by Katy Kaylee
“Huh,” I said, surprised by what I saw there.
“What?” she asked, leaning over the table. “Holy crap. It’s eight pm? When did that happen?”
I laughed lightly. “Well, you know what they say about time flying when you’re having a good time.”
“Right? It’s too bad,” she sat back, looking at me with that mischievous expression that I only got to see once or twice. “I wish it didn’t have to end right now.”
“Who says it does?
“It’s almost closing time, isn’t it? I know you’re rich and all, but I don’t believe you’re the type to throw around enough money just to make a restaurant stay open later for you on a first date.”
“I’ve thrown money around at worse.”
“Why don’t I doubt that?”
I sent her one of my rueful smiles. This woman was going to be my undoing. I could feel the fascination I had for her, the unrepentant desire burn that much hotter. “You mentioned you liked movies but rarely had time to see them. I just happen to have a home theater at my place. If you wanted, we could always watch something there.”
“Oh, could we?” she asked, sounding so surprised that I had to remind myself that she was a virgin and likely no one had ever tried to convince her to go home with them.
Or they had, and she had been blissfully unaware. I could see many a poor college hopefuls pining for her only for her to be too absorbed in her studies to even give them a single thought.
And yet there she was, giving me several thoughts before answering slowly. “Uh, yeah. That would be nice. I think.”
“You think it might be nice, or your think you might want to come?”
Her cheeks flushed again at my choice of words, just as I had intended. “I know I would like to visit your pad. I hope that it might be nice.”
“Only one way to find out,” I said, standing and pulling a couple of hundreds from my wallet. Least I could do for taking up our waitress’ table for hours.
If Bev thought anything of my cash drop, she didn’t say anything. She just happily looped her arm through mine and we walked back out to the front for their valet to get my car.
Of course, their valet was nowhere near as charming as Izzy, but I didn’t expect him to be, and soon we were heading towards my house.
I could feel Bev tensing beside me as we whipped through the city and I placed my hand on her knee.
“Hey,” I said, hoping she could tell how much I meant it. “Just because we’re going back to my place doesn’t mean anything has to happen other than watching a moving on my set up. And, you know, maybe drooling over my set up a bit. I did work pretty hard on it.”
“You worked hard at it?” She asked, lips curling. “Or you paid an entire team of contractors to do it for you?”
“A little of column A, a little of column B.”
“Uh-huh.”
That seamed to ease her and by the time we arrived at my house, she seemed much more relaxed. I parked in my large garage, and I heard a low whistle from Bev as I opened her door.
“All of these cars are yours?”
“I certainly hope so,” I retorted. “Otherwise I’ve been targeted by whatever the opposite of a car thief is.”
“Uh, I don’t know what that would be,” she said, looking this way and that as she exited. “Some sort of car-obsessed sugar daddy?”
I actually snorted at that. “I think I might be the last person to have need of a sugar daddy.”
“What, you’re telling me there’s not some mega-handsome gajillionaire who could, I dunno, buy you a bunch of jets or something.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it makes me feel like I’ve been on the wrong career path.”
She laughed at that, shaking her head as I lead her into the side door that lead to my kitchen. I had intended to show her to the den just outside of my mini-theater, but she stopped dead still right in the doorway.
“You alright?” I asked, looking back at her with concern.
Her eyes flicked from me to the room all around me then back. “You have no idea how damn impressive this all is, do you?”
I looked around, trying to follow her gaze. “It’s a good kitchen. It was one of the things that convinced me to buy this place.”
“A good kitchen?” she questioned. “This is like, every girl’s fantasy kitchen. My apartment could almost fit in this kitchen. All the appliances are new and shiny, but all the wood is that aged classic stuff that only rich people can afford.”
“Huh, you describe it a lot better than the woman who sold it to me. Ever thought about a job in realty?”
“No, but I’m beginning to double think that decision if it means I get to hang out in houses like this.”
I looked around with renewed eyes, trying to see it how she saw it. Sure, I liked my house, and I was fairly proud of how it looked and felt, but she was staring at it like it was an outright castle.
And maybe, to her, it was.
“Would you like a tour?” I asked.
“A tour?” she repeated, her eyes slipping past me again to try to peak into the other rooms. “What about your theater?”
“My personal theater will be there when we’re done. Can you blame me for wanting to see that expression on your face for a little bit longer?”
She looked to me again, her eyes full of mischief. “Oh, so you’re into showing off then? Should have known. All rich people like to show off.”
“I’m into impressing you, actually,” I answered, taking a step closer to her so that she had to tilt her head up to look at me.
“Oh… uh. Okay then, I’d like a tour.”
“Alright then.” I took her hand gently and pulled her the opposite way I had originally planned. The den wasn’t that impressive, so I thought the living room would be better.
When we entered the room, I flicked on the light, the modern-chic chandelier that my interior designer had picked out gently illuminating. I heard the slight gasp in Bev’s breath and my chest swelled with pride.
