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The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 4

Things take a few new turns between Emily and Clint
~ Clint ~

Alright, dancing with Emily may not have been the smartest idea I've ever had. I just got lost in the moment and wanted to keep her smiling and laughing, but now she's looking me with those glazed over, star struck eyes. I won't lie; holding her close like that was exciting in more ways than one, but things are getting too weird now. She's great; smart, beautiful, fun, but we can't have something between us – right? I mean I'm 32; just shy of double her age! There's no way we could cover a gap that large.

I'm just attracted to her because of the novelty of it all; having a teen living with me. I'm sexually frustrated, and knowing she is too is playing with my mind in perverted ways. I've never been attracted to younger women – girls – before. Damn, I need to get laid. Time to get this whole thing back on track before it gets any worse.

~ Emily ~

I think I'm falling for Clint. Well, I guess I have been since I set foot inside of his apartment, but there's no denying it now. I have never felt remotely close to this before. Emily Welder – doesn't sound half bad at all. He made the first move by playing that song, singing it to me, and dancing with me; now, it's my turn to be brave enough to let him know that I feel the same way. I'm so nervous though. Do I just walk up to him and kiss him? Maybe I should play a song to him? Sneak into his bed in the middle of the night?

I sit on the couch and channel surf without seeing the channels while he remains in the kitchen brewing some coffee. As soon as he comes to join me I'll move over to be close to him; I'll touch his hand, then get even closer, and soon we will be cuddled up together watching some show late into the night. He will touch me tentatively, growing bolder when I respond with quiet moans and touching of my own. Then clothes will slowly come off and he will appreciate my body as much as I do his.

My phone rings, bringing my small fantasy to an end. Of course it is Ashley calling. I almost hit the ignore button but she will just keep calling or sending texts until she hears from me and I would rather talk to her now instead of when Clint and I are busy with each other. I answer.

She immediately begins ranting something about Eric; I thought we were finished with this, but she's talking too fast to understand and it sounds like she's on the verge of tears. I cut her off and try to calm her down to figure out what's going on. Clint looks my direction, curious, but then turns his back to give me some privacy. I finally calm Ashley down enough to have a conversation with her.

“And I didn't have his number but I had his friend's, Jeffrey, so I called him – Jeffrey – and got Eric's number out of him. So I called him – Eric – but he didn't answer, but I knew it was his number because of the voice mail message thing, so I left a voice message and I can't remember everything I said but something like, 'it's Ashley, Emily's best friend. I got your number from Jeff, hope it's OK. I wanted to talk to you, call me back,' but I waited forever – that's when I sent you the homework text. And he still didn't call back...”

I tune Ashley out, not completely on purpose; Clint moving around the apartment is just more interesting to me. He goes into the hall and passes by the couch carrying a small laptop and charger. He doesn't look at me – probably still trying to give me privacy – and opens the doors to the balcony where he sets the laptop down on the small table there. He reenters the apartment, walks to the kitchen, picks up a mug of coffee, walks back to the balcony, and shuts the doors behind him.

“...because he's waiting for you!”

“What?!” How does Ashley know that Clint's waiting for me to make a move now?

“Eric... is... waiting... for... you!” Ashley says super slow and annoyingly.

“Why is he doing that?” I guess I should have been listening to her rant.

“O. M. G. Did you even hear anything I just said? Eric totally blew me off, like all rude too, because he said he was waiting for you!” She sniffs loudly.

OK, I'm on the same page now. So she's upset because she thought she could snag Eric now that I wasn't interested, but apparently Eric hasn't heard or seen Mr. Hotness here; he's waiting for nothing. Ashley is upset and hurt about the way Eric talked to her, but I really can't blame him; she's the type that only hears what she wants and sometimes it takes a few harsh words to get through to her. She wants to come over, cry to me about it, and pig out on ice cream; her usual routine for boy troubles. I tell her I can't meet her tonight, but will call her tomorrow. After I have to promise about a dozen times she finally lets me off the phone.

I pocket my phone then stand and make my way to the balcony where Clint is still busy on his laptop. I step outside then sink into the other chair that is out there. It's nice out, slightly cool, big clouds filling the sky. It's just starting to get dark; from this vantage point it will look beautiful as all the building lights of the city slowly start to become visible in the fading light; looking like a million stars that have fallen to earth to rest on the last strip of land before the blackness of the ocean. I feel Clint's eyes on me; it's now or never. I take a breath then turn to face him but he talks before I get a chance to tell him I like him.

