Chapter 21
Calla
My pussy pulses with each of Blake’s words, nipples beading against the satin-like material of my dress. I ache to be touched by him, to be fucked by him.
Skin flushing with desire, I shift in my seat, pressing my legs together in a bid to quell the ache between the apex of my thighs, but it does no good. I’m drenched; my knickers standing no chance against the heat of Blake’s stare, cataloguing my every move.
A high-pitched chime of metal on glass grates through my ears, cutting through my reverie and causing me to grimace. I turn to see an unfamiliar looking gentleman on the makeshift stage, an empty flute of champagne in his hand.
“Who’s he?” Blake whispers, also looking at the man out of the corner of his eye.
“No clue. But he looks important.”
“This is the last call for drinks and bathroom breaks,” the gentleman continues. “Speeches will be starting in ten minutes and you’re not going to want to miss tonight’s special announcement. So please, ensure you have everything you need to stay seated.”
Grinning, he steps away from the microphone, chatter and the scraping of chairs being pushed back following in his wake.
Lacing my fingers with Blake’s, I run my nose along the length of his neck, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, achingly familiar to me now. “Let’s bunk off.”
He pauses mid sip of whisky. “Hm?”
“Let’s bunk off,” I repeat. “The speeches are boring as fuck and their special announcements are never as important as they make them out to be. Let’s go.”
I expect Blake to ask me where we’re going, but he doesn’t, instead allowing me to lead him away from our table.
Good.
I’m glad to be away from those gossipy bitches anyway. Co-workers or not; none of their opinions matter to me. I couldn’t care less what they think.
Blake and I disappear easily into the crowd of tailored suits and expensive dresses, blending in as if we, too, are off to get another drink.
Sidestepping a group, I peer down the ornate corridor where I know the toilets to be, at least according to the gold sign hanging above the archway and instead pull Blake down a much more dimly lit corridor.
“Feel like I’ve stepped back into the 1800’s… either that, or I’m in a game of Cluedo.”
I jiggle the first doorknob I come too, finding it locked shut. “Cluedo?”
“Yeah,” Blake laughs quietly. “Don’t you? With these old halls, decorated with creepy paintings and”— he runs his pointer finger along a sconce attached to the wall— “a shit load of dust. You can be Miss Scarlett and—”
“I’m not the one packing the weapon, though.” I make a show of looking at the noticeable bulge in his trousers. “That’s you.”
Blake swats me on the arse for that smart remark, pressing his front into my back and dipping his chin to mutter filth in my ear.
God, I can’t take much more. My legs feel like jelly, my pussy aching so bad I can hardly think straight.
Someone taps on the microphone again, the sound slightly muffled now we’re further away, but I can still make out bits and pieces. “This is your five-minute warning!”
“Hope you don’t think I’m going to be done with you in five minutes, sunshine.
” Blake moulds his hands to my hips when I jiggle with the doorknob attached to the third door down the corridor.
He grinds his hard on into my lower back, causing my breath to stutter out of me, my eyes falling shut.
“I’m not going to be done with you in fifty years, let alone five minutes. ”
That sounds an awful lot like Blake wants to keep me.
I can’t stop the glee his admission brings.
“It’s a good job I never want you to be done with me, then. Isn’t it?”
And with that, I twist the doorhandle, dragging Blake over the threshold when it gives way, allowing us to slip inside.
It’s quite obviously someone’s office.
Unforgiving amber low-lighting drenches the small space as soon as I flick on the tall lamp standing beside the doorframe, highlighting the mahogany bookshelves that cover the walls and the matching writing desk in the centre.
A maroon-coloured carpet covers the flooring, a matching set of heavy, expensive looking drapes hanging behind the writing desk.
Shutting the door behind us, Blake wastes no time in pushing me against the panelling, placing his lips on mine and devouring me whole.
I squirm when the brass doorknob digs uncomfortably into my lower back, scrambling to push his suit jacket from his broad shoulders and grinning into our kiss when I hear it hit the carpet with a muffled thump.
Hands roaming, I band my arms around his neck, pressing the length of my body to his until I feel the hard, thick length of him pressing into my lower stomach.
