Dirty Little Quickies

by Shanora Williams

  Michaela’s phone rang, interrupting her pointless chat about a boutique she went to at Laguna Beach, and as she dug through her purse for her phone, Jude’s eyes slid over to mine. Those icy blue irises turned a shade darker, his tongue skimming over his bottom lip.

  I looked away before I could get sucked in.

  He was with Michaela. His family didn’t know about us, and with the way he explained his and Michaela’s situation, I knew it needed to stay that way.

  His family didn’t know about the many women he boned, most of them commoners like me, not filthy rich women who came from rich bloodlines. I bet if they’d known, they would have flipped a wig.

  I’d met his parents once, during the Christmas gala in Seattle last year. Jude was their precious baby boy—the baby of the family and their only son. He deserved the very best and nothing less. He invited me to attend last year and I couldn’t pass it up. He’d booked a flight for me and everything.

  Crap, speaking of, it was that time again. It was December 10th. The gala was on the 20th and deep down I hoped he would invite me again.

  Back before our arrangement started, we had an electric connection—one that could be felt as soon as we stepped foot into the same room. He’d held off for a while, to my surprise, but he had no problem flirting with me. I’d even caught him staring at my boobs and ass on more than one occasion.

  If he weren’t so damn hot, and I wasn’t so attracted to him, I would have considered him a pervert back then.

  Michaela stood from her chair after her call and Jude dragged his eyes back over to her. “I have to meet with Megan. We’re doing a little more Christmas shopping for the family,” I heard her say. “Plus, I need a dress to wear to the gala. I’m assuming I’ll be your date?” She smiled at him.

  Jude kept a straight face. “I always attend the gala’s single,” he said, and I saw the smile slip right off her face. I smashed my lips together, fighting a laugh. He stood as she stepped away. “I’ll see you there, I’m sure.”

  She was upset, her eyebrows strewn together, her grip tight around her cellphone. “If you bring another woman and flaunt her in my face, Jude, I swear I will never speak to you again,” she whisper-hissed. Her head jerked sideways, her face turning in my direction, but I dropped my head, pretending to focus on the paper on my desk instead. “I know you’re fucking someone else,” she said in a lower town. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Even if that were true, it isn’t like I’m not allowed to. We aren’t in a relationship, Michaela. My parents arranged this…whatever the hell this is. We have our lunch dates and dinner dates with my parents, but I only do it to please them. Don’t take this for more than what it is.”

  She scowled. “Oh, don’t even try it, Jude. You know that without marrying me, your business will tank. Your family wants good graces with my dad to keep your family business afloat and they aren’t going to let you ruin that for them. You always do what they say, so whatever. Keep up the charade,” she whisper-hissed. “You and I both know that when the time comes, you’ll be standing there waiting for me at the altar.”

  My chest felt tighter when I heard her last sentence. I couldn’t help the frown that creased my forehead. They were getting married? God, no. When?

  I didn’t look up as I heard Michaela’s heels click-clack on the marble floor. The elevator dinged when the doors drew open and she stepped into it. When I heard the doors close, I let out a big breath.

  I looked up at Jude, but he was already watching me.

  His eyes immediately dropped, sliding down to the floor.

  He walked around his desk to get to the door, and when he shut it, I was sure a splinter had pricked my heart.

  FIVE

  JENNA

  It was Friday and Jude hadn’t touched me since Monday morning, when I overheard him and Michaela’s conversation about the arranged marriage. I couldn’t believe it, and yet I couldn’t even complain to him about it because I had no right. He wasn’t mine.

  He looked at me—no, more like stared—but he didn’t touch. I couldn’t blame him for the ogling. Though I was bothered and curious, the outfits I wore to work were anything but conservative. I wanted him to touch me. To tease me—to do anything to me. I was tired of waiting for Sundays to arrive.

