Dirty Bad Wrong(5)

“Thanks for this, Mr Clarke, I really appreciate it.”

“James,” he said. “I’m not your boss, Lydia, you don’t need to act like my subordinate.” He gave me a look I couldn’t read.

“Ok, James,” I smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be leaving at five on the dot,” he said. “If you’re later than that I’ll leave my office open for you.”

I could breathe a whole lot easier once that suitcase was out of sight. With a dab or two of concealer we’d be back to business-as-usual.



***





James had already gone by the time I went for my case. He’d left it hidden behind his desk, out of sight. Sliding into his seat to retrieve it felt weird and invasive. His desk was immaculate; stationery and papers arranged in lines with perfect precision. There was a letter tray for incoming mail, but outside of that there wasn’t a single scrawled note, or post-it, to be seen. Even more notable was the serious lack of anything personal: no photos, no trinkets, nothing. His pens were arranged in uniform, a display of perfectly aligned ballpoints, all black. A black stapler, hole punch and calculator, all standard issue from the stationery cupboard. A metal ruler lay perfectly parallel to the desk edge, and a Trial Run notepad lay open on the first page, unused. Aside from the certificates on the walls there was no touch of the man in the room. A generic leafy plant sat on a bookshelf, which housed only industry-related publications. An empty wastepaper bin, without even a trace of lunch, or discarded paperwork. Nothing.

In a moment of impulsion, I took one of his pens from its position. On page one of his Trial Run notepad I left my mark.

Islington bound, safe and sound. Thank you.

I signed off with a big scrawly L and a flourish, and successfully fought the urge to line the pen back up where I found it. A bit of chaos wouldn’t hurt him.



***





I dreaded sofa surfing at Steph’s place, but my sharp exit from home had left me well and truly up shit creek without a paddle. Steph is kind and supportive, but I wanted nothing more than to lick my wounds in private without the world in my face. In Steph and Mike’s cramped one-bed apartment, that wouldn’t exactly be easy.

Steph did her best to act like it was a completely usual Friday visit, pouring me wine and chatting about her day until I wanted to talk. I kept it sparse, outlining what had gone down without delving into the emotional shit.

She listened without interrupting, and then said what any good friend would say.

“He’s a jerk. An absolute, motherfucking jerk. You can stay here as long as you want, you know that.”

“Thanks.”

“I know you aren’t going to bawl your eyes out on my shoulder and watch a rom-com marathon, but I’m here if you want to.”

“I know,” I smiled.

Steph twirled a stray wisp of blonde hair in her fingers. “Have you told your mum?”

“Hell no.”

“Maybe she could help?”

“Like she’s ever helped,” I snapped. “I’ve got enough of my own shit to wade through without dealing with hers, too.”

Steph let it drop. A wise choice.

.

***





Chapter Two


James



Cara spread her legs like a good girl, pressed tight against the flogging bench with her perky little ass in the air. Just how I wanted her. I knelt down behind, spreading her wide enough to trace my tongue around the tight little ring of her asshole. She squirmed like an eel, and I slapped her ass. Hard. The smack of my palm cut loud across the room.

“I said, don’t move.”

She stopped squirming. “Sorry, sir.”

I savoured my position a moment longer, her glistening pussy just an inch from my nose. I breathed deeply, letting my warm breath tease her. She tensed, but checked herself, keeping still enough to prevent further punishment.

God, I needed this. I needed the heady scent of sex, the musky taste of her against my tongue. I needed to feel her jerk and scream as she came, and even then still beg for more. More tongue, and more pain. I’d give her more of both. Gladly.

I buried my tongue, lapping at her slit and teasing a path through the folds to her clit. She tasted so fucking good. She moaned, but didn’t move a muscle, not even when I clamped my mouth tight onto her, taking her sweet little nub between my lips. Her scent hammered my senses, and my dick twitched in my jeans. Fuck yeah.

I stopped.

“What do you want, Cara?”

Her answer came within a second. “Your mouth, sir. Please.”

“You will remain quiet and still.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you move or make a sound, I will spank you, hard, understand?”

I saw her pussy clench. Horny little bitch.