“I'm really busy here, Emily.”

“Oh. Yeah, OK...” What?! Wasn't expecting that.

“Go back inside. I'll be done in a few hours.”

He turns his eyes back to his laptop and starts typing again. I sit in my chair unable to move or think. My chest tightens and I know I'm going to start with the water works again. What's his problem?! He stops typing and looks at me again; his eyes cold. I scramble to my feet, then rush through the doors and back into the apartment, my whole body trembling. I feel like I've just been slapped across the face.

The bathroom once again becomes my sanctuary as I cry uncontrollably. What the hell is going on? Why is he so mad at me? I've been wrong this whole time; he doesn't like me, he's just putting up with me for my dad. He's trying to make a bad situation liveable by being nice to me, but he really hates me and the fact that I'm here in his home.

It takes a long time to regain control of myself. I'm still shaking as I hurry out of the bathroom to grab my clothes from my bag in the living room. Clint is still outside; good, I hope he falls over the railing. Not I don't. I grab my clothes then go back to the bathroom to shower and let the hot water pour over me and sooth me. After my shower I return to the living room, grabbing my blanket and pillow from the hall closet as I go, then sit with my back to the balcony and try to ignore the presence of Clint.

It gets dark out. He still doesn't come back inside. I watch a movie from start to end, and he still hasn't come inside except twice to refill his coffee mug. Each time we both avoided looking at one another; my heart tearing apart in my chest when he walked back outside and the tears leaking out of my eyes. The crying and emotional roller coaster of the day take their toll on me. By 10:00 I'm fighting to keep my eyes open. By 10:30 I'm deep asleep.

When I wake up it's already past 9:00. My eyes feel swollen and the memories of last night come back in full force. I struggle to keep from crying again and instead go wash up and get dressed for the day. Clint's no where to be seen, his bedroom door's closed as usual. I storm past it and head to the kitchen for a drink. He's left a note on the fridge:

“Went for a run, be back later.”

I grab the note off the fridge, ball it up, and toss it on the floor. Being mad at him is a lot easier than feeling sorry for myself, and I should be mad; I deserve to be mad! That was so rude how he treated me last night. I decide I'm not going to just sit here locked up in his apartment all day and I call Ashley to tell her I'm on my way over to her house. I find the notepad Clint used to write his note and I rip a page off to write my own for him. I stick it to the fridge, grab my backpack, and slam the apartment door closed as I leave.

~ Clint ~

I finish my run then walk down to the beach. It's still early and the beach goers haven't made it down in full force yet so I have little trouble navigating the sandy terrain down towards the water. I sit on the sand, out of reach of the surf, and try to relax.

Last night was tough; I couldn't sleep and when I did manage to doze off Emily kept invading my dreams. I wasn't exactly tough on her last night, just cold. I know she was crying, but she will get over it in no time. I'm sure things will be strained between us for a while and the apartment will feel like a prison for a few days, but it's all for the best. As soon as she realizes she just has a little girl's crush on me and nothing more things will return to normal. In the meantime, I'll have to keep distance between us. When I get back I'll make up an excuse about needing to go to the office for the day; that will take care of the hours between now and dinner time. Then, I can pretend I have more work to do and escape to the balcony again until she's asleep.

A female jogger runs past me, interrupting my view of the ocean and my thoughts. She says good morning as she passes and flashes me a smile. She's around my age, tall, toned, dirty blonde hair. I check out her ass (very nice) as she passes. I get to my feet and start off after her; I just found a way to kill another hour or two and finally satisfy the sexual beast inside of me who is beating against his cage to be let out.

Bent over the arm of her couch she moans for more and I oblige. Thankfully the other end of the small love seat is pressed up against a wall otherwise I'm sure it would be scrapping across the flooring. She moans into a throw pillow as I fuck her hard and deep, her ass slapping against my thighs and pelvis. She's tight; really tight and soaking wet. I lean my head back with my eyes closed enjoying the feel of her pussy wrapped around me, squeezing and releasing my cock as I pound into her.

“Oh, don't stop. Right there. I'm so close, don't stop,” she begs.

