What Money Can Buy (6 page)

"Lauren," he said, standing up. "I'm sorry I had to leave you in Italy the way I did, I was –"

I held up my p
alm. "No need to explain," I said, shaking my head. My voice cracked as I spoke. "Thank you. I don't know how t
o
thank you."

He looked puzzled. "Thank me for what?"

"My father. I can never repay you for what you did."

“You don’t need to,” he smiled. “And you never will.”

He walked around the desk
and
kissed my forehead. "It's nothing. No one should ever have to worry about something like that. And
I promise you won’t ever
have to worry again, Lauren."

"But it's so much money."

He stroked my cheek. "Not to me. I can afford it. And besides,
what’s the point of
money if you can't do anything good with it?"

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight, my body responding as I felt his hard muscles beneath my delicate fingers. He lifted my chin and looked at me. "Do you forgive me for the lie we had to engineer?"

I paused for a moment. What would be
the
purpose
of holding a grudge? He was t
o
o gorgeous to argue with anyway. He probably knew that, but I didn't care. "I'm not sure forgive is the correct word," I said. "So I'll just do this instead."

I kissed him,
the
softness of his lips and the graze of his stubble making me want him all over again. He gently began to push me away and, for a moment, I was confused. Then I saw that mischievous smile again, that twinkle in his eyes, and I knew he wanted more. "Take a few steps back, Lauren."

I did as he asked.

"Unbutton your blouse."

Once again, I felt myself complying. I felt my heart beat faster and my stomach begin to perform cartwheels,
knowing that
everything about th
is felt deliciously wrong. Yet
my fin
gers undid each button and soon
I was before him, my breasts exposed in only
my
sheer white lace bra.

"Do you want to walk the tightrope, Lauren? Or do you want to stay on ground level?"

Warm juices rushed between my legs. "I want the danger," I replied. "No safety nets."

"Good," he smiled. He stood against the corner of his desk, placing his hands in his pockets. "Unzip your skirt."

Again, I did as he commanded. I let it drop to the floor, and stepped out of it slowly. I
realized
for the first time
that
I was standing with not
only Jason but the entire city as my voyeur. The w
indows were
completely
exposed, and so was I. Instead of rushing to cover myself, of somehow coming to my senses and
realizing
how crazy this was, I instead found my nipples
h
arden
ing and
my panties becoming increasingly moist. Jason stepped to
one
side and beckoned me over. "Stand against the desk," he said. "Put your palms on it."

I did as I was told, complicit and subservient like a scared employee being intimidated by their boss. Except, as nervous as I was starting to become, I was far from intimidated. I wanted to see where this was going, and more importantly, how far I could go.

He moved in close behind me and pushed himself against my buttocks. He slid his hands up the sides of my smooth, toned thighs while whispering in my ear. "Bend down further, Lauren."

I lowered myself against the surface of the desk, the cold glass pressing against my stomach
and causing me to flinch
.

"Further."

I was virtually at 90 degrees now, his hands finding their way to my tight ass. "Do you always
do as you're told, Lauren?" h
e said, h
is erection beginning to press
against me through the fabric of his clothes.

I closed my eyes. "Yes, Jason."

He leaned over me and whispered again in my ear. "
Right now, i
n this room, it's Mr King. Understand?"

Another rush of warm juices filled my pussy. "Yes, Mr King."

"Spread your legs."

I stood, bent over and wobbling on my high heels, with my legs as
wide
as I could manage. Jason
gently
kicked them further
apart
, pushing the limits of how well I could balance in my stilettos. He ran a hand up my left thigh and formed a fist around the thin band of my panties. With his other hand, he ran his fingers along the gusset of
the
drenched
underwear
. I moaned out, my
folds
parted beneath the lace fabric.

"You're soaking wet, Miss Wade. And
yet
, you profess to be such a good girl. Are you a good girl, Miss Wade?"

I had no idea where this was leading, but I didn't care anymore. As far as I was concerned, he could do what the hell
he
wanted with me. "Yes, Mr King. I'm a good girl."

He c
ontinued to gently stroke at my drenched sex, concealed beneath my sopping wet
thong
. "You think you are," he said, huskily. "But good girls don't get this wet. Good girls don't wear such skimpy, revealing underwear. When you stood before me, I could see the hardness of your nipples and the glistening of your soaked pussy. You may think you're
a
good girl, Miss Wade, but I think you really want to be bad.
I think you want to be the
type of girl who has sex with her boss in a deserted Italian palace. The type of girl who strips off and bends over a desk in a room full of windows.
Am I correct?"

I moaned out. "Yes… I want to be bad. Make me a bad girl, Mr King."

"Very well. Ask and you will receive."

Without warning, he ripped off my panties.

I cried out as the wet lace was torn from my body. The snap of
the elastic stung my skin and
the cool of the air conditioning immediately collided with the warmth between my legs. My soaking folds were completely open, exposed by the width of my stance. Jason leaned over me. "I want you to taste how wet you are," he said. He put
the
torn panties in my mouth, making sure the gusset was against my tongue, and tied them behind my head. The sweetness of my nectar trickled over my taste buds and I felt myself becoming impossibly wet, desperate for him inside me. Instead, he ran his tongue up my drenched
pussy
, slowly taking my juices into his mouth. His exquisite torture was almost too much to bear, and when he darted his tongue at my clit, I felt myself begin to orgasm. He felt it too, and immediately stopped, clearly wanting to prolong my divine agony.

