Jecca

- 70’s Paul McCartney x Reader - pt. 7 / 7 - fluff/angst/smut - LOTS OF SMUT THIS CHAPTER -

You woke up before your alarm went off. Summertime meant the sun rose earlier than usual.

You weren’t tired, however. You felt perfectly rested. So you decided to get up and make yourself a cup of lemon tea.

As your tea steeped you did your hair. It fell perfectly on its own; no bed-head.

You had just done your laundry so your favorite outfit was clean and ready to wear.

A great start to what would be an even better day.

.

You went to work like usual.  You answered a few calls, scheduled a few meetings, and daydreamed at your desk.

You would often lean back in your chair and stare up at the beautiful abovehead chandelier, picturing Paul’s delicate features. You would replay your interactions, admiring the subtle details of his face and the cute micro-gestures he did. You were addicted to the feeling of butterflies he caused to flutter in your stomach.

Riiiiiiiing! 

You looked down at the phone, reaching your hand out to pick it up like muscle memory. You recognized the number immediately. It was Paul’s extension from the recording room.

Riiiiii-

“Helloooo?” You purred, grinning ear to ear.

“_____, would you please be a doll and make me an iced tea? I’m sweating like a pig here!” “With soymilk and a dash of sugar. I’ll be right there.” “Thanks a ton.”

You put the phone down and rushed to the break room to prepare his drink.

You took out a tall glass and poured some ice into it, followed by a perfect ratio of soy milk, sugar, and his favorite English breakfast tea. There was some extra tea left over, so you decided to put it in the fridge in case Paul wanted more later. You hoped he would so that you would have an excuse to visit him again.

.

“Here you go!” You placed the cup down on a table beside you.

“Oh, thank you. I’m dying here-”

Paul turned around to face you and immediately your face turned beet red. His mint green button up was UN-buttoned, revealing his peach-fuzzy chest and stomach that glistened with sweat. A wave of shock shot down your spine, feeling dirty for even looking at him.

‘Holy shit, he’s so hot...’

You quickly looked up away from his bare torso and into his eyes. It was as if your brain malfunctioned, scrambling to come up with a response.

Paul took notice of your reaction but said nothing. The singer was no stranger to women ogling at his body, but when it was you ogling at him, it was especially cute.

He took a big swig of his tea, chugging it so quickly a few drops accidentally spilled from the sides of his mouth onto his chest.

It took everything inside of you to stop your eyes from widening, your jaw dropping to the floor, and your tongue rolling out like a carpet.

“Ahh! Thanks again, dear. This heat is no joke, the sun is wrathful this year, isn’t it?” He sighed, wiping his mouth with his arm. 

“Uhh.. Uhuh…” you gulped. You were no better than a man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off his body. You felt like a dirty geezer staring at the bosom of some young girl.

Despite Paul’s best efforts to not acknowledge your reaction, he needed to say something. It would be a missed opportunity if he didn’t; a missed opportunity to clear the air about how you really feel about each other.

Paul was desperate to shed some light on his feelings for you. He was tired of pretending that he didn’t want you. That your kiss was an accident. It was growing increasingly difficult to ignore his desire to hold you close and kiss you. Each day at work was a painful reminder of it, and each day he had to remind himself of whatever excuses there were as to why it couldn’t happen. Why it wouldn’t work out. Any reason not to go for it.

But he had had enough. He was done with weighing out the pros and cons. He knew he had to let his heart steer the wheel this time. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to make you his.

“_____…” Paul murmured, his eyes hardening with conflict.

“Yea- uhm- Yes?” You stammered, taking notice of his suddenly serious expression. You were worried you’d upset him by staring at him inappropriately.

He took a few steps closer, closing the gap between you two. He looked down at you, trying to figure out how to put his feelings into words. Luckily he had a lot of experience with that.

You gazed up nervously, finding his shift in demeanor very worrying.

“I apologize for being forward, but… That night. At my house. Do you… Well, do you ever think about it?”

“What?” You were taken aback. Why on Earth was he asking about that night? You tried your hardest to forget about it. You both made it a point to act like it meant nothing. So why is he bringing it up? 

Paul shuffled uncomfortably. “I mean, it’s hard not to, y’know? We can’t go on pretending it never happened.” 

Your brow furrowed with frustration. You felt your face growing hot with anger and embarrassment.

