by Vivien Vale
No. I can’t keep thinking about him like that. I can’t imagine what it would be like for him to have me on my back and to spread my legs, to dip his head to my pussy and lick me.
I shiver again. I’m making myself horny thinking about him like this. And I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.
Don’t fuck the CEO. Don’t fuck the CEO. Don’t fuck the CEO .
It’s my mantra for the day.
Forgetting about Wes is impossible. I’m settling into my new desk, unpacking the box I brought up from reception, but my mind is full of him. It was evident in the meeting room that he was thinking the same thing as I am.
He had an erection. He didn’t stand up when I left. And he’s way too much of a gentleman to skip proper manners. No, Wes’s dick was hard. Why do men think women won’t notice it? He wasn’t exactly tucked in beneath the table.
And if the obvious hard-on in his pants wasn’t enough, the way he looked at me said it all.
He looked at me like I was dessert. Well, I’m not exactly going to stop him if he wants to eat me.
I’m doing it again! I shake off the thoughts. I can’t think of him that way. But I really, really want to. Just thinking about him makes me wet. But that’s because he’s so out of reach. I should hate the man. So why does my body respond to him so readily?
What is it they say about forbidden fruit?
If I keep thinking about him, I’m going to drive myself crazy, and without a release that’s a bad idea. I think it’s tacky to do myself in the ladies room, so I bury myself in the mountain of work I have now.
I am a freshly appointed project manager for a new project. RidgeCo is a tech company. Their latest and greatest is wearable technology that can detect changes in the brain’s electrical activity to alert the wearer of a pending seizure. Until now, the technology that RidgeCo has produced has been a luxury only. But something like this can change everything. It would make life for sufferers easier.
Not everyone was happy when I was appointed, but Wes wanted me, and that’s all that matters.
Now that I’m on the project I have a huge amount of research to do to know exactly where RidgeCo stands in their tech development processes. I have textbooks and journals to work through. I almost feel like I’m back in college, but this time I’m getting paid for it.
I got a full scholarship for my undergrad degree but to get my MBA I had to take out a student loan. My dad left my mom when I was in high school, taking his love and most of his financial support with him when he left. Since then I’ve had to fend for myself. This promotion will allow me to pay down my student debts and help my mom be comfortable again. We’ve been living with my gran since high school, and I want to end up giving my mom a place of her own again if I can. She doesn’t deserve this life, even if she wasn’t completely innocent in the downfall of their marriage. She deserves more than the life we were left with, and me taking this job will go a long way toward making things right.
The work I’m studying up on is interesting and a lot easier to understand than I thought. I’m so engrossed that when someone touches me on my shoulder, I jump.
When I spin around, Wes looks down at me.
“Sorry,” he says, but his green eyes don’t look sorry in the least. He has a square jaw, high cheekbones and one of those dimples on his chin that make him look like Adonis. His gaze bores into mine, intense and hard.
I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his easy tone contradicting his expression. My heart slows again, and I can think straight.
Like, think about Wes and how close he’s standing to me. I can smell his cologne. I didn’t notice it this morning, but now that he’s this close it’s intoxicating.
“I was just reading up on the project,” I say.
Wes nods and looks at my books.
“Jumping right in, I see. I knew hiring you was the right choice.” He smiles at me.
I smile back at him, and it’s not even forced. His eyes slide to my lips and then my chest, and he makes no point of hiding it. Instead, his eyes find mine again and there’s something in them now that wasn’t there a moment ago. Something hungry. Something delicious.
My heart speeds up a little and an echo of my earlier lust returns. With it, my mantra.
Don’t fuck the CEO, don’t fuck the CEO.
I’m proud of myself. If I can just keep reminding myself of all the reasons why I need to be here. Why I can’t risk losing this job.
“How is it coming along?” he asks.
I nod, looking back at the book I’m working through. “Good, so far. I think I understand the technology.”
He smiles at me again, this time with obvious intent.
“An intelligent woman is attractive.”
I fight a blush. I don’t want to seem like one of those women that can’t handle a compliment. What’s wrong with me? My cheeks burn, anyway, and Wes’s eyes twinkle.
“I want to meet with you to discuss the project,” Wes says. “I’ll be mentoring you on this one, and I think we should get a start on that.”
I nod. “Tomorrow?” I ask.
Wes shakes his head. “I have to shoot out to meet potential clients tomorrow. I’ll be out the entire day. But come to my office on Wednesday.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“Come to my office on Wednesday. We can discuss your plans for this.”
“Alone?” I ask, and the word slips out before I can stop myself. My cheeks flame up again, and I feel like an idiot.
Wes smiles at me. He still has that twinkle in his eye, the promise of mischief.
“If that’s what you want,” he says. His voice is deep, and it tugs at something low down and delicious. I shiver again.
“I’ll be there,” I say, and my voice sounds too breathy. Wes nods and turns away from me. I watch him walk away. He has broad shoulders. His tailor-made blazer hugs his body, and he wears the suit like he’s doing it a favor. I watch his ass as he walks. I like a good ass on a man. Nothing too big but firm and round will do it for me. I don’t like those asses where the pants hang empty, and there’s nothing to hold onto.
