After Hours

  After Hours

  An erotic short story

  Jasmine Belle

  All Characters within are works of fiction. Any resemblance to persons either living or dead are strictly coincidental.

  This work is © 2012 Jasmine Belle, all rights reserved.

  Please don't steal this. Feel free to lend it as often as you like, but the author worked very hard on it, and distributing unpurchased copies is illegal and frankly makes it harder for her to pay the bills. Please be considerate of her need to keep the lights on and the laptop charged.

  I knew he'd walked into the room from the faint smell of expensive cologne. That was one of the things I’d noticed about him when I first started working as his personal assistant: the man was subtle. Never flashy, never overdone.

  Erik walked around the desk, the fingers of his left hand just barely brushing the polished mahogany of its surface. It was simple and uncluttered, just a flat space with a computer monitor to one side and a tidy in-box on the other. Casual clients would see it and think the man who sat behind it was prosperous, but not wealthy. Not better than them.

  More worldly customers would see the expert lines of the desk, know the expensive nature of the wood, and understand that they dealt with a person that knew how to manage appearances. When you're dealing with the sums of money we handle on a daily basis, that's the sort of confidence you want.

  For me, the desk was always viewed in two ways: professionally, as I sat across from it in the morning when Erik and I met to discuss the day's agenda, and in a more...recreational sense when the other workers had gone home and the two of us used it in a way that bosses and secretaries have been for as long as that relationship has existed.

  At the moment, everything was business. Except for that gentle touch, which would be playing through my head all day. It wasn't coincidence that Erik had put his fingers in that spot: the night before, I had been pushed back onto that very place, and shown that his tongue was good for more than just sweet-talking clients.

  He sat down, putting his jumble of folders and paperwork in front of him. It never ceased to amaze me that such a suave and meticulous man could be such a slob when it came to organizing his work. That's why he hired me, though, so I can't complain too much.

  *

  “Goodnight, Jules,” Carlos said as he locked his office, giving me an awkward wave as he juggled his briefcase and keys.

  I grinned at him. “I plan on having an excellent night, actually.”

  Carlos rolled his eyes before glancing at the door to the corner office where Erik was putting the last touches on a proposal that could double our profits for the year.

  “Yeah, I bet.” There wasn't any judgment in his tone, but just a hint of the protectiveness I’d come to accept from my coworkers. Even the other women didn't seem to hold it against me that I was sleeping with our boss, and at first I wondered about it. I've never lied when asked, which seemed to make people more open when talking to me, and it probably helps that I don't take advantage of it. Or at least I don't try to. Erik was very straightforward about what our relationship means. No attachments, no interfering with our work. Just good, old-fashioned fun between two consenting adults.

  I was just fine with that. I'd only been in the city a few months, and I was already in the middle of a dry spell before that. Finding a job that payed well was a huge stroke of luck. Finding a man that was willing to meet my needs without all the bullshit that goes along with a relationship was almost a miracle. If that came with a few conditions, I was and am more than happy to work with them.

  I'm really good at my job, and Erik never shows me any special treatment. Well...that's not entirely true, since I'm pretty sure that he doesn't give any of my coworkers orgasms on a regular basis, but as far as office hours, I'm just the same as anyone else.

  Fortunately, office hours were over. Carlos was the last person in the place besides the boss and I, which meant that the sooner Erik finished his proposal, the better.

  *

  I tidied up the office while I waited for Erik to finish his work. I could hear him tapping away at his keyboard while I worked, the anticipation building in me as I moved from desk to desk, grabbing forgotten papers that needed to be filed and making sure no one had left any important documents out where they could be seen.

  You might be thinking that I'm some dumb stereotype, right? The woman who screws her boss like the personal assistants in movies and TV shows do? You might think I’m just reinforcing that idea by cleaning up while I wait on His Holiness to finish up, yeah?

