Knocked Up by the C.E.O (Knocked Up)

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Dylan may not know it yet, but I’m not going to let her get away from me.

“Good morning.” She pulls herself together and walks towards her desk, my eyes watching as her hips sway with each step. Unknowingly torturing me the entire time, and don’t get me started on when she turns around to place her things in the bottom drawer. Christ, I’m a pervert.

“If you have those reports, I’ll take them now. I’d like to get the ball rolling on what’s going on and what all we can do to cut it off at the head,” I tell her once she’s finally sitting down on her chair.

“I have them. Took me till well after three o’clock this morning to compile all the ones from the last twelve months. If you need them further out, I’m going home to get some shuteye before I’ll work on it.” This time when she looks at me, I notice the circles under her eyes. I look at my watch seeing it’s half till eight this morning, which means she is running on three hours of sleep, and I’m not having that.

I stand up, moving towards her in no time, my hand cupping her cheek. “Mr. Maxwell, we shouldn’t be doing this.” Except, those words may have slipped from her lips, but the way she nuzzles into my palm is telling me something else.

“None of that mister stuff. I’m Wesley to you, and this will be happening, Dylan. I let you leave last night without us talking. It won’t happen again, okay?” I respond, not stepping away from her.

“I’m not sure this is the wisest idea. It’s the whole cliché, the whispered chattering that will go one behind my back and closed doors. And even though I was an administrative assistant before you came here, that doesn’t mean people won’t talk.” She’s not wrong, but that’s not going to hold me back, and it shouldn’t her either.

“We’ll talk about this later.” I kiss her forehead, hearing her sigh beneath me, and I know this isn’t over, not for her at least.

“I’m not kidding. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She pulls away from me, grabbing the paperwork I had her work on.

“I’m not giving up, not with the way you seem to melt beneath my touch. I’d be a fool to do so. Now, turn the phones to the answering service and go close your eyes for a couple of hours. I have a feeling it’ll be another late night, and I’ll need you well and truly rested.” I drop my hand to her shoulder, grazing her arm until it meets her hand before I’m helping her up.

“Great, I’m relegated to the dungeon,” she jokes.

“I guess there’s something to be said about Hodges decorating it like a cave. You won’t have the sun beating down on you.” Though that won’t be too much longer.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you tell me to get some sleep, which is such an alpha male thing to do, and I’m apparently delirious for allowing this.” She’s not the only one, but I’m taking this as a win. We walk into my office. She immediately veers to the couch, already taking off her heels and flopping onto the cushions. I head back to where I took off my suit jacket, seeing as there are no blanket to be found. I’m only gone for a minute at most, but there Dylan is, lying on the couch, one arm flung over her eyes, one leg cocked to the side, and breathing as if she’s asleep.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” I murmur as I lay my jacket on top of her, my thumb sliding down her cheek. Dylan’s other hand grabs my jacket as she inhales deeply then curls into it. Fuck, I’m really regretting allowing her to leave last night. I can think of other things to make her this tired besides work. That’ll have to wait until she’s got some sleep. When she wakes up, I’ll be making it known just what will be happening between the two of us.

Seven

Dylan

“Wes,” I moan. My eyes are closed. I’m in the comfort of my bed. One hand is cupping my breast, my thumb and pointer finger pinching and pulling at my nipple through the lace. My other is deep inside my pants. I must have really been tired if I came home from work and took a nap without getting out of my work clothes. The wetness that coats my fingers has me reaching for my orgasm at a fevered pace. I slide two fingers inside my center, grinding down on the palm of my hand, so close yet needing something else. I wish like hell Wesley really were here, his mouth on mine. My fingers would be his cock, and I’d be grinding down on him with every forward thrust.