“Paul… Weren’t you the one trying to play it off like a mistake? You said we just ‘had a bit too much fun-"

“I know what I said,” he growled, cutting you off. He winced at how sharply his words came out, it made his stomach churn with fury and guilt. You didn’t respond.

Sigh. “I said that because I thought I had to.”

“Who was forcing you?!”

“I don’t know!” Paul turned around for a moment to regain his composure. He looked off into the distance, brushing his lip in thought.

Your eyes burned into the back of his head with arms crossed.

“You made it seem like you didn’t want it to mean anything…”

Paul turned back around.

“_____, you have no idea how much I think about that kiss.”

Something inside of you snapped. He had sent one too many mixed signals. 

“Oh my god, Paul, DO YOU WANT TO FUCK ME OR NOT!?”

He straightened up his back and stared at you blankly. Your stomach dropped instantly. You stammered as your hands flew up to your mouth.

“I- I- Um- I’m sorry-”

Abruptly, he backed you up into the wall, pinning you with his hands beside your head. Your heart nearly bursted out of your chest. He maintained a heavy-lidded stare, lips parted as he licked them slowly. You squeezed your legs together tightly, breath quivering.

Before you could think, Paul crashed into you with a kiss that had the force of a thousand waves.

It was intense. Hungry.

You melted into him, grabbing the back of his neck and deepening the kiss. Your teeth clicked together as you both became frantic. He lowered one of his hands to caress you down the side of your body, which caused you to grip his hair. He bit at your bottom lip, finally slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly, swirling your tongues around until your mouths were a sloppy mess. This went on for a savory couple of minutes.

The kiss finally broke, pulling away just enough that your lips were barely touching. You panted, staring into each other's eyes. He reached his other hand that was still pinning you down to your chin, gently pushing your face up and to the left so that he could slowly lick up the side of your neck.

“Ah~” you whimpered. The feeling of his warm breath on your skin made you tingle. Your mind was going fuzzy with animalistic desire. Paul smiled, proud of the noise he caused to escape your mouth. He lightly kissed and sucked the base of your neck in several areas, eventually moving to the other side. You huffed and groaned quietly, totally unable to control your moans due to how good it all felt.

Months of sexual tension was finally being released. No more holding back. No more awkwardness. No more professional workplace dynamic. At this point, you were no more sensible than two animals in heat during mating season.

After Paul decided he’d left enough marks on your neck, he sunk down to his knees to be eye-level with your mid-section. He looked up at you with sultry eyes, running his hands up your thighs and landing on your waistband. He traced the edge of your belt with his fingers, refusing to break his intense eye contact. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He hesitated when his hands reached your belt buckle.

“Keep going…” You urged him readily.

“Ah-ta-ta! What’s the magic word~?” He coo’d.

“... Please, Paulie…” you begged.

As commanded, he quickly unbuckled your belt and pulled your skirt down, then your stockings, and then with his teeth, bit and pulled down your purple underwear. From a little ways below your knee, he kissed up your slowly parting legs until he reached your pelvis.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as Paul sat below you, his lips grazing your… lips. The anticipation was killing you. You wanted him to devour you already, but Paul was careful to savor every achingly perfect moment of this. He knew what the hell he was doing, and he was determined to show you everything he knew.

“I’m going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, love.”

Mr McCartney wasted zero time diving into your warmth. With his nose buried, he slowly flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth/up and down. Your taste and smell overwhelmed him, flipping a switch inside his horny brain. His growing erection was starting to become painful with how restricted he was in his dress pants.

You threw your head back into the wall, letting out a breathy, drawn-out groan.

“Hnnnnnghhh~”

You raked your fingers through Paul’s short black hair, squeezing as he suddenly began licking more aggressively. He lapped and sucked at your nub eagerly, groaning more and more. His right hand gripped your ass cheek, while the other slithered up to teasingly rub your lips. Your back arched, hips moving on their own to try and get his fingers to slip inside. He obliged, massaging your entrance to cover his middle and ring finger with your juice before slowly moving them deep into your wet cunt.

“Ah, fuck, Paulie~!” You cried out in pleasure.

You were soaked by this point, so both of his fingers slipped right in no problem. His fingertips were calloused from playing the guitar, but it didn’t hurt. In fact you liked it. You never thought you’d feel those fingers inside of you, yet here you were.

He pulled his head away momentarily, mouth dripping with your wetness. “You like tha’ baby?” He smirked and licked his lips seductively. You nodded your head desperately.

