Chapter 14
1631 Words
“Where were your clothes, anyway? Weren’t you cold?” I asked as we stepped into the elevator.
I was bundled head‑to‑toe, but he stood beside me in nothing but board shorts and a towel slung over one shoulder.
What. A. Tease.
“I’m the hottest man on earth,” he purred, winking.
Right—no wonder I was sweating like hell.
Ever since we had left the pool, I had felt his eyes soaking me in. Suspicious? Oh, please, no.
The elevator dinged. Two women stepped in. Their gazes glued themselves to Johnny, and they giggled when he flashed a smile.
“There’s a party on the rooftop—everyone’s invited,” the blonde chirped, while the brunette blatantly simped over my half‑naked boss. I shrank into the corner.
“Sounds fun,” he said.
The doors slid open on my floor, and I slipped out like a breeze, bee‑lining for my room. I didn’t even check whether Johnny followed.
The jerk had oceans of time for women; he would forget a plain Jane like me in a heartbeat.
Man‑whore.
I scoffed and shoved my door open—only to be propelled inside by two big hands clamping my waist.
I yelped.
“This room smells like you,” Johnny murmured, kicking the door shut and hugging me from behind. “Peaches,” he whispered against my ear, burying his face in my neck.
Static shot through every nerve.
“You smell just like 'her', Cassy babe.”
I twisted free, grabbed the vase on the table, and pointed it at him. “Back off, okay? I’m not that woman. Maybe we wear the same perfume, but don’t make me her.”
He tilted his head and smirked. “Cute.”
“Your card’s over there. Stay put while I get it—move and I’ll bash your skull with this. Clear?”
He squinted. “Are you really gonna do it?”
“Y‑yes!” Great— I just had to stutter.
Johnny chuckled, flicked the vase aside, and it smashed, causing me to let out a scream but as he yanked me close, he claimed my mouth, muffling my sound.
My towel hit the floor.
I clung to his arm, drowning in pleasure while he devoured me like dessert. One hand trailed from my hair to my waist; when I gasped, his tongue slipped in.
Mint, booze, and pure sin nibbling my lip, exploring my mouth.
He started guiding us somewhere; I tripped on my slippers and wobbled. Johnny steadied me, then lifted me onto a cupboard.
“Wait—Johnny, wait…” I panted, wide‑eyed. Too overwhelmed. “This isn’t right.”
I wasn’t anything like the women he beds. I'm not the lady masquerade. I'm just me... Cassidy North—his secretary. Not his. Not one of his girls.
“What’s not right?” he asked softly, tipping my chin up. “We both feel this, Cassy. We both want it.” His voice worked like a spell—and it was working.
“I’m not a whore.”
“Of course not.” He slipped off my glasses; his addictive stare was crystal‑clear up close. “You’re 'my' Cassidy.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“It’s supposed to turn you on.” He licked his lips.
His hand glided up my thigh; our noses brushed.
“You’re drunk,” I protested, pushing at his shoulders. “You’re just confused. I'm not the one you need. I’m ugly—go find Mrs. Walker or those elevator girls—”
A quick kiss cut me off. “I’m stone‑cold sober, not hunting random p***y to f**k. We've been side by side like forever. I’ve been patient—little kisses only? That's unfair.”
“Is getting f****d by you a requirement?”
He grinned, swaying the topic off. “You’ve got secrets, Cassy babe. Remember I said I’d figure them out?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you mean—”
“I do.” He nibbled my lower lip; a moan escaped my lips. “You want me like I want you.”
His kiss stole the rest of my protest. I answered his kiss without holding back. f**k the act, f**k the money, f**k me. I need him now.
Yes, Johnny—I wanted him. I had been starving since the first taste.
He yanked my pajamas and panties off in one go and tossed them aside. His mouth trailed from lips to neck; buttons flew as he ripped my top, revealing my bra.
Panic rushed through me. The tattoo!
I clutched the shirt. “I’d like to keep it on.”
An amused brow lifted. “Since you asked nicely…” He unhooked my bra; I shrugged it off, shirt still on.
