Personal Assistant

by Cara North

  “It’s not the eighteenth century. No one wears thigh highs and a garter belt unless they are wearing them for someone, and usually in bed. Are you wearing this for me or someone else?” His fingers slid down the length of the straps and back up again.

  “I like wearing them. I’m fond of several things considered provocative. I like them because they are pretty, different, not because I’m trying to tease you. I didn’t even realize you knew I had them on until you popped the strap in the car.” She tried for a straight face as she lied. Before the shower, before the car, before everything else, she had picked this outfit with the express purpose of making herself feel desirable, and hoping by evening she would share it with him.

  He slipped two long fingers under her panties and found her wet for him. It was impossible to control her body’s reaction. The moment he touched the straps she could feel her insides go liquid. Her outside tried to fight for reasonable sanity. They were in a public place and his family was right outside. Or were they? Any woman could walk in at any moment, if there had been any other women in the place. It would be scandalous for him to be caught that way. Her career as a professor, much less an assistant, would be over.

  He pressed them into her warm, wet flesh and she watched their reflection grow blurry in the mirror as her eyes closed on a moan. It wasn’t fair. It was not fair the way he could manipulate her body.

  “Frankie, you’re still on birth control?” He asked as his fingers moved inside her, soothed her temper, and fueled her lust.

  She nodded her head yes. She had been on birth control since she was sixteen because her mom caught her and Shay watching porn one afternoon after school. They were studying to become the ultimate in the sack once they had a chance to get in the sack.

  His fingers pulled out and away leaving her breathless and wanting. Not for long, though. The broad head of his cock always earned a gasp upon entry, the familiar fullness, the ridge locking him inside.

  “This will be quick,” he said before gripping her hip with one hand and shoulder with the other. “Quicker than I would like, but I can’t wait any longer.”

  She could feel his naked flesh inside of her, the heat more intense, the smoothness unrestricted by the prophylactic, her body more sensitive to it, his too by the way he thrust, hard, deep, then quick short jerks. She forced her eyes open to see him as he came. He had no idea what a beautiful sight he made. In that moment, many people tense their features, but not Jonas, he let go. Like looking up at sunshine after the rain there was nothing but an expression of peace on the man’s face when he came. He bit his lip, pushed, breathed, the vein in his neck stood out with the effort. One eye closed, opened, he wasn’t looking at himself in the mirror. Instead, he was looking at himself as he pushed into her wet pussy and pulled out. A few more thrusts and he spent. The rush of semen filled her, something she wasn’t used to. He pulled out of her then stepped back.

  He looked a little bit shell shocked as if returning to his body from somewhere else. He pushed his hands through his hair and looked at her.

  Frankie stood up, grabbed a few paper towels and put them under the water. Her body was still aching, heightened with need, but this was not the time or place for her to get off. Had he not ambushed her like that she would have convinced him to wait. She needed to start convincing herself to stop. She handed him the towels and turned to take care of her own business. “I think we have to stop being reckless like this.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll wait for you in the car,” she said with forced control. She left him there. She was grateful she had left everything but her phone and the keys in the car. Those items were tucked securely into an inside pocket on the hip of the skirt.

  Once in her car, her brand fucking new car, she tried to hold it together and failed miserably. She was a blubbering mess when he got there. Stunned, he immediately thought something had happened to her. “What happened? Where are you hurt? Did you turn your ankle? Are you all right?”

  His hands were everywhere checking her for injury when the only things injured were her pride and her heart.

  “Talk to me, Frankie. What can I do?” He pulled off his t-shirt and used it to wipe her face. Another round of inexplicable crying began at the gesture. She couldn’t imagine how much the shirt cost and he was smearing make-up on it.

  He sat back and said nothing for a moment, then asked in a quiet voice, “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head no.

  “I didn’t drink more than a glass of wine and that was when we first arrived. Do you want me to drive us home?” He placed his hand behind her neck and gently squeezed.

  She nodded.

  Frankie slid over as Jonas got out of the passenger seat and walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

  ***

  Jonas drove them home, to his home at any rate, and by then Frankie was asleep, dead to the world. Her head on his thigh he replayed the evening over and over to figure out what had gone wrong. He carried her into the house and up the stairs. He stood in the hall for several moments trying to decide what room to put her in. He carried her to his bed and pulled one of her shoes off. He had every intention of putting pajamas on her and letting her get some sleep. Maybe he was working her too hard out of the bedroom. Maybe in it too, but it didn’t seem like that before.

  She woke up with a start.

  “What, where am I?” Frankie grabbed her forehead and her eyes struggled against the light.

  “Home.” He looked her over. Her nose was still pink from the crying, her makeup wiped off long ago on his t-shirt. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Jonas.” She started but he shushed her.

  “Look, Frankie, my sister was out of line. She should not have asked you to leave. I know I was being a bit of a…brat, but I’ve never given something to someone and…well had them try to give it back. I thought you would be excited. I was so excited to get you something, anything that could show you how much I appreciate you. And not just your work. I mean, Frankie you have to know that I like you. A lot.”

