12 Days

by Dark Angel

  I start to feel a little self-conscious just sitting there. My people-watching is interrupted when I notice the man standing just in front of me.

  "Now tell me, is it Miss or Mrs. Morrow?"

  "Miss." I clear my throat and start over. "Hello, I’m Miss Alyssa Morrow."

  "Hello, Alyssa,” he says smoothly, and his voice sends a little thrill through my body. “I’m Owen, one of the board members here at True Love. If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you back to meet with the others."

  I lick my lips nervously. Owen’s extremely attractive. I can tell that he has a great body under that expensive suit he’s wearing, the cut of it tight enough to just hint at his great ass as well.

  "Lead the way." Because I will follow you anywhere. Oh my God, focus, Alyssa, focus!

  As we walk deeper into the building, I notice that many of the work stations are the new standing desks that seem to be all the rage among office workers my age now. Unlike the ones that I’m used to seeing that have an open structure underneath to allow for air flow and give a minimalist impression, though, these are closed in from the work surface to the base.

  This style kind of makes it look like the people are working in front of open cabinets. I can’t imagine what the appeal of this was.

  Regardless of how ugly the desks are, the people working at them more than make up for it. It seriously looks like they hired all of these people from a modeling agency. It’s a bit demoralizing seeing all these gorgeous people around.

  Following Owen, it hits me suddenly. The guard, the desks, the models they have working here: it's all just an intimidation tactic. So far, everything I’ve seen of this company is either big or beautiful. If we’re taking the building design and architecture into account, it’s obvious that those two aspects are the major consideration for its construction.

  I’m actually fucking fuming at this place now. True Love, my ass. I can't wait to get in there and tell these smug sons-of-bitches just what I think about them.

  I take some deep breaths to calm myself. I'm not even totally sure why I’m so mad at them. I’ve heard the rumors about the company, about their questionable practices and what people say after using their products. I can't stand a company that takes advantage of their consumers.

  "It's right through here," Owen says as he opens a door for me. He’s been in front of me the whole time, and hopefully missed the assortment of faces I’m sure I was wearing as I went through my little internal emotional tantrum.

  But now that I’m here, I’m ready to let all these thoughts out. And they’ll listen to me. I will make them hear me.

  I storm past him into the board room, leaving Owen and his curious smirk to follow behind. I’m a woman with purpose.

  The board room is enormous. There’s a giant table in the middle of the room with twelve seats, eleven of which are occupied by men just as handsome as Owen, who I’m assuming the twelfth chair belongs to.

  Owen himself walks to the side of the room, regarding me as he casually crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

  I remind myself that I’m a woman on a mission. I’m a woman with a voice. I will be heard.

  I’m a woman...who is being completely ignored.

  Owen is still the only one in the room who’s so much as glanced in my direction. The rest of them are all deeply engaged in a discussion. Even the ones who are almost facing me seem not to have noticed that I’m standing right here.

  I wait for an appropriate amount of time, starting out by looking at each of the eleven, then glaring at them.

  Owen, on the other hand, I avoid making eye contact with altogether. I can tell he’s just standing there, staring at me. It would normally make me uncomfortable, except that with the other eleven ignoring me, I’m starting to worry that they can’t even see me at all, that I’ve somehow become invisible or ceased to exist. Owen is at least confirmation that I can be seen.

  I start counting Mississippi’s, clearing my throat at every ten. After the sixth throat clearing, I finally look at Owen with a somewhat pleading expression, silently asking what the fuck is up with this. But Owen just continues to stare at me as if he’s wondering how much of this I’ll take. As if he’s defying me to crack under the weight of the awkwardness.

  It’s his expression that finally cinches it. I’m sick and tired of these corporate types that don’t care about anyone or anything other than the bottom line; ones who will gladly tread over their own grandmother’s grave just to save a nickel. I’m at my wit’s end with them, and they’re about to get a piece of my mind.

