He tapped the window twice and Boomer hopped out, pulled his door open and stepped away. Like always, I followed the protocol and once we were inside, he turned to me again. “So, do you need to follow me to my room as well?”
“No, sir,” I replied. “Your house was cleared three minutes ago.”
A growl escaped his throat, and he took a step closer to me, his face just inches from mine.
“So, do tell me, Cruise,” he spat out. “Who should I get to take care of my sexual needs? Am I just supposed to jerk off? That shit isn’t enough. I need a wet snatch to bury my dick in once a fucking month. That’s all I need, and I’m good. Now, thanks to you, that couldn’t even happen.”
His hand jerked through his mane, but I simply stared back at him. Surely he wasn’t expecting me to answer his asinine questions, so I opted to be a sounding board, the way most employers wanted us to be… people to vent to.
“I wonder…” Those sea-green eyes continued to take me in. “Pull your hair out of that ponytail, remove those boxy-ass clothes, and you’d ruin a man’s concentration. Shit, you did that without.”
He blinked, as if he’d revealed too much, then recovered quickly, rolling his eyes before he stalked off.
I stood there, trying to gather my thoughts. I determined he wasn’t coming back and then secured the property, checked on the staff, and crashed.
Hard.
I dreamed of Mr. Richardson pulling my hair out of its bun, bending me over a desk as he kissed my neck, while holding me still by my hair that was wrapped around his hand. His hard cock was rubbing against my ass and I wanted him inside me, but he wouldn’t do it. Something was blocking him from fucking me, and I was so frustrated. I needed him inside of me. He was big and rough, but nothing.
Jerking awake, that was when I realized I’d been dreaming. I’d been massaging my own clit through my panties. I was horny, and I never get horny. I also never dreamed of clients. The dream felt so real, sweat was around my brows, my body burned with passion, and my pussy was wet with anticipation. He’d planted those thoughts in my head, and now I was hot and bothered.
Damn him.
Opening my legs, I pushed my panties aside and tried to recall the dream as I resumed fondling my hardened clit. My hand was soaked with my juices as I touched myself, thinking of him pulling on my hair and forcing me to bend over a desk. This time, there were no barriers. His hard, fleshy cock slid against my ass. Then he began to part me with his thick head.
I could almost hear him telling me, “You owe me,” before taking what he wanted.
He slid inside my molten pussy and began to frantically chase his orgasm while rubbing my clit from the front and pulling my hair, as he placed gentle love bites my neck.
Fuck…I rubbed harder. I could see it. I could feel him. The dream was coming back.
“You like that, don’t you…naughty girl.” Then he’d bite me again, on my shoulder and the side of my face. His thrust would grow wild, but he’d never let go of my hair as he fisted it harder.
Fuck.
“Take it,” he commanded…
I rubbed harder, then slid two fingers inside of my dripping pussy and began to come hard with a few mutterings of ecstasy.
Damn him.
Damn his words.
Damn this feeling.
I was in unchartered territory, but I knew that having sexually frustrated dreams about a client was hardly ideal. Hell, it never happened before with any of my other charges. What also never happened was the need that followed the dream. It led me down a forbidden path, and even after climaxing, I began to rub my pussy again as the imagery of my dream filled my thoughts.
Mr. Richardson had me pressed hard on the shiny mahogany desk with my nipples being dragged with each pull on my arms, so I could be in the right position for him to fuck me hard. I knew from our first meeting that he was a no-nonsense man, but that personality type had never turned me on. But if he behaved anything like he had in my dream that would turn me way the fuck on. Good thing, it was just a dream. Still, that didn’t stop me from imagining him pushing inside my tight cunt and moving in out of me like a man with a mission. With my fingertip rubbing my wet nub and ignoring the cramp in my dominant hand, I came hard…uttering a small whimper, since my quarters were in the main house. Apparently, as the head of his security team, I was given a suite on the premises. Anyone else who stayed onsite slept in the other house, on the far side of Eli’s mother’s home.
After cleaning myself up, I looked at the schedule for the upcoming day, then went through the surveillance and mapped out the various places we could go to. A number of people were coming in from out of town for meetings with Eli. That meant we would spend considerable time near the airport. I contacted a colleague who worked for the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) to help me out with incoming and outgoing known criminal suspects in Florida.
The cook made breakfast for everyone staying at the estate. He used the kitchen in the main house, and household staff delivered it to the other houses. Breakfast was not my ideal meal, so I grabbed a muffin from the counter and went to the security house to see my team. On my way there, I ran into his mother, who was taking a walk.
“Hey, lady warrior,” she said with what looked like a smile…I think.
“Good morning, Ms. Richardson.”
“Heard you went with my son to see his lady friend,” this time she tried to chuckle, but all the Botox had nearly frozen her facial muscles.
I knew she was attempting to get me riled up; she was under the mistaken impression that I cared about his rendezvous.
“It’s smart of him to set that time aside,” I pleasantly replied. “Most men are not disciplined in that way.”
Though her face was frozen from her nose down, her eyes grew big with shock.
Checkmate.
With a polite nod, I continued to my destination, where I met with my team to share the plans for the day. The only person who had questions was Felix. She wanted to know what she was expected to do when Eagle, Eli’s mother, decided that she needed “some dick.” It took me a moment to realize she was serious. That woman was a damn trip.
Mr. Richardson didn’t have anything scheduled for another hour or so, so I went to the empty guest room and called Joe.
“Hiya, Brandi baby,” he greeted me the same way all the time.
“Hi, Joe,” I replied with a smile. “How’s Mexico treating you?”
“Bueno. You should come down and join me. I received your care package. You know you didn’t need to do that, Brandi baby. I’m doing well here. Can grow my own food and even live near the water, so I can catch food, too. I’ve mastered ten different ways to cook fish.”
“Joe, you’re so funny,” I said with a laugh, picturing him in his Bermuda shorts, sandals, and holding some kind of spear. The man had always been an outdoors type.
“When ya comin’ down to see me?” he asked, then paused. “I know you got goals, but you got to see…”
The rest of his words, I did not hear, because someone opened the door without knocking first, like they owned the fucking place. I turned, and there was the owner of the place approaching me like the Incredible Hulk.
I immediately hung up the phone, even though Joe was still talking. “Sir,” I acknowledged. “Is something wrong?”