by Kaye Blue
Once, she thought she’d caught him looking at her, though at the exact moment they had locked eyes, he’d dropped his fork and stood, signaling break time was over.
There had been nothing uncommon about the meal. She ate dinner with Milo more days than not. He was pretty adamant about it, in fact. More than once he had chided her for skipping lunch and had ignored her attempts to skip dinner. Constance had always assumed it was because he wouldn’t be able to get work out of her if she keeled over from hunger.
But there had been something different tonight, and Constance couldn’t help but wonder, and deep down, if there was a tiny spark of hope.
That hope was why she was alone.
Just thinking of Milo made her heart thud a little harder. But wherever he was—whomever he was with—he wasn’t wasting a single moment thinking about his assistant. And he certainly wasn’t analyzing a routine business dinner for some deeper meaning.
Constance needed to stay realistic, let go of this stupid fantasy before it got out of hand, got farther out of hand.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the lit up screen.
If only Milo let her.
7 am, not a minute later.
The thrill that ran through her was involuntary, but intense, present nonetheless. How much more pathetic could she be?
Her overbearing boss was demanding even more of her time, but rather than being angry, annoyed at the intrusion, irritated at the presumptuousness, she was excited because she would get to see him again.
She was hopeless.
She stood abruptly and gathered her discarded clothes from the floor, trying to do something to push the thoughts of Milo from her head.
But that night, when she finally lay down, Milo was the only thing on her mind as she drifted to sleep.
* * *
It was one in the morning, and Milo couldn’t sleep.
He was too wound up, still thinking about Constance. That text message had been a moment of weakness, one that he didn’t like, but he didn’t regret it.
Even the shallow electronic communication was better than nothing.
Now, hours later, what could he do? The message had calmed him momentarily, reminded him that he would see her again in a few short hours.
But as time passed, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking, wondering what she was doing, hopeful that she was alone.
Wishing he was with her.
His hard-on was back, more insistent than ever. Not that it really went away, not when he thought he could still smell Constance’s sweet scent, could so easily visualize the look of pure bliss on her face as she had taken her first bite of dinner.
He could hardly remember what they’d had, because he’d been too busy staring at her, imagining being the one who put that expression on her face, knowing the whole time that it could never happen.
Constance had never shown any sign that suggested she thought of him as anything other than her employer. And even if she did, she was nice, a good girl who deserved a white picket fence and babies and love. He could give her the fence, give her the babies, but he was not a man who could fill her life with the love she deserved.
Too bad his cock had different ideas.
Because when he thought of that, building a home, a life, with Constance at his side, he got hard enough to hammer steel.
Years ago, he’d tried to find physical release elsewhere, certain that whatever was happening was simply a matter of not having an outlet.
It hadn’t worked.
No one would do but Constance.
And he couldn’t have Constance. So he was stuck, living in this tortured existence where the only thing he wanted was the one thing he couldn’t have.
He’d just have to make do with the long working days, and hope it was enough to tame the relentless hunger for her that grew every day.
Four
Constance tried to stifle a yawn, but it came out anyway, and ended with the most unladylike full-body stretch.
Barely noon and she was hardly able to keep her eyes open.
It had been a long, restless night, one where she shifted between dreaming about Milo, wishing he was in her bed and then chastising herself for it, reminding herself that she needed to get the stupid idea out of her head and keep it out.
She’d finally fallen into a restless sleep when she reminded herself that she’d see Milo in the morning, and spend a long while with him. He didn’t text her like that unless he intended a full day. That thought alone was enough to get her out of bed and headed to the office mere hours after she’d left.
He’d stayed for all of fifteen minutes and been out of the office by 7:15.
She’d arrived on time, 6:58, to be exact, and after a brief conversation that was over before it had really started, he had donned his suit jacket and told her to forward any important calls to his cell.
And then he had been gone.
She scolded herself again for the undeniable excitement at seeing him, hopeful that this would once and for all remind her that she was simply an employee, and that lusting after him would only embarrass her.
“Delivery,” Pete, the mailroom clerk, said as he pushed his cart through the double doors that led to the CEO suite.
She smiled as Pete approached and stood to take the stack of letters from his hand.
Pete’s smile dropped as he looked at Constance, no doubt noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “You taking care, Connie?”
“I am, Pete. How’s Martha?” she asked.
“She’s good. Told me to tell her Connie to call sometimes.”
“I will,” Constance replied.
She never let anyone call her Connie, but Pete was nearly seventy and reminded her of her own grandfather, one of the only people she made an exception for.
She gave him a smile, hoping it conveyed energy she didn’t feel. Pete looked at her warily and then nodded.
“Take care. And don’t work too hard,” he said, waving as he went on his way.
“You too, Pete,” she said.
