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NSFW Excerpt of WICKED © 2018 M. Malone and Nana Malone

Bailey

 

I smiled to myself as yet another text came through.

Hunter: Get your ass down here now

It was Friday night and the rest of the office had already knocked off to go down to Happy’s, the bar right down the street from our building. It was our favorite spot for happy hour, thanks to the cheap drinks and terrible music. I’d be right there with them if I hadn’t gotten so behind on my work today.

Or if my asshole boss hadn’t dumped project busy work on me just a few hours ago. I wasn’t even assigned to any of these projects specifically. Who did that? 

Hunter: Charles from Legal is on the bar dancing. I think he’s trying to twerk.

I snorted at the mental image of the older man trying to shake his ass. Our firm was a pretty conservative place and when I’d first started interning here, I’d been really intimidated. Everyone seemed so busy and professional, like they all had their shit together, while I was just trying to figure out what I wanted to do after college. But this was my second summer interning with the company and after a few Friday nights hanging out with the office crew, I’d discovered that even the most conservative types had a wild side. 

Not that I wanted to picture the nice older man who always helped me with legal questions trying to gyrate his nonexistent ass. I giggled at just the thought.

Hunter: Seriously, where the hell are you?

Fed up, I finally responded. Damn, he could be such a drama king sometimes.

Me: Trying to finish all this work Mr. D gave me at the last minute. I could finish faster if you’d stop texting me!

I returned to my computer screen and squinted at the small column of numbers. I sighed. Numbers weren’t my thing. I’d thought I was safe by majoring in marketing, but apparently even marketing majors needed to know how to adhere to a budget for their projects. My boss, Mr. Dent, didn’t really seem to understand the budget all that well himself, though. Probably why he’d dumped this on me at the last minute.

After making a few minor changes to the numbers I’d entered earlier, I saved the file to the project drive and printed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do. What the hell could he really expect at the last minute on a Friday? It was already eight o’clock, and no one else had stayed this late. If I was lucky, Mr. Dent had fallen asleep at his desk again, and I could just slide this into his inbox without having to interact with him. 

I hated having to talk to my creepy older boss, a man who still thought a comb over was preferable to just being bald, especially when there was no one else there to act as a buffer. It wasn’t any one thing he’d done that made me uncomfortable; there was just something about the way he looked at me. I shuddered as I gathered my things. He looked at me like he wished he could see through my clothes. I sighed, realizing his cringeworthy gazes were the only action I’d seen in months.

I walked down the hallway toward Mr. Dent’s corner office. My handbag thumped against my thigh as I walked awkwardly, trying to type a text to Hunter at the same time. Maybe if I hadn’t been distracted, I would have heard the noises before I got to the doorway.

“Oh yes, that’s it. Suck that dick.” 

I halted in the doorway, the hand that was holding my phone going up to cover my mouth. My brain was in such shock that I tried to cover my mouth and my eyes simultaneously, but I couldn’t block the grotesque image playing out right in front of me.

The light was off in the room but Mr. Dent had a large picture window right behind him and the late evening light was more than enough to illuminate what he was doing. He’d pushed his chair back from his desk and sat with his legs spread, creating more room for him as his meaty hand tugged at the short, stubby penis protruding from his pants. 

I clutched my phone tighter, my mouth opening and closing in shock. I knew I should probably move, but what if he saw me from the corner of his eye? So far, he hadn’t noticed me, and I definitely didn’t want to do anything to draw his attention.

“Oh fuck yeah. That’s it. Yes. Yes. Bailey!” He shouted my name and let out a long, agonizing groan. 

His hand moved so fast it was a blur, but there was no missing the stream of white that sprayed everywhere as he continued to groan out my name. 

My name.

Horrified, I backed out of the room slowly. Luckily, Mr. Dent still had his eyes squeezed closed as his hand continued to pump absently at his now deflated mini-sausage. There was an expression of complete and total satisfaction on his face. 

OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.

My heart was practically beating out of my chest as I trotted down the hallway, my phone still clutched in my hand. What the hell was that? Had he actually said my name? 

I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of revulsion swept through me. The elevator was right in front of me, but I was scared to hit the button. What if he heard me? Then I thought, Fuck it, and hit the button to call the elevator. If he hadn’t heard me running down the hallway, then I was probably safe. 

The entire walk over to Happy’s, I replayed the last five minutes. It felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. This was my boss! I had to go back to work on Monday and look him in the eye like nothing had happened! I almost gagged just thinking about all the times he’d come up behind me at my desk and put his hand on my shoulder. 

For the rest of eternity, I’d have a new image of exactly where his hands had been. Shudder.

Hunter texted me again. Without even reading his message, I typed back.

Me: I am traumatized. There better be a drink waiting for me when I get there.

Suddenly the phone in my hand rang. I answered with a shaky “Hello?”

“What the hell happened? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?” Hunter growled. 

I clutched my bag tighter as I sped up. The front door of the bar was now visible. “It’s so much worse than that. I’m almost there. And Hunter?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“I was serious about that drink. In fact, make it two.”

 

[Read more…]

Beg Me will be hitting ereaders in 2 days and I’m so thrilled to bring you the first excerpt! Our hero is dealing with a little problem… down below.