“You’re so damn pretty from this angle,” he rasped before continuing. He massaged your inner wall, stimulating your g-spot as he slurped your clit. His sweet praise rang in your head, causing an intense spark to grow in your stomach. You were getting close.

You caressed his head gently, focusing on your imminent orgasm. You held your breath as it drew near, causing Paul to hone in on his movements. He could tell you were drawing near which only motivated him further. He was dying to fuck you right then and there, but you needed to cross the finish line before he would allow himself to have you.

“Ngh, don’t stop. Please–ahh fuck–just like that…”

He didn’t speed up or slow down. The hazel eyed man stared up at you as you twitched and wriggled around. His jaw was cramping up and his fingers were growing tired. But like the sweet satisfying ending of a symphony, your orgasm came crashing sending shockwaves throughout your entire body. You moaned a mixture of curse words and Paul’s name to which he found great pleasure. He groaned as you came on his face, slowing down as your walls pulsed around his fingers. He watched as your orgasm washed over you, surprised at how long it lasted.

‘Guess I’m getting pretty good at that,’ Paul tooted his own horn internally.

When you finally settled you were a sweating, panting mess. You looked down at Paul and giggled. He smiled, taking his shirt off and wiping his mouth clean. He stood up, assuming his towering position above you once more. He held your waist and looked into your eyes adoringly.

“That feel good?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You felt intoxicated by pure euphoria. You thought you must be dreaming, but that orgasm was way too good for it not to be real.

“Good. Because it’s my turn now.”

With a sexy but respectful amount of aggression, your dear Paul flipped you around and bent you over onto the wall. There was a certain level of forcefulness he used that showed you he meant business, but still allowed you to move on your own. You assumed this position because you wanted to. You sprawled your hands out to hold yourself steady as he pulled your ass toward him.

“Damn~” You purred.

Admiring your body, he slowly grinded his bulge on your soft round bottom. Your juices got all over his pants but he didn’t care. Not one bit. He loved teasing you. You waved your ass back and forth, whining for him to do something. It gave him a certain rush that made him somehow hornier than before. He hurriedly unbuckled himself and pulled down his pants and underwear, revealing his huge, rock hard dick.

Penis had never looked so appetizing until now. It was just over 6 inches (16 ish cm), and his balls were tight. You stared in awe as he grabbed it with his left hand and began stroking himself slowly as he inched toward you. With his right hand, he got close to you and reached around you to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your bare chest. He groped and massaged you, softly pinching your nipple. Paul rubbed his member on your still sensitive clit causing you to wince. He swayed his hips forward and backward, doing this almost-slipping-it-in motion without actually penetrating. It was driving you insane. But that’s when you remembered something.

“P-Paul-” you squeaked. “What about protection…”

He pulled away, still holding onto his throbbing cock.

“Er, well… I’m afraid I don’t have any. Wasn’t expecting to be fucking you in my studio, y’know?”

You huffed, submissively pouting your lip as you kept waving your ass at him. As much as you knew it would be a bad idea to have sex without a condom, you just wanted him inside of you already. You were far past good decision making.

“Hmmph… Well, I guess it would feel better if we do it raw anywa- UNHH~!”

Halfway through your sentence the tall man thrusted as deep inside of you as he could. He took hold of your hip with one hand and your hair with the other and began roughly pounding your pussy. The wet sound of skin hitting together filled the air.

Plap plap plap plap plap plap!

“Thaaaaat’s it. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You lost your shit whenever he called you that. Like, ‘yeah, I am a good girl, aren’t I? Tell me again how good I’m doing!’ 

Paul’s relentless movements turned you into a moaning babbling mess. With each thrust you let out a strangled noise, completely letting go of any and all embarrassment. He was having his way with you and you were happy to submit yourself to him. He continued slamming his hips into you, your mind going blank with pleasure.

He released his grip on your hip, sliding his hand around your waist to hold you by the stomach, switching his other hand that was grabbing onto your hair to gently but firmly take a hold of your throat, effectively pulling you closer to him. He continued to thrust as you stretched your arm back to caress his head.

Paul leaned into your ear, the sound of his unsteady breathing making you feral.

“You’re squeezing me so tight. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like being fucked by your boss, don’t you, naughty girl?”

“Yessss~” you drooled.

Paul leaned back, looking down at his cock that was rapidly disappearing inside of you.

Plap plap plap plap plap!

“You look so pretty when you take it.” He bit his lip hard. You blushed, feeling your walls tighten.

