Just A Man (The Porter Trilogy Book 1)

by Shannon Youngblood

  “Fuck, Charlie. Fuck!” he threw his head back as he hissed out my name. I couldn’t help the grin that creeped up on my face. I felt powerful. I felt marvelous. I moved my kisses down, kneeling between his legs, and copied the same path he had done on my stomach on Saturday. working around his navel to the top of his boxers. I could feel the strain against the inside of his pants. He had to have been in utter agony and I reveled in the moment.

  Keeping my lips on his stomach, I reached my hands up from the floor and unzipped his trousers. His erection, still bound by his boxers, sprung free. I remembered the way it had felt in my hands on Saturday. Large and hard. I wanted to feel it without any restrictions. I tapped his waist, giving him the hint that I wanted him to lift his ass so I could slide down the interfering clothing. He took my hint and raised his hips.

  As soon as he popped out, I was entranced. He was rock hard and huge. His manhood laid against his stomach, almost reaching his belly button, causing my mouth to form an “O” with my shock. I removed his pants and threw them behind me. The urge to touch him was incredibly strong, so I reached my hand out. As soon as I touched it, he rasped out in delight and flung his head back once more.

  He felt like rock solid velvet in my fingers. The was a small drop of come on the tip, and ,even though I had never done this before willingly, all I wanted to do was reach out and taste it. He lifted his head to look down at me. The lust in his eyes empowered me. I ran my finger over the drop and brought it to my lips. When I looked up at him, I thought his eyes would bulge out of his head. His control was slipping, but I wasn’t done with him yet. I wanted to explore his body at leisure and get to know every inch.

  I propped myself up and took his swollen cock into my hands, starting a slow motion up and down, twisting, feeling. His breathing was fast and hard and I delighted in it. When I dipped down to take his swollen head in my mouth, I thought he would come out of his seat with surprise. All I wanted to do was taste him and I wasn’t going to let him stop me.

  “Charlie, no you don’t have to do that,” he said, looking down on me with awe and salaciousness.

  I knew, if I spoke, I wouldn’t be able to control the shakiness of my voice, so I gave him a little smile and went back to my worshipping. I didn’t want to be shy, so I dove right in, stroking him with my tongue from the base all the way up the shaft to his tip before I took him all the way into my mouth. I felt his hot head touch the back of my throat. I’d never really had gag reflexes and I knew that the more I relaxed, the farther I could take him. I enjoyed the challenge, almost as much as the noises I was pulling from Alex.

  When I took in as much as I could stand, which was just about all of it, I flicked my tongue along the protruding vein on the base of his shaft and felt him harden even more in my mouth. He was delicious. Absolutely delectable. I continued my assault on his manhood, up and down, with a flick of the wrist here and there for good measure. I was working him into a frenzy, paying him back for the similar reaction he had created with me on Saturday.

  Normally his intense stare would have flustered me and made me want to quit, but honestly, it was giving me a thrill. His penetrating amber eyes bore a hole into me that made me feel things. Deep things. I wanted to feel this way forever. I wanted the serenity to engulf us and keep us in our own bubble. I could feel his length getting larger and harder in my throat.

  He bucked in my mouth every few seconds and I could tell he was trying to draw out the sensations I was giving to him. He wanted this to last as long as I did. He reached his hand down to my shirt but i smacked his hand away. He had his time on Saturday, now it was my turn.

  It didn’t take long for him to start to squirm, and I felt him grow immensely in my mouth. I don’t know what provoked me to do it, but I reached my hand under him and grabbed his heavy sac in my hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “Fuck, Jesus Christ, Charlie, I’m going to come. If you don’t want that, pull away now. NOW!” he yelled. When he saw I had no intentions of pulling away, he again demanded to see my eyes. I looked up and locked onto his eyes as they poured out more than I had ever seen from him.

