by Ami Snow
“I saw Mr. Sharpe walking past to a meeting the other day,” Billie said conversationally. “He looked an awful lot like that guy you were with at the bar the first night.”
I glanced down at my hands, trying to quickly approximate how much of the truth I should tell, and how much I should keep quiet about. “It is the same guy,” I finally said, feeling as if I might choke on the words.
Catherine and Billie were silent for several long seconds. Finally, Catherine spoke up. “Did you know, when you met him?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I didn’t realize until he came into a meeting about a week in.”
Catherine frowned. “How could you accept the position? If anyone finds out…well, you know what they’ll say! And really, how can you say it isn’t true? Do you really think he would have hired you as his assistant if not for, well…”
“Maybe!” I fired back, and then I shrugged. “Maybe not. There’s not any way to know, really, is there? Besides, he was telling the truth about one thing, I’ve learned a lot more in the little bit of time that I’ve been his assistant than I was learning in the intern pool.”
Both girls frowned, and I wondered if I’d insulted them for a moment. Catherine quickly carried on: “Are you still sleeping with him?”
I knew better than to tell the truth about that. “No,” I lied. “He doesn’t want anyone thinking he sleeps with his interns, either. Once we realized our mistake, we’ve kept it totally professional. It’s a good business relationship, nothing more.”
Yeah, my mind mocked me. Very businesslike, with your skirt hiked up on his desk, your panties on the floor and his cock inside of you. Absolutely professional.
Billie giggled. “Well, I’d have a hard time staying professional with a boss that looked like that,” she said. “Kudos to you, Ellie. I’d have him bending me over the desk in no time.”
I nearly blushed at that. Catherine gave Billie a reproving look. “Just be careful, Ellie. It’s easy to let things get out of hand without realizing it. It’s probably good that it will be time to head back to school soon. And good that you have this date on Friday with Brian. You should focus on that.”
“Of course,” I said, staring at the taco on my plate. “I’m sure it will help a lot.”
I was, in fact, entirely certain that it wasn’t going to help at all.
Ethan
Anne was right on time. It was exactly eleven p.m. when my doorbell rang. One of the perks of hooking up with a girl who worked in the sex business, I guessed. She was wearing an emerald green dress that hugged her curves, perfect in contrast to her red hair, and six-inch black stiletto heels when I opened the door, and I thought I’d never gotten hard so fast in my life. Except with Elizabeth.
I handed her the drink I’d had ready for her, a gin and tonic with lime, and took a sip of my own scotch. “Come on in,” I said, visions of her stretched out on my bed dancing in my head already. She walked gracefully into the room, sitting down on the leather armchair and putting the glass to her lips. Her lipstick left a mark when she took the glass away, and I ached a little more, remembering what those lips felt like around my cock. “You’re lucky you aren’t into being dominated,” she said, laughing. “My client earlier paid ten thousand for two hours with me. And here I am, giving it away for free.”
I laughed, and I saw her small, indrawn breath at the sound of it, deep in my throat. “You like giving up control, that’s why you come here,” I said. “You like that I decide what drink you’ll have, before you even walk in the door.”
I could see the small muscles of her thighs tense under her dress, and I knew she was getting wet, even from my seat directly across the room from her. She took another sip of her drink, and I swirled my scotch, the few cubes of ice clinking against each other in the glass.
“You like knowing that I’ll be telling you what to do, very soon. You’re wondering what I’m going to ask from you tonight. You like that for the rest of the night, you won’t have to make any choices, come up with any plans for how the night should go. You don’t have to anticipate anything, not even your own desires. I’ll do all of that for you.”
Her lips parted slightly, her breath misting against the glass when she took another sip. I could feel my cock pressing against my jeans, granite-hard, and I watched her tongue flick out against her lips, and I barely withheld a groan of desire.
“Set down the drink.” I instructed. Anne did so immediately, setting it aside on the table, sitting up straight, her legs uncrossed. I could see that she’d parted them slightly, for my benefit, her dress riding up her thighs. There was a glimpse of black lace between her legs.
“Stand up and walk to me.”
