by Nikki Chase
“Alright, I can respect that,” I say. Without another word, I slide my hands down to her hips, and I pick her up so easily she might have been made of paper. Claire gasps and throws her arms around my shoulders for balance, laughing as I carry her over to one of the big kitchen counters. I set her down and level my gaze at her. “But in that case, we’ll just have to fit in some overtime. The dishes will still be there in, oh, an hour or so.”
Claire starts to say, “What are you—” when a gasp punctuates her words.
I already have my hands on her uniform top, unbuttoning it slowly, my lips following closely behind, kissing her bare skin.
Claire grips the counter and watches me with wide eyes. Soon, I get her to shrug the fabric off, then I pull her undershirt up over her head, leaving her in nothing but a bra.
“Ben, we’re in the kitchen,” she breathes, a red blush growing on her cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say. “My kitchen. Where people follow my orders.”
She bites her lip for a moment. “And what are your orders?” she asks in a thick tone that makes my cock throb and swell up.
“That we get these pants off,” I say as I unhook her bra and pull it off her arms.
The next few moments are almost a blur. I toss her bra to the side and wrap my arms around her and bring my mouth to her breasts. I hear her sweet gasp as I take almost all of one into my mouth, toying with the stiffening nipple with the tip of my tongue. I swirl it around her areola and tease the nub, getting it harder by the moment before going to the other and giving it the same treatment. As I do, her hands run through my hair, scratching my scalp before I decide her tits have had enough.
I bring my hands down to her pants and unbutton them, then grip them by the waist and start to work them down. She wiggles in time with me—swaying her hips from side to side in a way that only whets my appetite for her—helping me get them out from under her ass and down to her calves. I pull her shoes off and let them clatter to the floor before her pants and underwear follow.
She barely has time to get her hands firmly on my shoulders before I kneel down and scoot her closer to me, pushing her thighs apart and breathing on the soft, wet lips of her pussy for a moment. The heady scent between her legs is incredible, and it tells me she’s just as ready for me as I am to take her.
I let my tongue out and roll it over her lips, and I can already taste her honey starting to offer itself to me. A deep groan comes from my chest as I start to lick her, and immediately, she starts to match them with her own desperate ones. She holds on, one hand on my head and the other on my shoulder as I lick her over and over. With each stroke, I bring the tip of my tongue just shy of her clit, teasing her to no end.
She puts one hand on the counter and tries to push her hips forward and force my tongue to graze her swollen nub, but I chuckle and draw back just enough, holding her hips firmly in place.
She finally gives up, digging her nails into me as I dive deeper into her. Her taste is exquisite, and her rhythmic moaning is music to my ears. Claire’s whole body is waking up.
As I tease her, my teeth graze her clit, and the high-pitched whimper that spills out of her lips is too much to resist. I bring my mouth in, finally letting my tongue swipe up and caress her right under her clit, and I hear a sigh of delight and anticipation as she puts both her hands through my hair and grips my head. The scent of her getting thicker in the air goads me on with each stroke.
My tongue swirls around her clit in small, firm circles, lavishing her in the attention I’ve been dying to give her all day. I need to have her. I need to make her feel everything I want her to feel.
Soon, I hear the tone of her gasping change, and I know I’m getting closer to the brink. I stroke her relentlessly, tormenting that swollen clit with everything I’ve got, the heady aroma of her filling my nostrils. Finally, her nails dig into my scalp, and I feel her whole body start to convulse. She lets out a sharp gasp that goes silent, even though her mouth is open and frozen. I hold her down through her orgasm, stroking her from start to finish.
When I finally feel her body start to relax, I raise my head to look at her and grin at the blushing, panting face of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“You, Claire Madsen,” I growl, standing up slowly and unbuttoning my pants to let my fully stiff cock spring forth, heavy balls and all, “are the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in any kitchen.”
She manages to smile weakly, still overwhelmed by the orgasm, until I lay the soft underside of my cock against her pussy. I start to grind up and down against her, and I watch those beautiful blue eyes flutter shut as she revels in the feeling of my hardness against her.
I grab her hips, squeezing her thighs and her ass as she lets her legs hang on either side of me. My cock pulses at the hot, wet, messy feeling of the aftermath of her orgasm against it.
Something about carelessly grinding against her soft pussy feels so primal, and it draws out such a raw need in me, to the point where my every move is pure instinct.
I wrap a hand around the back of her neck, cradling her head as I lean in to kiss her. As my cock massages her pussy, our tongues dance together in a hot kiss. When her bare chest brushes against me, I can’t hold back any more.
I bring my hips back far enough to let the bulging crown of my cock rest against her pussy, and just as she wraps her legs around my hips, I thrust forward. She sucks in a sharp breath, her lips falling open as my cock slides right into her as if the two were made for each other. Her warm, wet lips hug my shaft wonderfully, and she feels so tight that I want to burst in her right then.
We kiss each other fast and hard as I start to rut into her. She’s so ready for me that neither of us want to take it slowly. My hips are moving almost of their own accord, my body working in perfect harmony to work her deep, hard, and fast. The sound of my cock sliding in and out of her is almost as good as the desperate moaning I hear from her, vibrating softly against my tongue.
