“Want me to make myself scarce?” Tasha asked, a few minutes before Barton was due to arrive.

“No need,” I replied. “We’re only going to be working.”

“And you’re not working at the office because…?”

“Because Barton prefers working here, and so do I. If we work at the office, he’ll get loads of admirers staring at him all the time.”

“Okay,” Tasha said disbelievingly. “You keep telling yourself that.”

The doorbell rang before I could argue. Even though Barton was a client, there didn’t seem much point in dressing up as if I were actually going to the office. I’d slipped into a pair of jeans—even though it was hot enough for shorts—and a plain t-shirt that could in no way be described as sexy. He couldn’t possibly still want me in this.

Unfortunately, I still wanted him. I opened the door to see Barton dressed similarly to me in just a t-shirt and jeans, but his outfit revealed a lot more. Specifically, muscles. Lots of them. Muscles everywhere I looked.

“Hi Barton,” Tasha called out. “Don’t worry, I’m just leaving.”

“Is Kristi making you leave so she can spend time alone with me?” Barton asked.

“No,” I snapped.

“Yes,” Tasha said at the same time.

“I know who I believe,” Barton said with a smile.

“Has Kristi mentioned setting me up with any of your friends yet?” Tasha asked.

“No,” Barton replied. “She’s not mentioned it.”

“Didn’t think she would. Bear me in mind, would you?”

“There’s a party tonight if you want to go. I can get you in. It’ll be full of footballers and underwear models.”

“Hmm,” Tasha murmured. “A bit of competition could be fun. I’m game.”

“If I can make a recommendation,” Barton said, “hunt around for a guy named Clyde. You two might get on well.”

Clyde? That name rang a bell. He’d been at Barton’s party. He was the one who got that douchebag out of my hair. I went to add my recommendation for Clyde, but then changed my mind. If Tasha knew I liked him, she wouldn’t go near him. I knew how her mind worked, for better or worse.

I watched on helplessly as Barton gave my sister details for one of his debauched parties and made arrangements for her to get in. I wouldn’t see her again until the morning, at the earliest.

“I’ve had some thoughts about next steps,” I said, once Tasha had left. My laptop had a ten page Word document of ideas and strategies to improve Barton’s public image. I’d deliberately kept the document on my local hard drive and off the firm’s servers. What I had in mind wouldn’t be in line with what Leona wanted me to do for Barton, namely nothing.

Should I tell Barton that my firm wanted him to look stupid? I’d considered it on an hourly basis since finding out, but I couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted to do. If I told Barton then he would obviously stop working with my firm. That might be a good thing, but he would also go back to his old ways and that would be bad for his career. Not to mention mine. If I didn’t tell him, I could keep trying to help him. That would fuck up my career as well. Decisions, decisions.

“I’ve been thinking about the future too,” Barton said.

“Let me guess, it involves me naked, begging you to fuck me.”

“Um, no, actually.”

“Oh,” I replied. My cheeks flushed red in record time. I’d let Tasha get into my head. Of course Barton didn’t want me. He might want to screw me as something to pass the time, but he could just as easily do another girl.

“I’ve been thinking about taking full control of my Twitter account. I want to reply to all the messages. Doesn’t seem fair that you do all the work.”

“That’s what you’re paying me… I mean, my firm, to do.”

“I want to free up some of your time. If you work less, you’ll have more energy to suck my dick, and ride me like a bucking bronco.”

I picked up my pen from the table and threw it at Barton, where it proceeded to bounce harmlessly off his bulging triceps.

He did want me after all. Okay, I’ll admit it, I needed to hear that.

“You aren’t responsible enough to handle the account,” I replied.

And I don’t want you reading all the messages you get from beautiful women. You’re bound to get tempted by one of them.

“I’m not a child. I’ve seen the messages you send, and I can replicate them. I just think it’s a good idea to add a bit of the human element to them. Yours can be a little… sterile.”

He was right. My tweets all read like press releases. Besides, if he wrote them himself, I could at least tell Leona that I was taking a hands off approach as she’d asked.

“Okay,” I replied. “You can send the tweets. But promise me you’ll behave.”

“I’d behave a lot better if you helped me relieve the stress. You’re not really going to wait until two weeks are up before begging me for cock, are you?”

“I’m not begging you for cock ever,” I replied.

My eyes glanced down at the bulge between his legs as I said the word ‘cock.’ I’d been thinking about it more and more lately. Tasha kept putting ideas into my head, and now I found myself seriously considering ‘having some fun’ with Barton.

“I’ve been thinking about your lips a lot lately,” Barton said softly.

“That’s nice.”

I glanced at his cock again. Would I even be able to fit it in my mouth? So far, I’d deep-throated every guy I’d ever sucked, but that was a list of two people, and while I was no expert on cock size, it would have been generous to describe them as average.

“I’d like to see them wrapped around my dick.”

“I’m sure you would.”

I licked my lips subconsciously, but Barton saw me and smiled one of those knowing grins.

“You think about it too,” Barton said. He moved up closer and put an arm around me, with the other hand resting on my thigh. I didn’t encourage him, but I didn’t push him away either. “Where do I come? In my fantasies, I come in your mouth, but I’m a big fan of splashing my load over your tits as well. You have any preference?”

“No,” I replied quietly. “I don’t want you coming anywhere on me.” The lie didn’t sound even remotely convincing.

