“Mallory.” Owen’s voice was curt, masking any form of embarrassment. “I’ve told you before to knock before you enter my office. What is it?”
Keeping her venomous eyes on me, she responded, “Owen, as requested, I fired our ad agency and set up a meeting at two o’clock with a new one—ZAP. It’s the hottest shop in town.”
“Very well.” He looked my way. “Olive, will you please put together a complete file on ZAP. I need it before the meeting.”
Before I could say a word, Mallory barked out, “What the hell?”
Owen snapped back at her. “Watch your language, Clint.” And then his voice softened. “I’d like to you meet my new assistant, Olive Cumming.”
“Hi,” I said, with a smile and my most sugar-coated voice.
Her eyes narrowed at me and I swear I saw flames shooting out of her nostrils. I held my own as her gaze shifted back to Owen.
“Remember, 2 p.m. sharp.” With that, she stomped out of the office, leaving us alone.
“She’s a joy,” I commented, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Owen chortled. “You’ll get used to her. She’s just doing her job.”
One thing I’d learned in my life from all the body shaming I’d endured was that mean girls were very good at their jobs. In fact, they excelled. My heart stuttered at the thought of having to contend with her, but before I could get too riled up, Owen gave me a playful pat on my butt.
“Go now. Get to work, Miss Cumming. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, sir.” With my heart spinning into a happy dance, I skipped out of his office, eager to start my new job. I was eager to please him in every way possible.
I was in love.
Head over heels in love with the most sinfully sexy man in the world.
My Donut King.
I couldn’t focus behind my closed door. Thanks to the focus group, I had a shitload of emails to answer and problems to solve, ranging from what we should name our new caramel custard donut to deciding whether we should shut down our New Haven store.
All I could think about was her. My beautiful princess, Olive Cumming.
“Olive…Olive…Olive.” Oh, how I loved saying her name out loud. It took my breath away and made my cock stand at full attention.
I’d never met a woman like her before. Most of them were wafer-thin models and starlets who viewed my donuts like vermin. I was a big man with an even bigger appetite, but somehow these women, no matter how gorgeous or glamorous they were, never sated it. They wanted my money more than they wanted me.
But, Olive…she was different. She reminded me of my late mother—a big, beautiful woman, who had an insatiable appetite for life. And she was so wholesome, pure, and sweet. An innocent virgin. I was still shocked by her confession. Rather than turning me off, it turned me on. She was mine. Only mine. I’d heard about falling in love at first sight, but thought it was some bullshit myth. But it had happened to me. Untrusting, jaded Owen King, The Donut King. I was the first man to deflower her and now I owned her. And was going to protect her to the day I died. My princess just didn’t know it yet.
As I stared blankly at my computer screen, I thought about summoning her to my office and fucking her over my desk. My cock strained against my pants at the thought of her delicious ass in the air. But she had her work cut out for her and I vowed to keep the door that separated us closed. Instead, I began to fantasize what she looked like with her clothes off. Mentally, I undressed her, piece by piece, and began to imagine her butt-naked in my mind’s eye. Her luscious curves, those big fucking tits, her shapely legs all tied together by her creamy alabaster skin. Closing my eyes, I imagined licking her everywhere, the sound of her sweet moans filling my ears. I thought more about her ample breasts, envisioning them as two mounds of soft dough I could knead in my hands. And at the thought of her nipples, my balls tightened with want. There was no doubt in my mind they were pink donut-shaped buds puckered with sprinkles that would harden beneath my touch and make me lust after her. I yearned to twirl them, tweak them, suck them, and lick them. Imagining this scenario, I cupped my hand over my hard, hungry cock, buried under my trousers, and began to jerk off. Stroking myself, I leaned back in my desk chair and reveled in the sensation.
“Sir…”
Snapping my eyes open, I immediately straightened up. Olive! I thought my cock would have a heart attack.
“Yes?” My beauty. My princess. My love.
“I put together a file with the information you need.”
My eyes darted to the thick folder in her hand.
