Chapter 7

His low groan vibrated through the air. Not a second later, she felt this tongue on her. Trish had always described how being ate out felt like. The explosions behind the eyes and the tightness in the stomach but nothing prepared Quinn for the absolute ecstasy she felt when he sucked her clit into his mouth. He released it almost quickly, not giving her any time to recover before completely covering her pussy with his mouth.

She buckled against him, almost falling off the seat save for his hand wrapped around her waist. He lapped at her slit, and she quivered, shamelessly grabbing his hair and holding him closer to her. Nothing had ever felt this good. His mouth was heaven. He groaned as he ate her out and the vibrations of his throat reverberated through her clit to her body entire body.

"Please don't stop." She cried, throwing her back to match the rhythm of his tongue. His hands spread her lips apart and she felt exposed. When his nose brushed against her throbbing clit and his tongue slipped into her, she almost screamed. "Please."

Michael was fucking her with his tongue and rubbing her clit with his nose. Quinn couldn't feel her legs. Tiny stars that felt like little orgasms stretched around her ends. The building pleasure was none known like she'd ever known, and it didn't take long for her to come loose.

Her hands grabbed his hand as she trembled under him, praying to God she didn't lose her mind. Her body shook sporadically until the tightness in her lower stomach loosened and she could finally breathe again.

She lay, spent with her eyes closed. Michael kissed her forehead and then on the lips, so she tasted herself. Opening her eyes, he was hovering above her with a knowing smile on his face and her juices around his mouth.

"You look beautiful when you come." He muttered, his eyes flying around her face before finally resting his gaze on hers.

She blushed, embarrassed. "I know I have a terrible cum face. Don't patronize me."

"Why would you say that?" He was genuinely asking. She could see it.

"I've seen it in the mirror." She admitted shyly, suddenly finding the small bar opposite them interesting.

He laughed. "What, you had sex in front of a mirror?"

She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. "Last time I had sex was in college. I have a vibrator."

His gasp was dramatic. "Shut up!"

She laughed at how ridiculous he sounded, hitting him playfully on the chest. "Don't make fun of me."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm just surprised. You don't seem like the type."

She looked up at him then. "What type do I seem like?"

He didn't answer immediately, only stared into her eyes like he was seeing her soul. "Like the type who's afraid to live for fear of getting hurt. The type who likes to play it safe."

How had he come to that conclusion? Maybe because she'd hesitated to accept his proposal? Or was it something else? She'd admit she wasn't a wild one. The most risqué thing she'd ever done was buy a vibrator. It didn't matter that she hadn't used it for a month, instead had kept it in her drawer, too scared to touch it and too chicken to take it back. When her friends found out, they'd laughed at her. Embarrassed, she'd made up her mind to get the freaking thing over with and hadn't looked back since.

"Safe is always better."

"Yeah," he nodded, straightening. "If you're a nun."

"This is the second time you're calling me that. What is your problem?"

"You sure don't moan like one."

She lifted, chuckling. "And how would you know?"

He laughed, fixing his suit. "I'm just saying. Live a little."

"I already agreed to be your fuck buddy. How much more living do you expect from me?"

Michael shrugged. "We'll see."

She realized that she was completely bare waist down. "Where are my panties, Michael?" Her neck turned, searching around the limo. "I swear to God—"

"You mean these panties?" They were dangling from his index finger. He had a stupid smile on his face, and she almost reached forward to slap it off his face.

"Give it." She stretched out her hand.

"Say please."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He raised a brow. "Beg me and I'll hand them over."

"You act like a kid, you know that?" She asked. "Why the hell did you even buy them? Hell, when did you buy them? What, do you have random vibrating underwear just lying about in your house?"

"I did tell you I'd get you a new one, didn't I?" He smirked.

"I did tell you that you didn't have to."

"Why won't you take anything from me?" He asked then with a serious look on his face.

How was she supposed to tell him that she didn't want him to think she was fucking him for his money? That she didn't want him getting the impression that she was a slut or that she went around getting jobs and sleeping with her bosses for monetary benefit?

"Just let it go, Michael." Fuck the panties, she could go without them. She hurriedly pulled her dress down, straightening them before sitting back on the seat.

"You don't have to act like you're not a gold digger. I don't care if you are."

The words were like a slash in her skin. Her head snapped to him so quickly, she feared it would break. "What did you just say?"

He shrugged, turning his gaze to the window. "I have enough money to satisfy all your whims. Just say the word. I want this to be a peaceful arrangement."

"Stop the car." She said quietly.

The rage building up inside her was foreign. Never had she felt so insulted in her entire life. And he didn't even look remotely remorseful. Oh hell, what had she gotten herself into?

"Stop the fucking car." She yelled the words this time, her chest heaving. Her fists tightened. She'd never felt such an urge to beat up a human being. Never.

He had the nerve to look surprised. "Quinn."

The car screeched to a halt. Fumbling with the door, she finally won the battle, reaching past him and climbing out. "You're a fucking bastard."

She, on the other hand, was a complete idiot. Oh, she'd been in way over her head to have even agreed to a stupid arrangement like this. She took a deep breath and turning around, she sighed in relief when she recognized where she was. It was just a bus trip to her apartment.

"Quinn, wait." He'd gotten out of the limo and was behind her. "Did I say something wrong?"

He just had to hear it. "This. Everything is wrong. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't want your freaking money, Mr. Rhett. Other than my salary, I don't want anything from you. Not sex, not orgasms and certainly not toy underwear. Stay the fuck away from me."