In a blink of an eye he was naked—arousal aimed at me like a loaded gun: red, angry, rock‑hard.
“Touch me,” he ordered, guiding my hand to his erection.
I wrapped my fingers around his length. He hissed, crushed his mouth to mine, and groaned while I stroked him slowly.
I lost it when he cupped my wet mound, circling and kneading.
My grip tightened, feeding the hunger already raging between us.
“Ahh…” I moaned as his thumb thrust inside me and four fingers worked my slit. “Johnny…”
“Yes, that’s my name,” he whispered, voice rough with need. “You’re damn soaking for me.”
He bit the skin on my neck—hard enough to leave a mark—slipped his thumb free, swatted my hand away, hauled me to the cabinet’s edge, and aimed his hard rod on my entrance.
Our gazes locked, both of us drowning in heat, with him firmly in control.
“Ready?” he asked—a rare flash of courtesy.
“Put it in,” I breathed. A smug little smile ghosted across his lips.
Slowly he filled me, and I drifted into the clouds.
Unlike the night I’d worn the masquerade mask, he was gentler—agonizingly slow but impossibly good.
He's holding himself back. But why?
I screamed when the climax hit the second time. He drove deep, right on the spot, my legs shaking.
Johnny groaned as my nails dug into his back.
The cabinet kept slamming the wall; the guest in the next room could think whatever they liked—I lostmy my care.
“Is it good?” he asked, as if my screams weren’t proof enough that he was a s*x monster.
“Is that even a question?” I retorted, making him grin in satisfaction.
He caught my lips while his hand squeezed my covered breast. “Damn handful,” he growled, then lifted me off the cabinet and laid us on the bed without slipping out.
Kneeling between my thighs, he stared as if I were a priceless exhibit.
His lips parted, still chasing breath.
“What—realize you’re f*****g the wrong woman?” I asked, half‑terrified he’d agree.
He crawled up to hover over me, one arm braced, the other brushing my face; his fingers lingered on my tingling lips.
My eyes fluttered shut as he traced their shape.
“How dare you call yourself ugly when you’re this breathtaking?” He propped himself higher for a better look. “Why hide that beautiful face?”
I couldn’t answer; he couldn’t wait. He began to thrust again.
Slow withdrawal, hard slam—the rhythm blew my mind. Driving me crazy.
Sheets been pulled, pillows have fallen on the floor, sweat rolled while I fought for my breath.
“Look at me…” he demanded, wanting to watch the pleasure he's causing me.
I tried but failed; my eyes kept rolling back each time he hit deep.
Johnny wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing lightly. “I said look at me,” he repeated, punishing me with rougher, deeper strokes.
My raw throat burned from endless screams; pleasure kept slapping me awake just to drown me again when another climax crashed.
Dawn bled through the curtains when Johnny finally shuddered and collapsed on top of me.
His ragged breaths fanned my neck; his weight felt perfect, his hands still clamped on my hips.
“No one’s ever made me come this hard,” he rasped, groggy and spent.
“You just… ran out of options,” I teased, combing sweaty hair off his forehead. “You missed the rooftop party.”
Instead of answering, he kissed my neck and nipped it, pulling another moan from me.
Great. So much for vows of chastity—I'd given up on it. Twice now.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “f**k…” he muttered, settling in.
I tried moving my legs; they throbbed, shaky and prickly—but totally worth it.
Felt like every ounce of negativity had drained from my body, mind, and soul. All thanks to Johnny.
The mattress dipped; he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
He’s leaving. What did I expect—cuddles?
I rolled my eyes, drowsiness dragging me under—until Johnny re‑emerged with a towel and a basin.
“Sleep, Cassy babe. I’ll clean your sore p***y,” he murmured, easing my legs apart. “Might even taste you again.” He chuckled.
“f**k you, Johnny…” I mumbled, being caught by darkness. Eyes rolled close.
Whatever's going to happen tomorrow is a tomorrow's problem.
One thing's for sure, I have to hold on tight. I might get drilled once more... but bleeding.
- Writer