“If you don’t mind me saying, I think ZAP! is the perfect advertising agency.”
“And why is that, Olive?”
“Because the founder and CEO, Jaime Zander, is on the cutting edge. He totally transformed his wife’s company, Gloria’s Secret, into a global force.”
“The lingerie company?”
“Yes. I love that store. I wish I could shop there, but I can’t afford it.”
“And why else do you think ZAP! would be right for us?”
“Because based on what I read, Mr. Zander works quickly and efficiently and always stays on budget.”
Fuck. Not only was she sexy as hell, but she could also think. Digest information, something none of my previous assistants could do as the only thing they wanted to digest was my cum.
“Thank you, Olive. Just put the folder on my desk.”
My eyes stayed on her as she did as I asked. Holy shit. Those delectable tits, so alive with their bounce, as she strutted my way. Her days of not affording Gloria’s Secret were over. I was going to order sexy lace bras in every color—along with matching panties—and make them part of her job uniform.
“Anything else, sir?” she asked as she set the folder down.
Bend over and spread your legs. And let me fuck you over my desk.
What the fuck was wrong with me? My hormones burned through me.
Fucking love.
The conference room was adjacent to my office. I strode into it with Olive by my side. Mallory was already seated at the table along with Jaime Zander and his ZAP! team, whom I recognized from the thorough file Olive had put together. No other assistant had ever done such a great job gathering the information I needed and so quickly. She was one hell of a girl in every way. She’d even managed to set a platter of assorted donuts on the table for our guests to enjoy.
Jaime rose as I went over to shake his hand. He was actor handsome and dressed casually in faded jeans with a simple V-neck T-shirt. He introduced his two colleagues and I, in turn, introduced Olive.
His eyes lit up. “Hey, beautiful, don’t I know you?”
My blood simmered. He knew my Olive? Had some kind of fling with her? Jealousy bulldozed through my veins as he shot her a wink.
“Wait. I know. You’re the girl from the focus group.”
“Yes,” she said, blushing.
I calmed down but now was curious. “Jaime, you watched the focus group?”
“Yup,” he replied, sitting back down. “Your marketing director sent me a link to the video.”
Clint smiled smugly.
“I watched the whole thing. It was really fascinating.”
“I agree,” I said, getting a good feeling about this advertising guru. In addition to representing Gloria’s Secret, he had many other prestigious clients from around the world and had won numerous awards. I took a seat at the head of the table and told Olive to take the seat next to me. She was facing Mallory, who shot her a scathing look. I wanted to rip it off her snarky smarty-pants face.
Putting my feelings aside, I got right into business. “So, Jaime, as you know, I’m looking for a new creative direction. Something that will breakout and put Donut King back on the map again.”
“And back in everyone’s mouths,” he added.
“Exactly.” With each passing minute, I was liking him more and more. I turned to Clint and belatedly thanked her for sending the fo
cus group footage.
She huffed. “Actually, it was something your new assistant should have handled, but obviously she was far too busy with other things.”
Pinching my lips, I tensed. She was grating on my nerves. I’d long suspected that Clint had a thing for me, but she was so not my type. An anal, self-righteous snob, who thought her Ivy League credentials entitled her to greatness. It was time to put her on the spot.
“So, Mallory, why don’t you share your takeaway from the focus group with Jaime and his team?”
Another smug smile flashed on her lips. There was nothing know-it-all Clint loved more than to voice her opinion first. I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. Showtime. Let the games begin.
Folding her hands on the table, she looked directly at Jaime. “Jaime, in my opinion, it’s very obvious that donuts may be a thing of the past, and without a doubt, featuring Mr. King as the spokesperson is a total turn off.”
To my utter surprise, my new assistant blurted out, “What is wrong with you? Donuts are timeless and Mr. King is yummy!”
I had to love her even if Clint didn’t.
“Owen, why on earth did you have to bring her to this meeting? I read her respondent application. She’s nothing more than a failed waitress, who obviously packs away donuts with her meager wages.”
