Chapter Two: My Boss, Her Wife
988 Words
“Sleeping with my boss was risky. But her wife? That was chaos I couldn’t resist.”
It started with ambition.
A promotion I was hungry for.
A raise I desperately needed.
And a boss who scared the hell out of me.
Miranda Cross was the kind of woman who could slice you open with a sentence. Tall, poised, always in black, she ran the creative firm like a queen with a blade. No one dared cross her. Everyone wanted her approval.
I wanted more than that.
And that’s what got me in trouble.
The night she invited me to dinner, I thought it was strictly professional. She had just named me lead on the upcoming luxury brand campaign. I assumed the invite was to discuss vision, brand synergy typical bullshit.
But the minute she opened the door, I realized how wrong I was.
Her eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate. She was barefoot. No blazer. No makeup. Her long red hair was down in waves, and her robe yes, robe was loosely belted, showing the pale curve of her collarbone and the edge of a black bra.
“I didn’t know it was casual,” I said, flustered, tugging at my work blouse.
She smiled like a predator. “It’s not.”
Dinner was served in her penthouse kitchen intimate, candlelit, and unsettling. There was no assistant. No husband. Just her and then her wife.
Sienna.
Younger. Softer. Beautiful in a haunting, artsy kind of way. Ink-black hair in a bun, paint stains on her fingers, and a laugh that sounded like sin wrapped in sugar.
She came out of nowhere, wrapped her arms around Miranda’s waist, and kissed her neck right in front of me.
“I didn’t know we had company,” she purred, looking me over.
“She’s one of mine,” Miranda said, eyes never leaving mine. “We’re celebrating her rise.”
Sienna smirked. “Hmm. She looks like she works hard for it.”
I swallowed. Something between fear and heat twisted low in my stomach.
They played me like a game.
Flirted with me during dinner.
Sienna licking wine from her fingers with slow, suggestive motions.
Miranda letting her hand brush my thigh beneath the table.
Their words were polite. Their gazes were anything but.
By dessert, I could barely breathe.
“You’re quiet,” Sienna said, spooning crème brûlée into her mouth. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Miranda asked, tilting her glass. “A spreadsheet?”
I nodded. “Honestly, yes.”
Sienna grinned. “Poor thing.”
After dinner, they brought me into the living room.
The lights were dim. The couch was velvet. There was jazz playing softly in the background.
“I like confident women,” Miranda said, standing behind me. “But I like obedient ones even more.”
Her hands touched my shoulders.
I froze.
She leaned close to my ear. “Do you want to make me happy?”
I nodded.
“Say it.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Then kneel.”
I dropped to my knees.
My hands shook. My mouth was dry. My core aching.
Sienna sat in front of me on the couch, spreading her legs with no shame, no hesitation. No panties under her dress.
Miranda stood behind me, fingers in my hair, pulling just enough to make me whimper.
“Lick her,” she said. “Show me you deserve that raise.”
Sienna was already wet. Warm and wanting.
I leaned in, tongue hesitating for only a second before I tasted her.
She gasped softly, one hand tangling in my hair as I buried my mouth between her thighs. She tasted sweet and sharp, moaning with each flick of my tongue.
Miranda’s hand tightened in my hair.
“Deeper,” she commanded. “She likes it slow. Let her grind into you.”
I obeyed.
I flicked, swirled, sucked gently like I was born for it. Sienna rocked against my face, gasping, moaning my name.
Then I felt Miranda kneel behind me.
Her hands lifted my skirt.
Fingers parted my ass.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “If you stop licking her, I stop touching you.”
Her fingers slid into me from behind.
Two at once. No warning.
I cried out against Sienna’s p***y but kept licking, kept moaning into her folds as Miranda fingered me hard and deep.
I was dripping.
Soaking wet.
Pinned between two women who knew exactly what they were doing.
Sienna came first loud and wild, riding my face, thighs squeezing around my ears as she gushed into my mouth.
Miranda didn’t stop.
She pushed me forward until I was face-down on the couch, dress bunched up around my waist. I felt her tongue now sliding between my cheeks, teasing my soaked slit.
“Please,” I begged, shaking.
She slapped my ass. “Not yet.”
She moved in front of me and pulled off her robe. Her bra dropped to the floor, revealing full, perfect breasts with dark, pierced n*****s.
“Touch me,” she said.
I kissed her. Licked her breasts, sucked her n*****s while her wife kissed my back and slipped a finger inside me.
We became a blur of limbs and lips and hunger.
At some point, I was riding Miranda’s thigh, grinding hard as Sienna straddled my face again.
I didn’t know whose moan was whose anymore.
When I came, it felt endless.
Like breaking.
Like flying.
Like being f****d by power and pleasure at once.
They let me collapse between them, breathless, trembling.
Miranda stroked my hair.
“You’re promoted,” she said casually.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
Then she leaned in and whispered against my neck.
“But next time,” she said, “you’ll beg to be used.”
- Writer
