36. Salinger
36
SALINGER
“ I think you deserve something nice after that dinner.” Mandy leans up on her toes to kiss me when we’re back in my quiet penthouse. “Good thing you’re just my overbearing and way-too-involved boss and not actually trying to be my boyfriend.”
“I’d love to take you up on that offer, but I actually do have to work,” I murmur against her mouth, picking her up. I carry her, still kissing, through the penthouse to my study. “The question is are you going to be a good little girl and stay put, or am I going to have to lock you in the tower?”
“I’ll be good.” She grabs my hand. “And if you be good and don’t work too late, I’ll let you act out all your deep, dark evil-villain fantasies.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to let me conduct a hostile takeover of Google and corner the cloud-hosting market? ”
She slaps me lightly. “You really are thinking about work.”
My laptop is already open on my desk. I log in.
Ever since I learned of Mandy’s stalker problem, I haven’t been getting as much work done as I usually do. It isn’t entirely her fault, I think, remembering with annoyance how much time I’d spent the day before dealing with my runaway little brother.
There are hundreds of unread emails waiting in my inbox. Scanning through them, I land on one from Isaacs wanting to talk. “Off the record. Don’t tell Mandy.”
I make a note to give him a call Monday.
Another email asks for a quick call to review numbers from the Frankfurt office. While the German employees go home on the weekends, my American employees do not. After confirming on the internal chat program that the VP is free, I hop on a video call, fully in work mode.
It’s difficult to concentrate, though, when Mandy pads in barefoot, wearing just a thin T-shirt with no bra, her soft tits and hard nipples outlined under the shirt.
The VP hesitates when he sees my eyes wander.
“Yes,” I say sharply. “I agree that we do need to section off funds for a contingency in case the EU rules against the new dairy regulation. I would do a thirty-five-sixty-five split, not thirty-seventy.”
Mandy’s on my couch now, sitting cross-legged, fussing with her laptop and moving the pillows around.
When others see I’m online, I get more requests for calls—people wanting my decision on the value of certain development projects, needing me to sit in on meetings with high-value clients to smooth feathers and offer reassurances .
Mandy’s draped the blanket from the back of the leather couch around her, settling in the seat. She sips a glass of wine while she works on her laptop. Emails come in from her as she drafts responses for me on some of the more mundane requests.
I end my last call. There’s a lull before the calls from the Asia office start picking up.
“Take that off,” I say.
“This is my work-at-home attire,” she protests. “Unlike you, I don’t want to sit in my nice clothes all day. And okay,” she adds defensively, “none of my clothes are as nice as what you’re wearing, but I like to be comfortable. Do you ever wear anything other than a suit?”
“You saw me in workout clothes this morning.”
“Yeah, to work out, but like, when you go anywhere? You even slept in your suit.”
“Now that I normally do not do.” I loosen my tie.
The cover hides her delicious curves. “I want you to take off that blanket.”
“It’s cold.”
I stand up, go to the gas fireplace, and light it. The heat quickly fills the wood-paneled study.
“Now it’s not.” I tug the blanket off her shoulders, revealing the swell of her breasts, the thin fabric clinging to them, the milky curves of her thighs, the lacy pink triangle of fabric nestled between them.
Placing one hand on the back of the couch and leaning forward, I whisper in her ear, “I want to see your hard little nipples while I’m working. Keeps me entertained.”
There are two pink spots on her cheeks when I pull back.
I want to kiss her, but I don’t give in, because if I do, I won’t stop, and I really won’t get any work done .
My computer rings with an incoming call. “Salinger,” I bark after answering, my eyes still on her.
Fortunately I don’t need one hundred percent of my brain on the next few calls because Mandy is consuming an outsized portion of my mental bandwidth. She has the laptop propped up on a couch pillow beside her, obeying my order to not cover up with a blanket. She leans forward, legs tucked under her, the shirt fabric straining against the weight of her tits as she makes notes on the report that one of the senior investors sends over, prompting me in real time with questions and concerns I need to bring up.
“You’re the best assistant I ever had,” I tell her honestly when the call is done. I shut down the laptop, finally signing off.
It’s dark outside. The room is hot from the heat of the fire.
“I think that’s only because I promised to be the perfect little sex-toy prisoner.” Setting her laptop aside, she glides across the plush rug over to the oversized desk.
The laptop closes with a soft click, then she’s straddling me, her fingers working on my tie. The silky fabric slides over her fingers then flutters to the ground. The heat from between her legs makes me hard.
“I told you,” she murmurs as she kisses me. “I want you to use me however you want.”
I hiss as her fingers work the little pearly buttons on the dress shirt then scrape over my bare chest.
“I want to be your little plaything,” she purrs as her hands move lower. “Dominate me. Humiliate me. Claim me.”
Shit. That is all I want to do .
You’re supposed to keep her safe, not use her for some sick sex-slave play.
The sick twisted part of me that wants it, wants her to cry out in pain and pleasure, wants to feel her crack, feel her spirit yield to me.
“You don’t want me,” I say, voice harsh, “to use you like I want to.” I bite her on the chin.
She drags me back by the hair. “Do that on my tits.”
She lets out a little yelp as I clamp my teeth around the hard nipple, sucking on it through the T-shirt fabric. Teeth still on her nipple, I hook my fingers in the lacy band of her panties, tracing the seam, sliding the fabric in the smooth, wet slit of her cunt.
“Let me make your fantasies come to life,” she gasps. “I want you to choke me with your cock.”
“Shit.” I release her nipple.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” She’s smug.
“You don’t want to go there with me,” I warn.
She’s drunk. She’s out of control. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
Mandy leans forward, kissing me. Her tongue tangles with mine. Her hard nipples press against my bare chest as she grinds her cunt against my hard cock.