He pushed the cart away and Constance began to flip through the mail. She sorted those that required Milo’s direct attention and those that she could handle herself, and then headed into Milo’s office.
It was spacious, and together with the outside seating area, took up almost half of the building’s top floor.
Constance paused, taking in the sweeping city view, and then looked at the familiar surroundings, realized how she had spent more time here than she had in the house that she loved so much.
The thought was exhilarating because many of those hours had been in Milo’s company, listening to his warm, magnetic voice, soaking up his essence.
The thought was equally crushing because that time was only a reminder that she had nothing but memories to show for it.
She sighed as she began flipping through the envelopes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Constance,” she muttered under her breath. “You just need a good fuck to get yourself back on track.”
“Is that an offer, Constance?”
Five
Milo didn’t know what had driven him to say those words, but he wouldn’t take them back. If she reacted poorly, he would lose more than the best assistant he ever had.
But if she didn’t…
He stared at her, her curvy form enticing, her hourglass shape one that was perfection in Milo’s eyes, distracting him. Not fully, but enough that his ever present hard-on became more insistent, the tension of that desire and the question of how she would respond giving the moment a weight and intensity that Milo hadn’t expected.
When he’d seen her this morning, impeccable as always, if not a little tired around the eyes, he’d wanted to go to her, sweep her away so that she could rest before he fucked them both back to exhaustion, which was the reason he had left so abruptly.
He hadn’t trusted himself to maintain the lines and boundaries that separated them, and now he was proving how right he had been.
Constance turned, looked at him with a stricken expression on her face. His first instinct was to try to soothe that worry away, not wanting to see her in distress for a single moment. But he stood in place, watching her.
She stood there stunned, and as the seconds passed, Milo began to worry. The panic on her face alarmed him, and he took two steps as she did the same, bringing them so close that they were no more than a breath apart.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, the reserve and control that he always associated with her nowhere to be seen. “Milo, I’m so… I…”
She trailed off, the fear on her face intensifying.
“Calm down, Constance,” he said, unable to watch her like this for a moment longer.
His words did not have his intended effect.
Instead, she looked even more worried, and on instinct Milo reached for her chin, held her head steady as he stared into her eyes.
“Answer the question, Constance,” he pressed, sensing that he couldn’t let this moment pass.
“Milo, you weren’t supposed to hear—”
“What’s your answer?”
He cut her off, and then released her chin and smoothed his thumb over her furrowed brow as she examined him.
“You didn’t mean… You weren’t asking…?”
“I didn’t mince my words, did I? You heard the question, so answer it. Was that an offer?”
“For you to…?” she asked, her lids fluttering, her tongue peeking out nervously to brush her lush lips.
“Fuck you, Constance,” he said, supplying the words she seemed unable to say.
If he had any common sense, half a brain, he wouldn’t have said them either, but reason had long since fled. He’d built his fortune by acting on instinct, and everything in his mind and body was telling him now was the time to act.
He couldn’t let this pass, pretend like he hadn’t heard her, because he knew that would be the end. He couldn’t count on this kind of opportunity coming again, and he wouldn’t be foolish enough to squander it.
He just hoped Constance felt the same way.
She watched him, lids still fluttering, though she looked less terrified than she had mere seconds ago. And as even more moments passed, each tense, tight with the weight of Constance’s thoughts, he watched that expression change.
Incrementally, her face went from frightened, to slightly less so, and in the next blink he could see her desire. It flashed like a beacon, one whose call he would answer.
He moved forward slowly, bringing their faces closer and closer together with each tiny movement. Anticipation had him near breathless, but he balled his hands into fists and fought for his control. The first time he tasted her mouth, he wouldn’t be in a frenzy, wouldn’t do anything but enjoy it.
And when he pressed his lips against the soft petals of her skin, he was like a man possessed.
Constance was sweeter than any woman he’d ever tasted, and as he kissed her, all the years of pent-up desire came rushing out.
Somehow managing to keep himself under control, he opened the buttons on her blouse, his first glimpse of her full breasts and bra turning his cock to stone. He paused for just a moment and kissed her, letting his tongue snake between the full mounds of her breasts.
He went lower, lifting her breasts from her bra. Then he brushed his tongue over the hard bud of her nipple and sucked it hard, tasting the sweet hard nub. He worked her skirt up her soft, creamy thighs, the relief at knowing he would soon be inside her making him movements clumsy.
He reached into his pocket but then froze when a startling realization came over him.
Six
Fuck.
He didn’t have a condom.
He almost lost it when he looked at her, her lips swollen from his kisses, her dark brown nipples standing at attention from where he’d twisted and sucked them, her eyes begging for more.
And wanted to give her just that. Nothing would be better than feeling her silken walls milking his cock until he emptied all he had inside her.
