PA Expose - a full length erotic novel with submission themes (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) (14 page)

‘Mmm,’ she moaned. ‘Whatever you want. I’ll do it.’ Her breath came fast and shallow.

‘That is why you are here, is it not?’

‘Yes, Jake.’

He gave her another rewarding stroke.

‘Mmm. Oooh.’

Jake was out of words. It was far too late for that now. He plunged his pulsing appendage straight into her vagina and it contracted instantly around him. As he thrust, Cally gave a high-pitched, animal wail that rose in intensity as her orgasm forced her vaginal walls to grip him, limiting his final throes to restricted jerks.

‘Oh Cally,’ he groaned. ‘Cally. Oh God, Cally.’ His come gushed through her channel, bursting to escape the intensely packed space between them, like a lava flow of molten heat. He felt so tight he could snap.

Cally shuddered beneath him as she came, thrashing upward to meet his last wringing thrusts, resentful of letting a single sensation escape her.

Jake collapsed upon her, drawing her tightly to him and they both lay utterly still, their saturated organs melded as they contracted spasmodically, drawing them both to a nerve-tingling, fragile subsidence.

As rational thought slowly returned to Jake’s mind, he recalled himself calling out her name in the midst of his ejaculation. Jesus, what was he playing at? She was here to be trained, for God’s sake. For some other man to use and enjoy. Not him.

Completely unprofessional. He rolled off her in self-disgust. ‘Get dressed,’ he said, and threw his T-shirt across to her. He wouldn’t even look at her. Couldn’t. This wasn’t how he should be acting, feeling, around one of his client’s women.

She was Mathers’ to fuck and pleasure himself with. The sooner he accepted that fact, the better. He clawed a hand through his hair and stalked off to come to his senses under the shower. He had a phone call to make, to initiate the arrangements for tomorrow. He wouldn’t even think about it. Just do it. Get the job done. Finished. Get Cally Hammond the hell out of his sorry life. For her own good.

Tomorrow would be the hardest day. For him and for her. Especially now.

Cally took a lot longer to recover than Jake seemed to. She lay there for ages, coming down from the madness of the most frantic sexual experience she had ever participated in. The fucking that fell somewhere between the violence of violation and the sharing of a wild lovers’ passion and yet was no part of either. Her heart pounded and her chest heaved as if she couldn’t possibly ever get enough breath inside her to survive. Only some of that feeling was the result of the frantic physical exertions in which she had partaken.

She had wanted Jake Stone. Really wanted him. Not just sex, but him. Just for that moment of mad abandon. And he had called to her, lost in orgasmic turmoil, as if she was the only woman on Earth who could rescue him from drowning. Called out her name, over and over. So she’d thought he wanted her too. It rang in her ears like a false benediction. But afterwards? Just as soon as he had finished, he had walked off and not looked back once.

No. Even worse than that. He had made her feel like a used whore. One he couldn’t get out of his house, out of his sight, quickly enough.

The realisation made tears well in her eyes. She was angry with herself, dashing away the moisture that spilled down her face. Why should she care? She was only in this for a job. And not his damn job. She wouldn’t work for Jake Stone if he promised her a diamond mine. And she didn’t want him either. It was the sex that had turned her crazy. She wanted to crucify him, to throw him to the sharks. Except she wasn’t much further forward in doing that.

Cally sat up and wiped her eyes savagely. He wasn’t worth her tears. She was going to get this damned assignment finished and get the hell out of Jake Stone’s life as quickly as she could. And that would be his loss. She would focus her mind on her future. Her journalistic future. Nothing to do with him, except for exposing him for the bastard he was. That would be her first coup. This would be his last.

Chapter Ten

D
ETERMINED TO STOP
herself thinking about what Jake had just done, Cally needed to occupy her mind. She went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge for food. Cook something. Make food. Eat. Be a journalist. Get Jake Stone to talk.

