SIX
Stella
To my surprise, Clayton’s already home by the time I walk into his condo at 9:45. He’s in the kitchen when I come in, looking relaxed with his tie loosened and the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his forearms.
He puts a black Styrofoam box into the fridge and asks, “Have you eaten?”
I bite my lip, suddenly feeling awkward. How messed up is it that him being nice to me is actually throwing me off? “I can get something on the way home,” I say.
“Nonsense. Sit.” He pats the counter—the same spot where he fucked me last night—and grabs a plate from the cabinet. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
Oookay…
I hop onto the counter, wincing at the cold granite beneath my thighs.
Did he have a stroke? Bump his head? Why is he suddenly so … normal?
“Mustard? Mayo?” he asks from the fridge.
“Mayo,” I say quietly.
This is weird. This is really, really weird.
He grabs a knife from the cutlery block sitting on his counter and cuts the sandwich in half, then hands me the plate.
“Thanks.”
“What would you like to drink?”
Something stiff. That should make this less awkward. “Water’s fine.”
He opens the fridge again and grabs a Perrier, twisting the cap off before sitting the bottle next to me. “How is it?” he asks.
I nod, mumbling around the food in my mouth, “Good.” And it really is. He’s got the fancy sourdough bread.
All we keep at home is Wonder.
“You want some chips? A pickle?”
I smile and shake my head. I could get used to Clayton Castle waiting on me hand and foot. “I’m fine.”
He sticks his hands in his pockets as he smiles almost imperceptibly. “I’m gonna jump in the shower while you finish eating. Take your time.”
I nod and watch him head upstairs.
That man is giving me whiplash with his hot and cold attitude.
I finish my sandwich and half the bottle of Perrier. Clayton comes back not too long after, his hair wet and his pajama pants slung low.
His shirt is suspiciously absent. Not that I’m complaining.
He’s got an amazing body.
My eyes trace every dip of his six-pack, right down to the “V” of his hips that disappears into his pajamas, leading my eyes south like a flashing neon arrow.
I want to lick every fucking inch of him.
I swallow, feeling my whole body flush as he stands between my legs. He rests his hands on the countertop beside me, boxing me in.
Good God, he smells good.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“You’re awfully talkative tonight,” I counter.
“Am I?” There’s that smile again. The tiny one that makes my stomach flutter and makes me want to grab his face and kiss him stupid.
Instead of doing that, I nod. “It’s kind of weird.” I laugh when his face falls, like I just kicked his puppy or something. “I just mean that…” I bite my lip, brushing my fingers along his muscular forearms. “I don’t know, it’s hard to talk to you if you’re not in boss-mode or you’re not inside me.”
“Boss-mode?”
“You know … cold. Distant.”
He scowls and steps back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not trying to be a dick. It just comes naturally, apparently.” Sighing he resumes his spot between my legs, running his hands up my thighs. “I’ve never had a sexual relationship with one of my employees. I don’t know where work ends and this,” he says, gesturing between us, “begins. Just … be patient with me.”
My mouth twists to the side as I play with the drawstrings of his pajama pants. “You’re not very patient with me.”
He lifts my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him. “No, I am not a very patient man when it comes to you. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”
“Why not?”
Bringing his thumb up, he grazes my lips. “It’s hard to regret thinking you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, or that my cock is always half-hard whenever you’re around. I’m impatient, Miss Moretti, because I suddenly find myself miserable if my dick’s not buried in your pussy.”
My fingers dip under his waistband, finding him hard, hot, and ready for me. “Then you must feel awful right now,” I murmur, stroking his cock as I suck his thumb into my mouth.
Clayton groans. “Absolutely abysmal.”
Popping his finger out of my mouth, he grabs my face and kisses me. He steals my breath and any attempt at rational thought. All I can do is sit here and grip his cock as his mouth fucks mine, his hands wandering between my legs as he rubs my pussy through my cotton shorts.
Pulling back, he groans. “From now on you’re only allowed to wear skirts or dresses. Nothing should keep me away from this,” he says, slipping his fingers under my shorts and panties to massage my clit.
I nod in agreement as I pull his cock out of his pants. “Yes, sir. Duly noted.”
He moves lower, getting his fingers wet with my juices before circling my clit again. I spread my legs as far as I can, scooting to the edge of the counter.
His fingers push inside me, and instead of feeling pleasure, all I feel is pain.
“Ow.” I wince.
