Page 2 of Bolted

“Thank God,”I mutter to myself. Now I can get a peaceful night's sleep without worrying about somebody curled around me. I know each girl secretly wishes I would let her stay but it's never going to happen. I rip the sheets off in preparation for changing them and glance at the clock. It's definitely time to hit the sack. Tomorrow is a big day with our new interns starting. Hopefully this bunch will be smarter than the last few we’ve had. It makes me wonder how the fuck half of these people even graduate.

With fresh sheets I lie down, not even bothering to put clothes on. My head hits the pillow and within minutes I’m out.

Chapter 2

Riley

I swipe the eyeliner across my eyelid for the third time this morning and watch it smudge again. Fuck. I pull my shaking hands away from my face. This is what lack of sleep does and I’m working on probably about two hours max.

My husband Nate had another one of his binges last night, and I spent all night awake, praying and listening. I can just see him barging through our bedroom door, half awake in a drunken stupor, intent to manhandle me again. The memory makes my stomach churn. It wasn’t always like this. Nate’s my highschool sweetheart. He was captain of the football team and I was a head cheerleader. Totally cliché I know, but in the small town we came from, that's what you do: you graduate high school, you get married to your high school sweetheart, you stay in that small town for the rest of your life and have kids. Then, you raise those kids so they can do it all over again.

Nate and I talked about refusing to be the same, to not do things that way. We spent the first two years out of high school as newlyweds in our hometown and Nate worked his way up at his job. Then he got a job offer in the city we couldn't refuse. I thought maybe moving would add a little spark to our relationship, maybe change things up from the small town expectations we’d fallen into… I was wrong. Within a year of living in the city, things began going downhill.

It wasn’t that our first years of marriage were perfect before they started sinking, because they weren’t. Come to think of it, our best memories were our first couple years of high school. Nate treated me like a princess. Something changed during his senior year and I'll never be able to put my finger on it. It's like one day, he went from being the perfect prince I had imagined since I was little, to sometimes being downright mean. It started with little things like grabbing me a little too hard when no one was looking if he didn't like something I said or did. It was never enough to leave a mark, and nothing I would consider super serious, at least not at the time. I thought it was normal. I thought that’s how every relationship was. I was young, naïve, and in love.

That changed though, something changed when we moved. I don’t know if it was being so far away from both of our families or the fact we were struggling to get by financially, but I’ve spent the last four years on a downhill trainwreck. It felt like trying to make any means necessary to get by. Nate felt pressured in this new role, and as a coping mechanism his drinking habits got worse and worse. He went from one beer a night to a six pack, then moved on to bourbon, scotch, or any available hard liquor. Eventually he couldn't hide his problem at work.

Nate doesn't know but I heard through the grapevine that his boss had finally had enough and fired him after he showed up to work smelling like he spent the last week inside a brewery. It's only been a few months of him not working but after the first week I already knew I needed a break from the darkness inside my home.

Thankfully, I had been smart enough to start going to college after we left high school, to not be like the other girls from the small town who decide they want to be a stay-at-home wife and not work while raising their babies. While I admired their dedication to their kids, I knew I wanted to make something of myself. I also knew I didn’t want to be stuck in one place forever.

I wasn’t going to be that girl who was left high and dry ‘without a pot to piss in’ like my mother would say. While she and my dad had maintained a fairly happy marriage and had my sister and I young, she had always encouraged me to be able to go my own way in life.

“Honey, don’t let yourself lose everything to a man. It ain’t worth it.” She’d drop these lines as she got my sister Corrine and I ready in the mornings. My dad was almost always gone at this point of the morning, already headed to work and wasn't usually back home until well after dark. To this day my sister and I still mock my mom when we visit or chat, quoting some of her most notable phrases. They were often accompanied by a glass of wine in hand.

It was with sheer determination I was able to land an internship at one of the biggest law firms in the states. Working for Bolt Corporation isn’t just a good opportunity, it's the opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe, just maybe, if I can work my way up in a firm like this I can get my marriage back to a good place. Like where we were before he changed into the monster he is now…

I wipe the corner of my eye and reapply the liner for the last time. I pull on my nicest pantsuit, which I’d bought at a secondhand store when I’d found out my internship had been accepted. After one last glance in the mirror I slip out of my room.

