Chapter Text
“What do you say, Elizabeth? Gonna give me your number so I can fuck you somewhere that is not my place of employment?”
He shuffles them inside the storage closet and immediately bites her neck, expecting the outraged puff of air that leaves her luscious lips in response. It’s easy to hide his laughter in the hollow of her throat so she won’t complain he’s mocking her, easy to kiss her over and over until her skin flushes under his attention.
He nibbles on her skin, delighted to have her body near again.
“Easy!”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, uninspired, mourning the fact he doesn’t get to sink his teeth into her soft skin any longer.
She closes the door he didn’t realize he left gaping wide, too pleased to have Elizabeth in his arms again, and moves to lean against it. Looks him up and down as he stands frozen in his spot, unsure of what she wants him to do next.
If there’s one thing he’s learned from fucking Elizabeth on the regular, it’s that patience truly is a virtue. Not just a virtue—it is the gift all gods demand, is it not? Not in the least the Venus he’s gotten himself tangled up with.
Waiting her out usually leaves her demanding something in that bored tone, the one that almost fully masks her excitement underneath.
He wonders if she ever tires of that—covering just how eager she is for him as he is for her.
Still. Can’t help but like the game they play. Eager to go above and beyond to please her, the reward bringing such, such thorough satisfaction. Watching her fall apart above him, underneath him, on top of him—there’s no better incentive.
She rarely tells him when she’ll show up again. Just gives him one of those satisfied, blissed-out smiles, pats his cheek, and tells him he did good and that she’ll be back. Occasionally, she’ll throw him a bone—whisper a husky “see you tomorrow night” in his ear—but usually, he’s left hoping all, knowing nothing.
Meaning, he’s been hanging around after work a lot lately. Suddenly knows a lot more about the personal lives of his employees. Even met Tyler’s boyfriend when he was lingering near the back entrance last week.
Elizabeth makes a sound, beckoning his full attention. Purses her lips, eyes focused on his mouth. He lets his tongue peek out from in between his teeth, watches as her baby blues turn heated.
“I think you should kneel,” she instructs, voice calm and deceptively quiet.
He drops to his knees. Watches as she takes a step closer, works a hand to the fly of her jeans, slowly revealing the soft skin of her thighs, her bare cunt.
Shit, she’s not even wearing any panties.
“Lick my pussy,” she orders, already directing his face to her crotch. He obeys without hesitation, relieved she’s not making this any more difficult than he anticipated. Revels in the bossiness of her demeanor. Lets her shove him close, closer, before dipping his tongue inside of her cunt without a qualm.
“Like that,” Elizabeth sighs above him, fingers digging into his skull.
He laps at her clit, sucks lightly until she purrs. Feels his cock stiffen at the sound.
He could lose himself inside this pussy. Would spend a good amount of time here on the daily if she let him. Which—she might. It’s not the first time this week he’s on his knees for her, after all.
It doesn’t take long before her pleased but reserved sighs turn into drawn-out moans.
“Like that?” he asks, missing the sound of her voice.
“Shut up.”
He smiles against her cunt.
“Your wish is my command.”
The frustrated sigh above him spurs him on, reminding him how much she hates his preference for having the last word, making him fuck her pussy with his tongue until her legs tremble and her mewls grow loud—too loud.
Still. He wouldn’t dare suggest she keep it down.
No real need for it, either. Perks of being the boss and all.
Although—is he really? Kneeling on the floor of a storage closet, nose buried in her curls, gripping her thighs with his hands to help her keep her balance?
“Make me cum,” she pants.
Okay, so, she’s the boss.
Her exasperation with him and her demanding tone do nothing but fuel his craving for her orgasm. He wants her boneless in his arms after. Wants her mellow enough not to snap at him when he inevitably tries to give her a hickey someplace visible. Wants her pleased with him, proud. So he lets her ride his face until she’s cumming, and he’s painfully hard and dearly regretting his choice of legwear.
He leans back. Rests, looking up at her. Waits for her instructions.
She’s still panting from her orgasm, meeting his eyes with determination.
“Again.”
He smiles. Dives in again, surely committed to her desires.
Wonders how many times they’re gonna do this before she breaks and asks for his name.
