{Keira}

 

I breathe a shred of lustfulness mixed with the feeling of being trapped into my own emotions and insecurity and look at the man above me. He’s built in muscles and strength and I think I’m being holed up to his lure.

“Keira, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve caught myself thinking of how your pussy might feel like. I guess we’re about to find out.”

I cannot believe the words coming out of his mouth. Had he really been thinking about me? I don’t know how to feel—flattered? Scared? I guess you never know with Cason. He’s the perfect fantasy of every girl. The sexy prince who comes and rescues you from a frightening night. But, then again, that’s all he is…a fantasy.

I bet he even said these words to have me down for whatever. But I am already down. No, I mean literally. I’m straighten up against the bed, as he is lowering his back to kiss me again, his hands gluing mine against the sheets. I give in to his kiss and even to his clutch. That’s how he must be wanting me. Obeying. Controllable. Malleable.

And I am. Uncontestably. As if I’m under his spell and his allure has already captivated me. After his tongue has been exploring every inch of my month, his lips move in on my jaw to hop up in a jiffy towards my breasts, removing my bra—which he’s managed to unhook beforehand—with his teeth.

Now I find myself totally exposed to the enchantment that is this man. I’m feeling the pressure around my legs, when he’s softly licking my navel point. His chin is moving slowly in accordance with his open mouth, and eventually is tangling with parts of my body that are overly sensitive especially to his touch. His tongue maunders expertly over my clit and I moan, toes ingraining prints to the sheets, hands clutching the pillow for comfort. But there is no escape from this pleasure. It’s torturous, it’s amazing. The kind of pleasure only a man like him could provide.

I arch my legs, while his head between them is showing me what ultimate sex must feel like. He realizes he’s having me under control (and I bet he enjoys that a lot) only with his mouth, and he ceases for a moment. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. He grabs my legs huskily and divides them. And I hear the sound of a belt unbuckling. The zipper of his jeans heaving down. The skimpy underwear roll down and his cock wells out forcefully.

Wow! Should I be concerned?

I guess the worrying aura on my face is a major praise to him. That’s why he’s flashing my way his that’s-what-always-happens smile.

But seriously, how would he manage to fit all that inside of me? I figured he must have a really big cock, but when I thought of ‘big’ I had in mind the common 8-inch-ish stamp, and not the ‘is a cock supposed to be that huge’ concern that he’s presenting me with.

Cason rubs his cock with one hand twice along his length and with his flashing white teeth tears off the wrapper of the condom he’s drawn out of the back pocket of his jeans before he threw them away on the floor. He spits the little shred of wrapper away and rolls the condom over his erection. I don’t know why I’m getting so agitated by this. My heart sinks as he’s poking the tip of his cock over my clit. It’s a muddle of emotions, really. And it’s about to happen, again. This man is going to be inside, but this time around, I’m nowhere near feeling intoxicated and I’m gonna perceive this hot drive on the fullest.

He’s pushing slowly forward until the head is lurking inside me; soon enough his entire length permeates within me, but he’s being gentle. He’s giving me time to familiarize with his monster-sized cock. But after a few pumps, I know he’s not going to be that gentle. And somehow, I don’t want him to. I realize that as he’s gaining speed and fucking me mercilessly.

Our bodies feel so familiar. They long for each other. He’s still keeping my legs apart in the air with a fierce clutch. His hands are so strong and so in accordance with his body type. His cock yanks out and I can see the head leaning above my pussy. He pushes two fingers within me and keeps whacking me hard.

I moan.

He brings the fingers out and glares at them with a smile.

“See how wet you are for me, Ms. Akerson? I knew you’d be a good girl.” He puts both his fingers in his mouth and sucks them juicily. I stare at him with a little gain of pride inside me. He seems like he’s been wanting to take a taste at me for a while now. And he’s enjoying what he’s getting. My ego, ironically, is flattered.

His fingers move toward my mouth now and they stop near my lips. I willingly peel them open to take the fingers in. Cason’s letting me savor how I taste like. And after that I realize he’s whacking my mouth as if it was a snatch.

His cock seems to enjoy that, growing mercilessly to the largest it could get. Grabbing it on his hand, Cason directs it on my entrance.

I feel him inside me again and it seems like I can’t get enough more and more he’s moving fiercely in on me. I just wish that for a moment this was all real. I wish he were mine and we’d get to do that forever. I never felt this strong for a man before. And it’s strange that I do for him.

“Tell me how you like me inside of you…” He looks at me with a pleasurable smirk on the face, while he’s holding one leg of mine into the air and the other sideways. “Come on, Keira. Tell me you’ve been dreaming about this too.”

For some reason my mouth is glued as if I’ve dived in a honeypot and can’t get the words out of my mouth. And I do; I want to tell him that controvertibly I’ve been thinking about this too. And yet my mind refuses to obey and makes him wait on me.

“Keira?” The smirk on his face somehow starts to vanquish. “Keira…”

I open my eyes to find me best friend all encumbered upon me. “You were having one of those?” Her eyes sparkle in amusement. “Wet dreams.” She explains after my hesitation.

“Why would you say that?”

“I know everything about it. Discomfort. Pleasure. Insufficiency. Kind of hard to acknowledge how much your body tells about you.”

