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Chapter 1
ATLAS
“Please Daddy,” I whine playfully, my fingers digging into the rich mahogany of the Mr. Raphael Pierce’s desk as his cock inches into my ass. I’m bent over the surface, his grip holding onto the extra skin on my waist like I’m going to somehow slip through his fingers. Not likely with that monster stuffing itself inside of me. Five minutes ago, Raphael called the café on the first floor for his daily coffee and now I’ve found myself in this predicament, my pants around my ankles, and this gorgeous man taking me apart one stroke at a time.
But that's how it always has been these past three months. It started as just coffee and then a relationship blossomed. And then something more. More often than not the few moments we have with each other devolve into this kind of madness.
Not that I'm complaining.
Raphael chuffs out a laugh as his hands rub up and down my clothed torso. “Daddy? Is that something you’re into, little one? You’ve never called me that before.”
I hum at the pet name he uses for me, the one he coined when I playfully called him ‘grandpa’ after finding out that he was nearly 15 years older than me. In hindsight, that was rude and now I’m stuck being called ‘little one’ for the rest of eternity. Coming from Raphael, though, I don’t hate it. In fact, I crave hearing it fall from his lips every time we’re together.
Realizing I haven’t answered Raphael, I clear my throat and shake my head. “I… maybe? I just… can we have this conversation after you fuck me? My break is almost over.”
He bends over my back and places a kiss just behind my ear. “You aren’t running the show here, little one.”
A shudder runs down my spine as he picks up his pace and I muffle my sounds by biting my lip. No need to let his assistant stationed just outside the door know what’s going on here. I think her name is Juniper. June? I don’t know. Her mother is usually in that seat but June is filling in today for some reason. A groan filters through my lips as a particularly rough thrust has the entire desk shaking and something crashes to the ground as a result. Raphael isn’t paying any attention to it but I am. Pretty sure that trophy costs more than my monthly salary.
“Focus, little one.” His hand moves up to my neck, elegantly long fingers squeezing until I gasp for air. I try to warn Raphael that I’m about to come, that we need to stop but I can’t find the words. Pleasure overwhelms me as my eyes roll into the back of my head and I groan, my body sagging against the desk as I orgasm. Raphael’s pace is steady before he slams into my ass and then spills into the condom. I still feel the warmth from his release but am glad for the split-second decision.
Note to self: Don’t tease Raphael at work.
Not unless you want to be fucked.
I stand up on wobbly legs as he pulls out and steps back, my hole clenching around cold air. If I moan at the loss of his cock, Raphael will have no qualms about putting on another condom and going for round two. He might be just over 40 but goddamn he has the stamina of a horse. I am not complaining but I have to be careful or I’ll be bent over every surface before I can blink.
Hurriedly, I bend down to pull up my pants and zip them up before staring at the small stain on the front of Raphael’s desk. My eyes bug out as I realize it’s in a direct line of sight from the office’s massive double doors. Raphael seems rather unbothered as he stalks over to the bathroom attached to his office to throw away the condom. He’s always unbothered. Maybe that comes with money? I’m not sure but the white stain is obviously not paint or glue or any one of the number of things that should exist in an office.
Shit.
Raphael’s phone rings on his desk, June’s voice spilling into the office. “Mr. Pierce? There’s one of the investors here for your 8:30. Should I let him in?” Heat rises to my cheeks as I look for something to wipe up my mess. I hate that Raphael keeps this place so fucking clean. Not even a stray pen is out of place, except for the trophy that’s in pieces. I don’t dare look around the corner to see the damage we’ve done. If I can’t see it, it didn’t happen.
My gaze snags on a dark cloth to my right and I drop to my knees to grab it and hurriedly wipe off the stain, sighing with relief when everything comes off. It’s shinier than the rest of the desk but no one will know why.
“Using my jacket is a bold choice, Atlas.”
I twist around, swallowing nervously as I hold the bunched cloth in my hands. His jacket? Maybe I should have figured that out when the cloth felt like silk. Or cashmere? I don’t know the difference between any of the fabrics. I just know that it feels expensive. My go-to response is to find somewhere to hide it although Raphael is standing right in front of me. My panic only heightens as his chuckles spill into the room.
Raphael’s lips curl up in that handsome smile that makes my dick twitch, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. Within the few seconds he disappeared into the bathroom, he’s returned as if he didn’t just fuck me seconds ago. His brown and silver strands are combed back, his shirt perfectly pressed, and his pants without a wrinkle. And here I am, on my knees, holding his cum-stained jacket. “Atlas, calm down. It’s just a jacket.”
Tears prick my eyes as a result of my panic. I don’t have the money to pay him back. Sure, Raphael is my lover but he’s also my employer. Things like this make it messy and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. “Worth my salary!” I hiss. Raphael approaches, running one of his hands through my motley curls. I’ve tried to tame them but it’s impossible with the schedule I keep. Running into my lover definitely doesn’t help as he tends to pull on them during these little rendezvous. Still, his hand in my hair soothes my worries and I lean forward against his thigh.
“But not worth the effort. Hand it over, little one. A bit of dry cleaning will make it good as new.” Raphael stretches out his other hand as he continues to massage my head. A moan filters through my lips as his grip on my hair tightens. “Jacket, Atlas.”
My obedience is immediate and I straighten up, offering his jacket up to him like a precious gift. He must see the lingering terror in my eyes because his expression softens. “It’s fine. I promise.” He grabs the fabric just as the door bursts open and June steps inside. Her eyes grow wide and in the next second, she backs out.
I scramble to my feet, profusely apologizing about the spill so that she’ll think this was something else. But how could she? I was on my knees in front of the CEO, handing him his coat. “Your coffee is getting cold, sir. Please let the café downstairs know if it’s not to your liking.” I give him an awkward bow, intent on leaving when Raphael wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me back against his chest. One of those hands sift into my curls again, keeping me from going anywhere.
“Atlas, she already knows. You’re not exactly quiet. I also reschedule any meetings so that we’re not bothered. Sometimes it’s a coffee or a conversation. Other times, you let me fuck your sweet little ass while you try to muffle your screams. Trust me, June knows.” Which means so does her mother. Raphael kisses up the side of my neck before releasing me. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Atlas. I’ll see you tonight?”
I manage a nod before I finally find an escape. Halfway to the elevator across the wide hall, I nearly get away unscathed until June clears her throat, grinning from her desk a few feet away from Raphael’s office. The grin is anything but happy, a slight distaste lingering in her expression. June looks just like her mother, with long brown hair delicately pulled back into a bun to show off the sharp lines of her face. Brown eyes follow my finger frantically pressing the elevator button, a small chuckle falling from her lips.
“You do know that you’re just the next on the schedule, right?” She spits out. Her eyes flame with a mixture of disgust and anger. I’m not sure what I did to have her look at me like that. Her head tilts to the side as she leans forward, placing her elbows on the desk and situating her hands beneath her chin. “It’s like a revolving door with him. In one goes, out the other. Sure, you’ve lasted longer but you’re not the only one to bring him coffee, Atlas.”
My face falls at what she’s insinuating. I know she’s just trying to get under my skin because Raphael and I have been together for almost three months. Well, not together but we’ve been dating. The elevator dings and the large metal door slides open. I scurry inside like a wounded animal, mulling over June’s words. Raphael and I aren’t even really dating. We’ve been hanging out. Is that the right term? We meet when we can, in and around the building, short bursts of passion that make it feel like I’ve known him for years.
And yet, I probably see him less than couples who date normally.