And suddenly she's Emily. My eyes stay closed as I let it continue to be her. It's Emily I'm fucking. Emily's tight pussy that my cock is buried inside. Emily begging me to go harder. My balls tighten and I know I'm going to come very soon. I tell Emily this and she pleads with me to come inside of her. But now I'm mad. I'm pissed that she's in my thoughts, in my fantasies, and in my life. I'm angry that she can tell me what to do and I actually want to obey her. I'm mad that she won't get out of my head no matter what I do.

I open my eyes and Emily disappears. I sink my fingers deeper into the jogger's hips, pulling and pushing her ass against me. Her moans become screams as I fuck her, releasing all of my anger into every thrust. She reaches her hand back, trying to claw at my stomach as I continue my relentless attack on her. I grab her arm by the wrist and pin it to her lower back and continue. Her legs start to shake as she screams loudly in pleasure and shouts that she's coming; but I don't stop, I cant stop.

She lowers her ass, trying to escape my punishment and I haul her back up with my other hand under her hips. I close my eyes again and willingly picture Emily bent over the couch in my living room. I explode hard inside the jogger, groaning out nonsense as my balls continue to pump themselves dry. Exhausted, I lean over the jogger who is panting just as hard as I am. She turns her head, apparently for a kiss, but I dodge my head then stand and pull out of her.

I feel dirty for some reason and just want to get out of her house. I head for the bathroom, toss the condom in her trash, then splash water over my face and neck. I look at myself in the mirror, disgusted with who I see staring back at me. Why am I feeling like this? I've never felt like this before. I look into my own eyes, searching for the answer; it swims in front of me but remains out of reach. I leave the bathroom, return to the jogger's living room where she sits naked on the love seat. I mutter something about work then tug on my shorts and head for the door. She follows me, probably wanting me to commit to a future meeting, a date, a phone call; but I have a good head start on her and walk out of her house, closing the door behind me, before she can get two words in.

I leave Rebecca's house (or was it Robin?), walk to the next block and grab a cab back to my apartment. I reek of sweat and sex; mine and the jogger's. The cab driver seems to be driving extra slow; maybe he knows I'm in a hurry to get home and clean myself and is being an ass on purpose.

I check my phone; there's a few new messages that are work related in my in-box but no word from Emily. I realize I miss her flirty messages, but I can't blame her for giving me the silent treatment after I pushed her away last night. I'll think of a way to make it up to her. We can start all over again.

Finally the cab pulls up to my apartment building. I pay him then hurry to my apartment; anxious to apologize to Emily for my behavior and find a way to make things right with her. When I enter the apartment is deathly quiet. I call out her name with no answer. The whole situation is almost exactly the same as when I found her playing in my bed. I smile and quietly move to my bedroom. I open the door as silently as possible and stare at the emptiness.

I glance in the bathroom and the balcony but she is in neither place. Then, I see the yellow paper hanging from the fridge. As I approach it I can tell it's not the note that I left, but a new one from Emily. I snatch it out off and read it, growing angry.

“Dear Mr. Rude-and-Mean, Since you have better things to do and I'm obviously in your way, I have decided to leave you alone for the day. I will be back whenever – Don't wait up.”

Great. I've lost my boss's daughter somewhere in the city. How can she be so immature to just leave? Well, I guess that's pretty much what I just did to her this morning. Still, she could be robbed, raped, walking around the city by herself. I don't really give a damn what Jim would say if he found out about this; all I really care about is finding her and getting her back home safe and sound.

I call her cell; she doesn't answer. I hang up without leaving a message and immediately call again; still no answer. Has something happened to her or is she just ignoring me? I send her a text then storm off to the bathroom to shower where I scrub myself until my skin hurts. I check my phone as soon as I'm out but still nothing. Dammit!

After getting dressed I start driving aimlessly around the city looking for a glimpse of her; it's a pretty pointless act, I know, but I can't sit in the apartment not doing anything. I slowly cruise street by street feeling more and more helpless as time keeps passing by.

It starts getting dark. I drive slowly back to the apartment building; searching at night is even more pointless as I could drive right past her and not even see her hidden in a shadow. Back inside the apartment I do the only other thing that I know to do right now; I start cleaning. I scrub every surface, every base board, every thin crack between the tiles and floor boards; and I wait for Emily to come home.

~ Emily ~

I can't confide in Ashley. Not right now. There isn't even anything going on between Clint and I and I know Ashley will just make everything into a bigger mess than it already is. Instead, I listen to her whine and complain about boys, Eric in particular. Finally, she gets it all out of her system. She's not upset with me or Eric's choice to wait for me – I guess that's one of the reasons why we are friends in the first place. Instead, she's mad about boys in general; which eventually leads to her questioning me about Clint again.