  She nodded and said, “I thought I could keep it separate, but I’m not dealing with a normal situation.”

  She must have lost one of her contacts during the cry. One eye squinted as she rubbed the other.

  “That’s fair.” He nodded.

  “We don’t go our separate ways at night. I think I need to go home at night from now on. I like you, too… a lot. Maybe more than I should right now. I mean… how am I going to make sure you don’t get put in the press for doing something stupid if I am the something stupid you’re doing?” She frowned.

  He hated to be the reason.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you into the bathroom. I was so mad, I went to apologize, when I saw you I remembered the glimpse of the garter and I just couldn’t help myself. It’s your fault, really, if you would have just gotten in the shower with me none of this would have happened.” He tested her patience with a smile.

  She let out a sigh of defeat and laughed. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I mean playing both sides. I can work for you. I know that much for sure. I enjoy working for you. I just don’t know if I can keep having sex with you. I thought I could. I thought the fantasy would be better in reality, but reality sucks.”

  She should have just punched him in the face. It would have felt better. “So I suck?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant…I can’t separate fucking you for the sake of enjoying sex and caring about you. It’s so easy and natural to care about you. Not to mention on some level, I get paid to care about you. It’s too easy to be confused. If you were less kind, less playful, if the lines were black and white I could walk them…I think. They aren’t. I’m swerving back and forth like a drunk driver and I don’t want to crash and get hurt, or worse hurt you with my reckless actions.” She looked up at him. “Janice had every right to ask me to leave. I’m your assistant not your girlfriend. You’re only sleeping
with me because you aren’t sleeping with someone else.”

  She should sign up for a boxing class. Maybe he would put that on her schedule. She just knocked him out before he had a fair chance to stand in the ring. “You need some space, personally, right? That’s what you’re asking for. I can respect that.”

  He lied. Something felt as though it were breaking inside of him. He didn’t love Frankie, he was almost sure of that. He didn’t really know what he felt for her. It was wildly new, exciting, and different. He looked at the nightstand, anywhere but her face. “So, I uh, guess you want to go home now, huh?”

  She reached into the band of her dress and pulled out his nemesis, her phone. After clicking through a few things she said, “You have an early morning. I should probably just stay. Tonight.”

  “Then stay, here. Tonight. I won’t ask again. I won’t try to assault you in public bathrooms, or lure you into my shower, or buy you…anything other than a meal, until you get your head straight and feel like you can figure out where I fit in your life.” He really needed to take Buddy’s advice and just eat and forget the diet. He was turning into a woman because his calorie count was ridiculous. How else could he explain this absurd sense of commitment to a woman he barely knew anything about other than what was on her resume? How could he check his own feelings when half the time he was starving? She didn’t bother to stop eating anything and everything she wanted. The real question was, how could he manage Frankie? “But if you want to stay across the hall, I understand.”

  She shook her head no. Taking any sign as a good sign he removed her other shoe and tossed it next to the only thing he had gotten off of her before she woke up. Tentatively, his fingers moved across her ankle and up her thigh until he touched the fastener on the garter. She pulled her contact out and sat it on the nightstand.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Much,” she sighed.

  “I don’t know why you started wearing them. I thought you looked hot in your glasses.” He unsnapped one, then the next. He tugged the stocking down her leg.

  She pulled her shirt up over her head and whispered, “This is the last time.”

  “Then I better make it count.” He meant it. She seemed pretty firm in her decision to give the sex a cooling off period and he was just getting comfortable enough to start asking for new things.

  It was easy to undress Frankie. She was helpful, not shy about her body. She didn’t hide from him like other women had. She was comfortable in her own skin. Why shouldn’t she be? Frankie was gorgeous. Her skin smooth to the touch, she had hips, a bubble butt, soft and round, real breasts, they weren’t too high on her chest, too firm to the touch, and she was real in every way possible. He kissed her neck and felt the pulse against his lips. He inhaled the scent of her. He could smell her shampoo, a floral scent.

  Her skin smelled like vanilla. Maybe that was why he was always trying to taste her. She smelled like fresh baked cookies all the damn time. He kissed her earlobe. She moved her hand between them and helped navigate him inside. If he could ever describe what he felt when entering her it would be close to the word whole. It was as though her body was made for his. She didn’t complain that he was too thick, too long, not thick or long enough. He enjoyed every feminine response to his thrusts, her sighs, moans, the way she pulled at his shoulders, the bite of her nails on the cheeks of his ass as she grew closer to her orgasm. She gripped his cock from the inside and he knew she would topple over soon. He hadn’t fucked her this way to completion because he had to keep his mind on not sticking his tongue in her mouth. It was distracting. He wanted to kiss her. He pushed away, but she pulled him close again. She called his name. Her body tensed, and then pulsed around him. He loved the squeeze on his cock, loved the rush of endorphins to his brain as his ego inflated and her body continued to ride the wave of pleasure. He nuzzled his nose across hers, around, his lips almost touched hers, but the consequences were more than he could deal with so he shifted to kiss her neck. He put his attention, effort, and mind there as he rode his way home. By the time he came he was fairly certain he had left a mark on her flesh. Oh well, she had other options.

