by Mia Madison
I've never seen her this discombobulated and not in purposeful charge of everything. And I can only put that down to her feeling for me. For this giant that's risen between us out of nowhere.
“I can...” Wen starts, clearly offering to leave us.
“I have to get going,” I announce, suddenly coming to my senses. “Take care of the ankle. Have fun, ladies.”
Before they have a chance to utter much more than surprised farewells, I'm back in the beast and roaring off down the street.
The tension doesn’t uncoil from my shoulders until I cross the bridge back into Manhattan. Nothing to do with the suburbs and everything to do with Mabel. I've been with her in a car before but only seated a respectable and appropriate distance on the back seat of the limo while she made notes on what she had to get accomplished for me. Everything from signing huge contracts on my behalf to shopping for a birthday gift for my sister.
Mabel knows more about me than any woman on the planet. Having her in my car, close enough to touch seemed so intimate. Stupid to fucking say that after I sucked her mouth between my lips but there we are. I seem to have become an idiot today and lost all my power to my secretary.
All day she held me in some kind of hypnotic thrall to the point I couldn't let her go at the end of day, finding excuses to take her home. Considering taking her to my place and stripping her out of her clothes. To finally have Mable Trellis naked under my gaze. Perhaps it was fortunate that her little friend interrupted us before I did something even crazier.
I drive into the garage beneath my building and ride up to the penthouse. Every floor illuminating on the scale seeming to take me further away from her until I can breathe easy again.
I step out straight into my home, leap the four steps down into the sunken living area and head straight for the bar. There, I fill a tumbler with single malt to halfway and take a slug without even bothering to go to the Sub Zero for ice. The warmth of the amber fire filters through my chest. I top it off then loosen my tie, throw my jacket across a chair and roll up my sleeves before sprawling back across the sofa.
My freedom doesn’t last long. Images of Mabel in her summer dress come flying back into my head. Her beautiful face, lightly golden from the sun and her eyes like river pebbles, glossy with tears from the pain of turning her ankle.
So brave. Holding it in and not losing all control in front of me. How I wanted to see her cry. Not because I'm some kind of fucking sociopath but only for the sake of making it better for her. And then slowly peeling the clothes off her body so I could trail my tongue across every pore of her delectable body.
I head for another scotch and when my eyes find the clock, I notice hours have slipped away. How the fuck does that happen? I'm gonna lose my entire life thinking about this girl if I don’t get it under wraps here. But it's an addiction worse than any drug. Mabel is a narcotic.
The scratching at my veins to hear her voice, to hear her breathing in those small gasps that tell me she's trying to manage her emotions. Not let me know the intensity of her feeling.
The friend must be gone now, the girls night over with. I cannot resist pulling out my phone and dialing Mabel's number.
She picks up almost immediately.
“Hallo?” her soft voice almost kitteny. She must know it's me.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm, um, lying in bed.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No,” she half whispers so I crave the soft fall of her breath on my mouth. “Sir.”
And when she adds that name I almost bust a vessel.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“Truly. Just thinking.”
“What about.”
She's silent for so long I know exactly what's running through her thoughts.
“Answer me.”
“I was just, um, wondering about today.”
“Wondering. Is that the word you mean to use?”
“I'm confused, Sir.”
And again. One more like that and she's going to be in more trouble than she could ever imagine.
“What are you wearing?”
“What?” she squeaks.
“I said what are you wearing?”
“My night clothes.”
“Describe them.”
“Just a pair of PJ bottoms and a singlet. White.”
“A singlet? Isn't that a little chilly for February?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I feel warm. My apartment is warm I mean.”
“Pull it up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mabel, you have never in two years as my assistant needed me to repeat myself. I said pull it up. Until it's sitting above your tits. Do it.”
I hear some rustling on the end of the line and I can clearly see her full breasts pop free of the tight white cotton.
“Pinch your nipples.”
Another gasp. I sense the resistance in her breath and it's seductive as fuck.
“How does it feel? I want you to describe every sensation.”
“They're hard like little bullets and pointing out. Craving. Demanding to be pinched harder.”
“Put me on speaker phone. That's it, now tweak them both. Tug them out hard. Like I would.”
Her soft moans have my cock hammering wood.
“Get up,” I tell her. “Kneel on your bed.”
More sounds of movement and I imagine her bare tits swaying as she climbs up, then bobbing perky in front of her. If only I could greedily suck each one into my mouth.
“Pull your pajamas down. Not off, just to your knees.”
I hear her comply and the huffing gasps of her breathing in my ear.
“Good. Now bend over. Open your legs. Just enough. That's it. Good girl.”
The thought of her on her knees, her tits bare, her pussy glistening is too much for me. I reach into my pants and pull my dick out before the thing detonates from heat explosion. I mangle the fucker in my grip and imagine the slickness of Mabel's spread pussy.
“Are you wet?”
“You want me to – touch myself?” she whimpers.
So adorable that she isn't already getting herself off. Is waiting for my permission.
“Stroke your clit.”
I love the little gasp she exhales.
“Is that good?”
