Page 33 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

I text her my address and stand there for a few minutes. If she’s on time, she’ll be here soon. I need a shower. I need to have some coffee so my brain is switched on right, and I need to figure out why the hell I invited her to my place and what I’m going to talk about. I know I’m crossing a million ethical lines, and I know if anyone else in my company were to even suggest such a thing to one of my employees, I’d have HR fire them on the spot. But then again, I am the company.

I make the rules.

"You should abide by the rules you set, Ethan," I mumble, trying to remind myself that I can’t cross the line. If my employees can’t cross the line, then I can’t cross the line. I pride myself on one rule for everyone at the company, one policy for all, open door talks, etc.

It’s just a different door that’s open now. I chuckle to myself and shake my head. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I figure I have… I look at my watch for a second… fifty-eight minutes to figure it out. Fifty-eight minutes to find a reason to have invited Sarah Kahan to my apartment. Fifty-eight minutes to find out everything I can about her online and in her HR file. Fifty-eight minutes to figure out if this woman is trying to pull my leg or if she’s just the biggest goofball. I think about the jingle we have to write for Lord Chambers and the conversation that we will have.

I can make the meeting about the jingle.

I can make the jingle part of the marketing plan for the new home renovation stores we’re about to open, which will sell ninety-five percent of our products. Many people in the company, including Sarah, don’t yet know about this launch.

However, maybe that’s the reason I can give her to having her come to my home instead of the office.

"You got it, boy." I smile to myself as I head to my bathroom to shower.

I pull off my shirt and boxer shorts, turn on the water, and wait for it to get hot. I step in and take a big, deep breath as the hot water cascades down my body. I grab the shampoo, squeeze it into my palm, rub it into my hair, and close my eyes. All I can think about is Sarah in there with me, naked except for a thong and maybe some heels, dancing, grinding on me, taking her bun down and shaking out her hair, taking off her glasses and batting her big blue eyes, and then dropping to her knees and taking my cock in her mouth.

"Fuck," I say as my palm finds my cock and starts moving back and forth. The last thing I need is to have a dirty fantasy about the woman that’s going to be in my apartment within an hour or so, but I can’t stop myself. I don’t even know what she looks like naked, but I’ve seen her shape through her clothes. She looks like she’s got a beautiful, curvy body, just the way I like; big boobs and a big ass. Fuck, I could fuck her so hard and so fast. I’d love to hear her screaming out in pleasure. I’d love to hear her calling out my name. I’d love to hear her begging me.

"Oh, hell," I say as my hand starts moving faster and faster. "You’re in trouble, Ethan," I mumble as I explode into the shower, and my cum goes down the drain. I know it’s better for me to release my pent-up sexual desire for this woman now rather than when she arrives. The last thing I need is to suggest that she earn those singles today while grinding on my lap because, even if I’m joking, I don’t know what will happen.

There’s a part of me that feels like she’ll slap me across the face and tell me off, and another part of me feels like she’ll be delighted by the offer and give me the lap dance of my life. I already know she’s got the moves. I’ve already seen her swinging her hips. I’ve seen her parted lips and sweaty brow. It would be very hard to stop her if anything got going.

It would be even harder to stop me. In fact, I know there would be no stopping me. The last thing in the world I need right now is a lap dance from Sarah Kahan, because I don’t know what would come after that.

Or maybe the problem is, I do know. Maybe the problem is that I kind of want it to happen. I know it can’t. She knows it can’t. I cannot cross that line. No matter how badly I want to. I don’t even know how I’d tell her about my five-night rule. Though, I know I’d enjoy each and every one of those nights. I’d savor them. I’d have her coming so hard, that she’d realize she’s never had an orgasm before me.

But I know I can’t go down that road. Not at all. It would be bad news. I have to focus on work. Like always. Work is what is important.

13

Sarah

Dear Diary,

I know anyone reading this diary will wonder what caused my last entry. But I do not have time to dish on that right now because I have more important news to tell you about. Your girl had an O today. Yes, a capital O.

I know you want to know who, what, why, when, and where. But a true lady never reveals her secrets.

Lucky for you, I’m not a true lady, hehe.

Sexy Slamming Sarah

My phone screen flashes on and off, and I see it’s now noon. I’ve been standing outside Ethan’s building for the last hour and ten minutes. I got here far too early, and I’m not sure if it’s due to eagerness or nerves. I have no idea why he wants to see me in his home. This is not a typical request from the CEO of any company. Aside from maybe the company Christian Grey ran, and it’s been so long that I can’t even remember the name. Not that I’m an innocent college student about to fall into Ethan Rosser’s dominant trap. I’m totally not into that sort of stuff. Not that it’s ever been offered to me before.

"Not like it’s going to be offered to you now, dumbass," I mumble under my breath as I enter the building and head toward the elevator. I’m surprised Ethan doesn’t live in a building with a doorman. I thought every rich person in Manhattan would do so. I guess that means Ethan is not like every other rich person, but I know inside, a part of me already knew that. Even though I don’t know any other rich people other than Colton Hart, Ella’s boyfriend, and if I’m being honest, I barely know him.

I push the button and wait for the elevator to arrive. My entire body is vibrating, and I ponder running out of the building and heading home. I can bury myself under the sheets, watch TV, and pretend that none of this is happening. I look back to the entrance and am about to leave when the elevator doors open, so I walk inside slowly. So slowly that if I were having a race with a tortoise, I would lose. I‘m nervous. Really, really nervous. I have no idea what is about to happen.

I could be fired. I could be asked to strip. I could be told to cook him lunch from scrap meats, though that is very unlikely. The only reason it popped to mind is that I’d been watchingChoppedbefore I left my apartment to head over here. There is no way that Ethan is going to give me a selection of random foods and tell me to come up with a meal. Though, maybe he’s expecting to hear a jingle.

I tap my fingers against the wall and try to think of a cool beat. "Da dum, da da da, da dum," I sing in a high C octave. "Da dum, da, da, da, da dum," I hum again. "Get your lights, make it bright, treat your guests to a multi-fest, make it shine, treat them right. They are royalty," I sing and tap my foot to the beat. "Not bad," I mumble. "Not perfect, but not bad." I take a deep breath. My mind wanders to Ethan and his seriously handsome face. I wonder how many women would kill to be where I am right now. I can’t believe that I’m about to see his home.

What is this life?

A week ago, I was bitching that he didn’t even know I existed, and now I’m about to have a one-on-one with him about who knows what? I quickly pull out my phone and text Isabel and Ella. Even though I am mad at them, I want them to know where I am. Just in case anything crazy goes down. I’ve watched enoughDatelineto know you can’t trust anyone. The elevator dings when it reaches the floor, and I step out hesitantly. My heart is racing now, and I feel both hot and cold at the same time. I pause as I exit and take a breath. I’m feeling slightly faint.

Am I making a mistake going to his home? Not that it really matters if I do think it’s a mistake because lord knows I’m not going back home now. I am going to see this thing through. I head toward his front door and am about to knock when it opens. Ethan is standing there with a towel around his shoulders. He’s wearing loose black shorts and a baggy gray shirt. His hair appears damp, and I wonder if he just got done working out.

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