“Oh wow, this is pretty.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Pffft, as if my approval meant anything.”
That wouldn’t do. I gave her hand a pull and it succeeded in knocking her off balance just enough for her to topple against me. I caught her with my free arm, letting go of her hand to stroke her face.
“Your approval means a whole lot.”
“Why?” she asked, titling her head up to me and getting that same breathless expression again. The one that made me want to kiss her dizzy. “I’m just an assistant doing exactly what I’m not supposed to do.”
“I don’t think there’s any world in which you’re just an assistant,” I replied, my thumb stroking her full, bottom lip again. “You are no doubt many things, but never just an assistant.”
“How can you say that? You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” I replied before I couldn’t resist any longer and I was pressing my lips to hers once again.
She gasped, opening her mouth to me almost instantly. Her response fueled me, and I let my arms wrap around her as she melted into me. She was so warm, so soft in my arms and I just wanted to press into her until she was practically bonded to me. Everything about her was opulence and abundance in femininity, calling to me in a sort of primal way that I didn’t want to resist at all.
I felt impatience rise in me, the desire to feel and consume all of her taking over my thoughts. If the circumstances were different, I might have bent her over the couch and showed her just how much she influenced me, but I couldn’t do that.
Everything I was doing to her was new, and that made me want to make it special. No matter what happened, I was going to be a part of her history, and that meant something to me.
I didn’t know what was bringing on such sentimentality in me. Maybe it was because I had lost my virginity when I was seventeen with my girlfriend at the time and it was about as awkward as one might think. Maybe it w
as just a sense of responsibility since I was experienced and Bev was not. Either way, my hands moved down her body until they were below her glorious ass, then I hoisted her up off her feet.
She let out that same squeal she had made in my office, the one that made me feel like a warrior taking his conquest to his tent, and she wrapped her legs around my waist to support herself.
“Good girl,” I growled into her neck, still holding her bottom as I marched towards my bedroom door.
It was still cracked from that morning and I kicked it open, walking until I could deposit Bev on the bed. Although I set her down, I didn’t let go of her, and instead leaned over her once again with my lips pressed to hers.
Her hands gripped my shoulders, fingers tensing and untensing against my suit jacket. I could tell she was nervous, and I did my best to assuage her fears by nipping and licking down her neck and then to her shoulders.
The straps of her dress were in my way, but I pushed them off her to allow me to kiss more of her. I waited until I was at a patch of skin that wouldn’t show in her professional clothes before giving her a love bite that was just a taste of what I could do to her.
She hissed, and my whole body throbbed at the sound.
“Do you know what you do to me, sweetheart?” I growled right back, kissing across the other way before worrying another patch of skin between my teeth.
Her fingers moved from my shoulders to the buttons at my shirt, but I gripped her wrists and set them gently down at her sides.
“Let me take care of you, baby girl,” I murmured, voice low as I looked at her like the goddess she was.
“But shouldn’t I-”
“All you’ve got to do is let me show you all you’ve been missing,” I interrupted. As many times as I’d thought about her lips around my cock, or any other thing, I knew without a doubt that I wanted to make this night about her. “And if you ever need me to stop, you just say so, alright?”
She nodded, her eyes wide, her pupils blown out and her mouth open in a faint panting. She looked like lust incarnate, and I was ready to revel in her sin.
I reached behind her, sliding the top zipper of her dress all the way down until the fabric was sitting in a pool at her waist. She was trembling ever so slightly, but she didn’t seem even remotely inclined to tell me to stop.
But still, it wouldn’t hurt to double check. I would throw myself off a mountain before I did a single thing that she wasn’t comfortable with. It was strange, but I only wanted goodness and comfort for the woman. I didn’t know much about her, but I knew that she had been handed far too much sour and deserved a whole lot of sweet.
While I hadn’t been lying when I told her that I preferred only enthusiastically willing partners, I had never cared about any of my conquests like I cared about the woman staring at me. But I tried to not let myself think too much about that, because if I did, it might lead to questions that would ruin the moment.
I pushed her back gently, just enough for her to lift off her hips a little and allow me to pull her dress down her legs and onto the floor. Then, once she was in just her underwear, I pulled her up and took a step back.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up and trying to cover herself with her arms.
But I just shook my head and gently put her hands back down at her side once more. “Just admiring.”
“You’re making me blush,” she said, and sure enough her cheeks were quickly flaring pink once again.
I drank her up, taking in her long, flowing hair, her broad, proud shoulders, her full breasts that were nearly overflowing the cups of her bra. Her soft middle and the little fold in the center of it, just above her belly button. The pudge that settled onto her wide lap, thick thighs enticing me to touch her once more.
“Can you blame a man for wanting to stare at a goddess.”
“I’m not goddess,” she whispered, shivering as my hands reached around her to undo the clasp of her bra. Then, I hooked my fingers in the front center of it and pulled it from her form.
I could see the red lines it left in her flesh, and I pressed my lip to the closest line. She let out another impossibly arousing little gasp, and I followed it all the way up to her shoulder, kneeling on the edge of the mattress so I could post myself over her.