“Yes.” She whimpers into my ear and almost makes me shoot my load.
“Circle your fingers in your juices. That's it.”
“Oh god,” she moans.
“Yes. Would you like my lips sucking you there as well?”
“Yes.” She lets out a longer moan, her breath hitching faster now.
“Very good, Mabel. You're absolutely perfect. Now go to sleep. Good night.”
I hang up the phone before she has a chance to respond and lean back into the sofa, satisfied at last.
She belongs to me.
Chapter SEVEN
Mabel
The phone cuts out and I'm left stunned and shuddering all at once. My hand is between my thighs and I can't stop swirling through my dripping folds that are clamoring for relief. But it seems so wrong to be doing this alone and worse, for my boss.
Did he intentionally bring me to the pinnacle of orgasm then abandon me before I could get off? Or did he suddenly realize who he was playing with and hang up? Not wanting to continue with something as taboo as listening to his secretary come. Or perhaps he hit speed dial wrongly on his phone.
Oh god. Oh shit.
I yank my top down and my bottoms up and flop down on the mattress. How will I even face him in the morning? My cheeks are burning but nowhere near as hot as my clit that's pulsating energetically with throbs of hunger. I need to be touched.
Is what we just did what they mean by phone sex? I've never been with a man that brought me off via cell. I don't date those kind of men. I'm not that girl that guys like that hit on. The confident hot guys with the rocke
t abs and brushed back hair. With full lips that crash down and claim you.
Like Darcy.
The only guys I've dated before Sam were an accountant who thought me being on top was kinky and a guy that worked at an athletic store but really didn't have the body to go with his chosen profession. Then Sam, who tried hard to be kinky and often asked me to have a threesome. Then went ahead and did it, only without me there.
The agonized throbbing between my legs is not letting up at all, with shivers of electric sparks rushing at my core. Damn, if only Darcy were here with me right now. If only I'd gone through with the desire to pull him up to my room. If only I hadn’t invited Wen over to drown my sorrows with, never dreaming Mr Eglinton would drive me home. Or come that close to kissing me.
“Omigod you had two guys fighting over you right in front of your desk?” she'd whooped when I told her what happened in the office right before we left.
“No, it wasn't at all like that. Sam was being a dick. And Darcy Eglinton's my boss.”
“I know. And what a hot one. You said he was a babe, but holy shit I'd like to take that one for a test drive just for half an hour. In that car even.”
“Jesus, Wen, I'm trying to be serious here.”
But I was laughing. It was true. Darcy was the most gorgeous, delicious thing ever. The kind of man whose photograph you're driven to lick.
“He totally wants you,” she said, matter of factly, as only a computer nerd can be.
“He does not. Oh god, I won't be able to look at him without turning fire hydrant red tomorrow.” Well, that was a definite now.
“Yep. He does.” Wen nodded. “You didn’t see how he was looking at you. I thought he was gonna eat you up big bad wolf style.”
“Not the fairy tale I had in mind.”
“You know what your problem is, Mabel?”
“No, but I guess you're gonna tell me.”
“You don't rate yourself. It's nice that you aren’t one of those girls who's all 'I'm so pretty' and stuff, but you don't realize how hot you are. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t end up with guys that treat you like crap.”
“You mean Darcy?”
“I mean Sam. What an asshat.”
“Obviously he's the sign that I'm destined to be a wrinkled old spinster.”
“Yeah, obviously.”
We got through the bottle of wine she brought while I filled her in on what had happened in Mexico, beyond the bare outlines I'd sent WhatsApp. But the whole evening I had my boss in the back of my mind. I was still drooling and obsessing over the significance of those two occasions- the lip suck in the elevator and the near-kiss by his car. I came back from vacation and everything changed between us. Or was it just out in the open now?
I pulled out the duty free tequila and we got through a couple of shots before Wen recalled it was a school night and went home slightly the worse for wobbles.
The combination of drooling imagination and fierce tequila must have been the reason for my sudden lapse in good judgment when Darcy called. I would never have got on my knees and touched myself for my boss, or anyone else, without that stimulation.
Except I'm stone sober now and the fangirl lust has turned into full blown ravaging desire to be touched and taken as only Darcy Eglinton knows how. The instant he sucked my lip between his I knew he was a man that knows how to manage a woman. The way he spoke to me on the phone, those orders he gave me were the hottest thing I've ever done. My boss makes me do unusual things that I would never normally do. And I want more.
*
Darcy doesn’t come into the office until after lunch. As he strides past my desk with a brief greeting, my heart gives a leap like the cow over the moon. Is he going to say anything about last night?
Of course not. I know my boss and he rarely says a great deal about anything. He's not going to own up to calling the wrong number. It would only embarrass us both. Better we keep calm and carry on, as they say. If only my body wasn’t sending out smoke signals about the urgent need to feel his hands on me, that are about to ignite and burst into flame.
“Mabel, come in here please.”
