I feel him stiffen beneath me. It feels good what he’s doing, really good. His fingers dig deep and I can feel the tension just oozing out of me. But I’m mortified someone could see this. I’m still terrified of what people would think. “What if someone walks in?”
“I told Elizabeth not to disturb us for the rest of the day,” he says huskily, his warm breath hitting the back of my neck.
“Someone could still walk in…” I protest softly.
“And I’ll tell them to walk the fuck out.”
“But they’ll see… this. See what you’re doing to me.”
Grabbing me by the hips, Colt turns me around, forcing me to straddle him. “And?” he asks, lifting his brow at me. “So what if they see this? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“No,” I immediately answer, completely surprised by the suggestion. “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. You should be ashamed to be seen with me!”
Colt’s face hardens with anger. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down like that. You’re fucking beautiful and amazing, Whitney.”
I shake my head slowly and try to explain, but feel like by trying I’m just digging my own grave. How can he understand? We’re not even on the same plane. “It’s not that…It’s just…”
“Just what?” he asks angrily, his grip on my hips tightening.
I turn my face, unable to look him in the eyes as I say, “You’re too good for me.”
“No. You’re wrong.” I feel him rock his hips up, grinding his hard bulge against me. “You were made for me, Whitney.”
“Colt,” I gasp, squirming on his lap as that hard bulge of his rubs me in all the right places.
“You’re mine, and this isn’t temporary.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes snapping to his face in surprise to find his blue eyes glaring back at me.
“You’re mine and I’m not letting you get away. You need to stop holding back, and stop worry about everything.”
“But…” I start and he makes an annoyed noise in his throat.
“But,” I go on, even though he’s shaking his blonde head. “I work for you, so this makes it all a little weird. You’re my boss for fuck’s sake.”
“So?” He stands suddenly, his hands lifting me. He takes one step towards his desk and leans me back. I clutch at his shoulders, afraid that he’ll drop me.
“So fucking what,” he growls as he lays me out on his desk, lowering himself down. “We make a great team. It’s only complicated if you want it to be.”
“I don’t want it to be complicated,” I deny before his head lowers and his lips press against my lips. He kisses me tenderly, rocking his hips, grinding himself against my pussy. I feel myself melting, all the resistance leaving me.
“Then why are you holding back?” he asks huskily, staring me down. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” I whisper.
“Liar,” he growls, his eyes flashing. “What are you afraid of? Tell me.”
I press my lips together and turn my face away. I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. If I tell him it will make me even more weak.
I need to be strong. Being weak is only for the privledged.
“Whitney,” he snarls and then he’s nuzzling his face against my neck. His hands grab my hands and yank them up, pinning them above my head. My heart stutters in my chest, and then it’s freakin’ galloping. “Tell me.”
When I don’t answer, his teeth scrape against the tender spot on my neck. “So last night didn’t convince you?”
It did, in the moment. But in the light of day all of my fears have come back to nag me.
The question tries to stick in my throat but somehow I push it out. “What do you want from me?”
“You,” he answers instantly. “I want you. Only you, Whitney.”
I want to believe him, I do. But I can’t get over my own hang-up. I can’t just accept that someone as awesome as him would want someone as pathetic as me.
I take a deep breath and it takes every ounce of courage I have inside me to ask him, “For how long?”
His brows knit together as he rears back in surprise. “What do you mean?”
I find his eyes and force myself to stare into them, hoping I’ll be able to tell if he’s lying. “How long until you discard me?”
“You think I’m just going to use you up and throw you away?” he asks, as if I just hurt him.
Fuck, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. Especially when his grip on my wrists loosens and he continues, “You think so little of me?”
“No,” I frown. “Yes. Fuck. I just… I don’t know…” I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling his heat leaving me. I’m so fucking pathetic. I can’t even explain this crap correctly. “I don’t think you would hurt me, but… it’s just what I know. What I’ve seen.”
His voice is quiet, too soft as he asks, “What do you mean?”
