by Lila Younger
“You’re perfection Tessa,” Spencer says in that magnificent low voice of his.
And then his mouth dips down to my breasts, my eyes roll to the back of my head in pure delight. He toys with me expertly, a hand moves across my stomach, cups my pussy before pinching my clit. I jump with pleasure, his fingers plunging inside of me as he circles my clit in tight rubs. It swells with arousal, making my pussy squirt with nectar as he fills me up with those thick digits of his.
“I’m ready for you,” I say.
“I know you are,” he says.
He slides on a condom, and then positions himself against me. I’m nervous and excited, this is the moment at last, and it’s perfect. He kisses me gently, and slides into me. I stifle a gasp of pain as he crosses my virgin barrier, fills me up at last. Every bit of me stretches to welcome him home, wraps around him tight as he buries himself into me. He kisses my neck, gentle, trying to distract me from the pain.
“I love you Spencer,” I sigh.
“I love you too Tessa,” he replies.
And then he starts moving, gently at first, and then faster as our bodies come together. I lift up my hips as he thrusts, driving the connection between us deeper and deeper. His cock, slippery from my wetness, drills into me faster and faster. I toss my head back, moving towards the source of pleasure. Everything is coming together, I can see the way Spencer’s gritting his teeth, his balls tightening, my whole body shaking, and we come, we come together, my pussy clamping down on him, his cock fucking me one last time. I surrender to Spencer not for the first time, and not for the last. My bones have turned into jello, and all I can do is tighten and release his cock as his pace gradually slows.
He kisses me, softly, gently. We’re both gasping for breath, but I love that he doesn’t pull out of me right away. Instead he rolls so that I can be on top of him, his cock twitching inside of me. He’s still half hard after finishing, ready to go another round.
And so am I. When our eyes meet, I can see the smile behind them, the real Spencer that so few are able to see. We were able to find each other at last. We mesh so well together, not just physically, but emotionally too. He may be older, I may be less experienced than him, but it doesn’t seem to matter as long as we’re together.
Somehow, we just work.
Epilogue: Spencer
“Morning,” Tessa calls, as I step out onto the yacht’s deck.
It’s a beautiful day, and the sun is glinting off her golden hair. She’s in a gorgeous blue and white dress, the hem trailing behind her as she gets up to greet me. I hold her in my arms and kiss her, which is the best way to start my morning as far as I’m concerned.
“Good morning Mrs. Belmont,” I say.
“I still can’t believe that’s me,” Tessa says with a giggle.
“What’s so hard to believe?”
“Well, that we met because you wanted to corrupt me,” she says, her finger tracing my jaw. “So you decided to buy me.”
“Best damn decision I ever made,” I say proudly.
“I agree,” she says, and kisses me again, harder, her fingers skimming the hemline of my shorts, skating over my abs, making me hard even though we’d had sex at least five times yesterday when we left our family and friends behind to sail off on our honeymoon cruise. It’s a trip through the Caribbean in my private boat, a trip that Tessa has wanted to make for as long as she could remember. We have an ambitious plan to island hop our way from Puerto Rico down to Trinadad.
It’s going to be a month long trip, longer than I’ve ever been away from office, but these days, I’m not so worried about leaving the business in the hands of others. That and satellite communications have improved so much that it isn’t a pain in the ass to check in each morning. But Tessa and I have made a promise not to work after lunch, and so far we’ve been sticking to it.
Although, it seems like no matter how early I get up, Tessa is just a little earlier. She works harder than I do, and that’s saying a lot. She tells me she likes to compose in the early morning, because that’s when her mind is the clearest. Despite the fact that we’ve been together for over a year, I still love finding these little moments of commonality between us.
“Have you called your mother?”
She nods, a smile on her face.
“The news is good then?”
“No cancer found,” she says. “The doctors are hopeful.”
I twirl her around before I set her lightly back down on the deck. The last lingering piece of bad news gone now from our lives.
Once Tessa and I made the decision to be together, our relationship intensified. I asked her to move in, and because her mother’s health was failing, I moved her in too. Lana, as Mrs. Olsen preferred to be called, was a fighter though, making it through not only the rounds of chemo, but lung cancer. It’s because of Lana that I’m trying to come up with ways to improve the quality of air within the casinos, to better separate out the smoking and non-smoking sections, as well as increase the healthcare for those who have worked for so long in my casinos and as a result have developed illnesses like Lana did. I know I have a lot longer to go, but it’s a start.
I’ve changed because of my lovely wife, I can see that now. Her heart is huge, her compassion has no limits. There’s so much she wants to do, not only creatively, but to influence the world, leave it better than when she came. The stories of ruthless deals and cutthroat mergers have a kernel of truth; for the longest time, it was money that mattered most to me. It bought me everything I wanted, and it was the way my world was shaped by. But nothing ever seemed enough. I’d buy and buy, but there was no enjoyment. When I first saw Tessa, I only saw her as yet another extension of my power. What I got back was so much more precious.