“I’m not some naive college girl you can impress with shitty missionary,” she whispers against my mouth. I still taste the wine she drank earlier on her tongue. “I want the deluxe package.”
“Even if I fucked you on your back with your legs around my waist, you wouldn’t dare say it was shitty.”
She palms me through the dress pants. I grab the back of her messy bun and stand. She slides off me to the floor.
My belt comes off easily .
“One hand. I bet you impress a lot of girls with that belt trick. Hope you’re not overcompensating for something.” Her hands are on my zipper.
I pull my cock out. “Don’t worry—you’re going to choke on it.”
Hand in her hair, I guide my thick cock into her mouth. She makes a low, strangled sound in her throat as I force my entire length in her mouth. She struggles briefly to breathe out of her nose, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck, Mandy, I told you not to go there with me.”
Her hands reach up to my wrists.
I slap her hands away with the belt. “Hands off me. I want to see you touch yourself.”
Her hands run hesitantly over her breasts.
“Open your eyes.”
She blinks up at me, her lips dark pink around my thick, throbbing cock. I pull out slightly then push in, fucking her mouth slow, not like I want to claim her pussy.
“Touch yourself. Yeah, one hand on your tit, just like that. Play with your nipple—that’s my good little prisoner. I want your other hand in your panties.”
It slips down.
“No, you need to enjoy it.” I slide my cock out of her mouth partway then snap my hips. She blows a breath out of her nose as she takes my length again.
As her fingers work under her panties, she moans low in her throat. Using the hand in the messy bun to keep her head still, I slowly fuck her mouth while she strokes her clit.
“Just wait until I have my huge cock buried in your cunt—or even better, your ass. That’s what you want, right? You want me to keep you handcuffed to my desk on your knees, mouth gagged so you can’t scream, waiting for me. And when I come in, you’re already perfectly trained, and you put that thick, curvy ass in the air, serving your pussy up just how I like it, letting me take you rough.”
The way her hips are rocking into her hand, she’s close. Releasing her hair, I grab her jaw, keeping her mouth open so she doesn’t bite off my cock. I almost come from her muffled screams of pleasure as she milks her own orgasm with her fingers.
She gasps for breath as I take my still-hard cock out of her mouth. She’s panting, her eyes still on mine.
“Had enough?” I ask. “Want me to finish it boring old missionary?”
In response, she leans forward and takes the head of my cock in her mouth again, sucking on it. She runs the tip of her pink tongue over the slit then takes it deep in her throat again.
“Shit, Mandy.” I nearly come in her mouth, but I force her away from me.
“He talks a good game. Too bad he can’t deliver.” Her voice is a little rough, and it’s really putting my cock through the ringer.
“You’re going to pay for that.” I sit back in my chair. “Turn around,” I order her. “Take those panties off.”
She bends over, slowly sliding them down, revealing her swollen pink cunt.
The panties aren’t even past her knees before I have my face pressed against the hot slit, lapping at the juices that run down her thighs now that the thin lace of the panties isn’t there to stop it. She gasps and wiggles her ass against me as I lick her.
I slap her ass. “I can’t decide if I want to come on your tits or your pussy. ”
She kicks off the panties. Now she’s free to spread her legs for me. I give her clit one teasing lick then pull her back so she’s sitting on my lap, her legs spread. I hiss as the wet heat of her pussy connects with my cock.
She feels it too.
“Yeah, work your pussy on my cock.” I pinch and tease and knead her tits as she grinds back on my cock, seeking the pleasure she craves. Her hot juices run over my thick cock, coating the length as she rolls her hips.
Using the desk to support her hands, she shifts forward, trying to rub her clit on my cock. The needy little moans she makes are going straight to my dick. I grit my teeth, not ready to come yet, not wanting it to end.
“I need your cock. I need to feel your cock in my tight little cunt,” she chants. “I’ve been a good girl, Mr. Svensson.” Shit, she’s really sending me close to the edge.
Her clit finally finds the angle she needs, then her pussy lips clench around the length of my cock. I grunt as she comes on me.
“I know you’re going to feel so good in my pussy,” she whimpers.
Before I lose it, I stand, pushing her forward face down onto the desk. She spreads her legs for me. Using two fingers, she spreads her cheeks, giving me the money shot. My balls tighten, then I blow my load.
“You feel that?” I grunt as my hot white cum shoots all over the pink rosebud, dripping down her pussy, coating her thighs.
She moans low in her throat and sprawls on the huge wooden desk. Before she can catch her breath, I slide my fingers through the wetness of her slit. Holding her hips down, I slide a cum-lubed finger in her ass. She forces out a curse as I work the finger inside of her, then a little cry as I add another and another. Moaning, she strains against me as the fingers of one hand work inside her while the other hand rubs her swollen clit.
It doesn’t take much before she’s coming on my hand, her curvy, cum-slick thighs shuddering.
I’m hard again.
I want her. I want to claim her, make her mine, dominate her, have her at my mercy.
Before I know what I’m doing, I have her wrists trapped in my hand, and I slam the belt on the table. She bucks against me.
“Fight me. It’s more fun if you fight, my little prisoner.” I kiss her neck. “You’re the one,” I remind her, tilting her head back to look at me, “who wanted me to treat her like my own little plaything, who wanted to let me use her pussy however I want and engage in my deepest, darkest fantasies.”
There’s... Is that fear in her eyes? Apprehension? Immediately, I release her, zip up my pants.
“Salinger?”
“I told you,” I say to her reflection in the window, turning my back to her. “I didn’t bring you here to fuck—I brought you here to keep you safe.”
“Right.” She chokes out the word then grabs her laptop and flees.