  First, I don't give a damn what anyone thinks. I'm good at my job, and I act like a fine oil to keep this place running smoothly. Profits have risen fifteen percent in the time I've been here, which is the largest quarterly increase Erik's little firm has seen since he founded it. When I make suggestions, lowly secretary that I am, people have learned to listen.

  Second, I'm a little obsessive about cleaning and making things neat. I don't take five showers a day or anything, but I can't stand to leave things out of place or undone. That's just my own little psychosis. We've all got them.

  Hence the cleaning. I had just finished checking the last desk when I heard the typing from Erik's office stop. His chair creaked, and I knew he was leaning back, stretching his arms high above his head while the shirt that had started the day finely pressed stretched its now-rumpled creases over the washboard abs he worked so hard to maintain.

  Carrying the small stack of paperwork with me, I went into his office.

  He was still leaned back in his chair, hands behind his back and a look of utter contentment on his face. I was surprised to hear him humming softly as well, which explained why he hadn't heard me come in. Erik never ignored people. The salesman in him was so deeply ingrained that he couldn't help but interact with others.

  I set the papers down on a side table loudly enough to be heard, and he opened his eyes at once. There was something in them. Something with an edge, like teeth or knives. Something wicked and dirty.

  Excellent.

  *

  As I stood with my hands on the glass-smooth surface of his desk, arching my back to stretch tired muscles, Erik moved around me. I knew he was completing the first part of our (almost) nightly ritual—two flutes of a deep red wine, sweet and rich. I smiled, eyes still closed, as he pressed against me from behind.

  “There you go,” he said, lips almost against my ear. I never got used to how deep his voice was, a slight rasp giving it the same sense of age as the dark wine in the glass before me.

  I raised the glass and tossed it back quickly.

  “Mmm,” I said. “That's good. As always.”

  Erik laughed, low and musical. “You never take the time to savor it. You just gulp it down like you haven't got a moment to waste.”

  I turned on the spot and let my hands slip below his belt. I felt him through pants that cost more than my rent, hard as stone and straining the fabric.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Don't you think I have better things to do than drink?”

  He smiled at me again, raised his own glass with a small salute, and downed it in one go. “Maybe we should take up whiskey. It's more suited for shots.”

  He was in a good mood. I knew business was going well, but Erik's good moods made him playful. Talkative. Slow. I needed to let of steam, and if I didn't stop him he'd get off track.

  So I moved my hands to his belt and unclasped it with a practiced gesture.

  My eagerness caught him off guard. Surprised, he said, “Wow, you're ready to go tonight, aren't--”

  I knelt down and put his cock in my mouth, which pretty much ruined his ability to have conversations beyond a few words.

  I felt his hands moving through my hair, finge
rs digging into the artful curls I’d spent so much time perfecting. The soft fullness of my lips glided over the steel hardness of his cock as he pulled my head toward his hips, thrusting against my face. He wasn't rough, never rough, but strong and steady. Even as my tongue worked around his shaft, rubbing his head as it moved across, he was in control.

  I felt myself getting wet, really wet, and slid my hand under my skirt. I’d taken my panties off long before, so there was no annoying fabric to deal with. Nothing but my fingers and that wetness, rubbing in time with Erik's increasingly wild thrusts.

  Erik moaned, loud and unrestrained. His hips bucked against my face, faster and faster, the deep thrumming in his shaft matching the rising tension in my body. My hand worked harder, faster, urging the full-body orgasm climbing its way through me to escape.

  Erik came in my mouth just as the wrenching spasms overtook me. I was still shaking with them as he knelt down before me. Looking me in the eyes, he said:

  “That's one.”

  *

  He swept me to the floor, careful to keep me from banging my head as he lay me on my back. Somehow Erik managed to snag my shirt in the process, whipping it over my head. I lay there with only my bra on top, my skirt pushed up to my waist. Erik was already between my legs, hands sliding up the stockings I wore just for him and moving over the garters scented with the perfume I knew was his favorite.

  “What's the boss-man gonna do now?” I teased.

