Chasing the CEO (The CEO duet Book 1)

by Cecilia Campos

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CHASING THE CEO

  First edition. July 13, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Cecilia Campos.

  Written by Cecilia Campos.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 – Right on track

  Chapter 2 – Life & Experience

  Chapter 3 – Nothing. Nada. Niente

  Chapter 4 - Sexcapades

  Chapter 5 - Restroom

  Chapter 6 – Game on

  Chapter 7 – No way back

  Chapter 8 – Motley crew

  Chapter 9 - Pillow talk

  Chapter 10 - Stellina

  Chapter 11 - Secretive

  Chapter 12 - Fruitcake

  Chapter 13 – (Un)planned

  Chapter 14 – Bare

  Chapter 15 - Deal

  Chapter 16 – Smart buy

  Chapter 17 – Hot tea

  Chapter 18 – The girl

  Chapter 19 – Do your thing

  Chapter 20 – That doesn’t work for me

  Chapter 21 - Salsa

  Chapter 22 – Next!

  Chapter 23 - Ill

  Chapter 24 - Zombie-ostrich

  Chapter 25 - Mask

  Chapter 26 – Sexcapade 2.0

  Epilogue

  Catching the CEO | Prologue

  Who is Cecilia Campos?

  The sense and nonsense of this book

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  Chapter 1 – Right on track

  NINA

  ‘Oh God, yes!.’

  Do you see that black Tesla parked in a dark corner over there? The one with the misted windows? If you look closely, you can see me. I’m sitting on Tim’s lap, on the driver’s side of the car. My panties are tucked to the side and my skirt is draped around my waist, while I’m riding him hard.

  Tim is a sales manager who is on the road a lot. I don’t run into him often, but when we see each other, we know exactly what’s going to happen and how we will end up. He is sweet, smells nice, and looks delicious in his gray suit, but the thing I like most about him has nothing to do with his good looks. It’s the fact that he doesn’t make a fuss. We both know this is just about sex. We expect nothing but a good fuck when we run into each other. Carefree, emotionless sex.

  While I’m bouncing up and down, I look down at him. He unbuttons my blouse and one of my breasts pops free from my lace bra. With one hand, he massages my breast, and without any heads-up, he bites hard. But not too hard. He knows exactly how to do that to drive me completely crazy.

  Oh, my God. His tongue circles around my sensitive nipple and I shiver at the intense sensation. I undo the top buttons of his shirt and gently run my fingernails across his bare neck and chest. When he takes my other nipple between his fingertips and tugs at it, I can’t help but gasp in excitement.

  My mind stops. It’s just him and me and this moment we now share. He gives me something of him and I give him something of me.

  There is no more guilt.

  No more responsibility.

  No more sorrow.

  I feel free. I feel alive. I feel happy, in an incredible adrenaline-induced rush.

  “Oh, oh, oh, I’m gonna come!” I kiss his beautiful lips and try to suppress the wonderful pressure building up in preparation of my impending orgasm.

  “Already?” Tim gasps. He runs his hands through my hair and softly pulls at it, forcing me to look into his friendly eyes. I nod, now moving harder against him. “So tight.”

  He can probably feel I’m almost there and joins my rhythm, so we can come together. I press my forehead against his and our climaxes are almost simultaneous.

  I like sex a lot. It’s not so much about chasing orgasms for me, but about the entire experience. About the unexpected meeting. His undivided attention. It’s about being desired and about the physical connection with another human being. The giving and taking and, afterwards, the freedom created by endless future possibilities. About the many other adventures that are waiting for me just around the corner. All of this combined enables a rush like no other.

  Once we’ve caught our breath and I’ve made myself presentable again, he looks me over with a mischievous smirk on his face.

  “Can I see you again next week, same time, same place?”

  There is no room for Tim in my life right now; there is no room for more than this. We really shouldn’t make a habit of this. There can be no exceptions, not for Tim nor for any other man. I decided that long ago and I will not change my mind. No matter how sweet Tim is.

