Money Shot (52 page)

He makes his way out from behind his desk and comes toward me. Then he sits on the desk facing me, nearly right in front of me.

“I’ve heard about you, obviously,” he says. “You’ve had a few write-ups in your HR file: you’ve been missing meetings and not responding to emails, and, of course, the most recent debacle.”

I know I should say something to defend myself, but part of me is opposed to the idea of making myself look like someone who makes excuses. Blaming Becky would just make me look lame.

I decide to remain quiet for now.

“But I’ve done my research on you, Nicole, and these things don’t fit your profile at all. And looking at you now…something is definitely off. Care to share what’s going on?”

I am frozen by his nearness, to be honest, and I am failing to control my breathing. Embarrassment starts flooding me as I realize he can probably see clear as day that I’m having a hard time with his nearness. The man is just too tantalizing.

“No,” I say, finally looking away to break his hold on me.

“Nicole, if you want to stay here, you’re going to have to do a little bit more than that for me,” he says, his voice lower and more of a growl. Or am I still imagining things?

When I look up at him, his steel eyes are now a burning gray.

He reaches for me and pulls me up from the chair easily, then clasps me to him.

I let out a soft cry in shock at suddenly being against his hard body but soon melt into the enclosure of his arms. Before I know it, his lips are on mine.

I give in to his kiss and get lost in the warmth and electricity between our bodies. He pulls at my lips softly at first, and then his kiss deepens, and he explores my mouth hungrily.

Desire takes over my body completely. I am inexperienced and have not built up defenses against the sensations he is sending through me, and I find myself surrendering to him. Whatever he wants to do to me right there and then, my body has given him permission.

One of his large hands finds its way up my skirt and pulls at the top of my stockings before traveling down to my center, where moisture has gathered.

The touch of his hands there make me buck, and the jolts he sends through me has me panting and softly calling his name in a pitiful beg for him to help me find relief. One of his fingers slip inside of me, and his thumb caresses my bud, making me gasp and pant some more as the tension rises. He works my aching folds and throbbing bud masterfully, and I hold on to him desperately as he fucks me with his fingers. I want to beg him to take things further, but I can only grab on to him as I moan his name.

I try to look at him so he can see the need in my eyes and take pity on me, and then stuff his cock in me, but he holds me so that we can’t look at each other.

I settle into the pleasure of the contact of his fingers on my sensitive, aching female parts, and the way he caresses and massages them works me into a frenzy, sending me on my way to climax. My panting and cries increase as I get closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes, Alan!” I say as I finally orgasm all over his fingers, the beat of it echoing throughout my body.

Though I have reached a pinnacle of pleasure, I still lament his fingers withdrawing from me, and although I sought his eyes before, I find myself avoiding his face once my skirt is pulled back down and our embrace slackened.

As I slowly drift back down to earth, I ask myself silently, what the hell just happened?

“Thank you, Nicole. That’ll be all for today. We will reconvene shortly,” he says, leaning backward on his desk.

When I finally look up at him, he has a twinkle in his eyes, and as if for good measure, he keeps his eyes on me as he brings the hand so recently intimately acquainted with my body to his mouth and seductively sucks his fingers.

Then he turns and make his way back to his desk, sitting down with finality, his eyes back on his work.

Chapter Two

Alan

What in the hell did I just do to myself?

That delicious Nicole is all over my hand, and I can no longer concentrate on any of my other tasks. Her scent lingers even after I have washed her off, and I miss the soft, warm feel of her against me.

This woman has haunted me ever since I laid eyes on her through surveillance when she came in for her job interview, and I have been keeping my eyes on her since. I watched her the whole time through that camera lens, and when she left the interview, I told HR to hire her immediately.

Of course, they had no objections—they wouldn’t dare question me, but beyond that, they could raise no valid point against her—her résumé was far more than sufficient. She had just two and a half years of work experience outside of college, but it didn’t matter—she was clearly capable. Plus, I saw far more than just a new company asset when I looked at her.