I don’t seem in the mood to be having this conversation with her right now. Mainly because I just happened to wake up, after the weirdest drowse in a very long time, where I was dreaming of my boss. And I was smashing him.

I would need a minute or two for sure to sort this out on my mind.

“So who was it?” It looks like Maelis wouldn’t keep up with my need of abidance. “Your smoking hot new boss?” God, can she read my mind? “That would explain everything.”

I decide not to cater to her inquisitiveness. But knowing Maelis and her persistent ways, I’m not sure how good this would keep out. Getting up from the couch and combing out the blanket with my foot, I brush the sleepiness off of my eyes with my hands and try to keep up with the new day. There are a lot of questions on my mind right now, but I’m planning on sorting that out after enjoying my morning coffee.

“You probably wouldn’t want to get on with that right this moment,” her voice keeps me from disposing of my morning coffee. How else am I supposed to make sure I wouldn’t be tangling with a rather untenable day? I need my coffee. It’s just my way of tranquilizing my nerves and preparing my mind for whatever surprises the day might slam on my face.

“What do you mean?” I turn around to get a more reasonable explanation. Trying to keep me away from my morning needs—it better be a good one.

“You might wanna attend to something else first.”

“What’s more important than coffee?” Like, pfft, I really doubt Maelis could sidetrack this one. I totally brushed her off.

Or so I think.

“Like, for instance, your boss…” she shrugs excusably.

I almost choke on the first sip of coffee in my mouth. “What did you say?” I ask hurriedly, after I gulp down with difficulty.

“He’s here.”

Maybe I need to brush the sleepiness away from my eyes, or smack my face with a bagful of ice. Did I hear that correctly? Is the hot, unbearable man who I inadmissibly had a one night stand with and who later on decided to chase after me and buy off my company, honoring me with his presence on my home? Now, he’s got the right qualities to qualify as a stalker.

“Morning, Ms. Akerson.” I hear the voice that almost makes me jump off my own skin and turn around. He’s standing there, all 6’2” of impeccable huskiness. And I’m not, let’s just say, on the best of my days.

“C-Cason?” I mumble, foolishly. “Hmm, I mean, Mr. Cardenas. What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, Ms. Akerson. Glad to see you’ve had your fair share of indoors cozying-up, ditching all your other responsibilities.”

Am I too sleepy, or is he mocking me? What a jerk! Just because he’s mega rich doesn’t mean he gets to fool me around like that. I shrug this thought off, since there are things of vaster importance that I need to focus on…like, have I done something to annoy him?

I mean, the answer to this question is really self-explanatory, but what I don’t realize is, what the heck did I do? I make a mental note to ask this question to myself later, since as of right now I need to dispose of other issues.

Like my boss.

Yeah, he is an issue. He’s been a pain in the ass ever since the first moment I got to see him. And I don’t mean the club, I remember nothing about it. What I mean is the morning I woke up to find myself on a bed that wasn’t mine. Couldn’t he just have left things at that? Did he really have to chase me all the way down to my work and buy off everything that was mime?

I feel like at this point he’s buying off my entire life, and I’m not really sure how to deal with that. And the fact that he’s got the looks of a cover-magazine male model does not help.

“I’m gonna need to you to specify the terms of your mockery.” I propel myself to break the awkward silence in between, but I didn’t mean to sound so autocratic.

“Oh, do you sense mockery in my tone?” I feel like he’s angry at me. I blush. Damn it! “Good, that means you got off easy. Because mocking you is not the first thing that came to mind when I drove all the way down to your apartment.”

What does he mean? What did he intend to do to me?

God. What’s wrong with this man?

The weirder thing is, is my mind renders over latent punishments he could’ve planned for me. What? It’s not like he’d spank me, now, would he?

I blush harder.

Aughhhh.

I still haven’t realized what did I do this time? It’s not like I’ve had the time of the day to sort it out, since he’s towered me with his anger and left me immovable. Literally. I look awkwardly at the cup of coffee, which remains untouched at the top of my kitchen counter and I grab my phone.

Looking at the screen, I grasp the motive of his anger. We had a meeting scheduled, like, two hours ago. And of course I’ve forgotten about it.

“I’m sorry,” I try the best puppy-like face I can come up with, in hopes that it would somehow reduce his high level of rage.

I don’t think it affects him at all.

That jerk! He came into life to turn it into a living nightmare that I can’t escape from.

Come to think of it, would it really be that bad an idea, me screwing him over? Ok, wrong choice of words, only thinking about screwing him makes me cringe. But you got the idea, anyway. Point being, if I mess it up, he’d just get tired of me and fire me. And that’s exactly what I want. I want release. I don’t want to have anything to do with this man.

And despite everything it feels like he’s pulling my strings. Which, weirdly sounds like a major turn-on, but trust me it isn’t. That’s not how I meant it anyway. And I don’t want to have that discussion right now with that unbidden part of me which enjoys the idea in a kinky way.

“Now, get ready. We have to get back in the office in less than thirty minutes, which considering the traffic and all, leaves you only with a couple of minutes to fix up the situation here. And it sounds like that’s gonna be a problem.”

I hate him. I do hate him. I hate him. I hate him, I hate him.

I keep saying this mantra over my head as he is summoning me as if I am his little puppy.

He looks at me stiffly and orders, “Now go on!”