by Rowena
His blue eyes darken. “Head over here then. On your knees,” he commands in a firm, deep voice.
I slide from my chair to my knees then start shuffling over to him.
Thank goodness he’s not far.
His eyes don’t leave me as he slowly unbuckles his slacks.
He times it so that his pants fall to his ankles just before I reach him, and his dick is out and ready for me, long and thick and leaving me wondering if I was ever able to wrap my hand around it. And I have some pretty long fingers.
I give it a try, taking his length in my hand, sliding my hand up and down his massive fleshy rod, amazed at its girth.
“Jaxson,” escapes me in a tight whisper before I close my mouth over his smooth mushroom tip.
I barely register him sucking in a breath; in fact, I might have actually imagined it because his voice, when it comes, sounds calm and in control.
“That’s it,” he rumbles as my tongue curls and slides over his shaft then teases the underside of the bulbous head.
“Candace,” he says less calmly as I start bobbing my head over him, my lips pressed firmly against his flesh as I slide my mouth up and down.
He curls his fingers in my hair lightly, and I think I hear his toes crack when my mouth briefly leaves his rod to lick his balls, teasing the textured sacks with my tongue.
I return to his dick with even more fervor as my core drips with need, and both his hands cradle my head before using it as leverage as he starts thrusting into my mouth, making my eyes water as I choke on his length.
“Fuck, I’m going to shoot down your throat if you don’t…”
I don’t stop, working the lower half of his cock with my hand while my lips and tongue service the top half, moving faster and faster while moaning with my own need, the muffled sounds vibrating against his skin.
Hot liquid hits the back of my throat, and Jaxson holds me in place as his dick shoots jet after jet of cum into my mouth.
I didn’t mean to stay there and take all of it, but I’m unable to move out of the way with his hold on me.
Even though Jaxson is winding down now, my body is still throbbing and aching with desperation, lust and need nearly deranging me.
“Please help me,” I say once my lips are free as he pulls his cock from my mouth.
His dick is still hard, and I can’t stop thinking about hopping on top of it or having him pull me to my feet then trap me against the wall, lifting my leg and pulling my panties aside to shove his cock into my dripping entrance.
He does help me to my feet, but he picks me up and takes me over to his desk, clearing a space to plop my butt on.
He reaches under my skirt and pulls my panties aside, his fingers quickly finding my slippery core.
“Christ, Candace, you’re soaked,” he says wondrously, and I can’t say anything to that; I can’t say anything beyond “please”—my body needs relief too badly to use energy to form a coherent sentence.
Please put me out of my misery, please help me out…
He grabs the sides of my panties and pulls them apart completely, tossing the ruined fabric aside then pulling my ass to the edge of the desk, before dropping low to bring his head to my sopping middle.
He inhales deeply then says, “You’re in so much trouble,” before darting his tongue out to lick my pulsing core, making me jump.
His lips close over my pussy, his tongue flickering over my sensitive, slippery folds.
My head falls back in tortured surrender as his mouth delivers his dirty french kiss.
I grab the back of his head to keep him in place since I’m so close, but he pulls away and stands to bring his mouth to mine for a real kiss, filling my nostrils with my own scent as his lips hungrily pull at mine.
While his tongue explores my oral cavern, his finger finds its way inside me and he starts fucking me with it, sliding it in and out of my slick, tingling hole while pressing his palm against me, tickling my clit.
It’s all too much—everything in me has tightened to the bursting point, and I come hard against the wriggling finger inside me, my climactic cry swallowed by his plundering mouth.
My inner walls are still pulsing against his finger when his lips leave mine to say, “I need that on my cock so badly.”
After one last delicious shiver, Jaxson slides his finger from my snug entrance and licks it clean, staring at me hard as he does it.
“You smell, taste, and feel wonderful,” he practically growls, looking unsettlingly predatory.
I’m still panting hard, slowly coming down from orgasmic heights, unable to respond verbally to anything, though our location and circumstances are slowly coming back to me.
Here I am with my skirt hiked up, sitting on top of my boss’s desk on my first day of work!
Could anyone hear us? How weird will it be to go about the rest of the day without underwear?
“Straighten up in there,” Jaxson says, indicating a private bathroom on the side opposite his proposed workspace for me.
I hop off his desk, shift my skirt down then head where directed, my head spinning with all sorts of thoughts while trying to ignore the burn of Jaxson’s gaze on my back.
Jaxson and his desk look as if nothing happened when I emerge from the bathroom.
All papers and office tools are back in place, and he’s sitting behind the desk writing something, no sign of my torn underwear or anything.
He doesn’t look up at me when he says, “Sit down,” indicating the chair in front of his desk—the one I originally sat in to have my first interview. The one I’d been sitting in before what just happened between us happened.
“I’ll begin by saying that what I’m about to mention is not up for debate; it’s a job requirement. I will refer you to the relevant sections of your contract should you have further questions.”
