A Sorta Fairytale
Authors: Emily McKee
A Sorta Fairytale
By Emily McKee
A Sorta Fairytale
Copyright © 2015 by Emily McKee. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: January 2015
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-025-9
ISBN-10: 1-68058-025-6
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
"Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairytale."
- Anonymous
Table of Contents
Stella
“And they both lived Happily Ever After,” she murmurs with a content look on her face while closing the storybook.
I look up. “Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Will I ever find my prince?”
She beams. Closing the fairytale book, she places it on the nightstand. And there it sits until the following night, barely collecting any dust, with ripped pages and Happily Ever After’s at the end of each section. “Of course, sweetie. You’ll find someone who loves and adores you so much someday, and the two of you will live Happily Ever After together.”
“With glass slippers?”
It makes her laugh. “Yes, Stella, with glass slippers and a beautiful ball gown. And maybe a pumpkin carriage with mice as horsemen and a fairy godmother to grant all of your wishes.” I begin to grin, but it quickly turns into a yawn. “You need to get to sleep, little one.” Getting up from the bed, she leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, my beautiful Stella.” Mommy runs her fingers through my hair and hums. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mommy,” I answer groggily.
Shutting the lights off, she blows me a kiss from the door. “Mommy loves you so much,” she hums before closing the door behind her.
I lie in the darkness, and before the sleep takes over I think of what Mommy said. I think of the handsome prince I’ll meet someday and the Happily Ever After we’ll have.
18 years later
Stella & Thomas
Once upon a time …
Sitting at a barstool, I twirl my glass of chardonnay by the half-clean stem. I’m growing impatient.
Why aren’t you here yet?
I look toward my wristlet. I know I shouldn’t. If you don’t get here soon, I’m going to leave.
I fix my tight, black pencil skirt once more, rubbing my moist fingers against it. Trying to temper my anger, I run my fingers through my long straight hair a few times.
Don’t do it, Stella. Okay, I’m just going to look and see what time it is. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth as I swipe my wristlet from the bar top. I shake my head a few times as I mutter “pitiful” under my breath. Pulling the phone out of my wristlet, I see I have a missed call and an unanswered text. I roll my eyes. “Figures.”
Thomas 8:03 P.M.: Meeting is dragging ass. I will most definitely make it up to you later.
Adrenaline races through my veins and my insides clench together. I can’t believe the emotions you make me feel, Thomas Braxton. All for you. Only about sex. No love. Just sex. “Ridiculous,” I grumble.
You still think you’re going to fuck me?
In one instant I go from hating you, you son of a bitch, to waiting for your cock inside of me, fucking me, making me come, and screaming your name. Your cockiness is what sends shivers down my spine and gets me off. I slam my phone back in my wristlet and zip it closed. I can’t believe how fast you turn me on, making me forget I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour.
When I met you two and a half years ago when I moved from Louisiana to New York City, I was your typical “I want to make a name for myself” person. I was twenty-one years old, and you were twenty-six. Some might think you seduced me, but it was actually the opposite. The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away. The only thing I thought was, “I want you fucking me endlessly.”
2 years earlier
Stella & Thomas
I bite at the corner of my bottom lip, staring at you, the gorgeous, clean-shaven Thomas Braxton, but you aren’t looking at me. Instead, you’re looking at the stack of papers in front of you like they’re the most important things in the world. My nipples tighten and I shimmy in my chair, squeezing my thighs together. I have envisioned you so many times, taking those black frames from your sculpted face, grabbing me and lifting me up on the desk. You push my skirt up my smooth body, slide my thong to the side, unzip your zipper, and push right into me.
You clear your throat, and I look up into your eyes. “Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Sorry,” I answer as I shake my head to the side. “What’d you say, Thomas?” You smile at me, sending delicious shivers down my spine.
“I asked,” you say, clearing your throat, “how are you getting along with your work and the Big Ol’ Apple?”
“It’s good. I haven’t really met too many nice people, but…” I shrug. “I mean, it’s not all that bad, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it. I never really get to go out anywhere,” you mutter and look back down at the stack of papers.
We have been working together a lot lately on this court case. I’m not a lawyer, just a personal assistant, but I help with extra work and errands. When I first moved to New York City, I sure as hell didn’t want to be somebody else’s bitch, but I didn’t have a lot of money, and I needed it…fast. Being Thomas Braxton’s personal assistant definitely made the payments. For my own guilty pleasure, I found someone to fantasize about when I touch myself. “Why?”
You laugh and wave the papers and folders in front of you. “Oh, I don’t know.”
