New York Nights
Page 163
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
He bit my shoulder as I said his name, as I shut my eyes once more and realized he was ten times better in reality than any fantasy I’d ever concocted.
He let go of my hair and slid a hand up to my breasts, squeezing them as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to feel your pussy on my cock ever since you started working here....”
I gasped, unable to react as my legs began to shake all over again.
“Michael ... Michael ...”
“Mya ...Mya ...” He mocked me, a slight smile in his voice.
“I ... I ...” I gripped the edge of the desk as he slapped my ass again. He whispered my name as the tremors continued to build inside of me, and I heard him say, “Wait for me,” but I was already there.
My pussy throbbed in pleasure and another orgasm wracked its way through my body, leaving me limp and breathless against the desk. Leaving me wondering just how long he’d fucked me.
Holding me still, he found his own release seconds later, and I struggled to catch my breath.
The two of us remained entwined, and he kissed the back of my neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
“Can I let you go now?”
“No.”
He let out a low laugh and held me against him longer, waiting until I gave him the okay to let me go. Kissing the back of my neck once more, he slowly pulled out of me and tossed the condom into the trash. Then he wrapped his arms around me and spun me around so I was propped against the desk.
As if he could tell I was unable to fully function on my own, he readjusted my dress and helped me into my coat. Then he ran his fingers through my hair and looked me over before picking up my heels and helping me slide into them.
“You should call your driver now,” he said softly, picking up my desk phone from the floor and handing it to me. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”
I nodded and dialed my driver, watching Michael slip into his pants and adjust his tie. His eyes never left mine, and as soon as my driver said, “I’ll be downstairs in five,” I hung up.
Michael handed me my purse and I wobbled on my heels as I attempted to walk—earning a knowing, sexy smile from him. He pulled me against his side and thoughtfully walked me toward the freight elevators so no one would see us.
I avoided looking at him as we rode the elevator. I was in complete and utter shock that I’d actually fucked him, that the leading man in all my fantasies had easily put every single one of those to shame with reality.
When we stepped outside together, I was immediately confused as to why the sky had fallen dark so quickly.
Michael walked me right to the town car and opened the back door, waiting for me to get inside. He looked as if he expected me to say something, but for whatever reason, I could only think of one thing.
“Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Leighton,” I said, not wanting to give the driver any type of impression about what the hell had just happened between us.
“For understanding what, Miss London?”
“That I wasn’t staying until eight o’clock today. Glad we could come to that understanding.”
A slow smile spread across his face and he glanced at his watch. “I think you’re highly misinformed right now, Miss London. It’s nine o’clock.” He took one last look at me and shut the door. “See you Monday.”
THE EMAILS
Mya Subject: I slept with him.
Like, I really slept with him...
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: I slept with him.
You “really” slept with who? The blind date guy?
*And why are you emailing me from a brand new Gmail account?
Your bestie,
Amy
Subject: Re: Re: I slept with him.
My boss....
*Super long story.
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: Re: Re: I slept with him.
What the FUCK? Are you OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND, MYA?
What the hell is wrong with you???
(How was it though ...? :) )
*I like super long stories.
Your bestie,
Amy
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: I slept with him.
It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.
Like, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop replaying it in my mind. And I don’t think I can go back to work on Monday and look at him with a straight face again after this....
I’ll be at your place in five.
Your bestie,
Mya
THE BOSS
Michael Manhattan, New York
My weekend flew by in a restless blur, punctuated by mental replays of fucking Mya in her office. I’d honestly never thought about the same woman after I was finished having sex, but the more I attempted to stop thinking about Mya, the more images of her writhing against my lips came to mind. The more images of her bent over her desk and saying my name invaded my every thought.
Not only that, but I hadn’t heard from her today. She hadn’t answered my “What I Need Today” email with her usual “Okay,” and she was already more than two hours late. I figured she was trying to pull that “I stayed late Friday, so I’m coming late Monday” bullshit, so I decided to think nothing of it.
I tried my best to distract myself until our two o’clock meeting because she knew better than to miss any day of work for the next month since it was acquisition season.
As I was reading through the newest stack of approved book deals, a soft knock came to my door.
“Yes?” I set my papers down, expecting to see Mya, but it was only Brad and a catering delivery guy.
“Morning,” Brad said as he walked over to my desk. “I wanted to come early and treat you and Mya to a late lunch, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” I lied, motioning for the delivery guy to set out the food on my desk.
“Wild weekend?” Brad asked.
“No. What makes you ask that?”
“You look like you’re on edge, like you haven’t slept in days or you’re stressed about something. Or maybe it’s ...” He paused, letting out a long exasperated sigh. “Are you bracing to tell me about an upcoming tabloid story?” He shook his head. “You were doing so well, Michael. So well...”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “And I’m not on edge. If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night and I still have to get through a three-hour session with you and Mya that starts at any moment.”
“Speaking of Mya—” He started to say, but I interrupted him.
“She’s allergic to garlic,” I said to the delivery guy, picking up the basket of bread he’d set down. “Can you replace this with wheat rolls?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this.” I gestured to a bottle of caramel syrup he’d set out. “She’ll think this is hazelnut and have a coughing spell if she drinks a sip of it. Take this as well and bring up chocolate syrup instead.”
“Yes, sir.” He picked up the offending items and headed to the door. “Be right back.”
Brad raised his eyebrow, looking completely confused. “Have you always memorized your assistant’s food preferences?”