Clayton frowns. “What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling out of me.
“I’m kind of sore,” I say, feeling hugely disappointed.
His face softens. “Was I too rough on you this afternoon?”
I shrug, sheepishly admitting, “You’re a lot bigger than I’m used to.”
This makes him grin. “Let me kiss it better,” he says, placing a kiss on the tip of my nose as he turns and swoops me into his arms. He carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs like something out of Gone with the Wind.
“We’re actually doing this in a bed? Mr. Castle, you spoil me.”
Clayton rolls his eyes as he walks us across his bedroom and unceremoniously tosses me on his mattress. I yelp as the bed shakes. He climbs on the bed and grabs me behind the knees, yanking me toward him.
Gone are his smile and any traces of humor. In its place is a look so dark, so heated, it makes my pussy clench in anticipation.
This is impatient Clayton.
Bossy Clayton.
He hooks his fingers inside my shorts and pulls everything down my hips. I lift my ass to help him and then he tosses my clothes aside.
“Take it off,” he says, nodding to my shirt as he slips his pajama pants down and kicks them off.
He strokes his cock as I sit up and take off my shirt, tossing it aside before unhooking my bra and losing that too. He crawls over to me, kissing me deeply—thoroughly—as I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him atop me.
His cock grinds against me, rubbing my clit in slow, torturous thrusts as he kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He moves lower and sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth, making my breath tangle in my throat as he flicks his tongue across the stiff peak.
Popping it out of his mouth, he kisses a path down my stomach, to my pubic mound, and keeps moving lower until his tongue swirls around my clit.
I let out a strangled gasp and grip his hair as he sucks me into his mouth, my back arching off the bed. He releases me with a loud pop and flicks his tongue back and forth, teasing my clit.
Spreading my legs as wide as I can, I lift my head, watching his mouth fuck my pussy. He glances up at me, smiling wickedly as his tongue laps at my glistening clit before sucking it back into his mouth.
I moan, grabbing his hair and pushing his face into me as my head falls back on the bed. “I love your fucking mouth.”
Clayton kisses my thigh. “Come sit on my face.”
He flips onto his back, upside down from me, and holds out his hands. I climb onto my knees and crawl down to him, letting him guide me until I’m straddling his face and his cock is within reach.
Bending down I grip the base of his shaft and lick up like it’s a popsicle, making him groan beneath me. His mouth is back on my pussy a second later, devouring me.
I moan at the different angle this position provides, subtly rocking against his mouth. Sucking the entire length of his cock inside me, I relax my throat and take him deep.
Clayton curses against me, gripping the backs of my thighs and spreading me wider as he licks up my slit and flicks his tongue around the puckered ring no one’s ever touched before. I cry out, his cock muffling my surprise as he continues to tongue my asshole.
My grip on him tightens, my sucking going lax as he adds a finger to my clit, rubbing it in a fast, sloppy back and forth. Coupled with the foreign feeling of his tongue on my ass, I come within seconds, my orgasm shocking me with its ferocity.
I scream around his cock, grinding my pussy against his mouth, then start sucking again, furiously bobbing my head while my hand jacks him off.
Clayton grunts, his muscles going taut as hot jets of cum coat my tongue and throat. I swallow everything down, massaging his balls as I milk what’s left.
“Jesus fucking Christ, woman,” he pants against me.
I ease up and eventually roll off him, lying on my back next to him as we both lie here and try to collect ourselves.
“That was…”
“I know.” I smile up at the ceiling, feeling boneless and sated.
When my heartbeat finally levels out and my breathing returns to normal, I climb off the bed and walk around it, picking up my scattered clothes.
He lifts himself onto his elbows. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say, slipping back into my panties. Isn’t that what we do? We fuck and then I leave. “Do you want me to stay?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“Yes and no.”
There it is.
I try not to take it personally as I finish getting dressed. I knew the drill.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to stay,” he adds quickly. “I just think that we need to establish some boundaries. This can get really messy if we’re not careful.”
I hold my hands up and look for my flip-flops, then remember I took them off downstairs while I was eating. “Hey, I’m not arguing with you. You’re my boss, I’m your assistant, and sometimes we fuck. Those are the boundaries, right?”
He sits up and scowls. “You’re making me sound like an asshole.”
“You kind of are.” Kneeling on the bed, I give him a quick peck on the forehead and then start to head for the door. “Thanks for the orgasm,” I say, waving goodbye without turning around.