Chapter 9
Amelia
Iarrive early the next day, my new pass swiping me through reception without issue. When I reach the top floor, the place is deserted as I make my way to my desk.
The other EAs haven’t arrived yet, and I’m hoping I can spend some time this morning getting more familiar with my workload.
I put my bag down on my desk and smooth my hand over my skirt. I’m wearing the same suit as yesterday, with a different blouse underneath.
I’ll have to go shopping as soon as possible to make myself look as classy as the other women in the office. At least I have some money to pay for my clothes now, thanks to yesterday’s ‘bonus’.
I try to think calmly and positively about what the day has in store for me, but my hands are shaking as I sit down and turn on my computer. As soon as I log in, a Teams message pops up.
Crawford: Could you come to my office, please?
I draw in a long breath, glancing around. Does he have cameras or something? How did he know I was here?
I reply with a simple: On my way.
I rise, smoothing my hands over my skirt. As an afterthought, I slip off the jacket and leave it on my chair. Who knows what he might want from me today.
The more I think about the interview, the more abrupt it seemed. Surely he wants to meet me this time and actually talk before we fuck?
I walk into the office, pushing open the heavy doors which swing shut behind me with a gentle click.
Crawford is sitting on a white couch to the right. I’m amazed to see the city skyline ahead of me. That wasn’t there when I came in yesterday; the windows were completely white, like translucent glass, but now I can see for miles across New York. It’s breathtaking.
What I wouldn’t give to sit with an easel and just paint that view for hours.
I come to stand in front of him as he picks up a little remote, clicking a button, and the windows change before my eyes. The view disappears, and it’s opaque again.
“Good morning, Miss Brooks.”
He’s holding a glass of water with a perfect spherical ice cube inside.
“Morning,” I say, dragging my eyes away from the window as I realize it’s the first word I’ve actually spoken to him.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he says, swilling the glass around.
“Apologize?” I ask.
“Yes. I didn’t really introduce myself. I got rather, uh, carried away. But I wanted to remedy that.”
I shift my weight, taking him in.
His feet are bare again, and I’m struck for a second time at how neat they are—he must spend a fortune on pedicures.
“I’m Lucas Crawford, Miss Brooks, and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. As I said yesterday, I’ll work with you during our time together, and I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Is that understood?”
I nod.
“What I mean is, if I ask anything of you that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. Immediately. Without fear.”
I nod again.
“Good. Now take off your clothes. Slowly. And let me get to know you better.” He takes a sip of water and looks at me over the rim of the glass.
Jesus, this guy is direct. I can only imagine what he must be like in the boardroom.
Slowly, I slip off my shoes, and he settles back in his seat, his dark eyes watching me. He really is gorgeous, just as Annabelle said.
I begin to unbutton my shirt.
“Your hands are shaking,” he says.
I shrug a shoulder. “They always have, ever since I was little.” It’s a lie, but it seems to placate him. He nods, shuffling back in his seat again.
“I’m aware of the time, Miss Brooks,” he murmurs. “Be assured that I’m not going to touch you off the clock.”
I glance at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. It’s white like everything else, but has no numbers on it. Even so, I can see that it’s five minutes to eight. A shiver runs through me, pleasure warming my chest. I like people who do things by the book.
I pull off my shirt, throwing it over the chair opposite his desk, where my jacket was yesterday. He doesn’t speak as I take off my skirt and pantyhose. I pause as I reach my panties, wondering what he’d prefer. Should I turn around? I’ve seen that turns men on in porn.
But he says nothing, and I slip them off my legs, the bra following shortly afterward.
He stays seated, his eyes running over me hungrily. I force myself not to fidget; self-conscious and exposed in this quiet, strangely white room.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says lightly, sipping his drink.
He wants me to tell him about myself, while naked in his office?
“What would you like to know?” I ask.
His eyes are staring at my pussy, and I can see the outline of his cock in his pants. I’m surprised to feel something like satisfaction pass through me. It’s powerful, knowing I caused that reaction in him.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Uh…Brooklyn.”
He licks his lips. “How long have you lived there?”
“All my life.”
“And remind me how old you are?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Good.” He shifts in his seat. “I’m still not allowed to touch you yet. But there are no rules that you can’t touch yourself.”
I stare at him, another shiver passing over my skin. It’s warm in his office despite the size of the space, and my cheeks are flaming at his close inspection of my body.
I tentatively move my hand to my crotch, smoothing over the top of my thigh before I slide my index finger slowly onto my clit. His eyes don’t move away from my hand as I start to rub.
“And how did you find your interview?” he asks, his voice a low growl.
“I was happy I got the job,” I say honestly, and he huffs a laugh, a little smile flitting over his face.
I push my fingers further in, flirting with the dark, wet heat I find there. I’m surprised that I’m already drenched. Just having his eyes on me, I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.
Who knew I had such a thing for being watched?
“Sit.” He whispers the word, and I lower myself slowly to the floor. “Put your legs out in front of you, yes, like that. Bend them and keep doing what you’re doing.”
I get into the position, my fingers moving over my clit with more pressure now. I lean back on my other hand, glancing down at my fingers moving over my body.