  Not wanting to ruin his day, I say, “Who knows?” and get out of his car. I shut the door behind me and start walking away. With a naughty grin on my face, I look over my shoulder to treat him to one last “see you later” wink.

  “Is it too late now to say sorry?”

  At the top of my lungs, I sing along with Justin Bieber’s song like a fanatic. Or, as Anita and I call him: Lick me Bieber. Why do we call him that? He has a music video where a pretty girl licks his bare belly and we both think that’s just hilarious and silly.

  The fact that I like to sing along with my favorite songs oh so loudly in the privacy of my truck is one of my best kept secrets, but I enjoy every second of it. It makes me feel free and safe. There is nothing better to start your working day.

  The song is rudely interrupted by the beeping of an incoming phone call. I was so lost in thought that I’m startled. It takes me about a second to realize it’s Anita on the phone.

  “Hi, Tiger! Good morning to you! Got any new gossip for me today?” I greet her in my usual manner.

  “Hi, Trucker Girl! Did you hear about the special meeting the bigshots scheduled for Friday?”

  “No, not yet. I haven’t had a chance to check my e-mail yet. What are they up to now?” I ask.

  “That e-mail was sent a month ago, girl! How many times do I have to tell you to check your mail every day? Anyway, it appears that there are new developments concerning Audi USA Corporate that they want to share with us. And they would like to take advantage of the fact that everyone will be there to throw a big company party. They’re pulling out all the stops and have already booked hotel rooms for everybody in various hotels. So this will be a big deal. I can’t wait! You are going, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I’m usually always up for a party. I am a seize-the-day type of girl. But this is very last-minute, and my Fridays are always reserved for Grandma.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “No, Nina, you have to go! I need you there to make fun of those uptight corporate twits with their perfectly manicured gel nails! And John will also be there, by the way!” she says. I don’t understand why John being there should help convince me since she’s the one hung up on the guy. But it reminds me that I saw him the other day.

  “Oh, right! I ran into John last week at the resting area near Koblenz. He’s obviously madly in love with you.” Trucker John is a nice guy. A good guy, who was married for a long time and was stuck too long in a zombie-like relationship. By zombie-like, I mean emotionless and loveless ... He clearly wasn’t happy. Now that that’s finally done, he and my crazy girlfriend Anita have been seeing each other on and off, with a lo-hot of ... I have three letters for you: S.E.X.

  “If John’s there, what do you need me for? I know how this works: you’ll sneak into the next best empty office to have hot, no, steaming sex and fuck each other senseless. You’ll abandon me and I won’t see you again all night.”

  “Oh no, Nina, no need to worry about that, because I am way too curio
us about those developments they want to share with us. Normally, I know all the gossip, but they are being so mysterious about this! Nobody knows what’s going to happen. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

  Anita is a gossip addict. When she gossips, her eyes become large and her eyebrows go up. She’ll lower her voice, so you have no choice but to lean in closer to be able to hear her. She thoroughly enjoys it.

  “And as far as the sex is concerned ... I’ve decided to play hard to get Friday.” While she says this, I picture the mischievous smiling face she likes to make.

  “What are you talking about? You’re gonna deny him sex? Like you would be able to live one day without it yourself?” The idea makes me laugh. “I think he actually wouldn’t mind not having sex with you for a couple of days ... To catch his breath, you know?”

  I hear her sigh deeply on the other end of the line. “Not funny, Nina! You know, lately, he’s been acting like he’s not in the mood or something. Makes me take the initiative every time. Doesn’t take me much effort to convince him though, but afterwards, he starts whining and complaining that he was in fact too tired to do it, that we shouldn’t have in the first place. That just bums me way the hell out!”

  “Wow, I didn’t expect that from a tough guy like John,” I say.

