Six Naughty Tales: A Collection of Short Stories Read online

  Six Naughty Tales

  A Collection of Short Stories

  Matilda Martel

  Copyright © 2018, 2019 by Matilda Martel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  The Arrangement

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Under Contract

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Conclusion

  Senator Sugar Daddy

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  The Accidental Groupie

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Conclusion

  Trio

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Conclusion

  The Aphrodite Design

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Conclusion

  Follow Me

  Sneak Preview of Park Avenue Courtesan

  The Arrangement

  Chapter 1

  This is a strange love story. I wish I could recount a more romantic tale of how I met the love of my life, but not everyone finds love the same way. Sometimes, love is right in front of you and you’ll do everything in your power to sabotage the thing you need most. Fortunately, love chased me down and refused to relent. If I had gotten my way, I would have missed out on the best thing that ever happened to me.

  The first steps that led me to the life I have now, started ten months ago, right after I finished my third year of college. That was the week after finals and the day I started interning for Astor, Rochester & Riley, a Marketing and PR firm here in Manhattan. My cousin, Michaela, was one of the unsung heroes in their media communications departments and she owed my father a favor for helping her little brother out in a similar situation. Michaela helped me get an interview with their CMO, George Astor. She didn’t get me the job. I got the job all on my own because George flirted with me and I made him laugh. That didn’t prevent her from behaving like she was personally paying my meager salary.

  “Listen, Alina, your manager is a woman named Patty Kendrick. Don’t piss her off or she’ll make your life miserable. I’m not putting my job on the line to help you out if you mess up.” She dropped me off at Patty’s office and took two steps before walking back to me. A very tall man was heading towards us and she appeared terrified to be in his path.

  “What’s the matter, why are you back?” I looked at her with curiosity.

  “That’s Devon Rochester, the CEO. Stay out of his way if you know what’s good for you. He’s the world’s biggest asshole. I’ve worked for him for four years and the prick still doesn’t know my fucking name.” She pulled me into an adjoining hallway and waited for him to pass.

  “He doesn’t look very scary.” He really didn’t.

  “Just stay out of his way and listen to Patty. I told your father I’d help you get this job, I never promised him I’d help you keep it.” She waved me off and went back to her office on the 21st floor, leaving me with Patty on the 22nd floor.

  Patty wasn’t so bad. Sure, she was a pain in the ass, but the entire Social Media department was made up of jerks so one more didn’t make a difference. Trying to make a good impression, I got to work on my assignment, forty pages of busy work that was meant to keep me out of their hair. By the time 3pm rolled around, I’d finished a week’s worth of research and they weren’t sure what on earth they were going to have me do for the remaining two hours and four days. Annoyed by my efficiency, which they feared would make them look bad, I was banished to the 24th floor- the Executive floor. There was a need for an assistant to the junior personal assistants to the executives and the hope was that I would fuck up fast enough to get fired by Mr. Rochester or one of his lackeys. I was too naïve to know any better, so off I went.

  Fortunately, it was the end of the day and the two junior personal assistants available to feed me instructions were desperate for help. They were so used to being shit on, they had no desire to shit on someone else. I ran across the street to pick up some dry cleaning and sent off three items through our courier service saving them time to help the main assistants finish up the day’s real schedule. By 6:30, I was alone at my cubby, updating the next day’s dry erase board for the girls and singing to myself while the cleaning service rushed about me emptying out the trash bins.

  “Is that Sinatra?” A deep voice startled me as I tried to hang the board back on the wall.

  “I’m sorry?” I jumped back in fear and looked behind me, dropping the board.

  “What you were singing—was that Sinatra?” It was Devon Rochester, the crazy CEO, although he didn’t seem so crazy now.

  “I believe its Irving Berlin.” I stared at him, wondering if my correction would make him angry but instead, his lip curled into a faint smile.

  Gazing at me with curiosity, he drew closer and took the board out of my hands. “Allow me.” He was at least a foot taller than my measly 5’3 and easily placed the board back on the wall without any help from my small foot stand.

  “Thank you, I appreciate your help.” I stepped back a few paces to make sure it was straight before reaching for my purse and bag.

  “Who are you? Are you one of my assistants? Why haven’t we met?” He took my bag, insisting on carrying it out.

  “I apologize, my name is Alina, Alina Atwood. I’m an intern. I was helping out in Social Media but when I finished my work, they sent me up here to help the junior assistants. I guess I’m a gopher.” I smiled timidly and shied away from his powerful glare, his striking blue eyes threatening to burn a hole in me.

  “An intern? Nice to meet you—I’m Devon Rochester.” He extended his hand and I took it, attempting a quick shake that he turned into a seductive grasp.