So much so that I almost lost it, for once I was too damn afraid to grab what I wanted. My old relationship haunted me and I wasn’t sure if Tessa would turn out to be the same, vindictive and poisonous underneath all that beauty. But she wasn’t. She was pure, yes, but she was also good. And being with her changed everything for me. For once I felt content. With Tessa, I didn’t need to chase for more. With her, life was finally enough.
*****
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Enjoy a bonus chapter of my book Daddy’s Boss!
I’m hit with the delicious smell of my mom’s spaghetti and meatballs as soon as I open my parent’s front door. They live in a small house, so the smell really gets into every nook and cranny I take a moment to inhale deeply, and the scent brings with it countless memories of growing up.
“I’m home,” I yell down the cluttered hallway.
There’s a pile of shoes in the hall closet, and I toss my flats on top of them. I shrug off my jacket but I don’t hang it up. That’s for guests. Instead, I toss it over the bannister, on top of my dad’s leather jacket. It drives my mom crazy, but that’s how it is at the house. Doing things differently would just be weird.
“It’s about time,” my older sister, Janine, calls from the living room. “We’ve been waiting forever.”
I walk through the doorway into the living room. Even though my mom loves redecorating, the most important pieces, like my dad’s old brown recliner and the hope chest, are still there, and I feel right at home immediately. My dad and my sister’s eyes are glued on the screen, where a football game is playing. They look totally alike, both with blond hair and blue eyes. My sister’s the conventionally beautiful one in the family because of that. She cheered in high school. Meanwhile, I was the nerdy, bookish one. The kind that tried not to stand out too much. If I wasn’t related to my sister, I probably would have been called pretty. As it was, nobody looked twic
e at me. All eyes were focused on Janine.
As soon as a commercial comes on, my dad gets up and comes over to give me a big bear hug.
“How’re you doing Jenna?” he asks affectionately. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited.”
“Not that long,” I reply. “Christmas was only two months ago.”
“Too long according to your mother,” he says. “Especially when we live in the same city.”
We technically did, but on opposite ends of it. My parents actually live yet another forty minutes in the suburbs, and there’s no easy way to get there. When I went to college, I told them there was no way I was commuting two and a half hours each way for school every day. I’d be renting an apartment. For the sake of my schooling, they agreed.
“I’ll try to come more often. But I do have midterms coming up.”
“Your sister manages to make it home,” my mom calls from the kitchen. “I’ve got food on the table by the way, so come on in and grab a plate.”
We all troop into the kitchen. My mom’s got a country sort of theme going on, with red gingham curtains and dishes all over the walls. I didn’t know that people still those up to decorate, but then again, my mom’s pretty old. While we both love interior design, we have very different ideas on the subject. I’m all about midcentury modern and sleek lines, while she skews more farmhouse chic. Even though we disagree though, we both love to shop, and it’s definitely one of the things that I miss most about not being at home. We’d spend hours on the weekend hitting up the flea market for finds that we could DIY into cool new stuff.
I pick up a red plate, and the three of us form a line, moving from the sink where the noodles have been dumped in a colander, to the pot of meatballs still bubbling away on the stove. There’s nothing quite like my mom’s homemade meatballs. She always does them twice the size of the store bought ones, and they have cheese in them. It’s terrible for my waistline, but they’re a treat that I’ll never pass up. To quiet that little voice in my head, I also pick up a heap of garden salad and skip the loaf of garlic bread on the counter.
My mom’s already sitting at the table, and I go to the spot I’ve always sat in right beside her. I’m pretty sure the wooden chair has worn a groove from my butt in it all these years. My mom’s already got a glass of milk at my spot. The easy way we fall into a rhythm has me all happy. No matter what happens with school, I know that my parents’ house will always be a familiar place for me.
We all settle in, compliment my mom’s cooking, and catch up on the news. Janine’s going to school to become a physiotherapist and finally got it her grades straightened out enough to graduate. My dad’s still tinkering with his old Mustang. My mom fills me in on everything happening with the neighbors (The Tucker’s have put up these terrible looking solar panels on their roof, and the McKenzie’s decided to move to Florida). Yup, everything is exactly the same. Just when I start to relax, the question comes.
“So Jenna, how’s the job search?”
I sigh inside. I knew it had to be too good to be true. One of the conditions of me moving out for school was that I would get a job to help with the costs. Totally reasonable on my parents part. I mean, my dad works as a shift supervisor at a manufacturing plant and my mom is an assistant manager at Bath and Body works. Not exactly the kinds of people who could afford to give out free rides to college.
Anyways, I got a job at Home Goods right away. No problem right? And it’s sort of fitting, because I’m pursuing a degree in Interior Design, and what better way to practice than by helping people find the stuff to make their homes beautiful? And I would have happily stayed at the job if not for my terrible manager. I lasted almost two years, more than any other part-time employee. But finally, after everyone else had quit, saddling me with back to back eight hour shifts, I told her that I had to quit. I couldn’t afford to have my GPA slip and lose my partial scholarship. It was the only way that I could even afford school.
