by Christa Wick
I rubbed harder, listening to both of the actors moaning and grunting as the knight moved up her body and pushed his thick cock into her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I pinched at my nipples as I rubbed at my clit, hoping the pain would draw me away from the deeper ache in my empty cunt long enough that I could come. The knight found relief before I did, my body still painfully aroused as he rolled the blonde onto her stomach.
Seeing him spread the cheeks of her full bottom, a strangled cry clawed its way up my throat. His tongue pushed between the cheeks, its tip lightly stroking at her anus as he fucked his fingers into her pussy.
The chair protested beneath me as my hand picked up speed. I pressed hard against my clit, fingers moving in a blur as the knight’s dirty little backside kiss brought the sleeper’s eyes open. She cried out in ecstasy and I joined her a second later, liquid squirting from me to wet the leather beneath my round bottom.
Too aroused to be mortified that I’d just squirted on a three-thousand dollar chair, I continued to punish my sore cunt, rubbing at it as the knight pulled the sleeper’s sweet ass onto his thick cock, roughly fucking her until her moans and delighted screams brought the entire castle awake and I squirted a second, and then a third, time.
With every bone in my body melted by the heat of my arousal, I collapsed into the chair as the naked couple made their way down the staircase hand in hand.
A barking laugh disturbed me, more so when I realized I was the one making the harsh noise. My cream still moist on my thighs, I closed the movie and erased the file history. With the evidence of my trespass clear from the computer, I straightened my clothes and carefully cleaned Cole’s chair, blushing furiously the entire time.
Finished, I looked at the clock, shocked at how much time had passed. I had less than ninety minutes to find the real South Bend file and get the preliminary report finished before Cole was back in the office.
Planting my ass in his chair once more, I realized how sensitive my flesh remained, how much my cunt and nipples ached with the need for more rubbing. Blowing a blonde strand of hair obscuring my vision, I forced my hands to the keyboard and typed every variation of “South Bend” I could think of in the folder finder until I finally came upon “South Vend” and laughed.
One small typo, one giant discovery of my boss’s secret kink.
**********
Five minutes after I finished printing the report and walking it on shaky legs to Cole’s desk, he sauntered past my desk.
“I have something for you, sweetling.”
He kept walking, forcing me to follow after him. Filled with apprehension, I watched him settle into the chair I’d made a mess of less than two hours before. His mouth dipped at one corner as he fiddled with the levers below the seat that would lower it and keep his knees from hitting his desk.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Forgot to put it back.”
Picking up his carry-on, he waggled his eyebrows at me as he unzipped the bag. “Seat’s still warm.”
I felt my cheeks color with an embarrassed rush of blood. If the chair was dry, I didn’t care how warm it was. Except I didn’t want him wondering why I had sat at his desk for so long.
“I started on the art center’s project after I finished South Bend,” I lied. “But I couldn’t get the Excel file to work. I didn’t know one spreadsheet could even have that many fields!”
“I’m not sure about that project.” Reaching into his bag, he removed a small box wrapped in gold-colored paper. Placing it on the desk, he slid it toward me. “Let’s send the file to the forensic accounting team first and make sure all that data isn’t hiding something.”
Nodding, I wrapped my hand around the box. It wasn’t unusual for Cole to bring me little presents when he’d been gone for a few days. He knew I had to work extra hours when he was gone. The number of messages tripled and I often had to spend time at his desk finding one file or another to send to him or fax to someone else. Extra money found its way into my paycheck at those times, too, but the gifts were his personal way of thanking me.
Grinning at him as I unwrapped the present, I somehow managed to put aside the memory of me sitting at his desk earlier that day, skirt around my hips and my hands down my underwear. Pulling out the dark brown perfume bottle with its golden cap, the memory came back in a hot rush.
V by Clive Christian
Not even two ounces, I knew the bottle cost at least four-hundred dollars. I offered a small laugh as I started to return the perfume to its box. “Thank you, but you weren’t gone that long.”
Stretching an arm across the desk, he stopped me. Gently, he pulled the box from my hand. The dark steel eyes glittered like the edge of a sharp blade as he settled against the back of his chair. Crooking a finger at me, he smiled.
“Come here.”
How many fantasies of mine starring the man in front of me had started with those same words and gesture?
At least a dozen.
Fighting the urge to blush or run from the room crying in embarrassment, I meekly rounded the desk to stand in front of him. Capturing my wrist, Cole applied a trace of the perfume to my heating flesh.
Leaning in, he inhaled deeply, his eyes drifting shut as he did. “They say the V is for the initial of the creator’s daughter, but I think they’re lying.”
Releasing my hand, he looked up at me, mirth warming his gaze. “What do you think?”
I brought my hand up to my face and took a whiff. Orange blossom curled across my senses, followed an instant later with the deeper scent of rose and a small polish of chamomile. “It’s lovely, but you really weren’t gone that long. It was a light week overall.”