  I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted everything he would give me, and, half a second later, I got my wish. Looking deep into his eyes, his hot salty liquid squirted into the back of my throat. It was bitter. Almost like coffee, which made me mentally chuckle. I knew how much he loved his java. I swallowed everything that came out of him and continued stroking him through his climax, like he had done for me. When I felt his body start to relax, I gave his tip one last lick and released my hands. He was still hard as stone. Good God, this man could probably go for round two already, and, if I wasn’t careful, I might let him.

  His breathing was labored and his head was tilted back with his eyes closed. With the exception of his chest rising and falling, he looked peaceful, serene. I was feeling awkward as I sat back on my heels and just kind of stared at him for a while. Would he even know if I got up and left?

  Self-doubt plagued my mind. Was this to be the relationship between us? Professional, snarky, demeaning Mr. Porter in public; slutty, wanton Miss Hightower behind closed doors? Like a really fucked up Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I guess I must have sighed, because he lazily looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back, but it wasn’t very genuine and probably didn’t reach my eyes, and it prompted him to scrunch his brow.

  “Are you alright, Charlotte? That was fucking amazing. Did I hurt you?” his tone was escalating with each question. He sounded worried, and then pleased, and then worried again.

  I put my hand up to stop his rant. “I’m alright, Mr. Porter, and no, you didn’t hurt me.” All of the power I had been feeling was officially gone. As much as I enjoyed what I had inflicted on him, I suddenly felt deflated and cheap.

  I watched as he sat up and pulled up his boxers, concealing his still hard erection, and his pants, and fastened them, following suit with his shirt. He looked at me curiously and I could tell he was trying to figure out my mood. He’d never figure it out, because I couldn’t even figure it out. I loved the experience and the sensations and the lust coursing through me, but I hated the fact that I felt used again.

  I stood up and smoothed out my skirt. I was in the process of buttoning the top button of my shirt, which I never even saw come undone, when the door to Mr. Porter’s office slammed open, revealing a very posh, very angry Sarah Mansfield, looking like a bull in a china shop, ready to charge.

  Chapter 12

  My feet were rooted to the floor. If looks could kill, I would have been dead about a million times over, but Alex, on the other hand, looked cool as a cucumber. He sat up in his chair and ran his fingers through his long hair before threading his fingers together in front of him, lightly tapping his lip with his thumb. No one coming in would have been able to tell he had just had an orgasm less than five minutes prior to this moment.

  “In case you were wondering, Miss Hightower, the job of a personal assistant is to answer his phone, welcome his clients, and pick up his dry cleaning,” she spat out.

  I had to smirk at the reminder of the last time I had done the latter chore. She didn’t seem to like my smile because she marched right into my personal space, leaned down to my ear and whispered, “Listen here you little slut, Alex Porter is mine! You can’t have him. You’re nothing but a plaything. Something for him to stick his dick into!” She stood up and smoothed her jacket down, before looking me in the eye and saying, “Go do your job, little girl, and get me my coffee.”

  I was torn on what I should do. I wanted to punch her in her stupid smug face, but, sex aside, I truly enjoyed my job. So, with a touch of defiance, I lifted my chin, walked right past her and said, “No problem, old woman.” as I stormed out the door. I shouldn’t have retorted in that way, or at least I should have found an insult slightly better than that and I’m sure I was going to regret it, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  I internally froze when I heard the chuckle that flew out of Mr.
Porter’s mouth as I watched the door shut on her stunned face. I grabbed my purse from the drawer and made a mad dash to the elevator. I was freaking out a little bit. I was also hoping that my insult had kept her looking away from the cameras long enough that she didn’t see my fast feet fly me to the elevator. She didn’t need to see the fact that I was flustered.

  When the doors shut in my face, I burst into a fit of giggles. I couldn’t help it. In a matter of three or four minutes, I had sucked my boss off AND insulted his girlfriend. I’m pretty sure my moral compass was shattered. What the hell was wrong with me? My hysterical giggles turned to sobs and then, my sobs turned to full blown out tears. This was the second time in a week I had shamed myself with no words of love, or even likes to be heard. My brain hurt and I didn’t know how to feel anymore.

