by Harper West
“Okay,” I say.
Mason smirks at me. “That’ll be all, Jilly,” he says. “We have business to discuss.”
Chapter 10
Mason
Jilly leaves, a cloud of her delicious flowery musk in her wake.
Jay sits down on the couch and stretches. “Goddamn,” he says. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow. “She’s fucking amazing. You were right. Best piece of ass I’ve ever had.”
I nod slowly. Somehow, describing Jilly as just a piece of ass doesn’t seem right ... but what the fuck else am I supposed to say? I’m not the kind of guy who ‘does’ relationships or takes women out on dates.
And yet, I find myself wanting to know Jilly better. I don’t just want to fuck her, I want to talk to her. I want to figure out her sassy sweet shyness. I want to hear about her past, hear what she likes most about me.
Fuck, that’s egotistical.
But I don’t care.
I feel strange, almost like I’m coming down with something. I’ve never had my cock sucked like that before. She was inexperienced, sure, but her enthusiasm more than made up for the lack of expertise. She sucked my cock like her life depended on it, like she’d never tasted anything so delicious before.
And god, having her pussy in my mouth was nothing short of a transcendent experience. She wriggled and squirmed, not even caring that she was suffocating me with her cunt, moaning and writhing and bucking her hips against my mouth.
I don’t think my jaw has ever been this sore, and I don’t give a fuck.
“So, what the fuck was that, exactly?” Jay asks, breaking the silence. “I thought for sure you were gonna fucking kill me when you walked in.”
How can I explain what I felt in that moment? Walking in on my sweet Jilly, on her knees, with my partner’s cock in her mouth?
I’m not gay – fuck, I’m not even bi. I’ve never had an interest in men sexually.
And yet, it felt like Jay and I were co-existing, sharing.
For once, we weren’t competing.
“I don’t know,” I admit. Those three words are maybe the most painful to say in the English language for me. I’ve always had to be in control, had to know what’s going on, had to be the one making the decisions.
Somehow, it feels like sweet, shy Jilly is the one in charge here. She’s the one woman in the world who could have persuaded me to drop my trousers and get my cock sucked in front of my best friend.
Jay raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m sorry – did you just say what I think you said?”
I sigh and look up at the ceiling. “Look, she’s under my skin. That much is obvious.”
“She’s fucking hot, is what she is,” Jay replies. “God, I can’t wait to fuck her again.”
Somehow, the idea of Jay and Jilly together doesn’t seem nearly as repulsive now that I’ve actually seen them fuck. She loved riding his cock ... and I loved watching her ride it. I loved watching her eyes roll back in her head with pleasure, loved hearing her screams.
Strangely, it’s like I don’t even care that both Jay and I have had her, and that we both want her again. Her luscious, voluptuous curves would be enough to send any red-blooded man into a frenzy.
“She enjoyed it more when she was with both of us,” I say slowly. “It’s like, she’s been waiting for that to happen. Which is absurd. She hadn’t even met you until this morning.”
Jay doesn’t reply. A strange look falls over his features.
“I’ll let you go,” I say, feeling awkward in front of my partner for the first time in what has to be decades. “I’m sure you have a lot of shit to do.”
Jay shrugs, and I get the sense that he wants to be alone. I leave his office, walk down the corridor to my own, and push past Allison without even greeting her.
Once I’m in my own office, with the door locked, I can swear that I can still smell Jilly’s musk. I don’t even want to wash it off – I want to savor it, bathe in it, let her overwhelm me like my cock overwhelmed her.
Jesus, pull yourself together, I think, slowly spinning my chair to face the window and looking down at the city below.
I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’ve never had it this bad for a woman before, not ever. Not even when I met my ex-wife.
Jilly is a fucking force of nature, and I want everything about her.
Picking up my phone, I dial Human Resources.
“Human Resources, this is Eva.”
“Hello, Eva,” I say, as smoothly as I can. “This is Mason Rhodes. I was hoping you could give me the phone number of the new admin, Jilly Harmon.”
Eva clears her throat. “Ms. Harmon didn’t come in today,” she said.
“I know,” I say. “I mean, Mr. Harper saw her, and said she was very sick. He sent her home – you know, it’s her first job, she probably isn’t aware that coming to work while contagious isn’t proper.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Eva says sympathetically. “I remember those days of being green.”
I clear my throat. “Her number?”
“Of course,” Eva says quickly. She passes it to me and I scribble it down on the memo pad on my desk. As soon as I hang up with her, I dial Jilly.
She answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” Jilly asks, still sounding as breathless as she did after her orgasms.
“It’s Mason,” I inform her.
“Oh,” Jilly gasps.
“I’m taking you out,” I tell her. “On a date.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll have someone come by your apartment with arrangements for this Saturday night.”
“Okay,” Jilly says. I can hear her licking her lips, and the thought of that little pink tongue is enough to make my balls throb with lust.
“And Jilly?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t wait to see you.”
It’s dumb.
It’s possibly the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done – admit that I actually might be able to care about Jilly.
I don’t believe in soulmates.
