Madison
His presence was intoxicating. Alexander's cologne wrapped around me, lingering like dark spices and something earthy. My pulse quickened as he leaned in, our faces just inches apart.
"You're here," he murmured. "Mr. Knight, what's going on?" My voice trembled. I placed a hand on his chest, meaning to push him back, but all I felt was the chiseled muscles under his shirt. He took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine and pressing it back against the wall. The heat from his touch was electric, coursing straight to my core. My breathing turned shallow, and my heart thudded in my ears. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "You're really here." He whispered huskily. His gaze swept my face, lingering on my lips as his breath warmed my cheek. "Are you... okay?" I stammered. His pupils seemed larger than normal, almost swallowing the blue of his irises. Something felt off. Was he on drugs? "I'm more than okay." He nuzzled against my neck, lips brushing my skin. "You're perfect." "I think you might need medical assistance—" He didn't let me finish. His mouth captured mine, and the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was fierce, desperate, and filled with a hunger that took my breath away. His free hand found my waist, pulling me against him. Hard. Unyielding. The sensible part of my brain screamed for me to push him away, to get help. But then his tongue parted my lips, and my knees went weak. I grabbed onto his shoulders to steady myself, my fingers digging into the fine fabric of his suit. His kiss grew more intense, leaving me scarcely able to think or breathe. As our tongues entwined, a moan escaped my lips—one I wouldn't have admitted to if questioned. My hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling the hard muscles flex beneath my touch. His grip on my waist tightened, lifting me effortlessly. Before I knew it, he maneuvered me backward, guiding me toward the bedroom. We stumbled, our lips never parting, until the back of my knees hit the king-sized bed. He gently pushed me onto the mattress, positioning himself above me. His eyes were wild, hungry. "Off," he growled, tugging at my blouse impatiently. I fumbled with the buttons, my fingers clumsy in their eagerness. Finally, I managed to undo the fabric and slip out of it, my breasts spilling out, my lacy bra doing little to contain them. His gaze darkened, and he yanked the bra cups down, exposing my hardened nipples to the cool air. He bent down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. I arched up, gasping as his teeth grazed me. His free hand roamed lower, slipping under the waistband of my pants. The moment he found my clit through the thin fabric of my panties, a sharp jolt shot through me. "Fuck," I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him to my chest. With one swift motion, he tugged my pants and panties down my legs. The cool air hit my wet pussy, making me shiver. His hands spread my thighs apart, his fingers slipping into my wet heat, pressing inside me. I cried out, hips bucking against his hand. "You're so fucking wet already," he muttered, almost to himself. "I could take you right here." Before I could respond, his fingers withdrew, leaving me aching. I watched, breathless, as he quickly moved to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He didn't bother removing his clothes, but his massive, rock-hard cock sprang free, and my eyes widened at the sight. He climbed between my legs, positioning the head of his cock at my entrance, teasing me with its thickness. I squirmed, my body screaming for him to fill me. He thrust into me hard and fast, sheathing himself fully in one brutal stroke. The initial stretch had me seeing stars, but soon, pleasure overwhelmed everything. His cock filled me completely, hitting spots I didn't know existed. My nails dug into his back as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy crashing through me. His mouth crashed against mine in a desperate, bruising kiss. His hands gripped my hips hard as he pounded into me. Our bodies collided with slick sounds, mingling with our groans and panting breaths. "God, you're so tight," he growled, breath hot and ragged. "Feels fucking incredible." We moved together, our bodies entwined in a primal dance. I felt the pressure building, the peak of my orgasm just within reach. He angled his hips, and the change in depth brought him harder against my G-spot. I cried out, my entire body tensing. "I'm close, Alexander," I gasped, my nails raking down his back. My voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more frenzied. He thrust into me with a force that had me clutching at the sheets, trying to ground myself against the intense pleasure. "Yes, fuck, take it all," he groaned, his pace becoming erratic. "Come for me." His encouragement drove me over the edge. With a final scream, I shattered, my pussy clenching tight around his cock as waves of orgasm washed over me. I rode out the storm, body convulsing as he continued fucking me through it. It was then, just as my orgasm began to wane, that I heard him mutter, "Fuck, Katherine." I froze. My mind reeled. Katherine?! Who the hell was Katherine? But I couldn't dwell on it for long because he was still fucking me, his cock pistoning in and out with savage intensity. My