Abruptly, Paul let go of you and pulled out. You stood up, releasing your hands from the wall and turning around to face him. You stood there awkwardly with your clothes half off, suddenly remembering embarrassment.

Without another word, Paul leaned down and extended his arms between your legs, hoisting you up off your feet and pinning you against the wall. Your back was pressed up on the wall with Paul’s strong hands supporting your weight from beneath you. You’d never been fucked like this before, it was like something out of a porno. You weren’t even sure it would work, technically speaking. But you watched as Paul aligned his dick with your entrance, filling you up once more.

Something about this angle made his dick hit your sweet spot. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting him to stifle a loud moan. You groaned and whimpered in his ear which turned him all the way on.

Plap plap plap plap plap!

“How much do you love my cock, hm?”

“So fucking much!” You cried.

You enjoyed this position because you got to be so close to Paul. You lifted your head and studied his face. Your sin-filled gaze flickered between each of his eyes and his parted red lips. He was panting heavily as he stared back at you. Not only was your hole full, but so was your heart.

Paul’s pretty hazel-green eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in to kiss you, your lips desperately finding each other. He was experiencing a high so intense it rivaled whatever drugs he had experimented with in the past. You were his drug now.

Plap… Plap…… Plap………

He slowed down, zoning in on your kiss. He sucked at your lip hungrily, relishing the taste of your mouth. It hurt a bit, but you knew that just meant he was feeling so good he couldn’t control himself. He pulled back and looked at you dreamily.

“Sweetheart…” he panted. “Would you mind sucking me off?” His voice was deep with lust. You loved this tone of voice, it was one he reserved only for special times like these.

You nodded and he oh so gently put you down. He grabbed your hand and led you over to his chair. You shuffled behind him, heart pounding. You don’t know when the last time was that you had given head. You hoped it would come back to you when the thing was actually in front of you.

Paul took a seat, leaning back. You carefully got onto your knees and examined his cock up close. It was thick at the base and the tip was bright pink, almost red. It twitched and throbbed before you, silently begging to be taken care of.

You reached your hand out and slowly found your grip onto his penis, stroking it gently. Your fingers brushed the shaft all the way up, playing with the sensitive skin around and on his tip. Paul squirmed slightly in his seat, petting your head with one hand.

You looked up at him momentarily before sticking your tongue out and lapping at his tip. It sent a jolt through Paul’s body and he let out a quiet moan. Off to a good start.

Paul’s grip on your head tightened as he guided your head lower. Obeying, you opened your mouth and lowered your head onto his length, wincing when it reached the back of your throat. And all of it wasn’t even in! He began bobbing your head on himself, throwing his head back in pleasure.

He pushed down extra hard when it was all the way in your mouth, jerking his hips slightly. It caused you to gag and you had to lift your head up a little to catch your breath, to which he would let go of you. But Paul loves the sound of your gags. It meant you really wanted to make him feel good.

“Such a pretty girl you are... Fuck…”

Paul had been on the edge for quite some time now. After eating you out and fucking you senseless, he was about ready to explode. And you could tell. You stroked him faster and sucked him more aggressively, saliva everywhere. Wet sounds and Paul’s groaning echoed in the room. His breath hitched as he drew near.

“I’m… I’m gonna…..”

Paul gripped the arm of his chair with one hand and covered his mouth with the other, shaking and sweating profusely. He stared down at you admiringly, the sight of your face made his heart skip a beat. You looked beautiful trying so eagerly to please him, but then again, you always looked beautiful. No matter what.

Paul admired everything about you. There was something in your spirit that reminded him of himself when he was younger, full of ambition and joy. Being around you made him forget everything that brought him down. He wanted to it to last forever. He wanted to be with you forever.

Paul’s orgasm waved through his body, his dick pulsing as thick warm cum shot out all over both you and him.

“Fuck, _____, I love you! Ahh~ God I love you!”

Your eyes widened.

After a few quaking moments, his body went limp. You relaxed your grip on him and looked at him in complete shock.

“What?” You breathed.

He panted, leaning forward to get closer to your face.

“I love you.”

“Do you really? Or– Is it the cum talking,” You joked, looking at your hand which was coated in it.

He laughed, shaking his head.

“I love you, _____. You don’t have to respond right now, but I’m mad about you. Truly.”

