The Promotion Ch. 02

I fucked up.

I've spent the last six months trying very, very hard to ignore the fact that the kind, funny, sexy as hell woman that happens to be the best damn logistics analyst I've ever worked with makes my cock rock hard every time I hear her infectious laugh or catch a glimpse of her generous ass. Every day, I consider asking her out. I consider doing a lot more than asking her out. I think about calling her into my office and bending her over my desk so that I can stick my dick into the sweet, tight pussy I'm sure is hiding under her skirts. There are so many ways that I've thought about using her body and making her scream. Of playing power games with her, of seeing if she'll let do with her and then holding her in my arms and telling her she's been such a good girl after.

I know it's about the worst thing I could do, but I can't stop thinking about her. When I wake up with a boner, it's from dreams of Ella's amazing tits and swaying hips. When I get into the office, she's the first person I look for. I stay late and leave my door open at the end of the day just so I can see the tiny smile on her face as she leaves, the one that looks like she's going home to a dirty little secret that I'm desperate to know.

When I saw Ella applied for the lead analyst position, I didn't even consider any other candidates. She's sharp and confident and works so damn hard. I can't understand how she's still just a junior analyst. It's so fucking clear that she's the one. She's already basically doing the job without the title and the salary. I'm sure the woman that I replaced knew it. The rest of the team knows it. Even the useless idiot that got promoted ahead of her knew it. Before he left, he was constantly "consulting" with her on all the work that required more than half a brain to figure out. I was seven shades of happy when his letter of resignation popped up in my inbox.

This morning when I sent the email to my manager notifying her that I was promoting Ella and requesting a salary 10% higher than that waste of space, I could hardly keep the stupid grin off my face. Being the one to recognize her for the incredible work she does lights up my insides. I almost called her in to tell her, but my jammed schedule would only give us a minute and I want more. I want to take her to dinner, to get champagne and shower her with all the praise that she deserves. I want to show her that I think she's amazing. I want so much more than I should, but I can't stop myself from wanting it.

I was thinking about it when Ella walked into my office. I'd been so lost in the fantasy of telling her that I didn't realize at first what she was saying. When my attention finally snagged on the breathy way she'd said anything, my fucking lizard brain just took over. Suddenly my cock was in control, and it decided we didn't care about what we should or shouldn't want. We were going to take it and nothing could stop us.

Which is how I find myself sitting next to Ella in an Uber heading towards my place, trying to get my brain to stop replaying the visuals of her mouth wrapped around my cock and my cum dripping from her ass, and start focusing on how I'm going to convince her to let me do it again. To convince her that I'm not just some asshole that took advantage of her desperation and lied to her to do it.

Ella's buckled in behind the passenger seat. I'm behind the driver, but it's a small car so the space between us doesn't feel uncomfortable. I reach over and cover the hand she's rested on the seat next to her with a firm grip. Her shoulders stiffen for an instant, but she doesn't pull away. She hasn't looked at me since we got into the car, but her aster eyes dart over for a second now. I know she's tempted to let them linger, and I also know why she doesn't. I hate it, but I respect it more.

The ride to my house isn't long. It's one of the few single family homes in my neighborhood, just south of downtown and tucked in between two larger early 19th century houses that have been converted into apartments over the years. I bought the place with my ex-wife just after we were married, when we were still thinking there were kids in our future. I thought about selling it after we split, but it's so close to downtown and there's a bus that runs a block over and anyway, and I can't quite bring myself to let go of the hope I had when I signed the mortgage.

The driver stops right in the middle of my narrow, car lined street. He spent the entire drive talking to someone over the phone in what I think is Somali, but can't be sure. There are a lot of east African immigrants in the metro from a lot of different places, but the Ethiopian and Eritrean refugees have mostly settled east of the river. The guy disengages the locks and waits for us to get out without acknowledging us, then speeds off, no doubt on the way to pick up another rider.

"This is where you live?" Ella asks as she looks up at the house, taking in the small, covered porch that's in dire need of a new coat of paint, dormer windows jutting out the roof and creeping ivy that I've let get more than a little out of hand.

I nod as I dig around for my keys. "Not what you expected?"

"No," she says curtly, giving me nothing.

It stings. I know I don't deserve a goddamn thing from her, but I'm craving it anyway, so I try, "What kind of place did you expect?"

"Not this," Ella murmurs softly as we walk up the steps and I turn the lock, pushing on the door just a little to keep it from sticking. I pause before pulling it open to give her an 'answer me young lady' kind of look and am pleased to hear her breath go a faster as she adds, "You seem more like a 'glass walled high rise' kind of guy than a 'starter home that could use a little love' kind of guy. Especially after..."

