My boss, Bruce Davies, CEO of Davies and Birch Advertising, stood there in the doorway with his mouth open in surprise. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Alex had me bent over my desk, my short black pencil skirt shoved up to my waist, my breasts spilling out of its matching jacket, nipples trailing against the desk blotter, and his big cock shoved so far up my cunt that I felt like singing opera. Alex was breathing hard behind me, a death grip on my hips. “Don’t move,” he barked as he increased his speed. My ass twitched against his groin as he filled me again. His shirttails tickled my lower back. “Oh, Glory.” His voice was a harsh whisper as his cock grew and hardened inside me. I squirmed to get closer, feel more of him. “I can’t stop, babe. I can’t.” I flexed my muscles, stroking his cock to let him know it was okay to keep going, that I wanted him to continue, that I was feeling him. His hands, slippery now, slid along my ass as he tried to maintain his grip. And then he was coming, his body jerking against my ass as he spewed his seed. I was glad I’d remembered to make him wear the condom. It felt like he had uncapped a fire hydrant and couldn’t get the cover back on. Finally, he trembled a bit and went still, his hands coming to rest on my waist and lower back.
“When you’re done here, Ms. James, I’d like to see you in my office,” Mr. Davies said before he backed out of the doorway and pulled the door closed.
“Sorry about that,” Alex said as he pulled out, tugged my skirt over my exposed ass, and set about repairing his clothing.
“Hey, what can you say?” I said, not just to soothe him, but because there wasn’t anything to say. I’m Glory James, Junior Account Rep, but mostly I am, or was, assistant to Mr. Davies. I don’t file or type his correspondence or anything like that. He has another assistant for those things. I handle the things he doesn’t have time for like preliminary research, clients’ backgrounds and sales or production figures that he needs right away, or tweak contracts before Legal finalizes them. Sometimes I pick a client up from the airport and make sure he or she is settled in, and occasionally I take them to dinner or for drinks when Mr. Davies has an emergency. That was the case with Alex here. Alex and his ex-wife design and manufacture shoes mostly, but they do fashion and have recently developed a line of furniture. They’ve been scouting ad agencies. That’s where I come in. There’s a pun in there somewhere, but fucking Alex was not intentional. I mean, it isn’t in my job description. I just liked him. He’s a big man who takes care of his body and he’s smart, reads books, not just trade magazines and newspapers.
“Will you be okay?” he asked after we’d both straightened our clothes and exhausted the container of wet wipes I kept in my desk drawer. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“No, I’m good,” I said, smiling at him ’cause what the fuck. I’ve been working for Davies for two years with no complaint. I’ve always done everything he asked and he has continued to give me more responsibility. That must mean he likes the way I do things. If he can’t forgive this one indiscretion then he’s in the wrong business. Besides, it’s after hours, and the client is none the worse for wear.
Alex pulled me close, offering me comfort. He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t think he will, but if he fires you, you can come work for me and I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
I leaned my face into the crisp baby-blue of his shirt taking in his masculine scent and the heat that radiated from his chest.
“And don’t let him bully you into doing anything you don’t want to do.” He pulled me back a bit from his chest so that he could see my face, and I could see the meaning in his eyes. I nodded.
“I’ll wait here,” he said, turning me toward the door.
“No,” I said. “You go on back to the hotel.
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