Pregnant By The CEO by Cassandra Dee

13

Pierce

The rest of the weekend passes in a haze. I drive out to the country to see my sister and her kids but I’m distracted the whole time. An hour doesn’t pass without thinking of Friday night and my tryst with Casey. Because oh shit, but it was fucking hot. The girl was so responsive and took my dick like a champ, even though it was clear that she’s inexperienced.

What the hell? How could I do that to someone so sweet and innocent? After all, I went to her place with every intention of giving her an earful. And instead, I ended up filling her full of jizz? Oh shit, things have gotten off track.

But I don’t regret a thing. Quite the contrary. Miss Henderson is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. Her figure alone is something out of my wildest dreams with her huge tits and generous behind. And she was so wet, not to mention I was able to go all the way in. That’s something in and of itself because a lot of women can’t handle my entire length. I’ve got to stop at seven inches, or even six or five, but with Casey? The little slut was able to take it all.

She’s fucking perfect.

I sit at my desk, staring into space. There’s a stack of documents waiting for my attention, but instead, I’m dreaming of wrapping my hands around Casey’s thick ass, firm in my hands. In my mind, I’m tracing my tongue from her sweet snatch to her generous belly and finally, up to the creamy smooth skin of her breasts. My memory rests on the pale pink of her nipples; the same color as the inside of a strawberry. I picture her wild espresso hair falling into her giant eyes and that slow, dreamy smile in the flickering candlelight as we lay, panting and humping away in her little bedroom.

My pants tighten. Fuck. This also keeps happening. Again, it’s a feeling I haven’t had since high school. Spontaneous erections at age forty-five? Is there something wrong with me?

But it’s clear there’s nothing wrong physically. The only thing wrong is the intensity of this obsession. But is that really wrong? Not if she’s feeling the same way...

There’s a succession of brief raps at my door. Goddamnit. I sigh and scooch my chair into my desk, willing myself to think about my stocks plummeting to try and un-pitch this tent.

“Come,” is my growl.

Mark, my assistant slinks inside and sits before my desk. He’s in his twenties and thin as a rail with big, hipster glasses and dark hair brushed smooth. A frown decorates his face, which is bizarre. The dude is usually remarkably cheerful.

“Yo,” I say with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up? Get into any trouble over the weekend?”

My assistant literally blushes. “My weekend was really nice, Mr. Lane. How was yours?”

“Very good, thanks. Do I have –”

“I’m sorry, sir,’ he says, twitching a bit. He’s never interrupted me before. Curious, I lean into my desk and watch him. Is he quitting?

“I need to confess something to you,” Mark stammers.

My heart sinks. Quitting wouldn’t be a confession. Quitting is just part and parcel of doing business. Shit. It must be something far more sinister.

I’ve heard stories like these. There are plenty of cases of long-term assistants who extort their bosses, embezzle all sorts of money, or even blackmail them. My senses are suddenly on high alert. This is the downside to being wealthy, I suppose. There will always be people trying to take advantage of you. But is Mark one of them? It seems impossible, given that the dude has been a straight arrow for as long as I’ve known him. I eye him warily.

“Go on,” I say in a calm voice.

“Erm, so, this is really hard to say,” he squeaks. His Adam’s apple jumps as he takes a big gulp. Again, I’m not sure what to expect here. Mark is not the most assertive guy. He’s twenty-six, if I recall correctly, and the dude’s a really sweet kid. Geeky as hell, of course. I don’t mean it as an insult, it really is just the best descriptor.

“Spit it out, buddy,” I tell him. “Just get it over with.”

My assistant steadies his breathing. He stares straight down at the floor and taps his foot nervously. I watch his Adam’s apple bobble up and down as he prepares himself to drop whatever bomb he’s got up his sleeve. He finally speaks.