  “Yes, I know. Someone pointed you out earlier and told me to stay clear of you.” I smirked then realized what I’d done. “Sorry, that was rude.”

  “It’s deserved, but don’t let it ruin your impression of me.” He pushed the elevator button heading downstairs and I tried to reach for my bag.

  “Are you leaving for the day too?” I was only making small talk. As handsome as he was—tall, muscular, with dark hair and those stunning blue eyes--being around him was making me nervous.

  “Yes, I am. Would you join me for a drink?” He smiled sheepishly while we rode the car down.

  “I’m not old enough to drink but thank you for the offer.” I thought that would be the end of it, but he was intrigued.

  “Oh, how old are you?”

  “20. That’s why I’m interning. I’m in between semesters at NYU, I turn 21 next month.” I looked up at the numbers when the bell finally pinged and began walking out of the elevator. “It was nice meeting you Mr. Rochester.” I chuckled. “Mr. Rochester…you know, Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books--but I bet you get that a lot.”

  His grin looked positively wicked. “No, Miss Atwood, I don’t. There aren’t ma
ny people in this industry who are well versed in English literature. Come have a drink with me, you can drink something non-alcoholic.”

  I should have said no. A 20-year-old girl has no business having drinks with a 40-year-old man, even if he is hot and hung. Yes, I’ll get to that. It’s not like I had sex with him that first night, I just felt it through his pants—but I’m getting ahead of myself. We went for drinks and talked for hours. He told me he’d just gotten out of a horrible divorce, which contributed to the rotten mood he’d been in for the past few years. It was easier to have everyone at work think he was a huge asshole and keep their distance than to explain his perpetually moodiness over how badly his marriage had turned out.

  “How long were you married?” I asked as I sipped my third cranberry juice.

  “Almost 8 years, but we’ve been getting divorced for the last 2, so I think I only want to count 6.” He stared at me, appearing to have a question to ask.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?” I patted my cheeks, attempting to give him an out for his odd glare.

  “You have such pretty eyes. I rarely see green eyes and I don’t think I’ve ever seen any as pretty as yours.” He smiled and made me wonder if he was drunk.

  “Thank you, but I think one of your partners has green eyes. Should we get going? It’s getting late and I have to get into the office early tomorrow.” I checked my watch and stood.

  “Let me take you home, I mean drop you off. My car’s outside.” He presumptively took my hand and walked us out.

  “Mr. Rochester…” I tried to stop it, knowing full well I was already too turned on to be alone with him.

  “Call me Devon, Alina. Come on, I promise you. I’m harmless.” He whisked me into the back seat and pounced like a lion.

  Before I could get too far down the seat, Devon pulled me into his arms and crushed his lips against mine. There was a savage urgency to his kiss that immediately swarmed by senses and made my limbs feel weak. His tongue forced my mouth open, savoring my taste while his hands gripped my waist and brought me on to his lap. Disturbed by my feelings, I pressed my hands against his chest and pulled away from him slightly.

  “Devon, we shouldn’t. This is inappropriate.”

  “Is it? Do you want me to stop?” His lip grazed mine tenderly, licking and teasing them to respond.

  “Yes…no, but we shouldn’t. What would people say? This will look so bad.” I moaned unconvincingly as his mouth reclaimed mine with passionate kisses. Enveloping me in his arms, he smashed my breasts against his powerful chest and spread my legs to straddle his lap.

  “No one will say anything. No one has to know.” His mouth moved down my neck and I could feel his hot breath between each kiss. This felt so different than kissing boys. Devon was a man and everything he was doing, every kiss, every touch made me ache to be his. But I had to stop. This was insanity.

  “Devon, I don’t want to be some conquest for you. I’m not this kind of girl. I’ve given you the wrong impression and I’m sorry if I’ve allowed things to get out of hand.” I shimmied off of his lap.

  “I’m not exactly waiting until marriage, but I’m not interested in surrendering my virtue to a man twice my age in the backseat of a car. Please take me home.” Jesus, that took every ounce of energy I had. He was so fucking hot and appeared absolutely stunned by my admission.

  After he closed his gaping mouth, he fixed his tie and helped me pull my skirt back down. “I’m sorry, Alina. You’re right. Are you really a virgin?”

  “Stop looking at me like that!” I crossed my arms and looked out the window. “I’m not a kid, I just never met anyone I wanted to have sex with—I’m 20, it’s not that unusual. I was a late bloomer.”

  When we reached my building, I got down and tried to run in, feeling thoroughly humiliated, but he quickly caught up with me and apologized again.

  “I like you. You are far too young for me, but you know you have an old soul and you’re the first person in a long time that had the balls to correct me. If all that wasn’t enough, you’re fucking beautiful. I honestly wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight. I’d like to take you out on a real date. Will you give me your phone number?”