I laugh. Shaking my head, I ask, “What are you up to this weekend?”
Pursing your lips, you bring your hands up in front of you and crack them together. “Not much. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking…I’m new to the city and don’t really know many people. What do you say you show me around?”
“Really?” You snicker. “Why would you want to hang out with your boss?”
“Well, I’m either here or at my apartment. Most of the people here aren’t all that friendly.” You start to laugh when I add, “Besides you that is.”
Pointing toward me, you say, “You’re good.”
I stop tapping my pen against the notebook and set it down. “What do you mean by that?”
“Trying to climb the ladder as fast as you can?”
“Not at all. It just so happens you are the nicest person here. Heck, if you weren’t my boss, I’d probably ask you to have a drink with me. Maybe even dinner.” Your eyes go black, and my insides clench. I’ve got you right where I want you. It’s not the fact that you’re my boss, per se. It just makes what we will have that much more enticing. To know you and I will do the inner-relations fucking on your desk is making my insides do somersaults.
You ask, “You would?”
I adjust myself in the seat and scoot closer to you. I’m wearing a low-cut, probably inappropriate blouse, and I’m surprised no one has mentioned it. More than likely you can see my hardened nipples through the light pink material. “I would.”
You clear your throat again. Probably to erase the images of us fucking. “But, yes. Yes, I understand what you mean.”
Placing the pen and notebook down on the corner of your desk, I sit back and spread my legs.
You gasp. “Stella.”
“Yes?” I ask, putting my fingers to the buttons on my blouse.
I see your Adam’s apple move up, then down before you say, “This is inappropriate, Stella.”
I smile.
I’ve got you right where I want you.
“Well,” I say getting up from my seat, shutting the door, thankful the blinds are closed already. I spin around and rest my arched back against the door. “That’s what’s so fun about it. Don’t you agree?” You don’t say anything as you get up from the chair. My gaze leaves yours and travels down your body, excited to see the bump in your pants. I lick my bottom lip, then bite down hard on it. My eyes skim up your body and stare into your dark, hooded eyes.
“I don’t do girlfriends.”
“That’s fine.” I smirk. “Because I’m not your girlfriend.”
“What are you then?”
“I’m your employee. Nothing m—” You don’t let me say anything else. Grabbing me by my waist, you pull me to you, and shut me up when your lips meet mine. I gasp from the pressure of your lips on mine. From the amazing sensation when the bump in your pants rocks against my sensitive area.
As I open my mouth for more, you lean away from me, wiping your mouth, like I’m some sort of cockroach. “I can’t do this, Stella. I just…” But I don’t let you continue.
I walk toward you, pushing you backward until you’re sitting in your office chair. “I know you want to fuck me,” I purr. Bringing my hands up to my blouse, I start to unbutton it. You don’t say anything. I knew you wouldn’t. My breasts push out against the white lace bra. I love that I wore this one today. The white lace symbolizes a virginal state, and I’m anything but.
“What do you want from me, Stella?” you ask gruffly.
I don’t answer you. Not yet, anyway. Instead, I kneel in front of you, placing my hands on your upper thighs. I lick my lips in anticipation. Trailing my fingers up your suit pants, I answer when my fingers are on the zipper. “I want your cock, Thomas. It’s that
simple.” Again, you don’t say anything. Instead you sit back, relax, and enjoy the pleasure I give you.
“What are you doing to me?” you ask more to yourself than to me, not looking away.
I unzip the zipper and never take my eyes off your hazel ones. Your cock springs out, pointing at me, but I don’t look directly at it. I grab the rock hard velvet and give a gentle squeeze. You grin, showing you like what I’m doing. I run your hardness against my lips. “I’m going to suck you now.” I don’t let you answer. I just take what’s mine. Your cock. In my wet little mouth. You twitch, causing me to gag. You growl, seeming to like what I’m doing to your cock.
Looking away from you, I concentrate on the fine specimen in front of me, tasting and touching. I’m not prepared when you grab me roughly by my upper arms, yanking me up onto my stilettos. “Wh…what are you doing?”
Don’t you like what I’m doing? It seemed so.
You spin me around roughly. I grab the cherry-wood carved desk. The pen holder falls over, making a splash onto the desktop. The papers you were so concerned about before flitter to the old, grey carpet. Your hands graze my thighs. “You’re so damn sweet,” you rumble against my ear.
I rub my ass against your hard length. Wanting. Needing you inside me. I lean my head back against you, wanting just a little bit more. “What are you going to do to me?” I feel your cheeks rise against the side of my face, and I know you’re smiling.