  "ENOUGH!" Everyone in the room stops and turns to stare at me. "You all need to listen to me, right now." Their gorgeous eyes look right through me. "I need you all to know something. And I have some questions."

  Their gaze disarms me. The steam that was building up within me a minute ago is suddenly gone in one breath.

  One of the eleven asks me, "Yes? What questions?"

  I can't even respond to him. I know I was about to say something, but I don’t quite know what. And now that I’ve gotten everyone's attention, my mind has gone blank.

  I’m just as surprised as everyone else in the room. Until I realize it isn’t surprise I’m seeing on their faces. No, it’s exasperation, and it floors me.

  One of the eleven finally speaks up.

  "Listen, Miss..." He looks over at Owen.

  "Morrow. Alyssa Morrow."

  "Listen, Alyssa, we’re in the middle of a meeting here. Maybe Owen would be so kind as to escort you to the waiting room next door. When we’re done with our meeting, we will answer any and all of your questions. How does that sound?"

  I wordlessly nod in agreement. Owen opens the door for me, and I follow him to the waiting room, trying to sink within myself. This isn’t going at all as I planned. So much for being in charge here. It looks like these twelve men will be the ones calling the shots.

  I’m so overwhelmed by these men. They’re so dominating, so controlling. I should hate it. I do hate it. Right?

  Yes, I hate that. But I’m also feeling this unfamiliar draw to them. I don’t understand it. I have to get control of myself.

  Owen leaves without a word, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen next.

  Chapter 2

  Alyssa

  Fuck. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why didn’t I...how did I slip up like this? I lost every bit of impact I was aiming for in that fucking board room.

  You only get one first impression. You mess that up, and they’re all going to think you’re this dumb bitch that doesn’t know what she’s doing. Shit. Maybe I am. God, I can’t lose this contract.

  These guys are so sneaky and there’s something so off about them. But damn, they’re beautiful.

  Wait. I can’t say that. I can’t even think that.

  I can’t show them any weakness. I just know they’ll take advantage of me…and fuck, would I like that way too much. No. Alyssa. Get yourself together.

  I sink into the cool leather couch and take a deep breath. I shake my head in disbelief at my lackluster first move against these sharks. I put my hands over my face and just close my eyes and attempt to relax.

  I take a deep breath. As I feel my chest rise, I scrunch my shoulders up to my neck. When I exhale, I relax my shoulders and my arms. My chest loosens, and calmness spread all over me from my head to my feet.

  I hear distant chatter from the men, some chuckles.

  Instantly, I roll my eyes and adjust myself on the couch. As I shimmy my hips against the couch, my panties brush slightly against my clit, and a spark runs through my body.

  This isn’t a normal thing for me. Usually, if I get in the mood, it’s...provoked. It’s intentional. But this...accident...has me curious.

  In an attempt to ignore my sudden arousal, I ask myself what brought me to the waiting room. Why didn’t I stand up and fight my way into being heard? I try to rationalize everything that I just experienced. I was nothing bu
t an assertive personality in there, or I thought I was going to be.

  I get to thinking about the group I addressed just moments ago, but much to my own surprise, not from a business objective. I realize how much care they put into their appearances. Everyone is so well groomed and so...dazzling.

  Some of them have piercing eyes, daring smiles, and dimpled cheeks just slightly disguised by a trimmed beard. Their tailored suits cater to their build and their aesthetics. That room was practically oozing with sexual tension; I’m sure seeing a little slice like me walking in, trying to be commanding, must have piqued some of their interests.

  I recall the one on the far left staring at me, but not because of what I said. He was looking at me like I was a piece of ass. If he wasn’t so beautiful, I might not have noticed him, but I definitely couldn’t help but stare out of the corner of my eye back at him.

  The guy at the head of the table was also gorgeous, but in a completely different way. Fuck, what am I saying? There’s no need to cherry pick them; they’re all incredibly attractive. I’m thrown off so hard, and I can’t believe it.

