Typist #1 - Working for the Billionaire Novelist (Erotic Romance) Read Online Free
Author: Mimi Strong
nightshirt off over my head so I was naked.
His gaze traveled over me appreciatively, both of us warm and golden in the light of the bedside lamps.
I felt myself starting to come, almost there. I adjusted my position, getting down on my elbows. My breasts rubbed against the hot flesh of his chest, and I ground down hard against him, rubbing my clit against the firm flesh at the base of his cock.
Moaning and sighing, I came, a wave of orgasmic relief crashing over me.
He grunted and held my face with his hands, locking our mouths together. His cock tremored inside me and his body tensed, and he was coming too. He groaned like a beast, the pulsing of his orgasm commingling with my tremors.
I smiled, because it was even better than I'd dared hope. Oh, the fun we were going to have.
But then, just as quickly as we'd begun, he pushed me off him. He stood, went into his washroom, and shut the door. The lock clicked.
I lay there, alone on Smith's bed, for ten minutes. I waited for him to emerge, but he didn't. The shower went on. Did he want me to join him in there?
I found my panties, half-way across the room, and pulled them on, as well as my shirt.
The bathroom door was, as I suspected, locked.
Did this mean I won Round One? Or had I inadvertently done exactly what he wanted me to do?
I walked out of his room and back down to mine, where I locked the door.
It had all happened so fast, and I was satisfied, yet not satisfied. He hadn't even asked about birth control. I had an IUD, which meant I wasn't going to get pregnant, but could he have known? I'd filled out a lot of information and had that physical exam before coming to Vermont. That schemer, he knew everything, didn't he?
Curled up in my own bed, I grinned. Perhaps seducing me had been his plan, but I'd definitely given him something to think about. What wicked thing could I do to him next?
I'd appreciated his exciting slam-bam approach, but that wasn't going to cut it next time. I'd probably have to tie him up to get him to take his time. Tie Smith Wittingham up? I liked the idea of that.
2: Leash-Training Your Beast
The next morning, we had tea and toast for breakfast, and neither of us acknowledged what had happened the night before—not directly, at least.
Smith Wittingham sat across from me at the long table and said, as he spread a liberal amount of marmalade on some multi-grain toast, “Sleep well? I trust nothing went bump in the night.”
“Something went bump, but not for very long, and I immediately forgot all about it.”
He stifled a grin, his lips pinched tight. He hadn't shaved that day, and had light-colored stubble on his chin, picking up the morning sunlight.
He said, “I hope you're well-rested, because today may test your stamina.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” I sipped my Earl Grey tea.
“If we hit Chapter Six before dinner time, perhaps we can find a way to celebrate.”
I turned to look out the picture window. “Such a gorgeous day.”
“Then it's settled.” He crammed half the toast into his mouth and then spoke with his mouth full, “We'll hike into town for dinner.”
That wasn't quite the celebration I was expecting, but it sounded fun. I'd only seen the little town briefly, on my way there. It was what the older folks would call a “one horse town,” but I'd seen a few cafes and shops. There had also been the literal one horse , painted as a mural on the side of a watering hole.
After breakfast, I followed Smith Wittingham up the stairs, getting another look at his butt. I'd barely seen it the night before, but it was the kind of ass you want to sink your teeth into: round and firm. It was the kind of ass that begged to be spanked, because Smith was a very naughty boy.
Inside the office, I sat in the chair and he immediately began to pace the room, dictating.
I glanced over at the bed as I typed. Typing was the last thing I wanted to do, but … to my horror, within a few paragraphs, I got drawn into the story
His gaze traveled over me appreciatively, both of us warm and golden in the light of the bedside lamps.
I felt myself starting to come, almost there. I adjusted my position, getting down on my elbows. My breasts rubbed against the hot flesh of his chest, and I ground down hard against him, rubbing my clit against the firm flesh at the base of his cock.
Moaning and sighing, I came, a wave of orgasmic relief crashing over me.
He grunted and held my face with his hands, locking our mouths together. His cock tremored inside me and his body tensed, and he was coming too. He groaned like a beast, the pulsing of his orgasm commingling with my tremors.
I smiled, because it was even better than I'd dared hope. Oh, the fun we were going to have.
But then, just as quickly as we'd begun, he pushed me off him. He stood, went into his washroom, and shut the door. The lock clicked.
I lay there, alone on Smith's bed, for ten minutes. I waited for him to emerge, but he didn't. The shower went on. Did he want me to join him in there?
I found my panties, half-way across the room, and pulled them on, as well as my shirt.
The bathroom door was, as I suspected, locked.
Did this mean I won Round One? Or had I inadvertently done exactly what he wanted me to do?
I walked out of his room and back down to mine, where I locked the door.
It had all happened so fast, and I was satisfied, yet not satisfied. He hadn't even asked about birth control. I had an IUD, which meant I wasn't going to get pregnant, but could he have known? I'd filled out a lot of information and had that physical exam before coming to Vermont. That schemer, he knew everything, didn't he?
Curled up in my own bed, I grinned. Perhaps seducing me had been his plan, but I'd definitely given him something to think about. What wicked thing could I do to him next?
I'd appreciated his exciting slam-bam approach, but that wasn't going to cut it next time. I'd probably have to tie him up to get him to take his time. Tie Smith Wittingham up? I liked the idea of that.
2: Leash-Training Your Beast
The next morning, we had tea and toast for breakfast, and neither of us acknowledged what had happened the night before—not directly, at least.
Smith Wittingham sat across from me at the long table and said, as he spread a liberal amount of marmalade on some multi-grain toast, “Sleep well? I trust nothing went bump in the night.”
“Something went bump, but not for very long, and I immediately forgot all about it.”
He stifled a grin, his lips pinched tight. He hadn't shaved that day, and had light-colored stubble on his chin, picking up the morning sunlight.
He said, “I hope you're well-rested, because today may test your stamina.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” I sipped my Earl Grey tea.
“If we hit Chapter Six before dinner time, perhaps we can find a way to celebrate.”
I turned to look out the picture window. “Such a gorgeous day.”
“Then it's settled.” He crammed half the toast into his mouth and then spoke with his mouth full, “We'll hike into town for dinner.”
That wasn't quite the celebration I was expecting, but it sounded fun. I'd only seen the little town briefly, on my way there. It was what the older folks would call a “one horse town,” but I'd seen a few cafes and shops. There had also been the literal one horse , painted as a mural on the side of a watering hole.
After breakfast, I followed Smith Wittingham up the stairs, getting another look at his butt. I'd barely seen it the night before, but it was the kind of ass you want to sink your teeth into: round and firm. It was the kind of ass that begged to be spanked, because Smith was a very naughty boy.
Inside the office, I sat in the chair and he immediately began to pace the room, dictating.
I glanced over at the bed as I typed. Typing was the last thing I wanted to do, but … to my horror, within a few paragraphs, I got drawn into the story
Readers choose
Natalia Hale
Salman Rushdie
Chinua Achebe
Guy Endore
Elisabeth Wagner
Daphne du Maurier
D. R. Rosier
Pam Bachorz
Marla Madison