  “Me neither. And I’m starting to get really tired of it. So, my plan for Friday is to tease him all day long. I’ll put on my tightest dress and the highest stilettos I can find. Oh, he will suffer! He will have to get on his knees, and only then will I consider letting him lick my pussy!”

  “Ew, too much information, Anita! Isn’t it still a bit too early for your dirty talk? Let’s agree not to talk about sex before noon from now on, shall we? I need a triple dose of caffeine first!”

  “You know what the last straw was for me?” she continues, sounding indignant. “The other day, he was watching YouTube clips on his tablet, but I was in the mood for sex. So, I thought, let’s take his shoes off and unzip his pants to get things started. While I was doing so, he suddenly asked, ‘What are you doing?’ So I said, ‘I’m gonna blow you.’ You wanna know what he said?”

  “I’m not sure I want to, hon.”

  Her reply comes in a loud scream, so loud that I’m positive people on the other side of the highway must have heard it. “‘No more rape!’” No more rape, that’s what he said! Can you believe that?! So, now I’m really fed up with this! It’s never happened to me before, that a man made me feel like I’m some kind of sex-addicted whore!”

  Then there is silence. I need a few moments to figure out what I’m going to say. To me, this story seems quite funny, but I’m certain that for Anita, this is a big problem. She clearly doesn’t think it’s funny at all. To her, sex is a very important issue in romantic relationships. She still believes in them.

  “Wow. I’m not really sure how to respond to that, sweetie. Are you sure he wasn’t just joking? Maybe he was just tired? Be a little patient with him. It will be all right,” I say, trying my best to sound reassuring.

  “Yes, yes, but on Friday, he’ll sing a different tune, oh yes he will!” She laughs in her own, satanic way. Like the villain in the movies—muhaha! I visualize her throwing her head back and I can’t help but laugh, although I’m starting to feel a little bit sorry for the guy.

  “Oh, by the way.” Her tone turns serious all of a sudden and Anita never gets serious, which makes me curious about what she’ll say next.

  “Go ahead,” I say, unsure.

  “John agreed to be our designated our driver Friday. That way, while he drives, I can show you the presentation that I have to present next Monday.” I should have known this would be about work. That’s the only thing Anita takes really seriously.

  “All right, darling.” Anita is very good at her job, but always looking for things to improve. That’s the reason why she is so good at it. Since I have a university degree in Business Administration, she often asks my opinion and of course, I always help her.

  Friday will be a fun day. A fun party, free booze, and my friends around me. What else can a girl ask for?

  If my life were a highway, it would be brand-new pervious concrete. Safe and easy, with a high percentage of hollow spaces.

  Chapter 2 – Life & Experience

  NINA

  It’s dark. I’m standing next to a deserted highway. It seems to be the middle of the night because the moon and the stars shine bright in the sky. There is a sharp wind blowing and I’m not wearing a jacket. No wonder I’m cold. There are so many stars... and they are so low in the sky ... I’ve never seen anything like it and it gives me the creeps.

  Where is my truck? Why am I here, all alone? There are no other cars or trucks on the road. It appears deserted and feels like a scene from a horror movie. Up ahead, I suddenly see a group of people coming towards me over the highway. It’s a pretty large group—about fifty people, for sure. Slowly, they are coming closer.

  I start running towards them, but something stops me as I try to figure out who they could be. They’re still too far away for me to get a clear view, but step by step, they’re gaining ground.

  Then I hear it. A soft buzzing. Where is it coming from? There are no other cars or buildings that could produce such a sound, so I return my gaze to the approaching group of people.

  Then, I realize the buzzing is coming from them. It’s voices. Human voices, and they are coming closer. The sound gets louder. They start growling and howling and wailing.

  They are now close enough for me to get a better view. Fear strikes when I realize they aren’t human. They are monsters with ashen faces. Some of them don’t even have skin on their faces, only muscle and blood everywhere. Others are limping, or missing an arm or a leg. They keep getting closer!

