“Does that bother you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a traditional girl.”
No, she certainly wasn’t. But she was the only woman on the planet I had ever connected with like this. Somewhere deep inside, I knew what Clarissa needed. How I knew that, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps she was my soul mate.
On the other hand, I wasn’t sure Clarissa knew what she needed. Not anymore. I’d seen her at the club and I’d detected that she was holding back. It was the main reason I was being straightforward with her.
“Spread your legs for me,” I instructed.
When she did, I allowed my finger to graze her mound before slipping between the soft, smooth lips of her pussy.
“You’re wet.”
Her breathing had increased and her fork was paused in the air.
“Do you want me to continue, pet?”
“Yes,” she said instantly, her legs shifting wider.
“Are you eager?” I brushed my thumb over her clit.
“Yes,” she said on a soft moan.
I nodded toward her plate. “Keep eating. We wouldn’t want anyone to catch on to what I’m doing to you.”
Her eyes widened as though she once again realized we were in a restaurant. Her legs didn’t move, though, which I took as a good sign.
I teased her while I continued to eat, enjoying the way she trembled ever so slightly.
“One of these days, I’m going to have my mouth right here.” I pressed against her clit. “And I’m going to eat you until you’re begging me to let you come.”
She inhaled sharply and nearly dropped her fork.
My cock was rock hard and aching for her attention. But I had long ago mastered the damn thing. I was not a slave to my own dick. I was far more concerned about Clarissa’s pleasure than my own.
“I’m going to make you come, pet. Do you think you can do so quietly?”
She gave a jerky nod.
I placed my fork on my plate and lifted my wineglass. I sipped slowly while I rubbed circles against her clit. The faster I moved, the more she began to pant.
“Quiet,” I warned softly. “Do you want to come for me?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to come,” she whispered, her words clipped as her body slightly undulated as she pressed more firmly against my thumb.
“Come for me, Clarissa. Let me watch you.”
She bit her bottom lip as her eyes closed. Only a soft mewl signaled her release as her clit pulsed against my thumb. Her legs trembled and her breaths were labored. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I didn’t stop touching her, keeping my hand on her thigh as she regained her composure.
“Are you all right?”
The smile she shot me was sweet and genuine. “Yes. Much better now.”
That was exactly what I was hoping to hear.
Troy
“YES, I AM HIS ASSISTANT,” I said with a huff. It seemed the man had been questioning that since the movers first arrived at my apartment a few hours ago. “Have been for three years now.” I followed the straggling mover as he finally walked out the front door.
The guy chuckled. “That’s all you are?”
“Yes.” Why didn’t he get it?
“Do most assistants live with their boss?”
“It’s the nature of the job,” I said, wishing he would shut up and leave.
The man took two steps backward, watching me closely before spinning around toward his truck. “Have a great rest of your day.”
“Thanks. You, too,” I called after him. “The guard at the gate will let you out.”
I watched as the man waltzed to his truck. I hoped like hell his company had the decency to pay him and his mover buddies some of that preposterous overcharge I’d incurred to make this happen today. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that would be the case.
Yet it was done. Most of my belongings were being stored in one of those PODS things that they kept at their facility. The rest had been delivered here. And my new official residence was with Trent Ramsey.
Even thinking about it made me feel odd.
Sure, Trent and I were close. Hard not to be considering I was his personal assistant and handled almost everything that went on in his world. We spent days together, sometimes without the company of anyone else. We’d talked at length over the years and I considered him not only my boss but also my friend.
Living with him, though? That was weird.
When the truck headed down the driveway, I closed the front door and locked it. I wasn’t sure how I could still be surprised by the sort of hem-hawing that had occurred when I called the moving company and dropped my boss’s name. Incidents like that happened damn near every day but this particular one stunned me.
The company had treated me like royalty and I told them up front I was merely Trent’s personal assistant. That didn’t seem to make a difference because once I told them I only had two hours to move my shit from a 540-square-foot studio apartment to the lavish mansion grounds that Trent Ramsey occupied, they had hopped to it, arriving at my apartment before I did. They’d brought eight people for a job that could’ve easily been done with four. However, they did manage to get it done in a ridiculously short amount of time.