His lips pursed as he returned the box with its expensive perfume to my waiting hand. Reaching into his bag, he spoke over his shoulder at me. “But not a light weekend, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” I answered, seeing the very thick folder he pulled from the bag. My chest deflated slightly and I realized I was disappointed. His gifts usually weren’t so personal or expensive. Subconsciously, I had read more meaning into the perfume than I was aware of. And the real meaning was that he wanted me to work at least part of the weekend.
He handed the folder to me. “The DC area MWR sent me this.”
I nodded. MWR stood for Morale, Welfare and Recreation, an organization that worked to improve the lives of military families. I had fielded calls from their office earlier that week.
“They had funding for temporary housing near Walter Reed for family members that fell through at the last minute.” A deep frown etched its way across his handsome features. “If they don’t replace the funds by the end of next week, they’ll lose matching funds that have been pledged.”
My stomach hollowed as I flipped through the folder. The housing was for family members of soldiers at Walter Reed for medical treatment. A lot of them were soldiers returning from the war who would need surgeries and rehabilitation before returning home.
“Shh...sweetling.” Cole ran a comforting hand up my arm then gently squeezed. “We’ll get them squared away, but it means working through the weekend.”
“Of course. The weekend isn’t a problem.” I answered, smiling at him through my tears. Cole had hired me not only because we were both students of Shakespeare but because he had seen how ridiculously tender my heart was during the quote competition. He said he knew a woman who could tear up on a few lines of poetry she had probably read a hundred times would handle the charity’s needs with the utmost care.
I had a heart “too soon made glad,” he had joked at the end of the interview, taking a break from the Bard as he quoted Robert Browning. That was the first time I realized how easy it would be to fall in love with Cole Mason.
Turning his computer on, Cole offered a guilty grin, the sides of his mouth going up as he bit at his bottom lip. “One small hitch.”
“There has to be.” Shaking my head, I laughed. “That’s one of the most expensive perfumes available.�
�
He kept biting at his lip as it slid from side to side. I stopped laughing as apprehension crept in. What kind of hitch could make Cole Mason look nervous? The man epitomized cool under pressure.
“Come on,” I urged, going so far as to push lightly at his shoulder. “What is it?”
“I’ll need you to stay at the estate this weekend,” he answered. “I have a few deliveries I don’t want to leave to anyone else and it’s better if we’re in the same spot instead of going back and forth over the phone and instant messaging.”
I shrugged, but nothing about the gesture felt casual. If I didn’t know Cole better, I would have sworn he was blushing. His cheeks were slightly reddened, but the man never blushed.
Seriously, he never, ever blushed.
“Overnight,” he clarified. “There’s metro and bus line work and Theo will be out of town for his niece’s wedding.”
Theo was Cole’s driver. Occasionally, he was my driver, too, when Cole needed me to stay late at the office or visit the estate to help host a charity event.
“Right.” My head did a little bob as I refused to think about the possibilities generated by my staying overnight at Cole’s mansion outside the city limits. “I made arrangements for the wedding gift you requested and booked Theo’s flight.”
“Good.” Smiling, he clicked on the South Bend folder then reached for the print outs I had placed on his desk. “Shall we say nine in the morning? That should give you enough time to pack for the weekend and plenty of beauty sleep.”
Tilting his head, he looked up at me, pure mischief dancing in his eyes.
**********
I left the office a little after seven. Upon arriving home, I didn’t set about packing. Instead, I flipped open my laptop, fired her up and immediately opened a search engine.
Sleeping Beauty Productions
My heart slowed in my chest as the first results page filled with kink site after kink site.
Slumbering Sluts ... While She Sleeps ...
The list of blush-inducing URLs went on until I found the studio’s website. I clicked through the categories until I found the Sweet Titania film, which wasn’t actually named such. I opened the page, then clicked on the link for the actor that looked so much like Cole.
Dirk Pounder...
A giggle bubbled up my throat, the sound as embarrassed as it was effervescent. Knowing I wore a stupid grin on my face, I searched through his credits on the site, my breath catching on one titled The CEO and the Sleeping Secretary.
Can I have a “Hell yes?”
I grimaced my way through paying the thirty dollars to download the film. With the video loading, I carried my laptop into my bedroom, opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a large black velvet bag. Propping the laptop on some pillows, I wiggled out of my underwear and skirt.
I crouched on the bed, my pussy so wet I didn’t need to worry about lube as I slid the nine-inch latex dildo out of its bag. As I always do, I blushed to see the thick shaft and the base of pseudo-balls that had a flat bottom and ensured that the dildo would remain upright long enough for me to slide my cunt over its textured surface.
With the toy buried inside me, I pressed the play button and stripped the rest of my clothes off as the title screen appeared. Naked, I began to thrust the toy inside me as the honey-haired secretary finished up an exhausting day and collapsed on the couch in her boss’s office.
I released a long, slow breath as a quiver rolled from my cunt up to my scalp, my pussy clenching around the dildo when the boss returned to the office to find his secretary sleeping.
As I watched him unsnap her bra and draw one hard nipple into his mouth, I wasn’t sure how, but I knew I had to find a way to duplicate the events in the movie. I had to have Cole discover me asleep, my clothes amenable to his hands and then his cock exploring my body.
