Desk Job (London Menage Book 2)

by Lily Harlem

  I sighed. “Your powers of persuasion are hard to resist.”

  “Good.” He pulled out then settled next to me. He reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, held them up between us. “It won’t get weird, will it?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “That we have to work together.”

  “It won’t be weird for me.” I hoped it wouldn’t be anyway.

  “Good.”

  “In fact…”

  “What?”

  “It will be perfect because I’m in charge of your diary.” I turned to study his face. “And…”

  He frowned briefly then smiled. “Ahh, I see. You can manage our time together.”

  “Our dates, exactly.”

  “Good, schedule them in frequently and make them a top priority.” He lifted up and set a kiss over my peaked nipple. “Because I can’t imagine I’m ever going to get enough of being with you.”

  Chapter Six

  When I woke I was briefly disorientated—the large room, ceiling to floor drapes and the silky sheets all unfamiliar. Then I heard soft snoring behind me and turned.

  Andre was sleeping, one hand lay beneath his cheek and his hair zigzagged over his brow.

  I propped onto my elbow and gazed down at him, enjoying being able to study him in his unguarded state. A sliver of light poured through a crack in the curtains and slashed over his face, highlighting his big but perfectly straight nose.

  It was certainly a face I could get very used to waking up next to.

  He must have sensed me staring because he shifted, murmured, and then reached for me.

  “Morning,” he said sleepily as he scooped me close, my head just beneath his chin. “Sleep well?”

  “Very.” He hadn’t opened his eyes so I guessed there was no rush to get up and going for the day. Happily, I stretched my naked body alongside his, enjoying the warmth of flesh on flesh.

  “I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, pressing a kiss to my hair.

  His cock, thick and hard, nudged at my thigh. I slid my hand over his abs, through his pubic hair, and then took his shaft and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yes, I can tell this agrees with you.”

  “You agree with me.” He moaned softly. “And your hand on me feels amazing.”

  I smiled, my cheek bunching against his collarbone. I could do so much better than just my hand.

  Lifting slightly, I kissed my way over his chest, my breasts pressing on him as I slithered lower.

  “Stella,” he murmured.

  “Shh…” I dipped my tongue into his navel, loving the way his stomach tensed to granite as I did so. Smiling as I kissed lower, I pushed at the duvet so I had better access to his cock.

  God he was beautiful. The perfect male specimen.

  I held his cock upright and slid my tongue over the slit. It was salty and as smooth as silk.

  “Mmm…” he moaned, running his hand over my hair.

  I circled the root and took his glans into my mouth. I knew he’d be getting a good look at my butt in the air as I sank onto him, taking him deeper then deeper still.

  “Ah fuck…” he gasped.

  I was aware of him tensing as I wrapped my tongue around his shaft. I paused for a moment then set up a steady rhythm, up and down, fucking him with my mouth, my lips a tight seal around him.

  He ran his hands gently through my hair, gathering it so it didn’t get in the way of what I was doing.

  Before long, I tasted pre-cum. His shaft was thick and engorged. He wasn’t far from coming.

  I looked up at him, without pausing.

  He stared down at me. His mouth parted.

  For a moment, our gazes connected, and again I wondered what he thought of the erotic view.

  I guessed he liked it because his cock twitched and more pre-cum coated my tongue.

  Lifting, I caught his shaft in my hand and continued the fast speed I’d set up.

  “Stella,” he said, pushing to his elbows. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and sternum.

  “Come,” I said, cupping his balls as I worked his cock.

  He gritted his teeth, pulled back his lips, and watched my hand which I was moving so fast it appeared blurred.

  He was near, I could tell, his flesh like concrete and oh, so wonderfully hot in my palm.

  “Oh God…” he groaned. “It’s here.”

  My heart raced with the excitement of seeing him about to topple into release. “Yes…” I said, not letting up.

  A shot of pearly liquid burst from his slit, landing wetly on his abdomen. “Ah … yeah … yeah…” His eyes were glazed, his breaths rapid.

  Another spurt of release followed, then another. Each one accompanied by a moan.

  My pussy was damp, my nipples tight. It was so erotic, giving Andre a hand job and having him surrender his pleasure over to my control. I hoped we’d be able to have much more fun like this in the future.

  Suddenly, he grabbed my arms and spun me to the bed. He dropped over me, pinning my wrists at either side of my head.

  I giggled as his warm cum spread against my belly.

  “Are you trying to finish me off?” he asked with a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re too damn sexy for your own good, and seeing you do that before I’ve even had a coffee…”

  “Ah, you can take it.”

  “You reckon?”

  “Yeah, you’re a big boy.” I waggled my eyebrows.

  He laughed. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be big again for you.”

  “Hold that thought because now you’ve mentioned coffee. That’s what I want next.”

  He bit on his bottom lip. For a moment, he appeared to be thinking about disagreeing with the plan, then he kissed the tip of my nose and stood. “Good idea. I’ll go and get it started.”

  “Can I shower?”