  Erik worked his way over me, sliding a hand beneath my back and unhooked my bra with a snap of his fingers. Literally a snap—he'd practiced. With a smooth motion he pulled it away and flung it across the room.

  “I'm going to give you a bonus,” Erik said.

  I was ready, legs spread and more than ready for him to be inside me, but he had other ideas. Erik ran the backs of his fingers along my thighs as he left tiny kisses on my stomach and chest. His other hand once more found my hair, pulling my head back and arching my neck as he licked it.

  Small bites turned to sucking, his free hand slipping into my pussy. Thrust after thrust, hard and sharp, each one bringing a small gasp of pleasure from my lips, each accompanied by another small bite on my throat. I was almost dripping when he moved his face down to a nipple, tongue flicking back and forth with maddening rhythm.

  I came again, this time with his fingers inside me. It was full-body, deep as mountain lakes and rippling through my muscles like waves.

  “Oh, fuck,” I said. “Oh my fucking god, Erik.”

  The only response I got from him was another deep chuckle. I was so consumed by the aftershocks that I didn't even notice he'd moved down my body until I felt the warmth of his mouth on my pussy. His tongue darted out again, this time teasing my clit, and I was hit with a lightning bolt of pure ecstasy.

  “Mmmmygoddamn,” I mumbled, my lip between gritted teeth.

  Erik chuckled, the low hum resonating against the part of me in his mouth. I moaned. Again.

  I grabbed his hair, pulling him hard against my hips as a wrapped my legs around his shoulders and down his broad back.

  Still his tongue worked, picking up speed one second, relaxing and light another. My pulse pounded in my ears but drowned out by my now-constant moans.

  In no time at all, I was on the edge of coming a third time. Erik felt it too, again slipping his fingers inside me, pushing deep as he sucked on my clit, rolling it against his tongue.

  Just as I was about to climax, the first tremors causing my legs to shake, he pulled away completely.

  And just sat there smiling at me with the devil in his eyes.

  With an inhuman shriek, I bowled him over and straddled him. Grasping his cock probably a little harder than was absolutely necessary, I guided him inside me. He tried to sit up, to touch me, but I shoved him back down and dug fingernails into his chest until he grimaced with pain.

  There was no art to it. I bucked my hips against his, hard and fast, trying to catch the fading edge of the orgasm that almost was. It only took a few seconds for his expression to lose the mischievous cast, his mouth falling open in an O of bliss. He tried to move his hips with mine, but I told him to stop it with my nails.

  He was going to take it. He was going to lay there and not move, and this time he wouldn't be able to stop before I was done. Bastard. Playful, amazing bastard.

  Both of us were making noises that were almost animal as the tide of pleasure moved through us. Erik grabbed my hips almost hard enough to bruise, pulling me against him as he pushed into me, all thoughts of maintaining control gone.

  With a graceful flip, I was on my back again. He pulled my legs up over his shoulders, his hands splayed on the ground at my sides. He jackhammered into me, hard, so hard, so wonderful. My hands moved above my head with minds of their own as they tried to find purchase for me to push back with. That ripple was moving though me again, more powerful than ever, and I wanted nothing more than for him to be as deep inside me as he could.

  I was on the edge again when a wracking spasm moved across his muscled frame. His strokes became frenzied and fierce, his cock diamond-hard as he came inside me. The tide within crested in perfect sync with him, my pussy gripping him a dozen times in seconds as I screamed with release.

  As always, Erik lowered himself slowly down on top of me, head resting between my breasts as he struggled to catch his breath.

  “So,” he said, his chest still moving in ragged bursts against me. “Was that enough for you?”

  I resisted laughing. No matter the circumstances, men always react badly when you laugh too close to sex. Like they're supposed to have fucked the sense of humor right out of you or something.

  “It was amazing, Erik,” I replied honestly. Then I reached down and tilted his head up until he way looking at my face.

  “But I still want a raise after this deal goes through,” I added.

  Hey, for me, business and pleasure don't have to live in separate houses.

 

 

  Jasmine Belle, After Hours

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