Dirty in Charge

by Luke Steel

  I hear a soft gasp, feel the vibration as she moans around my cock. She tries to grip me, take control again, but I catch her hands in mine and push to the back of her throat once, twice, and then I feel that delicate flutter of her mouth as she swallows.

  I pull back, then, so she can breathe, but follows me, keeping the tip between her lips, even more eager, if that’s even possible. When I let her hands go, both of them close around my cock shaft, stroking and pulling. I shudder and can’t help but moan myself as she continues to work with her hands and her mouth in a coordinated stroke that will have me on my knees too if I let her keep going.

  I take her head in my hands and gently stop her. She pulls back, and looks up at me from her knees. So damn sexy. Unbelievably beautiful, even in shadow.

  I stroke her button lip with my thumb and she bites it, playful.

  “You want that cock somewhere else don’t you?”

  In reply, she turns her face into my palm and bites there, too. I help her to stand while I settle down onto the stone bench.

  She tries to climb into my lap, but I make her stand first, reaching up under her skirt to yank her panties down. She steps out of them and I pocket the lace, running my hands back up the inside of her legs. The lips of her pussy are swollen and soft, and my cock jerks when I think about how sweet that juice is on my tongue. She leans down to kiss me as I stroke her, and our lips meet again as I press two fingers up hard and tight into her core. She moans and reaches down to palm my cock, pumps twice, a silent yet very eloquent reminder of what I promised her. I pull my fingers back and lick them in front of her, then pull her so she can taste herself on my lips.

  I take my hands away just long enough to fumble a condom out of my pocket while she climbs up into my lap and straddles me. I can feel all that hot, wet heat so close to the bare skin of my cock. I vow right then it won’t be long before I’m going to know exactly what it feels like to be inside her skin to skin. For now, though, I just want in.

  Emma takes my cock in hand again and steadies herself as she puts the tip at her entrance. But she sinks down only halfway before she cries out and has to stop again. Baby girl is still a little sore from everything we did last night.

  I push my face into the crook of her neck, tongue the skin there, then lower. She’s so fucking tight and hot, I have to keep from surging up and in the rest of the way. I don’t want to hurt her, but I won’t be able to fight the urge to slam into her much longer. To distract myself, I push her bra and blouse up and over her tits, sucking first one and then the other nipple deep into my mouth.

  She moans and shudders, sinking lower. I know it’s starting to feel good for her now because she’s sliding up and down on her own, working the shaft deeper in. I let her nipple pop free, and then pull her close and lick the whirl of her ear.

  “That’s it baby, nice and slow. Take it.” She shudders, and I feel a ripple go all the way through her as she sinks all the way down. “You like it when I fill you up like this, fuck you like this. Tell me.”

  “James…yes! Yes…”

  Emma rises up and sinks all the way down again, completely filled. I put my hands on her hips and help guide the motion.

  I push my cock deeper into her, looking up at her. “Don’t fight this. Don’t try to stop this… or me.”

  Emma shakes her head then presses her forehead to mine, riding my cock. Up again and all the way down, harder this time. A little flick and grind of her hips as the sensation builds higher.

  Without warning, I lick the tip of my middle finger and then, as she’s still riding me, I reach up the back of her skirt and press it to her asshole. When Emma’s whole body jerks in surprise, I’m right there to meet her mouth with mine. She’s suspended for a moment, Instinctively she surges forward and down, away from my invading fingers, but I just push deeper in from both directions, so that no matter where she moves, I’m there. Her ass in my hands, her pussy filled by my cock, her mouth open for my kiss—all of her is mine now.

  “James!” She breaks the kiss to call my name, and then her mouth is back on mine, her tongue twisting and frantic while I continue to work her ass and pussy at the same time. She talks into my mouth, her voice raw as she gasps. “It feels… hurts…oh!”

  “Does it hurt?” I lick into her mouth and gentle the motion without stopping. When she grinds back, stopping seems to be the very last thing she’s asking for. In another minute, she’s pushing more, harder, and I am happy to oblige.

  “That’s it, baby. Take what you want.” I slide my finger in deeper in her ass just as I surge up into her again from below. “You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

  Every time she moves, squirms, rises, I’m there to drag her back. ”I fucked your mouth. I’m in your pussy. Feel this?” I press my finger into her ass again, and she shudders. “This is mine, too. My hands, my tongue, every inch filling you up right now, you’re going to let me in. Any time.” I pump into her. “Anywhere.” I slam into her again. “I want. All of you. Mine.”

  She shudders and cries out, then kisses me, her tongue flicking as wildly as her hips. It’s all for her, but the heat isn’t letting up, for either of us. I fucking love the way she feels, responds, every bit of her. But I’m not stopping until she knows what I know, inside and out.

  There’s a hot wet rush between her thighs then, and I know she’s there. It can’t happen too soon: just as I’m focused on keeping it nice and steady and slow for her, the feel of her pussy around my cock is unbelievable. I’m trying not to, but I know every time she sinks down, I’m surging up now, locked in tight.

