“I’m sorry, Sir,” I cry in a breathless moan.
His punishing thrusts slow as he comes with a loud groan. Only a second after he finishes, I’m gathered up into his arms. Still inside me, he turns my upper body and kisses me with so much passion, I nearly melt into the rug. Strong arms wrap around my middle, squeezing me tight.
Is it supposed to feel this good or am I just wishing for too much? Not just the sex, although that’s great. But the way Emerson makes me feel, so secure and loved. I mean…he just finished calling me a dirty slut and I still feel as if he never truly talks down to me or makes me feel substandard, even as we play roles where I am literally inferior to him.
It all feels so ironically surreal. Like this isn’t supposed to work, but it does. And I know this is just a temporary thing, and I’m not supposed to get attached, but deep down I’m holding on to the hope that Emerson will get over the fact that I dated his son and let this thing between us be real.
And I really should have learned my lesson by now when it comes to hoping. It always ends in disappointment.
RULE #25: GIVE HIM THE OPPORTUNITY TO SURPRISE YOU, AND HE WILL.
Charlotte
“Don’t you think I’m a little old for a pi?ata?” Sophie asks, while I’m standing on a ladder in the middle of the skating rink.
“Ummm…I’m six years older than you and I’m gonna whack the fuck out of this thing and enjoy every second of it.”
She rolls her eyes. As I climb down, we admire my handiwork.
“I think it looks great!”
“It looks like a giant penis with herpes,” she replies, and I gasp. She’s cracking up as I shove her.
“It’s a mushroom! I worked all night on this.”
“First of all, they’re toadstools, and I think the top part is supposed to be a lot bigger.”
“Well…”
“I’m just kidding.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me in a bear hug. “I love it.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze her back.
“Besides…we’re going to whack it until stuff comes out right, so it might as well be a pen—”
“Sophie Underwood!” I shriek. “You’re fifteen years old! Watch your mouth.”
She’s cackling as she jogs over to the party table where Mom is setting up the snacks and drinks. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I fish it out.
“I’m gonna tell Mom what you just said!” I yell to my sister as I swipe open my phone to check my messages.
My heart picks up when I see Emerson’s name. And his message makes me pause for a moment.
I need you to come in immediately.
I quickly type out a reply.
Why? What’s wrong?
I miss you.
We should talk about you working on the weekends. I can’t be expected to read my own emails for two days straight.
My smile stretches across my face, and I know I look like an idiot, standing out here smiling so bright my face hurts.
I’ll come over tonight,
I reply.
What are you doing right now?
I have to think for a moment about how to respond. I’ve talked to Emerson about my personal life, but that was when I was just his employee. Everything’s changed. I shouldn’t be so nervous about sharing a little more with him. It’s not like we’re dating. We’re just exclusively screwing—a lot—and occasionally role playing some kinky secretary stuff.
But with all the screwing and foreplay, it feels strange to bring in regular life stuff. He wants to see me naked and fuck me over his desk, but does he care about my home life or what I do for fun? I want to say he does, but that’s my hope talking.
I’m about to respond with something flirtatious like Thinking of what you did to me yesterday, but that’s not what my fingers type out. Instead, I send him…
Setting up for my little sister’s birthday party at the rink. She turned fifteen today.
It’s quiet for a while. No typing bubbles. No texts or pics.
I take the ladder back to the storage closet and just as I shut the door, my phone vibrates.
What time is the party?
Three. I’ll be done by six, and I’ll head over.
I’m sure my sister will be busy hanging out with her friends. She only has a couple friends whose parents let them come to our house for sleepovers and she invited them both tonight, so I know she’ll be occupied while I sneak out.
Emerson doesn’t answer me back, but the party is about to start, so I hardly notice. Before I know it, I’m handing out skates to her friends and coordinating the hokey pokey on the floor. The rink gets busy on Saturdays, and the perks of being family friends with the owner is we basically get to make the whole place Sophie’s party.