“I’ve watched so many men just use my mom, and in the beginning it’s always the same. They’re full of promises, full of gifts. And then something happens and they’re done with her. They get what they want and they leave.”
He says, “I see.”
I feel a little sick after admitting what I’m afraid he’ll do to me. I wish he hadn’t pushed me. Things were going so great. I was perfectly fine with accepting that everything is just temporary.
“You still think I’m going to let you get away. You still haven’t realized that you’re mine. You’re mine, dammit.” His body slams into mine. I rock against his desk with a squeak. “How many fucking times do I have to say it? You belong to me, Whitney.”
“Colt,” I say, my eyes flying open only to see him coming back down to pin me with his weight. His body crushes me as he completely covers me.
“Whitney, Whitney, Whitney,” he says, shaking his head, tongue clicking. “What am I going to do with you?”
I struggle beneath him, trying to push up but just his weight alone is enough to keep me pinned in place.
“Relax. You’re safe,” he rumbles and his chest vibrates against my breasts. “I won’t hurt you. I swear on everything I own, on everything that I am that I’ll protect you. All you have to do is let me.”
“Why?” I gasp, my throat tightening and my eyes stinging. I want to believe him; I want to get over this shit. I really do. I want what he’s offering more than anything. But something inside me won’t let me. If only I could believe…
“Let me in, Whitney,” he demands.
His nose nudges at my face but I turn it away. When he kisses me, when he looks at me, I just can’t think.
“You’re going to hurt me, Colt, I just know it. If I trust you, if I make myself vulnerable to you, I lose all that I have left in this world besides my family—me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he growls. “Stubborn woman.”
“I want to believe you…” I sigh, and go limp. Giving up, I accept his weight.
“What can I do to get you to trust me?”
I think for a moment. “I just need time,” I say tentatively. He lifts up on his elbows and strokes my hair back. “Everything is moving so fast…”
Colt nods his head in agreement. “It’s moving fast for me too, but I’ve never felt like this about someone before. I can’t let you get away. I act fast, I make quick decisions. You learn fast in this business there’s the quick and there’s the hungry.”
“But this could all be a hasty mistake…”
“I know what I
want, dammit. And I want you.” He grinds his hips into me and he’s still hard. I groan and writhe as warmth floods my belly. “Does this feel like a mistake?”
“No,” I gasp as my own hips start rocking. “It’s feels too good to be true.”
“No, it’s not too fucking good to be true,” he snarls and reaches down, yanking up my skirt and ripping off my panties. “Get with the program. This is reality, Whitney.”
“Colt,” I gasp as the cold air hits me. He’s too busy though unbuckling his pants to look me in the face.
I want him, I want this. I tingle with all this unspent energy, but he seems too angry. I’m just a little afraid he might hurt me—yet I find even that possibility a little exciting.
“You want time. If I give you time, do you think you could learn to trust me?” he asks as he fumbles with the buckle on his belt.
“Yes,” I answer breathily. I’m so excited, he’s barely touched me but I’m flushing with heat and panting at just the possibilities.
I want Colt to take me. I want him to prove to me he means what he says—that he knows what he wants and he wants me. If this is who he truly is, if he continues to be good to me, I can see myself trusting him. I can definitely see myself falling in love with him. After all, am I not already just a little in love with him? Isn’t that what is truly scaring the crap out of me?
“You want time?” he grunts as he reaches into his pants and takes himself in his hand. “You’ve got my time, but I’m going to demand you spend every waking moment with me.”
I moan and writhe as he guides the crown of his cock to my wet sex. I’m so wet already, so swollen. Suddenly I feel so damn needy.
“Every fucking moment, Whitney,” he grunts, sliding his hot, throbbing cock through my slick folds and along my seam. “Every fucking moment, I want you with me.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his ass. I want him inside me, I need him filling me.
He groans and rocks forward, the head of his cock entering, but only slightly. He’s giving me just the tip. For whatever reason he’s holding himself back.
“Do you understand?” he asks, his voice strained, his own breathing coming out in labored pants. “Will you give me every moment, Whitney?”