  She cries out when I slam up into her, her body meeting mine, riding it out. More. Again. I feel her come apart in my arms just as the rush swoops up from the base of my cock and up into her, the orgasm shaking us both as I slam into her one hard final time.

  I hold her close to me for a long while until the last of the shockwaves subside. The night rushes back in around us and I pull back to look into her eyes. She pushes the hair out of her face and our foreheads touch again, no words, just breathing fast, loving the tight little pulses still going through her as we both come down.

  “Emma,” I say her name into her mouth. “Emma.”

  My Emma.

  She opens her eyes and smiles at me. It’s a soft, sated smile, and I brush a kiss to her lips and say her name again.

  “I meant what I told you, Em.”

  She tilts her head and I kiss the line of her jaw.

  “It’s never been this way for me before. Ever.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut tight and holds me close. “Me either. I never thought it would scare me when it happened.”

  I pull her up. “Good scared or bad scared?”

  She smiles then, that radiant, moonlit smile I’m falling in love with deeper by the second. “Good scared. The best scared.”

  Later, our clothes back in place and hair finger combed and presentable, Emma follows me back up to the house. I let her hand go as we get closer. I want to keep my promise to her and not distract her until tomorrow is over.

  Get through one more day, I tell myself, that’s all.

  After that, they’re gonna have to peel me off her.

  Holding hands or not, we’re both distracted as we head back. Which is how we’re both caught off guard when Justine cuts us off at the back of the terrace doors. Standing next to her is a small, slight man in a tightly tailored suit.

  “Well, Emma,” the evil old woman arches her brow and sweeps an eye over both of us, “where have you been, I wonder. We’ve been trying to find you for the last hour.” The insinuation is full of venom. The man next to her is stone-faced and silent.

  There’s no way she can prove what we were just doing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty. Rather than back down, though, I lean in.

  “Emma was with me, actually, tending to a small surprise I’m planning for tomorrow.”

  “Oh really,” Justine says, her eyes narrowing. I already don’t like
her, but now my hackles go up. This old lady better watch it.

  “Mr. Blake, may I introduce you to Renaissance Events’ owner, Grayson Chandler. He is the master designer and company founder.”

  “Enchanted to meet you, sir,” Grayson steps forward, and he almost clicks his heels together as we shake. “It’s an honor to be called upon to stage this event in such a glorious and historic home.”

  We shake hands, and the little man’s eyes turn to Emma. “Emma, wonderful to see you, as well. I must say, though, Justine has had me quite concerned.”

  Emma blanches and I step in.

  “Concerned? Emma has been wonderful. The bride and groom are thrilled with everything so far, and everyone is looking forward to tomorrow.”

  Emma smiles gently at me, but then her eyes lower to the ground. She looks like she’s going to be sick.

  Grayson’s eyes are cold as slate when he smiles. “I’m very pleased to hear that. But as Justine pointed out to me privately, perhaps it’s time for our Emma to take a bow for a job well done. It’s the nature of our business to engineer the spectacle and show for the event, not make ourselves the center attraction, as it were.”

  Justine smirks, and for the first time in my life, I feel like punching an old lady isn’t all that bad an idea. The little prig standing in front of me could do with a few whacks, too.

  “Mr. Grayson. As you know, we are going to have quite a few press and other media outlets here tomorrow for this special event. Many social and political guests will be arriving. And of course Blake House is open for the first time, and I would like to see it get the grand treatment it deserves.

  “There’s also the matter of my new sister-in-law. It’s the bride’s day, and the bride has communicated directly to me that she favors Emma. Emma has worked with her closely from the beginning, something I think Justine has resented.”

  Justine’s eyes nearly bug out of her skull, and Mr. Grayson takes a step back.

  “If any of those things are upset, I want you to know there will be repercussions. I don’t pretend to know about your business, but I can tell you that in mine, a company’s reputation—both in how they operate and in how they treat their employees—can make a huge impact on future business. Am I making myself clear?”

  I think I had the guy at “press and media outlets,” but the silence from both Justine and Grayson seems to say it all.

  “Emma was helping me with a small surprise. And my new sister, Lena, is counting on her being here tomorrow. Is that clear as well?”

  Silence is the consensus.

  I walk away. Emma trips after me, leaving her employer and his evil minion in our dust.

  We walk back in the general direction of the party.

  “That was…pretty intense,” Emma says after a while.

  I look at her. “I know I saved tomorrow. But you’re still probably fired. You know that, right”

  She nods.

  “You don’t seem as upset as you were…before.”

  Emma sighs. “Yeah, weird.” We walk a bit more and she says, “I think it’s because it felt good to have someone stand up for me. I don’t like being the girl who has to be saved but,” she grins when I glare at her, “hard to knock it when it happens.”

  “What can I say? I’m the man.”

  She punches my shoulder.

  We’re almost back to the party when she starts musing out loud, “Grayson’s not a bad guy, you know. I think Justine’s been pouring poison in his ear about me. But if I can think of a ‘special surprise” and pull it off by tomorrow, there’s a chance I might be able to save the whole thing.”