I grab her hand and pull her close, hoping the suddenness of the move will catch her off guard. She gives a tiny yelp, but doesn't try to get away. With my free hand I tuck back several locks of the wavy, ash blonde hair that's fallen out of the messy bun she tied it up into before we left work. In a tone that's quietly demanding, I say, "After what? After I used your mouth like I owned it and fucked you so good that you screamed my name when you came with my cock in your ass?"

Even as I'm saying it, the rational part of my brain is telling me to shut the fuck up, but the part that took control when she walked into my office and offered herself to me isn't quite ready to go back to the observation deck. Since it still has the wheel, it's decided we might as steer right into the maelstrom of carnal impulsivity, full speed ahead. I grab the back of Ella's head and pull her to me, claiming her mouth with the kind of kiss that gets memorialized in novels with unrealistically muscled men on the cover.

For the first few seconds, Ella's stiff in my arms, her mouth stubbornly unresponsive. I'm about to back off, but then a tiny, needy whimper sounds from the back of her throat and she's melting into me, opening up and softening with each press of my lips, each stroke of my tongue. Her mouth on my cock was the kind of hot that a man could jerk off to for the rest of his life, but taking her lips and tongue with mine sparks an inferno that I don't think I'm ever going to be able to put out.

I forget what I did. For a minute, I forget that she has every reason to hate me, that her lips and her body and her mind aren't mine and probably never will be. I just live in the kiss, in the fire and the need that's driving it. My fingers tangle in her hair and my hand cups her ass, that fucking incredible ass that I want to spank and lick and fuck until she's weak and shaking. Homer has nothing on the odyssey I'm going to write about Ella's ass.

The kiss ends so much sooner than I want it to. She pushes against my chest, hard enough to crack the hold my penis has on my brain and drag it back to the dire reality that it's put us in. The rage that dimmed to softly glowing coals on the ride over here flares back to life, flushing Ella's cheeks and hardening her eyes. I let her go, let her pull away even though every part of me demands that I do the exact opposite. For the first time, I whisper, "I'm sorry."

Hot, conflicted tears make her eyes glassy. "Why do you make me feel like this? Why can't I just hate you?!"

"You know why," I murmur as I bring her back to me with the same tenderness I used when I pulled her off my desk and held her on my lap. Ella's angry, but she's not fighting me. I tuck her head beneath my chin.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she replies, but the bite in her words is weak, like a kitten trying to be fierce with its pin prick claws.

"I know," I say with only a faint hint of a laugh.

A single, slightly hysterical giggle shakes her body. Ella slides her palms up my chest and wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine. I can feel the pause in hostilities, and refuse to waste it. I scoop her up and carry her inside, straight up two flights of stairs to the loft that my wife and I managed to convert into a pretty decent master suite before things fell apart. The eclectic decorating she'd filled the space with went with her in the divorce, leaving it feeling unintentionally empty with just my four poster bed and a mismatched steel and glass nightstand I picked up on consignment. Ella's presence immediately makes it feel less bare, her brillance filling the empty corners.

I sit her down on the bed, easing off her wedge heels and rubbing the arches of her feet before standing back up. Firmly, I say "Get undressed for me," then press another quick kiss to her lips before heading to the bathroom.

I switch on the lights and cross quickly to the clawfoot tub that sits next to two windows, their clear panes replaced with frosted glass. It was a hell of a lot of blood and curses to get the damn thing up the stairs, but having something big enough for two people seems more than worth it right now. I open the taps and wait for the water to heat up. While it slowly goes from tepid to just below scalding, I strip out of my shirt and kick off my shoes, then go root around in the cabinet under the sink. Towards the back is a bath soak a sub I played with for a few months last year never reclaimed. They swore it was the best thing for impact bruises. I liberally pour the salt/baking soda/herbal smelling mixture in then leave the water to run.

When I come back to the bedroom, I half expect to find Ella still defiantly clothed, but instead she's in the process of unclasping her bra from her otherwise naked body, giving me a great view of her profile. My dick is already half hard again from the kiss, but now it's threatening to take back over for a second lesson in Why Letting the Brain in Your Pants do the Thinking is a Bad Idea 101. It's telling me to bend her over the baseboard of my bed and see if her pussy feels as good as her mouth and her ass. I tell it to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up as I clear my throat.

"Ahh!" Ella jumps, her fingers fumbling on the bra. "Make some noise, Noah! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry," I say as I stride across the bare wood, stopping so close that I can feel her back against my chest without actually touching. After a second of stillness she reaches behind and tentatively pulls one of my hands up to the front closure of the lilac lingerie that looks so great against her creamy skin. I slide my other hand around her waist and push lightly on her stomach to bring her body flush with mine while I work the clasp. "I'll stomp next time."

