A Sorta Fairytale (4 page)

“Fuck, Stella!” you roar as I rock my hips back and forth against you. My eyes drift closed. I feel another orgasm coming on. While one hand is still against the dark red brick of the building, I suck the others fingers into my mouth, slowly trailing them down to my sensitive area. “Fuck,” you mutter.

I guess you can see what I’m doing, but I don’t care. I need my release. That’s all that matters.
My head drops back, and I bawl when my wet fingers start to massage. “Oh my god,” I yell louder as I keep rhythm with the swaying back and forth against your cock.

You groan louder. Goose bumps form all over my body. I shake, and my legs begin to tremble. You hoist an arm around me to keep me from falling to the ground. “Fuck this pussy.” You move in and out of me slowly. When you’re fully inside of me you dig deep.

“O-o-oh fuck,” I stutter. My insides clench. I claw my fingers against the brick while I continue the swirl against my skin.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble as you release your grasp on me. Roughly, you dig your fingers into my hips and bend me over completely, my hands on the dirty ground.

I splay my fingers out and my legs apart. I need you deep. I need it hard. I need it now. Gripping tightly to my hips, you rock your hips back and forth. I bite my lip. “Fuck,” I growl.

You keep me up. “Fuck, I need this pussy to come again. Can you do that, Stella?”

“Uh huh,” I gasp. I wipe my right hand on my skirt to get all of the dirt off before I rub myself again.

“Fuck,” you snarl as you pound into me. “Make that pussy come!”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My body starts to shake, and my eyes close. “Holy shit,” I yell as my insides spasm. You clutch me, continuing to pound into me, roaring. “F-f-f-fuck,” I stammer as my teeth chatter from my orgasm. My legs continue to tremble, but still you keep me up.

One, two, and three more times you pound into me hard, and then you pull out. “Fuck,” you groan as hot spurts of liquid seep out onto my ass and thighs. I smile. I love it when you come because of me. I giggle followed by a yelp when you smack my ass. Gripping it in your hand you groan. “Oh, fuck, I love this pussy.” You spin me around and push me up against the brick, my bare ass up against the wall. Your lips are on mine, your hands on my legs and hoisting me up. I wrap my legs around you as I fuck your mouth with mine. When our tongues touch, I whimper. You dig your coarse fingers further into my ass. I smile against your mouth. I like that you’re so rough with me. Tossing me. Grabbing at me. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter as you slowly put me down.

While you zip yourself up and straighten your shirt, I adjust my thong, pull my skirt down, and attempt to brush through my hair with my fingers. You dangle a cloth in front of me. I look at it and then to you. “What’s that for?” You nod toward my legs. “The come.”

I shrug and wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” I start to bend over to pick up my wristlet when you beat me to it. “Here you go,” you say as you hand it to me.

“Thanks,” I mutter. You stare at me. “What?”

“You’re not like most girls, Stella.”

“Well…thanks.” I smile up at you. “We fucked. That’s it. I don’t need the cuddling and spooning. You should know that by now, Thomas.”

“Oh, I do.”

Turning toward you, I ask, “But?”

“Nothing,” you say with a smirk. That smirk I love so much. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I continue to adjust my pencil skirt. “Good.” I smile to myself.

You grab my hand and pull me behind you to your Town Car. I smile. I like that you take my body. Take advantage of me. Do whatever you want. You open the door for me, and I look up at you. “Get in,” you order.

I hop into the car. You’re not far behind me, pushing your waist into me. I can already feel your hardness starting to form against my ass. “To the loft,” you say as you close the door. As the car starts, I drop a hand to your knee, slowly trailing my way up, not stopping. When we get to your loft, you don’t give me much time. You finger me in the elevator, you fuck me on the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the floor of the bedroom, and then, like always, I leave.

Chapter 6

Stella & Thomas

We have three rules. Rules which must be followed.

1. Never talk about the past or a possible future.

2. No sleeping over. No matter what.

3. Find another.

Chapter 7

2 years earlier

Stella & Thomas

“Stella?” Your voice rings through the intercom.

It sends a tingle right in between my legs, making me remember what happened yesterday. “Yes?” I squeak out. I don’t know which is worse. Before, when all I wanted to do was fuck you, or now, knowing exactly what you’re like. Your thick, long cock with cold metal going straight through it. How you slam into me. The way you fuck like a god. I practically salivate at my desk. I think I’ve become one of those girls who can’t get rid of the man so I can use him however I wish. My own personal toy. Sex slave. Come to think of it, I’m not sure who’s the sex slave in this relationship. I seriously think I would do anything for you. That is, if you asked.

“I’d like to see you in here. Right now.”

With pleasure.
I scan the room, frightened others might have caught on to us. I wonder if they heard us yesterday. My moans. Your grunts. I release the breath I’m holding. “Coming,” I hum. Casually, I walk to your office and knock.

You don’t bother looking up at me. “Come in,” you grunt.