I did some further research on her—unnecessary for work, but necessary for my purposes. To my relief, I discovered she is unattached. I am not in the mood to seduce her away from some other man, although I certainly would have gone ahead and done so.

My research uncovered very little history with boyfriends, in fact, and I suspect she is a virgin—she feels particularly tight, and it took everything in my power not to hoist her on my desk and take her right then as I felt her body squeeze my fingers.

I do not deny myself when I want a woman, but I don’t want to rattle this one too much just yet; I need to ease her into my proposition.

I want her to beg me for it by the time I take her, although she was already begging for it today. Still, I need to make her more pliable to my demands.

But damn it, I am still hard and it is to a painful degree; I need relief.

I must take care of it myself for now, and resist calling her back up here. I am a fairly patient man, and can save the rest of what I have for her for tomorrow.

She will go home later this evening and work herself up in fantasies of me, rubbing herself until she comes at the thought of me finally taking her.

She will dream of me, and will eagerly show up to work tomorrow, hoping I call her into my office to continue what we started, and I will, of course, happily oblige.

But since I am not just quenching my desire for her sexually, I won’t risk jumping the gun; I must continue to seduce her into my plan.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she initially opposes my intentions for her—she would have a natural inclination to do so, considering her stock and upbringing. As the child of upper-middle-class parents, she is more privileged than she realizes, and her rearing has made her strong. She is determined to prove she has her own mind, and can forge her own life and path. I am sure she has formulated a solid plan toward that goal, one that doesn’t include subscribing to archaic gender roles and such. One that doesn’t include giving up everything to have a baby for me. She is determined to be a fierce, independent woman, although I suspect she wants a traditional family setup someday.

I learned a lot about her in my research, and right now, she is probably still recovering from the shock at having come so close to surrendering her body to a stranger, but she has no fighting chance against me.

I want that succulent woman to carry my seed and nurture it, and she will happily agree to do so by the time I’m through with her.

I spent the night in agony, but it is a new day, and I have the secretary call Nicole up to me again.

She is trying to look calm as she closes my office door and walks toward me, and it is adorable how mildly frightened she is. Or nervous, I should say, as she should be.

She knows what’s coming, and probably doesn’t want to look too desperate for it, but if she’s as inexperienced as I think she is, she is intimidated by the unknown.

She is dressed sharply as always, wearing a skirt again today. Good girl.

I watch her face as I stand and move from behind my desk to go to her.

Her lovely, painted lips are parted, and her eyes widen a bit. Perhaps I will torture her a bit longer.

“Sit down,” I say as I lean against my desk as I did yesterday. Her brown eyes watch me warily as she comes within inches of me to maneuver into the chair and then sits.

I stare at her chest and see that her breaths are coming quickly, and I am soon distracted by the swells of her heaving breasts.

I had a rough time the rest of the day yesterday after her visit, and all of last night, but now that she is here, I find myself calm instead of on the verge of ripping her clothes off, as I saw myself doing when I imagined this second meeting of ours. I actually feared I would literally tear her clothes to pieces once she was within my reach, and even thought of bringing a change of clothes for her just in case.

“So,” I begin, still leaning casually with my arms folded. “What’s your relationship like with Becky?”

She looks up at me, confused. That’s right, darling. Let your guard down.

She mumbles for a bit before saying, “Fine.”

“Really? You two get along?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but…”

“What are you hiding from me, Nicole?” I say, staring at her intently.

She looks startled, and I enjoy watching her so rattled. She is normally so cool and calm.

“I have my suspicions, but tell me what’s going on between you and her. And don’t try to downplay it—I have all sorts of eyes and ears about this place. And beyond.”

She lets out a heavy breath as she looks down. “I suspect she has been sabotaging me, sir.”

‘Sir’ again? Really?

“I told you to call me by my name,” I say roughly as I pull her up from that chair and grab her close to me.

She is mine immediately—I can tell by the way she briefly closes her eyes.

The softness of her breasts against me stir me further, and my cock starts nudging me to find its way inside of her. But not just yet.