Lucky Bunny

by Eva Luxe

  I loved to see her pussy spread open before me, as she offered herself up to me as an all I can eat buffet. I loved how her mouth felt on my cock as I shoved it down her throat.

  And now I’m not going to be able to rest until I have all of her. I want my cock inside her, fucking her pussy the way I fucked her throat. I want her to hold onto my neck as my cock drills into her, over and over again.

  I know she’ll give herself to me— all of herself— because she just gave me almost everything. I just can’t wait until she does. I’m kicking myself for not fucking asking her out to dinner. I don’t know the protocol for this. Fucking your secretary might be all right, but dating her?

  I chuckle to myself as I realize how backwards that probably sounds. And then I get scared. I think about putting another call into my poor brother, but I don’t want to ruin it. I’m basking in the recent memory of everything Carolina and I just did together, and I want it to linger.

  I’ve just never felt this way about anyone. Never have I had sex with someone and then wanted to go on a date. A date was what I usually did so that I could get the sex. Not the other way around.

  I decide to text Asher Marks. I’ll probably regret it later, but fuck it. I’m drunk on the feeling of oral sex with my executive assistant.

  How did you know that Madilyn was different than other women? I text him.

  I was wrong. I won’t regret it later. I’ll regret it now. Immediately, I regret it. He’s going to know that I’m falling for my secretary, and he’s going to lecture me, and tell me they never would have partnered with me if they had known I couldn’t keep my cock in my pants and my heart off my sleeve. Or else, he’ll just think I’m a pathetic loser for falling for my employee, when it could be a quick office fling and that’s that.

  He must feel like taking pity on me, though. Because he texts me back an honest answer.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her, his text says. And that had never happened before.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  Damn.

  I’m in deep. According to Asher, this means Carolina is the one for me, like Madilyn was the one for him. Because I’ve certainly never been able to get her off my mind. Not from that first crazy day that we met, when she told me she liked the egg collection.

  My phone vibrates. It’s a follow up text from Asher.

  You okay, Buddy? The text says.

  Yes, I respond. Just making sure I never let that happen to me.

  I add a winking emoji, and he immediately texts me back, LOL.

  Then a few minutes later I get one more text from him.

  That’s good, he says. We don’t want anything messing up the great working relationship we have going.

  Is that a threat? I wonder. Why would he send me such a helpful text, and then such a menacing one?

  That’s what I fucking hate about texts. You can never tell what someone really means. If we were sitting down to have a beer he’d probably say something along the lines of, “Don’t sleep with her unless you’re really sure she’s the one for you, like Madilyn was for me.”

  In which case I could easily respond, “Done.”

  Oh, fuck.

  I really am done for.

  One way or another, Carolina Abbott is changing everything I thought I knew about my life.

  Chapter 18 – Carolina

  Saturday morning comes in nice and gently at first. I wake up so lazy and well rested, having been emotionally and physically exhausted.

  I had turned off my phone and alarm so I could sleep in since I don’t have to work today. I’m thankful that despite the sun shining through my rather thin window curtains that I’d been able to sleep in on the one morning I’d allowed myself to do it. Ever since I had stopped hiding under the covers in the depression that had resulted after Jake divorced me, I usually tried to be an early riser, but I really needed some extra sleep.

  As I wipe my eyes to adjust to the light, I glance over at my bedside clock, and see that it reads 11:00. Shit. I didn’t need that much extra sleep.

  I jump out of bed thinking there’s no way that could be the time. My clock must have stopped. After all, I’d had it for a really long time— since high school. There’s no way I had slept in until eleven.

  I grab my cell phone on my night stand to check, and there it is. The same time still blinking at me on here as it was on my not-so-broken clock. Not only is it after eleven o’clock, but there’s also a slew of texts. Garrett has been texting me all morning.

  I have a first-thing-in-the-morning conversation with myself.

  Okay, Carolina. No, no… this isn’t happening. I need my coffee for this.

  I jump out of my bed, pull my curtains wide open, and there’s the twelve-year-old peeping Tom gawking at me in my tank and thong. I flash him and give him the finger. I’m in no mood.

  After a very strong cup of java, I brace myself for the messages. The first reads:

  I can’t get you out of mind. I thought once was enough, but I’m thinking of you even more than usual. Will you please text me back?

  I can’t believe I can have this much power over the firm rebel. I imagine Garrett sitting alone with his phone all day, trying to get a hold of me. Erin tells me that women call him all the time, that they try the office when he ignores their cell phone messages. They want his time, they want sex, they want dinner by Saturday— and here he is texting me instead.

  I’d told Erin that the few times I’ve answered Garrett’s calls in his office, there hadn’t been much of that, and she’d said it’s because he’s really falling for me. He’s cut off contact with the other women. But can it be true?

  Text two read:

  Listen, we need to talk. Are you ignoring me on purpose?

  There were more like it, that had come throughout the morning. I turn my phone off, choosing to escape to a good movie at the theatre instead. I had known in my gut that the intensity of what was happening between us wasn’t going to be solved with one momentary sexual encounter.