I'm not sure if she senses that I'm mad at him right now, but when I tell her that we have math homework to finish she drops the issue and resumes her place next to me at the dining table, pencil ready to start copying my work. The work does me good and takes my mind off the man that's been occupying my thoughts non-stop for the last couple of days; until he starts calling.

The ever present Ashley eye balls me curiously when she sees his name pop up on my caller ID but I hit ignore instead of answering. I ignore the look she's giving me, and she finally shows brains by not saying anything about it. He calls again and I ignore the call once more. Then I turn my phone off so he will stop bothering me.

After finishing our math, we veg out in front of the TV watching sappy romance movies. Ashley convinces her mom to go to the store and buy us each a small container of ice cream. Then, we continue our movie marathon until dinner time. Her parents tell me I can stay, but I make up a lie about my aunt starting to worry about me. Her mom offers to drive me there, but I turn down the offer. A walk in the cool night air sounds really good, and I'm starting to dread facing Clint again. I know he's going to be mad that I left the apartment without telling him where I was going or when I would be back. He probably already called my dad to complain about my behavior and I'm sure I'll have a message on my phone with my dad yelling and cursing at me to straighten up. I leave my phone off as I slowly make my way back to the apartment. I just don't want to deal with anymore crap today.

The elevator stops on Clint's floor and I take a long, deep breath before exiting. My feet feel like lead as I walk down the corridor to his room. If he's super mad I'll just dash in, grab all of my shit, and head back to Ashley's place. I can work up a lie about my aunt having to work all of a sudden or something and they will let me stay the night there. Feeling more secure now that I have a plan I reach out and try the door knob; it's locked. I start to dig through my pockets for the extra key Clint had given me when the door suddenly flies open.

Oh shit. He's not mad; he's pissed. He glares at me, anger radiating off of his entire body, but I won't let him scare me. I slip around him and he slams the door behind me. I don't give him the satisfaction by turning around though and I walk as nonchalant as possible into the living room where I start refolding some clothes so my bag will be able to zip shut. I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head but I won't give in. I watch my hands as they amazingly only tremble a little bit as I fold my belongings up. I feel victorious in my ability to appear calm when really I'm scared shit-less inside. My victory is short lived as the yelling starts.

“Where the hell have you been?!”


“Where? With who? Why didn't you answer your phone?”

“With none-of-your-business and because I didn't feel like answering it.”

“Dammit, Emily. Turn around and look at me!”


“Right now.”


The floor does a magic trick and disappears from beneath my knees. I float up into the air, desperately grasping onto a single, lonely sock as I soar upwards. The floor gives up its disappearing act and reappears, hard, under my feet. Then, the world spins as I'm suddenly face-to-face with one pissed off dude. His hands are high up on each of my arms, almost painfully holding me in place while he fixes me with one of those cold looks that sent me running last night.

“Let go of me!” I scream at his face.

“Not until you answer me,” he says in more of a growl than actual words.

OK, he wins; I'm scared. But he has no business touching me or talking to me the way that he is and my anger that slowly melted away over the course of the day comes gushing back to the surface, spilling out of me, and making me lose control. With my arms immobile I do the only thing I can think of (something I was taught in a self-protection class I took last year) and I bring my right knee up as hard as I can into Clint's groin. He sees my move right before my knee connects with his soft parts and manages to hop backwards just enough to avoid a full blow. His hands are off of my arms and busy holding his jewels as I make a mad dash for the bathroom, still clutching my sock in hand.

My shoes lose traction against the wet floor, I start slipping and sliding before landing painfully on my hip. I have a moment, while I'm laying on the floor, to realize he has just recently waxed. Then I see his bare feet in front of my face. I strike at his legs with my only weapon; a white, slightly sad looking sock. His hands come down and grab at my arms again and I brace myself for the fury that is sure to be released upon me.

He hauls me back onto my feet. I wince, my hip protesting against the weight it has to carry now. Instead of more angry words I hear laughter. I look up to meet Clint's face and burst into laughter with him.