A small knock on his door disturbs him going over next month’s schedule.
“Come in,” he says, assuming Ursula is here to ask about those extra shifts he promised her. Instead, Elizabeth’s head peeks inside.
“Is this a bad time?”
He shakes his head in silence, leaning back in his chair. Watches her closely as she steps into his office, revealing a particularly tight skirt and crème-colored blouse, nearly translucent on her skin.
He moves his chair back a little, spreading his legs. Lets his eyes go half-lidded.
“Come sit,” he croons.
To his surprise, she takes the invitation right away. Comes sit in his lap. Leans in for a kiss. Another. Starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“What do you want,” he asks between kisses, letting her undress him and lick and bite at his chest, before guiding her face back to his to press his lips against hers.
“I want you to fuck me,” she sighs into his mouth. “And then I want you to lick me clean.”
He closes his eyes, briefly—the sultry tone to her wishes too overwhelming.
She takes off her blouse, opens her beige front clasp bra and offers her tits up to him.
“Suck them,” she instructs unabashedly.
He obliges immediately, licking each nipple before sucking one in his mouth. She buries her nails in his neck in response.
“So good for me,” she purrs.
He loves it when she tells him how to fuck her. Pressing a small hand to his chest, making him pause, moving them around until she’s satisfied.
“Like this,” she’ll tell him, not shy about her directions, not shy about making it good for her, understanding what it does to him—but that’s an afterthought. Her pleasure takes precedence for them both.
It relaxes him, knowing he’s being good for her, knowing she’s pleased with him. Would rather spend hours on his knees for her, basking in the knowledge he’s making her feel good, than try and impress anybody else.
Sucking hickeys all over her chest, he grunts when she sinks down on him.
“Shit,” he chokes out.
“Oh. Yeah. I got myself ready,” she states, trying to appear casual, but he watches a flush make itself known on her face.
He curses, gazing up at her. Watches her tilt her head up, as if daring him to say something about it. Moves his hands to grab her hips, where her skirt is pushed up. Squeezes when she starts moving, her tight heat enveloping him.
“Did you think about this?”
He gets his mouth on her nipple again. Starts sucking while waiting for her answer.
“Did you think about me, when you were getting yourself ready for me? Making your way over here?”
She groans softly when he moves a thumb to her clit, clenching around him.
“Maybe,” she admits. He fucks up into her, eyes not wavering from hers.
Sex with Elizabeth is unrestrained—the heady surrender of her body a place he wants to lose himself, find himself, ignite some way. It makes him plead for more without bashfulness.
It doesn’t take long before she’s pulsing around him with her orgasm, whole body trembling the way he loves—makes him suckle on her lobe, hiss in her ear as he snaps his hips with rapid movements.
He keeps at it, sucking and licking at the skin of her neck, distracted by how she purrs in his ear, whispering about how she prepared herself thinking about him.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she admits, voice a delicious kind of low.
He groans, watching her face with his eyes blinking slowly, taking in every miniscule movement as she squeezes around his cock and lets her mouth gape, watching him watch her.
He loves looking at her. Appreciates how she’s trying to lure him to his orgasm just by her heated expression.
It’s when she tilts her head back, pushing her tits closer to his face, and just looks at him with that hungry focus and confident demand, doesn’t even need to say the words, that he buries his face in her chest and loses his rhythm, cumming inside of her pussy.
“Shit, Elizabeth,” he cusses as she rubs a hand over his shoulder.
She coos at him while he catches his breath, rubbing his beard all over her until she laughs, chest all red, sinking her nails in his neck to drag him backwards.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“Oh, you think, huh?” he asks, lazily dragging his eyes over her face.
“Mm-mm.”
“Nah. I’m never gonna get enough of you.”
She takes the God’s honest truth in stride, shy smile bursting into something appreciative. He leans back. Peers at the satisfaction clambering onto her features. Lets himself revel in the feeling of pleasing her.
She makes him lick her pussy clean as instructed, but it’s light, languid, the moment stretching out as they bathe in her pleasure. She laughs at one point, a surprised sound. It has him burying a matching smile in her cunt.
Yeah, he’s never gonna get enough.
“So what’s it gonna take for you to give me your number?” he asks one night while he’s got his face between her thighs as she’s spread out on the backseat of his car.