You stood up and crawled on top of him finding a seat on his lap. He held your sides tightly and looked up at you with a grin. You smiled back and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

- 70’s Paul McCartney x Reader - pt. 6 / 7 - fluff/angst/smut - -

Bang! Clank!

“Ouch, bloody hell!”

Muffled banging could be heard from the other room. You flipped over onto your side and lazily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, regaining consciousness slowly. Sunlight gently poured into the room, a room you were having a hard time recognizing.

'Is this my room? No… My dorm? No, no…. Where am I….'

With all your strength, you pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed. You looked down at the ground, racking your brain. You soon realized your stomach was queasy and you had a slight headache.

Then, suddenly, everything came back to you.

‘I got drunk and made out with my boss. Fuck.’

You lifted your head and looked around the room. You stared at the door, mentally preparing yourself to face Paul after last night’s events. You sat there for a minute before standing up and creeping out of the bedroom.

Unfamiliar with this part of his house, you wandered down the hallway towards what looked like the path to the kitchen. You turned a corner and discovered Paul, messy-haired and in comfortable-looking pajamas, frying some delicious smelling eggs. You knocked on the wall beside you to gently grab his attention. His head whipped up from the stove to greet you with an oh so excited smile.

“Good morning,” he grinned sweetly.

“Good morning,” you echoed shyly. His sweetness never failed to make you flustered.

Paul lifted the pan off the stove and slid the eggs on top of two pieces of toast. You walked into the kitchen as he turned the stove off and carried the plates to the table, inviting you to sit with him. You took a seat across from him and inhaled the savory aroma of the toast.

“Thank you for making breakfast…. That was sweet of you.” You licked your lips, excited to eat something to ease the pain in your stomach.

“Of course! If you feel as knackered as I do, you ought’to eat something to settle your stomach.” You appreciated his thoughtfulness and began chowing down on your breakfast like it was the greatest thing you'd ever tasted.

But there was something weighing in the air. The elephant in the room. Paul was the first to address it.

“So… About last night…” He began hesitantly. He paused, inviting you to chime in prematurely.

“We got pretty drunk,” you laughed. He laughed too, weakly.

“We did… ‘Bit unprofessional of your boss to drunkenly bring his secretary home, eh?” He sounded embarrassed, but there was something else in his voice that hinted he wanted to be wrong. He wanted you to deny it, but you knew he was right.

“I guess it wouldn’t look great on your part if the press saw,” you admitted. You took another bite of your toast, wondering if perhaps the news had seen you coming home with him. You weren’t ready to be in the public eye.

Paul was silently resigned. He was expecting a different answer from you. He wasn’t sure what answer exactly, but something else. Despite your obvious feelings for each other, the situation didn’t look great on paper. The two of you ate together quietly, thoughts buzzing around in your heads. Thoughts that were too uncomfortable to say out loud now that you were no longer intoxicated.

“Well, let’s not be strangers now. Just had a bit too much fun is all, hm?” The man with the pretty eyes tried his damndest to maintain some sort of normalcy between you two. You appreciated it, glad that your drunken kiss wasn’t going to get in the way of your friendship.

After breakfast, you gathered your things and made your way home. The rest of your weekend was spent playing that night over and over.

There were a few different ways you could approach this situation.

1) A man with a much higher position above you, both professionally and socially, had feelings for you. Although you both knew that there was no abuse of power in this relationship, the fact still remained that he had a position above you, and that in and of itself was taboo. This would force you to maintain a professional distance from him at work.

2) Paul was an ultra mega super celebrity. Everything he did was documented and broadcast to the entire world. You knew that if anything were to blossom between you two, your name and face would be plastered all over the news. This thought alone deterred you from even entertaining thoughts of pursuing him.

3) Despite 1 and 2, you still needed Paul desperately.

Throughout your time knowing Paul, you'd come to know his deeper, innermost personality. The side of him that the public didn’t witness. He was soft and sensitive despite trying hard not to seem so. He put up this appearance of someone who is more well put together than he really is. You’d do the same thing if you were the center of the public eye for the past 10 years.

But he was also incredibly kind and thoughtful. Even in the period when he was avoiding you, he still made sure to praise you when you did a good job and gently answered whatever questions you had. His calm and charming nature made you feel safe. It only helped that he was incredibly sexy.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Coming back to work on Monday was a little awkward to say the least.

You answered calls, and Paul worked on his songs. Most days you would spend time in the recording room, keeping him company and offering guiding directions for songs when he needed them. Today in particular, you spent more than a few hours in there with Paul as he was working on a song he called “Another Day”. You went about your day talking and laughing with him as usual, but both of you clearly had something more pressing on your minds.