overstimulated body responded despite my confusion, another climax already building. "Katherine, your pussy is so fucking tight." He drove into me one last time, spilling inside me with a guttural moan. His body trembled, his release triggering my own. Another orgasm rippled through me, leaving me breathless and shaking. As the haze of pleasure faded, reality sank in. Alexander had called another woman's name while fucking me. He didn't even know who I was. As he collapsed next to me on the bed, his breathing heavy, I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Who was Katherine? Did she work for him, too, or was she just one of his many conquests? The thought gnawed at me like a persistent itch I couldn't scratch. I slipped out from under his arm, my legs still trembling. Alexander's soft snores filled the bedroom as I gathered my scattered clothes. Of course, he'd pass out - typical man. At least he hadn't called me "baby" or some other generic pet name. No, he'd gone with "Katherine" instead. I stumbled to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection. My carefully straightened hair now resembled a bird's nest, and my lipstick... well, that was definitely not where lipstick should be. As I cleaned up, my mind wandered to the stack of NDAs in my desk drawer - all the women who'd crossed paths with Alexander Knight. "At least I didn't have to draft my own NDA," I muttered. Being Alexander's PA meant cleaning up his messes and arranging flowers and "sorry" gifts for the parade of models and socialites he left in his wake. But Katherine? That name wasn't in any of my files. I smoothed down my outfit and checked my phone - 10:27 PM. The doctor would still be awake. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Dr. Peterson's number. My thumb hovered over the call button as Alexander's snores echoed from the bedroom. "Dr. Peterson? Sorry to bother you so late." I kept my voice steady and professional. Like I hadn't just had mind-blowing sex with my boss. "It's Madison Harper, Mr. Knight's PA." "What's he done now?" Dr. Peterson sighed. "He seems altered. Dilated pupils, unusual behavior. I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent paperwork." The lie slipped out easily. Too easily. "Drugs?" "Possibly. He's sleeping now, but-" "I'll be there in twenty." "Thank you, Doctor." I ended the call and slipped my phone into my pocket. Back in the bedroom, Alexander sprawled across the unmade bed like a fallen Greek statue, suit wrinkled and pants still undone. "Right. Time to make you presentable." I surveyed the scene. The nightstand had shifted a foot to the left. A decorative vase teetered on the edge – how had we not broken that? I approached Alexander's sleeping form. "Don't you dare wake up," I muttered, reaching for his zipper. My fingers trembled as I worked quickly to tuck in his shirt and fasten his pants. The belt proved trickier – threading it through the loops while he was dead weight required some creative maneuvering. His head lolled to the side. "Mmm... Katherine..." I yanked the belt tight with more force than necessary. "Yeah, yeah. Katherine. Whoever she is." The doorbell rang. Shit. Dr. Peterson was early. I sprinted to straighten the nightstand, shoving it back into place. A quick scan of the room – nothing else seemed obviously disturbed. I grabbed a pillow and wedged it under Alexander's head, trying to make it look like he'd dozed off. Dr. Peterson strode in, medical bag in hand. "Evening, Ms. Harper." "Doctor. Thank you for coming so quickly." I gestured to Alexander. "I found him like this when I came to drop off some urgent documents." The doctor knelt beside the bed, checking Alexander's pulse. "Any idea what he might have taken?" "None. He seemed... not himself." Understatement of the century. "Dilated pupils, erratic behavior." Dr. Peterson lifted Alexander's eyelids, shining a small light. "Probably some party drug. Though it's unlike him to indulge alone." "Should I call security? His driver?" "No need. I'll stay until he comes around." He pulled out a blood pressure cuff. "You should head home, Ms. Harper. I've got it from here." I nodded, gathering my purse. "Of course. Thank you again." I hurried to the elevator, my reflection in the metal doors nearly composed except for my swollen lips and flushed cheeks. The night air slapped my face as I hailed a cab, needing to get home and think. "Where to?" the driver asked. "Anywhere but here." I caught his concerned look in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. 42nd and 8th, please." As the city lights blurred past, I wondered how I'd face Alexander tomorrow. Would he remember? And more importantly – who the hell was Katherine?MadisonThe driver opened the door, and Alexander stepped out first, then extended his hand to help me. I hesitated before taking it, trying to ignore the warmth that spread up my arm at his touch. Outside, the air smelled of river water and damp earth. A salt-and-pepper-haired man in a suit approached from a parked SUV, accompanied by a younger woman clutching a portfolio. "Mr. Knight," the man called, extending his hand. "Sam Donovan. We spoke on the phone." "Mr. Donovan." Alexander shook his hand firmly. "This is Madison Harper, my project manager." "Ms. Harper." Donovan shook my hand. "This is Jessica Wells, my associate." Jessica nodded, her eyes darting between Alexander and me with barely concealed curiosity. "Shall we begin the tour?" Donovan gestured toward the complex. "We can start with the main building." As we walked, Donovan launched into a detailed history of the property. It had been a textile factory in the early 1900s, then converted to various industrial uses