  I squeeze my legs together, forcing myself to be more comfortable and less horny. But it’s just not helping. My thighs are starting to feel warm and my pussy is radiating with heat at the thought of having all of them for myself.

  I can’t shake this, and I need to get it out of my system before I go back in there. I just have to deal with this now.

  I take a peek around the room, glancing up into the corners and scanning the ceiling for any cameras. Rubbing my thighs back and forth against each other, I’m inadvertently teasing my clit again with my satin panties.

  I don’t see anything around and there are no other people in here. The door has a code; if anyone were to come in, I’d absolutely be able to just quickly compose myself.

  I don’t know why I need this so badly, but something about them just really got me going. I think I might understand what hate sex is now. I detest them so much, and all that passion needs an outlet.

  I mean do you get what I’m saying? Like there’s something so hot about that. Anyways…

  I exhale and let my head fall against the back of the couch. My heart beat increases as my hand creeps down to my thighs. I scrape my nails against them and throw my feet against the coffee table, propping my legs up and apart. My skirt hikes up to reveal my red satin panties.

  I tease my clit, grazing my fingernail in circles over it through the fabric of my undies. I let my hips rock back and forth over it, just humping the air, enjoying the tingling, tickling sensation. The room is silent, and I’m suddenly taken to a dreamy fantasy world.

  I run my fingers through one man’s hair as he licks up my bare collarbone. My head is thrown back and I’m tilting to the side as another is on my neck, covering it in sweet, sensual kisses. I moan gently.

  I breathe in again and feel another set of hands wrapping around my waist, and I feel several other hands just caressing the rest of my body. My eyes are closed, enjoying the affection. I start making out with another man. I don’t even know who it is, but he’s making me feel so damn good.

  His lips are plump, and he pushes his lips in between mine, offering sloppy, sexy kisses while I breathe in his intoxicating scent. Images of all twelve of their charming faces flash through my head all at once as I’m sucked into an overwhelming desire for them all.

  Drifting into near unconsciousness, I slide my hand into my underwear, allowing my fingers to make direct contact with my clit. I dip my fingers down to my pussy lips for a moment and bring them back up, making slippery, delightful circles on my clit.

  I quietly moan to myself. My other hand starts mimicking some of the touches I’m imagining being done to me. Fingers alternate between softly caressing and tightly gripping my waist, then my legs and my inner thighs, moving up to my tits and shoulders.

  I can feel them wanting me so badly. I spread my legs out, inviting one of the faces down into my crotch. He happily begins lapping at my pussy lips and teasing them. As his tongue graces my pussy, I feel hands up in my hair, breath on my neck, and fingers traveling in circles against my nipples.

  Some of them are massaging my calves and feet, while others are admiring my curves, tracing my waist and my hips with their hands pressed into my body. With so many of them, it’s so easy to get lost in the barrage of sensations. My head is leaning back, and my mouth is open, moaning at the sexy as sin guy making out with my pussy.

  I take my hand and press his face against me, grinding my hips against his mouth. More hands tighten their grip against my hip bones and I feel them move as I hump his face. He drags his fingers, or somebody does, down my back and I arch it, pushing my pussy further into his face.

  I open my eyes briefly to a white ceiling. My face is glistening with sweat and my hairline is just slightly damp. I take my free hand and run it through my hair. I glance around for a moment before feeling my pussy twitch, beckoning for more attention.

  I flex my hips up, certain that my panties are drenched with my wetness. My free hand grabs my plump, perky breasts and pulls them out of my top, revealing my rock hard nipples.

  I move my hand out of my panties and start groping my bare tits, out for the world to see, wishing one of them—or better yet, all of them—were here to give me a hand. Focusing on that thought, one hand drifts back down and teases my pussy lips as I drift off again.

  I close my eyes again to see bare chests and defined arms all around me. My fingers plunge into me as I imagine a thick, hard cock sliding into my slippery little slut hole. I cry out in pleasure as he humps at my pussy, our skin touching as he inserts himself fully.