“Only the ones who last over a year.”
He let go of my hair and slid a hand up to my breasts, squeezing them as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to feel your pussy on my cock ever since you started working here....”
I gasped, unable to react as my legs began to shake all over again.
“Michael ... Michael ...”
“Mya ...Mya ...” He mocked me, a slight smile in his voice.
“I ... I ...” I gripped the edge of the desk as he slapped my ass again. He whispered my name as the tremors continued to build inside of me, and I heard him say, “Wait for me,” but I was already there.
My pussy throbbed in pleasure and another orgasm wracked its way through my body, leaving me limp and breathless against the desk. Leaving me wondering just how long he’d fucked me.
Holding me still, he found his own release seconds later, and I struggled to catch my breath.
The two of us remained entwined, and he kissed the back of my neck.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
“Can I let you go now?”
“No.”
He let out a low laugh and held me against him longer, waiting until I gave him the okay to let me go. Kissing the back of my neck once more, he slowly pulled out of me and tossed the condom into the trash. Then he wrapped his arms around me and spun me around so I was propped against the desk.
As if he could tell I was unable to fully function on my own, he readjusted my dress and helped me into my coat. Then he ran his fingers through my hair and looked me over before picking up my heels and helping me slide into them.
“You should call your driver now,” he said softly, picking up my desk phone from the floor and handing it to me. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”
I nodded and dialed my driver, watching Michael slip into his pants and adjust his tie. His eyes never left mine, and as soon as my driver said, “I’ll be downstairs in five,” I hung up.
Michael handed me my purse and I wobbled on my heels as I attempted to walk—earning a knowing, sexy smile from him. He pulled me against his side and thoughtfully walked me toward the freight elevators so no one would see us.
I avoided looking at him as we rode the elevator. I was in complete and utter shock that I’d actually fucked him, that the leading man in all my fantasies had easily put every single one of those to shame with reality.
When we stepped outside together, I was immediately confused as to why the sky had fallen dark so quickly.
Michael walked me right to the town car and opened the back door, waiting for me to get inside. He looked as if he expected me to say something, but for whatever reason, I could only think of one thing.
“Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. Leighton,” I said, not wanting to give the driver any type of impression about what the hell had just happened between us.
“For understanding what, Miss London?”
“That I wasn’t staying until eight o’clock today. Glad we could come to that understanding.”
A slow smile spread across his face and he glanced at his watch. “I think you’re highly misinformed right now, Miss London. It’s nine o’clock.” He took one last look at me and shut the door. “See you Monday.”
THE EMAILS
Mya Subject: I slept with him.
Like, I really slept with him...
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: I slept with him.
You “really” slept with who? The blind date guy?
*And why are you emailing me from a brand new Gmail account?
Your bestie,
Amy
Subject: Re: Re: I slept with him.
My boss....
*Super long story.
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: Re: Re: I slept with him.
What the FUCK? Are you OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND, MYA?
What the hell is wrong with you???
(How was it though ...? :) )
*I like super long stories.
Your bestie,
Amy
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: I slept with him.
It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.
Like, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop replaying it in my mind. And I don’t think I can go back to work on Monday and look at him with a straight face again after this....
I’ll be at your place in five.
Your bestie,
Mya
THE BOSS
Michael Manhattan, New York
My weekend flew by in a restless blur, punctuated by mental replays of fucking Mya in her office. I’d honestly never thought about the same woman after I was finished having sex, but the more I attempted to stop thinking about Mya, the more images of her writhing against my lips came to mind. The more images of her bent over her desk and saying my name invaded my every thought.
Not only that, but I hadn’t heard from her today. She hadn’t answered my “What I Need Today” email with her usual “Okay,” and she was already more than two hours late. I figured she was trying to pull that “I stayed late Friday, so I’m coming late Monday” bullshit, so I decided to think nothing of it.
I tried my best to distract myself until our two o’clock meeting because she knew better than to miss any day of work for the next month since it was acquisition season.
As I was reading through the newest stack of approved book deals, a soft knock came to my door.
“Yes?” I set my papers down, expecting to see Mya, but it was only Brad and a catering delivery guy.
“Morning,” Brad said as he walked over to my desk. “I wanted to come early and treat you and Mya to a late lunch, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” I lied, motioning for the delivery guy to set out the food on my desk.
“Wild weekend?” Brad asked.
“No. What makes you ask that?”
“You look like you’re on edge, like you haven’t slept in days or you’re stressed about something. Or maybe it’s ...” He paused, letting out a long exasperated sigh. “Are you bracing to tell me about an upcoming tabloid story?” He shook his head. “You were doing so well, Michael. So well...”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “And I’m not on edge. If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night and I still have to get through a three-hour session with you and Mya that starts at any moment.”
“Speaking of Mya—” He started to say, but I interrupted him.
“She’s allergic to garlic,” I said to the delivery guy, picking up the basket of bread he’d set down. “Can you replace this with wheat rolls?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this.” I gestured to a bottle of caramel syrup he’d set out. “She’ll think this is hazelnut and have a coughing spell if she drinks a sip of it. Take this as well and bring up chocolate syrup instead.”
“Yes, sir.” He picked up the offending items and headed to the door. “Be right back.”
Brad raised his eyebrow, looking completely confused. “Have you always memorized your assistant’s food preferences?”
“Only the ones who last over a year.”
