TODAY, WE ARE DELIGHTED TO WELCOME OUR GUEST AUTHOR, PEBBLES LACASSE, WHO IS SHARING A TEASER FROM HER SHORT STORY, "TELL ME TO STOP" #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat ***WARNING*** ADULT CONTENT
- 8 hours ago
- 8 min read
TELL ME TO STOP
A short story with a teaser included
BLURB:
Stuck in an elevator with my obsession, the last thing I want him to say is, “Tell me to stop.”
His seductive kiss and expert touch warrant forgiveness for his trickery, but will his proposal to master me in submission push me too far?
TEASER:
It’s only Wednesday, and I’ve already had enough of this week. As a paralegal, I’m always taking work home, and tonight will be no different. This won’t be the first time I’ll fall asleep among papers strewn about my bed with an empty wineglass on my nightstand.
I walk through the cubicles balancing files atop the satchel dangling from my shoulder and dread my lack of a personal life. It’s been years since I had a smidgeon of a social life outside of my career. Even then it was nothing to write novels about. At twenty-six, I should be partying and enjoying life not working myself ragged.
The elevator gradually sinks from the twentieth floor with painfully annoying stops aimed to move stale-faced people from one floor to the next. Like drones, there are no smiles or greetings, just drawn faces.
The doors part for the fourth time, and my jaw clenches as I stare at the lit number ten, willing it to sail cleanly to the basement. Each shift of the elevator threatens to topple the pile of balanced files against my small breasts. My purse and overstuffed satchel weigh down my shoulder, forcing me to compensate by leaning too close to a man who could use some deodorant. At this rate, I may not make it to my car with stomach and files intact.
Maybe I should’ve stayed late to get this work done, but it’s never ending whether I remain go home. I could just say fuck it and stop working at five o’clock like most of my coworkers, but it’s not who I am. Call me compulsive, but once I start something I have to see its completion.
The silver doors slide open with a quiet female voice announcing that we’ve arrived on the seventh floor. Two overly chatty people exit leaving me alone, which could mean a smooth sail to the basement.
`Just as the doors are about to close, an arm dressed in a navy-blue suit jacket juts through the slot and the doors retreat.
Dammit!
I’m about to growl under my breath when my attractive boss’s boss strolls in as if he has all the time in the world. I suppose being the CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation means handing down tasks one prefers not to perform, thus allotting plenty of time to lazily stroll about.
Good for him, but others—like myself—don’t wish to doddle. Sure, I’ve fantasized about bouncing on him like a pogo stick, but elevator quickies stem from writers. They aren’t reality.
A blend of leather and musk cologne seduces my nostrils, and I can’t help but breathe him in.
The 6’4” man commands every room he enters, including this tiny tin box. His shoulders square to the closing doors before he notices me off to his right. It’s subtle, but his eyelids narrow as they drink in my white silk blouse, burgundy pin skirt, and matching suit jacket. I’m well-aware my skirt and blouse bear the wrinkles of a long day sat in an office chair, but I’m too burnt out to care.
Mr. Grant has been the source of many erotic dreams, and they’re exhausting. Because of him I have tiny purple pillows taking up residence beneath my eyes, and I drag a virtual saggy, weighted ass along the floor with each step despite my tiny frame. But the memories of those dreams make it all worthwhile.
The sexy man is often the topic of discussions near the watercooler because he's perfection in a well-fitted suit: tall and thick like a gym rat, with short black hair styled as if a professional follows him around with a comb at the ready.
The few times we’ve met eyes, I had to look away. If I had stared too long into his black orbs, would he peer into my soul and hear my thoughts?
He watches me fuss to dig my phone from my purse to start my car remotely. The winter’s bone-chilling temperatures are something I’d rather avoid.
His hands ease into the pockets of his dress pants as his chin lifts ever so slightly. His voice is low and husky. “Hello, Lauren.”
A thousand people work in the building, and he knows my name?
“Hello, Mr. Gra—” My case load slides from my arm just as I yank my phone free. In trying to grab the folders, I fling my phone against the mirrored elevator wall. A loud crack proves either my phone or the mirrored wall broke, maybe both. But the paperwork ends up strewn across the elevator floor, halting against his shiny black shoe.
Oh, my God! Way to make a good impression on your boss’s boss, Lauren!
My purse and satchel slide off my arm and hit the floor when I drop to my knees. As quickly as possible, I reach for each manilla folder and tuck papers back inside them. Damn my decision to carry them loosely against my chest. I look like a jackass on my knees in front of my sinfully handsome boss.
With a voice so deep my body rattles, he says, “Let me help you.”
He crouches in front of me, stacks three folders on his palm, and lifts them toward me. We’re so near a potent waft of his masculine cologne dances through my senses. My nostrils defy me by snorting in a deep breath as if I’m an addict and he is my vice. Is it the cologne or our approximation that has my head spinning?
I cough hoping to mask an unintentional whimper that rides my exhale.
My pussy clenches, reminding me she’s sexually frustrated. But this man carries himself all business. He’d have no interest in someone beneath his station, like me. So, don’t make a fool of yourself by flirting!