  I decided to work late that Friday and catch up on a few things so I wouldn't have to come in early the next day. Though Jude was always on my mind, I had to find a way to distract myself from him somehow, so when the time came that he was married to Michaela, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken and would actually have someone to fall back on.

  I’d downloaded a few dating apps on my cellphone a while back to see if it would occupy me and it did, for the most part.

  Most of the men were very strange. Most were pervs who only wanted to see my boobs. Some even asked for vagina pictures. It was gross, and just as I was about to ditch the apps and return back to my normal Jude-obsessed life, I got an interesting notification on Tuesday. It was a message from a really handsome guy.

  I knew not to just look at the surface, but to dig deeper. We messaged throughout the week, chatted often, and he seemed very nice. He’d even sent images of himself while working, just to prove he was real.

  His name was Tyler and he wanted to meet Friday night, and since it was a public place and I had nothing to hide, I was down for it. But to be safe, I told my best friend, Carrie, to tag along and to bring her boyfriend for backup. He wanted to meet at a bar and grill where they would be having taco and tequila night, which sounded like it was exactly what I needed.

  If we were going to be drinking tequila, I didn't want to have to come strolling into work earlier than I needed to with the possibility of a hangover. It was best to finish everything I had to do now so I could clock in late. Fortunately, Mr. Clement didn’t mind me coming in later on Saturdays. He was usually out of the office anyway.

  Excited for the night to begin, I finished organizing the folders for Mr. Clement and then I checked my cell for the time. It was nearing 6:00 p.m. My date was at 8:00 p.m.

  Before I could take the folders to the filing cabinet, Jude's office door swung open and he stepped out with his fingertips buried in his front pockets.

  "Come into my office before you go, Miss Taylor," he said, turning his back before I could even respond or tell him I was in a hurry and had somewhere to be.

  With a heavy sigh, I put the folders down and walked into his office. He was standing in front of the wide floor-to-ceiling window now, where a view of the ocean wasn't too far off.

  "You've been smiling at your phone all week," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, so?" I frowned a little.

  "Who have you been talking to?"

  "A friend?"

  "What friend?"

  "A guy," I said, realizing this was my chance to rub it in his face. He had Michaela and I had a date. There was no rule saying I couldn't date in between my Sunday fucks. Plus, I wanted him to realize he wasn’t the only guy I talked to.

  "A guy," he repeated, turning to look at me. He scanned me with icy eyes.

  “Yes, Jude, a guy. It’s a date. Though you never arrange them with me, I’m sure you’ve heard of those.”

  He chuckled lowly, like he was truly amused by this. "This...guy..." He pointed a finger at me, stepping closer. "Does he know you’re getting fucked by your boss every Sunday?"

  My heart stumbled over the next beat, surprised by his sentence that was so lax, but still packed one hell of a punch.

  "No, of course not," I answered quickly, as not to seem too dumbfounded.

  "Of course, he doesn't," Jude mumbled, coming closer. The gap between us was closing and my breath became sticky in my lungs. When Jude was right in front of me, I noticed how serious his eyes were, how he seemed slightly agitated with me but was trying to keep his cool all at once.

  "Does he know that when I eat your pussy, I sometimes slide a finger in your ass and it makes you come in a matter of se
conds?"

  "Jude," I warned as his chest bumped against mine.

  "Does he?" he asked with soft demand.

  "No. I just met him, Mr. Clement," I whispered, taking a small step back.

  Jude tilted his head to look me over again. Then he bumped against me until my back was against the wall and his hand was on my shoulder.

  "Don’t ‘Mr. Clement’ me. I'm tired of this fucking game. Get on your knees," he growled, and I slowly sank into a squat, leaning forward and letting my knees hit the marble. While I did, Jude unbuckled his belt and then undid his pants.

  I looked down, swallowing. He was hard. So hard. He pulled his thick, beautiful cock out and I looked up, meeting blue eyes.