"Not yet," he barked. "You said you wanted to be a bad girl. Now you get your wish."

He rubbed a palm gently against my left buttock in a circular motion. Suddenly and violently, he spanked me – hard. I screamed out, partly from s
hock and partly from pain, but my cries were
muffled by the saturated lace gag in my mouth. He circled my buttock again, an attempt to somehow prepare me for what was to come, then sent another slap crashing down against it. I felt my legs shake in my high heels, and my knees seemed as if they would buckle. He moved on to the right buttock, slapping it with increasing levels of
force
each time.
The smack of skin against skin rang out in the expanse of his office suite.
All I could do, my face screwed up in agony, was scream out through my drenched panties.

Then, bizarrely, something happened. The pain, as excruciating as it was, became pleasurable. I craved it, wanted it, knowing my ass was getting increasingly red and sore.
Cries became moans, each subsequent slap causing
an orgasm to build and, before I had chance to stop myself, I felt my stomach muscles tighten. I moaned out, delicious ju
ices seeping into my mouth, as I
bit down on my tattered thong. As I felt my entire body brace itself for orgasm, Jason suddenly entered me. His hard, long erection travelled deep inside me from behind and I tightened around it involuntarily. He thrust back and forth inside me as I came, my warm juices pouring over him and sending me crashing down from the tightrope he talked about. No safety net. Just pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

Every ounce of strength I had was gone. The muscles in my legs, drained of energy, threatened to give way as I came back from the edge of such a violent orgasm. Jason, his hardness almost incomprehensible, slid out of me.
My nectar trickled down the insides of my thighs, the wetness between my legs now too much to contain.
He lifted me
up
and removed the
makeshift
gag, kissing gently at my neck. He wrapped his arms around me, taking my weight, knowing full well that my legs would give way at any moment.

"Come with me," he whispered softly. "Let me help you."

I turned to look at him. He was naked, his clothes scattered behind him. I had been in such unbelievable ecstasy earlier that
I hadn't even heard him remove
them. I collapsed against his chest, gasping at the intensity of my orgasm. I was still coming
back down to Earth
it seemed, and he would be the one to break my fall.

He scooped me up in his arms, and carried me over to a leather sofa in the
center
of the room. He laid me down slowly and slipped off my high heels. His tongue ran traces up my
stomach
before finding my hard nipples. He stroked the sides of my breasts tenderly with
considerate fingers
and flicked and sucked gently at the erect peaks. "Oh God," I gasped. "I'm so sensitive."

"Not God," he smiled. "Just me."

With a single movement
he slipped inside me, his perfect aim aided by my drenched folds. He kissed me as he moved, each thrust a little faster than the last. I slid my fingers down to my swollen clit and softly stroked at it. I
t
was unbearably sensitive, but I wanted to go further than I ever had before, to experience an orgasm so intense and unbelievable that I would be ruined forever. I felt him begin to twitch inside me and, with my free hand, I held on to his backside. His body moved
inside me
with the intensity and power of
a machine
, muscles rippling
like pistons
with each thrust. I made a futile attempt to push down on his rock
hard ass, as if to try and keep him inside
my walls
at all costs. There was no need – his sheer length and size had no chance of slipping out despite my wetness, and he pushed
his cock
deep against my cervix
as he began to pulsate.

"Lauren…"

I pulled my hand away as my sensitivity became too much to bear and I wrapped both arms and legs completely around him, enveloping him and making him one with me.

"I think I…"

I momentarily blacked out as my entire body sank into darkness, the muffled sounds of our moans all that was left of reality. I felt the warmth of his liquid
flowing
inside me, mixing with my own, as his voice suddenly came to me in the midst of our orgasms.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

When our bodies should have relaxed, they tightened. When we should have moved apart, we held each other closer. I looked at him and he looked at me, tears streaming down my face. I didn't know what to say.

"Oh my God…"

We kissed and smiled and smiled and kissed until the sun began to rise over New York City.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Jason and I grew stronger and closer together, our lovemaking impossibly intense and more and more
daring
. I lost count of the amount of times I headed into the office with red raw buttocks beneath my tight pencil skirt
, stinging despite the amount of soothing balm he had later applied
. As time went on, I
realized
that Jason would never be able to have a conventional relationship wi
th someone. He was everything wome
n wanted, and some things we didn't want
as well
.

But for me, he was everything I could ever hope and dream of.

Nothing was ever completely straightforward with Jason and that simply made life more interesting. The day after our spanking and sex session in his office, he offered me a full-time job as his assistant. He revealed that Amanda, his previous PA, had already handed her notice in before we went to Italy. She wanted to spend more time with her children and grandchildren in Washington and would be moving that month. Jason let her leave immediately with full pay. At the heart of it all, Jason was an unbelievably generous and giving man. He wasn't the absolute bastard that everybody had made
him out
to be – far from it. But, at the same time, I could understand how he would intimidate the most gentle of shrinking violets.