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“Keep reading,” he grunts.
I cry out. “Four…dot five…section six.”
“Fuck,” he bellows. Standing up in a rush, he bends me over the desk. Scrambling for a condom in his drawer, he pulls one out and follows it with unbuckling his belt. I’m panting over his desk, my pussy still pulsing from the orgasm and eagerly awaiting the feel of his cock.
My thin cotton thong comes down with a quick swipe. Then he thrusts in hard, crushing my body against the desk. God, it feels so good being filled by him. My high-pitched cries fill the room while he pounds relentlessly. His fingers dig into my hips as his body crashes against my backside.
“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 amliterallyinferior 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 piñata?” 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.”