MadisonMy phone buzzed with a text. Reflexively, my heart jumped. Alexander? But it was just Jackson. Jackson: Thanks again for dinner. Next time, my treat for real. I smiled and typed back. Me: Deal. And thanks for being understanding about my work schedule. Jackson: What are friends for? Besides, I'm just as bad. We can be workaholics together. The idea was oddly comforting. Maybe that was what I needed. Someone who understood my dedication to work without judging it. Someone who wasn't paying my mother's medical bills or making my heart race with a single glance. Me: Goodnight, Jackson Jackson: Goodnight, Madison. Don't stay up all night with spreadsheets. I laughed out loud, earning a curious glance from the cab driver in the rearview mirror. The apartment was quiet; Mom must have already gone to bed. I kicked off my shoes by the door and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. A note on the counter caught my attention: Had a wonderful dinner with Mrs. Miller. Don'
MadisonI took a large sip of wine, buying time. "I don't pay attention to gossip." "Smart. Though it must be interesting, seeing the reality behind the public image." "It has its moments," I said vaguely, desperately wanting to change the subject. "How about you? How's the new job going? Last time we met, you were just starting at Mercer Financial." Jackson brightened, setting down his fork. "It's actually going really well. Better than I expected. The team is solid, and they've already put me on some interesting projects." "That's great to hear." I was genuinely happy for him. "Settling in okay?" "Yeah, took some adjusting after London, but New York feels like home again." He twirled the last bite of pasta. "The commute is brutal, though. Might need to move closer to the financial district." "The eternal New York dilemma: location versus rent." "Exactly. Speaking of which, how'd you score that apartment? The location is incredible." "Got lucky with timing. Right place, right
MadisonShe led me to a cozy corner table partially secluded by a decorative wine rack. It was perfect for conversation without shouting over the dinner crowd. I settled in, declining a glass of wine until Jackson arrived. While waiting, I checked my phone, a habit I couldn't seem to break. No messages from Alexander. Not that I expected any. Our workday had ended without incident, just the usual professional exchanges about the Riverside property we'd be visiting tomorrow. I set my phone face-down on the table, forcing myself to break the habit of checking for messages from Alexander. The waitress approached and offered me another glass of water. "Still waiting?" she asked sympathetically. "Yes, he should be here any minute," I replied, checking my watch. Jackson was now twelve minutes late. Maybe this dinner had been a mistake after all. I drummed my fingers against the table, contemplating whether to call him or just order an appetizer. After another few minutes of waiting, I
MadisonThe afternoon dragged on with back-to-back meetings about the project. By five o'clock, my eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets, and my coffee cup had been empty for hours. "I need caffeine," I muttered to myself, stretching in my chair. I headed to the cafeteria, grateful for the chance to move my legs. The space was nearly empty this late in the day. The coffee machine hummed as I pressed the button for a plain black coffee. While waiting, I scrolled through emails on my phone, deleting the unimportant ones. Coffee in hand, I made my way back to the executive floor, taking the long route to clear my head. The project was progressing well, but Alexander's birthday party still loomed in my mind. The blue dress hanging in my closet felt like a statement waiting to be made. When I returned to my desk outside Alexander's office, he was standing there reviewing some documents. "Ms. Harper," he said without looking up. "Just the person I needed to see." "Mr. Knight," I r
MadisonTuesday morning's bright sunlight slashed through the half-open blinds of my apartment as I finished the last sip of coffee. I was already running through the day's schedule in my head. I glanced at my new blue dress hanging on my closet door, the price tag still attached. What had I been thinking? I adjusted my black pencil skirt and smoothed my cream blouse before grabbing my laptop bag. The Manhattan Project files were organized in perfect, color-coded folders, my favorite part of being a project manager. Organization kept me sane, especially when other parts of my life felt wildly out of control. Like my feelings for my boss. Or ex-arrangement partner. Or whatever Alexander was to me now. When I arrived, the executive floor was quiet. I set my things at my desk and checked emails before preparing Alexander's morning coffee. His office door was closed. I knocked twice, balancing the coffee cup in one hand. "Come in." Alexander sat behind his massive desk, his suit ja