How long has it been since I had a man between my legs? Three years? Not since Reggie split, leaving me with two months back rent, an empty bank account, and a mountain of debt. Fucking Reggie!
His sharp tone annunciates every word. “Why do you have so many files? Are you a company spy?”
I wince as all the blood drains from my face. “What? No! I—I’m not a spy. This is—I didn’t finish, so I—I have to take things home to—”
Oh, my God! Stop talking you babbling buffoon!
With a disarming crooked grin, he whispers, “That was a joke.”
Blood creeps up to flood my cheeks. My face dips to hide my embarrassment as I slip my phone into my purse and sigh with relief it isn’t. broken. Thankfully, the mirror is intact as well.
I set the pile of folders he rescued on top of the ones balancing on my forearm and pin them to my chest before I nod and twitch my lips into a smile.
My stare follows his smooth movements as he rises to stand tall.
His groin is so close to my face it’d be easy to unzip his pants to release what hides behind the bulge of grey fabric and live out a fantasy that’s haunted so many of my dreams.
The bulge bewilders me: Is he aroused or very well-endowed? Just how big is that thing?
Stop fucking looking!
My lashes flutter as I hug the files tighter to my breast. “I’m not a spy. I try to keep up to the workload, but there’s always more to do, and I’m only one person.” My breathy laugh stops me from complaining about how my boss is a hard-ass who overloads me.
Thick fingers extend from a sizeable palm down to me when I shuffle on my knees to maintain my balance.
“Let me carry your files.” He insists, but I shake my head.
“No, no. I have them.”
Disregarding my stubbornness, the gentleman in him grips under my bicep and lifts me effortlessly to my feet. Fully upright, the top of my head is level with his shoulder. He releases me, and I tug to move the straps to my purse and satchel to stop them from digging my bra strap deeper into my shoulder.
My face tilts away shyly as I tuck a stray lock of auburn hair behind my ear. “Thank you.”
His reputation as a man of few words proves invalid as his smooth as silk baritone voice demands my attention. “You work on the twentieth floor, right?”
He visits our floor almost daily but rushes past the cubicles on his way to meetings in the conference room or my boss’s office. It’s rare to not see him face down in his phone as he strides past us.
“You know where I work?” I grimace when I notice him gazing down at my cleavage. Awkward!
He takes a slow, deep breath as his hands imprison themselves in his pants pockets. “You’re always so deep into your work you rarely look up to see who’s watching you.”
Watching me?
The air grows hellishly hot when his tongue pokes free to moisten his lips. My chest to my face ignites in flames—at least, that’s what it feels like.
What I wouldn’t give to have those full, masculine lips encircling my clitoris while his tongue teases and caresses beneath its hood.
For the love of God, Lauren!
“I j—just work a lot. My job is demanding and—and sometimes it’s—a lot.” I take a step back and level my face to his chest. Why do I feel like a high school nerd cornered by the quarterback?
I stiffen when Mr. Grant closes the space between us. His forefinger brushes along my cheek as it captures that same stubborn lock of hair and tenderly tucks it behind my ear. The heat from his finger, despite not having touched my skin, radiates directly to my nipples.
His voice hums in a sedate whisper as I drown in his mesmerizing stare. “If you can pull yourself away from your desk tomorrow, come up to my office.”
Still under his spell, my voice is weak. “Go up to— Why?”
His whisper is gruff as his face tilts lower to mine. “Why not? I’d like to get to know you better, Lauren.” …
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RELEASING 27TH MARCH 2026
Exclusively on Amazon $0.99 USD & FREE on KU.
BOOK LINKS:
Books2Read – https://books2read.com/TellMeToStop
Amazon - USA - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GPXZTL8C
Canada - https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0GPXZTL8C
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AUTHOR BIO:
I’m an International Best-Selling author of BDSM erotica, and rose high in Suspense Erotica, Erotica, and Mystery Erotica Romance, etc.. Also, several of my personally designed covers have won awards. I have also written thrillers and sci-fi fantasy novels under a different pseudonym.
Experiencing human connection and how precious that can be, no matter the genre, is my goal. Being loved, truly loved, is what we all hope for, and that’s why my stories end with a happily ever after.
Between the characters’ typical everyday life and the tender moments shared between them, sizzling sexual encounters burn up the pages. BDSM grows their connections into unwavering, heart-to-heart connections when trust and communication are built.
When not authoring, I’m a mother of a mastiff, cats, chickens, and two well-adjusted, productive adults. I’m also the wife of a very patient man. After 35+ years together, we’ve only grown stronger. He’s my best friend, truly.
Typically, I’m a fairly happy-go-lucky person. I have my moments where I’m as dull as an old penny, but we won’t talk about that because today is a great day for new experiences.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Goodreads http://bit.ly/Goodreads_2y5xJji
Newsletter Subscribe – https://bit.ly/pebbleskinkynews
Bookfunnel book list - https://books.bookfunnel.com/PebblesLacasseBooks
Linktree - https://linktr.ee/pebbleslacasse
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COMING SOON: On Sunday, 5th April, we are delighted to welcome back our guest author, Robin Leeman Donovan, who is sharing Chapter 6 of her novel, 'Is It Still Murder Even If She Was A Bitch?'