I don’t believe in fate or destiny or even love anymore—and yet . . . here I am, acting like some pussy-whipped Romeo. I should hang up and ignore her. Go find another piece of ass that’ll smack me back to reality—but I can’t.
Jilly giggle breathily, and suddenly, it’s all worth it.
Chapter 11
Jilly
“Jilly, babe, this came for you today,” Penny says, breathing hard as she lugs a giant box into the apartment. She grins at me. “And get this – it didn’t even come in the mail. It was delivered by a private courier. He called me ‘miss’, and everything.”
It’s the morning of my date with Mason, and I’m at my wit’s end. I’ve gone through my whole closet, three times, and I still haven’t found anything that would be decent enough to wear on a date with a man like him. My bank account is dwindling, too – I haven’t gotten my first paycheck from SMX yet, as I’ve been there for only a week, and I’m this close to calling Mason to cancel because I don’t want to show up looking like a fat little kid in some outfit leftover from college. The last week has been crazy – I’m finally working, like I’m supposed to, but I haven’t seen one glimpse of Mason or Jay.
It’s almost enough to make me think that I imagined our hot morning together.
Why is being a woman so hard? Men have it easy, I muse as I look down at the box. They just have two wardrobes – work and relaxing. Women have to have like, fifty different kinds of clothing in our closets ... and we still can’t ever find anything to wear.
“Jilly? Hello,” Penny says. She sighs with envy. “If I got something like this, I’d be ripping it open with my teeth.”
I blink at the box slowly. It looks like something from the fifties or sixties – a large, shiny black box embossed with Saks 5th Avenue on the front.
“I didn’t order anything,” I tell her, shaking my head. “And even if I did buy something, there’s no way I could af
ford Saks.”
Penny sets the box down on the couch and turns to me, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at me.
“I bet someone sent you a present,” she said. “Open it.”
I bite my lip. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but over the last few days, I haven’t wanted to confide in Penny the way I used to. I have a feeling that Mason – or Jay – is behind this, but part of me wants to scoop the box up in my arms, scurry away to my room, and open it in private.
I want to keep them all to myself, even if it means keeping secrets from my best friend.
Don’t be stupid, I tell myself. It’s a box, for God’s sake. What do you think is inside? Kinky lingerie?
Like I could ever fit into any of that!
“I’m dying from the anticipation,” Penny says drily. She hands me a pair of scissors and perches next to the box on the couch, crossing her legs and looking expectantly up at me.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter. “It’s just so pretty. I hate to open it,” I mutter under my breath. Gripping the scissors in one hand, I make a long tear in the side of the pretty white box. The lid pops off in my hand and I glance down to see black silk nestled in silky white tissue paper.
There’s a small note folded on top of the silk and I pick it up with trembling fingers.
“What does it say?” Penny asks.
“Nothing,” I lie, glancing over the note and stuffing it in my pocket. Truthfully, I didn’t even have time to read it, but I’m already opening the box in front of Penny ... I don’t have to share everything with her, not when it was likely meant for my eyes only.
“Well, at least show me what you got,” Penny says, rolling her eyes and leaning forward.
My hands don’t feel clean enough to touch something so beautiful, and I gently lift the black silk out of the box as carefully as I can. It unfolds and cascades before me until I’m looking at a strapless dress with a long slit up one side.
“There’s no way this will fit me,” I say, more to myself than to Penny.
“Try it on,” Penny urges. “Go on.”
I swallow nervously. “What if it doesn’t zip?”
“It’ll zip.”
I frown and she says, “worst case, I’ll get the Crisco and some fishing line,” Penny says. She groans. “Come on, Jilly. This is so exciting!”
“Yeah, well, maybe for you,” I say enviously. I love Penny, but sometimes I can’t help but feel jealous of her perfect body. She’s never had the same kinds of problems as me: going into a store and realizing that nothing will fit, but all of my friends are shopping there so I buy a scarf or something. She’s never had to worry about picking an unflattering style of shirt or being relegated to the section of the store with the most unflattering styles, that just make my curves look less appealing.
This dress doesn’t look anything like that kind of clothing. It looks elegant and chic, the kind of thing a movie star would wear to a premiere.
“I’ll try it, at least,” I huff, taking the dress into the bathroom and nervously shedding my pajamas. The dress is slippery and sensual in my hands, and I wonder if it’s the first time I’ve ever touched real silk. The zipper is cleverly sewn into the side, invisible to the naked eye, and I swallow hard as I step into it and try zipping it.
To my shock – and absolute delight – it zips. It squeezes my boobs into a high, intense cleavage that makes me feel like Jessica Rabbit, but it fits all the same.
I let out a loud whoop and then I hear the sound of Penny’s footsteps in the hall.
“It fits?” She asks.
“It fits!” I cheer.
Penny yanks open the bathroom door and gasps. “Oh my god, you are so hot,” she says. “Holy shit. And Mason sent you this?”
“Yep,” I say, unable to keep myself from grinning. My smile is so wide that my cheeks ache, but I can’t stop.
“This is the first time a guy has ever given me anything,” I tell Penny. “Can you believe it?”
“God, I’m jealous,” she groans. “He must be taking you somewhere really fancy later.”