Paul strummed his guitar, fingering the notes with effortless precision. You reveled in being able to watch the man work his magic.

He hummed the melody as he strummed, mumbling some words along the way. His gaze switched between his guitar and your face as you watched him from your chair.

“It’s just another day, hm hm da dun duhnn... It’s just another day…”

He glanced up from his guitar momentarily, a spark of inspiration in his beautiful hazel eyes. 

“So sad… So sad…

Sometimes she feels so sad.

Alone in apartment, she’d dwell

‘till the man of her dreams comes to break the spell~.”

He repeated the chords a few times as he thought of more lyrics. You tilted your head as you listened, wondering where he could POSSIBLY conjure these lyrics from.

“Ah, stay, don’t stand around.

And he comes, and he stays,

but he leaves the next day…

So sad…

Sometimes she feels so sad.”

Paul mumbled the rest of the song, strumming until he felt the song should end.

“I feel so bad for her. It’s not her fault she can’t find love,” you commented.

“So sad,” he replied simply. He set his guitar down to scribble the lyrics he had just come up with in his notebook. “She wants love just like everyone else, but the universe just doesn’t seem to allow it. Always something standing in the way.”

“Mm…” His words resonated with you. You couldn't shake the feeling that those lyrics held a deeper, more direct message. But you weren’t the best at reading between the lines.

Paul, on the opposite side of this wordless battle, was trying desperately to tell you how he felt. The subtle glances and messages in his lyrics were all his inadvertent attempts to get you to realize his true feelings. 

It went beyond attraction. You consumed Paul’s thoughts. More than any woman had before. You’re all he wanted to think about. In the midst of a very confusing and directionless time in his life, you gave him clarity and purpose. His feelings for you ignited a passion within him he thought he wouldn’t feel again after his time with the Beatles.

You made him feel alive.

But you were also his employee. His secretary. A fan at that!

He felt guilty indulging in any fantasies where the two of you could be together. It felt inappropriate. You, a 22 year old fresh out of college, being hired by a 28 year old Paul McCartney to work as his secretary. And after only a few months you start dating? He knew he was a womanizer but he didn’t want to look like a sleaze bag. 

“You alright, Paul?” you asked him, interrupting his flow of thoughts.

“Yes, quite alright,” he reassured.

“Have you got something on your mind…?” You leaned forward, desperate to know what was going on inside of his head.

Paul didn’t respond immediately. He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Does it seem like I do? Hah… Just caught up in work is all, y’know?” He tried brushing it off, hoping you’d buy it. You didn’t.

“If you say so…” you trailed off.

Paul smiled at you, reaching his arm out to caress your knee.

-  70’s Paul McCartney x Reader - pt. 5 / 7 - fluff/angst/smut - -

“BAHAHAHA! Seriously?!” You gasped.

“Yes! He waltzed in there all high and mighty, sayin’ ‘Oh ho! I’m Jesus, don’t you know?’ The oaf,” Paul laughed heartily.

“Wow. I’d like to try that one of these days,” you giggled, reaching for your almost empty glass of wine. That would be your fourth.

“It’s one hell of a drug. Had some wonderful experiences, but it’s definitely not something I would do all the time.”

You chugged the last of your wine and sighed, setting the glass down on the table and looking at Paul. He looked at you, face flushed. You were both sufficiently intoxicated, and it was becoming noticeable to the other guests at the restaurant. Neither of you seemed to notice, though.

The waitress approached the table timidly.

“Mr. McCartney, we have received some complaints about the noise at this table. Would you mind keeping your conversation down just a tad?”

It was clear she did not want to be the bearer of bad news.

“Oh, sorry, dear!” Paul looked at you. “Do you want to just get out of here?”

You nodded, already reaching for your purse.

Paul reached into his pocket to fetch his wallet. He pulled out £200 and set it on the table, abruptly standing up.

“Come on, then,” he gestured for you to follow. You stood up, and as soon as your feet touched the ground, you realized how drunk you really were. You wobbled a little in your heels as you hurried after the tall man, exiting the restaurant.

Paul stood on the side of the road hailing a cab while you struggled to put on your coat. It was a dark and windy night, but the alcohol warmed you up so that you hardly noticed. You looked over at Paul, waving his hand at passing cars. He peered over his shoulder at you and said without thinking:

“Do you want to come to my place, love?”