But luckily we all know the cure Hey, it happens to the best of us at times. Or so they say  😂 😂 😂

 

xoxo,

minx

 

★☆★ Preorder now ➜ minxmalone.com/begme

 

 

EXCERPT of Beg Me by M. Malone

©March 2018

 

Milo

“This is not happening again.”

The woman who propositioned me in the dark hallway outside the bathroom squints down at my still deflated package, which quite frankly is not a good feeling. What man wants a woman to have to squint to see what he’s working with?

Not me. And truthfully that’s never been an issue before. Some people are just blessed in the third leg department. I was lucky enough to be one of them.

But right now, she’s squinting. Hard. Like, searching for a needle in a haystack hard. What is she searching for you ask? Not my c8ck. That’s large and in charge and currently held snug in her tight grip. What she’s searching for is what my c8ck is supposed to be doing right now. That’s right. She’s searching for my hard-on. Which apparently fled the building as soon as she got me behind closed doors.

Humiliation mixes with panic and I take a deep breath. The last time this happened, it was the prior weekend on a date with a woman I met at the coffee shop. I’d paid for her mocha cappuccino and she’d responded by writing her number on the side of my cup. We’d gone to dinner at a new restaurant near her place and she’d invited me up so I could be her dessert. Which would have been the hottest thing ever if my dick hadn’t decided to take a nap as soon as she took her clothes off.

Time to focus. I direct all my energy and attention to the source of my current frustration. He’s never let me down before recently. All I have to do is figure out what’s blocking him from performing. I’m here with a beautiful woman who has her D cup breasts gloriously unrestrained and ready to pop out of her strappy little black dress at any moment. She’s ready, she’s willing and we’re alone. Perfect recipe for success.

But when I look down at the soldier in question. Nothing.

“F-cking hell,” I mutter in disbelief.

“It’s okay,” she assures me. Which is a nice thing to do since in her position I’d be pissed off. Then again she seems like a nice lady. What was her name again? Justine? Jasmine? Jessica?

“It happens to the best of us sometimes,” she continues. “You’re so f-cking hot, I figured I’d take my shot before you left. I heard your co-workers mention you’d be leaving soon.”

Under any other circumstances, the mention of my co-workers would be the ultimate buzzkill but not today. Because dirty thoughts about one of my co-workers in particular is to blame for why I’m standing in the middle of the women’s bathroom at a bar.

Mya Taylor. Rival ad executive, leading scorer in my wet dreams and titanium ball buster extraordinaire. A. K. A. the hottest woman I’ve ever met.

And she hates me.

My c8ck stirs at the thought of her which should give me hope but instead is just maddening. With dawning horror I realize that my suspicions are true. The same thing happened last weekend. I couldn’t get him up when I was with Brittany but as soon as I went home and saw a work related email from Mya, instant party in my pants. Clearly it’s not that my rooster won’t crow, but he’s suddenly developed a preference. For women with the ability to derail my career and also make me feel completely inadequate at the same time.

For Mya.

Oh no, I think down at the offending appendage. You do not get to react to the thought of that she-devil.

Not that he listens to me. When it comes to thoughts of Mya Taylor, my c8ck rarely listens to me. He’s violated the no-imagining-Mya rule everywhere from my shower to my dreams at night. Apparently this traitor doesn’t care about my future, my career or my sanity.

The door to the bathroom rattles and then crashes open. As if thoughts of her have summoned her directly to the source, Mya fills the doorway. Her eyes widen slightly when she takes in my naked ass pressed against the bathroom counter and the scantily clad brunette who still has my limp Judas in her hand.

Except he’s not limp anymore.

As my eyes take her in, every synapse in my brain fires in delight. Mya’s parents are from the Bahamas and she has the whole “I’m a radiant and sun-kissed goddess every f-cking day” thing going on. She tosses her long braid over her shoulder before glaring at me. It’s as thick as rope and jet black. The millions of bangles she always wears clack mockingly as she moves.

God d-mn the woman drives me insane.

But she also turns me on which is evidenced by the instant steel injection that takes me from limp noodle to solid baseball bat in less than 2.5 seconds.

“Look, it’s working!” Justine-Jasmine-Jessica squeals and punctuates the statement by bouncing up and down.

Mya looks between the D cups threatening to punch me in the face and my solid ten inches. Then she glances up at me.

“Seems I’m interrupting,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to do that.”

Her words echo even after the door swings shut behind her. And my dick deflates like all the wind beneath his wings just followed her out of the room. Because that’s the way he’s been operating lately. He only gets hard for the one woman who wounds my ego as if it’s second nature. And takes pleasure in doing it.

I know she seems nice but don’t let the sweet smile fool you. She’s evil and no doubt already thinking up some way to use this situation against me.

Then the door swings open and Mya pokes her head back in. “Miss? I’m sorry to interrupt again. What’s your name?”

“Jessica,” the brunette squeaks timidly.

Mya inclines her head to the woman still holding my dick as formally as if they were meeting at a business conference. “I thought so. Your boss is looking for you. But I can stall him another few minutes or so.” Her lips curl up into a wicked grin as her eyes slide over to mine. “I’m sure it won’t take much longer than that.”

Then she lets the door close again leaving the two of us alone with my rapidly softening dick and a whole hell of a lot of awkwardness.

Do you see what I mean now?

Pure. Evil.

 

★☆★ Preorder now ➜ minxmalone.com/begme