I could see anger and shame fall over Olive’s face, and it gutted me. I was about to give Clint a piece of my mind, but Jaime beat me to it.
“Actually, Ms. Clit—”
“Clint!”
Jaime harrumphed. “Sorry. But either way, I totally disagree with you. I personally happen to love Donut King donuts as does my wife, and it totally turns me on when I watch her eat one.”
I was all ears as Jaime elaborated.
“What I gleaned from the focus group is that eating a donut is an erotic experience. When I saw the respondents’ reaction to Olive savoring her cream-filled donut, something clicked. The commercial came to me in a New York minute. Imagine…we’re inside a Donut King…customers are seated at tables, sipping coffee. A gorgeous blonde walks up to the counter and orders a cream-filled donut. In slow motion, she bites into it, and as she does, reaches an unprecedented level of ecstasy. We see her face light up as she moans, ‘Oh, Oh, Oh!’ All eyes turn to her, and one of the customers shouts, ‘I want what she’s having.’ Another salivating customer says, ‘Me too!’ There’s a mass bee-line to the donut counter while we pan in on a close-up of our orgasmic beauty licking the cream off her sensuous lips.”
While I was practically salivating and picturing the whole commercial in my head, Jaime turned to his young art director.
“Ray, would you please show Owen and Ms. Clint the tagline we’ve come up with.”
My eyes stayed on his stylishly dressed colleague as he stepped over to an easel displaying a large canvas-covered board. He slipped the cover off, and my jaw dropped to the floor. Facing me was an image of me, not wearing a fake beard or that geeky costume, but rather tight jeans and a Donut King T-shirt that exposed my physique. My right hand was raised, my index finger and thumb joined to form an “O” like the O-K signal. And beside me was as an image of a sexy blonde, who was kissing my cheek. Above the couple was the tagline. I said it aloud with Jaime.
“I’m the Donut King. Let me put the big ‘O’ in donuts.”
Clint leaped to her feet. “That’s preposterous!”
“It’s fucking genius,” I countered. “Sit down, Clint.”
Reluctantly, she did as I asked, her face heating. Ignoring her, I turned my attention to Jaime.
“Man, I think you fucking nailed it.”
A big smile beamed on Jaime’s face as his art director returned to his seat. “I’m glad you like it. We all love it.”
Grinning, his team nodded in agreement.
“What can we do to put this on the fast track?” I chortled. “Oh, by the way, you’re hired.”
After a thumbs up, Jaime got serious. “Listen, I don’t ordinarily do this, but I’d like to get started right away too. There’s a good possibility we can get placement in the Super Bowl.”
“The Super Bowl? Are you fucking kidding? That would be killer.” Indeed, a spot airing during the highly anticipated event could be a game changer and turn our business around.
“No, I mean it. What I want to do is get your business affairs people in touch with mine right away, but in the meantime, we’ll work together in good faith that we’ll strike a deal quickly. The retainer agreement is pretty standard…probably a lot like the one you had with your previous agency.”
“That’s great. So what’s the next step?”
“I’m going to have my art department move forward with a storyboard and I’ll personally write the copy. I’d like to cast the The Big O Girl as soon as possible. In fact, if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, we can set up a casting session right here.”
“That would be awesome.”
“But Owen, we have the staff meeting tomorrow and that could last all afternoon,” protested Clint.
“Fuck it.” I turned to my precious Olive, who had undoubtedly inspired the commercial. God, what a knockout! My cock stirred at the sight of her and I remembered she wasn’t wearing panties. Christ. What did she look like totally naked? Sprawled out on my conference room table? Trying to imagine, I squirmed in my chair as my cock strained against my pants. I hoped no one thought I had jock itch as I gave her an order. “Princess, cancel the staff meeting and keep my afternoon clear tomorrow.”
“Princess?” repeated Clint, scrunching her face in disgust.
Whoops. I slipped. I shouldn’t have called my Olive that. It was unprofessional, but there was nothing I could do about it.
