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“I mean it, Faye. My fucking rules.”
I straightened my tie and made my way back to my chair as she caught her breath. My cock was rock solid, pulsing like a bastard, but I played it down, pretending to busy myself with emails like nothing had happened. Slowly Faye pulled herself together. Her breathing calmed and she raised herself from my desk, brushing her clothes down and attempting to play it cool.
“What now?” she asked, pupils still dilated.
“Get back to fucking work,” I snapped.
She shot me a smirk, making her way back to the doorway on legs that looked a little unsteady. She turned to face me before she left and her eyes were sparkling with lust and devilment.
“What?” I asked, resisting the urge to jump up and tear her fucking clothes off.
“I can’t wait until it’s my week, Andy. You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
***
Andy
I was impressed with myself. Very impressed.
It had taken every ounce of self-restraint not to slam my cock balls-deep in that sweet little snatch. Not to jab my fingers in that tight asshole until it opened up wide and showed me all her dirty secrets. Not to fuck her smart little mouth so hard she would retch around my dick. Not to take her, fuck her, use her, own her, until her apology fucking meant something.
Myweek.Myfucking rules.
I watched her on the CCTV, laughing and chatting with Topaz. Thick as thieves, those two little bitches. How much fun I could have with the pair of them trussed up in one of our playrooms. The things I’d make them do. I palmed my cock at the thought.
Topaz, my green-haired little pixie. Too young for me, and far too sweet. Still, her cute little mouth fixed over Faye’s pussy would be a hard temptation to resist.
I was officially losing my mind, and my grip on the cold, hard rules of professionalism along with it.
My cock was in my hand when the phone rang. I cursed under my breath, shoving it away before picking up the handset.
“Club Explicit, good afternoon.”
The voice at the end of the line killed my hard-on in a heartbeat. The smooth Italian drawl.
“Faye Devere. I must speak with her.”
Not even a please, the fucking prick.
“No. Faye is not available,” I said.
“When will she become available?” he asked. His tone was agitated, mirroring mine.
“How about never. Faye doesn’t wish to take your call.”
“I think that is Faye’s decision.”
“And she’s made it,” I said. “While we’re on topic,Vince, we need to talk. About your choice of cover image.”
The prick laughed. “I have nothing to say to you. My magpie looks beautiful, like an angel.”
“I suggest you rethink your marketing strategy. I’ve been in touch with our lawyers. They’re itching to take on the case.”
“Ourlawyers? There is nothing illegal about the image,” he said. “My magpie doesn’t belong with you, she belongs here. With me. She will fly home, you will see.” That fucking laughter again, smug piece of shit. “This is not over.”
“Fayewill not be flying fucking anywhere. Not to fucking Italy, and definitely not to you.”
“We shall see about that, won’t we?”