He puts his pen down then levels his blue-eyed gaze directly at me.
“I’m sending you home early today, but your workday is not over—you are to pack all of your essentials and make whatever arrangements you need to in order to move out of your current residence by this evening. ”
“Now, wait just a second…”
“Again, I’ll refer you to the relevant parts of the documents you signed where you agreed to such demands.”
Is he serious? Sure, he’s my boss, but he’s not the boss of me!
“You are unbelievable, sir. How can you ask such a thing? I…”
“I’m not asking—I’m telling you there’s no way I’m lying awake all night worrying about you in that shithole you call a home again. You’ve made it very clear you’d love nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but your financial circumstances prevent you.” He leans back a little. “Now, I imagine your unit is not very big, and based on that and what you’ve told me about losing everything, I figure you don’t have a lot of stuff, so it shouldn’t take you very long. I’ll handle the landlord. I can even sort out your mail forwarding if you’d like.”
He pauses a moment, and I wonder if he expects me to fill the silence with cries of gratitude or something.
“I’m moving you to a safer location, Candace; you’re a sitting duck otherwise,” he says gently. “You refused my offer regarding your debts and that’s fine; this, however, is non-negotiable although you do have a choice—a unit of my choosing or a wing in my home? Either of which I’d offer to any friend in need, of course, and you and I used to be… very good friends.”
Don’t get me wrong, the idea of going home to a warmer, safer environment is appealing, but I have no doubt there are sinister eyes on me, watching my every move.
That loan shark probably keeps tabs on me somehow, and if he sees me moving, he might think I’m trying to run. If he sees me moving to some new snazzy location, he’ll think I’ve been lying all this time about my access to money, that I’ve been playing him. And if I move in with Jaxson, he could become a target.
I don’t like any of those scenarios one bit; I’d
rather stay where I am until I’m done paying my ex-husband’s debt.
“Any questions? Any concerns I need to address before I send you on your way?”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out; I haven’t figured out what to say.
I really want what Jaxson is offering, and I don’t care if he’s being bossy as hell right now and demanding this thing from me instead of asking.
I’d love to be able to arrive home one day without having to look over my shoulder or cross my fingers that no one has broken in, but I really don’t want to drag Jaxson into this.
If the loan shark finds out we’re involved in any way, they could end up increasing the payoff amount. They could even hurt him!
Jaxson had nothing to do with any of this and I’d like to keep him out of it.
This is my mess to clean up; I need to get myself out, and I recently started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
I don’t need a white knight, a sugar daddy. I’m no longer someone’s trophy wife, and I’m not some damsel in distress.
“If you say nothing, Candace, I’ll bring you to my home. So which is it? My residence or an apartment of my choosing?”
“You’re goddamned bossy, you know that?”
“Not the first time I’ve heard it.”
I think hard.
Part of me loves the idea of moving into a part of Jaxson’s home too much—the silly teenager inside me is squealing at the thought.
It was our dream once—although not quite this corrupted version of it.
Teenaged me imagined the two of us working together to buy our dream home, saving up and house-shopping together, carefully selecting a place where we planned to spend our lives together—not because he feels obligated to pull me out of some sewage.
None of our future plans involved any of us reaching down out of charity—we were going to go through everything holding hands. Together.
“Separate apartment,” I grumble, though part of me starts celebrating.
Jaxson isn’t going to play around and take me up a notch or two from where I am now—he’s going to set me up in something the younger version of me would have expected nothing less than, even if it’s just to show off and rub my face in his wealth.
“Fantastic!” he says with an empty smile. “I’ll check in on you in a few hours, although seeing how it’s…” He checks his watch, “…almost two now, you have more than enough time to be ready to be moved out by seven. I’ll send two men to help you.”
“The new apartment—can it be gated?”
One side of his mouth turns up a little.
“Absolutely. You’ll be in a very secure building.”
He’s watching me too intently now, as if trying to read something I’m trying to hide—which, obviously, I am.
I forgot the way he could make me unravel and spill any beans, his prying eyes peeling back protective layers until I give up the truth.
“Are you running from someone?” he asks gently, and if I didn’t know him so well, I would describe it as tentative—an attempt to tease information from me.
But I know his tricks—it was a demand to answer, nothing tentative about it.
“Yeah, you. Sir,” I say.
This makes him laugh, and the room pressure suddenly lifts.
I guess part of his lightness comes from having me give in to his demand.
“I’ll make a few calls and get you sorted out. Just be ready for pickup by seven.”
I nod my agreement, excitement beginning to build at the thought of finally leaving my rundown, crime-ridden neighborhood.
It’s surreal.
Just about everything since the moment Jaxson showed up right before my job interview has been absolutely, wonderfully surreal.
Until I start heading home again, that is.
But this time, instead of the usual dread filling me, I feel a bit buoyed by hope.
6
Candace
8 Years Ago…
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Jaxson asks, cradling me in his strong arms.
