Bark Bark Baby - Blog Posts
simon riley is simon fucking riley.
why would he need a secretary?
it was price's idea to put up the "help wanted" sign, even though simon never agreed to it. he was completely capable of going through life "assistantless", he had made it this far, hadn't he?
but the way you greeted him, placed your manicured hand out for him to envelop it with his, was something he wasn't prepared for in the slightest. simon found himself whispering your name to himself as he walked to lunch, stapled papers, shaving his face.
you were a phenomenon to him, a spiritual experience that he just didn't recognize yet. and even though he was slowly coming around to this whole thing, the truth was, he'd always be a bitter man.
"sir, I was placed here for your benefit. trust me when I say, whatever you ask of me, I will do-"
"I don't need your fuckin' help, y'hear me?" simon would respond with a bite, even though his words only encouraged your crush more.
and his eyes spoke words his mouth couldn't. they casually wandered down the length of your body, and he took it upon himself to memorize the sight of you. sitting, standing, bending over.
how could he not? the way your plump ass sat in that stupidly tight skirt, how the buttons lining your polo were just seconds away from flying across the room with the help of your black push up bra, it was just too much for him.
every single morning, without fail, you waltzed right into his office. his space, unsolicited. carrying your unnecessarily large purse and an iced coffee, your soft voice rang and bounced off the four walls, "good morning, sir."
you might as well just bow down to him while your at it, with all that sweet talk you give to simon, all the shy little nods and waves you bid him throughout the day, and he ate it right up.
"I finished the spreadsheets you asked me to compartmentalize. will that be all for today?" you'd say, leaning over his mahogany desk as your cleavage spills out of your top. simon was about to lose his cool.
"that'll be all, luv." he cooly spoke over his computer, trying to regain his composure.
it wasn't until a few days later, when you were struggling to put a stack of files on the top shelf, that simon's self control went out the window. he watched as you stood on your tiptoes, losing balance trying to place the items. and he couldn't help but come up behind you, placing a large palm on the small of your back to steady you.
a small gasp came from your throat at the gesture, "easy, luv, just me." he whispered back.
simon was so close, close enough to the point where you could study his face, watching his eyes squint at the effortless reach it took for him to stack the files.
the eye contact alone led your mind astray, and as his hand drifted away from your back to the fat of your hip, your eyes fluttered down to his lips, then neck, then shoulders.
that was all it took. what started as a something simon hated became something he lived for. the hand around your hip pulled you closer to him as the other cradled your face.
"tell me to stop." he whispered, nose rubbing against your own, causing your eyes to flutter shut.
you smiled at the outrageous thought.
"never."
simon's lips crashed against yours in an instant, a clash of teeth and tongue, slow licks and harsh nips were quickly causing your legs to give out beneath you.
he picked you up instantly, "mm, I gotcha,"
that's how you found yourself laid all pretty on his desk, legs up on his shoulders. the slight curve of his dick and veins you could feel with every nerve in your body only created shudders.
"mmhmm, mm, y-you don't hate me?"
you said, interrupting the lewd sounds of him slamming into you, the squelch of the two of you joining made you tighten around him.
"fuck, no. no, don't hate you, lovey,"
and of course, simon being the pussydrunk that he is would casually slip this in,
"love you, fucking love you."
୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