  Yeah right, Hightower. Love? You must be joking. No one could ever love a slut like you. My subconscious, although cruel, was right. How could anyone love me? I was damaged goods. I pressed the emergency stop and slumped against the wall. I didn’t want to go get coffee and return it to that bitch, so I sat there and cried. I cried for my present, I cried for my past, but mostly I cried for my future, or lack thereof.

  **********

  After I fixed my hair and my face in the elevator mirrors, and I looked only half presentable, I released the emergency stop and glided down the remaining floors. I stepped out of the elevator looking at the floor. I didn’t want to see Jerry or Brigitte and I surely didn’t want to look up into the cameras. I walked briskly past reception hoping to not be noticed when Fred, the security guard from my interview, called out my name.

  “Miss Hightower, hang on just a sec,” he ran over to catch up with me.

  On a long, drawn out sigh, I turned around and presented him with a smile. I couldn’t forget my manners, even if I just wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard him. I would have rather ran out of the doors into the warm refreshing air and gulped in the tainted, smog-filled oxygen.

  “Hi Fred, How are you this afternoon? What can I do for you?” I managed, with little sincerity.

  “Oh, I’m fine, Miss Hightower, but Mr. Porter asked me to hold you if you came down to wait for him.” His eyebrows rose, probably wondering why the boss would be chasing his personal assistant around the office.

  I looked over at the elevator to see that it had, in fact, headed back up to the 48th floor. I didn’t wanna see him. I was still too disgusted with myself to face him. But, it looked as if I didn’t have a choice. I had no doubt in my mind that Fred would tackle me to the floor and handcuff me to the turnstile if I tried to run. So, instead, I smiled politely back at Fred and motioned to the couch in the lobby where I would wait for him. Fred nodded and returned to his post, keeping an eye on me.

  A few moments later, the elevator dinged to announce my bosses arrival on the ground floor. Even after our quick BJ, he looked absolutely stunning. Because it had been so dark, I hadn’t really been able to make out his suit today; not that I was really paying attention anyways. Today, he was wearing jet black pants, a crisp white shirt, and a black suit jacket over the top. His shoes were, as they say, spit shined, and I bet I could have seen my reflection in them. Additionally, he was wearing a blood red tie with tiny white polka dots that made his eyes seem almost orange. He was intoxicating. He walked with purpose. Grace.

  “Daydreaming, Miss Hightower?” Oh great, we’re back to the professional greetings. He grinned down at me.

  “No, sir,” I muttered. “What can I do for you? I was just heading to get Ms. Mansfield her coffee, and yours, of course, as well, unless you’d like something different?” My voice was shaky at best and I couldn’t even look him in the eye.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can guess what I’m craving right now, Charlotte, but since we are currently in a public setting, I will refrain from embarrassing us both by demonstrating how much I want that craving.” He looked at my stunned expression and drug a hand through his hair. “I came down here to apologize to you for Ms. Mansfields’ words. I don’t know what exactly she said to you, but I know that woman, and she can be a snake.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?” I clapped a hand over my mouth as soon as the words tumbled out. OH. MY. GOD. I did not just say that. The deadly expression on his face confirmed that I had just asked him that and I dropped my head in embarrassment. I couldn’t seem to get away from that emotion whenever he was near.

  “No, Miss Hightower, she is not. She is a business associate and a dear friend, and that is all. This discussion is off limits.” He spat out, clearly unhappy with trailing down after me.

  “Sorry to upset you, sir.” I kept my head lowered and focused on my fidgeting fingers in my lap. I just wanted to get out of here.

  “Look at me, Charlotte.” I did as he asked, looking into those eyes I was slowly falling for. “What happened in my office was nothing short of amazing for me. I want to talk to you more, but not here, and not with her sitting in my office watching my cameras. Please, go home for the day. Relax, unwind. I know it’s unorthodox to send my personal assistant home in the middle of the day, but I know that I can be a prick sometimes and I don’t want that for you. Go home, Charlotte,” he pleaded with me.