My thrusting gets faster, and when I find a spot that drives her crazy, I start pistoning into her with machine-like precision, each time feeling every inch of her pussy.
My cock is so hard and swollen. My balls ache, desperate for release.
The effect this girl has on me is irresistible. She makes me want to let go and release everything I have. My cock glides back and forth in her; she starts to pulse and tighten with me.
The peak is coming soon, and both of us know it—and we couldn’t do anything to stop it if we wanted to. We’re all primal urge now, nothing but base desires working themselves out on each other. My mouth goes to her neck, teeth grazing and toying with the sensitive flesh as my hands squeeze her hips.
I hear a tell-tale gasp, and I know I’ve pushed her to the edge yet again. This time, I let my inhibitions go, whispering in her ear, “That’s right. Come now. Come for me.”
Immediately, I feel myself spilling past the point of no return. I buck my hips relentlessly into her, and no matter how much I try, I can’t keep the rhythm. I get irregular and wild, grunting as I thrust to the sound of her quickening, desperate panting until we both hit the peak at the same time.
Her delighted sigh fills the air at the very same moment a thick jet of my seed fills her pussy. Soon after, shot after shot of it spills into her as we lock lips. Her whole body quivers and shakes through our orgasms, and as they start to get slower, so does our kissing, until it’s all finally over in one sweet, silent moment.
I break the kiss to look at her half-lidded eyes.
“I’ve got to get you to my place for round two,” I growl.
She smiles through her orgasmic daze. “Sounds good. But Ben, seriously, the kitchen.”
I let out a sigh as my breathing returns to normal.
This whole treating-her-like-the-rest-of-them thing is going to be the hardest thing ever.
Claire
The next morning, I awake to the cheerful chirping of birds outside the bedroom window. I smile an
d stretch, then turn over in bed to reach for Ben, hoping to pull him close and snuggle up to his warm, hard body.
But then my heart sinks. The bed next to me is empty.
For a split second, I’m worried, until I remember that he’s already headed off to work this morning early. I totally forgot that he wanted to get there before the morning shift starts to do some paperwork and planning for the week.
I sigh wistfully and grab his pillow, clutching it to my chest and inhaling the deep, musky scent he left there.
I can’t help but miss his presence. I’ve gotten so accustomed to waking up next to Ben that I feel a little lonely without him there. Deep in my heart, there’s a warning bell clanging, reminding me not to get too attached.
He’s my boss, after all. And what we’re doing isn’t even exactly dating. In fact, I realize as I sit up in bed, I’m not really sure what our label would be.
As I sit there wondering about it sleepily, my phone starts buzzing on the bedside table. Thinking maybe it might be Ben calling to say good morning, I hastily grab it and slide the screen open with a goofy grin on my face.
“Hello?” I answer cheerily.
“Hi honey!” comes the reply, and I do a double take at the phone, realizing it’s not Ben.
It’s my mom, for some reason. Normally she’s not one to call so early in the morning, since she’s usually neck-deep in a Pilates or spin class by now.
“Oh. Hi,” I say, startled into a daze. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” she repeats with a giggle. “I could ask you the same thing!”
“What do you mean?” I ask, starting to feel suspicious about this impromptu call.
“Well, don’t you have some exciting news to share with me?” she hints.
I frown, wracking my brain for an inkling of what she might be talking about. I come up empty and respond, “No? I don’t think so.”
She sighs exasperatedly and blurts out, “You and Ben! You’re dating, right? It’s, like, official now! You have to tell me all about it.”
“We’re what?” I splutter. “No, Mom. That’s—that’s not true.”
“Oh, there’s no need to keep it a secret from me! I’m your mother. You can tell me anything! I know you’re a very private person, dear, but between the tabloids and what Ben told his mother the other day—”
“Hold on, what did he tell her?” I interrupt, getting annoyed.
“Oh, just that you two have been spending nights together lately. Don’t worry, I know you’re a grown up and you can make your own choices so I’m not going to lecture you about any of that! We don’t need to discuss the gritty details. I just want you to know how happy your father and I are for you, dear,” she gushes happily.
“Oh, God,” I grumble, leaning my face into my palm.
“It’s just so nice to know you’re finally seeing someone, especially a guy like Ben. He comes from such a great family and he has a bright future ahead of him and I just know you two will be so happy together. And after you’ve been alone for so long . . .”
My heart is racing and I feel anger boiling up inside me. “Uh, listen. Mom, I need to hang up, okay? I’ve got to go get ready for work,” I lie.
“Oh, okay! Talk later?” she suggests brightly.
“Sure. Yes. Definitely. Bye,” I answer, hanging up before she can even reply.
I stare down at the phone in disbelief for a moment. How the hell did things go so wrong?
There’s a reason I haven’t told my parents about us yet. Actually, there are lots of reasons. A multitude of perfectly good reasons.
And now, apparently, Ben has flippantly made the decision to tell his mother we’re sleeping together? What the hell is he thinking?
