Continental Breakfast

Continental Breakfast

Ella Dominguez © 2013

Special thanks and love to my husband and daughter for their patience with my reading and writing addiction.

Thanks to
my loyal readers for their continued support and kind words.

Loads and loads of tha
nks to my beta readers who helped decipher my thoughts.

Thanks to
http://alchemybookcover.blogspot.com/
for the wonderful cover art.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

My name is Bella and I am
the personal assistant to Mr. Pettifor. I am also his plaything and muse. Over the last two years, I have come to accept this role and cherish it. I take pride in my
work
and it shows. Mr. Pettifor is generous and for that, I am grateful. He lavishes me with gifts quite frequently and though they are not expected or wanted, they are a nice perk of the job. Working for Mr. Pettifor, I have been afforded a lifestyle that I never thought possible and I’ve seen and done things that other women can only dream about and traveled to places that others have only read about. I guess you could say I’m Mr. Pettifor’s go-to-gal. I attend all work functions with him and I am on his arm for various galas when needed, but our relationship otherwise is strictly from 9 to 5.

This is the extent of my relationship with Mr. Pettifor and I’m completely okay with that. I’ve never needed or wanted
more
. I am monogamous to him even though he has never asked that of me because we never speak of such things. In fact, we don’t speak of much other than work. No, there are no deep and meaningful conversations, no late-night confessions, no meeting of the parents. There is simply mind-blowing and deeply satisfying sex. We share a symbiotic relationship that goes without saying. His needs are met and so are mine.

My
daily routine consists of attending and assisting Mr. Pettifor with meetings upon endless meetings regarding mergers and acquisitions, and all of the humdrum activities that are associated with Mr. Pettifor’s line of work. I keep a very close watch over his schedule and time, as well as seeing to his personal needs, in all matters. But the best parts of our routine are the mornings and they are what I treasure the most. When Mr. Pettifor comes over the intercom to tell he wants his continental breakfast, I know it’s not eggs and a bagel that he’s requesting. 

I
eagerly make my way into his office and lock the door behind me. I present myself in front of him as he peels my panties down and lifts me onto his desk.  This is when our fun and intimate interlude begins.

“
Lay back, Ms. Darcy. I’m very hungry this morning,” he tells me, his voice hushed and needy.

I spread myself out on
his desk, open my legs and offer myself up to him.

This morning he is in a particularly aggressive sort of mo
od as he dives into my wet folds as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks, even though he had his continental breakfast just two days ago. His skilled tongue flicks at my hot clit while his fingers probe my depths.

“
Give it to me, Ms. Darcy. I’m famished this morning,” he grunts as he pulls and tugs at my throbbing pussy.

“Yes, Mr.
Pettifor,” I squeak out.

His hot mouth covers me just as I cum for him, spraying into his greedy mouth.

“Yes, that’s it, beautiful, give it to me.”

His
words spoken so lustfully make my inner walls undulate with desire.

“More,” he insists and I’m happy to oblige.

He finishes off by filling me to maximum capacity with his perfectly sized dick and pounding into me slowly and methodically. He cums after several long and pleasurable minutes, and then peels his condom off, tying the end and tossing it in the trash while I put myself back together.

“You’ll need to stop and purchase more Trojans this afternoon. Put that on your to-do-list,”
he says without emotion.

“Yes, Mr.
Pettifor.”

This morning has turned
out to be a particularly good one. Three orgasms and a pussy stuffing that will leave me sore for at least 24 hours. I do cherish days like this.

I’ve never
been the jealous type nor has Mr. Pettifor given me reason to be jealous, that is, until the leggy blonde with an exotic name started showing up. At first, she would stop by once a month and I paid no mind to her infrequent visits. But lately, her visits are closer together. This week, she has presented herself three times.

When I heard her
impassioned orgasmic cries coming from his office, I knew at that moment, it was time for me to move on. Not wanting to make any rash decisions, I decide to wait at least a few days to give myself time to think more clearly and fight my way through the cloud of jealousy muddling my judgment before handing in my letter of resignation. Also, I don’t want to appear needy or desperate, or give the illusion of jealousy, even if that’s the case.

It is only two
days following Leggy Blonde’s orgasmic visit and the insatiable Mr. Pettifor is calling for his continental breakfast. Being a bit put off, I hesitate. It’s the first time I’ve ever given a second thought to not obeying his command. When I don’t present myself immediately, an irritated Mr. Pettifor buzzes me.

Walking into his office, I am
greeted with a raised eyebrow and a stern look.

“
Why did you make me wait?”

“
My apologies, Mr. Pettifor.”

‘I’m hungry,”
he states impatiently. “Did you purchase more Trojans?” he asks as I approach his desk.