“Hmm, I don’t know. I like the way we do things now,” she replies, voice soft and high.
“Don’t you want me to meet you places? Must be inconvenient, always having to drive out here.”
He licks her wet folds, dipping his tongue inside her cunt. Fuck, she’s so wet for him.
She just gives a soft sigh—it’s more of a giddy sound, but he hears the message. Knows she’d rather he focus on the task at hand.
Or. Mouth.
“We could go to a hotel,” he murmurs a little while later, after she’s finished, kissing her hipbone.
“Hmm.”
“Or to my place,” he adds in a rush, immediately moving his mouth back onto her pussy.
“Oh!” she cries, legs flailing.
He lets them both enjoy him fucking into her cunt with his tongue, before sucking on her clit. Lets himself revel in the increasing volume of her wails as he licks her pussy. Feels his cock stir whenever she gets vocal.
He loves her little kitten noises, the eagerness in the sounds she doesn’t bother trying to muffle. There’s something particularly alluring to her brazenness. Her completely sincere wantonness and refusal to do anything but buckle to it. No shame to be found in Elizabeth’s body once he’s got her naked, or at least somewhere on that particularly lustful track. She’s all bold need and clear commands, so unlike her demeanor outside the bathroom, janitor’s closet, office, car.
It doesn’t take long before she’s cumming again, all the attention he’s giving to her sensitive clit bursting into ecstasy.
“You want to have sex at your place?” she asks after she’s come down from her high, eyes roving his face, zeroing in on his beard, slick with her wetness.
“Well, yeah. I want you everywhere, all the time,” he admits, kissing her neck. “Maybe a bed sometime.”
She sighs, moving her head so he has more space to work with—space he readily uses to kiss his way around her throat—, a hand patting his head in what he assumes is supposed to be a calming gesture.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what this is,” she says after a moment.
He looks up.
“And a bed will do that?”
She rolls her eyes.
“You know what I mean. It would get messy.”
“Would it?” he wonders out loud, sucking on the skin below her ear.
“Yes,” she responds, resoluteness in her voice.
He doesn’t bring it up again for another month.
Next time he’s reminded of her refusal, it’s already a solid hour past closing time. His shoulders are tense—the greedy minx making him wait far too long for his liking, the day already weighing on him in too pressing ways.
It’s dark in the alley ‘round back. Cold, too. He should’ve waited inside instead of being on the look-out for Elizabeth’s form.
Still. He stays. He waits, recalling the throaty way she told him she’d be back tonight. The way she leaned in for a parting kiss, the way she let him deepen it. Knows she’s worth every minute of bracing the cold, knows she’ll be in his embrace soon enough to warm his body up.
By the time the sound of heels on the pavement meets his ears, he’s pent-up enough to lift her up and fuck her into the wall right away, his mind set on getting her legs wrapped around him as soon as possible—until he sees her.
“What, you got a date or something?” he asks as soon as he clocks the heels, the dress, the jewelry.
The way she doesn’t meet his eyes, instead ducking to kiss his neck, makes him realize—
Huh. She is.
He works his jaw. Can’t believe she feels the need to drive her point home this hard—he heard her.
I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what this is.
Yeah, well—loud and clear.
And because he can’t bear the silence that’s slowly teetering into awkward territory, no matter how sweet the kisses she’s pressing into his neck, or the way her trembling hands cling to his shoulders—which, fuck, he likes her kissing all over him—
“Lucky guy. Or—”
Shit, he knows better than to assume. He does pay attention to his sister sometimes.
“Guy,” she confirms, not showing any interest in sharing details beyond that.
She pulls away from kissing his throat, her eyes big and hesitant, like she just realized she’s revealing the want she has for him that she usually hides behind a layer of pretense by flipping the script and kissing him first. The desire on her face strikes suddenly tentative.
She takes a step back.
He moves in closer. Hums.
“You look real pretty, darlin’,” he whispers in her ear, because the least he can give her is that.
Figures, between her somewhat nervous demeanor and Annie’s yammering about Elizabeth’s divorce, it might be the first date she’s had in a while. He has no intention of making her feel self-conscious about it, no matter how annoyed he is that she felt the need to remind him he doesn’t get to have her in any significant way.