The faster she got what she wanted, the faster she could leave and never have to see him again. Cally bit down on her lower lip, hard, to prevent herself thinking about what she had wanted and what she had just got. And the difference between them.

There was a packet of fresh, chilled linguine. Cream, garlic, parsley, a little chilli, and a fresh bottle of olive oil. She wasn’t about to retrieve the one she’d left in the spare room. She crushed all thoughts of that one, and what she’d used it for, out of her head. Everything here she needed but crab meat. She could make no-crab linguine. She thought about what would have happened if there had been crab. Would he have picked the meat out of hers? Forbidden her a bite, even after she had made it. Would crab even count? She didn’t care. She would throw the whole damn bowl of it over his head if he tried to stop her eating what she made.

So much for being his submissive sex slave. Right now she was so angry, so upset, she didn’t care what he thought. What he would do to her next.

She could hear him taking a shower. Washing all trace of her off his skin.

By the time he returned, she had thrown together a passable pasta dish. She put it in the middle of the table, between two plates, two chairs, yet even with the table between them it still felt as if he would be sitting too close to her.

Jake stood in the doorway to the kitchen for a moment. She studiously ignored him as she continued to lay out cutlery. God, this felt so fucked up. Sexual shenanigans with your pseudo-boss followed by a civilised, intimate little dinner for two. Maybe a candle would complete the charade? Mockery came easily to her mind.

Cally looked up as Jake returned carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. She nearly groaned at the farcical nature of the gesture, but perhaps getting a little bit drunk was the best thing that could happen right now. He opened a drawer, rummaged for an old-fashioned corkscrew, and popped the cork with muscular ease.

Chianti? With no-crab linguine? The man really was an ape. Abusing him, if only in her mind, made her feel better, somehow. It was probably the only wine he had in the apartment, she conceded. He filled the glasses with the red fluid and held one out to her. She couldn’t bring herself to take it from his hand so he placed it on the table and sat down. He was dressed in jeans and a clean, white shirt, not buttoned all the way to the top. God, he looked sexy. His hair was towelled dry but still damp. She liked the way he looked and hated herself for it. It only made the situation she was in that bit more awful.

As she sipped her wine, Jake downed his glass completely and poured another. He couldn’t even look at her. God, it made her want to cry all over again.

She forked some of the creamy pasta onto her plate and tossed the utensils back into the bowl. She was damned if she was going to serve him. She’d let him fuck her all ways to Wednesday, maybe, but dish up his food? Not likely. She knew it sounded petty and pathetic, even in her own head.

The silence in the room was deadly. Jake swivelled the servers round to his side of the bowl and heaped a pile of food onto his plate. She was glad to see the devastation hadn’t ruined his appetite. Her thoughts remained sour.

‘It’s good,’ he mumbled. He talked with his mouth full. Primate was right.

If he thought she was going to thank him for the compliment to her domestic skills and culinary prowess, he was mistaken. She threw down her fork and threw back the rest of her glass of wine. Jake looked up at her, for the first time.

She reached for the bottle but he grabbed it first. She relinquished her hold reluctantly and was a little surprised to see him refill her glass before his own. The devil was rising in her again. That, and the desire for oblivion. She downed the second glass in one, also. It nearly choked her.

He really watched her that time. ‘You sleep in my room tonight,’ he began and when her eyes flicked to his, he quickly continued, ‘I’ll take the other one.’

Too many unfortunaterecent memories for him to share a bed with her, she supposed. She got up and grabbed the bottle. He let her. There was only another generous glassful left in it anyway. As she walked out of the kitchen, he called after her.

‘Get some sleep. I’ll be waking you early tomorrow. Business as usual.’

Damn him. He just had to add that last bit, didn’t he? She refused to react.

Standing under the hot shower, Cally couldn’t seem to get hot enough or clean enough to scrub away how much she hated him, wanted him, wanted to run away from this whole damn mess. And she hadn’t even spoken to him; so much for her plan to make Jake Stone spill the beans. Journalist of the year.