  Chapter Eight

  The first weeks of Fall…

  Frankie had to admit, she missed him. She rolled over in her bed and knew it would be another restless night added to the rest of the nights she’d decided not to stay at his gorgeous home and instead chose to return to her crummy apartment. She once thought about staying with Ish, at least he had heat. Her building had none at the moment. There was something, a fuse or compressor out, whatever it was they were working on it. In the meantime she was just grateful the cool nights didn’t turn cold for another month or so. One of the perks of living in Southern California.

  Her morning started to the sound of her phone playing Florence and the Machine’s Shake it Out. She rolled out of bed, already in her jogging pants and t-shirt, tucked the phone in the hip pocket, and let the music play. She brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and drove her luxurious gift to his house where she met Jonas and Ish for a nice jog, as had become the new routine. The exercise helped to burn off the sexual tension. It helped to wear down the energy, most days. Most nights after he had ended face time on the phone, she found herself masturbating to the images of the real Jonas Gunner in her memory, not the pictures in the magazines.

  He had been invited to more events that he continued to refuse to go to. He was being more reclusive than he had ever been. She worried about him going out and meeting someone new. She worried that by not going out, he would lose some of his favoritism in the press. She didn’t know what to say or do.

  They were trotting along when he said, “I’ve got a date this weekend so you can take Friday off, maybe Saturday, too.”

  She wanted to believe something on the pristine path had suddenly jumped out and grabbed her ankle and that was why her knees buckled and she went flying forward onto the concrete. She knew better. She had decided to take the song’s advice and start fresh, let it take its course rather than fighting her feelings day in and day out. She was too late.

  The scrape against her hands and knees was painful. The skin pulled, peeled, and began bleeding. Jonas was practically freaking out as he started to pull her up. Ish, now at eye level, began licking her face, smearing her tears and making it worse since she couldn’t get on her feet as fast as she wanted to between them.

  Her brain was functioning again, the words processed, the pain settling in. “I’m okay.”

  She was, until she took a step forward.

  “Ouch, shit.” Frankie cursed. Then she tried to wipe at her eyes and realized her palms were scraped and bloody.

  He reached over and wiped her tears. His brow furrowed. His mood melancholy.

  “Here,” he said as he pulled her into his arms and lifted her up to carry her back to the house. “Lucky for me you’re still slow and we aren’t that far. Isn’t that right, Ish? Frankie’s too slow.”

  Yep, that about summed it up. Several times she wanted to tell him how she felt. Several moments passed with interruptions. He was working now, really working and going to the studios for screen tests with actresses and such. He had beefed up. He now ate anything and everything he wanted to eat to fuel the muscles steadily increasing on his already amazing body. The studio wanted to find the right leading lady. He had been known to date his co-stars. Apparently this film would be no different, except this movie was the first of three. Frankie let her head fall against his shoulder in defeat. She had been stupid. Careless with her opportunities and now, she was going to be the one scheduling their dates, picking up things for him to give to some other woman. She sobbed.

  Once in the kitchen he sat her on a stool and started looking for the first aid kit. Ish, smart boy that he was, took off to go play in his pool.

  “It’s on the right side, second drawer.” She sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

  He moved towards her with the first aid k
it, opened the box and pulled out an antiseptic spray. “This might hurt a bit.”

  It stung instantly. He looked at the torn material on one knee and pulled the fabric away. “You should probably just take these off.”

  Frankie looked at her skinned palms and then at her pants. She moved her hands, but Jonas laughed and said, “I got it, Frankie. I’ve done this before.”

  Maybe he meant he had taken off pants, maybe he meant he had taken pants of a woman, but it sure felt like he meant he had taken her pants off specifically. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her pants and tugged them slowly down her hips. She regretted not shaving her legs. She had a bit of fuzz on her thighs. Once he pulled the material away from her knees she hissed out a sound.

  “Poor baby.” He tisked. His fingers slid behind her knee, he looked at the left knee, barely skinned, not bleeding, and leaned in. The moment his lips pressed against the hot spot of the wound she could feel her heart break open and a flood of pent up emotions rushed out. “There, I kissed it to make it better.”

  Frankie started to say something and like so many times before was cut off. This time it was by the spray and the sting of the antiseptic. He pressed his lips to the corner of her other knee after spraying it.

  She was breathless. He was practically on his knees in front of her. Her pants were off, her heart running wild. Some things didn’t change. She wanted him. She always wanted him. He had been careful not to lure her into conversation in his bedroom. He didn’t flirt the same way he had when they’d first met. This was the first glimpse of what she once had. How stupid she had been. She should have jumped head first down the rabbit hole. At least then she would have stood a chance, she would have known for sure. She was so afraid of her own damn feelings she had cut off any hope of finding any man to love her, much less a man like Jonas.