We both hobble back to the living room, going careful over the slippery wood flooring. Our laughter starts to die down until he points at the sock still in my hand and we both lose control again. In the living room he grows serious again, placing his hand underneath my chin and turning my head to look up at him. The coldness is gone from his eyes, replaced by the opposite; now seeming to burn as if a small flame is alight behind each one. He holds my gaze until he's sure he has my attention and then speaks softly.

“I'm sorry for my behavior last night and this morning, Emily.”

“OK.” It's all I can manage; I'm lost in his eyes.

“If you'll let me I'd like to start all over.”

“Alright,” I squeak.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says more quietly.

His eyes pull off of mine and move slightly downward, staring at my lips. Reflexively, I lick them and I see his jaw clench. Then he's moving slowly towards me; his lips coming straight towards mine. His eyes lock back on my eyes and I know I'm staring wide-eyed at him. I totally freeze; I can't move, I can't think, I can't even breath but I close my eyes as he comes even closer and allow him to take me where he will.

His lips brush very lightly against mine; the breath I had been holding is forced out in a soft, shuddering moan at the contact. He presses his mouth firmer against mine, his lips coaxing mine to part slightly. I feel his hand on the side of my face, his fingers slowly winding through my hair. He breaths out against me and then his tongue is lightly playing against mine. I feel like a statue, awkwardly just standing there while he intensifies the kiss; his lips owning mine, possessing them, orchestrating them to part more or to close slightly in sync with his.

My brain refuses to help me out in this situation so I just let my body act on its own. He breaths out against and into my mouth and I breath it in, feeling drunk from the exchange. Then I breath out and I hear and feel him breath me in just as I did to him.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, his eyes laced with sexual lust. Finally, I am able to get my mind working and my body to move again. I raise a shaky hand to his face, my fingers brushing across his jaw line. He closes his eyes, turns his head into my hand, and groans. This give me more courage to continue exploring him and when he turns to look at me again I stand on my tip toes and crash my lips into his.

This new kiss is feverish, urgent, needing. I keep my hand on his jaw, urging him to not pull away. Our tongues move over each other, exploring one another in more depth. His arm moves around my lower back and pulls me to him; our bodies shaping to each other. I can feel his hard abs against mine, his chest against my chest, and his body heat rolling over me. I moan...he groans in response, and we continue to both be lost in one another.

He fights my kiss and manages to gain control over it; he slows us down just a little and sucks gently on my lower lip, pulling it out just a bit between his before releasing. My tongue glides teasingly over his lower lip in response. He exhales a guttural groan into my mouth and pulls my pelvis harder into his. I can feel his excitement literally growing; pulsating against me, growing bigger and harder with every passing throb. I bite his lower lip gently and suddenly he pulls away, making my eyes snap open.

He lowers his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. We both work to catch our breaths and slow our heartbeats. He stands fully upright, moving back a step and putting just a little distance between our bodies. I start to panic, thinking that I've done something wrong, but he tells me the problem before I can ask.

“It's a little sore...,” he says with his half-smile while indicating towards his groin with his eyes.

I can't help myself and I start laughing again. Soon he joins me. He holds my hand and walks me to the couch. We sit together, but he maintains some space between us. Now I'm really regretting hitting him there. I feel myself pouting, wanting more of this wonderful man and unable to get more because of my own recent actions.

“Don't pout,” he says sternly.

“I can pout if I want to,” I say with a little attitude.

“It turns me on. If you keep doing it then it will take longer for me to be … operational.... again. So, don't pout.”

“I'm sorry about that,” I say, trying to wipe my pouting look off my face.

“It's OK. I deserved it. How's your hip?”

“A little sore,” I tell him, my hand lightly rubbing against the sore spot.

“I'll get you some ice and ice it for you,” he says with a wink and stands up.

“Then I can ice your... injury... when you're done with mine.”

“I think heat will do better on mine,” he says over his shoulder. “I don't think I have a heat pad though, so you'll have to rub it.”

I can hear his smile in his voice. I lean back into the couch, smiling to myself, still riding the emotional high that he has put me on. I close my eyes and can still taste him on my mouth and feel his body's heat as he was pressed against me. My heartbeat is finally returning to normal, my panties are wet, and my dirty mind is running wild. I try to imagine what technique I will use to 'rub' his aches away. I hear him returning from the kitchen with the promised ice pack. I open my eyes and leave my fantasies for another time; reality is definitely better than fantasy this time.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © ©2014 TxSwinger. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author. All such requests should be emailed to

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