Amelia Iend up working much later than I even thought I’d have to. I call Annabelle to let her know I’m not going to be back to make her dinner, and feel a wave of guilt when she tells me she’s just going to grab something simple. I beg her not to eat junk, but I know my sister. She would survive on Hot Pockets alone if I let her. I hang up, reminding her that there are apples in the fruit bowl, and hope for the best. Still, I’m glad I’m helping Kaitlin. The work she has sent to me is very informative about the merger, providing me with context for what Crawford is currently doing and the existing issues he’s facing. At 8 p. m. I click send on the final email, breathing a sigh of relief, just hoping I’ve done everything correctly for Kaitlin’s sake. I’m starving and looking forward to something wholesome for dinner. I decide that I’ll go by the pasta place on the way home. That way, I can pick up enough for me, Annabelle, and my parents. I am just rising from my chair when the buzzer on my desk goes off. I stare at it in surprise, realizing that I haven’t seen Crawford all afternoon, and he must still be in his office. Does the man ever pee? “Could you come in here for a moment, Miss Brooks?” I glance around me. The office is pretty much deserted at this time of night, and I’m still not sure how he knows I’m out here. I go to the door and knock, glancing at the clock. Technically, I’m outside my working hours, and I wonder what he needs me to do. The butterflies in my stomach multiply as I wait for him to allow me inside, wondering whether this will be a polite dismissal as he moves on to the next escort. When I enter, Crawford is sprawled in one of the chairs opposite his desk, drinking a glass of amber liquid. I hover as the doors swing shut, watching him curiously. “Why are you still here? Have you been sticking hundreds of tabs to everything you’re printing for me?” My lips twitch at his amused tone. “No. If it’s helpful though, I’ll ke ep adding them in.” “It is. You can ke ep doing it.” New York City is laid out before us through the giant windows, twinkling lights reflecting the last rays of the sun. Everything is hazy, clouds moving quickly between skyscrapers on the horizon. “Come here, please,” he says softly, and I walk over to stand in front of him. He leans back, assessing me, placing his drink on the table to the left of the chair. “Why are you here so late?” he asks. “I was finishing something for Kaitlin.” He inclines his head. “I’ve heard glowing r eports. Julia thinks you’re excellent, and she’s pretty hard to impress.” “Well, once I’ve impressed Beatrice, I’ll be more confident I won’t be fired.” I bite my tongue. Why the hell did I say that? I obviously need food; my brain is getting foggy.
Crawford snorts. “There’s no chance of you getting fired unless I get rid of you.” He shifts his butt back in the chair, widening his legs. “And I don’t have any plans to do that at the moment.” At the moment... not the glowing endorsement I was hoping for. His hands move to his fly, and he unzips it slowly. “I’ve had a shitty afternoon, and I’m pretty pent up. I know you’re off the clock, but I wondered if you’d agree to a little extension of your hours. I’ve cleared it with Sterling House, but I won’t ask anything from you if you need to head home for the night.” I shift my weight, irritated that my body is screaming for me to straddle his lap. I should be eager to get home, but that pulse of heat is drawing me to him. I hesitate as he relaxes further back in his chair, stroking his cock in a languid motion through his pants. “Plus,” he says, his eyes glinting at me. “I can’t get the image of your mouth on my dick out of my head.” He lifts his hips a little. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.” I glance back at the windows and the endless sea of lights stretching out ahead of us. “Want me to give us some privacy?” he asks, brandishing the little remote. I feel a surge of excitement that I didn’t expect. The idea of being watched from afar makes something dark and primal wake up inside me. I never knew I had such a fascination with exhibitionism. It’s amazing the things I’ve discovered about myself in a few short days. I shudder. “You can leave the windows as they are.” I kneel in front of him, and he leans his head back on a long groan. “Fuck that’s hot. Alexa, dim the lights.” The glow all around us lowers, and I feel my shoulders relax at the darkened setting. At least if I’m terrible at this, he won’t be able to see how hard I’m concentrating. He opens his fly and pulls out his cock. It’s even bigger up close. I lean forward, putting my lips around the tip as it throbs against my tongue. His hand comes to the base to steady it. I want to ask him what he likes, what I can do that’ll make him crazy, but I’m too nervous to ask the question. My tongue runs over the head, and he sinks into his chair as I push my mouth over the tip. It’s thicker than I imagined, and as I lower over it, his breath hitches. I ke ep my teeth covered, licking the base with my tongue. I can feel the vein pulsing beneath it, and as I imagine what I must look like, I feel the ache between my legs intensify. Is there someone watching us right now from one of the other buildings? Can they see me sucking him off? I begin to bob along the length. As my mouth gets further down the shaft, he releases the base, his hands moving to rest on the arms of the chair. I take over, putting my thumb and forefinger in place of his, as his cock strokes the top of my mouth. I pull back, tightening my lips around the head, satisfied when he groans low at the back of his throat. “Fuck yeah.” The dim lighting is helping my confidence as I continue. I grow bolder, going de eper with each pass, feeling the head of his dick push against the roof of my mouth each time.
