The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) (8 page)

With a final thrust of his finger and a kiss to my pussy, I combusted all over his face as an unexpected burst of hot liquid gushed from some alien place I never knew I had.

While I lay there bewildered and trembling from my earth-shattering orgasm, Owen climbed off the table and took off the tie. Blinking my eyes several times to adjust to the light, I met his sapphire eyes, which twinkled with wicked victory. He stroked my hair just as he did when we started. Somehow, it felt like hours had passed though I knew it was likely no more than several minutes. How this divine man could alter time, my body, and my mind! Just like a drug. So wasted and dazed, I managed a little “hi.”

A dazzling smile curled on his lips as he tenderly brushed my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Oh, Olive, you are something. Do you know how delicious you tasted, you little squirter?”

Silently, I shook my head.

“Taste,” he said, putting the finger he’d rubbed my clit with to my mouth. I parted my lips and clamped my mouth around the tip. I’d never tasted myself before and was surprised by my own delectable combination of salty and sweet that mixed with the flavor of his finger on my tongue. He withdrew his digit and licked it himself.

“It’s so good, huh?”

A little shell-shocked, I simply nodded.

“My princess, I could eat you all day, but unfortunately work awaits us.”

I’d all but forgotten I now worked for this god of a man. He helped me sit up, and when I was in an upright position, I pivoted my body, swinging my legs over the side of the table. An awareness that I was sitting here stark naked hit me as another cold blast from the air vent swept over me. Goosebumps popped along my arms as I began to shiver. I hugged myself to keep warm.

A combination of compassion and concern filled Owen’s eyes. So intense it seared through my chill.

“Sweetheart, you’re cold.”

I nodded, hugging myself tighter.

Without saying a word, he slipped off his jacket and gently folded it over my shoulders. It was very, very big on me, but it felt so good to be blanketed in both its warmth and his scent. I wrapped it snugly around me as he retrieved my clothes. My heart swelled with love. It was the kindest, sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. Tears brimmed in my eyes.

“Owen…”

He looked up at me.

“Thank you.”

I
spent the rest of the afternoon in my office, trying to catch up on business. I made one solid decision—in light of our new sexy marketing strategy, I wasn’t going to shut down our New Haven outpost yet. New Haven was a gritty college city filled with Yalies and blue-collar workers, and somehow my gut told me our new creative direction would have them flocking to the local Donut King morning, noon, and night for a dose of our aphrodisiac offerings. There was one thing I could trust and that one thing was my gut.

But after making that decision, my mind wandered. All I could think about was my beautiful Olive. I hadn’t seen her for a few hours. Thinking I could get some work done and it would be beneficial, I’d arranged with HR to give her a new employee orientation to familiarize her with the company and then take her on a tour of our facilities. In retrospect, I should have done that myself and thought about how much fun it would have been to take her through my favorite part—our donut manufacturing plant—an amusement park of sorts where thousands of yeast-based balls of dough embarked on a rollercoaster-like ride until they were shaped like rings and either glazed, sprinkled, or filled. I glanced at the time on my computer screen. 4:45 pm. She was probably there right now watching my favorite part of the process—the donuts coming off the conveyor belt and dropping into the giant fryer where they went for a lazy river swim in a pool of oil.

As I stared blankly at my computer, I thought about surprising her. She was under my skin and in my bloodstream. I couldn’t get her out of my mind or out of my heart.
Olive, Olive, Olive.
Her beautiful body conjured in my head. Every curve and every contour. What she probably thought were imperfections were what made her the ideal woman. A rare confection I couldn’t get enough of. There was so much I wanted to show her. The stars over Mulholland…my house…my parents’ little donut shop that started it all…and so much more. Excluding my mother, who’d treated her only son royally, no woman had ever affected me this much. Olive had a magnetic pull on me that was greater than gravity. I had found my solar force. My world.

I reflected on the story she’d shared about how much our donuts had meant to her during her youth. The moving story had made my eyes water. I was a man in tight control of my emotions, who never let down my guard. Yet, twice today she had almost reduced me to tears. Me, the invincible Donut King.

Based on her story, I tried to calculate how old she was. We began our school outreach program ten years ago when I was twenty-five. She said she’d just started middle school. I did some quick mental calculations. Shit. That made her about twenty-one—more or less, fifteen years my junior. She was practically a child, but she was the woman who fucked like no other and whom I loved with all my heart, body, and soul. At the memory of her sprawled naked on my conference room table, my cock flexed beneath my desk. Maybe I should jerk off. Think about her beautiful hands around my shaft, stroking me up and down and saying sweet filthy things.

As I reached for my zipper, an unwelcomed familiar voice cut my delicious fantasy short.

“Owen, we need to talk.”

Jerking my hand off my crotch, I looked up. It was Clint and something about her was different. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her blouse was unbuttoned, revealing her bony chest. In her hand was a file.

“What’s up?” I asked, regretful that I hadn’t kept my door locked.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” she replied, approaching my desk. “I have a big problem with your new ‘assistant.’” She put air quotes around the last word.

“And what might that be?” I asked, the conversation already making me feel uncomfortable.

“She’s all wrong for you and this company. She’s pure uneducated trailer trash.”

My blood curdled. “No, she’s not. She’s an angel.”

She scoffed at me. “She’s totally not capable of being your personal assistant.”

My blood pressure was rising. “What makes you say that?”

“I read her respondent application. She has nothing more than a high school education. And the only job she’s ever held is being a waitress at some rinky-dink diner that went out of business.”

I had the highest respect for waitresses. They worked hard and were eager to please. My own mother had been a waitress at a diner and that’s how she met my father.