I start to walk in when you look up. Eyes as black as night. Filled with sex. A look I saw yesterday. A look that makes me want to do naughty things. The kind where I bend over on your desk and wait for you to fuck me. Where we could get caught at any moment. That is what I want right now. My nipples tighten, and I gasp. A wetness pools in between my legs.

“Shut the door, Stella,” your voice rings in. “I want to talk to you.”

It makes me shiver. Shake. “Oh? What about?” I squeak out.

You chuckle. Finally, putting the papers down, you look at me with a wicked smirk on your face. “Oh, I wanted to talk to you about the opening statement to the case. Definitely not about the dirty fucking we did on my desk yesterday.” Raising a hand to the seat across from you, you command, “Please. Sit.”

I look to the chair, then back to you.

Your brows scrunch together. “Something wrong?”

“No,” I mutter as I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh, I know.” You finally stand, and that’s when I see your unzipped pants, the protruding hardness pointing directly at me.

Everything else washes away. The thought that this is probably wrong on so many levels. That I should just walk away because you are going to ruin me for life. The best kind of ruin, if there is one. After Thomas Braxton, I will never be the same again. All that’s left is pure sexual arousal. The want of your cock. The need of your touch. And before I can stop it from leaving my mouth, I moan.

“Do you see something you like, Stella?”

I don’t look up at you. I’m too stuck on looking at the hardness between your legs and the memories of what occurred between the two of us yesterday afternoon.

“Is there something more appealing you’d like to sit on?”

I look up and smile. “Yes.”

“I figured as much.” Turning around, you sit down on the chair and wave a finger toward me. “Come here,” you say, and I obey. When it comes to you being inside of me, I always will. I’m your slave. Your slut. Yours to do with whatever you wish.

“Mmm...” you growl when I spin around. “I love how you’re ready for me.”

Pulling my skirt up, I push my thong to the side, already feeling the dampness between my legs.

Gripping my waist, you start to pull me down on you, but I resist. For a second. “Sit on me, baby. Ride me. Make yourself come on my cock.”

I smirk and look back to you. “With pleasure.”

***

Adjusting my skirt, I hear you zip yourself in.

“Fuck that was amazing.”

I giggle. “You can say that again.”

“What do you say we do this more often?”

My heart jumps. I don’t like permanent. I like going with the flow, letting things happen naturally. I know you and I are nothing. I know you only like me because you’ve been fucking me. Nothing more.

“Stella?”

“Yes?” I stutter out.

Fixing the collar of your shirt, you situate your tie and sit down in the chair, studying me. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Not really,” I drag out. Your mouth starts to open when I cut in. “Look, we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. You don’t need to cuddle me, spoon me, or make sure I’m fine every two seconds. I like fucking you. That’s really all there is to it. I don’t need a long-term, or really any term.”

“Good, because I like fucking you too. No, actually, I don’t. I love fucking you. My cock craves your hole. I need it.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. No one’s ever spoken to me the way you have. The need for me. The need to be inside of me. Hearing it from anyone is exhilarating. Hearing it from Thomas Braxton sends me over the edge.

“Really.” You smile. “So I propose…”

“You’re already proposing?” I chuckle. “Damn, I must be good.”

Your head falls back, and a beautiful laugh fills the space. “Oh, Stella, I could honestly believe someone proposing to you solely based on that pussy. How tight, wet, amazing you feel.”

I gasp. I forget that you just fucked me raw. I forget that I’m a little sore. All I want now is you back inside of me.

“Craving my cock again?”

Mouth hanging open, I nod.

You smile wide. “Good. I was wondering how long it would take for you to want my cock again.”

“Oh, Mr. Full of Yourself! Do you want my pussy again?”

You stand up and lean against the desk, staring directly at me. I gulp. I don’t think I should’ve said that, but in the end I’m glad I did. This is the side of you I found so damn attractive. The badass. The one who yells at the defense during trials. It turns me on to no end. It probably turns every girl on. You look back and forth between my eyes. “I wanted your pussy the second I left it. I craved your pussy last night. Thought of that beautiful thing wrapped around my cock making it come. Thought about your plump ass and how it wiggled as I slammed into you. Thought of the taste of your perky tits when I sucked on them. So I did something. Or tried to. Something I haven’t done since I was in middle school. I was goddamn hard, Stella. I needed to jack off, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get off with this hand,” you say holding your hand up. “It was nothing. Nothing compared to what is between those beautiful legs of yours. So I waited. Ecstatic to come to work for the first time in years. And when I got here, I saw you walk in. Your beauty and sexy body. God, I almost came when I looked at your ass. And when I finally got you, I wanted to make you mine in every way possible. So…I propose we do this more often.
Much
more often. That is, if you want it.”

I look at you in confusion. I can’t believe you want me as much as I want you. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Holding a finger up you say, “Just a few simple rules I think we should come up with.”