Wes Wagner has a delectable ass. I don’t really think there’s something about him that isn’t delectable.
When he’s out of sight, I can think straight again. I press my hands to my cheeks and breathe in slowly. He knows. He knows I want him. If he wasn’t sure before, he knows now after my comment about seeing him alone. God, I’m just an idiot sometimes.
But Wes didn’t seem unhappy that I’m fawning over him.
The rest of the day is spent in a tug of war between focusing on work and fantasizing about Wes. I imagine myself in all sorts of compromising positions with him: against a wall with his one hand pinning my wrists above my head and the other hand between my legs, rubbing my clit. On a desk with my legs spread and his dick inside me. In a shower with hot water running over my body and his thick flesh sliding between my ass cheeks before he finds my entrance and pushes into me from behind.
I know that I’m playing with fire. I’m working myself up for something that might never happen. No, something that can’t happen. I can’t let my unexpected attraction to Wes change anything. Besides, there are rules – RidgeCo is a company that’s strict about relationships between employees, and I don’t doubt they’ll enforce it if someone oversteps the bounds.
Thinking about those rules almost makes me laugh. Ironic that they’re so strictly enforced now that I’m working here.
Wes might be off-limits in real life, but there are no rules about fantasizing about coworkers. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m thinking dirty thoughts about him, and I proceed to do so the rest of the day. Just because I fantasize about it doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.
When I get home that evening, I’m hot and bothered. I want a release. I want to fuck.
My phone rings and I pick it up, relieved about the distraction. It’s Paris.
“I just got home from work.”
“Cool.”
Paris is my best friend. I met her at a fundraiser during college. She didn’t raise funds, she just popped in to see what was going on. That’s her attitude – glide through life to see the sights but never partake.
She’s so happy-go-lucky sometimes I envy her carefree life, but I don’t think I’d be able to live like that. She’s my age but she doesn’t have a steady job, and she doesn’t seem intent on getting one anytime soon.
But she’s a great friend, she’ll be there for me no matter what, and if someone will talk sense into me, it’s her. Ironic.
“How are things with Connor?” I ask.
Paris snorts. “Who’s Connor?”
Right. “Did you break it off with him, already?”
Paris sighs. “He’s good in bed, Ky, but he was getting all serious, and I don’t want to be serious.”
I shake my head and take a microwave meal from the freezer. Paris isn’t serious about anything.
“What about you? Any men in your new position worth looking at?”
I swallow. “My boss is hot,” I say.
“Wes?”
“Yeah. But I can’t do anything with him. Company rules, you know?” I chuckle but it’s not funny, it’s frustrating.
“It’s not just the company rules,” Paris says.
“Right. I have a job I can lose,” I point out.
Paris sighs. She knows exactly why I can’t really get involved with Wes. “Tell me about him,” she says. “Talking isn’t a crime, right? Get it out of your system.”
I chuckle. “No, it’s not.” I tell her about Wes, about what he looks like, what he sounds like when he speaks. I leave out that I’ve fantasized about him all day. I leave out I think he’ll be a damn good fuck. I leave out that I want him to take me.
There’s no need for Paris to know how dirty I can get when we both know it’s not going to happen.
When we finally say goodbye, her need for gossip is satisfied, and I’m more sexually frustrated than when I started.
Wes
I can’t get Kylie off my mind. When I asked her to come to my office, I meant for it to be about work. Sure, I want to be locked up in a small space and have my way with her. Yes, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time, and she gives off that innocent vibe in a way that makes me want to fuck it right out of her. Even though based on what I know, she’s anything but innocent.
But she’s also my new project manager, and we have work to discuss.
I would’ve behaved myself and not thought all sorts of dirty things if it wasn’t for her comment about seeing me alone. It doesn’t very often happen to a man that the forbidden fruit he lusts after wants him, too. Well, if that man isn’t me. Doesn’t mean I’m not above temptation.
She asked if she would be in my office, alone. I can’t think of any other reason for her to want to be alone with me than the fact she wants me, too. At least, that’s what I think it is. It’s what I hope it is. It can’t be that she’s trying to make a move this soon.
God, if I had my way with her, I would fuck her on my desk until she cried out. I would take her from behind, pound into her with that ass exposed. I can imagine what her mouth would look like if her lips are stretched around my cock.
I close my eyes and breathe out with a shudder. I am so horny it’s driving me insane. I’m rock hard in my pants, my cock throbbing and my balls are swollen and begging for release.
But I must be a good boy. I can’t lay her down on my couch and fuck her. She works for me, and I’m not allowed to fuck her – we have rules here at RidgeCo. Rules that stop me from having my way with a woman like Kylie because she works for the company the same way I do. I’m not allowed to fraternize with my colleagues.
But God, I want to.
That’s not even the biggest reason I need to keep my hands to myself. Patience, Wes . I’ll have my chance. It’s like a game of chess. I have to keep my strategy firmly in place, even if I do see an opportunity to make a move. Not yet . I just have to bide my time. If everything goes according to my plan, I’ll come out on top, having my way with her and exploding all of her own carefully laid out plans in the process.