I sneak past Nate, still passed out on the couch from last nights’ whiskey bender, and ease out the front door. I jump into my beat-up Honda, putting on some 80’s classics to lift my mood for my twenty minute drive to work.

“Work!” I squeal out loud in my car. I get giddy just thinking about it. This is a chance for new beginnings and a fresh start for our future.

Chapter 3

Sebastian

I wake up at 5:00AM on the dot. This has been my routine for as long as I can remember. I have an hour-long workout in my gym then I allow myself the leisure of one cup of coffee, black like my soul, or so I’ve been told.

I read over the latest case files for the next hour. By 7:15 every morning, I am out the door of my building and my driver is promptly waiting for me with a newspaper in hand. I don't like change, being a creature of habit has always been a constant in my life. It's how I grew up. At the age of fourteen, my child psychologist called it a sort of coping mechanism, or something stupid like that.

That’s right, my parents had me going to therapy sessions from the ripe young age of ten. They couldn’t understand why their young, sweet boy lacked many of the major human emotions that most people typically have at that age. Honestly, I don’t even understand it and I don’t care to. I thought I was perfectly fine then and still do now. It's not like I came from a broken home. I grew up in what society would deem the ‘perfect family home’. As the only child to two parents whose families were both wealthy and influential, I never wanted for anything. Nevertheless, by twelve they had diagnosed me with some bullshit; personality disorder and sociopathic tendencies. I think their biggest problem was how smart I was, already two grades ahead of kids my age by that time.

I graduated high school at sixteen. I was already starting college classes. Who needs a perfect personality when you have good looks and brains? “No one.” I mutter to myself as I step through the double doors of Bolt Corporation. It’s barely eight in the morning and before my ass even hits the chair, Sasha, my assistant, slides through the door of my office holding a fresh cup of coffee.

“Morning sir. I brought your coffee. I have you scheduled for your first meeting at 8:30 AM. I left the rest of your daily tasks on your desk. Please let me know if there’s anything else I could do for you,” she says with her overdone pouty lips.

I say overdone and they are overdone, but that doesn’t matter to my dick. He just wants something warm wrapped around him and that’s one thing Sasha is good at. She doesn’t care when or where, she will suck my dick, swallow me up like a good girl, and be on her merry way. Every guy working for a firm like mine should have an assistant like that, especially in the type of stressful job atmosphere we work in. She’s still clingy as fuck and way too easy, but my dick doesn’t care about any of that.

So of course, how could I pass up a morning blow job before my meeting? My legs are already spread open, and I just barely lean back in my chair and look down. That’s all I need to do and Sasha takes the hint. She closes the door behind her, and attempts to seductively stroll towards me, all bleach blonde, with big fake tits, and pouty fake lips.

What she doesn’t realize is I don’t need the seduction, nor do I want it. “If you take any longer to get over here Sasha, I might have to switch you out for another one of the boy's assistants.” She frowns and hides the expression just as quickly as it came, before tilting her lips up in a smirk and getting down on her knees. Slowly, she unzips my pants.

“But I bet they would never do as good of a job as I would Mr. Bolt," she tells me as she frees my already rock-hard dick. Her lips wrap around, and her head starts to bob. I let her do her thing for a few minutes.

That’s normally how this goes. She bobs up and down giving her normal, what probably would be considered an excellent blow job, for most men. But I’m not most men, I need a little bit more than that to get off and she knows it. As I push her back on her heels, my dick pulls away from her lips with a pop. She smiles at the noise. Pushing out of my chair, I stand above her and wrap my fingers through her hair, which she knows never to wear up after three years of working for me. It will get messed up, not like ‘a windy day’ messed up, but ‘I just got used’ messed up. Pushing her head back against the edge of my desk. I hold her there at the perfect angle.

“Open up sweetheart, it’s time for the finale.” I shove my dick past her lips, and immediately hit the back of her throat with a groan. Tears start forming in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. She knows better. She knows that if she hollows her cheeks out and swallows me down that it won’t take me very long to fuck her face. See, I’m not trying to savor the moment. Like I said, this is the usual and the usual for me is pretty boring, but the release is what I’m seeking. After a few minutes of watching the tears stream down Sasha's face, I release my load with one final thrust, pushing my dick so far back in her throat that she gags and sputters when I pull away. I take my thumb and wipe away a little drizzle of cum at the corner of her lips and push it into her mouth.

---