  My instincts had told me that, and I’m sure he knew it too, but we were so physically compatible that neither of us could listen to instinct. It would prove disastrous at some point, I was sure of it. But for now, I was going to hide in a dark theatre.

  Monday would come soon enough, and it would certainly be the end of my job. Truly, the way he was reacting, I might not even have a job, but I push the thought from my mind.

  I want to take things further with him, but I’m afraid of where we’ll end up. I have a tendency to be too negative and let my mind run away with worse case scenario type thinking.

  I can’t stand to think of all the awful things just yet. I want just one weekend to savor what just happened, and wonder what might happen next, without worrying about what will ultimately happen. Because just as Ruby and Madilyn and Katie had warned me, these things rarely turn out well. Sure, their own situations turned out well, but I’d be naïve to think that my story could have a happy ending too.

  Garrett might think he’s super into me, but once we have sex it will end right there. And I don’t want that to happen yet. I just want to enjoy what we have for the short amount of time that we have it.

  Or am I just telling myself that because I’m afraid of the truth?

  I’m afraid to admit that I’m falling in love with him, and that it seems he’s also falling in love with me?

  Because what if I’m wrong? I just need to watch this movie and turn my brain off. Or else it might explode like my synapses did when Garrett went down on me in his office.

  Chapter 19 – Carolina

  On Monday, I go in early as usual. Erin asks about my weekend, and I simply respond that it was low-key and that I took in a movie. Which is true, but only because I’ve still been ignoring Garrett’s texts. For a second, I think I might be able to handle being here, and then he walks in.

  “Good morning, Erin. Carolina. Happy Monday.”

  He’s playing it cool and nonchalant. A
little too cool and nonchalant.

  Erin looks at me with eyes that say she knows something’s up. I disregard her glance and walk away. This little thing that Garrett and I have going on is certainly not going to go away very easily.

  He could barely speak to me, the sexual tension so real and thick between us you could cut it with a knife. Still, I resign myself to my office, as does he, and we manage to avoid each other at least most of the day.

  But after lunch, when I think he has gone to a company-wide conference with the partners, I’m about to go to his office to try to drop off some work I’d done for him. I notice his door slightly ajar. I can see him through the narrow opening, and he’s pacing and talking very low into a cell phone.

  “Bob, she is driving me mad. Look, it’s not like every other time. Seriously, her smell, her presence… It’s driving me mad. What do I do?”

  Then he listens. I look around the hallway to see if anyone is watching. They’re not, so I continue to eavesdrop.

  “No, I can’t fire her. Are you kidding me? First of all, she could sue me for sexual harassment, and second of all, she’s damn good at her job. I’ve just opened myself up to litigation, made the firm vulnerable, but worse, Bob, I can’t get over her. Help me, man. You’re my brother. Tell me what to do…”

  I hear Erin clomping down the hall in her platforms, so I bolt back to my desk. I’m lost. This man has become my everything. I have been so torn, trying to figure out if it’s just a silly office fling or if it’s for real. I can imagine a future with him, yet here we are in a very uncomfortable situation. Apparently, the thought of being with me has been torturing him just as much as the thought of being with him has been torturing me.

  I decide I will make it easy for him. I will act like everything’s all right, and surely that will fix things. If I behave as though nothing had happened between us, everything has to return to some semblance of normal.

  But it doesn’t.

  He starts to find excuses to come to my office. He begins missing meetings. He stays late to see me or comes in early, hoping to catch me before I start my workday.

  I’m flattered by the attention, but I know things will be coming to a head soon. He makes himself so present, so available, that I have a feeling we’re either going to surrender to the urge again— and this time we’ll go all the way— or I’ll have to leave my job because the temptation is just too strong.

  Chapter 20 – Carolina

  A week later, urges win.

  Garrett asked me a couple days ago to black out today— Thursday evening— to work late on a project. I’m still naively entertaining the notion that it could be for strictly professional reasons. He has been doing quite well maintaining his focus and staying away from me except when our work dictates that we spend time close to one another.

  I do my best to remain cool and unaffected by his presence, but as time goes on, I can feel my resolve slipping. If I am to keep my job, this meeting has to be just like any other. I had blocked out the evening, as requested, and by the time Thursday evening is here, Garrett and my attraction to him are the last things on the agenda.

  It really has been an extremely busy day, so working into the late evening on the project seemed the natural order of things. And it is. When I make my way to Garrett’s office, I discover that he had set out several folders for us to review, and things start out rather businesslike.

  “Okay, read me the case summary that the law clerks typed up for us,” he commands, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair.

  I read. He’s engrossed in the summary, even asking me to go back a few sentences and repeat myself a few times. He asks me to go to Lexis to find a case, which I do. It’s all very much on the level.

  Then, as I find a particularly valuable piece of info, I yell out, “Garrett, hey wait! This is precedent setting. This will prove the plaintiff’s case. Our client will be able to win!”

  He steps up behind me to read the screen over my shoulder. I turn back to see his reaction, and it happens.

  The look he gives me lasts a second too long, and then he’s kissing me as if there is no other woman on the planet. I stand up, and he takes me into his arms. Even though we’ve had only one brief encounter, he feels strong, familiar, and safe.

