She’d gone wild practically since he’d opened the closet door, so now was not the moment to tame a runaway horse. She shoved her sex against his hand as he pulled his dick from his underwear. “Holden, please, put it inside me!”
Rumbling deep in his throat, he brushed the tip of his cock through the slick folds of her sex. “Is this what you want, you sexy little slut?” he growled, his teeth glinting white as he bared them in a snarl.
“Yes!”
His eyes misted when he studied her face. “Lucy,” he groaned, just as he rammed home. Lucy cried out at the feel of his thick, engorged penis thrusting through the tight muscles of her oozing sex, and just the feel of him stretching her, pushing her, possessing her, made her shudder in orgasm.
Agonized, Holden groaned, and with a superhuman effort pounded into her one, two, three more times and followed her, to heaven or hell or wherever this wondrous, dark, explosive place was.
In less time than it took Lucy to recover, he set her down, straightened, and in a low but nonetheless clear voice said, “That will be all, Miss Divine.”
Three
Lucy was a slut.
Or at least she felt like one.
No, she really was a slut.
Gratefully, she hadn’t seen Patrick Holden all day, and the distraction of taking Mrs. Holden shopping was proving to serve as much-needed therapy for Lucy. Dear God, why, oh why had she let him touch her like that? She should have smacked him, quit her job and gone home. Instead, she’d wrapped herself around him like a wanton, slutty python. Oh, Lord, she’d even hissed nasty little things in his ear, private things, about how she’d been masturbating thinking of him! And what’s worse, he’d said even nastier things. He’d called her a sexy little slut—and she’d actually loved it, the words only enhancing her orgasm to monstrous proportions, only to be dispatched after their shared, embarrassingly dirty confessions with a cold, “That will be all, Miss Divine”. As if fucking with him in the closet was merely part of her job!
But Lucy couldn’t quit her job now—what would she do? She’d come all the way to New York for this job, and she had no intention of returning to Oakland just yet, not after she’d studied so hard, and dreamed so long of coming to this city and making someone of herself. She merely had to make sure she didn’t exhibit this sort of unprofessional, totally uncharacteristic behavior with her boss anymore—no matter how much a temptation he posed. But how could she even bear to look at him after what they’d done yesterday?
And how stupid could she be to sabotage all her career plans for a few hot, sizzling, steamy minutes in the closet with her boss? It left her wondering.
Inside the venerable department store Bergdorf Goodman, Lucy decided to shove him off her brain at least for a few minutes and instead poured her heart into finding the perfect clothes for Mrs. Holden, who had announced this morning, “Divine, dear, we’re going shopping. Patrick told me I could buy whatever I want, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow orders.”
As if her life depended on it, Lucy rummaged through a tall sales rack positioned discreetly behind several mannequin displays. “Let’s see what we can find here,” she said with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.
Mrs. Holden remained a good few feet away from her, looking flustered and furious. “Divine, get out of there, you’re embarrassing me,” she hissed. “I’m not buying anything if it’s not in the couture section—at full price! I won’t be seen in rags.”
Lucy figured it was best not to argue with a nouveau riche woman on a mission, and instead followed her to the couture section and dutifully eyed the beautiful clothing. “What about this?” Lucy asked, withdrawing a classic tweed Chanel ensemble and holding it up for Mrs. Holden’s review.
She eyed it critically, turned the tag, looked at the price and said, “I like it. But you know? You can’t even tell it’s a ten-thousand-dollar Chanel. If I’m paying ten thousand dollars, I want people to know I spent ten thousand dollars.”
“Maybe you should just leave the price tag on, Mrs. Holden.” She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them.
Mrs. Holden, however, didn’t seem bothered. “Wouldn’t that be a little cheap?” She tapped the side of her lips with one finger as she considered the possibility. “But you know, that’s not entirely a bad idea. I could just pretend it was an accident and be properly embarrassed when someone notices.” Her lips widened with a smile. “I think you’re starting to grow on me, Divine.”
“Mrs. Holden, I was just—”
“Shush! And please, call me Irene.”
Carrying the ten thousand pounds of clothes Irene purchased in one single afternoon could have propelled Lucy into worldwide weightlifting stardom. The woman didn’t even notice that Lucy was tired, hobbling along the hallways behind her with unflattering beads of sweat speckled on her forehead. All Irene focused on was scouring the stores in search of the most expensive outfits, all of which, in order to pass muster, had to scream their maker’s label loud and clear so that every living soul would be sure to notice.
When looking for handbags, Lucy found an extremely fashionable soft leather Balenciaga bag at Saks Fifth Avenue’s perfectly stocked handbag section. Irene said it looked like somebody had already worn it plenty, the appalled expression on her face clearly expressing her feelings about that, before she gasped delightedly and lifted a huge, quilted Chanel tote. The bag was black with the signature CCs in a soft pink hue interconnected at the center. “Now this is me. Class all the way,” the woman beamed. She hugged it to her chest, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she said, “Mine.”
After her brief bonding session with the handbag, Irene regarded Lucy with a solemn look. “That old one looks quite nice on you, though.”
“It’s distressed on purpose, Irene,” Lucy explained with a wan smile, holding the beautiful ink-blue-colored bag at eye level. “It’s meant to look used.”
“Something for the life of me I’ll never understand.” She spread out her hand, wi
ggling her fingers. “Bring that over dear, let’s buy it.”
“Oh no, Irene, I couldn’t.” Lucy took a step and carefully set the Balenciaga bag on its wooden display shelf.
Irene immediately snatched it up. “Come on, Divine. My son will never know. Besides, you’re sleeping with him aren’t you?”