  "Open your mouth," he commanded, and as badly as I wanted to tell him no, I couldn't. I wanted to taste him. I'd wanted him all week long. Plus, when it came down to this—to having any kind of sex with him—I always obeyed. I submitted. God, I loved to submit and he most definitely loved to control.

  I dropped my chin and before I could get comfortable, Jude shoved himself into my mouth, groaning ravenously when the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I couldn't help but gag around him as he planted his palms on the wall inches above his head, and started a hard, quick thrust into my mouth.

  "You can go on your little date, Jenna," Jude groaned. "But just remember that your pussy—this mouth—is mine. All mine." He thrust again, and my eyes watered, but I relaxed my throat and let him fuck my mouth. I realized this wasn’t to please me. It was to please him. I had no idea why, but I wanted to finish the job.

  "Shit," he sighed, driving in again. "Look up at me," he ordered.

  I looked up and his eyes flamed blue.

  "You'll see him," he murmured, dropping a hand and stroking my hair back, "but you'll only be thinking about me. He'll try to take what's mine...but you won't let him. Will you?"

  I shook my head.

  His nostrils flared when I swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock. He pulled out, showing off his hard, full length, and then shoved himself back in again, grabbing my head with both hands and fucking my mouth faster. The tears tipped over. I could feel them running down my cheeks—could hear myself gagging around him, but I loved this. No, wait. I hated it. Shit, I didn’t know what I liked. Who was he to get upset about my date when he was tied up with Michaela? Even with these thoughts, I still didn’t want to stop pleasing him.

  "I know you won't let him...because he isn't me." He looked down again. "Fuck, look how sexy you look with my cock in your mouth." He stiffened then, watching my eyes for a brief moment before focusing on the lips sealed around his cock. "Shit, Jenna. I'm about to come."

  With those words in the air, Jude stilled and unleashed a hard, course moan, coming in a matter of seconds. He filled my mouth, and I swallowed it all down like it was my favorite drink.

  He pulled out after releasing a long sigh, jolting as I pushed forward on my knees and licked him clean.

  "Damn, Jenna," he breathed. He stepped back and then reached down to grab my hand, bringing me to a stand. After a brief silence, he asked, "Are you going to fuck him?"

  I watched his eyes, watched the curiosity burn deep in them. He really wanted to know.

  "Why do you care? We only fuck, right?" I snapped at him, fixing my skirt and blouse, using the back of my hand to wipe the wetness off my mouth. “At least, that’s what you always tell me.”

  He hesitated, lowering his gaze as I swiped the dampness beneath my eyes away.

  “You’re right.” Stepping back, he fixed his pants and then shoved his fingers through his hair before giving me his back. "I will see you tomorrow, Miss Taylor.”

  When he said that, I swear my heart almost failed me. I was hoping he'd prove me wrong—tell me I meant more to him than just a fuck—but it was obvious I didn't mean much to him at all.

  I was just his secret Sunday fuck.

  I turned and stormed out of his office without so much as a goodbye. After practically shoving the folders into the filing cabinet, I gathered my handbag and keys and headed for the elevator.

  I boarded and before the doors drew to a close, I saw Jude standing in front of the window again, staring out of it. When the elevator chimed and the doors started to close, he looked over his shoulder and found my eyes.

  And maybe I was crazy, still so goddamn delusional, but I saw something in them.

  Something that both intrigued and confused me.

  Disappointment.

  SIX

  JENNA

  “Oh, come on, Jenna! You can’t do this! You can’t let that jerk win!” Carrie threw her hands in the air with exasperation. She was fully dressed when I got home, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled up into a tight, smooth bun and her makeup practically flawless.

  As soon as I walked into the apartment, I yelled dramatically that I wasn’t going on the date. She rushed out of the bathroom demanding to know why, so I told her.

  I told her it was because Jude was right. I wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about him and this date wasn’t even going to compare to Sundays.

