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He chuckles darkly and says, “I knew you’d be fucking soaked.” He pauses for a breath and then continues, “Now, pull yourself together and get the fuck out of my office.”
He uses his fingers to press firmly against my G-spot and circles it once, twice, three times, making me shudder and moan. My head falls back into his shoulder right as he removes his fingers and pulls his hand out of my pants.
Andreas nudges me forward, which spurs me to button my pants and yank open the office door. Curiously, I turn around because I want to see the look on his face. Mentally, I snap a picture as I watch Andreas bring the two fingers drenched in my arousal to his mouth and begin sucking them. I file that picture away into my spank bank and hurry away.
I don’t have a choice but to go to the bathroom to compose myself. I use the mirror to check myself out and see that my throat is red from how Andreas squeezed it. My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are feral.Holy mother of God.
12
Chapter Twelve
Andreas
I watch Alana as she walks away, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment we just shared. Her blush is like a flame, vibrant and hot. I lick my lips, savoring her unique flavor on my tongue, a sweet muskiness that’s making me crave more. Her taste is powerfully alluring—like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I lean back against the wall and shut my eyes tightly, trying to get my raging hard on calmed the fuck down so that I can think straight. My mind replays the moments just before she left, my hands around her throat, my fingers exploring her wet cunt. Alana was so damn responsive; it was as if she’d been craving my touch since we met. I wanted to keep going and give her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams, but that would have been too much.
I take a deep breath and run my hand through my already disheveled hair. I look over at the desk and see the paperwork scattered across the surface. It reminds me of why I’m here in the first place - to work - and not engage in any inappropriate activities with my employee. With that thought in mind, I quickly gather up my things and leave the office before temptation gets the better of me again.
I walk as fast as I can to my car, getting there in record time. I get in and drive off quickly, heading home for a cold shower and a workout. The entire drive back to my house, I’m plagued with how my dad would react if he found out what happened in that office today. He has always had one golden rule: not to get involved with the people you work with, meaning, “don’t shit where you eat.”
It was a smart rule to live by, and he had made sure to always have a hard line between himself and everyone who worked for him.
I arrive home and quickly begin taking off my clothing as I walk through my front door. As soon as my feet hit the tile of my bathroom floor, I turn the water on and step into the cold spray, hoping it will wash over me and purge any remaining dirty thoughts coursing through my brain.
The cold water does nothing to quell the fire inside of me. Instead, I think of Alana: my hands on her throat, her pussy so wet and inviting. My cock twitches. Absently, I reach down and stroke myself.
The way her eyes shone as she stared back at me as she left the office. Had I called her name, she would have come running back. I grip my shaft harder, pushing my hips forward into each stroke as the pleasure builds within me. My breathing speeds up, becoming shallow and ragged as I imagine Alana beneath me, screaming out in blissful pleasure. The thought intensifies and a flood of warmth erupts from within me as I cry out in orgasmic bliss. I slump against the wall, letting the cooling water slide over my sweat-drenched body until all traces of arousal are gone.
With one last deep breath, I step out of the shower and a feeling of disgust washes over me. I’ve barely had four interactions with Alana, and somehow, I’m reduced to a man who takes advantage of my power over my employees and jerks off in the shower after.What is happening to me?
I dry off with the towel hanging outside of my shower and wrap it around my waist. I walk out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, trying to decide what I should do for the rest of the day. I needed to finish the new payroll adjustments, and I also need to visit two of the other locations that are within driving distance.
After I dress on autopilot, I act on instinct and walk toward the garage door, knowing that I won’t be able to focus at home, anyway. I walk into the three-car attached garage and see my motorcycle sitting close to the far wall. Riding has always been my solace, my escape, and my preferred method of clearing my head.
I throw on my riding gear and strap on my helmet before pushing the button to lift the garage door. I hop on the bike and kick it to life, feeling the powerful vibrations of the engine underneath me as I ease out of the garage. The scenery whizzes by in a blur as I ride the winding roads out of town and toward I-69. The wind pummels against me as I lean into each turn, and it brings a sense of calm over me that nothing else can match. It almost feels like flying as I speed down the open highway, but the drive ends too quickly when I take my exit and pull into the back parking lot behind our downtown location.
I park the bike, remove my helmet, and walk around the outside of the store to enter the front door. The sights, smells, and sounds of the place are overwhelming compared to the blissful white noise I experienced riding my bike. We lined the walls with flat-screen televisions that cycle between news channels and Major League Baseball pre-game shows. The music that fills the air ranges from classic rock to new-age hip-hop. Tables around the room are filled with people huddled around their beers as they watch their favorite teams compete or chat about life.
It’s incredible how diverse this room is: white-collar workers from all over town sit beside blue-collar construction workers who call each other by name. There’s a sense of community here that you can’t find in any boardroom or corporate office. I make my way through the crowd and enter the cordoned-off bar area to see Ed sitting at a corner table with papers sprawled out in front of him.
He looks up and sees me, then motions for me to join him. “Hey there! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here today. How’s it going?” he asks in his jovial voice.
Ed is a tall, slender black man in his late sixties with a bald head and kind eyes. He wears an old tweed sweater over a polo, with a pocket watch dangling from one side of his dress pants. Ed’s been a general manager for my dad for many years, and even though my dad has insisted he move up the ranks, he always assures him he’s happy where he’s at. He’s one of the people that pushed me to make sure our employees got a wage increase. He’s loyal and hard-working.
I sit down across from him and say, “Yeah, I hadn’t planned on stopping by for a few days, but I ended up on my motorcycle. You know how it goes. I just let her do the driving.”
He chuckles as the bartender walks over and asks, “What can I getcha?”
I order a Guinness and start looking over his papers, “So, is there anything that you think I need to know? Any requests for new equipment? I’d like to hear about any issues you’ve run into. I want my takeover to be as seamless as possible. But I also know you’re a brilliant manager, and I’m not too worried about this store specifically.”
“Other than me figuring out how to adjust to the new payment system, we’re doing okay here. You know me, I could run this well-oiled machine in my sleep,” he answers while watching one of the TVs off to our right.
Ed’s right, of course. This specific location is a powerhouse. It was one of the first my dad opened, and he got lucky with the people he put in charge. Ed’s got an eye for the day-to-day stuff, and he’s created an atmosphere that people thrive in. The turnover here is lower than all the other twenty-one stores. We spend the next few hours discussing renovation ideas and inventory issues while also catching up on each other’s lives.
Ed is a skilled listener and always offers wise advice that I know will help our business thrive. His insight is invaluable, and I’m glad that I took time out of my day to visit with him. We eventually wrap up our meeting and shake hands before heading our separate ways - me back to my bike, him back to his paperwork.
As much as I love riding my motorcycle, there’s something even more satisfying about visiting with Ed. I didn’t bring up any of the stuff with Alana, but just talking shop with him calmed my psyche and allowed me the time I needed to breathe.