As I suck it, moving my tongue around it, his hand comes to rest on my head. His fingers tighten and loosen before threading through my hair. His cock touches the back of my throat, and it clenches tight as I pull back. I suppress the urge to gag. “Stop.” His hands move to either side of my head, taking a gentle hold. “Do that again.” I look up at him, his dark eyes glittering in the half light, but his gaze is so intense I can’t look away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers. “I’ll go slow. But man, I love seeing you choke on me.” A moan breaks free unbidden. Why is that so hot? I move my mouth over his cock again. His fingers brush gently against my hair as I open my mouth. I lower steadily, slowly, going further than I did before, until I gag on the tip as it pushes against my throat. His hands move to either side of my head. “Look at me.” I do, my mouth still encircling his cock. “I want to fuck your mouth.” He lowers his hips, and his cocks slips out of my mouth with a soft pop. “Put your hands on my knees.” I do it without question, captivated by that steady, heated stare. “If I go too far, or you want me to stop, you remove your hands. Is that clear?” I nod. “I want you to tell me, Amelia. Are you okay for me to do this? I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.” I nod again. “I want you to do it,” I say softly. He closes his eyes. “Alright. Ke ep your hands on my knees like I said. Take them off if you want me to stop, and I’ll pull out.” Then he grips my head harder, lines my mouth up with his cock, and thrusts back in. I gag, fighting for breath, but he pulls back before I panic. He begins to shove his hips forward, sitting up in his chair as he starts to drive up into my mouth, grunting with every pass. “Fuck, Jesus, Fuck,” he mutters, his fingers tightening in my hair as my hands grip his knees so tightly it must be hurting him. His dick hits the back of my throat, tight and hard, lingering there for seconds only before he pulls back again. I would never have thought I could be turned on by being used like this, but I can feel myself leaking down my thigh. His movements become more frantic, holding me steady, using my mouth as a vessel for his pleasure. I don’t know why, but having him controlling my movements, not letting me participate, sends shuddering waves of pleasure through me. Suddenly, he’s pulling out of my mouth, with a groan, and then he stands, tugging me to my feet. He rips off my jacket and shirt, the buttons popping everywhere, and then shoves me onto the seat where he was just sitting. He grabs my arms, pushing them over my head as he takes the tie from his neck and ties my wrists to the headrest on the chair above me. I’m splayed out, legs wide as his huge cock butts against the hem of my skirt.
He shoves it up to my hips, licking at my breasts over the top of my bra as he pushes my legs up, pulling off my pantyhose and underwear. Someone is making high-pitched, moaning sounds, and it takes a moment for me to realize it’s me. I cry out as his fingers move between my legs. “Christ, you’re soaked for me,” he murmurs, swearing under his breath as he pushes two fingers into me, his other hand reaching behind to the little silver pot on the desk and rummaging inside for a condom. There’s a little clink as the lid topples onto the floor. Then he returns to me, pulling his fingers free and rolling the condom onto his cock. Without hesitation, he lines up his dick, pushing into me in one hard thrust. I scream, and this time he doesn’t cover my mouth. My wrists are tied, and I can’t touch him. I can’t move. I’m pinned beneath him, and he’s slamming into me harder than he ever has before. I’m coiled upward, my ass off the chair, my wrists fighting against their bonds, and I start to cry out with every thrust. The angle is painfully good. I look up at him and for a moment, our eyes connect and hold, and I’m floored by how desperate I am to please him. In that second, I would do anything for this man, let him use me for whatever he wanted. Then I feel my orgasm rush through me so fast I can barely breathe, and I moan, writhing upward off the chair as he takes a brutal hold of my hips and shoves his cock in me so hard it feels like he’s splitting me in two. I feel him come as his hands support me, suspended there like we’re levitating. It’s the best feeling in the world. My body is aching, used and burning, but if he asked to fuck me again, I’d spread my legs and let him do it in a heartbeat. “Holy shit.” Crawford lowers me gently down to the chair as he pulls slowly out of me, panting heavily. “God, that was good.” With a flick of his wrists, he unties me and gently, almost tenderly, pulls me back to a more comfortable position. He pulls my skirt down over my legs, giving a low chuckle as he tries to rectify my ruined shirt. It’s a lost cause. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away. Is that all you have to wear?” he asks, and I nod. “Christ, what an idiot. Give me a sec.” After he deals with the condom and zips up his pants, he moves to a panel on the wall to the left of his desk. I stare in disbelief as a whole closet opens up with rows of beautifully ironed shirts inside. He bypasses them, rummaging beneath them, and then pulls out a white T-shirt. “Could you wear this home? I’m sorry, I’ll order some more shirts from Ellie. She’d have my ass if she saw the mess I made of that one.” I stand up, shucking off the remnants of my shirt. I’m still recovering from the sex, my body languid and aching pleasantly. He’s holding the t-shirt out to me, and I take it from him, pulling it on as his eyes
