Excerpt
It was a Mr Hudson, but not the one I expected. This was his good-looking bastard of a son, Nicholas.
His eyes opened in surprise, then he smiled and said, “Hi, Bruiser!”
I hated that name! It was a painful reminder of the first time we’d met. I had still been wearing the stupid dental braces my mother had insisted I needed, though I’d thought my teeth were fine. People tell me I have a killer smile now, so I guess the pain and embarrassment at the time were worth it. But that hadn’t been the most embarrassing thing of meeting him that day. I had bumped into my friend, Gemma, in gym class the day before. And, I mean bumped into, literally. She was shorter then so her hard head had connected with my left eye. I hadn’t wanted to attend the stupid company picnic with an eye the colour of a rainbow, but my father had insisted, saying that I was too young to be left at home on my own. And, added to all that, I had woken up with my first ever teenage spot that same bloody morning. I had looked and felt like hell. I felt even worse when I met Mr North’s eldest son, who just graduated from Cambridge and was off to work in the States on a four-year contract, the next week. He’d been dressed casually in a polo shirt and black jeans, but he’d looked so worldly and sophisticated, I’d felt like a ten-year-old and I’d wished he had bloody gone to America a week early.
He looked suave and even better looking now, sitting behind his father’s desk and wearing a light grey shirt which perfectly matched his eyes. I stared at him stupidly for several seconds, realizing in horror that except for the top which occasionally rode up and showed the undersides of my breasts and the short skirt my mother often threatened to burn or give to the twelve-year-old girl next door, I was naked to his gaze.
“So, Bruiser, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to see your father.” My voice came out wobbly.
“My father retired three months ago. He and Mum are currently on a Caribbean cruise.”
“So who’s in charge?” I asked, hoping that I was mistaken in thinking that he was.
“I am, of course. Who did you expect to be?”
This is why my dad was worried, I realized. Old Mr North had known him for years and knew how good he was at his job as an investment banker. This young upstart would only see the money he would lose if he lost Mrs North’s account. I decided it would be foolish to beg him for anything.
“Never mind, then.” I grabbed the side of the door wishing that I could back through it instead of having to turn around and walk through it. My mother claimed that the cheeks of my ass were visible under the skirt, but I disagreed totally. The only things visible were the tops of my thighs as they curved into my ass, but I didn’t particularly want him seeing that much of me.
“Come back here, Bruiser!”
I wanted to stick two fingers in the air and tell him to sit on them, but my father’s job kept me in a style to which I had become accustomed. If he lost it, I would have to find one of my own.
I turned around obediently and stared at him.
“Come closer.”
Walking slowly back to his desk, I willed my breasts not to bounce. They didn’t, but to my horror I felt my nipples hardening as his eyes zeroed in on them.
Bastard!
Instead of offering me a seat, he looked me up and down, slowly, assessingly.
“Did you come here dressed like that hoping to entice my father into reinstating your father’s job?”
“Reinstate? You fired him?”
Double bastard!
“I haven’t fired him yet, but he’s left me little choice in the matter. Mrs North is a pain in the ass, but she’s a multi million-pound pain in the ass. Sometimes you have to endure the pain, no matter how much your ass hurts, to get to the pleasure of the profits afterwards.”
Maybe it isn’t too late to stick those fingers into him, I thought.
“So, you came here flashing lots of cleavage and even more leg, hoping to make my father lose his head?”
“I didn’t,” I protested indignantly.
How dare he think so cheaply of me?
Triple bastard!
“I would need a lot more than a flash of cleavage and the sight of your long legs.”
“I wasn’t offering you anything.”
“Really?” He sounded so uninterested I wanted to knock his perfectly groomed head off his broad shoulders. “That’s a shame because I was willing to be convinced.”
“What would I have to do?” I asked hesitantly.
I would give him a blowjob in a heartbeat, but nothing else. I don’t like sex. I can’t imagine why people have it, except to have kids. My ex-boyfriend, Mark, and I had fooled around when we were sixteen. I hated it! The pain, the...ugh! After the fourth time I told him I wasn’t doing it anymore. And after a month of giving him excellent blowjobs, even if I say so myself, he broke up with me to have ‘proper’ sex with Darla, my bitterest rival all through secondary school.
“I want you to strip for me.”
“What?” I asked in alarm. There was no way I was taking my clothes off. The next thing he would want is sex. “I’m not getting naked!”
“You’re halfway there already. I don’t see the problem.”
“I’m not taking my clothes off!”
“You have no reason to be shy. Your body is very sexy.”
I like my body and like to stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom playing with myself. I know I have a sexy body. I didn’t need him to tell me that, but I also know that I didn’t plan on having sex again until I was married. And then only enough times to have the two cute daughters I’ve always wanted, Adele and Chloe, and never again.
“I won’t touch you,” he promised.
“Promise?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
When hell froze over, I thought.
“I won’t touch you,” he vowed. “But I want you to touch yourself.”
Oh my God, could he tell that I played with myself all the time? Were the words ‘frequent masturbator’ tattooed on my forehead in invisible ink that could only be seen if someone looked hard enough?
“Touch myself?”
“Yes, I want you to touch yourself for me, but you must follow my instructions implicitly.”
“Okay,” I agreed, liking the idea of getting him all hot and sweaty as he watched me play with myself, making his cock as hard as a rock…once he didn’t try to put it into any holes on my body, except my mouth.
“Lock the door first.”