  We stop outside the doors of the party and look out over the lake. In the distance, the hummingbird lanterns are still glowing over the water, riding the gentle breeze. Emma stands close to me, and I’m struck again by how beautiful she is. I’ll always remember, too, how she looked before, her face lit and golden in the lantern light as it floated up and overhead like magic.

  “I have an idea,” I say, and she turns to me.

  “What?”

  “You might not like it. It involves saving you again.”

  She sighs and smiles. “What?”

  Eleven

  Emma

  So this is what it feels like to be a damsel in distress. I was right the first time: I hate it.

  Not because I’m worried about myself. I’m worried about James. We’re two hours away from show time and James still isn’t back.

  Two hours may sound like a lot of time, but for an event planner, that’s like five minutes.

  My white knight took off super early this morning, destination unknown. Something about a hanger. I had to get my butt downstairs to coordinate the crew and all the last minute details that make any wedding a freaking marathon, much less the society event of the year.

  And yes, after my whole speech about distractions and work and saving it for after, I did still spend the night. Something I’m learning very fast about James: he’s a killer negotiator.

  He’s also late.

  This is bad event planning 101—never let your client “surprise” you with anything. I have about a hundred or so plates spinning in the air (some of them even actual plates, as we make sure the banquet tables are set and arranged to spec) as we coordinate the florists, flower designers, caterers and every crew and stagehand in the tri-state area. The only saving grace is Lena is a dream bride. She and her bridesmaids have been focused solely on getting ready, and everything is going according to the meticulously laid plan we set months ago.

  The only thing I have left to worry about is James. He’s the best man, and the groom will freak out if he doesn’t get here soon. I don’t want James to miss this time with his brother just for me.

  I meant what I said last night. Something about seeing James stand up for me made the whole situation with Justine clear. I know she hates me because I’m a better designer and more capable. Where before I wondered whether that was my ego talking, now I have this new confidence.

  I’m a damn good designer. I’m watching the photographers and film crew from different magazines go crazy over the flourishes we set up for this event, and I know we hit it out of the park. Surprise or no surprise, I think it’s going to be OK. Justine’s been benched and Chandler knows me. When the crew found out today, all of them were thrilled rather than worried. If today goes well—and I need to be confident that it will—the press that comes with this will help me find a job somewhere else.

  At the very least, I have a pretty hot date planned. That’s enough to cheer up any girl.

  Where is he?

  I’m pacing in front of the house, barking instructions through my headset as I scan the service road for his car. Nothing yet.

  There’s a plane buzzing overhead, though. Normally I wouldn’t notice the thing, but it sounds lower and closer to the house than usual.

  I look up and start sprinting for the lake.

  A small seaplane is heading straight for the water. As I get closer, I’m relieved that it seems to be gliding in for a landing rather than crashing, but then I have to do a triple-take—why is a plane landing on the lake!

  Behind me, some of the houseguests come spilling out onto the terrace, and security comes up beside me just as the plane’s door pops open. James is the pilot, and he’s waving to shore.

  I’m surprised, but somehow not shocked. James is proving to be one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known.

  Before I can tell them to send one, one of the house attendants pushes a boat out onto the water and paddles out to scoop him up. James has a giant basket in his hands and he maneuvers himself and the bulky box item into the small rowboat.

  James points to me, and they start paddling to shore.

  Well, that’s one way to make an entrance.

  “Hey babe,” he says, and hands me the basket the same way he might hand me a cup of coffee in the morning, though the basket is actually quite big, covered in mesh. I hear delicate flutter
ing inside.

  “Is this…are these what I think they are?”

  “I dunno. What do you think they are?” He’s enjoying himself, I can tell.

  I roll my eyes. And then I look up at the seaplane, still completely overwhelmed.

  “I didn’t know you could fly.”

  My dashing hero leans in to claim his kiss. “I can do a lot of things. Which you’ll find out soon enough. After.”

  Lord save me from dashing heroes. Who are nice to their mothers. Who live in castles. And who look absolutely killer in tailored designer tuxedos.

  The ceremony is as beautiful as designed, the bride and groom standing under an arbor at the highest point at Blake House, the ocean sprawling out just beyond them. The bride, as she should be, is the highlight of the show, her smile radiant, and her gown a gorgeous train of feathered swirls topped by a handmade pearl bodice. The best part is that Lena and Joe are completely caught up in one another, repeating their vows into each other’s eyes, in a world of their own. This is the part that can’t be staged or planned, no matter how you try. It’s the real secret to the magic trick. Everything else is smoke and mirrors. And a lot of double-sided tape.

  The large basket that James gave me is actually a honeycomb nest of smaller mesh-topped boxes, each containing two fluttering surprises. We have twenty-four crewmembers positioned at strategic points at the edge of the assembled guests, each with a box. As the bridge and groom kiss, the signal goes out to open them.

  A delicate ripple of excitement flows through the crowd and photographers begin snapping wildly as the boxes are opened and a little cloud of hummingbirds rises up and around the guests, a fluttering circle of them near the bride and groom. The bride’s delighted gasp blends in with everyone else’s as the music swells and the pastor presents the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Blake to the world.