  He held the door open for me, but his imposing figure blocked me from entering.

  “You can easily get my number from my employment records.” I looked away, embarrassed.

  “No, that’s just creepy. I want you to give it to me.” The combination of his soulful blue eyes and his incredible cologne broke my resolve. Without further delay, I handed him my phone.

  “Here, text yourself. You’ll have my number.” He smiled and quickly entered his digits, before sending himself a long message. “Hey, what are you writing?”

  “You’ll see.” He laughed as he tossed my phone back in my bag. “It was lovely meeting you Alina. I will see you in the office tomorrow.” Pulling me towards him, he covered my mouth with his and almost dipped me down as we kissed. Goddamn, he was good. With my head still buzzing and my senses reeling with lust, I waved coquettishly and raced indoors. As I began undressing, I heard a text come in and finally discovered what he had sent himself from my phone.

  Devon Rochester, I want you so badly.

  I know, baby, I want you too.

  He was such an ass, but I had to laugh. Instead of replying with feigned outrage, I let him stew all night. By morning, he was hooked.

  Chapter 2

  Within sixteen hours of our impromptu night out, a special internship was created for me. Instead of working as an assistant for the junior assistants working under all the executives, I became a special assistant to Mr. Rochester, assisting his private secretary with all his meeting details and travel arrangements. I tried to protest, as did my former boss’s boss, Mr. Astor, but it was of no use, he was accustomed to having his way. He was not quite as fortunate when it came to his private life- specifically getting into my panties.

  That first week we went out to dinner twice but kept things very covert. For my part, I behaved very professionally in the office and never tried to lead on that there was anything going on between us. Unfortunately, he did not try as hard as me. People were starting to catch him staring at me with a goofy grin, which looked stranger when you took into account that he almost never smiled. But that was before things got down and dirty.

  We had just discussed taking things slower over dinner—it had been our main topic of conversation, I swear. After three weeks of heavy petting, things had been getting out of control. His excitement over being with his first virgin was leaving him in a state of perpetual horniness that was making me feel pressured to give in before I was totally ready. Apparently, I had been talking to myself, because as he kissed me goodnight, he asked if he could come in for a few minutes.

  “Devon, we talked about this.” I must have known where it was going, because I allowed him in, begrudgingly, but with a certain amount of anxious anticipation.

  Taking me into his arms, he lifted me off the floor and carried me off into my bedroom. Kissing me to silence my protests, he tossed me on my bed and locked my door behind him. “Baby, please, you’re killing me.”

  “I’m not trying to, I promise. We don’t have to see each other anymore.” I eyed his huge erection, the same one I’d been rubbing up against during our many make-out sessions and began salivating with desire. I was desperate for him, but I couldn’t give in so easily.

  “Yes, we do, I’m in love with you. I’m crazy about you.” He crawled on the bed, reached under my skirt and slid down my panties. I couldn’t believe I let him, but instead of arguing I simply watched him spread my thighs and dive face first into my crotch.

  “Devon! Jesus! You don’t love me. You shouldn’t say that. Oh God!” The second I felt his tongue slide down my wet slit, I abandoned all restraint and helped him undress me. I never professed to be a saint, just an inexperienced girl.

  “Baby, I need you. Give yourself to me.” He shed his clothes, his tie, his shir
t, and then his pants. I gasped. He was huge—maybe 9 inches. It was hard, thick and coming for me. Pushing me further up the mattress, he spread my legs wider and drove his tongue deep in my pussy, making me shudder and wail in a fit of ecstasy. He must have known I needed immediate distraction. If I was moaning and writhing, I couldn’t think too long and hard on the 9-inch monster waiting to destroy me. And he was right.

  Lifting me up and feeding with ravenous delight, he watched me scream and twist about, waiting for the perfect moment to seek out my clit. As he began stroking my hard nub with his tongue while he fingered me without mercy, I grabbed his hair and cried incoherent rants of profanity, begging him to stop then demanding that he keep going.

  “Cum for me Alina, you taste so good, give me more, baby.” He was sucking and teasing, strumming and feasting until I couldn’t stand to hold in the surge of electric ecstasy coursing through me. Overcome with wild adrenaline, I howled as I felt my hips rock savagely against his face taking the rest of my body into a fit of convulsions that could only be calmed when he climbed on top of me and began sliding his impossibly thick cock into my quivering pussy.

  “Devon! Wait…I’m not on the pill, you need to use something.” I knew I should have bought condoms—something like this was bound to happen.

  “I don’t have anything, I’ll pull out baby, I promise.” Holding my hands to the side, he looked into my eyes as his massive shaft stretched me open and slammed into my hymen, catching him by surprise.