"You think there's going to be a next time?" She scoffs. Her words are so sharp that I would take her seriously if she wasn't also grinding against my cock.

Ella's breasts spill out as I get the hook and eye separated. They're just as tempting as they were in my office and I can't help myself. I take them into my palms, lightly stroking the abused nipples with my thumbs as I murmur, "I think you want there to be a next time just as much as I do."

"I think you're a cocky bas-ahhh!" She shrieks as I pick her up and put her over my shoulder, caveman style.

"Noah! Motherfucker!" Ella beats feebly at my back with her fists. "What the fuck! What are you doing?!"

I kick the door to the bathroom fully open and stride quickly to the steaming tub. In contrast to the manhandling I used to get her in here, I gently slip her into the water. Keeping her off balance seems to be a decent strategy so far. A distraction from the colossal-ness of my screw up.

Ella flinches at the heat, but the immediate sting falls away quickly as she relaxes into the steam. I shed the rest of my clothes and slide behind her, twisting the taps closed before I settle. I whisper in her ear, "I'm taking care of you, baby. Be a good girl and let me."

Blatantly challenging her with the thing that got us here in the first place is a risk, but the way she responds makes it impossible for me to stop. Her submission is a drug and I need so much more than the taste she gave me earlier. I need to make sure she craves it just as much as I do.

"Fuck you," she mutters weakly.

I kiss the top of her head and arch my hips into her. "You want to ride me, baby? I'd love to watch you bouncing up and down on my cock."

"Fucking incorrigible..." She replies as she leans back, resting her head on my shoulder. I reach over to the window ledge where there's a natural sponge and a bar of cedar smelling soap. Once the sponge is full of lather, I smooth it over her neck, shoulders and back. Next I dip below the waterline to wash her stomach and tease her breasts, circling them in lazy figure eights. With each pass, I move closer to the little pink buds I ravaged so thoroughly earlier. She gives me another one of those pleading whimpers. The sound is like a mouth on my cock, sending blood pumping straight through. I want to fuck her again more than I want air right now, but I need to be sure she does too.

"Ella," I say as I move the sponge, deliberately rubbing over one nipple while I stroke her stomach with my other hand. "Tell me you want this. I need you to say it." I'm not playing fair, but I haven't been since she walked into my office. At this point all I can do is lean into it.

The muscles of her abdomen tense. For an impossibly long moment, the world outside the tub disappears. It's just us in the hazy light and lapping water, her breath and mine, the earthy smell of the soap, the soft press of her back against my chest. It's a liminal space. A knowing but not knowing space. A place to live in the what-if.

"Do I still get to hate you?" Ella asks finally, the soft lilt of a tease sweetening the words.

"Hate me all you want," I say with a laugh that deepens into a growl as I slide my hand down to graze her pussy and drop the sponge so I can grip her by the neck. "As long as you spread these incredible thighs when I tell you to. Open your luscious mouth for my cock when I demand it. Take your punishments like a good girl." I pause as I run my finger up and down her slit, separating her labia so that I can tease her clit for the first time. In a whisper that breezes over her ear I add, "Scream my name when I make you come."

She moans, deep and throaty and full of want. I know what I'm going to do next, as soon as she tells me what I want to hear. I ask, "Will you be my good girl, Ella?"

"No," she whispers, and it's like that secret smile of hers, taunting me. I slow my touch, loosen my grip on her neck. I'm not sure where this is going. She surprises the hell out of me with, "But I'll be your bad girl. I'll be your brat. I'll be your slut."

I'm only stunned for a moment, then I set us back in motion. Before she can give me any more sass, I pull her up by the waist and place her on the narrow window ledge. "Don't you know," I ask as I push her legs apart and lick up her thigh. "That's exactly what my good girl would say to me?"

"Noah..." Ella mewls as her fingers dive into my hair, pulling me towards her pussy. I stop licking, grabbing her wrist and tsking.

"Now, now, baby girl. I'm in charge here, remember?" I chide as I pull her hand away and send it behind her back.

"You are, sir," She says tartly, but she reaches around with the other hand and laces them behind her back, falling into the pattern I established back in my office.

"Such a good girl." I smile up at her approvingly and lick up her other thigh, stopping just short of the crease where it meets her pubic mound. I push her legs further open so I can run my tongue all the way from where her ass meets the sill to where her pretty pink clit pokes out of its hood. She gasps softly as I tip my head back to catch her gaze. I dip my tongue in again while I look at her, circling her clit. Before I bury my face in her snatch I tell her, "You just made me very, very happy baby. You deserve a reward."