Besides, there’s no point denying it. She looks gorgeous. The dress—some slick thing, leaving her calves bare, a deep emerald color—brings out the shape of her body, her lips a kissable red, her hair in a careful updo, making him realize he’s never seen her with her hair out her face like this.
He takes a moment to watch her face, letting his eyes track over her cupid’s bow, the shimmering silver on her eyelids, zeroing in on her baby blues.
“Kiss me.”
He’s moving in before she finishes talking, taking pleasure in how quickly she tongues inside his mouth.
She sighs softly—some barely-there sound, like her day was as exhausting as his, like she finds the same relief in kissing him as he does—and he swallows the sound with dedication.
Somewhere he registers that her hands are moving to his belt, but he’s too distracted by the feeling of her lips on his, the smell of her, the surprising lack of haste to their movements.
It’s when she gets a hand on his dick that he finally pulls away, laughing softly when he sees the hint of a smile on her face. Starts kissing her throat and slowly moving his hands to her back to find her zipper.
Her small hands move to meet his, taking over the task and exposing her chest to him. He takes the opportunity to kiss the swell of her breasts, hazily realizing he probably shouldn’t give her any hickeys, lest he wants her to feel disappointed with him.
Kissing her chest with languid movements—like they’re in a bed somewhere instead of a cold alley where one of his employees could probably walk in on them any minute, like she isn’t gonna leave him ten minutes from now to go on a date—he lets himself enjoy the soft feeling of her body.
“Please just—” she stutters, impatient, blush furious—and he can’t tell if it’s frustration or the uncharacteristic nerves shimmering below the surface or something else altogether—and moving her hands to his groin again.
So he lifts his face from her chest, lifts her up, feeling her wrap her legs around him without missing a beat, and pushes her into the wall.
“Please just what?” he asks, moving a hand to her panties.
She groans.
“I think I like you begging,” he adds, whispering the words in her hair, teasing her clit.
To his surprise, she kisses him, sweetly, instead of telling him to shut up.
With two fingers in her slick pussy, his tongue inside her mouth, swallowing her moans, he’s not sure he’s ready to speed this up. Kinda likes making her fall apart like this.
Still, he’s aware they’re on a schedule. Distantly likes the fact that she’s using him to get her ready for her date, despite it pissing him off in equal measure. Wonders if she’s gonna let him near her pussy.
“Please,” she repeats, voice small, mouth by his ear, nails eagerly sinking into his neck.
With that, he takes his fingers out of her cunt and replaces them with the head of his cock.
“You want it?” he can’t help but ask.
“Yes,” she breathes, and fuck, he loves having her like this. Loves that she’s not playing her want for him off as boredom, the way she sometimes does. Loves that she clearly wants to be here, with him, right now, despite her plans for the rest of her night.
He slowly fucks into her, giving her a little bit more of him with each thrust.
He wants to take it slow tonight. Her mood seems to be forgiving enough for him to try and take his time, despite the setting.
He moves his face closer to kiss all over the soft skin of her chest, getting his hot mouth on one of her nipples.
Sinking into her while rubbing his beard into her neck, he starts telling her all about how good she feels, how he’s been thinking about getting inside of her all day. Hands moving all over her body while he discovers the truth to his words, his breath uneven as he assesses within himself just how much he wants her. All the time. He wants her.
It doesn't take long before he feels his orgasm approaching, despite his intentions, way too fucking pent up and slightly dazed at the sight of her all dolled up and nervous, and she seems to be doing no better, if her hitched breaths and little whimpers are anything to go by.
For a second, he can imagine it so clearly—picking her up to take her out to dinner, her in a pretty dress, nervous for their date. Kissing her at the door, wrapping a hand around her thigh while he drives. Getting her to laugh, or open up to him. Teasing her. Drawing it out.
“Please cum inside me,” she sobs, interrupting his musing—which—shit, she wants him to—
His hips stutter, his head thrown back, his eyes fluttering closed, the thought of Elizabeth going on a date with his cum leaking out of her pussy making him moan deliriously as he fills her up.
“Fuck, Elizabeth,” he grunts as he feels her squeeze around his cock, milking him further, listening to her wail through her orgasm.