“Yes, Sir, t
hey’re in your top drawer.” I know he knows this because I’m positive he used one with Leggy Blonde, but I’ll play along.

He finds one and hands it to me. While I unwrap the slimy wet skin, he pulls his dick out of his pants and I place it over his hardened cock, rolling it d
own gently all while avoiding eye contact.

Why am I
so hurt by his sexual tryst? We’ve never agreed to monogamy. In fact, I’m sure he’s been with other women. He is a man of great wealth;
of course
he’s been with other women. I guess I’m so hurt because he had Leggy Blonde here at work, at
our place
. Within these four walls of his office, Mr. Pettifor belongs to me.

Mr.
Pettifor lifts my face to meet his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, Mr. Pettifor,” I say unconvincingly.

I
lie down on his desk and open myself up to him just like any other time, though this time it feels different. He proceeds to worship my pussy, but I’m just not into it. I have to concentrate in order to cum and practically force myself into submission when he pushes his rigid shaft into me. He must sense my lack of enthusiasm because when he finishes, he castigates me.

“Next time you’re not in the mood, I’d appreciate if you just said so. I don’t particularly enjoy
it when you’re not actively participating.”

His tone is clipped and his eyes are burning a hole right through me.

“Yes, Mr. Pettifor.”

The rest of the afternoon is
uneventful. I have started writing my resignation and resume, and already have a few job prospects I’m looking into. I’m expected to attend a work dinner this evening. Normally I look forward to the extra time I’m able to spend with Mr. Pettifor and the way he touches me in public, his hand on my lower back, his fingers skimming over my arm as he talks about foreign policies. I enjoy getting all dolled up for him and the hungry look in his eyes when he brings me back to his office for the rare late-night sexcapade. However, tonight, I will decline his invitation.

I buzz him and request a meeting. When I enter his office, his eyes are on the computer as he types maniacally and speaks into his Bluetooth headset. He’s a force to be reckoned with and it’s a beautiful
thing to see Mr. Pettifor in CEO mode. He ends the phone call and addresses me.

“What is it, Ms. Darcy?”

“I won’t be attending the dinner with you this evening.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course you are,” he simply states and goes right back to work. “I have something picked out for you to wear and a stunning new necklace with teardrop earrings. You’ll find them over there,” he says, pointing towards his clothes closet.

I do love when he dresses me up, but
no,
I need to start distancing myself from him and the sooner the better.

“Thank you, Mr.
Pettifor, but I am not attending the dinner this evening. I will have the clothes sent back to Sachs immediately,” I tell him.

I walk towards the door but I’m immediately stopped.

“Ms. Darcy, your attendance this evening is
not
a request. I expect you to be on my arm.”

His voice is commanding and fierce and when I turn to face him, his look matches his tone.
His eyes scan me up and down as if he’s confused and aggravated by my sudden resistance. He acts as though a woman has ever told him
no
before. Perhaps they haven’t.

“I’ll call Avenue Temps and have someone sent over to accompany you this evening, Mr.
Pettifor,” I state more resolutely.

Again, I turn to leave, but Mr.
Pettifor’s voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“Ms. Darcy…”

I’m unable to bring myself to look into his deep hunter green eyes, so I remain motionless and facing the door.

“I’m not interested in a temp accompanying me. It’s you that I want.”

His voice is cool, but it heats my blood.
He wants me.
Until Leggy Blonde shows up, that is.

I cave to his
command, “Yes, Mr. Pettifor.”

The rest of the d
ay goes by quickly. My letter of resignation is complete and the plan is to hand it in tomorrow, first thing in the morning and before continental breakfast
.
Better yet,
after
breakfast. I might as well enjoy the man of the hour one last time.

Mr.
Pettifor buzzes me and I enter his office. He has a gorgeous strapless, deep blue evening gown laid out for me with stockings and a dazzling pair of Louboutin studded heels. His taste in clothing is impeccable.

“Let me dress you, Ms. Darcy,” he states, motioning me towards him.

I stand before him and he takes complete charge over me, undressing me neither slowly nor hurriedly. He kneels in front of me when I’m down to my panties and he removes them sensually, sliding them down my legs and kissing my mound as I step out of them. He slides a finger into me and licks it off when he pulls it out.

“I want a little
snack before we go.”

I can’t deny my
boss when he says such naughty things to me. He pushes my legs apart and buries his face in the seam of my pussy. His expert tongue finds its way and my body pulses with lust. I’ve never touched his hair before. He has always forbidden me to touch him in such an intimate way, but tonight, knowing that our time together is limited, I fist my hands in his black and white frosted mane. It’s soft;
oh, so soft
. He quickly pulls away from me and stands, glaring down at me.

“You’re pushing my limits today, Ms. Darcy,” he growls tetchily
and runs his hand through his hair.