  The tip of his cock is right at my cervix and I feel my legs lifted by other arms, letting him slam into me harder. I’m lifted into the air by several of them as one of them fucks me with all he has, just relentlessly pounding into my pussy. I ache and throb at each thrust, just continuously begging for more—harder, faster fucking.

  Each plea is granted, and I’m fucked hard and fast by several men taking their turn and share of my cunt. I’m fucked hard enough that my head starts to spin. Thinking about sharing my little hole with all of them in the same setting really has me going.

  I flash my thoughts back into my heated little scene. As I’m being fucked, one guy comes down to my ass, spreads my cheeks and forces his tongue against my asshole.

  Holy fuck. Having them all on me, feeling me up, holding me down, pleasing me in every way possible...I don’t know how to handle all of it.

  Every touch, every breath, every thrust sends me further into a heightened sense of pleasure. I’m flying on the feeling of being a fuck toy for all of them and I can’t help but squeal every time I picture a new cock entering my pussy.

  My hand is completely covered, saturated in my own sticky juices while I’m entertaining the idea of a gangbang in my head. As I shove my fingers in and out of my pussy and gyrate my hips, forcing myself onto my fingers as hard as I can, I feel myself growing tense. I’m full of passion and pleasure and I’m on the verge of spilling over.

  I open my eyes and stare in front of myself. I see my legs spread wide open, my cunt exposed to the empty room.

  There’s a small puddle of my pussy’s nectar under me, and my tits are bouncing about as I finger myself intensely to the thought of being pleased by a boardroom full of young, attractive men with perfect, gigantic cocks.

  Suddenly, I remember I’m in a waiting room. I’m adjacent to the men I’m fantasizing about. If they came in right now, they’d see me like this, splayed out and ready to fuck. That thought alone is fucking thrilling and so, so tempting. The vision and the sensations of their touches just feels so real for me.

  I look into the mirror straight ahead. It’s almost like I wish they could see me. I imagine them taking their cocks out and coming all over my while I finger fuck myself.

  Looking in the mirror, I see a slut in front of me and I fucking love it. I don’t know where all this is co
ming from, this isn’t like me, but I can’t get enough. I don’t want this feeling to end. I’ve never been one for anything crazy, and feeling the potential of a wild, passionate sex scene starring yours truly feels so wrong, but in such a fucking perfect way.

  After I’ve captured a good image of the girl staring back at me, I smile and force my head up and almost scream out with pleasure.

  I cry and pant as I’m enraptured in a warm, tingling sensation that pulses through my body from head to toe. All my muscles tense, and in slow succession, they relax as I gush cum all over this expensive leather couch and squirt onto the coffee table in front of me.

  I throw my arms onto the back of the couch, arch my back, and throw my legs into the air, panting hard as my pussy explodes onto the furniture. As the rush of my climax fades, I lower my feet to the floor. I prop myself up onto the cum-covered couch and slowly lift my entire body up.

  I stand still for a moment, composing myself and processing what I just did and why. As I calm down and let the reality of it all set in, I decide to grab a pack of travel wipes from my purse and do my best to clean up the...evidence? I wipe myself off, wipe the couch down, and oh, right, the coffee table too.

  Holy shit. I just masturbated to thoughts of the twelve men I’m conspiring against.

  What the fuck is going on with me?

  I finish wiping everything off and I watch as the wetness from the furniture slowly dissipates. I turn back to the mirror and start fixing my hair, which is a fucking wreck. I step up to the mirror closely, and I can hear just a faint conversation.

  Is it the TV? Okay, no, it’s on mute and there’s captions. Is it people talking outside? I walk over to the door and crack it open. Nothing. This is puzzling.

  I shake it off and walk back to the mirror. They should be calling me back any moment if I’m guessing correctly, and I can’t be off my game.

  As I’m teasing my hair with my fingers, I notice a black speck on the mirror in front of my face. I go to wipe it away with my finger and notice something odd about my reflection. My fingertip is reflecting an overlap—there’s no gap between my fingernail and the reflection at all.