I kissed her all over her shoulders, collarbone and right down to the top of the swells of her breasts before finally pulling back again. Her perfect, bountiful chest was rising and falling with heated breaths and I wanted nothing more than to completely ravage her.
Instead, my hands finally went to my own clothes, slowly baring myself to her. But I paid little mind to my own body, my whole brain caught up with how she looked spread out on my bed. Pale skin practically glowed against my grey sheets and her hair spread across the comforter like some sort of renaissance painting. She was a temple, a sanctuary, and I was more than ready to worship.
Beverly
Being made fun of for my weight my entire life had allowed me to build up quite the thick skin. I knew that I had a pretty face and that a section of the population liked my curves, so that allowed me to ignore most of the rancor that wanted me to hate myself. That confidence that I wasn’t a complete piece of shit just for being plus sized was part of what made my second foster mother not work out. She was borderline obsessed with my weight and tried diet after diet, which I never followed.
But splayed out on Mr. Fitzgerald’s insanely comfortable mattress made me that much more acutely aware of my body and how much bigger it was than average.
He was looking at me like he wanted to devour me, and I couldn’t help but shiver again. I had never been naked in this kind of context in front of another person and it was something else entirely. I felt my stomach clenching up like it had during my road test, and during my finals, and even during a lot of my interviews.
Yet even with all that fear, I didn’t want to stop. I was so intensely turned on and keyed up that I felt I might explode if I didn’t find out exactly what all of my friends had gone on and on about in college.
Thankfully I was distracted by some of my nerves by the strip show at the end of the bed. I wanted nothing more than to sit up and peel his clothes from him myself, but Mr. Fitzgerald seemed content with me being some sort of pillow princess.
I watched as bit of bit of his tan, muscled skin was revealed to me. His shoulders were rippling with muscle as he removed his button up, and then his undershirt. When his hands went to his pants, I thought I might just combust there on the spot, but I managed to keep it together as more and more of him was revealed to me.
God, he was ripped. Shredded to absolutely high heaven and I was once again struck with why someone like him would want to sleep with someone like me. But then his fingers were at the waistband of his boxer briefs and he was pulling them down his thick, muscled legs.
Oh.
Oh shit.
His manhood was standing quite erect, it’s swollen, red head already glistening with moisture. It looked like the thing was straining against itself and I couldn’t believe that just seeing me laid across his bed had made him like that.
He knelt on the bed again with one knee, his length bobbing like a threat or a promise I couldn’t tell, but then his other knee was on the bed and he was settling over me.
I didn’t know what I expected, maybe for him to just shove it in and call it a day, but instead he just kissed me warmly, adoringly. The press of his lips to mine were so sweet that it was easy to forget that I was just his employee, and this was definitely a one-night stand.
As his mouth kissed me senseless, his hands were on the move. They ghosted over my sides, barely touching but just enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. He kept going until he reached my hips, where he massaged my love handles gently.
“God, you’re so soft,” he breathed into my mouth like a prayer.
And maybe it kind of was, because the way he was treating me certainly made me feel holy.
He shifted slightly and
for a moment I didn’t know what he was doing, but then one of his hands slowly slid up my soft stomach, over my protected ribs, until it was gently encompassing one of my breasts.
My breath hitched again, and I instinctively pushed up into his palm, feeling shocks of pleasure shoot down my spine. Holy hell, it never felt that great when I touched my own boobs, why did his caress make me feel like I was having a heart attack?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t get an answer before two of his fingers took my nipple between them and gently squeezed.
“Fuck!”
I hadn’t meant to swear, but how could I not? The lightning bolt of pure pleasure that shot through me was like a freaking bomb and it was becoming even harder to breathe.
“You like that?” Mr. Fitzgerald murmured against the side of my face as he kissed a path to my ear.
I nodded and tried to answer, but the most I managed was a heady little whine. He seemed to approve of that sound, however, and pushed himself up just slightly enough so he could look at my face.
I had to be an absolute mess at that point, with my lips kiss swollen and sweat starting to bead on my forehead. My hair was everywhere, and I wasn’t entirely sure that my cheeks weren’t literally on fire. But he looked at me like I was something perfect, and it was a bit intimidating, if I was honest.
His fingers pulled at my nipple yet again, teasing and worrying at it until I was writhing against him. Just when I thought that I was being stretched tauter than a bow and couldn’t get any more tightly strung, his hand left my breast to slide between my legs.
“Oh, oh my God,” I whimpered beneath him as his fingers slid easily through me. I could feel how wet I was, and it was vaguely embarrassing. Did it make me seem easy? Or desperate? I didn’t have enough experience to know, but judging by the groan that Mr. Fitzgerald let out, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
“You’re a fucking dream, Bev,” he whispered hotly into the side of my neck before his teeth caught me again. The dull bit of pain just intensified the impossible pleasure going through me, and I didn’t even think to worry about getting a mark that someone might see.