He made a promise to himself that he would feel that, but for now…
He pushed Constance back against the desk and then worked his way down her body, pausing to suck her nipple again. Constance rewarded him with a deep, almost guttural moan that mirrored his own driving need.
His resolve not to bury himself inside her bare was shaken but when he dropped to his knees and kissed her inner thigh, thoughts of anything but tasting her left his mind.
He lifted her skirt higher, his eyes centered on her black panties, stared intently at the faint outline of her slit.
Milo breathed in deep, inhaled the intoxicating aroma of Constance.
Then he pressed his lips against that scrap of black silk. Constance hitched, her hands flying to his shoulders, squeezing him tight.
Though he was still clothed, he felt the heat of her hands against him, the tension in her fingers as she clung to him.
She breathed out hard, and when he brushed his tongue over her panties, she arched again, thrusting her pussy against his face.
He barked out a quick laugh, amused and so turned on to see this eager side of Constance that he hadn’t before. But the amusement was short-lived, the urge to drink from her, touch her, be with her sending his blood surging through his veins, making his heart beat wild and erratic.
He curled his fingers in the waistband of her panties and then pulled, smiling when the material gave a satisfying rip.
Constance squeaked, and he looked up at her, saw the surprise in her expression as he pulled the shredded material from her body.
But that surprise soon melted into a look of deep satisfaction when he pressed his thumb against her clit and then stroked the hard bud. Her eyes lit and she arched harder, rocking into his finger.
Milo watched her, pure satisfaction racing through him as beautiful, writhing Constance sought pleasure from him, confirming that what he had suspected—and hoped for—had been right.
For years he had fantasized about this moment, imagined seeing Constance deep in the grip of passion that he was creating.
It was everything he had imagined.
More.
More. He needed more. He moved his thumb away and covered that spot with his tongue, swiping it across her hard button.
Constance’s sharp breath that melted into a sigh told him to do it again, so he did, then dropped lower, letting his tongue lave the wet, tender flesh of her pussy.
She was soaking wet, her juices coating her, and Milo lapped at her greedily, trying to collect every drop of her.
Then he held his tongue rigid, pushed it inside her and pulled out quickly, simulating the way he would take her with his fingers and then his cock.
She had tightened her hands on his shoulders and bucked against him wildly, smashing her pussy into his face unabashedly.
Milo locked his arms around her hips and held her, stabbing his tongue in and out and sucking on her clit.
“Milo!” Constance called.
Her voice was needy, breathless, and when he closed his teeth around her clit she exploded. Her slit, which was already drenched, got even wetter, her body tight as she came on his tongue.
Milo was hard, throbbing, but he could think of nothing more satisfying than being with Constance like this, holding her as she came down from her climax.
He licked the inside of her thigh, letting his lips linger in the warm, soft skin there and then he pulled back.
Constance slumped and then looked at him, her pupils wide and dilated, her lips still swollen, her expression one of bliss. Milo lifted her and then walked her to the small loveseat in the corner of his office.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said, and then he kissed her gently.
After a lingering stare, he went to the attached bath and wiped his face, sad to lose Constance’s essence, but knowing he would still taste her for hours to come.
He made his way back to her and pulled her onto her feet. She sighed, but stood, blinking
as he pulled her skirt down and settled it in place, and then he adjusted her blouse and jacket.
Then, he brushed his lips against hers. “I wish I could stay…” he said.
Constance blinked and then nodded. “You have a one o’clock. I’ll prepare your files,” she said, sounding like herself, no real hint that she had just been tongue-fucked on his desk.
Constance retreated, walking steadily by the time she reached his door.
Milo wished he had even a fraction of her calm.
More than anything he wanted to slam himself inside her.
Later, he decided.
He smiled slowly, anticipating what was to come.
Seven
Constance thought her heart would beat out of her chest.
She also thought she should go back into the office and beg Milo to finish what he’d started.
She couldn’t just stand there, teetering on the edge, so after she gathered the notes Milo needed, she retired to the restroom on the opposite corner of the floor, suspecting he wouldn’t come and find her.
Not that she wanted to hide.
In fact, she wanted nothing more than to see him. But she knew that the way she was now, so needy, so desperate, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. So she waited, trying to gather herself but still desperately longing for him.
It was almost hard to believe that it had happened, but the way she felt, charged, alive, made it impossible to deny.
So did the slick wetness between her thighs, the way her pussy throbbed, the way her body was so satisfied yet unfulfilled.
In all of her fantasies she had never imagined that, Milo’s tongue on her, bringing her to the heights of ecstasy.
She’d also never imagined that he’d kiss her so passionately, and yet so tenderly.
So much of him was roughness, hard and unyielding in a way that Constance found impossible to resist. She’d never really thought of him in another way, demanding yet still tender.