  Panic sends an electrical shock through me. What should I do? I have to get out of here, but there’s nowhere to run. I look around, but my brain is still in shock and my feet feel like they’re glued to the ground.

  Then I see them, amongst the zombies. Two faces that I know so well, even though they are almost unrecognizable now. My mother’s usually sparkling blue eyes are now gray and bloodshed. I recognize the dimple in my father’s chin, one of his most characteristic features. They are my parents, and yet they are not. The people who once were my parents are now zombies. Do they know who I am?

  Their distorted mouths produce a horrible howling and wailing, and they stretch out their arms in an attempt to grab me. They smell disgusting, a mixture of sweat and potatoes gone bad. All of a sudden, my dad gets hold of my hair and my mother clutches my sweater with her dirty, bloody hands. I want to run, but fail. I can’t move, I’m trapped. The only thing I can do is shake my head from left to right fiercely in an attempt to free myself from my father’s hands. “No!”

  From somewhere far away, a sweet, kind voice reaches me. “Wake up, dear. Wake up!” The nightmare bursts like a bubble, and I’m looking into my grandma’s beautiful, but worried, green eyes.

  “WAS THAT ANOTHER NIGHTMARE, dear?” She comes to sit on the edge of my bed and runs her hand through my tangled hair reassuringly.

  “It’s always the same dream, Grandma. Dad and Mom and zombies everywhere,” I say with tears in my eyes.

  “Shhhh, hush, my darling. I know, I know.” Her voice calms me.

  “When will it ever stop? Not a week goes by that I don’t have one.” Suddenly, my sorrow turns into anger. I am mad at myself. Mad at my parents. Mad at the world. With the back of my hand, I roughly wipe the tears from my face.

  “How long do you think it takes for a person to get over the biggest trauma of their life?” Her gaze turns serious and her words have a semi-critical undertone. She lifts a single eyebrow.

  Grandma sighs and continues, “Please don’t be so hard on yourself and give yourself some time, will you?” She walks up to the window and slides open the thick, dusty curtains to let in the sunlight. “Do you have any idea what a beautiful day it is today?”

  My gra
ndma is not a textbook grandmother. She’s a modern woman with white hair that she wears in a sassy short haircut. She still has a very nice body. I can only hope I inherited some of her genes, so that I’ll look that good when I’m her age. She’s great, but her personality is somewhat ... how shall I put this? Eccentric.

  Just like every morning, she’s wearing a spunky fluorescent pink Adidas jogging suit that is a tight fit around her body. Her shoes are Nike. Other women would look ridiculous in that outfit, but she rocks it.

  “Are you up for another power walk with the lady next door? And is it allowed to wear both Adidas and Nike at the same time?” I inquire, smiling.

  “Do I look like I care?” A smile crosses her smooth face too.

  Obviously, my grandma doesn’t care about fashion guidelines. She has been through a lot in her life and I’m sure she would have invented the saying “seize the day” if it didn’t already exist. She does exactly what she wants and doesn’t care what people might think of her. I think that rubbed off on me.

  “How old are you again?” I ask.

  “Fifty-five.” She tries to keep a straight face.

  “And how many years have you been fifty-five?” Every time I ask her how old she is, she says fifty-five. Nobody knows her exact age. Grandma always says you’re only as old as you feel—not your age.

  My grandma is a strong, confident woman. She worked all her life and raised my mother. She used to be a psychologist and a well-known counselor for Neuro Linguistic Programming. That explains why everything she says comes in the form of a question. Did you notice? I think it’s some kind of quirk from when she was a psychologist. As a human being and a psychologist, she wants you to reach your own conclusions. She never wants to put words in your mouth. Instead, she asks questions.

  She had just quit her work for a week when she asked me, “Do you realize that my brain has already started to shrink?” She claimed that’s what actually happens when you stop using your brain as often and as intensely as you did before. But like with everything, she figured out a solution for that one too.