“Yes,” she hisses, clinging to him, her legs wound tight around him.
He rests his forehead in the crook of her neck. This woman is gonna be the death of him.
“You tryin’ to kill me?”
She laughs breathlessly, clutching his shoulders as he pulls out, lowering her feet to the ground.
“No. Why would I sabotage myself like that?”
He smiles. Kisses her cheek. Watches as she adjusts her dress, eyes drifting to the end of the alley, parking lot in sight.
Right. No reason to stick around now.
He tucks himself back into his jeans, irritation flaring at her seeming need to immediately replace him for better company—except her lip wobbles, brows scrunching up, eyes flittering about with unease.
“No need to be nervous, darlin’.”
He says it softly, voice low, mouth pressed against the shell of her ear. Her shoulders drop, eyes moving to his with a delicate hint of insecurity.
“No?”
He kisses her. Can’t help but.
“No. Have fun on your date, Elizabeth.”
The shy smile she sends him in response stays with him as he drives home.
“Excuse me, are you the manager?”
Rio turns around to meet the eyes of some thin blonde.
“Hi, I’m Amber,” she says, blinking at him.
He tilts a brow. Waits a beat. Nothing happens.
Well. The blonde lets her eyes linger. But that’s nothing new.
“And?”
“And I was hoping you could point me to the restroom,” she blurts out.
“Employees only,” he replies, eyes on his clipboard. Wonders if he should call Rosalina now or wait ‘til after the delivery, just in case. Figures he should text Rhea he’ll swing by later to pick up Marcus’ soccer equipment, since he forgot his cleats.
“Oh. Well. I was hoping I could go somewhere private.”
He grunts.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me why?”
“Why would I? You said private.” He shrugs. “’Sides, I can’t help you. This is a grocery store. There are no private rooms available."
Other than the ones he fucks Elizabeth in.
Amber frowns, opening her mouth to speak, when surprise takes hold of her features, transforming her pout to something more genuine.
“Mrs. Boland!”
He looks behind him, finding a rigid-looking Elizabeth staring at the pair of them.
“Ms. Marks,” she corrects, face blank.
“Oh, finally,” Amber replies.
“You two know each other?”
“Yes,” is all Elizabeth responds, voice ice cold. He senses her eagerness to get out of here—feels a shudder of excitement coursing through him at the thought of how he can get her to relax.
But when they’ve made their exit to his office, she immediately works at his fly, opens his jeans and pulls his cock out. Before he registers what’s happening, she’s on her knees with her mouth on his dick.
“Shit,” he curses, the wet feeling of her mouth making him close his eyes before snapping them open again to take in the view.
Elizabeth starts bobbing her head up and down his cock, eyes unwavering from his.
“Fuck,” he hisses when she swallows around him.
It’s too much, the sight of her on her knees, the piercing eyes taking in every twitch of his face, the small hands on his body—one wrapped around his thigh, the other wrapped around his dick, the part that doesn’t fit inside her mouth—, her lips wrapped around him, sucking eagerly.
It doesn’t take long before he grunts out a head’s up, knowing full well he’s about to blow, when she takes her mouth off his dick, keeps stroking him with that small, delicate hand, and tells him, voice broken:
“Cum on my face.”
He obliges, groaning as ropes of cum land on her face, in her hair, while she strokes him through his orgasm.
“Shit, Elizabeth,” he pants, unable to look away.
Cradling her face in his hands, he tries to pull her closer to him. She gets off the floor, wraps her arms around his shoulders and lets him tongue inside her mouth.
“So I’m not allowed to talk to other women, huh?” he asks, smiling.
“You’re allowed to talk to other women. Just not her.”
Her features are closed-off, shoulders tight, looking serious despite the streaks of cum still decorating her face.
“Right.” He pauses. “There some kinda reason for that?”
She stiffens.
“Fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
He grabs her hips.
“Hey now. I didn’t say I minded.”
Matter of fact, jealousy looks good on her.
She won’t meet his eyes. He gives her a quick kiss nonetheless.
“I won’t talk to her again.”
It takes three weeks for her to show up again.