“She’s after your money, Owen. I can detect a shrew the same way a bloodhound can sniff out a wild boar. She’s ready to serve you her slothenly body on a silver platter. She’s so not for you. You need someone who is your match. Someone who is smart, aggressive, ruthless, ambitious, and fit. Someone like m—”

I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. “No, Clint. I think you’re wrong.” I was referring to what she said about Olive, but my remark could also apply to my personal feelings about her. Or should I say my lack of feelings; I had no romantic interest in Clint whatsoever. She was so far from being my type. Totally wrong. An uptight, entitled, self-righteous skinny bitch, who seemed to have a pickle up her butt.

“That’ll be all,” I said dismissively.

“No, Owen. Let me show you what I mean.”

A fiendish smirk streaked across her face. Before I could say another word, she rounded my desk and shoved my chair back against my credenza, which thankfully stopped me from slamming into the wall. With the force she’d used, I’d likely have gotten a concussion. I had no idea she was so strong. On my next harsh breath, she was straddling my lap.

“Get off of me,” I barked.

Ignoring my plea, she huffed. “Owen, you need a woman who can grab a man by his balls. Who’s not afraid to take control.” She fisted my collar, drawing me closer to her. “You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

I did. My Olive.

I had enough. What the hell had gotten into her? As I was about to bounce her off my lap, she yanked off my tie and ripped opened the buttons of my expensive dress shirt. What the hell was she doing? Before I could ask, she smacked her lips on mine and gave me a rabid kiss that was more like a savage bite—especially since she growled as she gnawed my lips. I thought about shoving her off me, but my rage was so great I feared I’d hurt her with my brutal strength and get hit with a harassment rap. With this in my mind, I turned my head and pressed my lips tight, trying to resist her.

Then it got worse. She dug her nails into my exposed flesh, so deeply I’m sure she drew blood, and rocked her taut body all over my cock. If she thought she was getting me hard, she was wrong. All she was doing was giving me a rash. My poor aching cock. On the next blink of my eyes, she began to pull down my fly.

“I’m going to give you some real pussy.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Clint?” I cried out as I captured her wrist.

“Showing you what you’ve missed.” Determined to free her hand, she went back to gnawing me. I couldn’t stand the way she tasted or kissed me. Everything felt so wrong. So very wrong.

“E-excuse me, Mr. King—”

The shocked sweet little voice drifted into my ears. My heart skipped a beat. It was my Olive, standing at the doorway with her jaw dropped to the floor and her hand cupped to her mouth. With adrenaline flowing through my veins, I pushed Clint off my lap, sending her to the floor on her bony ass.

“What the hell?” she hissed.

Her words went in one ear and out the other. I jumped up from my chair as Olive fled my office. Being a quarterback in college had its lifelong benefits. Not only was I physically strong, but I was also a super-fast runner. I ran after Olive as if I were going the whole hundred yards to score a touchdown. Though she was a surprisingly fast runner, I caught up with her in no time. Cinching her by her waist, I stopped her in her tracks and pinned her against a wall. Gripping her shoulders, I pressed my hips against her soft flesh, holding her captive.

“Let go of me,” she cried out at the top of her lungs.

“Olive, please,” I said softly as she turned her head away. “Look at me.”

“How could you?” she blurted, angry tears exploding from her eyes.

Fuck. She was crying again, her tears melting me. I wasn’t sure whether I should brush them away, kiss them away, or just let them fall. I ended up opting for the latter though my lips craved to be touching her in the worst possible way. To my relief, she turned her head toward me slowly and met my gaze. Opportunity struck.

“Listen, my princess. It’s not what it seemed to be.”

Her glistening eyes held me with uncertainty as I continued with guarded optimism.

“She barged into my office and attacked me.”

“Why didn’t you resist her?” Her softly voiced question gave me confidence to elaborate. At least, she was listening, keeping her heart open.

I answered honestly. “I swear I didn’t know what hit me until it was too late. She’s some kind of crazy nymphomaniac.”

“Why should I believe you? She’s attractive, svelte, and likely well educated.”

“This is why.” On impulse, I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her madly until she succumbed and moaned into my mouth.

“There’s only you, my princess.”

“Oh! Owen!”

“Please believe me, my sweetheart. The minute I set my eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. Mallory is just an employee. She means nothing to me except for how much she can grow my company and add to our bottom line.”

Her tears subsided. Thank God, she believed me.

“Have you ever thought of firing her?”

I pondered her question. The answer was yes. In hindsight, I should have a long time ago when Donut King began its descent. But it was virtually impossible with her father being a major investor. And now, being a publicly held company and at our lowest stock price in decades, firing my head of marketing would cause Wall Street jitters that could result in a massive stock sell off and lead us straight into bankruptcy. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

“I can’t,” I told Olive, explaining the circumstances. She understood, but she still felt insecure and distrustful.

“That woman is dangerous, Owen. I can sense it. She’s conniving and competitive and won’t stop until she’s gotten what she wants.” She paused. “And she’s definitely out to get me. It’s so obvious she doesn’t like me.”

I processed her words. Goddamn Clint. I had no problem keeping her away from me, but keeping her away from my beloved Olive was another story. I had to protect her from that vicious bitch.

“She’s jealous of you,” I consoled her.

Olive giggled, that adorable dimpled smile lighting up her face. That and the sweetness of her laughter were turning me on. I could feel my cock expanding and if employees weren’t passing by, I’d take her right against the wall. What was it about wall banging her that drove me nuts?

“No one’s ever been jealous of me.”