Beverly Hills Confessional Read online

  "Just a simple yes or no, Ms. Rockford."

  "Oh...oh, I'm so sorry. Yes! One hundred percent yes!" I cried, a little too excitedly for Miss Chalmers, judging from the arched eyebrow raised for my benefit.

  "Good. Here's your access card that will allow you to reach the seventh floor. You may leave now. Mr. Cavanaugh is expecting you."

  "Right now?" I asked, still bewildered by this sudden turn of events.

  "Yes, Ms. Rockford, right now," she glared. "Unless, of course, you have something more important to do."

  "Yes, right...I mean, no, of course not...thank you," I sputtered idiotically as I stumbled towards the door with my handbag, clutching my access card.

  "One last thing," she called out just before I'd left the room. "I took a risk in putting you forward for this role, and Mr. Cavanaugh is known for being very...demanding. Don't let me down."

  * * *

  8

  I dived into the ladies room to make some last minute touch-ups. I looked in the mirror and cursed. Damn it, why couldn't I have been psychic and known this was going to happen so I could have made sure I looked my very best before I left this morning!

  I did the best I could then raced nervously to the elevators and up to the seventh floor. When the door opened I was met with silence. There were two corridors of offices either side of me, and in front of me a large, imposing oak door. In the center of it was a brass plate with B. Cavanaugh engraved on it. My heart was bursting inside my chest. I knocked gently.

  No response.

  I knocked again.

  Still nothing.

  I stood there waiting for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. Finally I decided I'd enter anyway, even without word from inside. After all, I was supposed to be there.

  I quietly opened the door and stepped inside. I found myself in a small office which opened up to a larger one behind it. And inside of that one...there he was, standing by the window with his back to me, talking on the phone. He was dressed casually in a pair of broken-in chinos and a blue plaid flannel shirt, looking as achingly sexy as ever, even from behind. Maybe even especially from behind, as I noticed he had a perfectly rounded bubble butt that filled his pants like a work of art. I stared at it, imagining what it would feel like to squeeze and caress it. My heart was pounding more than ever now, a combination of nerves and desire.

  After a few moments I cleared my throat, hoping to get his attention. It worked. He turned around, smiled, and quickly ended his conversation.

  "I'm Alyssa Rockford, Mr. Cavanaugh - your new assistant."

  "Yes, I know. Please take a seat, Alyssa," he said in his deep, warm sexy voice as he gestured towards the chair in front of his massive desk.

  "I did knock but there was no response," I said nervously, hoping I hadn't got off on the wrong foot from the very beginning.

  He walked back from the window and stood in front of his desk. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was on the phone and didn't hear you."

  "I hope you didn't mind me just barging in like that."

  "Not at all. You took the initiative. Now, if you'd stood out there for half the afternoon waiting to hear something from inside, I wouldn't have been too impressed."

  "No," I said, with a self-conscious smile. I then inadvertently found my eyes wandering down to his crotch, a bulge still very noticeable even in chinos. I quickly looked away but had the distinct feeling he'd already noticed where I'd been looking. His next comment seemed to confirm it.

  "Do you find me attractive, Alyssa?"

  I blushed. "I...No...Well, I mean...I..."

  "It's okay, there's no wrong answer. It's fine either way. But if we're going to be working closely together we need to establish some ground rules. So...do you?"

  "Well...Yes, I...I would consider you an attractive man."

  "Good. I'm glad you think so. And I appreciate your honesty," he said, moving around the desk and leaning up against it, right beside me. "And I find you attractive, too. But in order to function as a working team, we'll have to be able to separate our attractions from our business interactions. And that's going to take discipline."

  I nodded in agreement, my pulse racing at having this man I'd fantasized over so many times at such close proximity. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from wandering over to his crotch again, which was now just inches away from me. But I restrained myself. He'd asked for discipline and I was determined to show him I had it.

  What he did next, though, made it hard to believe my eyes.

  Moving his hands to the top of his pants, he slowly unzipped his fly all the way down, before placing his hands back on the desk. He stared at me, saying nothing, those sleepy blue sexy eyes boring into mine. I held his gaze, not having a clue what would happen next.

  "Give me your hand," he commanded. I placed my hand in his and he slid it inside his pants, wrapping my fingers around the hard bulge of his cock that strained beneath his briefs. He then slid my hand down to the softer bulge of his balls and rubbed it against them for some time. Pulling my hand back up, he again wrapped my fingers around the warm, hard girth of his cock and pulled his hand out.

  My head was spinning, my heart was pounding and my body ached at the touch of his rock hard erection that continued to strain beneath the restriction of his briefs. I wanted so badly to rub and caress it, but I stopped myself. He hadn't instructed me to, and he was clearly calling the shots. Discipline!

  "My briefs have a fly front. Slide your fingers forward inside of the fly opening until you touch skin."

  I did as he asked. I slid my fingers into the fly and curled them around the cotton that covered his throbbing cock until I felt the real thing. It was hot to the touch and desperate to be free. I heard myself let out an involuntary moan.

  "How does it feel?"

  "Hard, hot, smooth," I said breathlessly, moving my free hand between my legs to give myself a little relief.