  Carrie wasn’t having it. She hadn’t had a night off in weeks, so she wanted this night out. She worked hard as manager of one of the hottest lounges in Malibu that she didn’t have the time to do much else. She had a day and night schedule. She hardly even had time to spend with Brad. She took this Friday off just to hang out with me and I was ruining it. I felt horrible.

  “Come on,” Carrie whined, grabbing my hand and tugging on it. “He’s your boss, Jenna. He’s not your boyfriend. You don’t owe him a damn thing. How is it you can watch him talk to that Michaela bitch, but you can’t will yourself to go out for tacos and tequila with a really hot guy? That’s, like, the perfect date.”

  She had a point. “I don’t know, Car. I just—I don’t know! He gave me a look before I left, like he would be disappointed or hurt if I did something with someone else.”

  “Well, guess what!” she snapped. “That motherfucker doesn’t own you! Outside of the office, you are Jenna fucking Taylor and you run the show. You aren’t on the clock and for God’s sake, it isn’t Sunday, so get your ass in the shower, get dressed, and let’s go get some tacos. I’m fucking starving.” She pointed at my bathroom door and I let out a small laugh. I loved her to bits and pieces. She knew just how to cheer me up and always had the perfect pep talk.

  Plus, she wasn’t the only one starving. I needed food. Stat.

  “You know what?” I stood up, going for the outfit already hanging on my closet door. “You’re right. Screw him. He’s not my Keeper. Tonight, I’m going to meet Tyler. He’s too hot to pass up.”

  Carrie winked. “That’a girl. I’m gonna finish getting ready. Let me know when you’re done showering so I can style your hair.”

  “Okay.”

  She was out of my room and walking back to hers. I went to the bathroom and started up the shower. Before I got undressed, I heard my phone chime and went for it. I thought it was going to be a text from Tyler but it wasn’t.

  It was an email from Jude.

  Subject: Tell me where you’re going

  I need to know where you’ll be. Restaurant? Bar? Where?

  Judas Clement,

  C.E.O of Clement Architecture

  I chewed on my bottom lip, debating whether to return his email or not. Why did he want to know? Seriously, it was none of his business.

  Subject: Re: Tell me where you’re going

  I’m not on the clock, Mr. Clement, therefore I don’t need to fill you in on my whereabouts right now. But just to give you a little peace of mind, it will be taco and tequila night. I’m very excited about it, too.

  Jenna Taylor

  Executive Secretary of Clement Architecture

  He responded almost immediately.

  Subject: Re: Re: Tell me where you’re going

  Well from now on, you’re always on the clock. Tell me where your date will be, Jenna. Don’t mess with me
and don’t drink too much tequila. I know how you get when you’ve had too much.

  Judas Clement

  C.E.O of Clement Architecture

  I had to laugh out loud at that one. Don’t mess with him? When he messed with my heart daily. Oh, please. I clicked away.

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Tell me where you’re going

  I know you remember how I get when I’ve had too much tequila. You called me your naughty girl because I did everything for you when I drank it on our second Sunday. Can you imagine me drinking it tonight? I wonder just how naughty I’ll get for my date…

  Unfortunately, I don’t clock in until tomorrow morning, so I won’t be filling you in about where I’m going or what I’m doing. And even at work, I won’t really have to tell you because telling you about what I do outside of office hours isn’t a part of the job. Don’t think so? Let’s take it up with HR.

  Have a good night, Mr. Clement.

  Until tomorrow morning,

  Jenna Taylor

  Executive Secretary of Clement Architecture

  I knew that was going to sting. Hell, it stung me and it wasn’t even directed toward me. But maybe he would get a taste of what I felt. Feeling lost and confused. Feeling like I wasn’t enough. Letting someone else steal the shine, when really, we were the ones who should have been put on display for the entire world to see.

  With that response, I was even more eager to get to my date. I took a shower and got dressed as quickly as I could, then called Carrie in to style my hair. When she was finished and my ensemble was complete, she stepped back and looked at me, smirking.

  “Now you are one fine-ass bitch,” she said.