“Yes. Good. Watch yourself.” His voice has lowered by an octave as I begin to rub harder.
“Push your finger inside,” he says, sitting forward in his seat as he unzips his fly.
I stop, looking up at him as I push my finger inside, slowly and steadily. The walls of my body are still sore from yesterday’s “interview”.
“Pull it out, and push it back in,” he says as he starts to stroke himself, closing his eyes and leaning back against the couch. “Jesus, you’re gonna make me come in five seconds with this shit. Get over here.”
I pull my fingers free, standing up as I walk over to him. I’m still nervous about what he’ll want me to do, but I decide to wait for his instructions instead of trying to guess.
He puts his arms along the back of the couch, and I look down at his dick for the first time. It’s just as big as I thought, wide and long, and weeping at the head already.
“You know where I keep them.” He says, glancing at the desk as he places his glass on a table at the end of the couch. “Bring one to me.”
I walk over to the little silver dish on the desk, get out a condom, and return to him with it. He rips it open and slides it on effortlessly, relieving me of a duty I’m not sure I can perform with such efficiency.
He strokes the back of his hand down my thigh before he looks up at me.
“Sit on my dick and ride me,” he says, his eyes dark and predatory as I straddle his lap.
Leaning over him, I gasp as he suddenly moves forward, his mouth closing over my nipple as his tongue licks over the tip, his teeth gently closing around it. I can’t help shuddering at the sensation; it feels amazing.
I position myself above him, able to feel the tip of his cock brushing my skin, but clueless as to whether the angle is right.
“Wait,” he says softly, and I freeze, my body hovering an inch above the tip of his dick.
We remain like that for what feels like an endless moment, and then I hear the clock chime.
My fingers tighten on his shoulders. Something about the meticulous way he’s sticking to the rules flicks a switch inside of me.
I feel myself getting even wetter as I look into his eyes.
“And now you’re on the clock, Miss Brooks. I want to feel you squeezing my dick all the way down.”
With an intense desire to do as he asks, I lower myself too quickly and immediately feel a bolt of panic as I’m met with resistance.
It’s not the right angle, and I’m unsure which way to move in order to rectify it.
But suddenly his hand is around his dick, and he’s lining us up and pushing his hips upward as I feel the tip push into my entrance.
I close my eyes, holding back the wince. Jesus, he’s big.
“Oh fuck, you’re seriously tight,” he murmurs as I slowly lower over his dick, feeling it pressing into me an inch at a time.
I’m sore, but it’s not as painful as it was yesterday.
Still, I probably go a lot slower than the other escorts would.
Finally, my hips meet his, his dick fully seated and further inside me than I thought was possible.
There’s a hint of pleasure that I’m determined to chase as the discomfort starts to recede.
His hands come up to cup my breasts, brushing my nipples as he pinches them. I let out an involuntary moan. His eyes snap up to me, and he pinches them again. I feel a rush of wetness flood through me.
Christ, no one told me my nipples could be so sensitive.
His big hand trails up my back, and he takes a commanding hold of my hair against my scalp. He’s not pulling, just trapping me against him, and it feels primal and dominating.
“Ride me, Amelia, choke my cock.”
I push upward, remembering what Hope said—it’s all in the hips.
I begin to circle them, lifting and lowering in a smooth, rotating movement.
I know I’m going too slow, but trying to allow my body time to adjust. He closes his eyes, tugging my head back, his fingers tightening in my hair.
My neck is straining, eyes toward the ceiling.
After a few minutes of the slow grind, he hasn’t spoken at all or made any sound. My mind is going crazy with different thoughts, from him throwing me off and telling me I need to learn to fuck for real, or him flipping me over onto the desk again and taking charge.
As the worry courses through me, I know I have to do something to make this more enjoyable for both of us.
The burn is lessening with every pass, and hesitantly, I start to lower my hips down onto him more forcefully.
To my satisfaction, he begins grunting every time I do it.
His fingers tug at my hair as I increase the rhythm, and after a few minutes, his hips start thrusting up to meet me.
Then I feel it.
Pleasure begins to ripple outward from the tip of his dick. Every time he’s deep inside me, I can’t help but sigh with satisfaction.
My breasts bounce freely above him until he pulls me forward, his tongue lapping at them as his hands grip my back, taking a commanding hold.
He begins to push upward brutally hard, his dick slamming into me as he begins to fuck me in earnest. I hold on to the back of the couch, shuddering around him as he pistons his hips at a crazy speed, and I try to keep up with the rhythm.
I can feel something building, inescapable and unexpected, and as his climax approaches, I know I’m going to come too.
He freezes beneath me as I throw my head back and let out a shout I’ve never heard from my lips before. It’s guttural, primal, and deep as my body tightens around him. He hisses, sighing with pleasure as I come so hard I see stars.
Wow. That was way better than the first time.
His huge hands cradle me for a moment, his fingers brushing against my skin just as they did before. I’m straddling him, weightless, suspended there like I’m floating.
“Fuck. That was good.”
It feels good, and I want to collapse against him, until I remember my role and pull gently off his cock. I suppress a wince of discomfort even as pride rushes through me.
I definitely participated that time. Maybe I’m not as bad at this sex thing as I thought.