Kingston Tyler is sitting at his desk, his eyes on his computer screen.A frown line forms between his eyebrows while he concentrates.His dark hair is graying at the temples and whenever I see him, late in the evening, his five o’clock shadow is pronounced, with salt and pepper whiskers.
He shares his blue eyes with Joel, although Mr.Tyler’s eyes are more somber, a blue-gray that reminds me of punishing ocean waves, the kind I see in news footage of hurricanes on the east coast.
While I’m staring moony-eyed at him through his office window, he looks up.Those powerful blue-gray eyes clash with mine.Shit, fuck.Face flaming, I look away quickly and focus on the immaculate carpet in front of me.
No wonder he looked over; I’ve been working on this patch of the hallway for at least five minutes.I should’ve moved on already.Quickly, I push the vacuum forward, away from Mr.Tyler’s office.Working on the top floor of Tyler Analytics building is a dream come true, and I don’t want to fuck it up because of a ridiculous obsession with the CEO.
My boyfriend’s dad.
For fuck’s sake, Ella, what the hell are you doing?It isn’t the first time I’ve asked myself this question.
After five more minutes of mindless vacuuming, I head to the supply closet and ease open the door.I step inside and close the door after me.
The only light in the room comes from the crack at the bottom of the door, but I can smell Joel’s cologne so I know he’s already here.
“Hey,” he says, embracing me in the darkness.
I long to feel myself pushed up against the wall and fucked, but he merely holds me for a moment.I hug him back and accept his brief kiss.I hope he brought a condom, because even though he’s promised we’re exclusive, I’m not ready to trust him enough to fuck without protection.
Been there, done that.Got the t-shirt from the STD testing clinic to prove it.
My eyes adjust to the dim lighting.We’re surrounded by shelving units bearing cleaning supplies.I’m no stranger to this room—I frequently have to come in here to get my job done.
Joel steps away, unfastens his pants, and pulls out his cock.I reach for him, eager to feel him inside of me, even though his track record of satisfying me is spotty at best.Still, a girl’s gotta have hope.I can be fast with rubbing myself, and I might come while he’s still inside of me.
Sometimes I wonder if he even cares about giving me release, though.He occasionally goes through the motions of reciprocation, but it does nothing for me.
For being twenty-five years old, you’d think I would have more self-respect.Either I should make more of an effort to teach him what works for me, or I should cut him loose and find someone who makes me happy.
But…I haven’t worked up the nerve to do either of those things.
Instead of fumbling with my clothes, Joel presses down on my shoulder.
Freaking great.He wants head.I lower to my knees.The linoleum is cold and hard against them.I take his dick in my mouth, irritated at the way this is going.He certainly won’t press me against the wall and give me head after.
“Yeah, baby, like that,” Joel moans as I swirl my tongue over his cock.
I wonder if he calls me “baby” because he forgets my name in the heat of the moment.Last week, he called meCarolinstead ofElla.No harm, no foul.Since the name slip-up, I feel no guilt when I imagine I’m sucking Mr.Tyler instead of Joel.I hope that doesn’t make me a terrible person, but I would never accidentally call Joel by his dad’s name while in the throes of passion.
Especially if no throes are to be had.
I’ve tried directing Joel and asking him for what I want—something a little rough, a little dark, a little dirty.Whenever I ask, he smiles and kisses my cheek before laying me out on his office floor, where we do it missionary style and he breathes against my neck, never looking me in the eyes.
So I’ve stopped asking.
But now as I suck Joel, I think of his father, who is all gruff command, salt-and-pepper whiskers at the end of a long day, and frowning disapproval at everyone he sees.My panties grow damp at the thought of that disapproving, stern scowl directed at me.I don’t understand why, but the thought of Kingston Tyler’s stormy eyes locked on me and looking furious while I suck him off justdoes itfor me.
My hand creeps down to the hem of my work uniform—a plain, navy sack of a dress with a prim white collar and cap sleeves.I reach between my legs and touch myself over my panties.If I move quickly enough, I could get off like this while I give Joel head.
I’m thinking of Mr.Tyler, imagining the way he’d be a little rough, maybe holding my head as he fucks my mouth.I hum around Joel’s cock at the idea, then dip my fingers inside my panties to stroke against my clit.
Little sparks of bliss gather in my pussy.My muscles clench on emptiness and I wish for a great big cock.I could be fucking a man who holds me down, restrains me, maybe blindfolds me so I’m wholly dependent on whatever sorts of filthy pleasure he feels like doling out.
Maybe that man could be someone like Kingston Tyler.
I bet he would pull me up to standing and push me against the wall and give me head.His whiskered cheeks would scrape against my inner thighs.He’d wait until I’m just about to come, and then he’d stop, spin me around, and fuck me from behind.I would scream with pleasure.
Arousal coats my fingers as I slide them over my folds.It would be so good with a man like Mr.Tyler.He would boss me around.Maybe even spank me.