“What about inside you? When was the last time a guy came inside that tight pussy of yours?” Never. “I want to pump so much inside you, it spills out and dribbles down your thighs.”

I gasped, as his fingers moved further up my thighs. My panties had to be soaked through now. Would a wet patch show on jeans?

If he kissed me now, he would have me. I wouldn’t be able to resist. My body felt completely unable to fight. All the strength had gone from it, as if I my mind were in someone else’s body and I couldn’t exhibit any control.

Once again, I looked towards his cock. Now it was hard and fighting to get out of his pants.

I want you to beg me for sex.

All I had to do was drop to my knees and open his pants. It would be mine. He would be mine.

“That’s all for you,” Barton said, following my gaze. “Just claim it.”

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t me. I didn’t ‘claim’ cock. I wasn’t Tasha.

I’d only been in one sexual relationship, and it had hardly set my world on fire. I had plenty of vibrators that could do more for me than my ex had ever done.

I didn’t need Barton. I certainly didn’t need the angst that would follow after he’d had his fun with me and moved on to the next lucky lady.

No, I couldn’t do this. Being like Tasha might be fun, but it wasn’t me.

“You should leave,” I said firmly, grabbing his hand and pulling it off my leg. “I’m not feeling too well.”

“Want me to pop out and get you some aspirin?” Barton asked.

“No, I’ll be okay. I just need to lie down.”

I waited for a comment about lying down with me, but it never came.

“Text me if you need anything,” Barton said as I frantically ushered him out of the apartment.

I leaned back against the door and considered going after him. Just thirty minutes with him would make me feel so much better. But for how long?

At least my fingers and toys wouldn’t break my heart. I fled to my bedroom and dove under the covers, violently tugging my jeans down past my knees and then using my feet to push them off my ankles.

My fingers slipped under my panties and explored my dripping wet folds. I didn’t need to ease into it—my slick fingers went straight for my clit, which I rubbed slowly as I thought back to Barton on my sofa.

“I want to pump so much inside you, it spills out and dribbles down your thighs.”

“That’s what I want,” I replied. “I want your hot load inside me.”

“Beg me, Kristi,” Barton growled. “Beg for my cock, and I’ll plunge it so hard inside you, you’ll be screaming my name in your dreams for weeks.”

I grabbed his hand and moved it between my legs so that he could feel the heat burning between them. He moaned with pleasure, as I opened my jeans and pulled them down.

“That’s how much I want you,” I whispered. “I want your cock to slide in me.”

“No,” Barton growled again. “That’s not enough. I want you to beg me for it.”

I moved his fingers under my soaked panties and pushed his fingers into my wet sex. “Please,” I begged. “I want to feel your cock inside me. I’m so wet, I just want you to slide right in and fuck me like I’m one of those girls at your parties. Treat me like the naughty little slut I am.”

My fingers moved furiously over my clit. I considered grabbing a vibrator from under the bed, but I’d have to stop and right now that couldn’t happen.

“More,” Barton whispered in my ear, as he pushed his fingers deep into me.

I squirmed under his touch, grinding my hips into his hand so that his palm rubbed against my swollen clit.

“I want you to bend me over, and fuck me from behind. Pull my hair hard, and fuck me deep. Raw.”

“Shit,” Barton moaned.

He pulled his hand from my pussy and flipped me over onto my front. I slipped off my t-shirt as he pulled down his jeans, freeing his hard cock and readying it for me.

“You’ve earned it,” Barton said in a deep low voice. “You’ve earned this fucking.”

“Hurry, please,” I moaned. My pussy lips were pulsing in anticipation with Barton’s cock just inches from entering me.

His strong hands grabbed my ass as the tip of his dick parted my folds. Then he thrust into me. His thick cock stretched me open, quickly moving into places no man or toy had ever reached.

I slipped two fingers inside my sex, desperately trying to simulate the feeling. I knew it wasn’t close, but it was enough.

“Harder,” I moaned immediately. “I want all of you, Barton.”

“Shit, Kristi,” Barton yelled. “You’re so fucking wet and tight. I can’t wait to come in this pussy.”

“Do it,” I commanded. “Fill me up, Barton. I want it all.”

My fingers moved back to my clit. No time to grab a toy. My body was already enveloped in a fiery heat, and I knew an explosion was close.

He pulled my hair and yanked my head up into the air, as his other hand dug deep into my skin.

“You like being fucked like a little slut?” he whispered.

“Yes, oh fuck yes. Screw me like the dirty whore I am. I deserve this. I deserve a rough hard fucking.”

“Oh, Kristi,” Barton moaned. He pulled harder on my hair, and his nails dug deep into my skin. “Take my load, you little slut.”

I clamped onto his cock as he exploded inside me. His explosion triggered my own. Thrust after thrust followed, with my body shaking uncontrollably as he emptied his balls into my grateful pussy.

My body contorted and twisted as my fingers brought me over the edge. A week of pent up frustration came out in one satisfying blast of energy through my body.

I couldn’t get out of bed for an hour. My body simply refused to move.

My brain was just as uncooperative. There was a problem, and I had to face up to it. If that’s what Barton could do in my imagination, what could he do if I let him have me in real life? If I gave in and begged for his cock?

What would happen if we spent hours screwing until we couldn’t move?

What would happen when he left me for someone else?