My heart dances a goddamn Irish jig when his voice comes across the intercom. Just the sound of him, detached, on the end of a line somewhere else but just as sensual and provocative as though he were right beside me. I stand up and brush down my skirt, trying to compose myself. Relaxing deep breaths do absolutely nothing for the way my chest feels like people are playing skittles inside. One last inhalation and I step around my desk and open Mr Eglinton's door.
And I have to clutch the handle a moment too long because my knees are set to buckle under me. He looks so divine sitting behind his huge desk. Like he's a general in command of a battlefield.
Oh god, what the hell is wrong with me?
“You have your four o'clock with Clydesdale today,” I announce in my best has-it-all-one-hundred percent-together voice.
“Damn. The Willerby contract is here. It's complex and needs reworking completely,” he says without looking up.
Okay, so he also is acting like nothing happened last night. Just keep breathing girl.
“I can take care of that. I don't mind staying late if necessary.”
“You're an angel,” he says.
His eyes travel up me, still standing between the door and the chair across from his desk I would normally perch on. He knows I want to run. I can see in his eyes that he can read every single quiver running through my thighs. And then, shit, my cheeks heat up and I know they must be as bright as lighthouse beacons flashing out through a storm because Darcy's smile turns up on one side as his eyes delve into me and I may as well be standing there completely naked.
Chapter EIGHT
Darcy
Every last slice of willpower I had worked up to deal with this day vanishes the moment I see Mabel standing on the other side of my desk and detect her legs quake slightly in the heels, just that bit higher than normal. Her skirt is also a little shorter and tighter, her blouse the same.
I'd like to thank her for taking the time to dress for me. Pretty soon she'll be undressing for me as well. I know that now. There's no point trying to resist her. She is too delectable and my cock needs to be pounding deep inside her, secretary or not.
“Come here,” I tell her.
“Sir?”
She moves quickly then, before my eye roll tells her not to act coyly. She sits at her normal place, on the edge of the visitor chair. I know what she wants. And I want her to know that I plan to give it to her.
Everything.
“Did you touch yourself?” I demand to know.
She opens her mouth, about to question me then changes her mind and shakes her head no. Her eyes lower to the ground as her color rises into her cheeks again.
“Look at me,” I command and as usual, her eyes snap to my face. I pin them there, stapled to mine even while they struggle against the bond.
“Honestly?” I demand to know.
“Yes. I never lie to you, Sir.”
“That's good. So you must be very tense.”
She stares at me then, dumbfounded but I can see the desire in her pink flush rising faster than the embarrassment. She feels like she has to be a good girl and behave appropriately. Meanwhile her body is straining at the leash, demanding to run wild. I get up and walk around to the other side of the desk where I lean against the lacquered wood barely two feet in front of her.
“Take them off.”
“Please, Sir.”
“Mabel, I don't want to have to repeat everything I tell you to do for me. Remove your panties. Now.”
“Someone might come in,” she mewls. Which is far more of an indication of willingness.
“So what?”
Her eyes stare with horror, wondering whether I’d allow her to be exposed to other people.
“You know as well as me that no one will enter my office without your approval. And you aren't at your desk.”
“I -”
“Off. Now.”
Her gorgeous lips squeeze and work themselves together in a frenzy of lust and fear. But she starts to hike her skirt slowly up her legs. Her gaze darts down as though irresistibly drawn to my dick and she finds it pummeling at my pants, bulging in a rage of hunger for her wet pussy.
“Look at me,” I command her.
She can have my dick but not until I've finished with her.
Her hose are those thick black ones, but with a sheen and I'm gratified that they're the hold-up kind, elasticated at the top. Her skirt comes over the lacy tops and her soft flesh is exposed. She's shaking quite visibly now, her emotions all over the place as the soft pink of her panties comes into view. I cant hold back a smile spreading across my face when I see they're already drenched with the juices I'm desperate to lap at and scoop up with my tongue.
I return my gaze to meet hers and raise my eyebrows.
“Off.”
She attempts to lift her hips and remove them outside my view but it's too difficult while seated. She has no option and shakily rises to her feet. With my eyes holding hers stapled, she drags the skirt to her hips, hooks her fingers into her underwear and quickly pulls them down her thighs with an enticing wriggle.
Fuck, she is the most delicious woman I have ever seen. How did I miss the willingness, the fire in Mabel along with her innocent sexiness? I must be a blind idiot.
She shimmies her underwear to her knees and they drop to the floor around her heels. Then she steps out daintily with a brazen flare of her pupils that sets my blood surging almost as much as the pink clit I caught a glimpse of pulsating between her bare lips.
I need another sight of that perfect little slit but her skirt is back at her thighs. I casually bend down, still reclining against my desk, to reach for the slip of lace and satin on the carpet. The sweet aroma of her cunt fills my nostrils and sends me into a delirium like a man inhaling a crack pipe.
“You don't understand how much I need you,” I grit out when I return to standing still reeling from the scent of her.
“I know you appreciate my work,” she murmurs.
“I'm not talking about fucking work,” I bark, making her startle just a little.
I reach my hand around the back of her head, daggering my hard fingers through her silky hair and draw her toward me. Knowing her pussy is bare under her outfit is a narcotic fix I need satiated.
