by Seth King
Penn: Well, speaking of your job, how’s it going? I can ask that.
Hannah: It’s…fine. It’s nice enough.
But not as nice as giving you a rim job… I thought to myself as the scenes from that night slid into my thoughts yet again, making me want to fan my face. Now that a bit of time had passed, I was willing to admit it to myself: he tasted good. Very good. So good I wanted to taste again.
Penn: That’s it? “Fine?”
Again, I didn’t respond. What did he want? And what was I supposed to say? Out in the world, I could be as cunty to him as I wanted. But here, I was subjugated. He was my employer.
Penn: Do you not want to talk anymore?
Hannah: Maybe not. It’s a distraction.
Penn: Then why are your nipples hard right now?
I glanced through the window into his office. He was sitting at his desk, watching me.
Hannah: Stop talking about my appearance. That’s inappropriate.
I tried to look away and ignore the hot shiver that ran up my spine at the eye contact.
Penn: You are welcome to stop talking to me at any point, you know.
But I couldn’t. He knew that. We both knew that. We’d only exchanged a few sentences, and I already felt like I was on an amphetamine high.
Penn: You haven’t said anything about my Spark dates.
Penn: (If you can call them that)
I shook my head. Why was he so obnoxious?
Hannah: I am your executive assistant. You can do whatever you want. That has nothing to do with me. I don’t care about your personal life.
Penn: It had something to do with you when you licked me in my car.
Hannah: Okay. This is inappropriate. I work for you.
Penn: But you still want to fuck me.
All the oxygen in the office disappeared.
Hannah: I didn’t deny that. But this is weird.
Penn: Look at me. Please.
I turned to the window and gasped: he’d slid himself out of his pants. He started playing with the tip of his cock, never breaking eye contact. I shuddered.
Penn: I like when your nipples are hard. I want them in my mouth. I want to bite down on them while you moan my name.
I wiped my forehead and tried to ignore him and focus on my work. But when I looked back thirty seconds later, he was in the middle of a climax. It took everything in me to stay in my seat and not march over there and fuck his living brains out.
~
This sexual torture continued on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I’d do my job just like any day, but every afternoon he’d scoot to where nobody else in the office could see, and masturbate for me. On Tuesday I refused to watch. On Wednesday I watched the whole thing, hating myself every moment for it. On Thursday I even reached down and caressed my thigh while he jacked himself. We both knew I couldn’t resist him.
By Friday, I knew I had to end this before I marched into his office and fucked him on his chair. I’d been overloaded with horniness all week, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d never let a man take me over like this. It had to end.
The message came twenty minutes before my lunch break.
Penn: I’m sick of this never going anywhere, so tell me something. Have you ever had your boss inside of you? While at work?
I rolled my eyes, but the question was still sort of hot. I appreciated how forward he was. In a world of assholes pretending to be princes, at least he wasn’t trying to wear a crown.
Hannah: I’m not answering that. What a gross, sexist thing to say.
Penn: I didn’t mention gender, but okay. And here’s a new question, then.
Hannah: …Yes?
Penn: Have you ever had the boss bend you over his desk in the middle of the day and fuck you until you came harder than you’ve ever come before?
I had to wait until I could breathe again to respond. I’d ruined everything by fucking him at our first meeting and letting him know he aroused me. Now he had the upper hand.
Hannah: Don’t talk to me like that. This isn’t some erotica novel.
Penn: But I want it to be.
Out of fear that I would spontaneously combust if I didn’t end this, I typed another quick rebuke.
Hannah: I’m working. Please leave me alone now.
Penn: But I can’t.
I gulped as my mind started racing with questions. I couldn’t avoid this anymore.
Hannah: What does that mean?
Hannah: What is this thing we’re doing?
Hannah: What do you even want from me? You’re so weird. You have CEOs and senators and Instagram stars parading in and out of the office. Why would you be talking to me?
Penn: Because you take up far more space inside me than they do. And I’m not just talking about your tongue in my ass…
I turned. He was staring right at me while stroking himself up and down, up and down, up and down. It made Technicolor flashbacks of the night in the SUV explode into my brain, and I had to close my eyes for a moment to stop the rush. I had never been more aroused in my life, and I hated it. This was so wrong. This crossed so many lines. They were delicious lines, but still. What we were doing – it was wrong.
Also, I was sick of his whole façade. I wanted him to know he didn’t have to be this shocking, taboo, controversial ladies’ man with me, the Chuck Bass character he’d created for himself, the arrogant rich guy who said things about “your tongue in my ass” and all this other bullshit. That guy seemed like such a put-on. The guy he’d revealed in the SUV towards the end of the night – I wanted to know that version of Penn, the unaffected and funny and vulnerable one. I didn’t give a shit about this tabloid caricature he tried to be while out in the public eye.
I leaned over my keyboard.
Hannah: Once again: this is weird. And you’re weirder. What do you even want from me?
I held my breath until his response came. I could feel my own pulse under my cheapo H&M watch Rachel gave me for my birthday.
Penn: More. I want more.
This made all the feeling leave my face. So he did want to get to know me. Maybe I could pursue him, but on my own terms. Maybe, to teach him how to behave and stop being such a goddamned chauvinist, I could do all the things to him that men did to the women in the romance novels – fuck him senseless and treat his heart like refried beans and generally assert my dominance over him in every way, shape and form until he gave in to me. Maybe I could make Penn Sparks my damsel in distress – maybe I could dominate my billionaire. Lord knew it was about time to turn the tables.
But still – he was my boss. How would I go about any of this when he held my future in his hands?
As the blood pounded in my ears like the bass line of a Rihanna song, I swallowed hard and typed a response.
Hannah: What kind of more?
Please look for the next installment of the Match series
Coming soon
“I met you at the lowest point of my life, and you made me believe in the existence of light again. I want to take your hand and follow you into forever, and I want to hold you down and fuck you senselessly. Please allow me to do both. In equal measure.”
