A Very Personal Assistant (6 page)

Her hands flew to his back, his buttocks, embracing, exploring
and savoring all she’d previously been denied. The notion of skin like silk was
a cliché, especially for a man. It sounded like something that should only be a
quality of an unattainably perfect romantic hero…but it was true in Patrick’s
case, deliciously and wonderfully true.

Just running her hands over him was a pleasure in itself, and
between her legs, her pussy clenched, wet and needy. This was the final treat
she’d been longing for—a naked, unhidden Patrick, free of the mask of his
corporate, sartorial elegance.

He kept kissing her, imposing himself on her, his hands sliding
beneath her skirt and running up and down her thighs, flicking over her stocking
tops. “I can’t lose you, either,” he growled, before plunging in with hungry
kisses again and again.

Miranda was floating, out of it, and only into him. But as her
eyes flicked open, and across the little hallway, she realized that the door was
still wide open, offering anyone on the landing a prime view of Patrick’s fine
arse.

But she didn’t care, and it seemed he didn’t, either. Even when
he bunched up her skirt so he could touch her, there wasn’t a fiber of her that
was bothered by the possibility of exposure. His hand slipped into her panties
and all was right in the world.

“I won’t take it back,” she hissed as he touched her, finding
her clitoris with his supernatural touch. “I love you. I can’t help it. Deal
with it.”

“I will,” he replied, swirling in her slippery sex, working
her. “And I’ll deal with you…but first I’ve got to fuck you.” He kissed her,
quick, rough, deep. “Now. Immediately. I can’t wait.” He rubbed her clit in
tight little circles. “Got a condom in that bag?” He nodded in the direction of
her shoulder-bag, lying on the carpet runner.

She nodded furiously, so close to coming that she literally
couldn’t speak. All she could do was watch as Patrick swooped down, small,
detailed muscles working his back as he rummaged efficiently in the bag and
pulled out a familiar foil package. It was hard to stay upright. His body was so
amazing that just looking at it made her shake all over, but she laughed out
loud as he back-heeled the door shut, then advanced on her, ripping open the
foil and rolling the contraceptive onto his mighty erection as he
approached.

“Brace yourself, woman,” he growled, grabbing her again.
“You’ll need to help me…knickers off, then guide me into you and hang on for
dear life.”

She obeyed, loving it. He was in charge here, just as he’d
always been during their trips to the cottage. And he was hard as iron just as
he’d been there, too.

But still, this was tricky. How were they going to achieve
this. It was all very well in movies doing the up-against-the-wall
knee-trembler, but she’d always believed it was impossible in real life, with
actual people. No previous lover of hers had even attempted it.

“We’ll fall,” she protested, even as he flexed his strong legs
and positioned the head of his cock against her entrance, lifting one of her
thighs to get at her better.

“No, we won’t, woman. Don’t fuss,” he said gruffly, working
with his hips, already in a little way. “It’s a trust exercise. We’ll be fine.
Believe me. Now help.”

So she did, hooking her thigh around his narrow hips, and then
bracing against the wall with one hand while she reached down and tangled
fingers with his, aiding his entry into her. Luckily she was slippery, running
with arousal, soft and yielding.

With a hard shove, his buttocks tensing, he thrust home and
hard.

“Lock your thighs around me,” he commanded. “Right around….
want to be deeper.”

It felt so precarious, yet also wonderful, this trust exercise.
She’d never felt so filled before, but she wanted to be more filled. Only
Patrick could do this. Only he could reach places inside her that no man ever
had. And on many levels that were nothing to do with his cock.

“I’ll never let you fall, love,” he gasped, looking directly
into her eyes, his own intent, dark as night, focused on sex, yet on her, too.
“Believe me, I’ll never let you down.”

She hooked around him, completely suspended from him, her sex
jammed up against his, her arms locked around his neck, holding him as if she’d
never let him go.

I never will let you go! Never! I don’t
care what happens!
she cried silently to him and he began to thrust
and thrust with his hips, one hand under her buttocks to guide her, the other
flat and steady against the wall. Every time he rocked against her, the force,
the angle, the weight of his athletic body, and the whole of his heart and soul
seemed to knock against her clitoris, shooting jolts of pleasure up her spine
and around her body.

Holding him with her thighs and arms, she jerked against him
reciprocally, attempting to give as much as she was getting, and pleasure him.
He muttered, “Yes, love! Yes!” and that told her she was achieving her
objective.

The fucking, the closeness, it was all too much for her. Even
though she was clothed and he was nude, she felt as if every part of her was
pressed to every part of him. Her suit, her blouse, her bra, everything was
insubstantial but her flesh against his flesh. And it was that connection, the
one that was so magical and hard to define, that brought her off as much as the
action of his cock and the rhythmic tugging action on her clit.

“Oh, hell! Oh, God! Patrick!” she howled as orgasm claimed her
completely and her pussy rippled and gripped and gripped and gripped him.

“Oh, baby,” he muttered vaguely, holding her to him. “I love
you…I love you…” His broad chest heaved against her. “But if I climax here, I
will
drop you…. You feel too good!”

Giddy with pleasure, Miranda thought,
What? How?

“Hold on, love. Hold on really, really tight.” Both of his
hands slid under her bottom, gripping her firmly.

Hardly able to believe what he was up to, she still trusted
him, and hiccupped with laughter when he swung her away from the wall, and began
to carry her, still on the prow of his erection, down the little hallway and
into a room at the end. Every so gently, he used her to nudge the door wider,
then strode into what was revealed to be his bedroom, heading for the bed.

Miranda didn’t notice much about the room, except that it was
decorated in blues, and appeared incredibly tidy, but what she did see was that
spread right beneath where he clearly intended to deposit her, was a freshly
pressed suit laid out, along with shirt, underwear and socks.

