Damaged Beast

1. Deanna

DEANNA

Ihate my boss so much that I’m going to defile his precious pool table with my naked body.

I shouldn’t even be here right now. This was supposed to be my long weekend off. I put my request in over a month earlier and Prime (yes, that’s his real name) approved it without so much as glancing up from his phone (probably scrolling through an endless list of needy hookups).

Now, instead, he calls me up last second and essentially says either you house sit for me or you’re fired.

I didn’t even want to take this weekend off, is the thing, but it’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow morning and my mom really struggles around this time of year.

I still remember the parties she used to throw for him full of friends, coworkers, acquaintances, and other random guests they gathered like stray kittens.

There was food, dancing, drinking, at least a few broken objects and stained carpets, and kids running all over.

I loved those parties and she did too, but now it’s like none of that ever happened, and I think she’s still grieving it.

All of that’s to say, my boss is an asshole.

But he’s a particular type of asshole.

Rich, arrogant, confident to a fault, and absurdly handsome. There’s a reason he’s got a black book thicker than my mattress. For whatever reason, when he takes a woman home, she’s always desperate to do it a second time.

It’s a little pathetic, but the man’s got to be packing a magic dick or something.

Which is why I’m up on his pool table, top unbuttoned, legs spread, eyes screwed shut, thinking about the time I caught him mid-fuck six weeks back during a work retreat.

I’ll admit the whole pool table thing is dramatic and weird.

Why not stroke myself off anywhere else?

Somewhere more private instead of right in the middle of his massive game room on the ground floor of his huge south Philly house?

Prime loves this stupid thing. It’s apparently made from thousand-year-old Italian trees and the top is Greek slate and a million virgins were sacrificed to bless its felt and the pockets are sewn from the leather of a mystical dragon, or whatever.

He told me all about it once and I’m absolutely, positively sure he’d hate it if he knew I was doing this, which makes it so much sweeter as I stroke my fingers up and down my slit, eyes closed now as I pull back that now familiar memory.

Six in the morning. That’s the part I still can’t get over.

I knocked, heard nothing, and went into his room to make sure he hadn’t choked on his own booze-soaked vomit.

I figured I’d find him asleep and hungover and I’d have to usher him into the shower and get him presentable for the breakfast meetings we had scheduled a couple hours.

Instead, he was awake. Very much awake. And entertaining not one beautiful blond woman, but two.

I let out a soft moan at this part as I sink my fingers in deeper and begin to work my clit.

It was that first moment, before they realized I was there.

Prime was sinking his cock deep into one of the women, her sweat-slicked body grinding against him as he slammed roughly into her pussy, her pleasure screams like she was about to die.

The other stood in front of him, her leg over her shoulder, her fingers buried in his hair as he held her ass to keep her balanced. His mouth slurped and licked and ate her pussy, and her eyes were rolled back in pure ecstasy, her moans as incredible as her friend getting the best fuck of her life.

I moan, spreading my legs wider. The pool table’s felt really is soft as fresh cut summer grass. I stroke faster, back arching at the memory of the way he easily pleasured these two sinfully gorgeous women.

Back in the room that morning, I couldn’t move.

I froze in pure shock, horror, and awe. The woman he was fucking started gasping, almost shrieking as an orgasm rippled down her spine, her tanned skin turning bright red and flushed with exertion.

And as she finished, he pulled himself from her revealing the biggest, pussy-slick cock I’ve ever seen outside of porn videos.

She collapsed onto her belly, gulping for air, and that’s when he essentially shoved the other girl down onto her back and sheathed himself inside her with a feral snarl of pleasure.

I feel him now on the pool table, slamming into me, sweaty and growling, his muscular body covered in scars and dark tattoos, looking like a demon made for a woman’s sin.

I’m that girl on my back, another woman’s orgasm coating Prime’s dick, and not caring at all as he fills me over and over, pinning my hands above my head as I’m powerless, dominated, riding the sweet edge of bliss.

I arch, moaning his name, not sure if I’m in the real world or back in that bedroom, my fingers soaking with my own juices as I work myself close to orgasm.

Prime’s dark, honey-brown eyes lock on mine, his full red lips parted, sweat dribbling down his perfect chin, rolling between his sculpted chest, and I want him to ruin me, to fuck me, to treat me like the dirty girl I am, to cross the line he’s never once come close to crossing with me despite bedding half of Philadelphia since the time I started working for him?—

“Oh fuck, Prime,” I gasp, the orgasm ripping my brain in half as I shatter under him, big dick stretching me, fingers slicking up and down my slit, pool table creaking as I grind into my hand.

I see the girl he was fucking, his defined back, her legs spread, her mouth open in bliss, and I’m that girl too getting filled to the brim?—

“Hey, you didn’t tell me there’d be someone here!”

The other girl’s voice. But wait a second. In the haze of my orgasm comedown, I frown to myself.

That’s not what she’d said that morning when she noticed me, right?

No, I remember her lounging on an elbow, and tapping Prime on his firm ass. Uh, I think your assistant is here, dude.

That’s what she’d actually said, right?

My eyes snap open and I’m back in the game room.

My fingers are buried in my pussy. The heel of my palm is slick against my clit. My legs are spread wide, and my ass is grinding into Prime’s rare, artisanally crafted velvet, and there are two people standing in the doorway.

The first is a girl. I’ve never seen her before.

Fiery red hair blown out in a sleek wave around her shoulders.

Tight bodycon dress showing off her full breasts and hips, the shirt absurdly short, and fuck-me heels.

She’s stunning and wearing an outfit that suggests she’s not looking for a long-term partner.

The other is Prime.

“I don’t mind though,” the redhead says, putting a finger to her lower lip. “She’s really pretty, but it looks like she’s already done. Hey, are we interrupting? Or did you get tired of waiting?”

Prime watches me. I’ve never seen him look like that before, not in the two years I’ve been his personal assistant.

It’s a feral look, a starving, desperate, unhinged glare, the sort of gaze only a monster trying to control his inner nightmare can conjure from the blackest depths of his rotten soul.

That’s a little over the top but it’s true.

He takes the wrist of the redhead and turns her away.

“What’s the matter?” the girl asks, sounding confused. “Seriously, Prime, I don’t mind. Should we let her clean up? Where are we going? I thought you wanted to show me your pool table.”

Prime drags her from the room without a word.

And it’s like my entire life crumbles down around me.