Your heart skipped a beat. How could you possibly let a chance like that slip by?

“If-hic-you’ll have me,” you obliged.

“No funny business or anything,” Paul shot you a cheeky smile.

“No! We’re just keeping this fun night going. Do you have anything to drink at home?”

“Don’t I.”

After a short while, you and the singer hopped into a taxi and drunkenly rambled the entire way to his house. Once you arrived, Paul got out of the car and stretched out his hand for you to grab to help yourself out. You took it, the touching of your skin no longer being something that felt scary and unnatural. You shut the door behind you and waited as Paul took out the money to pay the driver. He leaned into the car through the window to hand him the money and thank him, and you noticed the way Paul’s blue slacks really emphasized the size of his ass. You bit your lip and smiled, appreciating it for a moment before Paul stood back up and guided you to his front door.

Because you were drunk, you didn’t pay much attention to what his house looked like. Paul led you to his living room, inviting you to sit on the couch as he made you both drinks at the minibar, which was tucked in the corner of the room. Much like in the common room at the studio.

Then, you remembered the studio, Work. And how tense things had been between you and Paul until tonight. And, of course, because you were drunk, you said your thoughts out loud.

“I’m glad you invited me to dinner. I’m happy we worked things out.”

“Awww, I am too, sweetheart. 'M sorry for being such an arse,” he apologized, pulling out a fancy-looking bottle of wine from his cupboard and pouring it into a glass.

You blushed at his nickname for you. You noticed the drunker he got, the friendlier his nicknames became. It was cute.

Two drinks in hand, Paul carefully walked into the living room and placed the cups on two beaded coasters. Then, he shimmied over to his large stereo, looking through his extensive vinyl collection.

Paul was careful with his selection. As a musician, music was very important in setting the mood for an evening. He didn’t want to pick something too overtly sensual, but not anything too upbeat, either. And it would be narcissistic to put on music of his own. He decided on a simple jazz album.

He pulled out the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it on his turntable, pressing start and watching as it began to spin. The needle raised up and placed itself on the outer edge of the disk, and a quiet clicking hum started to sound. Paul adjusted the volume before coming to sit beside you on his couch.

“This is a very nice wine, Paul,” you commented after taking a swig from your glass.

“Isn’t it? Got it in France last year.”

You sighed deeply. “You’re so well-traveled. Aside from the state I lived in back in the U.S., I haven’t been much of anywhere.”

“Where would you want to go if you had the chance?” Paul inquired.

“Maybe somewhere in South America. Many beautiful countries there.”

“I ought to take you some day,” Paul grinned.

You lightly and playfully slapped his arm. “Oh, stop!”

“I’m serious! Why not? Everyone deserves a chance to escape their lives for a weekend. I could use that right about now…”

“Oh, you’re saying you’d rather be stargazing in Paris than talking to me right now?” You teased. You really just wanted to hear him insist that he wanted to be near you.

“Why can’t we both stargaze in Paris?” Paul’s sweet voice dropped to a lower tone when he said that. There was a sincerity in his voice that made you question how serious he was being, and how much of that was just the wine talking.

“You’d really want me to go with you?” You realized you were digging now.

“Who else?”

“I’m sure you have other lady friends you’d rather go to Paris with. The city of romance and all.”

“As of late?” Paul laughed weakly. “Not quite…”

There was a pause. The two of you sat on the couch without saying a word. It was a heavy silence that was luckily filled by the smooth sound of jazz. Something was burning in your chest, other than the alcohol, that you needed to ask.

“Why me, Paul?” You turned your head to look him in the eyes. You felt your better judgment slipping, saying whatever you wanted now.

“What do you mean, love?”

“Why have you put so much effort into… me? Helping me with a job, mending the tension between us. It seems like you really care about me even though you’ve only known me such a short time. Just… Why me??”

Paul was very taken aback. He had so many reasons. Reasons that were difficult to admit. Good thing he was quite drunk!

“Can I be honest with you?” He sounded hesitant.

“I would hope you’re honest with me all the time,” you joked. But you weren’t really joking. Paul took a sip of his wine before responding.

“There’s something special about you. You’re like a walking ray of sunshine. You, and nothing else, have been able to brighten some very dark days for me. My life has been a downward spiral after the band broke up. I don’t know who I am anymore. But…” He trailed off. His smooth voice was becoming shaky. It was clear he had longed to get this off his chest.