I’ve never understood how a woman can walk on a carpet in such high heels, but Anne made it look easy. She glided to me, stopping an inch away, awaiting my next instruction.
“On your knees.”
She sank down, her wide green eyes watching me.
“Take out my cock.”
I could see how hungry she was for it already. She moved slowly, the way she knew I liked. Her fingers ran up my jean-clad thighs, pressing into the flesh on either side of my groin. I bit back a moan. She needed to work for my approval, for the audible confirmation of my pleasure. She reached for my belt, undoing the buckle, and slowly drew the zipper down. I heard her gasp when my cock pushed out, and she realized I’d been wearing nothing under the jeans. Her hand lifted to grasp me, and I slapped it away.
“Put your hands behind your back. Use only your mouth.”
I breathed in when her warm, wet lips touched the tip of my cock, her tongue flicking out to run along the ridge beneath. She tightened her lips around the tip, sucking only it for a moment, and then she slid down, fraction by fraction, her tongue caressing me as her mouth enveloped me.
“Lower,” I instructed, and she knew what I meant. She took all of my shaft in her mouth, and then she slid back up, pausing to suck on the tip again before letting go of my cock altogether. She used her lips and tongue to draw my balls out, sucking one into her mouth and then the other, licking along the seam before finally taking both in her mouth at once, gently rolling them about with her tongue. I was gasping with pleasure by now, my stiff, damp cock brushing against the side of her face. She let go then, her mouth coming up to grasp me with her lips again, starting her slow descent down my shaft until I couldn’t repress the groan that escaped my lips.
She looked up with a satisfied expression on her face, and I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up. “Oh, I’ll make you pay for that,” I growled, and she smiled in response. “Oh, I hope so,” she purred.
“Stand up and undress,” I said, snapping my fingers. She let go of my cock and stood. I grasped it gently in my fingertips, stroking the length of it slowly, just enough to keep a slow burn of pleasure rolling over my nerves as I watched her.
First she reached for the zipper of her dress, turning to face away from me so that I could see the slow decent it made as she tugged downwards, splitting to reveal her creamy white skin and the black lace lingerie beneath it. The zipper stopped just above the curve of her ass, teasing me as she let go, slowly pushing one sleeve off of her shoulder, then the other. She peeled the top away, still facing in the other direction, and only when the garment reached her hips and was just about to reveal her round, firm ass did she turn around, presenting me with her ample cleavage bound in a tight black lace corset, swelling above the constraints. I felt my cock stiffen further, if that were possible, and I gripped it tightly, permitting myself a few hard strokes before taking my hand away again. Anne pushed the garment off her hips, revealing black lace panties and stockings held up by a garter belt. She turned slowly, letting me finally see the curves of her ass, and I ached to grab a handful of it. I would, very soon.
I stood then, maneuvering my hard cock back into my jeans and zipping them. I felt it pulse with outrage, straining the fabric. I held out my hand. “Come to the bedroom with me,” I inst
ructed.
She took my hand, following me, although she knew full well where it was. “Lay face down on the bed,” I told her, and she did so.
I began to undress, and I knew she wanted to look, wanted the pleasure of seeing me strip off my clothes for her as she had for me. But not tonight. I was frustrated and angry at my lack of control over the situation with Elizabeth, and Anne was one of the few women I knew who would take pleasure in letting me vent that frustration, in letting me exercise control over her. She wanted to look, but she didn’t.
I stripped off my jeans, pulled my t-shirt over my head, tossing them to the floor. When I was fully nude, my cock aching and sticking out in front of me, I walked to the bed, standing next to her prone form. I reached out, my hand caressing her lace-covered ass, fingers gripping the swell of it. Anne moaned and arched her hips.
“Lay still!” I snapped, and smacked her firmly on one ass cheek, her flesh reddening under the sting of it.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered meekly. I smiled. “Good girl,” I murmured. “But I’m still going to spank you. Do you know why?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“Yes, you do. You shouldn’t lie.” I smacked the other cheek, then each one, three times in succession. Anne whimpered, but remained still.
“Why am I spanking you, Anne?”