I don’t care where he takes me, I think. As long as I’m alone with him, it’ll be worth it. It could be a Burger King and I’d still be happy.
The day seems to crawl by. I spend time doing things I normally hate, just to pass the hours. Penny and I clean the kitchen and I mop and dust the floors, expecting it to be six-thirty by the time I’m done. But the whole apartment is sparkling clean by two, and I consent to watching a movie with Penny, checking my phone every five minutes.
By five, I’m so anxious that I can hardly stand it.
“He’s going to cancel,” I moan, covering my face with a sofa pillow. “I can just feel it. Or he’s not going to show up.”
“Jilly,” Penny groans. “Stop. You’re just being paranoid. Dude obviously likes you,” she says, shaking her head. When I put the pillow down, I see her staring at me enviously.
“I’m so jealous,” Penny continues. “This guy is like, a billionaire who’s actually hot,” she says. “And he likes you. Clearly, like, a lot.”
“Maybe he just wants some easy sex?”
Penny scoffs, “I am sure he can get easy sexy from anywhere. He wants you.”
“But this whole thing started out backwards. We were supposed to meet, talk, go on a date, fall in love–and then sleep together.”
“For crying out loud,” Penny says, “This is real life, Jilly. Not some romantic comedy. It’s messy and dirty and imperfect. Who cares how it started? All that matters is how it ends.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m going to lie down for a few minutes,” I tell her. “I’m starting to get overwhelmed.”
After fidgeting in my bed for what feels like hours, I take a long shower and spend an extra-long time doing my hair. Penny does my makeup, and by the time I’m ready to get dressed, I almost feel beautiful.
“There was something else in the box, you know,” Penny says. She smirks at me.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at her. Did Jay send a note, too? Fuck, how could I have missed that?
Penny smiles a Cheshire-cat smile at me as she holds out two filmy pieces of fabric. I take them from her and blush all over – one of them is a thong, a sheer, barely-there thong that won’t even cover my whole pussy.
The other is a bra, but it’s open-cup, so my breasts will be exposed.
“I can’t wear these!” I say with a gasp. “That has like, no support.”
Penny laughs. “Yeah, well, men aren’t geniuses when it comes to lingerie,” she says. “But I think it’s seriously hot. You’re going to feel so sexy when you put that stuff on.”
“I’m going to feel like a slut,” I say.
“You know I hate that word, Jilly.”
As I speak, a shiver runs down my spine and I flush.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself in the last few days, it’s that I like feeling like a slut.
I don’t like it, actually.
I love it.
I love feeling like a plaything, like Mason and Jay are doing their best to torture me and make me scream and moan their names.
I know it’s wrong and dirty and naughty.
But I can’t help it – it’s like I’ve found my calling in life.
And it’s the most addictive thing I’ve ever stumbled across.
I never want to stop.
I snatch the lingerie from Penny’s hands and go to my room. Sure enough, the panties fit my hips but don’t cover my pussy lips. The silky material feels obscenely good against my skin, and I shiver as I try on the bra. It pushes my tits up, and I have a feeling that my nipples are going to be visible over the top of the dress. It’s enough to make me blush. Mason sent me this because he wanted me to wear it, I tell myself, looking at myself in the mirror. He wanted to dress me up, to play with me.
I can feel myself starting to get wet, and I try my best to shove the thoughts out of my head as I zip myself into the blac
k silk dress. Even I have to admit, the end result is stunning. I look like a plus-size pin-up girl, someone confident in her own skin.
The kind of girl with the know-how to get a man like Mason to fall in love with her.
“Jilly,” Penny calls. “There’s someone at the door!”
“Well, open it,” I yell back. “I’m almost finished,” I add loudly.
After swiping on a clear coat of lip gloss and touching up my mascara, I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be. Mason even included shoes, a thoughtful touch, and they’re platform stiletto heels with a secure leather strap that wraps around my ankle. After strapping them on, I’m finally ready.
I wobble on my heels all the way down the hall, vowing to myself that one day, I’m going to practice walking in shoes like this until I’m actually comfortable with them.
When Penny opens the door, my heart sinks.
It’s not Mason, or Jay.
A small man in uniform is standing there.
“Miss Jilly?”
I nod.
“Mr. Rhodes sent me to collect you,” he informs me. He keeps his eyes downcast, which I find really weird.
“Collect me?” I ask skeptically. What am I, a package? Mason couldn’t even be bothered to come get me?
“Yes, miss,” the man says. “We should be going soon. Mr. Rhodes doesn’t like late arrivals.”
Flushing a little, I nod.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Please come with me,” he says.
“Have fun,” Penny says. She’s smirking again, but she leans in and gives me a big hug.
“You look stunning,” she whispers in my ear. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
I blush harder as I follow the uniformed man out of our apartment and down the six flights of stairs to the ground below. There’s a town car waiting, and the man opens the back door for me.
Inside, I’m disappointed that Mason isn’t waiting for me. There’s a bucket filled with ice and champagne, but I’m too nervous to pour myself a drink. My stomach flips and flops as we pull away from the curb, and I press my face to the tinted glass. It’s stunning – watching people without having them see me at all.
