Page 28 of Handling the CEO

“Pizza!” She beams as if I helicoptered in a chef from Miami. “One of my favorite five-a-day. Good thing you have foodstuff, as you probably don’t want me burning your kitchen down. But I think there is a serious discussion we need to have, which is quite critical to whether you get laid again.” Her severe tone may cause me some concern if it wasn’t for the sneaky look on her and playful smile. “Let’s see you... choose your player...” She pulls the second controller from behind a throw pillow, warning me, “You better not touch Luigi! He is mine!” The cutest, most non-threatening Luigi-protective growl makes me laugh, and I put her back on the sofa with a peck on the side of her head.

I pick Princess Peach, which is obviously the right choice, as for the next hour or so I get rewarded with several mind-numbing kisses as we play our game and polish our pizza.

“At least we didn’t have to wait for dial-up to fire up before we played,” she reminisces from the old days of the internet.

“Yeah, when we blocked the phone line for hours on end.” I smile, also recalling the trials of getting online twenty years ago.

DJ, however, suddenly puts down the controller and looks at me with delight, a blinding grin on her face.

“Phone lines! 90s! Shit! I know why you have such a high phone bill at McAv” she hoots with an ‘a-ha, the butler did it!’ face.

“Huh? We have a dial-up at the office?”

“No, silly—but that would have also been a clever idea. Come on, let’s go!” She gets up and runs upstairs.

“What? Where are you going?” I follow her two stairs at a time, and I see her naked and pulling her dress over her head. My other head has some better ideas, but I realize there’s no stopping her.

“WE are going to McAv,” she mentions as she puts Tae’s flats on. “I just had a lightbulb moment, but I need to see it with my own eyes.”

“OK, Avril, to the office we go,” I give in, as it’s clearly the easiest way to find out what is happening. “Let me get some shoes on and my phone and wallet.” I say, but not before slapping her ass. She gives me the evil eye, but I think she enjoys that.

The garage is a bit of a mess. My suit jacket is spread on the hood of my SUV, reminding me with pride of having DJ’s juices all over my face, her bra is on the floor, car door still half open. Her thong is nowhere in sight, which means that she has no underwear under her flowy dress, causing my cock to stir.

“Don’t even think about it, you horny caveman!” she cautions, as clearly my dimple is making it hard to hide where my mind just went. “We can re-enact the scene later, but for now we have bigger fish to fry.” DJ picks up her bra, puts it in her bag, and looks around for her panties but shrugs as she can’t see them either and gets in the car.

Having no alternative to following my woman’s orders, I put the jacket on the back of a chair and start driving us to my office, not at all thinking of her bare pussy within reach.

Jon

Thefloorsaredesertedon a Saturday night, just as I expected. My weekend security guards look at us funny, but they can’t say 'no' to the CEO strutting in whenever he feels like, even though their boss is dressed for the gym and is joined by a woman in a yellow cocktail dress and freshly fucked hair.

DJ spares no time in going to the top floor, then making her way down, getting under every desk, opening every door, and looking at every printer. I can only follow, trying to make sense of what she is looking for and enjoying the view of her bottom whenever she bends over. There must be some rewards after all for dragging me on her scavenger hunt.

“May I ask you something, Jon?” She looks at me after failing to find whatever she is digging for in one of the maintenance cupboards.

“Go on…”

“It’s actually why you reacted so ‘caveman’-like in the hangar when I asked what’s the history with Miranda.”

“Oh—frankly, I was a bit surprised you were that interested, and a bit apprehensive about washing our family’s laundry to a semi-stranger. You have to understand when she met my dad, I was abroad and didn’t think too much of my dad’s ‘flavor of the month’. Then she got a ring on her finger and started acting like an entitled bitch. She went from remodeling the whole house to demanding holidays and gifts from my dad. The worst was her trying to act like she was my actual mother, giving me directions and trying to forbid me from going out.”

“I suppose that went well,” she comments as she crawls under a table.

“As well as can be expected. I told her to fuck off as I was not a minor and that she should mind her own business. Things got a bit uncomfortable when she changed gears, and started wearing revealing bikinis around the house, accidentally dropping her towel around me after a shower and being suggestive, though not overly open, that she wanted me for other purposes.” The cringing look on her face matches my own.

“Nathan was her first target—he was more shell-shocked than anything and literally ran out on her when she came into the kitchen wearing nothing but lingerie. She must have found out afterward that his family disowned his father, so his O’Malley surname would not bring her fame and fortune, and tried to sink her claws in me—I think she knew my father was not well and imagined herself switching McMasters.”

“That is a tad disgusting. Why would you ever want your dad’s leftovers?”

“No idea, but that’s how her mind works, or maybe she did that before. In any case, she got nowhere with me, and probably this is part of why she hates my guts—the one that got away and all that!”

“But I think her not getting the company is also a part of that?” DJ rightly guesses again.

“Exactly! But I told you my dad had the vision of our name being carried on, so he never wanted Miranda to get any shares or the like. If she wouldn’t have pulled a positive pregnancy test and—at my insistence—took a DNA test, she wouldn’t even have gotten the millions in the will, which were really for Tae.”

“That explains quite a lot. Thank you for telling me.” She gives me a quick kiss but before getting us both worked up again, she frowns, looking around us, her attention going back to the search. “I don’t understand where it can be,” she mumbles in frustration, but turns to me again as clearly, she has more questions.

“Jon, is your sister really OK with Miranda? Didn’t really think her comment about the cake was at all appropriate.”

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