  He stood and waited for me to stand before heading back to the elevator.

  “Thank you, Mr. Porter.” I whispered. I wasn’t sure he heard me, until he turned around and whispered back:

  “Don’t thank me, my daydreamer.”

  **********

  Danny was home when I got there, which was surprising, since I thought he had a shoot today. When I questioned him about it, he shrugged it off as not important. I really wanted to ask him, but he didn’t look ready to talk, and honestly, talking with him would only alert him to my own problems and I was NOT ready to hash those out right now.

  I called Brigitte at work and rescheduled with her for our shopping trip. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now and, as much as I loved hanging out with Brigitte and shopping, I was too tired to put through any effort for normalcy. I needed me time, and lots of it. I felt like it had been a week since I had driven into the office, nervous over our first encounter. I was exhausted.

  I was truly grateful Alex had sent me home when he did. I was having some sort of a breakdown. Too many memories flooding my mind, too many feelings flooding my heart. I remember thinking, as he walked towards me, that I was falling for him. How could I be falling for someone I just met? I couldn’t begin to process what my betraying heart was doing to me.

  I went into the bathroom to take a hot shower. I needed the calming rush of scalding heat to maybe knock some sense into me. You can’t fall in love with someone within a week. And my teenage years taught me there was no such thing as love at first sight, lust maybe, but certainly not love. I heard my phone ding, announcing the arrival of a new text message, but I decided to ignore it until after my shower. There were so many things my poor mind was trying to process and I didn’t need any other distractions.

  I soaked and scrubbed and shaved until the water started getting chilly, before I heaved a sigh and stepped out. I took extra special care of my hair, since I had recently neglected it. I loved my red locks more than anything else. When everything went down eight years ago, I think I cried more from my loss of hair than I did about the despicable things that had been done to me, although all of it haunted my dreams.

  After I dried my hair and changed into my comfy jammies, I plopped down on my bed, grabbing my kindle. Maybe I could just lose myself in a good book and give my wayward thoughts a break. While I was grabbing my kindle, I remembered the incoming text I had gotten. I may as well get it out of the way now before I immersed myself into the world of Mac and Barrons in my favorite series right now, BloodFever by Karen Marie Moning.

  From- Alex Porter (310) 555-7481

  2:32pm

  I’d like to thank you again for my office visit. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, and, again, I apologize for the deplorable actions of Ms. Mans
field. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ;)

  -A

  I blushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. Did he just wink at me? This man was driving me to drink. One minute, he was moody and snapped at me, or grunted, as was his fashion, and the next, he was sending me winky face emojis. I didn’t want to be rude, so I had to respond, but I needed to safeguard my emotions, and truly think about my response.

  To- Alex Porter (310) 555-7481

  2:59pm

  You don’t need to apologize, sir. Thank you for sending me home. I appreciate it. Have a good night, Mr. Porter.

  -Miss Hightower.

  Within seconds I received his reply, making me blush all over again

  From- Alex Porter (310) 555-7481

  3:00pm

  If you were here I’d have an especially good night ;)

  -A

  Another God damn winky face? Maybe I should talk to him strictly in text messages. He was less of a domineering jerk. I didn’t know what to say to his last message, so I just set my phone down and picked up my kindle. The world of the fae seemed to be a lot more enjoyable than trying to figure out the moods of my wishy washy boss.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get in 2 pages before a familiar ding sounded from my phone.

  From- Alex Porter (310) 555-7481

  3:06pm

  Miss Hightower, I apologize for my previous message. It was unprofessional of me. I will see you at 8am tomorrow morning.

  -Alex Porter

  Well, that was interesting, and starting to become the known with him. He flipped a full 180 degrees. My mind couldn’t handle this. My heart couldn’t handle this. He went from winky faces to impassive faces. I really just didn’t want to deal with it all right now. I did the only thing I knew to do at the moment and called my mom.