Under My Boss's Authority (Under Him)

“…Right.”

Despite its size, the kitchen was easy to move in. Everything set up with perfect logic once you learned the system. The selection of food was fairly random, but I’d gotten used to improvising.

I’d never seen Grandma meet an ingredient she couldn’t work in somehow. Even ghost pepper on one memorable occasion. I wasn’t quite at her level of skill, lacking about fifty years of practice, but still did my best. Pulling together a serviceable fry up. “I wish you’ve let me help,” Hugo said, as I brought the plates to the table.

“You’d have been taking your life in your hands. I move fast, and often with sharp objects.”

“Even so,” he protested, “I like to feel useful.”

“Even at the risk of your life?” I challenged.

“Apparently, given recent history.”

Temptation burned. Threatening to slide the flesh from my bones. Yet, I remained silent. There were some things it was best not to probe. It would have been a reasonable question, had I asked it.

I just wanted Hugo to tell me in his own time, if at all. I had wondered at his mild nature. How it could cohabitate with such darkness as I’d already found in his pages. I didn’t want to upset that balance.

“Sit, dishes are my domain,” he ordered, gathering the cutlery on to the already stacked plates.

“Yes, sir.”

But as he walked from the room, a childish fear overtook me and I didn’t want to be in the dining room alone. I’d somehow developed an isolation anxiety, despite having no idea how.

Entering the kitchen as quietly as I could, I watched in silence as Hugo cleaned, dried and put away. The silverware was already drying on the tea towel set under the dish rack. I couldn’t help but observe how the muscles moved under his Oxford cloth shirt. So neatly tucked into charcoal gray Perry Ellis slacks.

He wasn’t really dressed up, but always managed to look incredibly good with what he wore. I would have to get him to teach me sometime.

He turned to face me. Making it clear he’d known I was there all along. Not much got past him really.

“What would you like for dessert?”

“I have a few ideas.”

Crossing the gap in what seemed like nanoseconds, I had my hands in his hair and my tongue in his mouth. Standing on my tip-toes, cold stone under my bare feet, so I could reach him. As the hunger in my belly was sated, another arose, making equally powerful demands.

Hugo, my hero, answered the call. Taking me into his arms, to carry me up to our bed chamber. Like something from a Romance novel. A fun one with a painted cover featuring Fabio.

I was conflicted. Hugo started kissing my neck as soon as he got me on the bed. Holding me gently like the beautiful lover he was. It felt amazing, though my immediate concern was with trying to get my damn pants off. The heat between thighs was getting to the approximate intensity of a fucking blast furnace.

“Here.”

In what felt like a single movement, I was naked below the waist. The cool air heaven on my wet, aching pussy.

“Better?”

“Much!”

He went back to necking me, his hand finding its way between my legs to softly relieve the built up tension.

The orgasm arrived like a snow storm, unexpected and fierce, shaking me to my core and making me howl as I came. Mad intensity slowly way to a satisfied calm, Hugo continuing to stroke my outer lips as I melted.

I felt a tugging on the bottom of my shirt. Instinctively I lifted my arms. Hugo pulled my tank top up over my head. He unfastened my bra from the front, which I didn’t even know it could do. Naked and vulnerable to his every desire, I did my best to lay still as Hugo made his way southward. Opening my legs in welcome as he approached.

Fireworks went off in my head as his tongue made first contact. It was like he pressed a button to trigger all my pleasure centers at once. Letting the first few, slow licks ring, he started to go faster, pressing his lovely tongue even harder against my eager lips.

I wanted as much as I could possibly get. Even if some of it felt a bit weird at first. Hugo had never done anything to hurt me and I wanted him to feel at liberty to try anything he liked.

He let loose the shapes. Figure eights. Tight spirals. What felt like a star and a bevy of others I couldn’t readily identify. My mind was somewhat occupied with the technicolor explosions of pleasure going off every second behind my eyes.

My body shuddered. A natural response to the chemical reactions brought on by sexual contact. Though it felt like a miracle. Something not of the mortal plane that I had lucked onto by accident. It was difficult to believe there were people who felt this way often. Or at least when they had sex. It seemed so beautiful as to be impossible.