Copyright © Nicole Austin, 2017
“Oh God. Right there. Yesss.”
The loud smack of flesh on flesh registers before the sting reverberates through my right ass cheek, followed quickly by a wave of heat. The slap amps up my arousal and has a fresh gush of juices spilling from my pussy onto the already damp desk blotter.
It’s so wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this, but I love it. Every decadent second of forbidden…
Hell, I don’t even know what to call it. Kyler Harrington isn’t my boyfriend. We aren’t dating or in any kind of relationship. He’s a complete asshole and I don’t even like him. I wouldn’t even call him a fuck buddy. I’m the intern who he just happens to fuck. Yet I thrill in the rebellious act of fucking him right under his father’s nose while on the clock at work.
I’m not even sure how I ended up bent over his father’s desk, pencil skirt bunched up around my hips, bare ass thrust up high with my boss’s massive cock pummeling my pussy.
Perhaps I should backtrack and explain this crazy situation I’ve found myself in.
Kyler Harrington was the high school senior year crush I couldn’t have.
I was the popular girl everyone wanted as a friend. The prim and proper head of all the important activities—yearbook, homecoming committee, debate club, cheerleading and powderpuff football. And I was a good girl.
Kyler, on the other hand, was the new guy at school. Being a new transfer student halfway through senior year is the kiss of death socially so there was no common ground. He was also a motorcycle riding bad boy with long hair and a leather jacket who found his way between the legs of every easy slut.
So yeah, he never even noticed me while I was painfully aware of him from the first moment I laid eyes on him.
Fast forward eight years and I show up for my first day interning at Harrington International—his father’s company—to find my living, breathing, high school bad boy fantasy is now my boss. There’d been a wicked gleam sparkling in those sexy green eyes when we were introduced. While I tried to be professional and keep my lust under wraps, he did nothing to hide the fact he wanted me.
Every time we were in a room together the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. He eye-fucked me during meetings and took advantage of any opportunity to touch me. On day one it started with his fingers brushing mine as I handed over a document. Things rapidly advanced to the lingering warmth of his hand against my leg as he sat down next to me and leaned into my personal space to speak with a colleague.
By the end of my first week he blatantly and boldly guided me into a meeting with his hand on the small of my back. While I focused on the presentation, his fingers found my knee under the table, instantly heating my blood. Slowly and deliberately, his touch teased along the side of my thigh before moving back to my knee.
No sooner had I sighed in relief and relaxed back into my chair than his touch boldly moved to my inner thigh, devilish fingers gliding higher and higher until he traced the hem of my skirt while I held my breath, telling myself he wouldn’t. As his hand slid beneath the material, I startled and nearly spilled a full mug of coffee. Only Kyler’s quick reflexes saved us both from being drenched with the hot liquid.
Of course, he’d used his free hand, reaching across me to steady the mug, which brought him closer. My head swam as each rapid breath filled my lungs with his musky scent, and his body heat enveloped me. When his fingertips glided over the damp silk covering my swollen pussy, I jumped up and made the excuse of needing a bathroom break. I’m not sure his father bought it considering the knowing smile he shot in my direction.
I tried to discourage him. Really, I did. But Kyler was a man on a mission. His relentless pursuit wore me down by the end of my second week when he cornered me in a cleaning supply room. Our first time happened against the wall of the dark, musty room, one of his hands covering my mouth to keep me quiet, the other under my ass, holding me up as he fucked me senseless. I said no, repeatedly.
Especially when he asked me if I wanted him to stop.