From what I understand, he started working long before I seriously thought about future careers—unofficial, under-the-table type stuff while too young by law.
But since being the proper legal age, he’s been doing all sorts of odd jobs.
He doesn’t talk about them much, but I know right now he’s working in a car repair shop.
“Well, in kindergarten, I wanted to be a stewardess or ‘airplane lady’ because there was one that made a huge impression on me on a flight my parents and I took once. She was so beautiful and looked so cool—I thought so anyway. Crisp white blouse, navy blue skirt, immaculate updo, bright red lipstick. Not only was she stunningly pretty, she was so nice! She always had a beautiful smile on her face, and I totally wanted to be just like her. I eventually learned it wasn’t exactly an aspirational sort of career, and my parents started steering me toward the preferred occupations…”
Jaxson leans his head back and starts fake snoring loudly, his gorgeous blue eyes closed.
“I guess all that to say I’m leaning toward being a lawyer,” I finish with a playful slap on his arm.
He fake-awakens with a cartoonish shake of his head. “Is that what you want or what your parents want?” he asks.
I think about it for a moment.
“I think that’s what I actually want. I definitely don’t still want to be a stewardess—I’ve since learned the service industry is not for me. Nothing else really grabbed my interest but the criminal justice system. Anyway, once I’m in college, I’ll probably have a better idea.”
He smooths back my shoulder-length relaxed hair and kisses my forehead.
“I’m not going far,” I reassure him. “I’ll pick a school that won’t put too much distance between us.”
Not going to college at all was out of the question—it wasn’t what we Browns did. Our family lines had generations of college grads; we’ve been consistently college-educated since the fifties, at least.
Both my parents have advanced degrees—my mom a Ph.D. in psychology, my dad a master’s in business.
While an advanced degree is optional, a bachelor’s degree is a given.
“I’ll be able to support you, you know. One day, Candace, I’ll have enough money for you to do whatever you want; you won’t have to change anything.”
“I know, Jax,” I say, wanting to soothe him.
I know he’s still insecure about the differences between us, still self-conscious of dirt underneath his fingernails, motor oil on his clothes.
He is faced with constant reminders of the class differences between us, but to me, all that matters is being near him, being held by him.
I don’t think about how much money he has; I don’t have to—my family has plenty.
I know one day I’ll be sort of on my own, but I also know I have a trust fund, and my parents sorted out my college funds long ago. It’s likely I’ll get scholarships anyway.
In any case, I’ll be starting my adult life debt-free with a bachelor’s degree and immediate job offers due to my parents’ networks, and all the while, a lifesaver stashed away.
But trying to assure Jaxson we’ll be fine is impossible; he’s adamant about carving out a path that puts him in a position to provide for me in a way I’m used to. Despite everything, he’s a pretty traditional guy.
“I’m not saying you don’t have to worry about working or anything—I know you want to—I just want to make sure you know…”
“That you have no plans to live off of my family’s money?”
“Well, yeah. I’ll have my own company someday and change the generational narrative of my own family. I’m going to be rich, Candace.”
“You don’t have to be rich for me to be with you, Jax. I love you just as you are. And even if some weird tragedy takes place and we have to fight to make a living, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy. Don’t you get that?”
“That�
��s how I feel too, but…”
“Shh. My parents want me to be happy more than anything; no way they’ll take me from you. They’ll resist the idea at first, but they’ll see that being with you means everything to me.” I rest my head on his chest, enjoying the feel of his heart’s steady beat. “I hope we stay together forever, Jaxson.”
I turn to look up at him, catching his blinding smile at my earnest declaration, his blue eyes sparkling with love.
“Me too, baby. Me too,” he says softly, then plants a kiss on my forehead.
Present Day
The moment I laid eyes on Jaxson Pace I knew he was it for me.
I had a certainty in my gut that I was one of the lucky few who got to meet their soulmate early.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t come from the same social circles, that we were so different from each other in several surface ways—all that mattered was fulfilling the promise in his bright blue eyes—eyes that had remained on me even after his voice faltered as we met.
I stared silently back at him as he held the delivery my family had ordered for our junk food night—pizzas this time—managing not to look awkward in his corny uniform of blue, red, and black.
It was as if time had stopped just for us, giving us the opportunity to appreciate the magnitude of the event and take a mental snapshot of the exact moment we realized we’d just encountered the love of our lives.
We managed to complete the exchange, and he wrote his name and number on the back of our receipt while my family awaited my return with food for movie night in the living room.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Every moment with Jaxson afterward felt like some sort of alternate reality, a dreamlike atmosphere surrounding us, and it wasn’t just because I had to sneak out to see him, sometimes crafting elaborate deception plans for the sake of my parents.
I knew better than to tell anyone about him right away, and we saw each other secretly for over a year, stealing moments whenever we could, spending hours on telephone calls. I even had the sense to get a prepaid phone for this purpose so my parents couldn’t track the calls.
