THE ASSISTANT

Malin James

You have ten minutes. Make me come.”

Her tone is flat. Matter-of-fact. The man inclines his head.

“Of course, Ms. Page. This way.”

She sets the timer on her phone and puts it away as her assistant precedes her through the lobby. She is due to meet a client at the bistro next door, and it is, quite frankly, the last thing she wants to do. She is suffocating beneath good fortune and success, not that anyone can tell. Nor will she let it show. Only Sterling knows. Discreet, intelligent Sterling. She trusts Sterling to know.

They move through the lobby to a set of adjacent halls. As they walk, he drops back to escort her. His deference is quiet but as real as the ground beneath her feet. She feels his hand at her back—close but not touching. Never touching. He never would. Not until she says.

“Turn left here, Ms. Page.”

Sterling rarely comes to the courts, but he moves them through the halls as if there’s a map in his head. She smiles, enjoying his competence. Competence is an intensely attractive trait.

“Will this do, Ms. Page?”

They’ve stopped at an alcove deep within the maze of halls. It’s quiet. Private. As private as one can expect.

“Yes. This will do.”

“May I, Ms. Page?”

She nods, impassive.

“Yes, Sterling. You may.”

She turns and presses the tips of her fingers into the pale blue wall as he comes up behind her, shielding her from view. She checks her watch.

“Now you have eight minutes.”

He nods, but does not rush as he draws her skirt up over her hips with his lovely, long-fingered hands. She loves his hands, loves the way they look when he grasps his cock and when he makes her tea. They’re the distillation of him—sensitive, competent, and intensely discreet. She knows his hands will do precisely what she needs.

He rests one on the swell of her hip as she leans back, pressing the length of her spine into the wall of his chest. His other hand reaches into the hollow of her thighs. Then he allows the fabric to drape back down over his wrist. She sighs, soothed by the hard-on pressed against her ass, while he strokes her through the panties she knew she shouldn’t have worn.

“More.”

He knows his role. He knows it well enough to know that this moment isn’t precious. She doesn’t want emotion and she doesn’t need romance. Those are for other times. Right now, his function is to make her come.

He nods and pushes the lace aside.

Her hips rise to meet his fingers as they slip past the damp fabric and into the folds of her cunt. She’s plump and ready. Not in the mood for games.

“Sterling, there’s no time.”

“Yes, Ms. Page.”

His hand withdraws but she doesn’t notice. She hears his belt and a zipper and then his cock is in her hard. Sterling is often hard. He knows she wants him that way.

She moans, low and soft, as her body opens up, coating his cock with a well of arousal. His breathing hitches but he fills her. He hasn’t come in over a week. He struggles but he does it. He sinks himself into her, slow and deep, so she can feel every inch.

“Don’t fucking come.”

She knows she doesn’t have to say it. She knows what he’ll say.

Of course, Ms. Page.

“Of course, Ms. Page.”

He reaches around again and touches her clit as she pushes back. Then he holds himself still so she can fuck herself on him.

His touch is light. Just enough. He moves with her, as she rolls her hips. The orgasm swallows her, hard and gritty, as his knuckles turn white against the wall.

“Feel better, Ms. Page?”

His voice is husky in her ear. Her entire body feels clean as she slowly opens her eyes.

“Yes. Much better, thanks.”

Mindful of the time, he withdraws though she knows how hard it is for him. Then he gently replaces her panties and straightens out her skirt. After a moment’s hesitation, he presses his cheek to hers.

Mallory knows that he wants to kiss her. The hard-on that he sports says he wants much, much more. But she knows he won’t ask. He would never ask. He is a very disciplined man. She strokes his cheek. An acknowledgment. Then she straightens and turns around.

“Go home and wait for me, Sterling. I’m going to make this meeting short,” she says, allowing her lips to drift past his mouth, just a whisper from his skin. “And Sterling. I’m going to want your cock. Don’t come until I return.”

“Yes, Ms. Page. Of course.”

He smiles. She can practically taste the curve of his mouth as she slips her hand between them and squeezes his rigid shaft. “Excellent,” she murmurs. “Then I’ll see you very soon.”

Dismissed, Sterling nods. Then he straightens his cuffs and leaves the way they’d come. Mallory follows a moment later, emerging into the lobby just as Sterling passes through the old-fashioned revolving door.

For the first time that day, Mallory smiles, a fully unguarded smile, as she watches him hail a cab. She feels rested and calm and refreshed. Only Sterling can manage that. He is something more than merely her assistant. He is pure, fucking gold.