Page 3 of Mr. Hall's Sunshine

I sit back on my heels as I drop my eyes to the carpet knowing that my gag reflex probably just ruined my last chance to keep my job. I’m sure the tension he was carrying before will snap right back in place, and he’ll follow through with firing me after lodging a complaint about sexual harassment with HR as soon as Jessica gets back from her honeymoon.

Fucking fuck.

Chapter 3

I startle when I feel his hands slip under my arms. He hauls me up to stand—he’s that strong, lifting my brick house-sized ass off the floor—and says in a crooning manner, “Come here, baby.”

In another shocking twist to this bizarre morning, Mr. Hall backs me up carefully around his desk toward his oversized, burgundy leather sectional butting up in one corner of his expansive office. His huge, slick cock is still hanging out of his unzipped slacks, swinging like a baseball bat when he crosses the office in two steps to lock his door and then just one coming back to stand in front of me like he possesses the ability to levitate or something.

Concern and something…more… swirl in his dark eyes and expression where I thought I would see scorn or derision for what I’ve done. Why hasn’t he zipped himself up? Why isn’t he doing that hulking, asshole bit, and yelling at me? Sending me to pack up my desk and having me escorted out of the building?

I lose my breath when we lock eyes, and he cups my puffy cheeks, cradling my face gently. He softly traces my swollen bottom lip with his thumb, and the action is so tender that my heart skips a beat.

“My sunshine,” he whispers. “My beautiful sunshine. Mine…”

“Yours?” I question in a breathy whisper, not understanding what he means by that, especially when he’s looking at me like I’m…well, like I’m the sun to his moon.

He nods and has to bend himself nearly in half to place the sweetest, most sensual kiss on my lips. I’ve never had a kiss as lovely as this one, not with Barry or any of my ex-boyfriends in high school. I’d swoon if he weren’t holding me up by the arm he sweeps behind my back.

He lightly licks the seam of my lips until I part them, eagerly accepting a fuller kiss with budding excitement of what else he might do. He takes these little tastes of me before moaning and slipping his tongue deeper, tilting my head back with two fingers under my chin. I grip his shirt over his chest with both fists to keep myself steady as my pulse flutters wildly, feeling tingly and lightheaded.

He pulls me closer, and the only thing stopping me from sinking fully into him is my large belly between us as it, too, flutters, leaving me again to question why that is. We’re both panting by the time he breaks the world’s most perfect kiss to drag in air before slanting his full lips over mine again. I never knew a man’s lips could be so soft and plush, and now I’m the one deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, his tongue, his affection.

And then his hands are everywhere all at once, dipping down to caress the back of my thighs, then over my hips, and up my sides to palm my absurdly large, sensitive breasts before—most shockingly—resting his splayed palms over my huge rounded belly.

And I find myself suddenly with my hands all over him, too, spearing my fingers into his thick, messy black hair, scraping his scalp lightly before dragging my nails down his broad shoulders, his thick chest, over his slightly protruding belly that I find incredibly sexy, and finally coming to rest on his enormous, bare cock.

He moans for me from deep within his chest and fucks my fist twice, three times, four, alternating murmuring my name and baby and sunshine and mine, before crashing to the floor on his knees. His hands shake wildly as he fingers the bottom button of the only blouse that still fits me after dragging it out of my stretched maternity skirt.

“Let me see, baby,” he begs, his eyes blown wide and pleading. “Let me see what’s mine.”

I nod before I even realize what it is he’s asking of me, and his thick fingers fumble with the small button. He quickly gives up trying to work it free, fists both sides of my blouse, and rips it apart up the middle, sending the buttons flying across the room.

RIP orange blouse that clashes horribly with my hair. Thanks for all your hard work.

Before I can so much as blink, he does the same to my hideous nude bra, leaving my breasts to rest on top of my belly like it’s a shelf. He’s so gentle with me after tearing apart my clothes, though. So tender and soft with his lips as he skims across the widest part of my bare belly, back and forth and back and forth, then nuzzling his forehead between my breasts as he wraps his long, thick arms around my back, pulling me closer until there’s not an inch that separates us.

I moan and tip my head back in ecstasy when he twists his head to latch onto one of my large nipples, suctioning it deep within his mouth before switching to the other breast. I cradle the back of his head and arch as my eyes drift closed, silently encouraging him to suck it deeper and harder as the heat of his mouth sends zaps of electricity and need straight to my clit.

“Mary…”

And just like that, a bucket of freezing cold water douses the flames of my desire, and I gape at him in horror, eyes wide open now.

“Oh my god, you didn’t just…oh my god!” I use every ounce of my strength to shove against his expansive shoulders to try to break his hold on me. “I can’t believe you…let me go!” I shout when he refuses to back up, and I twist and squirm, trying to dislodge his arms. My weight shifts—stupid new center of gravity—and I scream as I lose my balance, scared that I’m going to fall and hurt the baby.

But he doesn’t let me go, his arms tightening to a vice around my back, supporting my weight and saving me from falling. His eyes snap to mine when I regain my balance and slap his cheek with one hand, then punch his shoulder with the other.

He takes it instead of dropping me like a hot potato but yells, “No!” in a broken, panicked voice, then buries his face between my breasts. “No, no, no! It’s not what you think, baby.”

“You called me Mary!” I scream like a betrayed lover. To add to my horror, I burst into tears and slap my hands over my face, crying into them as I regret every ludicrous choice I’ve made that’s led me up to this moment—blouse and bra torn, my asshole boss on his knees, anaconda dick hanging out of his pants while he practically motorboats my chest as his fingers dig into my back, clinging to me.

Stupid, stupid hormones making me do stupid, stupid shit.

“I’m Sunny. I’m not your shitty ex-wife,” I whine as if he needs the reminder.

“You didn’t let me finish, Sunny.”

His eyes are glossy with tears when I drop my hands, on the verge of slapping him once more when I try and fail to wiggle out of his hold again, though I’m more careful about keeping my balance.

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