“Yes, sir,” she answered quickly, allowing me the opportunity to not have to respond to Clint. I was going to have a come to Jesus meeting with her soon if she didn’t change her attitude. Or maybe fire her sorry ass. I’d had enough of her. And though her marketing plan had initially stalled our falling sales, her efforts now were doing nothing to stop our marketplace erosion. She was walking on eggshells.
“Whatever,” she mumbled under her breath in defeat. Clint didn’t like to lose. That was one thing we had in common. And besides her father’s pull, the one thing that kept her tethered to the company. Time would tell.
After setting up the casting session for tomorrow at noon, I adjourned the meeting, dismissing a miffed Clint.
I got up and shut the door, making sure to lock it.
I had the conference room all to myself. And my Olive.
My cock was raging, about to burst through my pants. It was time to christen my new conference room table.
“What are you doing?” I asked Olive as she cleared the platter of donuts from the table. My eyes stayed on her big, gorgeous heart-shaped ass. Made for a man’s grip and ready for my love.
“I’m straightening up and then I’m going right back to my desk to send out an email canceling tomorrow’s staff meeting. I’ll just need you to tell me who should be on the list.”
“The email can wait. But I can’t.”
She spun around. A look of innocence colored her face. It so turned me on.
“Get over here.”
Obediently, she strolled over to me. I stood up. Next to my six-foot-four frame, she seemed so petite. She was one delicious little bundle and my hunger for her was gnawing at me.
“Look at me.”
“Yes, sir?” she said as she lifted her eyes.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to be in that meeting when all I could think about was you naked, sprawled out on the conference room table?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Then let me show you.” In a split-second, I undid my fly and shoved the lower half of my two thousand dollar suit to my ankles. Kicking off my loafers, I climbed out of my pants. Olive’s eyes shifted down to the rigid hunk of flesh between my legs. A bead of pre-cum was already dotting the tip.
“Oh my,�
� she chirped, her wide eyes roaming down my long hairy muscular legs and then back up to my cock.
“What?”
“You have very big feet,” she murmured, the flush of her arousal washing over her sweet angelic face.
“Yes, I do.” I wore a size 15EEEE and had to have my shoes custom made just like my suits. My size came with its inconveniences, but the benefits more than made up for them. I glanced down. If cocks came in shoe sizes, mine might be the same.
“And I have something else that’s very big.”
Her rosebud lips formed a smile as her puppy-like eyes hung on to me. “Yes, sir. You do. You have a very big heart.”
I blinked hard. Those were the last words I expected. No one had ever told me that except my mother. After she died, my heart hardened. I became a brute of a football player and then a tyrant of a businessman, growing the little donut shop she’d started with my father into an empire. While I gave generously to a breast cancer foundation in memory of her and offered free donuts to underprivileged kids in schools around the country, my heart had tight boundaries. I’d spent my early adult years going from hook up to hook up, no strings attached. Losing my beloved mother was all the hurt I could bear. I preferred to remain a detached workaholic. And now with the financial challenges the company was facing, I had no time to date. Over the past six months, my heart had turned into stone. A wall had gone up, letting no woman inside. But here was this beautiful Olive, knocking down all my defenses and turning me into goo.
Cupping her shoulders, I held her reverently in my gaze and reflected on her words. “What do you mean by that, Olive?”
Her eyes stayed fixed on mine while her kissable lips parted.
“Owen, I grew up very poor. My mama worked as a maid for demanding rich people. They treated her poorly. And then arthritis set in and she couldn’t work so we went on welfare. She could barely get food on our table. I’ll never forget my first day of middle school. The walk was long, and I was so hungry I thought I would pass out. But when I got to class…there they were. Platters and platters of delicious donuts along with cartons of milk, all courtesy of Donut King. I’ll never forget that moment. It was like seeing an oasis in a desert. And when I bit into that creamy goodness, all the sadness I harbored washed away, especially when my teacher told us that your company had agreed to supply our school with fresh donuts daily. The forever dieting mean girls poo-pooed them. But every day, for the next three years, I had something in my life to look forward to.”
The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) Page 4