  He reached across and began to caress my breasts, lightly rubbing his fingertips around my nipples in circles before gently touching their erect tips, causing my whole body to shudder with ecstasy.

  "Do you like how my cock feels?"

  "I do," I groaned.

  "Do you want to feel more of it?"

  "I do, God, yes!" I cried. I immediately pulled my fingers from his fly and reached up and grabbed the waistband of his briefs to release the restless beast inside. Wrong move. He swiftly grabbed hold of my hand before I could and tugged it back out from his pants.

  "Discipline, Alyssa," he reprimanded, almost in a fatherly way as he zipped up his fly and walked back to the window.

  "Yes, I'm...I'm sorry."

  Damn it! I'd let him down. I'd allowed myself to get carried away. But it was all so hot and amazingly kinky, I just couldn't help myself. I wanted more, but I couldn't have it. I was undisciplined. In Mr. Cavanaugh's world, taking the initiative was good when it came to business, apparently, but in other areas...not so much.

  "Thank you, Alyssa, I think that's all for today. I'll see you back here in the morning," he said, his back facing me.

  Why so cold all of a sudden? Was he embarrassed about what he'd just done? Was my grab inside his pants really such a big deal? I thought it was all sexy fun. Maybe not exactly professional or businesslike behavior, but we're both consenting adults. I suddenly felt embarrassed and foolish myself. Perhaps all of this had been a test to see if I was a fine, upstanding young girl who would rebuff his advances in defense of her purity. If it was, I'd failed miserably.

  "Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh," I said, reaching down for my bag. "I'll see you in the morning." I looked back at the tall, powerful figure staring out of the window, his golden brown hair waving and curling in just the right places, his firm, solid waist, and that beautiful, perfectly shaped ass hugged tight by his pants...and sighed.

  * * *

  9

  That night I lay in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get my head around the wild chain of events that had gone down that day. I was now the personal
assistant to one of the hottest guys on the planet. This was also a man who could turn a nobody into something great and the great into something greater. Someone who probably created more wealth each year than many nations. Someone who could have anything he wanted. And he wanted me. At least...I think he did.

  I was still confused over how cold and distant he'd become after our encounter. Could he have been suddenly overcome by shame and regret at introducing me to his pal in his pants the way he did? I hoped not. I wasn't. Or was his need for discipline and my acting only upon his command so important to him that my grab at his briefs had been a total buzzkill? If that was the case, I'd have to do better at controlling myself the next time...assuming there would be a next time. No, there had to be. I wanted him. Whatever his motives, I wanted what he was offering. I wanted him inside me. I wanted his control.

  I began tossing and turning again, only this time my thoughts were only of Brett Cavanaugh's naked body bearing down on me, forcing himself inside of me, thrusting and pounding as I begged him not to stop...Oh God, make it real!

  * * *

  10

  The next day, and in fact for the following couple of weeks, our working relationship continued on in a completely normal, professional routine. I'd show up in the morning, he'd greet me with a warm smile and we'd go over some assignments he wanted me to work on that day. Some days he'd be out most of the day at offsite meetings, while others would be spent behind his desk on the phone. But whatever the circumstances, he always treated me with the utmost respect and courtesy. Despite being such a powerful figure, and having such a powerful figure, there was also something unmistakably kind about him. It was a strong, reassuring kindness that somehow made you feel very protected. And sometimes - just occasionally - there seemed to be something unmistakably sad about him.

  Looking at him now, it was hard to imagine that other side of him I'd experienced on that first day. In fact, as time went on, I began to wonder if "the incident" had even happened at all. It seemed so foreign to who and what he was now that I almost felt like I'd imagined it. Worse still, and much to my frustration, the way things were going it didn't look as though anything like that was likely to happen ever again.

  And then one day...

  * * *

  11

  It was my third week working directly for Mr. Cavanaugh, and I'd showed up to work that morning at the usual time. He was already in his office, chatting away on the phone, his feet up on his desk, as always.

  I'd had a particularly large workload that day, and the hours just flew by. As I was finishing up my final assignment for the day, I suddenly felt the presence of someone standing directly behind my chair.

  "You've had a busy day, Alyssa," he said in that too sexy for words voice of his. "You must be exhausted."

  "Oh, I'm fine really. Anyway, I'm almost done," I said, without turning around.

  "You seem tense. You should try to relax."

  "Really, I'm fine, I just--"

  Before I could finish my sentence he'd slipped one of his large, strong hands tightly over my mouth. Instinctively I tried to cry out, but my voice was stifled by his grip. I felt him lean down towards me, his warm breath tickling my ear.

  "Shhh."

  I nodded.

  "I'm going to help you relax. You need this. You deserve it," he whispered, before tilting my head back slightly and pushing his groin into the back of my neck. Keeping his hand clasped to my mouth, he ground his hard crotch into the nape of my neck again and again. It was the strangest feeling, yet incredibly hot in a way that's hard to describe. All I knew was that I didn't want this kinky crotch massage to stop. And just as I thought that, it did. I let out a sigh that was a mixture of arousal and disappointment.