My parents have been helping me out since, but my dad never fails to ask me if I’ve found anything when I call home once a week. But here’s something that I just found out: Quitting a job before you’ve found another one is a surefire way to make sure that you don’t get hired. And believe me, I’ve filled out almost a five hundred applications at this point. And still nothing.
“I’ve been looking,” I tell him as I swallow my meatball. “It’s just hard after the holidays. Most places aren’t hiring because they just keep their seasonal hires if they need them.”
I can tell my dad isn’t happy about the news. The thing I can’t tell is whether he’s upset about the fact that I can’t get a job, or he thinks that I’m making excuses.
“I am trying,” I stress, hoping he can see the sincerity in my voice. “Believe me. It’s not like I enjoy taking money from you guys. I know I made a promise.”
My mom puts a hand on my arm.
“We know honey, we’re not saying you’re not,” she says with a kind smile. And then her face brightens and she turns to my dad. “Hey Frank, didn’t you just say that the plant is hiring?”
“Now that’s an idea,” he says. “Jenna, why don’t you give me your resume tonight and I’ll hand it into HR?”
I blanch.
“What? In the factory?”
I’m not athletic, not in the slightest. That’s all on Janine. I mean, I can lift my groceries and bring them inside the house, but doesn’t dad work with really heavy machinery and things?
“You won’t be in the factory. We need an assistant in the office,” he says, looking pleased as punch. “Answering the phone, copying things, fiddling with computers. I’m sure you can handle it. You’re practically glued to your smartphone.”
Dad is the office manager of a very cool manufacturing plant actually. They specialize in recycling materials into new things. As someone who’s always wanted to come out with their own line of home goods, it probably could be an advantage to learn firsthand how the manufacturing process for it all works. And more and more people these days want options that are both eco-friendly and beautiful. I actually took a course all about that last year.
But did I really want to work with my dad? Especially when I’ll be in the same office as him? He’s the boss after all, and there’s nothing that spreads faster than office gossip.
Then again, did I really have a choice?
“I’ll send you the resume after dinner,” I say at last.
“Good,” my mom says. “I’m sure that with dad’s help, you’ll definitely get the job.”
Great, I think to myself. Who doesn’t want to work with their parents?
********
My first day began a week after. My interview, if you could even call it that, consisted of me showing up in an uncomfortable white shirt and black pencil skirt, shaking hands with the manager in HR, and filling out the paperwork. I guess as long as I didn’t look crazy, that was good enough for him. The fact that dad’s been at the plant forever and knows everyone probably didn’t hurt. I know that I should be grateful to get a job (especially since it meant I no longer had to live off KD mac and cheese), but I couldn’t help feeling sort of uncomfortable about it too. Everyone worked under my dad, and I couldn’t relax and befriend any of them. Who knew what would make it back to him?
“Can’t think about that now,” I mutter to myself as I get out of my car. “I’ll just stay here until I find another job.”
I walk through the large parking lot and into the building. My dad told me to dress nice, so I wore my black skirt again, along with a pink shell top and cardigan. I wrapped my hair up into a French twist, and slipped on a pair of black flats. I feel like I should have gone with heels, but I’m terrible at walking in them, and the last thing I need is to trip and fall on my first day of work. It looks professional enough, even though I feel really uncomfortable in it. I’m more of a jeans and flip-flops kind of person, but I know that one day when I do become an interior designer, those sorts of clothes aren’t going t
o cut it. I guess I might as well get used to it now.
The receptionist inside stands up as soon as she sees me. She’s got a pregnant belly, and she’s practically glowing with health. Behind her is a mural made of millions of colors. Up close I see that it’s the plastic pellets that get recycled into new products here at the plant. Pretty cool actually.
“Hi,” she says cheerfully. “You must be Jenna.”
“Yes. It’s my first day?”
“Cool. You know, you don’t look like Frank’s kid. I’m Lacy,” she says, holding out her hand. She’s got beautiful auburn hair and a perfectly polished look. “Come on through.”
We walk together through the door into a relatively large office. I’m surprised by how many people are here for just one manufacturing plant.
“Oh, this is headquarters for all five of Buchanan Manufacturing’s plants,” she explains. “Mr. Buchanan started out with just one, and then it just grew and grew from there,” she says with a big smile. “But this one is still his baby. He’s around here somewhere actually, so maybe you’ll get to meet him today.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Having the head boss here didn’t feel lucky at all. I feel very out of my depths here in a professional office. I mean, retail isn’t an easy job by any means, but to me, it didn’t feel quite as serious as working in an office. Not only that, if I did poorly, it would reflect badly on my dad, and that’s the last thing I want.
Lacy and I head towards the back of the office. She knocks on one of the doors and waves goodbye. I can see my dad on a call inside. I stand uncertainly until the woman in a desk nearby beckons me over. She looks very young and pretty, and she introduces herself as my dad’s secretary.
