Marquise

Ten minutes later, Grigori Petrovich and I are great friends. I’ve laughed at a video of his four-year-old granddaughter, Katya, singing a Spice Girls song and dancing with her cat. He’s also shown me pictures of his wife, Glenda and all of his children, grandchildren, and his one great grandson born two weeks ago. He’s nearing seventy and is about the sweetest old man I’ve ever met. When he looks at his wife’s picture, you can tell how much he loves her. It radiates off of the man.

“Listen to me, go on. I am sure you have some work to do and I can wait quietly.”

“No, really. I can sort the mail and listen to your wonderful stories, Grigori,” I say laughing.

“If you are sure?” he questions.

“Of course,” I say reaching out and patting his forearm. He puts his liver-spotted hand over mine and begins to tell me the story of how he met his wife. His Russian accent is heavy and comforting.

“So, I said, you’ll have dinner with me tonight, krasivaya-” Of course, that is the moment Marquise opens his office door. My eyes reach his and I can tell he’s pissed. If he were a cartoon, he’d be shooting steam out of his ears. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’s mad. Maybe his phone call didn’t go as expected…I frown. It upsets me that he’s upset. What the hell is that about?

“Ah, Marquise,” Grigori says, standing. He kisses Marquise’s cheeks before they shake hands.

“Greg, please forgive me. Something has come up. Do you have some time on Monday? We can go over everything then?” Marquise says.

“Of course, of course.”

“I apologize for the short notice and for keeping you waiting,” Marquise says, clenching his fists at his side.

“Nonsense, dear boy. Nonsense. I’ve spent the better part of an hour chatting with your lovely new assistant.”

“Let me walk you out,” Marquise replies, practically growling. If Grigori notices, he doesn’t say anything. I stand and extend my hand to him, which he takes. Why the hell is he being so rude?

“It was lovely to meet you dear. Until next week,” Grigori says, grabbing his hat off the edge of my desk and putting it back on. I watch as he and Marquise walk to the elevator. Marquise hits the button and they talk while they wait for it to arrive. Grigori leaves and Marquise walks back to my desk, angry as ever.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, not sure I really want to know the answer.

“Get your ass in my office, now,” he bellows. Ingrid and Stacey, the temp assigned to Princeton’s office, both look up. I blush, before getting up and following him like a kicked puppy.

What the hell did I do to warrant such a reaction? I don’t have much time to wonder before he slams and locks the door behind me.

Oh shit! Why is that so hot?Chapter FifteenMarquise“What the FUCK was that out there?” I find myself yelling at her as I walk towards her. She backs up and bumps into my desk.

“I thought I was doing my job. I was entertaining your client as he waited for you. Who, by the way is a genuinely nice GRANDPA?” She enunciates the word, making sure to insinuate I am being ridiculous. The thing is I know, but I can’t help myself. It doesn’t matter who is looking, talking, or touching her, even for something as simple as a handshake, I find it a threat to my claim on her. Her hands are behind her on my desk as she looks up at me. The expression on her face, for once is a look I cannot read.

“Your desk is being moved into my office, as of now.” I hear myself being irrational and childish, but I cannot stop the words from leaving my mouth.

“Marquise are you being serious right now?” she asks. A hint of disbelief and incredulity in her voice. Moving further into her, I put my hand between her legs, sliding up until I reach the destination. I move her panties aside and penetrate her wet pussy with my fingers.

“When it comes to you, Goddess, I am always serious.” Our tongues slide against each other in perfect harmony. My fingers continue their expedition in and out of her pussy. No… my pussy.

“I don’t like men smiling at you. I don’t fucking share.” I tell her before my mouth latches on to her neck marking her for all to see. My fingers speed the in and out movement in her pussy, needing her to scream her release into my mouth. I need the reassurance that she is mine and only mine. She is scratching at my back, while my mouth works on her and the rest of her skin that is showing. I feel her pussy starting to squeeze my finger and know she is about to gush all over my hands. “Come, baby. Now.”