  “Sure, it’s just through there.” He tugged a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers from a drawer and slipped them on.

  I was sorry to see his cute ass covered up but figured I couldn’t have him naked the whole time, it just wasn’t practical.

  After he’d wiped his belly with a tissue, he left the bedroom.

  I investigated the room Andre had indicated. It turned out to be a huge ensuite with cream tiled floor and walls, a vast walk-in shower, and a separate room that held the toilet.

  There were plenty of towels so I flicked on the water and stepped in. I was careful not to get my hair wet, I didn’t want the hassle of drying and styling it.

  I found a shower gel which had a spicy, manly scent, and used it. I was a little tender between my legs, but I liked the sensation. It reminded me of the fun we’d had the night before.

  After drying and borrowing some of his deodorant and brushing my teeth with my finger, I put on my underwear and dress. It wasn’t ideal Sunday attire, but what choice did I have?

  As I headed down the stairs, the scent of coffee hit me and my stomach rumbled. A hissing sound was coming from the kitchen.

  Andre was fussing over a frying pan, bacon was cooking, and two mugs of coffee sat on the island.

  “You’ll burn yourself,” I said, taking the spatula from him and nodding at his bare stomach.

  “Yeah, not my most sensible idea.”

  I smiled. “I would say go and get dressed but I have no problem with you wandering around nearly naked, so I’ll cook this.”

  He pressed a kiss to my shoulder then reached for a coffee. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” I took a sip. It was seriously good.

  “So what plans do you have today?” he asked then took a drink of his own coffee.

  “I need to get home.”

  He frowned. “Straight away?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a hungry mouth waiting for me.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “My cat, Lullabelle, she’ll be wondering where her breakfast is.”

  “Lullabelle.” He smiled.


  “Yes, and she’s very fussy.”

  “Like her owner?”

  “Well I can’t deny that I’m fussy about men and coffee.”

  He pushed his hand through his messy hair. “And how am I doing?”

  “Well this coffee is perfect.”

  He tilted his head and studied me.

  “And you’re doing okay so far, too.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Except for…”

  A line furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “Your memory. You have a flight in a few hours to Barcelona.”

  “Oh, fuck.” He glanced at the clock. “I…”

  “You would have forgotten?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Possibly.”

  I moved the bacon off the heat.

  Suddenly he was behind me, his arms around my waist and his mouth against my ear. “I guess I was just having such a nice time with a beautiful, sexy lady that the rest of the world stopped existing for a while.”

  We ate bacon sandwiches then Andre called me a cab. Within an hour I was letting myself into my apartment.

  “Lullabelle,” I called.

  Meow.

  She appeared from the living room, her walk lazy and her greeting indignant because she’d been left alone for so long.

  “I know, I know,” I said, scooping her up. “I’ll feed you now.”

  I took her into the kitchen and prepared her favorite salmon meal to get myself back into her good books. As she ate, I changed into lounge pants and a sloppy t-shirt. I intended to make the most of a quiet Sunday and enjoy the memories from last night.

  How had I gotten so lucky?

  Andre was a perfect man. Handsome, kind, funny, intelligent and he made me feel on top of the world.

  As I meandered through the channels, looking for a chick flick to lose myself in, the doorbell rang.

  When I answered it I was greeted with a huge bunch of red roses, three dozen at least, maybe more, all set within delicate white baby’s breath and wrapped up in black tissue paper.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Ms. Stella White?” the small man holding the flowers asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Can you sign.” He offered forward a small silver device.

  I used the stylus to scrawl my name.

  “Who is sending me flowers?” I asked.

  “There’s a card in there.” He handed them over, then turned and quickly left.

  I breathed in, hoping to inhale their scent, but the buds were still tight and I couldn’t detect a fragrance.

  After shutting the door, I found the small black envelope and peeled it open one handedly.

  Stella

  I’m so happy that you’ve come into our lives.

  Missing you already.

  Andre xxx

  A ball of emotion tightened my chest. I was missing him too. It would be several days before he was back in the office. It would be strange there without him.

  And when he did come back, would things change at work? Where would our relationship go? He was my boss. I’d started his day with a blow job…

  It would be fine. He’d said it would be and I trusted him. He’d done nothing to make me not trust him and I was the sort of person who always saw the best in people, unless they showed me a reason not to.

  I found a vase for the flowers, and, reluctant to throw away the expensive paper they’d been wrapped in, spent ages arranging them with it draped over the sides of the glass. They were lovely and as I settled back on the sofa, I found myself staring at them rather than the TV. A smile had set itself on my lips and a warm feeling had taken up residence in my chest.

  I was happy. Happy and falling in love.

  Who would have thought so much could happen in a week? And would I still feel this way next week, when Tristan Wainwright returned to the office?

  Chapter Seven

  Monday morning dawned and another warm day looked set to shine over London.

  I opted for a pale blue summer dress with a tight white belt and shoes that matched the dress. I slipped a white cardigan over my shoulders just in case the breeze was cool.