  As we kiss, I pull off his tie and begin unbuttoning his shirt. I slip my hands inside it and run them along his muscled, tattooed pecs and around to his back, his skin warm and smooth beneath my fingertips. As I continue to undress him, he takes my shirt off, and then my bra and my skirt.

  I stand before him in only a skimpy pair of black panties while he wears only his boxers. When he meets my gaze, I can feel that this wasn’t the same as it was the first time. There is no going back now. And I don’t want to go back.

  But as he holds me and we kiss, I know we can’t be foolish.

  “Do you have a condom, Garrett?” I ask.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve had to worry about protection. In my recent past, with Jake, I’d been worried about the opposite— trying to conceive.

  He frowns. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, find out,” I protest.

  I don’t know who he’s been with, and I have to protect myself.

  “It’s okay, I’ll pull out.”

  “No… that’s not it.” I bite my lip, frustrated.

  I really don’t want to go into my whole history, just to explain to him that it’s not pregnancy I’m worried about. It’s STDs.

  He walks over to his jacket and begins feeling around in the pocket.

  There is no middle ground here. This has been weeks of holding back, holding out, putting aside raw feelings. I need him to have a condom, so that this can happen.

  “Hold on,” he says. “I think I feel one. Yes. I do. I have a condom.”

  It looks pretty old, which definitely isn’t ideal, but the fact that he has anything— old condom or new condom— is a good thing. Better than nothing.

  He returns to me and we begin to kiss once more. I can feel his thick hard cock pressing against my stomach, and I want him inside me so badly I can hardly breathe. I push his boxers down and take his cock in both of my hands. I stroke him until he is rock hard, and then I take the condom from him and roll it over the length of his shaft. He kisses me hard and then turns me around and bends me over his huge mahogany and oak desk.

  I pull my panties down and lets them drop the floor, offering myself to him. They’re bikini style, and my pussy is shaved.

  Clearly I’ve been wanting him, waiting for him, even though I’ve been denying that fact to myself. Torturing myself telling myself I can’t have him, when all along I could have. And now I finally am.

  He caresses my ass and then positions himself directly behind me. My pussy is quivering with anticipation, I want him so badly.

  He reaches between my legs and finds my clit with the tip of his cock. He rubs himself against me, sending shockwaves through my body.

  “Just fuck me, please, Garrett,” I whimper.

  “You want this inside you?” he teases, rubbing himself all over my ass.

  “Yes,” I gasp, nearly begging.

  He pulls back and then finally puts the tip of his cock at the opening to my pussy. He teases me a bit more, gently sliding the head of it in and out of me, while I moan and beg him some more.

  “Please Garrett, please put it all the way inside me.”

  And then, with a single full thrust, he’s inside me. He feels so good. It’s been months and months since I’ve been with a man fully. It’s so perfect, I think I might burst.

  He pulls back nearly completely and then drives himself into me again and again, his pace first slow and sensuous, then faster and more frantic. Before long, he is groaning and panting, and I knew he was going to come.

  I felt my own orgasm rising, when suddenly he pulls out. I lay against the smooth wood of his desk, my orgasm just out of reach. I turn to see what had happened, and he looks concerned.

 
; “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “It broke.”

  “What?”

  “It broke. The condom broke.”

  “But you pulled out, right?”

  “Um, eventually.”

  “Well, obviously eventually. I mean you pulled out…”

  “Um, I don’t know. No… I came.”

  “Shit!”

  I feel distraught. But how can I blame him? It wasn’t his fault at all, but after years of trying to get pregnant, the last thing on my mind is daily birth control like the pill or an IUD. The chances of me getting pregnant are infinitesimal.

  He really has nothing to worry about. He hugs me and kisses my neck, and I turn and hold him close, admiring the tattoos lining his chest.

  “Listen, don’t worry. I don’t even think I can get pregnant. My doctor said women with endometriosis have a very hard time, almost always needing IVF. My ex husband and I have been through all of the fertility specialists and still nothing worked. That’s why he’s my ex husband. Well, one of the reasons anyway. But seriously, don’t worry.”

  “Are you on the Pill?”

  “No, but honestly, I can’t get pregnant. Really. The chances are pretty low.”

  “STDs? Should I be concerned?”

  “Of course not. Clean as a whistle. Uh, you are too, I hope.”

  “Yeah. Although this is a conversation we probably should have had pre-sex.”

  “But no, no of course,” I tell him, scrambling to reassure him, even though it’s not my fault the condom broke, either. “No STDs. Look, if you are really worried, you should know that my ex husband, whom I loved very much, left me because we tried and tried to get pregnant and couldn’t. We even tried IVF, and it never worked. The doctors said the chances of success were less than ten percent given we had exhausted all avenues… Ugh, TMI. Sorry.”

  I cross my arms across my bare breasts, suddenly feeling very exposed and self-conscious.

  “No, no it’s okay,” he says, sounding truly apologetic. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “I’m just telling you so you don’t worry for the next month. I promise, it’s fine.”