  Just as I began to wonder if that was it, he suddenly spun me around in my chair to face him. With those drowsy, dreamy blue eyes staring down at me, he reached up to his belt buckle, unfastened it and removed his belt.

  "Hold out your hands."

  I obeyed.

  "Together. Hold them together."

  I did as he asked. He proceeded to bind my hands with the belt, wrapping it around and around them in a tight coil, twisting the end into a knot.

  "Just so we don't get carried away," he smiled, as he let my bound hands fall into my lap. He then unfastened his pants, unzipped, and let them fall to the floor. And there was that mouthwatering crotch of his, its impressive contents sheathed and contoured in a pair of white boxer briefs. He stepped in closer and grabbed the back of my head with his hands, pushing my face into the hard bulge in his briefs.

  "This is for you," he said in a voice even lower than usual, as he ran my mouth up and down along the firm contour of his confined cock.

  "Do you like it?"

  I moaned approval, my cry muffled by the hot, hard package he was rubbing against my face. Moments later he pulled my head back again and grabbed the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down and releasing his large, throbbing cock from its restraints. My pulse was racing. He stepped in closer, almost straddling the chair, his generous endowment standing to full attention right before my eyes. I ached inside with desire.

  "And this? Do you like this?" he growled.

  "Yes."

  He held back the shaft of his cock with one hand and pulled my face against his balls with the other, rubbing them against my face, against my eyes, my nose, my mouth.

  "Lick," he ordered.

  I obeyed. I ran my moist tongue around the soft skin of his balls, its clean but sweet and salty taste exciting me on a strange, animal, primeval level.

  "Open."

  I opened my mouth.

  He immediately forced his balls inside, filling it with those salty, earthy ovals of manhood. I ran my tongue around them as best I could, but they were big and movement was limited. Still, I could hear his breathing getting faster and heavier from the pleasure I was giving him.

  We stayed like this for several moments, his balls in my mouth, his free hand gently stroking my hair in a way that almost seemed affectionate. As strange as the situation was, it was also an unbelievable turn-on. Here was this ridiculously hot, handsome guy towering above me, a man of untold influence and power, filling my mouth with the very epicenter of that power. The source of his manhood.

  I ran my tongue around his balls several more times, then slid it up and out as far as I could reach and flicked it lightly around the base of his cock. He let out a helpless moan, then slowly pulled his balls from my mouth.

  I looked back up at those gorgeous eyes, no longer soft and gentle as before, but serious and focused. He stopped stroking my hair and grabbed it instead, tugging my head back with a painful wrench. I stopped myself from crying out.

  He held his cock in his fist and gently rubbed the head across my face, again over my eyes, my nose, my lips, under my chin. He then pulled it to one side and smacked me hard against the cheek with it, the sudden slap of skin on skin stinging my face. He slapped it across my other cheek with equal force. The sting of the slaps hurt, but the power and mastery of his cock made me shudder with yearning. I wanted to tame it, to please it.

  "Now," he cried.

  He didn't need to say more. Instinctively my tongue ran along the smooth skin of his rock hard erection, lingering playfully at the tip of the head. I heard him groan. I licked my lips and opened wide, awaiting his next move. His breathing now rapid and heavy, he placed his hands behind my head and pushed his pulsing, hard cock into my waiting mouth. The feel of it inside of me sent my heart rate off the charts. I sucked it in as deep as I could, the thick, full head hitting the back of my throat.

  He thrust it forward again and again as I sucked harder and harder, his hips moving in rhythm with my mouth. I felt something stirring deep inside of me. I wanted to touch myself so badly but I couldn't. He began thrusting harder still. The head of his cock felt bigger. I knew he was close.

  His heavy panting soon turned to grunting. Then a cry. Then he jerked his cock out from m
y mouth just as a shower of come splattered across my face, one hand still holding my head still as the warm, thick liquid ejaculated over me. It felt dirty...bad...and incredibly hot.

  When at last he was completely spent, he pulled his briefs and pants back up and untied the belt from my wrists. He pulled out a bunch of tissues from the box on my desk and began gently wiping his handiwork from my face. It seemed an odd thing to do, but I was glad that he did it. It was a strange kind of caring.

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I let it go too far. I was the undisciplined one this time." He spoke with an almost childlike sense of disappointment.

  Aha! At least he's now acknowledging there actually was a first time.

  "Forgive me?"

  Now, at this point I was faced with a choice. I could have expressed lots of righteous indignation at being treated like some sort of sex object; someone whose employer seemed to think he could use and abuse at will without fear of recrimination. Or I could be honest and tell him his sexual attentions turned me on like nothing else before, and if he wanted to fuck me right there and then, I was primed and ready.

  I decided to do the smart thing rather than the honest one.

  "I don't want to talk about it," I said, looking down at the floor, trying to appear humiliated.

  "Just say you forgive me."

  "Do you respect me?"

  "Yes."

  "I mean, truly respect me."

  "I do."

  "Then I forgive you."

  A small smile crept across his face and I felt glad. But although I didn't yet understand this odd sexual dance that he was playing with me, I knew enough to realize that part of him didn't want me to enjoy it. Or at least, to seem like I didn't. It would have spoiled it. A little coyness, I decided, could go a long way.