“Where were you going?” she asked, the question purely
automatic and female. Despite the fact that his cock was inside her, she felt
fear and uncertainty for the first time since she’d walked into the flat. What
if he had a girlfriend? Someone he had a real relationship with, not just a
weird out-of-office sex thing?

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…it was all for you,” he said as he set
her down, inclining over her. He slipped out of her then, and let rip a lurid
curse, but a moment later, he’d rearranged her body and his and he thrust inside
her again, this time with the stable surface of the bed beneath her back.

“Good” was all Miranda could gasp, as he began to plough her in
even deeper strokes than before.

Despite the fact that they were fucking in comfort now, she
felt giddy, whirling, almost hysterical. The sensations doubled, tripled, went
off the scale, enhanced and illuminated by subconscious realizations and hopes
and dreams. He cared, he loved her, and something even greater and more
wonderful than just this sublime physical experience lay ahead.

But she was going to have to live through this, and have an
orgasm again first. Or several orgasms…

* * *

Afterward, naked, and following several passionate
joinings, they dozed. Or at least, Patrick did.

Typical man.

But Miranda smiled fondly at his beautiful fallen angel
profile, and his tousled blond curls. He was adorable, and she did adore him and
love him. And how dumb was she not to comprehend this a lot, lot sooner.

I should never have given you a job. I
should just have asked you for a date.

It would have been much, much simpler from a work and
relationship perspective. Who knew where they’d be by now? Far further along
their path together…maybe?

As if he’d sensed her troubled thoughts, he stirred and turned
toward her, his face alight with that sunny smile she loved so much.

“Well, fancy you being here,” he said, stroking her face. “I’ve
fantasized about you being here, and wanked so often while imagining you here,
that I can’t believe that it’s really actually happened.”

The idea of him touching himself and pleasuring himself made
Miranda’s skin tingle, and impossibly, given the amount of climaxes she’d
enjoyed, her pussy rippled with fresh desire. But there were issues to be
settled, plans to me made, and even in this quiet, special, love-filled room,
the businesswoman, the organizer in her, rallied.

“Please tell me you’re going to withdraw your notice now.” It
was going to be awkward working together and maintaining a relationship, but if
they were discreet and sensible there was no reason why they couldn’t manage
it.

“No, I’m not,” he said, his eyes steady. “I can’t come back to
the company.”

A great, empty hole seemed to yawn inside her, the prospect of
not seeing him every day, not talking with him, laughing with him. It wasn’t
even the sex. It was him, with her, that she’d missed. He was the one constant
in her life, the daily necessity, and now she could admit how little she’d
looked forward to weekends since he’d become her assistant.

“I can’t come back because relationships between staff members
are frowned upon. I’d rather see you all the rest of the time, and just get
another job.” His thumb moved slowly over her skin, brushing her lower lip, that
was a little bruised from all the kissing they’d done. “I’ve been offered a
share in a recruitment agency, helping busy execs like you a chance to find
‘treasures’ like me. I think I’ll enjoy the work.”

See you the rest of the time….

“What do you mean, see me the rest of the time?”

She knew, actually, and her heart was pounding. This was it,
oh, God, the thing she’d never thought she’d find.

“I think you know, my love.” He waggled his sandy-gold eyebrows
at her. “I’m not usually wrong about anticipating what you want…at least I think
I’m not wrong.” A tiny shadow of doubt flashed across his face, and as if to
banish it, he leaned over and kissed her. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No, not wrong at all,” she answered when he freed her mouth.
She was panting for lack of breath, and because of the sweet shock, the enormity
of what they were dancing around. “But…um…we’ve never even dated or
anything.”

He gave her an arch look, almost smug, utterly delicious.
“We’ve spent a large part of each working day together for the last six
months…and in my book that’s plenty of time to find out if we’re simpatico,
wouldn’t you say?” Reaching out, he ran his hand over her naked flank. “And
we’re certainly compatible in bed…or out of it.” He winked. “We’re perfectly
suited.”

“Yes, we are,” she whispered, leaning into the caress of his
hand, willing it to go further, then purring with bliss when it slid to her
breast and cupped it. Part of her wanted to start asking practical questions
about time scales and flats and engagement rings, but most of her was happy to
wallow in happiness and freshly stirring pleasure.

They would work everything out, as they always did. They’d had
enough practice organizing their life together during working hours, and at the
cottage, so it’d be easy enough to do the same in all the other hours.

Still, she had to ask one question, though.

“So, if we’re not at the office, and you don’t work for me
anymore…who’s going to be the boss in this relationship?”

Patrick gave her long, long look, an intense fiery expression
that made her belly surge like boiling honey and her pussy clench with heavy,
delicious longing.

“Oh, you’re pretty good at negotiations, my love,” he said
softly, “and I’m good at knowing exactly what you want and when you want it.” He
threw a long, muscular thigh across her, and reacquainted her with his seemingly
unflagging and unstoppable erection. “So I think we’ll work out something
between us, don’t you?”

Miranda nodded, surging against him, rubbing her softness
against his hardness as her soul recognized it’s perfect mate and match.

Patrick’s arms slid right around her, pulling her even closer,
as he whispered in her ear, “And if you get too uppity, we’ve always got the
cottage.”

Images flooded through her mind, delicious images, sensations
and memories. Along with sweet ideas and notions and plans for future trips to
their wicked little hideaway.

“Maybe we could go there for our honeymoon?” she suggested,
reaching down to touch the cock of the man she loved.

“Indeed, my love. I was just going to suggest the very same
thing.”

His happy laugh turned to groan of pleasure as she stroked
him.

* * * * *

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.

Published in Great Britain 2012.
MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR

© Portia Da Costa 2012

ISBN 978-1-4089-8194-8