“Because it brings you pleasure.”
“Very good.” I smacked each cheek twice more. I drew her panties down then, over the lace stockings and garter, exposing the reddened, sensitive flesh to the air. I rubbed my hand across her ass again, then delivered four more quick smacks. I could tell how hard it was for her to remain still, could see the dampness gathering between her legs. Small noises were coming from her lips, and I took a step back.
“You may turn over.”
I could see from her face that her sensitive ass stung when she turned, and that she enjoyed it. I walked to the foot of the bed, grasping my cock in my hand. “Spread your legs, and then reach between them and spread yourself so I can see.”
Slowly, she let her knees fall apart, spreading her legs so that I could see the juncture of her thighs, and how wet she was there. She reached between them, her fingers spreading her lips, slipping slightly in the moisture, and I breathed in, my hand tightening on my cock.
“Start to touch yourself. Slowly.”
She did, her index finger slowly sliding over her damp clit, making small circles as her breathing quickened.
“Don’t come until I say so,” I instructed, making slow strokes over my shaft. I didn’t want to come prematurely, either.
“May I put my fingers inside myself, sir?” she asked, her finger speeding up on her clit. She looked positively drenched.
“Not yet,” I breathed. I could feel my balls tightening. “Come closer to the edge of the bed, Anne.”
I’d never in my life seen a woman gracefully scoot, but Anne did so. Without missing a beat, her fingers still working her clit, she moved to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her face a mask of pleasure. “I need to come, sir,” she begged. “Please let me fuck myself, sir.”
“Not yet,” I growled, my hand firm on my cock now, stroking faster. I felt myself on the edge.
“Now,” I said, slowing my strokes. “Show me how you fuck yourself, Anne.”
She plunged two fingers of her other hand inside of herself, thrusting them in and out, her fingers flying over her clit. “Oh god, sir, I can’t hold on much longer!”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to, either.
“You may come,” I said, gasping, holding onto my own orgasm for dear life. I watched as she breathed in, her whole body tensing, and then her legs splayed apart, her back arching as she fell back onto the bed, convulsing in orgasm. She gave herself over to it totally, moaning aloud, her fingers pounding into her as she came.
The moment I saw it start to recede, I snapped: “Sit up, Anne!”
She did so, her fingers still moving gently over her clit as she sat, her legs still spread for my pleasure. I stroked my cock hard, gripping the tip with each stroke, and then I took a step forward, between her legs, and I began to come, my cock spurting over her breasts, coating her skin. She moaned softly as she felt the warm liquid hit her, and I rubbed the tip of my cock over her breasts.
I let go then, looking at her. I couldn’t believe it, but I wanted more. Twice already, today, once with Elizabeth and once now, and all I could think about was coming again. Specifically, I was thinking about coming with Elizabeth. She was who I wanted in bed right now, who I had wished was seductively stripping in front of me a few minutes before. I wanted her, to possess her, to order her, to have her desire to give herself over to my…our…pleasure as fully as Anne was. It infuriated me, that I should desire her so much.
“Get on your knees and get me ready again,” I demanded, and I saw a sleek, satisfied smile pass over Anne’s face, like a cat who has gotten a bird. We normally only fucked once in a night, and I knew she was enjoying my rush of lust. I wondered if she would enjoy it as much if she knew it was caused by another woman.
I had a feeling Anne wouldn’t care. She would probably ask me to bring the other woman over.
She got on her knees, sucking my cock into her mouth, licking away the remains of my orgasm. I could see it still on her breasts, on her skin, and the thought that she didn’t care made my cock surge to life again, aching almost painfully as the blood rushed into it. She was trading enthusiasm for technique this time, her hand cupping my balls as she deep-throated my cock, shoving it deeply into her throat before coming up for air, her tongue licking away every trace of our encounter moments before. She locked her lips around the shaft then, sucking me into her mouth, bobbing up and down until I was rock hard, my fingers gripping her hair.
“Get on the bed,” I snapped. “On your back.”