Before I can really feel my heeled feet moving, Blake is pulling me further in the confined space. Neither of us bothering to lock the office door.
I watch, feeling rather like I’m in a trance, as he swipes pots of pens, ink, papers and even a small grandfather clock to the side of the mahogany desk in haphazard strokes – so unlike his usual style.
“I can’t wait another second to have you,” he mutters deep into my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine.
Spinning me in his strong, corded arms, he pins my back to his broad chest and grabs at my hips. Placing a shiny patent dress shoe against the inside of my small foot, he gives me a quick tap before knocking my legs wider.
My pussy ripples at the possessiveness of his actions.
I hear, more than feel, Blake begin to pull the silver tap of my zipper, from the nape of my neck, down to the base of my spine, baring my body to him.
He pushes the material of my red dress from one shoulder and then the next, his hair tickling when he bends to kiss my flesh.
Broad hands, much bigger than my own, smooth up and down the ladder of my ribcage, before they reach forward, cupping my bare breasts.
The dress I’ve been wearing all evening didn’t allow for a bra, not unless I wanted lines.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d picked this particular dress because I wanted to see Blake’s reaction to me wearing it, but I certainly didn’t account for this when I was getting dressed.
Although, I’m certainly not complaining.
“No bra…” Blake tuts, resting his chin on my shoulder so he can whisper deep into my ear. His talented fingers pluck and strum at my sensitive nipples, pulling a whimper from the base of my dry throat. “Knickers?”
Sinking my teeth into my kiss bitten lower lip, I shrug.
Blake hums dangerously; the sound rumbling through me.
I feel him step back, the heat of his disappearing from my skin and I’m about to turn around and ask where’s he’s going, when Blake flattens a palm to the middle of my spine.
“Bend over, Calla.”
My pussy pulses with his words, slick sliding out of me to dampen my lace underwear. I do as he asks with question, gasping slightly when my bare breasts meet the cool surface of the writing desk.
Blake doesn’t bother with pulling my dress completely from my body, instead, he pushes the slinky material upwards until it pools at my waist. The heat of his eyes on my cloth covered core, my arse, the backs of my thighs has my skin prickling, anticipatory pleasure already zipping up and down my spine.
I jolt forward, panting into my forearms from where I’m laying my head, when I feel Blake’s thick knuckles, calloused with use, touch my core.
“Look at you,” he all but coos, voice low and gruff. “Already making a mess of your knickers. I bet you’re soaked, sunshine. Your little pussy swollen and greedy, begging for my cock. No one else’s. Mine.”
“Yours,” I promise on a whimper.
My clit begs to be touched, licked or sucked. Anything.
I bump my hips back in silent want, squeezing my eyes shut tight when Blake laughs.
“My greedy girl.” He pinches my clit. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna give you what you need.”
There’s no time for foreplay, not that I need it, I’m wet enough already; practically dripping down my thighs. Blake must feel the same overwhelming amount of heady desire, the type that pushes every other rational thought from your mind, leaving you with only one sole purpose.
To come.
I hear the teeth of Blake’s zipper, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and the rustling of his underwear, before he hooks his fingers into the sides of my underwear. He pulls the lace down, down, down, leaving it wrapped around one of my ankles.
I can’t hold back my shiver when I feel him slide the tip of his warm, hard cock up and down my wet folds, my pussy clenching down on thin air, trying to pull him inside.
“Stay still, sunshine,” he grits, flattening a palm to the base of my spine. Keeping me there.
Notching himself at my wet entrance, he slides in an inch at a time, stealing my breath from my lungs.
I bite down upon my hand, trapping the sound of my moans.
By the laboured sound of Blake’s breathing, and the quiet “Fucking hell” that slips past his lips, I’m guessing he’s having the same difficulty keeping quiet.
My toes curl in my heels, when his hips finally kiss the curve of my arse, closing my eyes shut at the exquisite feeling of being so full.
“God, you feel so deep, Blake. It’s like you’re in my fucking throat.”
“This pretty little throat?” He drapes his body over mine, cock pulsing inside of me, until he can collar me with his hand.