With that thought running through my mind, the first orgasm of a very long night slammed through me.
**********
Checking his watch, Cole shot me a quizzical glance. “You look exhausted, sweetling.”
As I so often do when he calls me “sweetling,” I rolled my eyes at him.
“It’s not even two,” he continued. “You didn’t spend the night worrying about all these families, did you?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug.
He blinked, the gesture slow and sensuous as a smile curved his mouth. “Or were the neighbors up late? Hmmm?”
The smile had turned into a grin best described as salacious, leaving me no room to guess at what he thought the neighbors might have been doing late into the night. Blushing, I demurely avoided his gaze as I answered.
“Maybe.”
My poor neighbors, first suffering through my muffled screams as I fucked myself silly with the dildo and watched two other movies with Dirk and a sleeping beauty and now getting the blame for keeping me up all night!
“Maybe,” he repeated, the low tone dripping with speculation.
My cheeks burning hotter, I tried to execute the first part of my plan by planting an image in his mind. “If I were at home right now, I’d probably be asleep on the couch, whatever book I was reading on the floor.”
I glanced at Cole to find his attention locked on the folder in front of him. A pout pushed my lips forward. He’d gone from teasing me straight back to the MWR folder.
“But I’m here,” I finished dryly as I tapped a few keys on my laptop. “We can cover about a third of the amount from the discretionary--”
The speaker on Cole’s desk buzzed. I stopped talking and he answered it. His housekeeper informed him that the first of the deliveries had arrived. He jumped up from his desk.
“That is a very good start,” he said, already walking toward the door of his home office. He stopped, his hand absently lingering on the door handle as he met my gaze. “This will probably take at least an hour. Since we’ve already found the first third of the funds we need, I won’t be mad if you take a little nap while I deal with this.”
Throwing me a wink, he left the room.
It took a full five minutes before the fog started to lift from my brain. I looked around the big room that served as his study. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall. Facing it was a rather delicate couch. My pussy already wet with anticipation, I rose on shaky legs and approached the piece of furniture.
I slipped off my shoes then eased onto my back. My head pointed towards the door and my feet at the window. I realized that wouldn’t do at all. If I wanted to arouse Cole, I couldn’t make him walk around the couch to look up my skirt.
I flipped directions and folded my hands across my stomach. A few seconds passed before I wondered whether he would notice if I undid a button on my blouse. Half of me was certain he wouldn’t. Not once had I caught Cole Mason looking at my breasts. The other half reminded me that, embarrassed by their fullness, I’d always kept my breasts under cover around him.
My fingers fiddled with the edge of the top button. Unable to decide, I turned my consideration toward the skirt I wore. With the weather warm, I had selected a gauzy broom skirt that fell halfway down my calf but was loose and flowing. Surreptitiously, as if he would return to surprise me at any minute, I inched the hem up until my knees were exposed.
I wiggled against the couch’s firm cushions, searching for the perfect angle at which I should cant my hip or arch my back to emphasize my breasts. Realizing said breasts were starting to heave in anticipation of Cole’s return and certain parts located much lower down my body were growing hot and wet, I tried to turn my mind into a blank slate. No matter how much moaning and heavy breathing the sleeping actresses had demonstrated in the movies Cole watched, I could not expect him to believe I truly was asleep if it looked like I was humping the cushions.
I ran quotes in my head to calm me down. The Tempest came first, the lines so aptly describing my feelings from the first interview with Cole
Hear my soul speak:
The very instant t
hat I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.
My mind moved on until I reached a few lines from Romeo and Juliet that made me think of the full-sized sleeping beauties that filled the secret folders on Cole’s computer.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
Groaning, I pushed the Bard aside and started thinking numbers. How much we needed for the current project, how much I had budgeted for the South Bend project, the seemingly limitless stream of numbers for the art center. The figures pushed down on my brain and my body until I woke surprised to find that I had actually fallen asleep.
Hearing the soft click-clack of fingers moving over a keyboard, I realized that Cole had returned. Slowly, I inventoried my body. I ran a finger across the bands of my bra. My breasts were in place, no sign that they had been fondled. Next I shifted my hips and ran a palm against both of them to find the line of my panties undisturbed.
I flexed my thighs, hoping to find them sore from hands roughly spreading them apart. While my cunt was as hot and wet as when I first settled on the couch, nothing suggested that the aching hole had been explored.
Pouting, I sat up and looked over the back of the chair to find Cole engrossed with whatever file he was looking at on his computer.
Sensing I was awake, he looked up from the screen and grinned at me. “Half way there, but I think the rest will be a real bear to shake loose with this emergency deadline. Might need to transfer some from the corporate account.”
I stood and straightened my clothes before returning to the desk. I needed more time if I wanted to scrub the disappointment from my expression, so I disguised its source instead. “The tax department will have a fit if we draw against plan.”
“Good thing they work for me,” he teased.
“But the board doesn’t,” I reminded him. He might be a billionaire, but a lot of the money was tied up in stock and the other shareholders, most of them Cole’s relatives, were not as eager to spend money on anything other than luxuries they could use.