I reached into the nightstand as she did so, pulling out two lengths of silk rope. She raised her wrists without instruction, and I grabbed them, lashing each to the headboard. Her legs were spread, her lips glistening with moisture, and I knew she wanted me again. I climbed onto the bed, pausing for a moment between her legs, rubbing the tip of my cock against her lips. She breathed in as I touched her, moaned as I slid it over her clit, circling it, holding back my own groans at the sensation of her wet heat against me.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I pushed into her, sliding in with one long thrust that ended with her hips arching up and moans spilling from her mouth as I began to thrust. I watched her face as I slid in and out of her, enjoying the way her lips parted and she breathed in with small gasps every time I thrust in. She was tight and hot and I already felt a third orgasm approaching, the muscles of my abdomen tightening as I plunged in and out of her. I grabbed her legs, putting her ankles on my shoulders, and I saw her strain against the ropes that held her to the bedframe, her fingers curling as she gasped out: “Please, sir, may I come?”
I didn’t have the presence of mind to draw it out. Holding onto her legs, fucking her furiously, I ground out: “Yes,” in a deep growl that sent her over the edge. Her back arched, her muscles spasming around me as she came, nearly screeching with the pleasure of it as I pounded into her. Barely a few moments later, her body still trembling with the aftershocks, I felt my muscles seize and my cock throb, and I poured myself into her, hips bucking as I followed her lead.
I fell to the side, letting go of her legs, collapsing on the mattress. I was totally spent, my frustration eased, and all I wanted in that moment was to close my eyes and fall asleep in exactly that spot. Anne cleared her throat, tugging at her bonds pointedly, and I raised myself up off of the mattress long enough to untie her wrists before falling back, my head landing on my pillow. Anne laughed. “Glad to see I got it all out of you,” she teased, leaning over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Call me anytime, love. Your driver will be downstairs?”
I nodded, reaching for my phone to text him. It occurred to me that I could ask her to s
tay, but I knew she wouldn’t, anyway. She had a place nearly as well-appointed as mine, and she’d said many times she preferred to sleep in her own bed. Alone.
I watched her go, her naked, still pink ass swaying from side to side as she collected her clothes. I heard the door shut behind her, and I closed my eyes, expecting sleep to claim me immediately. Instead, the languor that had followed my explosive orgasm had abruptly vanished, and I lay wide-eyed, wondering what Elizabeth was doing at the moment, and hoping, hypocritically so, that she was alone in bed.
Damn it.
Chapter 3
Ellie
I don’t know how I got through the rest of the week. Ethan didn’t say one word to me about our passionate encounter on his desk. In fact, he could barely look at me the next day, which made me think that he regretted what we’d done. I knew that should make me feel grateful—that what was surely a mistake was blowing over without any effort. But instead, it made me feel bereft and hurt, much as I’d felt when he’d turned away from me afterwards. I couldn’t decipher what was going on in his head, and I knew that asking wouldn’t do me any good. In fact, I wasn’t altogether sure that I wanted to know.
Somehow, I floundered through the week, more distracted than focused. By Friday afternoon, he’d made no mention of meeting for a mentoring session, and I supposed he probably thought that my place as his assistant was mentorship enough. I was glad, myself, not to have to worry about facing him on the weekend. Two days free…well, mostly free, of Ethan was like a vacation at this point. I would still think of him—how could I not? But at least he wouldn’t be on the other side of the door, oozing sex in his tailored suit and Chanel cologne, tempting me every moment to walk into the office and start unbuttoning my blouse.
Not that I ever would, of course. I do have my pride.
I left Friday afternoon and made a beeline for the house. Catherine had promised to be there to help me get ready for my date, and Brian was picking me up at seven. I was grateful for the distraction. I hadn’t seen him in nearly a week, and although it was hard to drag my thoughts away from Ethan when I was near him, I found myself thinking more and more of the night I’d spent with Brian, once I was away from the office. It had been good…better than good. And there had been a sense of normalcy in it, a certain happy domesticity to waking up next to him and getting ready for work that I craved. The problem was that I didn’t know which I craved more—the peaceful simplicity of being with Brian, or the passionate craving that Ethan engendered in me.