Rio prides himself on his control. Knows how to keep a level head, even when things get hectic at work, like that time the store got robbed. He’s satisfied with the way his days are set up. Sure, work gets mind-numbingly tedious at times, but there’s Marcus to think about.
He loves spending time with his son. Loves watching this tiny human’s personality unfold before him, loves hearing his thoughts on the noise bees make and what color his next pair of shoes should be, loves taking him to the park and watching him make friends wherever he goes.
Besides, he’s good at his job, tiresome as it may be. While his customer service leaves something to be desired, he’s got the management part down pat.
Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get distracted thinking about a certain redhead, though.
Lying in his bed at night, a hand stroking his dick, thinking about her—the way she mewls, the way she smells, the way she commands his attention again and again.
Not just in bed, either. He’ll be at work trying to figure out the schedule for the deliveries and get distracted thinking about Elizabeth with her mouth full of cock.
He wants her in his bed. Wants to have her for hours at a time, unhurried for a change. Wants to get her really, really fucked out. Show her how good he can make it for her.
Normally, he likes to think he keeps his head straight.
But shit, without any word from Elizabeth in weeks? He’s antsy.
His employees are starting to notice, too—JT giving him raised brows at his snappy orders, Tyler uncharacteristically keeping his mouth shut and doing his job instead of telling him about the guy he’s dating, Ursula nearly tripping over herself to hurry away after staff meetings, a surefire sign he’s crossed a line if there ever was one. Last thing he wants is to scare that girl, well aware that she’s got him on a pedestal of sorts.
Safe to say it’s good news for all of the Fine ‘n Frugal staff that he clocks her shapely form gracing the aisles when he’s making his rounds.
“Elizabeth,” he says, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting, or the slacking of his shoulders at the sight of her. Somewhere inside he understands that’s a sign of something or the other—but it’s easy to tell himself it’s the sex he’s been missing, especially with how particularly delectable she’s looking today, hair shiny, eyes bright, blouse unbuttoned far enough to give him a good peek at her tits.
“Hi,” she replies, light blush on her cheeks.
Fuck.
He jerks his head in the direction of his office, hoping it goes without saying just how badly he needs to get her naked right now, needs to see that blush track over her skin—no need to waste time on the dance.
He’s already walking towards his office when he feels a small hand on his elbow, squeezing him softly.
He turns around, meeting her eyes.
“What, you shy now or something?”
She looks away. He frowns.
“Come with me?”
His frown deepens. She sounds—there’s no command in her voice, only tentative wishing. Her eyes find his again, something hesitant in her look.
He rolls his shoulders. Knows he can’t just up and leave—technically, he’s still on the clock.
Although. Would it make that much of a difference?
Eyes roving over her face, registering the slight twitch to her mouth, the strained eyes, he settles on an answer.
Nodding in silence, he takes a step closer, watching as relief lets her features sit relaxed for a moment before she covers it up again, swiveling around to make her way to the exit with such determination to her step her earlier hints of doubt seem like a mirage, wholly inconceivable with the fierce woman in front of him now.
Curious as to where she’s taking him, he follows in silence, matching her fast pace—one that reminds him of the first time he laid eyes on her, as she barreled down aisle six with such furious purpose he couldn’t look away.
“You know, once you’ve squirted on someone’s face, there’s really nothing to be shy about,” he whispers in her ear, squeezing her hip as they leave the store together.
He sure thinks back fondly on that merry occasion, when he ate her out on the floor of his office, weathering her complaints about carpet burn with ease. Sure made it up to her by not removing his mouth from her pussy ‘til she came a third time. Relished in the feeling of her drenching his face, her mouth gaping, tears escaping the corners of her eyes. A vision like no other—all on the drab carpet of his office.
She elbows him in the stomach, laughter spilling from his lips in response.
Glad to see she’s ridding herself of some of that uncharacteristic insecurity, he plasters himself against her back as soon as they’re outside and somewhat out of view of his employees.
She drags him across the parking lot, seemingly setting for his G-wagon.
Stopping at the passenger seat, Elizabeth whips around, leaving their faces barely inches apart. She moves a hand to his neck and kisses him, briefly, firmly.
Pulling back, blue eyes alight, she tells him.
“Take me to your place.”
It might be his favorite command of hers yet.