The secrets between us

The New assistant

"Yes. That made the office so much better,” I reminded my brother, leaning back in my chair as the faint hum of the copier and the aroma of roasted coffee filled the space. Michael chuckled, his blue eyes sparking with the same mischief that had carried us through more than one reckless decision.

“I think Sophia Williams got out just in time. People were starting to pay attention. How would we avoid that with another one?” His tone was thoughtful, though the corner of his lips curved into the smirk I knew too well.

“We got carried away last time,” I admitted, lifting the steaming mug to my lips. The dark bitterness coated my tongue, steadying my thoughts. “We could tone it down, keep the fun part somewhere else. Maybe have another place off site for the real after-hours relief?”

Michael’s hand slid through his hair, his grin widening. “I did like having the stress relief. And it was good being home more, particularly in your case. You were even awake in the office the past few weeks.” He teased, a sharp glint in his eyes.

I laughed, rolling my shoulders. “Well, I guess we can try again. Same process, same idea. See what happens.”

By the end of the week, Michael had already run an ad, carefully worded but loaded with double meaning, just enough to draw the kind of woman who would understand. We owned this company; nobody could question the choices we made, least of all in the realm of assistants. We framed it as a replacement for Sophia Williams, though the truth carried far heavier layers.

Within a week, the interviews began.

The office seemed alive again, buzzing with whispers as we prepared to meet potential assistants. Mom had come back home, which gave us more freedom, though she remained suspiciously attentive whenever we arrived late. Ten women were lined up in total, each one attractive in her own right. But there was one who stood out, one who carried not just beauty, but presence.

Her name was Joy James.

She sat across from us in a fitted pink pencil skirt that hugged her curves like it had been stitched onto her skin. Her blouse clung softly to her chest, a deliberate but tasteful choice, and her green eyes held a sharp intelligence that could cut through any pretense. She looked between us, brow arched.

“How does this work,” she asked, her tone calm yet edged with curiosity, “when we also need to get actual shipping business done here?”

The bluntness caught me for a second. Michael, always smoother in these moments, leaned forward with his hands folded, his voice like silk.

“There might be nights required,” he said, his gaze steady on her. “But of course, the business comes first. We balance both. That’s the nature of the role.”

Her lips parted slightly, considering. I leaned forward then, letting my voice drop into something warmer, coaxing.

“This will be enjoyable for all of us, Miss James. I assure you we wouldn’t ask for anything you didn’t want. But an open mind…” I paused, letting my eyes lock with hers, “is a gift in life.”

Her pink tongue slipped across her bottom lip before she smiled. “I’ll take the job.”

Michael grinned, his expression triumphant.

She started the following Monday.

That morning, Michael and I were already in the office when she walked in. Her entrance wasn’t quiet, it was deliberate. A fitted pink dress clung to every curve of her body as her heels clicked against the hardwood floor. The door shut behind her with a soft click, and she turned the lock before walking toward us.

Her lips curved into a sultry smile. “I was an escort for a short time in college. I keep that off my résumé, but I assume you won’t mind.”

Michael and I exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing in seconds. My c**k stirred just at the confidence in her voice, the sharp edge of sin in her admission.

“Damn,” I muttered, eyes locked on the sway of her hips as she stopped in front of the desk.

Michael arched an eyebrow, but there was no hesitation in his smile.

Joy didn’t waste time. She knelt between us with a sinful ease, her manicured nails grazing the inside of my thigh as she freed me from my trousers. Her lips wrapped around me, hot and wet, sliding down in a smooth motion that made my head drop back against the chair. Across from me, Michael groaned as she turned her attention to him next, her mouth working skillfully.

The morning blurred into gasps, moans, and the wet sounds of her mouth gliding along our c***s. By the time she finally rose to her feet, wiping the corner of her red-stained lips with her thumb, both of us were wrecked.

“I assume that won’t affect my training schedule,” she teased, slipping into a seat at the desk.

We showed her the software that day, her green eyes flicking between us as she typed, body leaning forward so her cleavage teased at every angle. She absorbed the details quickly, a natural quick learner. Yet behind the focus, there was a gleam in her gaze, a playful spark that promised she was already planning how far she could push us.

We explained the hotel arrangement, and she only smiled. “That will work. I like routine.”

From the very beginning, Joy was different from Sophia. Where Sophia had carried a quiet sweetness, Joy radiated bold confidence. She was rich, smart, and unapologetically indulgent in her pleasures. She signed the nondisclosure agreements without flinching, her pen gliding smoothly across the page.

If she broke the rules, she knew the lawsuit would follow. But I doubted Joy feared such consequences.

By the end of her first week, she was already in our bed.

Her body was softer than Sophia’s, curves filling my hands as her heavy breasts bounced under my thrusts. Her moans filled the hotel room, wild and hungry, echoing off the walls as she urged us deeper, harder. She f****d like she had something to prove and maybe she did.

Even outside of the bedroom, Joy carried herself differently. She made friends around the office, drawing in whispers and sideways glances that only seemed to fuel her. I knew people gossiped, but Joy didn’t care. She wore her confidence like a second skin, red lips curving into sly smiles as if daring anyone to say something aloud.

And she was clever. Her work was sharp, her suggestions for the company insightful. Within six months, our numbers were climbing. We threw a luncheon in celebration, thanking the staff for their work. Joy sat at the table with a few of the girls, her laughter carrying lightly across the room as she nibbled on her salad.

But only hours before, she’d been bent over my desk, naked and screaming into my hand as I pounded into her from behind.

Her p***y was hot and slick, gripping me like a vice as I buried myself inside her. The slap of skin filled the office, my hand tangled in her blonde hair as I pulled her head back. “You’re mine,” I growled, thrusting harder, faster.

Her answering cry was ragged, desperate. She shook beneath me, body arching, and I spilled into her raw, groaning as I filled her. Her scream was muffled under my palm, her back arching as she came around me.

Now, sitting at the table across the conference room, she looked every bit the polished assistant again her hair perfect, her lipstick bold and flawless, her vintage dress hugging her curves. She met my eyes with a flicker of heat before winking, turning back to the conversation with a laugh that made the others lean in closer.

My pulse quickened at the sight.

Joy James was nothing like Sophia Williams. Joy was dangerous.

And I had no doubt that we were only at the beginning.