Cally beat the pillow into a bloodless pulp, sank back and stared at the ceiling. Even the bed still smelled of him. Of them. Together. No wonder he gave it up, to her. Not so much chivalry as avoidance. Gorilla. Orang-utan. Chimpanzee.

Cally woke when Jake threw something onto the bottom of the bed. It was morning and he was already dressed for the office in suit and tie.
Business as usual
, Cally remembered and almost groaned.

‘Get dressed. You’ve got 30 minutes. There’s juice in the kitchen. Have some before we leave.’ He punched out a series of orders.

Callyalmost saluted him before he turned on his heel and left. She wasn’t ready to let go of her hurt or her anger yet. She was giving herself one more day to witness his practices, then she was writing that news report, regardless of the lack of evidence. It wouldn’t be hearsay. She was a first-hand witness and victim of this man. When she said it like that, she felt better. Mud sticks in newspaper journalism, and if she threw enough in his direction, Jake Stone and his rotten little Enterprises would go down the pan together.

She threw back the bedcovers and swung her feet to the floor. Jake had left the long, silky wrap that she had ordered, as her choice of clothing, for her to get to the bathroom in. The clothes he meant her to wear must be in the other bedroom, like the day before.

She drew the shirt she had slept in over her head, put on the wrap, and headed for the bathroom for a quick wake-up shower and make-up. If it took her longer than 30 minutes, so what? He could go on without her. The thought made her smile for the first time.

She came out of the bathroom in the wrap again, looking for her day clothes.

‘We’re leaving,’ Jake announced. ‘Time’s up.’

‘I don’t know where you left the clothes you want me to wear.’

‘You’re wearing them.’

Cally frowned. She looked down at the wrap she was wearing as if, somehow, it had miraculously transformed itself into a business suit. The light dawned. ‘You’re not seriously expecting me to wear a wrap to the office?’

‘Wrong answer.’ Jake grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her back into the bedroom. He sat heavily on the corner of the double bed and pulled her across his knee.

The robe was yanked up above her waist and her bare bottom was exposed to him.

Right back to day one again, Cally thought, as he brought the first stroke of his hand down on her clean, warm flesh. It stung and she yelped.

‘If I say we’re leaving, your reply is “yes, sir”.’

Cally knew the routine intimately. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Repeat it,’ Jake ordered, landing another open-palmed slap.

‘Yes, sir.’

His hand struck a third time, warming her buttocks to a glow. ‘And again.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He rubbed his palm in a gentle caress over the firm, pink posterior. He pulled her wrap down again and hauled her to her knees before him. ‘I had hoped we did not have to go through all this again.’

‘No, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t understand.’ Cally could feel her cheeks glow above, as well as below. She did not think anything could have been more humiliating than being spanked bare-arsed by a stranger, but she was wrong. It was a hundred times worse, being punished by the man who had made love to you the night before.

Jake helped her to her feet. He looked strange. Not like the first time he had spanked her in his office. He didn’t look happy about this spanking, somehow. He had hardly struck her. Certainly not like the savage beating he’d given her backside when she’d hardly stepped in his office, the first time. Perhaps she didn’t excite him any more?

Cally told herself she was being stupid. He hadn’t made love to her; he had taken her for his own sexual pleasure. And he was no more disquieted by this spanking than the first one he had given her. He did both because he wanted to. Because it gave him a sick, perverted thrill. The same thrill he must have got by letting her think she had dominated him last night. Otherwise, why do it at all? She pulled her arms out of his hands.

‘I detect a trace of dominance remaining in you, Cally. Make no mistake. You are here to do as you are told. It will be much less painful for you, if you do not fight this.’

His cold words disturbed her. One more day, she reminded herself, and then she would be done. That thought disturbed her even more.