Ben and I haven’t even discussed the details of our— whatever this is— together yet! We have no idea if it’s going to be anything serious.
I haven’t made a big deal out of it because I don’t want to jinx it, and if things were to go south, that could potentially cause a rift in my parents’ decades-long friendship with the Grahams.
There’s just too much at stake, I decide, as I slide out of bed.
It’s high time Ben and I had a real, open discussion about all this.
All morning, I text Ben, asking him to talk to me about what happened. I pace around his apartment like a crazy person, checking and re-checking my phone for a reply. I even try calling him over and over again, but only his automated voicemail message responds.
I hate being that kind of girl. I never want to have to chase after a guy. I’ve always told myself that if someone wants to talk to me, they’ll reach out and make it happen.
And yet, here I am, furiously typing away on my phone, firing off text after text.
Finally, I get showered, dressed, and ready for the afternoon shift.
All the way to the restaurant, I fume about it.We have to talk. We’re adults, right?
Just as I’m pulling up to the parking lot, I get a text from Ben. At last.
I whip out my phone and read it over, only to let out a snort of disgust. To my annoyance, he doesn’t even address the questions I posed. It’s the blandest, least helpful response in the world, and it’s not good enough.
Hey. Busy at work. See you soon.
Instead of calming me down, his reply only intensifies my anger. I groan with frustration and get out of the car, marching up to the back of the building to walk into his office there.
I knock sharply at the door, and when I don’t immediately get a response from inside, I knock even harder.
I’m just raising my fist to knock for a third time when the door suddenly swings open to reveal Ben standing there with a bewildered frown on his face.
“Jesus, Claire. What is it?” he asks.
“No,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. “I am not okay.”
He sighs and ushers me inside, closing the door behind me. “Alright, what’s going on with you?”
I roll my eyes. “What’s going on with me? What’s going on with you?”
“Claire, you’re going to have to be a little more specific here,” he says.
“Fine,” I reply, glaring at him. “First of all, you’ve been ignoring my messages and calls all day.”
“Right, yeah. It’s been really busy here.”
“Really? Too busy to type out a text and send it to me? That takes, like, five seconds, tops, Ben. I think you could find the time for that,” I say. “When you ignore me like that, it stresses me out and makes me feel like you don’t respect me, you know? I just want an answer so that I know everything is okay. I mean, what if it had been something really urgent?”
“Was it urgent?” he asks, narrowing his eyes and leaning back against his desk.
“Yes! Kind of,” I groan. “Ben, my mom called this morning to talk about how you and I are apparently dating now. All because you told your mom about us.”
He winces. “Shit. I should’ve known she would tell your parents.”
“Why did you tell her in the first place?” I ask, throwing up my arms.
“Well, to be honest, it just kind of slipped out. I was on the phone with her and just . . . happened to mention that you were back at the apartment still sleeping,” he sighs. “It was a total accident, Claire. I was trying to multi-task here at work and talk on the phone at the same time and it just happened. I really didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”
“Well, it is.” I massage my throbbing temples. It’s okay, I try to tell myself. He made a mistake. But my emotions are waging war inside me. There’s so much at stake here and I haven’t taken the time to sort things out and now suddenly it feels like I’m thrust so far forward I’m going to fall flat on my face. I take a deep breath. In a calmer voice, I say, “We haven’t even discussed that stuff yet ourselves, Ben. Don’t you think you and I should talk about what our relationship status is now before you alert the parental authorities about it?”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. Of course,” he rel
ents, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I screwed up. I swear it was an accident, but you’re right. I should have been more careful.”
“It’s just that we need to communicate better about this stuff if we’re going to make this— any of this—work. We already have a pretty unconventional situation here, but if we can’t be a team, it’ll all fall apart, you know?” I point out, feeling my anger subside, now that he’s right in front of me and not somewhere unreachable, ignoring my attempts at reaching out.
I can’t stay mad at him long. Not when he’s looking at me with those gorgeous dark eyes and those sensuous lips.
“Of course. I apologize, Claire. Truly, I’m sorry,” Ben says softly as he walks over to hug me. He nuzzles his nose into my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll do better, I swear.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I do want that too, you know. For things to work out, long term.”
He’s being so sweet. And I guess this means we’ve just made things official. We’re really together now.
But my heart rate doesn’t slow down.
It still freaks me out that just having him ignore my calls and texts for a few hours had gotten me so worked up.
Now that everything’s cleared up with just a few simple words from Ben, I see how crazy I was all day.
I swear I don’t normally act like this with any other guy. I’m usually a lot more sane than this, a lot more level-headed.
I’m the cool girl, the one who never demands a guy to pay attention to me because I’m typically busy doing my own thing anyway.
But Ben dominates my mind so completely I can’t direct my thoughts anywhere else when something—even the smallest thing—goes wrong.
I don’t know when but somewhere along the line, I’ve given Ben the power to ruin me.
It terrifies me. Scares the shit out of me. Petrifies me so much my legs are already itching, raring to go.
My head is leaned against Ben’s chest, listening to his regular heartbeat—the sound soothes me.