linger on my breasts. Looking at the floor, I notice buttons scattered all over the place. I bend down, beginning to pick them up, but a hand touches my arm, and Crawford pulls me upright. “You don’t have to do that; it’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.” He looks angry suddenly, and I stare at him, unsure what I’ve done to piss him off. He doesn’t meet my eyes as he st eps back, and I awkwardly tuck the T-shirt into my skirt. He’s staring at the wall like I’m not even here, and I want to run from the office in embarrassment. This guy gives me the best orgasm of my life, and then he treats me like a l eper. “Was that okay?” I look up, surprised by the question. There’s a vein throbbing in his forehead, and I frown at him, confused by the concern in his eyes. “What do you mean?” I ask stupidly, and he turns to face me. “I didn’t ask about tying you up. I should have. It’s not okay to do that without discussing it first. If you don’t like it, tell me, and I won’t ever do it again.” There’s real worry in his eyes. I glance at the headrest of the chair where my wrists were tied. I can still feel the slight abrasion against my skin. I didn’t even think about it. I was just obsessed with the pleasure. I look back at him, shaking my head. “I didn’t mind it,” I manage, seeing his frown de epen. “I mean. I enjoyed it.” Crawford’s shoulders relax as he st eps up to me. Reaching around to the chair behind, he picks up my jacket, holding it out and waiting expectantly. I turn, and he pulls it over my shoulders. To my surprise, his hands settle on my waist, and he spins me back around. We’re inches apart, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. His eyes are fixed on my lips, but instead, he just gives me a little smile. “You’re not just saying that?” he asks. “No,” I say firmly. “You’re right, we should have talked about it beforehand, but I wouldn’t lie about it. I promise.” He nods, and I feel his hips push against me and suck in a sharp breath. “So you like being tied up?” I’m about to say “Evidently,” but stop myself. I don’t need him to think I’m any less experienced than he already does. “Yes,” I confess, the realization as unexpected as it is true. “Have you ever been spanked?” he asks, his voice low and intimate in the dark. I shake my head. “How about toys?” I shake my head again. “Would you be opposed to using some?” My throat tightens. “I... I never have.” “Hm. I like that.” He lets me go, walking to the other side of the office, and returns with a small box in his hand. “I’m not sure if this is against the rules, but these are for you,” he murmurs. “Technically, they’re a gift, but more for me than you. If you ever want to use them and send me some photographs, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Or, if you prefer...” His voice is like silk, “Just play with them on your own time, that’s fine too.” Slowly, I open the box, seeing a series of shiny metal items lined up inside. There are five of them of varying sizes. I don’t even know what any of them do, really, but I’m sure he intends for me to find out.
I close the box again, my body throbbing with need. He leans forward, his nose almost brushing mine before he pulls back again. For a moment, he seems a little confused, as if trying to work something out. “You look good in my clothes,” he says, and then turns back to his desk and goes to sit down. It’s a dismissal I’ve come to expect from him. He never says much after our encounters, just goes back to work. I don’t mind; it certainly makes things less awkward for me. I exit his office, holding the box like dynamite. Tugging my jacket around me self-consciously, I shut down my computer and grab my bag, shoving the ‘toy box’ inside to examine later. The rest of the office is silent as I make my way to the elevators, but as I pass the kitchen, I almost collide with Beatrice, who comes out holding a cup of coffee. I st ep back. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.” Her eyes linger on the collar of Crawford’s T-shirt, and I fight to ke ep my expression neutral. “What are you doing here so late? Is Kaitlin palming off her work on you again?” Her tone isn’t teasing or amused; it has a cruel inflection to it that I don’t appreciate. I barely know Kaitlin, but I already feel some loyalty to her, and don’t like the look Beatrice gives me. “No. I was organizing a few things for a meeting tomorrow.” Beatrice glances at Crawford’s door. “He hasn’t left yet, has he?” Was that a weighted question? Oh God, did she hear us? “No.” “Hmm. Well, you’d better run along then,” she says and walks back to her desk. I scurry away, feeling her eyes on my back until I reach the elevators.