‘Now, I cannot let your little show of temper go unpunished.’ Jake took the silky belt that tied the robe together around her waist and pulled the knot undone as he talked. ‘I will arrange your robe, the way it is to be worn for the rest of the day, to remind you that you are fully exposed to my will. That nothing about you will be withheld from me.’ Now his sentiments sounded really sincere. It set her teeth on edge.

He pulled the hemmed edges of the wrap apart until they draped the outside of her engorged breasts like a theatre curtain, revealing the spectacle between them. The garment hung straight down to the floor, allowing her stomach and thighs and clean little pussy fur to be on show as well. ‘Nothing is to be hidden from me. Or from my visitors.’

‘Visitors?’ The words escaped Cally’s lips before she could think of the consequences. His sudden look silenced her. Her heart pounded. She remembered the last experience of visitors to his office and his reaction to her afterwards. Then, they had only seen and enjoyed her breasts. And now he wanted her to be fully exposed to them. What was he intending?

In spite of her nerves, Cally was already excited. Jake understood, so well, how to treat a submissive woman. And she could no longer deny it. She liked exploring the submissive side of her female sexuality.

Jake had retied the sash tightly, to cross between her naked breasts, separating them and thrusting them upward and forward. Then he ran it behind to hold the garment like a bridal train running down her back to the floor. There was little of her body that could not be seen readily and none that could not be accessed with little effort at all, by him or any man he wished to have access to it.

Her mouth was dry and her nipples peaked, signalling her strong arousal. An intimate arousal that would be teased and tuned for many hours to come, by him and other men. Oh God, she hoped she was ready for this. She knew she didn’t have much choice, as he wasn’t about to let her run.

Jake rose and walked to the door. ‘Come.’ She followed him, dread and desire warring in her head.

The cool air of the basement garage played wicked havoc with her skin, pushing her chilled exhilaration to a restless yearning to be used as a sexual plaything. Now she began to realise why he drove his PAs from building to building without having to step outside. And why the windows of his car were darkly tinted. He had done this with other women before. Many times.

Callythought of all the photographs of the naked, blindfolded women she had found in his apartment. She wondered when he would take her photograph. When he would add her image to his book of trophies. Presumably before he completely tired of her and moved on to the more exciting thrill of having a new woman to pleasure him. She did not want to look too closely at the feelings that thought engendered in her and what they suggested about him. About her.

She shook her mind clear. She would just absorb every dreadfully thrilling moment of this last day so that when she went back to her normal life she could replay it in her mind whenever she needed. She could shut her eyes and imagine every boyfriend was as harsh and exciting and satisfyingly controlling to her dark nature as Jake Stone was right now.

Jake directed her up the stairs before him. She carried herself like a queen. A queen who was to be sacrificed on the altar of men’s lust. He felt that lust, pounding through his tight muscles as he followed her.

He looked at the graceful curve of her hips, the beautiful swell of her buttocks. Buttocks he had already spanked so thrillingly this morning. It gave him an erection the size of the Eiffel Tower. How he loved to feel her draped helplessly across his thighs, taking every punishment he meted out with his hand as it heated her golden flesh.

He couldn’t help his physical reaction to her, but his heart hadn’t truly been in it. He’d wanted to caress her curves, as much as he’d wanted the thrill of giving her erotic pain. He’d never felt like this before when he trained a woman and he didn’t like it. He didn’t know how to handle it.

He had no idea how he was going to get through this day. He knew what was waiting for both of them but he was scared his feelings would make him truly savage, even as he watched Cally obey his commands. Jake just knew he had to face it and deal with it. Deal with her, the way he was being paid to.

‘Go into my office, Cally, and kneel down in the centre of the room. Wait there.’

Cally did as he asked. She could feel her pulse pounding in her head, the warm blood rushing through her veins. She felt agitated and keyed up and had to fight a billion years of evolution that pushed her to take flight in order to obediently kneel, silent and alone, waiting for her fate.

She was embarrassed to realise how quickly her pussy had started to throb and swell in preparation for sexual pleasure. But she was here to please him, not herself. The words just kept beating through her mind, like a mantra.