Ella moans, her eyes falling involuntarily shut. I want to see them, want to know how they shine when she climaxes, but I also want her focused on the things I'm about to do to take her there. When she came with my cock in her mouth it had been a dare. An act of rebellion that both of us wanted. When we'd come together, she had to give herself the last push to follow me over the edge. I want this to be different. I want to show her exactly what kind of pleasure she can have when she gives in to me.

I explore Ella's cunt with my tongue. More long, slow licks show me which parts of her are most sensitive. She moans when I trace along the inside of her lips, mewls when I circle her entrance, spreads her legs wider when I dip inside to make me go deeper. She whines when I pause to warn, "Sit still or I'll stop and make you sit still."

"Please s-sir... please don't stop." Ella implores, the sour edge gone from her tone.

"You beg so well baby." I say before diving back in. Her pussy clenches around my tongue. She likes it when I praise her as much as I like doing it. My cock swells even more.

I go back to lapping at her opening. I take my time, letting the sensation that has nothing to do with her clit or her g-spot drive sweet, frustrated little cries from her. She pleads, "Please... please, sir... I can't... it's too much..."

"You can baby girl," I say as I replace my tongue with my index finger so I can give her more encouragement. Ella's trying desperately not to squirm, her thick thighs tense with the effort. I rim her opening and tell her, "You're doing so well. Doing what you're told. You're going to come so hard for me, aren't you?"

"Yesss... please... please s-sir..." she begs.

My cock is so ready to plunge inside her slick, tight pussy. I'm going to fuck her in my bed once I'm done making her come on my tongue, but I need to do something first. The thing that I hope fixes this, whatever this is between us. Establish a new dynamic, the kind that will show her what happened in the office isn't what I really want for us. The thing that I can tell she needs. That both of us need.

"Ella," I say so firmly that she's forced to open her eyes and look down at me again. "Baby, I'm not sir. I'm not your boss, I'm not your master. You're not my employee, not my servant. You're so much... I want us to be so much more, okay?"

Ella nods shakily, as though she's not sure if this is real. She asks hesitantly, "What are we then?"

"You're my baby girl. My brat. My slut. Sweet or sassy, obedient or naughty. I'm going to take such good care of you." I say as I lay another kiss on her thigh. More wetness seeps from her cunt. She really likes this. She wants it, wants us to be more, just like I do. It's pushing her closer. So close. I nudge her in the direction I want with a question, "What do you think that makes me?"

"D-daddy?" It's a desperate, beautiful question. A little lost girl's cry from the dark, uncertain and begging for safety.

"Yes baby," I say with a proud smile. Ella beams. She glows like a jellyfish, fragile and radiant. My cock twitches, so eager to be inside her. But first, "Now Ella, be my good girl and come for me."

I dive back in, alternating between licks with the flat of my tongue that cover all of her pussy and circles around her entrance with the tip. Ella's already nearly there, her body primed with my touch and my praise. She's shaking, the orgasm so close her body can barely contain it. After one more circle I plunge my tongue inside her opening and curl it forward, then drag it across her folds, pushing her past the point of no return.

On a long, wordless scream, her pussy clenches around my tongue, but I don't stop moving, don't give her a second of rest. Ella's cunt is an instrument I'm learning to play and she'll give me the high notes for as long as I choose to hold them. Her scream breaks in a jagged moan as I keep driving her climax. She whimpers, "Noah... please... Daddy... please!"

Ella shudders for me again and again and again until her body finally gives up in a boneless collapse of sated exhaustion. I drag her back into the tub with me and hold her, stroking her hair and murmuring more adoration, over and over "That's it... my beautiful baby girl... so good for me..."

She rocks back and forth in my arms like a top trying to find balance, quietly shedding the tears that have been bottled up since I was holding her in my office. Her body was aching to let them go, but my confession stopped her, short-circuiting the connection between the emotions we'd stirred and the physical need to cry. I let her sob silently now, waiting patiently for the intense emotion to spool out around us.

Ella cries for a long time, long enough for the water to cool almost to room temperature. Most of the tension has seeped out of her, but there's still something that she's not ready to give up, something caught in her throat like a curse at a family dinner. I prod softly, "Ella, what's wrong?"

Ella shakes her head like she's trying to clear it and spreads her arms to loosen my hold. I let her go, not certain what's happening. She refuses to look at me as she hauls herself out of the tub. The fragile hope that had started to grow in me crumbles. As she gets her feet under her she mumbles, "How can you be... you just turned my world upside down and now you're... I don't know how... I want to trust you Noah, but how?"

And there it is. The thing I can't take back. The ugly, jagged scar that I carved through ice that's too fragile to hold us. Bleakly, I say, "I don't know."