  Arriving at the office half an hour early, I was surprised to hear a voice coming from Tristan’s office.

  The door had been closed all of the previous week while he’d been away on business, but now it was ajar.

  I set my bag in the bottom drawer of my desk and draped the cardigan over the back of my seat. My desk was positioned between Tristan and Andre’s offices in such a way that I could see into each of their rooms and also whenever people approached.

  I booted up my laptop, then went to put the kettle on in the small kitchenette for staff use. I wondered if Tristan was as keen on a coffee in the morning as Andre and I were. As I waited for the water to come to the boil, I hoped that everything was going smoothly for Andre. I’d booked the whole trip for him, the hotel, the car, the conference room and the table to take his clients out to dinner that evening. Perhaps I’d drop him an email and make sure he had everything he needed.

  Wandering back to my desk with two coffees, I noticed Tristan’s office was quiet. He must have finished his telephone conversation. I decided it was a good time to introduce myself.

  I set one coffee on my desk, then rapped my knuckles on his door.

  “Come in.”

  He didn’t look up from behind his huge desk, just continued to tap away on his computer.

  His hair was coal-black and thick, he’d already discarded his suit jacket and his shirt was pale gray with a darker gray tie.

  “Good morning,” I said. “I’m Stella, the new personal assistant.”

  “Oh yes, Andre mentioned you.” He glanced at me, then away, then back to me.

  His phone rang. “Tristan Wainwright,” he snapped into it, still looking at me. “Ah, yes, I have that right here, hang on.” His attention shifted and he appeared to be searching for information on his computer.

  I walked over to his desk and set the coffee on a coaster to his right.

  “Yes, here it is. Do you want the figures individually or as a whole?” Pause. “Okay, let’s get it done then.” He hunched over a bit more to peer closer at the screen. “You start.”

  I didn’t know if he’d noticed the coffee or not, but it was clear he was absorbed in whatever it was he was doing with the person on the other end of the line. I headed back to my desk feeling a little flat.

  I’d been looking forward to meeting my other boss. I’d heard so much about him from Andre. I couldn’t deny I was intrigued. And yes, Andre had been right when he’d said Tristan was handsome, he was, very, but also intense, consumed, entrenched in his work.

  I had plenty to be getting on with and the morning flew by. The previous PA had a strange filing system that I wanted to set to my own method plus there were lots of upcoming meetings and conferences in both Andre and Tristan’s diaries that needed attention.

  What I did notice was that Andre had been correct in saying Tristan barely got bothered by the staff. In fact, when Jenny wanted something from him she didn’t even bother knocking on his door, she just handed it to me to pass on for him.

  I wasn’t sure if it was because they were all learning my new system or if his brisk manner put them off and they were glad of a messenger.

  By lunchtime, I had several things I needed to work out with him. There were some parts of an imminent trip that I couldn’t second-guess, I needed to know what he wanted organized.

  Again I knocked on the door.

  Again he didn’t look up as I stepped in.

  “Do you have a minute?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  I pulled in a breath and beat down a wave of irritation. “Are you likely to have time today to go through details about your trip to Ireland?”

  He shoved at his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “I doubt it. I need to go next door and catch up with Andre about a few things i
n a minute.”

  “He’s in Barcelona.”

  Finally, he looked up at me. A frown slashed over his brow. “Oh … yes, of course. I thought he was late in.”

  “Well, he’d be very late, it’s nearly one o’clock.” I held up my notebook. “And talking of time, if I don’t get flights booked soon, there may not be any seats left.”

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Stella.”

  “Stella.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Okay, what do you need to know?”

  “What time on the fifteenth do you want to fly? The meeting isn’t until the evening but do you need time when you arrive to brief the contractor?”

  “Er, no, I can do that on the phone. A flight about four should be fine. Oh, and a hotel at the airport, that makes it easier for heading back the next day and if you can book a restaurant too, something bland, not Indian or Chinese.”

  “Yes.” I made quick notes.

  “And I’ll need a bottle of Moet to take to the CEO. It’s his birthday apparently.”

  “Can you get that on duty free on the way?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, good idea.” He directed his attention back at the screen.

  “And these are from Jenny. If you could get to them ASAP, she said she’d be grateful.” I set the file on the desk.

  “I’ll try.” He was typing furiously.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked, watching the way his big fingers flew over the keyboard. There was a hint of dark hair peeking from his shirt sleeve. “Any communications or routine stuff I could take off your hands?”

  “Nope.” He glanced at some documentation to his right then carried on typing.

  His phone rang.

  He tutted, then answered it.

  I left the office. Tristan Wainwright might be most girls’ ideal man to look at but he had a long way to go in the charm department. He was at best a control freak and at worst just plain rude.

  Ten minutes later I headed out of the office and picked up a mozzarella and tomato panini for my lunch. I didn’t bother asking Tristan if he wanted anything. When I got back to my desk, herbal tea brewing to accompany my food, I was delighted to find there was an email from Andre.