It did feel good to leave him standing there like that. She had a feeling not everyone could do that.

———

That night at home, she settled in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn and the remote in her hand, watching reruns of Love Island when her phone beeped. It had been difficult to distract her mind from the events of the day and she'd only successfully managed when the usual drama of the show began to annoy her.

Her hand shot out next to her to grab her phone. Unlocking it, she was Michael's name pop up.

Mr. Rhett: I can assure you; I meant no insult today.

She rolled her eyes after reading the message, debating whether to reply or not. She could just ignore it, act like she hadn't seen it. But her anger got the best of her. And for some reason, even though she was angry, she wanted to talk to him.

Quinn: That's not an apology.

She didn't have to wait long before her phone beeped again.

Mr. Rhett: I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I've never been here before.

She stared at the words. It might be true that he'd never had to apologize to someone before. He was rich, after all and the CEO of a billion-dollar tech company. He sure never had to answer to anyone.

Quinn: Why do you hate having secretaries so much?

It occurred to her that it was easier for him to accept her as an employee if he got to act like he was paying her for sexual favors. The man had lost nine secretaries in two months. If he wasn't the one doing the chasing, then something was.

Mr. Rhett: I apologize for the insult. I didn't realize it would hurt you.

That was good enough, at least. The implications he'd made of her sleeping with him for money had been stupid. She'd never even asked him for anything, and she wasn't going to. Now, she wasn't even sure she wanted to continue with their arrangement.

Quinn: I accept your apology.

Mr. Rhett: Let me make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow night.

Quinn: Michael, you don't have to do that.

Mr. Rhett: I insist.

Sighing, she stared blankly at the TV. Maybe this was who he was. Maybe he was just really generous with spending.

Quinn: Fine.

Mr. Rhett: Thank you. Good night, Queen.

Queen. Had that been a mistake? She stared at her keyboard. The letter 'e' was a long way from 'i'. No way he would've mistakenly typed 'i' instead of 'e'.

It didn't matter. He'd apologized. The thought made her smile. She told herself not to feel special about anything. He wanted something from her, and he was going to do anything to take it.

Switching off the TV, she took the bowl of popcorn to the kitchen and left it on the counter.

Quinn didn't realize he'd avoided her question until she'd gone to bed.

———

Quinn pressed the button on the coffee maker and waited as it beeped. She crossed her arms around her chest, looking around the small lounge. Since she was stuck on the first floor with the boss, she'd barely found the time to make any friends. The only person she recognized was Mrs. Davis from HR and after their last encounter, she didn't feel particularly chatty with the woman.

Mrs. Davis obviously didn't feel the same way as she spotted her from across the room and proceeded towards her. Quinn's coffee wasn't ready so there was no escape plan. She plastered a smile on her face as the woman neared her.

"Quinn, was it?" The look on her face told Quinn that she didn't actually forget her name.

"It is." She gave her a fake smile, tapping her fingers impatiently against her side.

Mrs. Davis nodded, looking around. The sounds of people chatting and laughing echoed all around them. It was weird, standing next to her with so much awkwardness in the air. She supposed she should begin making friends if she was going to continue working in the company. Though when she opened her mouth to strike conversation, Mrs. Davis cut her off.

"So...you and the boss, huh?"

Quinn's heart skipped a beat. "What... What do you mean?" She panicked. Did someone find out? Did they know anything?

Mrs. Davis's brows scrunched together. "Only that you've lasted way longer than anyone here expected. This is your second week. I have to say, I'm impressed. We're impressed."

"Oh." She breathed a sigh of relief. Jesus. For a second there, she'd been considering resigning. In her previous company, one of the girls in the finance department had reportedly been involved with two co-workers unbeknownst to her. The entire office had given her hell about how she was a slut and then one day, she'd quit. The thought of that happening to her terrified the shit out of her.

"What did you think I was referring to?" Mrs. Davis eyed her skeptically.

The coffee maker beeped. Quinn took the opportunity as she turned around for her cup to recollect herself. When she was sure she could talk without stuttering, she faced the older woman. "Nothing. You're right. It is tasking. I now understand why they quit."

The woman chuckled. "Tell me about it. I wouldn't agree to be his secretary if he paid me half a million."

Quinn thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she made no comment. She kept her mouth busy with her coffee, her eyes wandering around. She had no desire to talk to anyone here. They all looked and seemed judgmental and if they could place a bet on a person's livelihood, then they certainly were. She bade goodbye to Mrs. Davis, heading for the elevator. Her fifteen minutes break was over, and she had work to do. Thankfully, she didn't have to see them frequently or she'd lash out.

Michael had a meeting in ten minutes. He'd stepped out for lunch an hour ago with his sister who Quinn found out was the mother of the little girl he'd been carrying that day with his mother. He was due to come in any moment now.

Scenes from yesterday in the limo entered her mind. At least, from before he'd implied she was a gold digger. Shaking that particular thought from her mind, she focused on how he'd made her cum. How good he'd looked nestled between her legs. How he'd sucked her clit in and licked her slit clean. How he'd kissed her and made her taste herself. Her pussy clenched just thinking of it.

How would she repay him? It seemed like he'd been the one doing everything since they began this their little arrangement. She'd never even seen or touched his dick.

Quinn smiled as an idea began to form in her head. It would be risky. Very risky but worth it. Oh, she longed to see the look on his face. What would he say when he found out? He would be furious.

She laughed, because two could play the game.