I glance at my wristwatch. I sent her an email asking her to be here by two. Where the hell is she?
Just as I think it, a knock sounds on the door and it opens a moment later. She stands in the doorway. A thrill travels through me when I look at her. I wave her in.
She walks into my office, and I watch the way she moves as she turns to close the door again. She’s elegant and graceful in her high heels – some women walk like a newborn calf on their heels because they can’t handle it – and she’s dressed to kill in an office outfit that works as well behind a desk here at RidgeCo as it would in a porno.
She wears a black pencil skirt that hits her mid-thigh. It’s not too short for the office, but it’s pushing it. Her long legs are clad in stockings – I hope to God they’re not pantyhose – and when she turns around, the slit flashes enough thigh for me to know her legs are fantastic. A white blouse is a nice contrast against the black skirt, and it’s unbuttoned just low enough for me to want to know what’s underneath it but not so low that I can find out by staring.
Her hair hangs down her back, wavy and silken.
When she turns to me, she smiles a little nervously. Her lips are a dark red – not a hooker red – and subtle makeup has been applied to her eyes to make them look larger, but she doesn’t look tacky.
She glances around the office for a moment. A large window lets in a lot of light, bookcases to my left and a couch to my right. The desk is in the middle of the room, and the wall behind me displays my degrees and awards and all the things that say nothing about who I really am. She has no idea about the real me.
“Good afternoon, Miss Jordan—Kylie,” I say. “Please, sit down.”
She smiles at me. She walks to one of the chairs that face me. I get up and walk around my desk, sitting down next to her. She watches me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Just like I know she can’t read my thoughts. Neither of us reveal the subterfuge lying just beneath the surface. The only difference is I’m the only one of us aware we’re both playing dirty.
Game on.
“Hello, Wes,” she says. I like the way my name sounds on her tongue.
“How are you coping in the new positions?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s a little daunting to catch up on so much reading after hours, but I’m managing. I’m enjoying it.” She smiles, and I glance at her mouth. Her lips are plump, the bottom lip a little thicker so that it looks like she pouts, and they’re so damn kissable I have to force myself to look at her eyes again
“I’m glad you’re managing,” I say. “Do you have any questions about the project?”
The business talk is boring, and I can smell her perfume – something light and floral. It’s driving me mad.
“Well, I have an idea here,” she says, and removes a file from the bag she brought with her. She opens it up and shows me what she’s been working on. I look at her handiwork, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I note that her work is good, that she’s done a lot of research and knows what she’s talking about. I also vaguely register that she’s doing a damn good job for someone I know has ulterior motives for working here.
But I can’t get that scent out of my nose, and she’s sitting so close to me I can almost see down her blouse. Almost. My cock is throbbing in my pants again. Smell is the most powerful sense. It can be your fantasy or your nightmare.
In this case, it’s driving me mad. I can’t listen to what she’s saying anymore. I watch her mouth as it moves, explaining her work to me, and all I can think about is kissing her. I know I’m not supposed to think of her as a plaything. She’s my employee. But sex is pinned to my frontal lobe, and I can’t think of anything else.
I don’t w
ant to. Somewhere, I decide to break the rules. It’s not a conscious decision, but it happens all the same.
“I’m sorry, Kylie,” I say, interrupting her sentence. “I’m sure you’re great at your job. I hired you for a reason. But I can’t sit here and pretend I don’t know what’s going on here.”
I get up and walk toward the office door. Kylie watches me as I move. I can feel her eyes on my body. If she sees my hard-on, she doesn’t let on, but I know it’s there, tugging and straining against my pants, begging for a release.
I lock the office door and turn back to Kylie. She’s still watching me, her big brown eyes on mine. She swallows. Does she think I’m onto her? I’m making her nervous, making her sweat. My eyes trace the smooth line of her neck into her cleavage where the blouse is buttoned up too high for me to see her tits. I want to see them.
“What are you doing?” she asks. Her voice has that breathy quality to it, the same as it had on Monday. I love it when she’s flustered like this. It makes me want to take advantage of her. I don’t give a fuck if it sounds bad putting it like that. I can’t help what I want. What I like. With her asking if we could be alone, I know that I’m not taking advantage of her. She wants this about as badly as I do. I’m willing to bet my position in the company on that.
I briefly wonder if it bothers her that I’m affecting her like this. If this throws as much of a wrench in her plans as it does mine. And suddenly, I don’t give a flying fuck if I’m upping my game too soon. It all ends the same anyway, right? With me destroying everything she’s setting out to accomplish.
So why wait? I have to have her. Now.
When I walk back to her, her eyes flick down to my crotch, and I know that she knows I’m hard for her.
“I have to get this out in the open,” I say.
I don’t let her ask me what I’m talking about. If she doesn’t know already, I’m going to show her. When I reach her, I take her hand and pull her up. I grab her around the waist and pull her against me so that her crotch is against mine.
