6. Pearl #2
There was gossip in forums about her and how cruel she was to her assistants. Rumor had it one was fired after a year of working for her because she spilled coffee on her desk. Another for misscheduling a lunch. Apparently, she sometimes went through multiple in a month.
It wasn’t that I thought I was incompetent. I wanted more than anything to quit my job for a nice, comfy nine-to-five, but I wouldn’t be a regular assistant, and this wasn’t a regular job.
And because of that, I might get fired faster than anyone in her history.
She let out a sigh and left the car, slamming the door behind her, leaving me to scramble after her.
She paused across the parking lot to shoot me a look, and I froze, not knowing how to react. Her gaze had my feet fused to the concrete.
If I were being honest, she was a bit scary in that moment. Being even more honest, I loved that about her too.
She stalked toward me, stopping close enough for me to feel the heat of her body. Then, a slow, sultry smirk spread across her lips.
“Forgetting something, Pearl? Or are you just that eager to please me?”
No response came to mind. I was too enraptured by the way her lips quirked, the desire in her eyes, and especially the way those words fell from her sharp tongue.
Then she moved past me back toward her car, and I heard the sound of the door opening and then closing. She let out a laugh as she passed me again, this time with my bag over her shoulder.
“Keep up, Pearl, or else you may be right about needing your steakhouse job.”
Emerson lived in a fucking penthouse. Because of course she fucking did.
It was amazing, with a beautiful nighttime view of the city that was even better than the one in her office. Tall buildings sprouted up all around us, the cars barely visible from how high up we were.
From the small tour I got, I saw that it had two floors. Most of the bedrooms were upstairs, while downstairs had the common area, a guest room, and a pool out on the balcony that overlooked the city.
It was expensive, both the place and her taste in furniture, all in black, dark green, and light gold accents.
She let me explore for a bit until I joined her in the living room, and then the price and the view became the last things on my mind.
In front of me was a glass coffee table, the signed contract on top.
Emerson sat on the other side of it, a drink in her hand, the fake fireplace running in the background and lighting up her features.
She had shed the jacket, unbuttoned even more of her white button-up, and was staring at me with heat in her eyes.
I sat on the couch across from her, shifting as the uncomfortable heat started again in my belly, only rising the longer she went without saying a word.
“Strip,” she finally commanded. “Everything.”
With a shaky breath, I stood and slowly started to peel my clothes off. She never made a move, only her gaze took in every inch of me, never wavering.
I was self-conscious. Always had been. My boobs were too small. My ass felt too flat. I had little to no curves, but Emerson was looking at me like I was the most gorgeous girl on the planet.
Just like she did at the club.
It gave me the confidence I needed to do this. I wasn’t wearing much, so I unzipped the dress I’d chosen to take to her office, leaving me in my bra and panties.
The two things don’t even match, damn it! If I’d known I’d end up here today…
“I don’t care about your underwear, Pearl. I just want it on the floor where it belongs.”
Is she a mind reader now?
I looked her in the eyes as I took off the bra and then pulled down my panties.
“Good,” she said, her voice low as she set down her glass. “Now sit back down and spread your legs for me. Let’s see if my eager little slut is already wet for me.”
Electricity zapped up my spine.
She was fully clothed while I was naked, and somehow that heightened the experience. Shame licked at my skin, but it didn’t stop me. It heated me from head to toe, and all I wanted to do was whatever she told me to.
Emerson took in a sharp breath but made no move to come closer.
“So obedient. Your body’s begging for me to fuck you. Touch yourself.”
I leaned back against the couch, the soft fabric brushing against my hypersensitive skin. It was intoxicating. Her stare. Her smell. God, the entire fucking apartment felt like it was bathed in her intoxicating scent.
I gasped when my fingers hit my wet folds. I had felt my desire pooling but hadn’t realized how much I wanted her until now.
“Fucking weeping for someone to fuck it,” she said, her voice thick with want.
“For you,” I corrected. When my fingers brushed across my clit, she raised a brow.
“Did I say you could do that?”
“You told me to touch myself,” I replied and went one step further, circling my clit slowly. I was testing the waters of our… relationship? Seeing just how far she was willing to take it and how far I was willing to go. “You never said where or how. Specific, remember?”
I thought I saw amusement pass through her eyes, but it was gone in a second.
“Well played,” she said and took a drink. “You’ll pay for that. But not right now. Make yourself come.”
My breath caught.
“Just like this?” I asked and began circling my clit.
“Feel free to use whatever you think is necessary.”
The quirk of her lips told me she was excited to see what I had in store. But she was underestimating me.
I had changed. I wasn’t the kid I’d been back then, and Emerson was about to realize that. Not giving myself enough time to back out, I stalked around the table until I was in front of her.
“I won’t touch you,” she said. “You’re supposed to make yourself come.”
“Oh, you don’t need to be an active participant. I just need to borrow something.”
I sat myself down on her left leg. When she realized what I was doing, she shifted, giving me more space.
“Dirty girl, making a mess of my clothes.”
True to her word, her arms were up against the back of the couch. She wasn’t even trying to touch me. But just being this close to her made everything more erotic. We were about eye level, and if I couldn’t see the smirk on her face, I would assume she was unaffected by me.
But I can, and she isn’t.
“Lost your courage?”
Gritting my teeth, I anchored myself, one hand on the couch, the other on her arm, and ground my cunt down on her thigh. Pleasure immediately pulsated through me. I started a gentle rocking motion as my fingers dug into her.
The first moan that slipped free had her mouth opening just slightly.
“Such a pretty whore,” she cooed. “My pretty whore. You’re so desperate for this, aren’t you?”
Yes. But I couldn’t get the word out. Heat from pleasure and shame were all mixed together, sending my head spinning.
My hips picked up their pace, my movements becoming erratic. Quickly, the familiar tingling heat started to expand from my belly. I ground my clit on her thigh harder, all aware of just how intently she was watching me.
It made the whole thing that much hotter.
“Slowly,” she warned.
I whined in protest but listened to her, slowing my movements.
“Good,” she praised. “Now say it. Tell me how desperate you are.”
“So desperate,” I forced out. “For you. To come. I’ve been thinking about this since that phone call. It’s all I think about.”
“Is that so?”
Her eyes scanned my face before dropping down to my nipples. I let out a choked moan and pushed my chest out to her. My body was begging for her touch. My skin hot and sensitive just at the idea of it.
“Please, Emerson. Touch my nipples.”
“Only because my slut asked so nicely.”
I let out a cry when her fingers came to pinch one.
“More, Emerson. Please. I’m such a slut for you. Give me more. I need it. Your slut needs it.”
She leaned forward, her lips coming to my collarbone.
“So she can learn,” she whispered and dragged her tongue against my skin.
She started rolling my nipple between her fingers. I jerked my head back, my orgasm right there. So close I could almost—
“Now stop.”