Fully, I lean in. I’m intrigued. I thought I had you all figured out. Thomas Braxton. Top lawyer at the office. On the straight and narrow. Makes love. Not the man in front of me, the one I’ve been completely surprised with over the past twenty-four hours. The one who has a cock piercing. Who fucks like a porn star. Who surprises me and keeps me on my toes. “What kind of rules?”

Resting your elbows on the desk, you smile. “I’m glad I got your attention.”

“I’m intrigued,” I counter.

“Good. I hoped you would be.”

I lean back and cross my legs, trying to relieve the overwhelming sensation between them. “So?”

Chuckling, you lean back and rest in the chair. “You really aren’t like other girls.”

“Look. I wasn’t beaten as a kid, and I didn’t have a fucked up childhood. But I’m not going to tell you about my past. It’s none of your damn business. That’s a rule I want to start with. No talking about the past.” Raising a finger I say, “Or a potential future.”

“Hmph.” You relax back into your chair, really thinking about it. “Now I want to know what happened to you.”

“Nothing happened to me. I just don’t see the point in talking about a past when there’s no chance of a future.”

“Says who?’

“You,” I say. “You want rules. You want to fuck. I’m fine with it because I don’t need a relationship right now. It would just fuck things up for me. Half the time I have a problem watching over myself. I don’t need the extra issues added on.”

“Issues?” You laugh. “Damn, I like you.”

“Sorry, Thomas. If you don’t think you can live up to that rule, then there won’t be a future for us.”

“Us?”

“Fucking.”

You nod. “No sleepovers.”

I shrug. “That’s fine.”

“You’re not going to argue with that one?”

“I like my bed. It’s a real comfy one. The more room I get, the better. I happen to hog the bed, so if you did sleep over or I slept over at your house I’d probably squish you. Like I said before, Braxton, we aren’t in a relationship. We’ll be fucking. That’s all there is to it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I’m glad you understand that rule, because I’m not a sleepover kind of man.”

“Well good, because I’m not a sharing my feelings, cuddling up together, making love type of girl.”

“You certainly aren’t that.”

“Oh, yeah? What am I, then?”

“You are a sexy, interesting, intimidating woman who fucks my cock like no other, who doesn’t give a damn.”

“Well,” I say, shocked, “you certainly hit the nail right on the head with that one.”

“Okay. Another rule. I have functions and parties and social gatherings I will need you to attend.”

“Okay.”

You smirk. “That was easy.”

“Not like I really care, but what do we tell people?”

“What do you mean?”

I can’t believe I have to spell it out. “I mean people are obviously going to ask what the two of us are. We can’t say, ‘Oh, we’re fucking.’”

You laugh. “Why not?”

I shake my head. “Well, I think that would be unethical on your part.”

“I like you, Stella,” you say with a laugh in your voice while pointing at me. “All right, I will say you’re mine.”

“I’m not your goddamn property, Thomas.”

“No.” You laugh. “You aren’t. How about, we’re together?”

“Works for me. What about the office?”

“Yes, we will definitely fuck more in the office.” You snicker. “Um, I don’t give a damn about the office. Anyone who says anything about you will have to deal with me.”

“I’d just rather be civil in the office. Yes, we will fuck in the office, but I want to keep it a secret. I’m your personal assistant. Obviously, I have reasons to come in here. What happens when these doors close? Well, that’s totally up to the two of us.”

You point to me again and smile. “I’m going to love this relationship.” We sit staring at one another in silence. It creeps over us. It’s not nerves, but pure sexual tension. And then you clear your throat. “I have another rule.”

“Okay,” I stammer.

“I’m just not sure how you’re going to take it, Stella. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me, Thomas.”

“Oh?” Your voice is filled with surprise. “Why is that?”

“I have to care about you in order to get hurt.”

You nod and look away from me. “Fair enough.”

“So what’s the rule?”

Looking back to me, you stare for a few seconds. Probably contemplating if you should say it or not, but ultimately you do. “I want you to find another.”

I’m shocked, astonished you would say that. “Excuse me?”

Standing up from the chair, you walk over to me and lean against the desk, resting your hands on either side. “Is there a problem?”

“Why?”

“Simple. I don’t want you to get attached to me.”

“Thomas,” I say snidely, “I think we established that in Rule One. No talking about the past, and no discussing a potential future.”

You nod. “I understand, but I don’t want you to get attached to me.”

“Trust me. I won’t.”

“Ouch,” you joke, placing a hand to your chest. “I’m crushed. But seriously, Stella, I don’t want you to get attached. I don’t want you to fall in love with me and think of a future and a possibility of the two of us.”

Standing up, facing you directly, I say, “And like I said, Thomas Braxton, I’m not going to fall in love with you.”

You smile victoriously. “Then finding someone else to occupy your time when you aren’t with me shouldn’t be that difficult.”

And it’s almost like the air shifts, changes, collides. The fact that you want me to find another changes my feelings toward you. I don’t love you. Not yet, anyway. It doesn’t happen till later. Much later. “I’m still not understanding.”