“So, a couple weeks ago, remember how you sent me uptown to bring those flowers and the gift to a woman?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not this again. Is that bitch Maria up to no good? I’d bet on it. I inhale sharply and then let it out again, eyeing my assistant suspiciously. He does his best to avoid eye contact.

“Yes. I do. Of course I remember,” I grunt. “Why? Did she do something? Say something?”

Mark flinches and then gulps. The Adam's apple bobs almost crazily now as he stares at me, bug eyed.

“Just say it, my friend. I really haven’t got all day to talk about it. What do you need to tell me so badly?”

“Well, when I gave her the gifts, she was so crushed, sir,” he begins in a small voice.

“Okay,” I say, biting my tongue. “Is that all? So you came to inform me about her emotional state?”

“No, sir. It’s not that.”

What is he trying to say? I’m starting to get impatient, and I’m sure it shows on my face because the man begins babbling then, his cheeks turning red.

“I felt so bad, you know,” he starts, “It felt, I don’t know, wrong? No offense, Mr. Lane. I know you had your reasons for breaking up and I entirely understand.”

I stare at him, baffled. But my assistant continues, speaking fast as he finally gets the story out.

“I didn’t have the heart to just leave her like that, crying. So, I stayed for a bit. I made her a cup of tea and she pulled out these little powdered sugar cookie things, and they were so good and –”

I’m lost. Who cares? I stare at him, impatience dripping from me like a tropical rain. I raise an eyebrow and shrug.

“Come on, Mark. We don’t have all day.”

He stops and takes a deep breath. After a second, he removes his glasses and puts them on my desk.

“Anyway, the long and short of it is, we had a really nice afternoon together, and we got to talking about everything under the sun. You know how I studied in Argentina for six months when I was in college? Well, I told her that, and Maria wanted to hear me speak Spanish. She was laughing at me because Spain and Argentina pronounce some vowels completely differently and you know, she’s from Spain. Madrid to be precise. So we ended up breaking open a bottle of wine, and...I don’t know, Mr. Lane. Before I knew it, we’d been up all night talking in this amazing mixture of English and Spanish, just sharing ideas and really vibing, you know?”

His eyes are shining. By now, I know what he’s leading up to and my panic is gone. In fact, I find it kind of funny. But Mark’s still babbling, nervous and somewhat incoherent.

“The truth is, we’ve seen each other every day since the day we met. Last night, I asked if Maria if she would be my girlfriend and she said yes! But I couldn’t feel comfortable with it until I spoke to you. Not after everything you’ve done for me, sir.”

He practically hangs his head now like a puppy expecting to be chastised. I merely roll my eyes and grin.

“Wow,” I tell him, “that was not what I was expecting to hear when you walked in.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asks in a timid voice, venturing a glance at my face.

“Angry? Not at all, Mark. I broke up with her, didn’t I? Maria’s fair game. So no, I’m not angry. I’m happy for you.”

His eyes go wide, but then he bolts up straight and laughs in surprise. “Really? Oh wow. Thank you, sir, thank you!”

There’s really nothing to thank me for. After all, he’s just lightened my load by about a million tons, but for now, this is enough.

“I have to make a phone call, Mark,” I lie, “but I’ll call you in around lunchtime.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Lane,” he burbles, tapping his glasses smartly. “I’ll get a head start on those investor emails.”

“Thanks, buddy. And congratulations. About Maria, I mean.”

He flushes and almost skips out of my office. I give him a short nod as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Maria already has a new boyfriend? And it’s my twenty-six-year old assistant Mark? It’s hysterical, thinking about my geeky hipster-ish PA with that wasp of a woman, but hey, opposites attract right?

Besides, this is great news. If she’s already getting cozy with Mark, that means she probably didn’t really like me that much in the first place. The woman was definitely more upset about the blow to her pride than anything else.

Plus, this is a suitable ending to my tiff with Casey. I can’t wait to tell our intrepid reporter about the development because now she’ll see that I never meant to hurt anybody … and that she and I are free to begin our romance with a clean slate.