Cassie's Chance (7 page)

Bound to Submit

Part
Two
of a Series with
Ashton Finn
and
Eartha Keane
.

Read an excerpt:

Finn returned to her on the subway, large in her mind, and she played with the ends of her hair on her half-hour commute while gazing at her reflection in the darkened windows.

Could there be something he didn't like about her?

"Eartha, you still haven't given me your notes on the Stephenson summary." Her secretary Deidre had her head around the door and a frown on her face. "You know Marty said he wanted it done today."

With a start, Eartha realized that it was the second time Deidre had asked her about the report she should have read and annotated by lunchtime. Normally, if given something straightforward before nine - and Stephenson's work was in that category - she had it finished by ten.

Normally. The report lay on her desk, only half read. In her defence, there'd been two long meetings and a briefing. But it was after two. She'd found pie-charts turned into Finn's face when she looked at them too hard. And she had to look at them hard when checking for omissions. It wasn't very interesting work.

"I'll be finished shortly, Deidre, thank you."

Analytical Eartha gave herself a kick. Damn the man. Enough day-dreaming. She had to work. She ripped off the doodled-on desk-pad sheet and circular filed it.

But of course she thought about him on way home, and in bed where she came twice calling his name, and the next morning before their Partners and Associates meeting, during which she guessed she looked slightly out-of-it, because Marty asked if everything was all right.

She imagined him naked, erect, as he drove his hard cock into her - she caught herself reacting constantly - and was afraid someone would sniff out the reason she was distracted. There was always gossip in the firm about relationships formed or broken. Eartha had never been the subject of it and didn't want to be.

She kept to herself as much as she could, and stayed a table's distance from her colleagues at lunch.

Finn was too new and raw, and whatever they had was too altogether awkward. She didn't want to share even a rumor of him. What did they have? She asked herself that question more than once.

Sanity had returned on Friday when she woke. She was over it. If he'd been interested, he would have called, or responded to her messages.
Or something. And he hadn't.

She wore a new blouse. She had two meetings planned, with Marty and prospective clients.
Easy ones; straightforward. She was determined to help him replace the income they'd lost. She enjoyed demonstrating her command of the background issues, and could fill in blanks well. And it went all right until their second prospect used the word 'cross' quite innocently and it all flooded back, into both mind and pussy.

After that, Finn's blond mop wouldn't leave her. She lost the point she was making, and flushed hot. Surely it was visible. It was a day she was very thankful for dark skin.

"Are you ok, Eartha?" Marty asked, while they were doing the post-mortem over coffee after their meeting wrapped.

Eartha admitted to feeling out-of-sorts, which was entirely true, but what she did for herself in the women's rest room a few minutes later had nothing to do with an upset stomach.

She felt foolish leaving him another message, but she did.

Meetings done, she debated calling Sam. She drew a St Andrew's
Cross on her desk-pad, usually an immaculate white space, but it had been well-used this week. A bit like her, she reflected. God, he had been good. She hadn't seen him for five days and wanted to see his smile.

She shrugged at no-one. It was almost late enough she could legitimately go home, and she'd been about to, as she couldn't concentrate on anything meaningful. But then he did call. Finally he did, in a moment when she wasn't thinking about him at all.

"How are you, my little slut?", he crooned, and the sharp retort she nearly made, because he'd kept her hanging, worrying, and wondering, turned to a purr.

She nearly melted at the sound of his voice. She leaned back in her chair, imagining his arms around her.

"Say my name," was his velvety command.

"Finn" she started to say, but it came out a soft and sibilant 'Master', to her relief.

"That's my little slut," he said warmly, then proceeded to dom her over the phone, spending an hour telling her where and how he was using her, alternately forbidding and then commanding her to touch herself, until she was ready to explode for need of him.

In the middle of it, she waved Deidre good night and the office fell largely quiet around her.

She decided to be bold. "When are you going to fuck me?"

Get
Bound to Submit
here:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F2WX8JG/