Page 3 of Never Yours

Martin tenses up and, after no more than sixty seconds, he pants my name and fills the condom. Shit, I missed my cue. “Martin,” I grit out as I clench my pussy around his unimpressive thin cock. I keep up with my kegels, but this is a hotdog down a hallway situation here. I can only do so much.

“That’s right. Milk my cock.”

What the fuck? It’s hot in books. This guy? Hard pass.

“Mr. Harris? You have John Grant on line three,” Alicia announces through the phone intercom on his desk.

Fuck, I hope she didn’t hear all that.

Martin pulls out of me and replies back to her, “Let him know I’m finishing up a meeting,” then lowers his voice and tells me, “As soon as I’m done with this call, I want you on your knees with those pouty red lips wrapped around my cock.”

Bile rises in my throat, but I manage to paint on a sweet smile. “Can’t stay. I have an episode to write.”

There’s no episode to write. This season is over, and I have already handed my notes to the producers for next season. I’ve gathered enough from our “meeting” that he doesn’t keep track of the sitcom schedules, so my lie should survive.

“Tomorrow, then.”

I nod, and he lifts off me, pulling off the condom and tying it. Swiftly shifting my panties back in place that he haphazardly moved to the side, inwardly chastising myself for letting this happen. My pussy may not be ruined, but my career most definitely is.

As I’m about to leave, he leans in to kiss me, and I instinctively slap him. Slapped my fucking boss. So much for quitting, I’ll probably be fired with assault charges pressed against me.

“You like it rough?” he laughs, rubbing his cheek.

He’s not wrong, but I wouldn’t let him touch me again if my life depended on it. Scurrying out of the office, he laughs, unfazed by it all. I pass Alicia’s desk, and she pins me with a knowing glare. She’s the office gossip with too much fucking time on her hands. Within the next hour, everyone will know what I’ve done, sealing my unemployed fate as the woman who unsuccessfully screwed her way to the top, even if it’s all lies.

I was fucked if I did and fucked if I didn’t. I should have said no, but no other network would pick me up if I was fired. Now? That slap may have cost me more than being head writer, I may never write for primetime television again.

I need to get away.

As I walk to my desk, I type out a text to Cassidy.

Can I stay with you for a bit?

Cassidy

Big city finally get to you?

Fucked my boss.

Shit.

And slapped him.

Ok, but that’s hot.

It really wasn’t.

Dad has a house for rent that’s been sitting for a bit. Consider it yours as long as you need it.

Did you even ask him?

No, but you know he’ll say yes.

I can’t help but chuckle. Even though I haven’t been back home since high school, she’s right, he’ll insist I stay there; I still get Christmas cards every year.

Hope the sex was good, at least.

Worst of my life.

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