A deep roar descends against my ear, and you suck my lobe roughly. My mouth opens and a small whimper escapes. Your hand meets my ass with a slap. I make a jolting noise and turn around, smacking your hand away from me. “What the hell was that for?” I bite out.
You don’t answer, just spin me around once more and bend me over. “I didn’t ask for you to speak,” you growl while hoisting the tight-fitted skirt up my body.
I wiggle my ass against your hardness and close my eyes, waiting for what you’re going to do to me. I dig my fingernails against the wood and feel your fingers swiftly pull my thong to the side, rubbing your length against my opening.
You chuckle. “Does someone want my cock in her?”
I don’t answer fast enough for you, and you smack me on the ass. “Ow!”
“Answer me.”
While you rub the sore spot, I say, “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want your cock in me.”
Positioning yourself against my entrance, you hiss, “With pleasure,” and slam into me.
The single thrust alone almost makes me come. For a second I forget we’re in the office, and I wail. Loudly.
Putting a hand over my mouth, you nip at my neck followed by a lick. “As badly as I want to hear you scream…” you snarl, “I can’t. At least right now.”
Right now? There’s going to be a next time?
“At least I want there to be a next time.”
“Mmm.” I move my hips back and forth against your cock and say, “I’d like that very much.”
“Good.” You pull out and slam right back in. “Fuck, Stella, you feel so good.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t want to be punished
again.
Or maybe I do?
You slap me on the ass, then rub the spot and ask, “Do you enjoy my cock fucking you?”
“Mhm,” I whine.
Again, you slap the same spot. “Answer me, dammit.” I don’t have a chance, because you spin me around and hoist me up onto the desk. Before I can get situated on the desk, you enter me again.
My eyes close and my head falls back. “Fuck, Thomas.”
Your eyes meet mine, and you grin. “You like that?”
I think you like the fact I’m not able to answer, because you grip my ass and slam right into me. My head falls forward and I bite at your hard pecs. A growl resonates from deep within your throat. I like that. I like that I can get these noises to erupt and these smells to permeate from your body. The smells of sex oozing from a fine specimen like yourself? There’s no better experience in the world.
You grip my ass and pump into me. I can’t take the sensations anymore. “Oh my god,” I stammer. I know it’s coming. My legs begin to shake. My nails dig into your skin. My mouth falls open.
“Come for me, Stella,” you order, continuing your hard thrusts.
“Fuck,” I cry out loudly as the waves crash through me. They begin at the center of my chest and move in shockwaves down my body to my core. “Fuck, Thomas,” I stutter.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Your eyes glimmer with excitement as you continue to swiftly move in and out of me.
The sensations become too much. I’m thankful when you pull out. White spurts pump out of you and onto my thighs. I shriek with achievement…on the inside…that I got you to moan, proud I made you come.
You don’t bother zipping yourself back into your dress pants. You just walk over and fall back into your chair, rest your head against the back, and close your eyes. “Fuck that was amazing.”
I beam, satisfied you enjoyed what I did. “Good,” I say, swiping a tissue from the box and cleaning myself up.
While I button up my blouse, you open your eyes. “What do you say we make this a weekly thing?”
I completely forgot I told you there would be a next time. I said it in the heat of the moment so you would fuck me. “What’s that mean?”
You don’t answer me right away. Standing up, you zip yourself back in, sit down, and wave a hand toward me. “Look, Stella, I told you. I don’t do relationships.”
I sit back down in the chair, never looking away. I want to see if you’ll break, but you don’t. You meet my stare dead on. I cross my legs, sit back, and relax. “And like I told you, Thomas. I don’t do relationships either.”
“Why?”
“My reasons. I don’t see they’re really any of your business. I don’t need a therapist. I certainly don’t need a boyfriend. I just need a cock every once in a while.”
You rest your hands on the back of your neck and lean back in the chair. “Good, because I need to get some sweet smelling pussy. I also have events, dinners, and functions I need a beautiful woman to attend with me.”
“Oh?”
You nod. “Mhm. I want you to be that for me.”
Sucking the corner of my bottom lip into my mouth, I cross my arms in the front of my chest, debating what you said.
“So, what do you think?”
I lean into you. “The second
the lines start to blur—”
“They won’t,” you cut in.
For any other girl that would be a sting, but to me, it’s music to my ears. “If,” I say, raising my index finger, “they do?” I point toward the door to your office. “I’m gone. From this office, this,” I say, waving my hand in between the two of us, “I’m gone.”
“Deal.”
“Okay.” I smile. “Deal.”