Perfect Boss

My pussy is drenched and his fingers easily glide in and out of my silky entrance. His expert touch pushes me into a lightheaded euphoric state of wonder. My knees shake as my g-spot is stroked in an even rhythm. Not fast enough to make me come just yet, but keeping me right on the verge.

Marcus kneels between my legs, keeping his fingers moving as he wraps his hot mouth onto my hard clit. I thought it couldn’t get any better than his fingers inside of me, but I was so wrong. He goes back and forth, replacing his fingers with his tongue, focusing completely on my pleasure.

“Your pussy tastes so sweet,” he says before using the tip of his tongue to swirl my clit. His words send a shiver through me.

His tongue moves slowly and softly at first, then fast and furious, then back to slow. It’s a constant rollercoaster ride of pleasure. Just when he gets me to a point where I’m afraid there’s no going back, he slows down and my orgasm subsides like a patient beast slinking back into the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” I tell him. It’s more of a command than a suggestion.

The side of his mouth quirks up, and he crawls up from between my legs, lips shimmering in the dim light with my juices. He kneels in front of me and I have to stretch my mouth wide to fit him in, making sure to relax my throat so I don’t gag on him. Either way, it’s going to be hard not to.

I like the feeling of him in my mouth, the look on his face while he’s there. His eyes look heavy, dreamy. There’s a strangled sound in his throat as I work the underside of his cock with my tongue.

He holds the back of my head, pushing his cock deeper down my throat. “God, your mouth feels amazing,” he says. The lust-filled look on his face is so fucking sexy I almost come then and there without him even touching me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. His eyes close and he looks like he’s trying really hard not to lose himself to my mouth. “I wanted you from moment you ran into me.”

His words stun me for a moment. It’s a good thing he’s the one thrusting forward, or I might’ve stopped. He wanted me from the moment I ran into him? Before he knew I was his employee? My mind starts to move a million miles an hour. Nagging questions flare up. Did he want this all along? Here I was, thinking that being with him was just a fluke, and he only picked me to pretend to be his wife because I was desperate after losing my house. Was there more to it? Did he pick me because he was attracted to me?

He reaches down and starts rubbing my clit again and all thoughts evaporate instantly. Nothing enters my head except what is happening here and now.

He starts to fuck my face fast. “Damn, you’re good at that.”

He pulls out long enough for me to catch my breath. A bead of pre-cum on the smooth head glistens in the dim lights. I lick it off with the tip of my tongue and suck his cock back into my mouth.

“Wait, wait,” he says, panting, then pulls out of my mouth. “I was about to come.”

He kisses my now empty mouth, then moves down to my breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Once he gives the other a little attention, he kisses his way up my chest and to my mouth again. He breaks the kiss and looks me in the eyes. The look he gives me is so sweet and gentle and loving that I feel a tightness in my chest.

He kisses me long and deep. I can taste myself on his lips and on his perfect tongue. He then positions himself on top of me, reaches between his legs, grabs his thick cock and guides himself into me.

I moan into his open mouth and run my fingers down the hard plains of his back as he slowly goes deeper. He stares into my eyes the entire time, his smile sending a shiver through me.

He starts a steady rhythm, then picks up speed. He knows exactly how to move his hips, how to make me feel every inch of him. I’m clawing at his back now, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl beneath his skin, wanting him beneath mine until we’re one in the same.

Now he’s fucking me me fast and hard, making my tits jiggle and bounce. Our slapping skin rings out in the quiet room. The headboard crashes into the wall. If his neighbors can’t hear my screams, they can definitely hear that. I wouldn’t be surprised if we dent the wall or even break through the drywall after the beating it takes.

He lifts my legs, bringing my knees to my chest. This new angle causes him to drive into me as deep as my body will allow. I scream as my first orgasm rips through me. He pounds me until I see nothing but stars in front of my eyes and keeps at it until I see nothing at all.

I’m not normally this loud in bed, but the way he touches me, the depths he reaches, it’s as if I don’t have a mind of my own. The sounds just come out and I have no control of my own body.

