“Look what you do to me, Charlotte,” he growls, sounding like a man come undone. “Sitting over there in these slutty panties. You do it on purpose, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I gasp, my body building toward another climax. I love this wild version of Emerson, so different from the proper, serious boss he normally is. And I love that I make him this way even more.
“You want me to fuck you over my desk like a little slut?” His voice is strained, and I know he’s getting close. I feel so dirty, loving the way his degradation makes me feel.
“Yes, Sir,” I nearly yell from the torrent of sensation coursing through my body.
“You are a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he growls.
“Yes, Sir!”
“This is what you get for tempting me. Tell me you’re sorry, Charlotte.” His thrusts grow even more rough and wild, sending me into a tailspin as I come, and I swear my feet leave the ground. My body seizes, my pussy throbbing around his cock.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I cry in a breathless moan.
His punishing thrusts slow as he comes with a loud groan. Only a second after he finishes, I’m gathered up into his arms. Still inside me, he turns my upper body and kisses me with so much passion, I nearly melt into the rug. Strong arms wrap around my middle, squeezing me tight.
Is it supposed to feel this good or am I just wishing for too much? Not just the sex, although that’s great. But the way Emerson makes me feel, so secure and loved. I mean…he just finished calling me a dirty slut and I still feel as if he never truly talks down to me or makes me feel substandard, even as we play roles where I am literally inferior to him.
It all feels so ironically surreal. Like this isn’t supposed to work, but it does. And I know this is just a temporary thing, and I’m not supposed to get attached, but deep down I’m holding on to the hope that Emerson will get over the fact that I dated his son and let this thing between us be real.
And I really should have learned my lesson by now when it comes to hoping. It always ends in disappointment.
RULE #25: GIVE HIM THE OPPORTUNITY TO SURPRISE YOU, AND HE WILL.
Charlotte
“Don’t you think I’m a little old for a pi?ata?” Sophie asks, while I’m standing on a ladder in the middle of the skating rink.
“Ummm…I’m six years older than you and I’m gonna whack the fuck out of this thing and enjoy every second of it.”
She rolls her eyes. As I climb down, we admire my handiwork.
“I think it looks great!”
“It looks like a giant penis with herpes,” she replies, and I gasp. She’s cracking up as I shove her.
“It’s a mushroom! I worked all night on this.”
“First of all, they’re toadstools, and I think the top part is supposed to be a lot bigger.”
“Well…”
“I’m just kidding.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me in a bear hug. “I love it.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze her back.
“Besides…we’re going to whack it until stuff comes out right, so it might as well be a pen—”
“Sophie Underwood!” I shriek. “You’re fifteen years old! Watch your mouth.”
She’s cackling as she jogs over to the party table where Mom is setting up the snacks and drinks. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I fish it out.
“I’m gonna tell Mom what you just said!” I yell to my sister as I swipe open my phone to check my messages.
My heart picks up when I see Emerson’s name. And his message makes me pause for a moment.
I need you to come in immediately.
I quickly type out a reply.
Why? What’s wrong?
I miss you.
We should talk about you working on the weekends. I can’t be expected to read my own emails for two days straight.
My smile stretches across my face, and I know I look like an idiot, standing out here smiling so bright my face hurts.
I’ll come over tonight,
I reply.
What are you doing right now?
I have to think for a moment about how to respond. I’ve talked to Emerson about my personal life, but that was when I was just his employee. Everything’s changed. I shouldn’t be so nervous about sharing a little more with him. It’s not like we’re dating. We’re just exclusively screwing—a lot—and occasionally role playing some kinky secretary stuff.
But with all the screwing and foreplay, it feels strange to bring in regular life stuff. He wants to see me naked and fuck me over his desk, but does he care about my home life or what I do for fun? I want to say he does, but that’s my hope talking.
I’m about to respond with something flirtatious like Thinking of what you did to me yesterday, but that’s not what my fingers type out. Instead, I send him…
Setting up for my little sister’s birthday party at the rink. She turned fifteen today.
It’s quiet for a while. No typing bubbles. No texts or pics.
I take the ladder back to the storage closet and just as I shut the door, my phone vibrates.
What time is the party?
Three. I’ll be done by six, and I’ll head over.
I’m sure my sister will be busy hanging out with her friends. She only has a couple friends whose parents let them come to our house for sleepovers and she invited them both tonight, so I know she’ll be occupied while I sneak out.
Emerson doesn’t answer me back, but the party is about to start, so I hardly notice. Before I know it, I’m handing out skates to her friends and coordinating the hokey pokey on the floor. The rink gets busy on Saturdays, and the perks of being family friends with the owner is we basically get to make the whole place Sophie’s party.
When I look over at her, and I see her bright smile as she sits between two equally quirky girls, I have to bite back the urge to cry. The shit she has had to put up with these past few years is unfair. Bullied at school. Abandoned by her own dad.
I know my sister worries about me, and I wish she didn’t. She saw me through a bad relationship and a long year of feeling like I was a failure. It makes me wonder what she would think of Emerson. Would she approve of him, even if she never knew what goes on behind closed doors? Sure, he treats me like property when I want him to, but when we’re not in a scene, he’s affectionate and loving.
“What are you smiling about?” my mom asks as she brings me a white plastic cup filled with soda.
“Seeing her smile makes me happy,” I say, nodding toward Sophie.
“Yeah, me too.” She turns toward me. “You know…seeing you smile makes me happy too.”
I turn my attention toward my mother. “Of course it does. What’s your point?”
“My point is…you’ve been smiling a lot lately.”
I try to act casual, brush it off. “Well, things are good. My job pays well, Sophie is doing well. You seem less stressed.”
“Uh-huh,” she replies over the brim of her cup.
“What are you getting at?”
“Are you sure there’s not someone…”
“Mom! I literally go to work and come home. Where would I even meet a guy?”
She’s laughing with a sly smile as she tries to hide her face from me. “I’m just sayin’. You have the look of a girl who’s been—”
“I am begging you not to finish that sentence.”
“I’m an ER nurse, Charlie. You think a little sex talk makes me squeamish?”
“Jesus.” I groan, hiding my face in my hands.
While I’m trying to recover from the mortification of my mother telling me I look like I’ve been fucked well, she chimes in with, “Men like that don’t come into the rink often.”
“What?” I ask, lifting my face. My eyes scan the room and my heart skitters to a stop in my chest when I spot Emerson-fucking-Grant waltzing across the skating rink like it’s not the most bizarre thing in the world. “What the—”
For some reason, I duck behind the counter. Shortly after dropping to my knees, I realize hiding was a stupid idea.
“What are you doing? Do you know him?”
If I stay hidden, maybe he’ll leave. Why is he here? It was a big step even telling him about my sister’s party. I sure as hell am not ready for him to meet them! And what about Sophie?
“He’s asking around for you,” my mom adds. “Your aunt Shelley just pointed this way.”