I nod, reaching forward to grip the desk. The movement slightly changes our position, eliciting a gasp from the both of us.
“You’ve gotta stay quiet unless you want everyone to find out what I’m doing to you, sunshine.
” Blake pulls his hips back and then pushes back inside of me, causing tears to build in my eyes with how fucking good he feels.
“Unless you’d like that? I can tell you’ve got a little bit of an exhibition streak in you. ”
I buck my hips back, baring my teeth. “And you haven’t?”
Blake fucks into me harder, pushing me forward until the edge of the desk bites into my hips. I don’t care. I hope it leaves bruises, little purple marks, so I can’t forget tonight.
“I didn’t know I was until I met you.” He swats at my arse, ripping the flesh. “But now, I can’t stop.”
“Please, Blake.” My voice breaks. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever fucking stop.”
Sucking at my fluttering pulse point beneath my ear, I feel my pussy walls tighten when Blake moves his hand to play with my clit.
I’ve been on edge for hours now, basically since Blake came to pick me up from my apartment, so it’s not surprising that I shatter quickly, my slick squirting out of me to stain Blake’s groin, my inner thighs, even the maroon carpeting beneath our feet.
“Thatta girl,” he praises. “Now, stay still and lemme fill you up, Calla.”
Moulding his hands to my hips, he fucks into me at a rapid pace, our skin slapping together, sending the writing desk scooting across the floor a couple of inches.
Neither of us really giving a fuck.
Groaning deep in my ear, I squeeze my eyes shut when he comes with a grunt of my name, the warm feel of him spraying my walls enough to send me spiralling.
Now, without the sound of our coupling, I can hear a raucous noise of applause coming from the ballroom.
Blake must hear it too, for he presses a kiss to my shoulder blade, before slowly pulling out of me. He fixes my knickers back into place and my dress too, zipping it back up and smoothing out any creases.
Standing on shaky legs, I inhale raggedly. Already, I can feel his warm cum seeping out of me, creating a sticky pool in my knickers. Just the thought alone has another flush of heat cascading over my skin.
I graze my lips across his, once, twice, before I grin at him, smacking my lips together to avoid us getting carried away again.
“You’ve got sex hair.” Blake smirks, reaching over to try and flatten my curls.
“You haven’t fared much better, mister,” I agree, dabbing at his mouth with my thumb to remove the bulk of my red lipstick.
With our clothes rumpled, but back in place, I cautiously pulled open the door, peeking my head out to peer left and right.
“Clear. I can’t really hear anything can—”
No sooner have the words left my mouth, then a raucous noise of applause sounded from the hall.
“Something good must have happened,” Blake mutters from behind me, urging me to step out into the corridor. “Come on.”
Footsteps swallowed by the ornate carpet beneath us, Blake and I creep to the archway, peering into the sea of tables.
I spot Thomas and his uncle on the stage, both wearing matching shark-like grins.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Thomas addresses the crowd, standing a step in front of his uncle.
“I am so grateful, and honoured, to be taking over from my uncle. He has created this company from scratch, from nothing, and I can’t wait to build on this amazing foundation we already have.
Yes, there will be some changes, but nothing major I promise… ”
The rest of Thomas’ words disappear into the background, replaced by the loud roaring of blood in my ears.
Thomas is taking over from his uncle.
Thomas is going to be my new boss.
Holy—
“Breathe, Calla,” Blake directs, gripping my hand tightly.
Gulping in a jagged breath, I tune back in to the bullshit Thomas McAvoy is spouting. I watch as he holds up a single finger, his eyes searching the crowd until they land. On me.
He smiles but it holds no warmth. I swear, nothing good can come of this. “One thing my uncle always taught me, something I feel is so important, is respect. As long as you respect me then I will respect you. That’s how this works.”
A second raucous round of applause follows Thomas’ words, some even standing up.
Leaning into Blake for support, I peer among the crowd until I find Carmen and her soon-to-be husband, Jack, noticing her withdrawn face.
“You alright?”
“I-I—”
“It’s okay.” Blake winds his arm around my waist, gently kissing the top of my head. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”