He pulls out suddenly and I want to demand that he put it back, but then he rolls me over, and puts a hand on my stomach, lifting me onto my hands and knees, then pushes into me from behind. I gasp as he bottoms out, pushing me to my limit. Again, I cry out.

“God, yes, just like that,” I say, rocking into him. “Harder,” I say.

He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, plunging deep inside of me.

Holy shit. Everything is sensitive, reactive. The second orgasm building up feels explosive. When it happens, it’s going to be mind-blowing.

Our skin slaps together at a furious beat. My orgasm starts in my core and radiates up my spine and down my arms, into my legs until it reaches my fingers and toes. My entire body starts to shake. The sounds Marcus makes become more animalistic, grunting and growling as he comes closer to release.

“Oh, fuck,” he says

With one more desperate thrust, he digs his fingers into my ass cheeks and releases his load inside of me.

When he’s done we’re both panting and spent. He kisses my shoulder. As I lie next to him, I’m not sure what to say. He seems perfectly content not saying anything. He just lies there, looking at me, touching my skin, and caressing me. His mannerisms show all the symptoms of actual affection, but I know that’s not the case. It can’t be. He hired me to do a job.

I hate to admit it, but when I look at him, everything inside of me comes to life. I’m terrified about what that means. Anytime he’s near, there’s a warmth that runs through my veins, a flutter that comes to my stomach, a yearning between my legs at the thought of touching him. These feeling are turning into something I’m not sure I can control. Am I falling for him?

I try to shake the thoughts from my head. I can’t be falling for Marcus Steere. It would never work. He’s Him—smart, sexy, powerful, and very, very wealthy. And, well, I’m me. I can be smart, and on occasion I can be sexy, but powerful and wealthy I am not.

The way he’s watching me right now is so confusing. I’ve never had anyone look at me that way before, not even men who have claimed to love me in the past. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him and say, ‘Please stop looking at me that way.’ Not because I don’t want him to, but because it gets my hopes up. My rational mind tells me that it could never happen, but the romantic side of me wonders what it would be like if we fell in love.

“Do you know when my clothes will be ready? I’m going to need something to wear to work tomorrow,” I say to try and get rid of these childish romantic thoughts.

He takes his hand off my shoulder, and when he does, all I want is for him

to be touching me again, even though it’s confusing as hell.

“They won’t be ready for some time, but I have something else,” he says.

He gets out of bed. I can’t help but ogle his gorgeous muscular ass as he slips his boxers on and goes to a wardrobe in the corner of the room, the kind that the new clothes come in when they get to the store. They’re on a rack, encased in plastic. He unzips one and pulls out a stunning black dress with gold accents.

My jaw drops and I sit up. He opens several more of the bags, revealing equally fabulous clothes made of expensive fabric and expert tailoring.

I get out of bed too, forgetting I’m naked at first, then slip on the t-shirt I was wearing. The boxers stay off since they are still wet, but that’s okay because the shirt is plenty long enough to cover all the important stuff.

“These are incredible,” I say, reaching for the dress, but then I pause before it’s in my hands. “Did these belong to your ex-wife?”

I know I’m just pretending to be his wife in public, but to be seen in her clothes would feel like a slap in the face, to me and to her. I don’t want people to look at me and think I’m just some second-rate version trying to literally fill her shoes. A younger, cheaper replacement part in his life.

“No, these are samples from the line of women’s clothing I’ll be adding to my collection. I’ve changed the designs a bit to fit the budget. These are the originals, and my favorites. They’re yours now. You’ll look stunning. You have the perfect body for them.”

The compliment heats every inch of my body because I know he’s staring at me.

Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m going to be wearing a Marcus Steere original. When I applied for the job at his company, I was obsessed with fashion and I wanted to be part of a company that I believed in—I still do believe in the company, but I wasn’t feeling like men’s fashion was the right place for me anymore. The only reason I stayed was because there had been rumors he was going to have a woman’s line eventually, and I wanted to be on the ground floor for when it happened. Of course, back then, I thought I would be further ahead in my job, working alongside the designers. That’s what I went to school for, after all. Now that I see the clothing, I’m even more excited to be a part of it. And even more excited that I get to wear the clothes that were part of his original ideas.