“But you… You’re someone who could give me purpose again. You’re inspiring. You remind me of why life is worth living. Why I should keep going.”

The eye contact between you and him was intense. You tried to come up with any explanation for how you could interpret what he just said as platonic, but you couldn’t deny it.

“But–hiccup–But I haven't done anything… to warrant you feeling this way…”

“It’s effortless.” Paul smiled warmly.

You filled him with a deep happiness that he felt was lost upon him forever. His heart raced at the thought of you, and raced even faster when he looked into your pretty eyes. And you, well, you could hardly believe your ears. This big celebrity whom you crushed on for years was sitting in front of you, going on and on about how wonderful you are. You realized he was someone beautiful past his socialite persona. He was just a man who needed a hug.

His puppy eyes were narrow with tiredness, woozy with intoxication. He scooched closer to you, and immediately upon feeling the warmth of his body you melted into him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, staring into your eyes without a break. You tilted your head, lazily smiling at him. He stared into each of your eyes, glancing at your lips gradually more as he licked his own.

Simultaneously, you both slowly leaned into each other and closed your eyes. The entire world was wiped away in an instant. It was only you and him, finally silencing rationality and embracing deep passion.

You kissed him with satisfaction that you were finally living out something you used to be embarrassed to fantasize about. He tasted sweeter than you thought he would. In fact, everything about this moment was better than you thought it might be.

You turned your bodies to face each other, Paul deepening the kiss as he became slowly more ravenous. His hand trailed down from your other shoulder down your back, feeling the dips and curves of your figure. He rested it on your waist, squeezing it as he pulled his other hand in to cup your cheek.

You ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, grabbing onto him with primal desire. You quietly moaned into him, which made him squeeze you tightly. Your tongues met and fought for domination in each other’s mouths. Both your breathing became heavier, more unsteady.

You pulled away for a pause to catch your breath.

He panted your name in a low, desperate voice. You’d never heard him talk like that before. It excited you. It really excited you. You felt your pussy throb, followed by something in Paul’s pants poking at your inner thigh. This ignited something carnal within you.

You leaned in further, lifting your leg to swing it over him. But instead of hoisting up onto Paul’s lap, you kneed your glass of wine, knocking the glass over and spilling wine all over his coffee table.

The embrace broke, and you gasped.

“Oh shit–”

Paul stood up to grab a rag.

“It’s okay! Darling, really–”

“No, god, I’m SO sorry. Here, I’ll clean it–”

You stumbled after him, reaching for the rag he had brought.

“Sweetheart, please. I’ve got it,” he hushed you as he began wiping up the wine.

You stood there with your mouth agape, heart racing. He cleaned up the mess quickly.

“This ol’ table has had enough spilled on it, it’s fineee,” he reassured you. He tossed the rag on the edge of the table and looked at you as you trembled.

A pause.

“We’re, um… Both really drunk…” You mumbled. Deep down, what you wanted in response was that he didn't care and that he wanted to make love to you into the night. But you knew he couldn’t do that.

“Yes, we are. Err, well, if you’re alright with it, you can stay the night here. You’re in no shape to go out right now,” he observed.

You nodded. “Gladly.”

- 70’s Paul McCartney x Reader - pt. 4 / 7 - fluff/angst/smut - -

Guilt ate at Paul the rest of the week. It was an ache that grew stronger each time it was ignored. Every day at work, Paul would avert his gaze, too ashamed of himself to look you in the eyes. He couldn’t; not after what he had done. Once again, he had proven he couldn’t control his primal desires.

On the other end, you were dealing with emotional whiplash. You and Paul had a wonderful conversation when you first met, and you felt that he was starting to open up a bit. Perhaps you could develop a relationship outside of boss/employee, and in your wildest fantasy, it could even go beyond friendship. But when you really thought about it, that’s all it was—a fantasy.

You didn’t know much about Paul. You wanted to get closer to him; you were drawn to his suave demeanor and lifestyle. But the likelihood of your truest, deepest personalities matching and living the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend was all… Unrealistic. A girl could dream!

But now all that seemingly had been thrown out the window. Paul wasn’t even looking at you anymore, let alone chit-chatting about his thoughts and feelings. You wondered if you had done something wrong, perhaps you overstepped, and it made him draw back. Perhaps something happened to him in his personal life and he was pushing everyone away. You didn’t know. He wouldn’t say.

When you passed in the hallway, you would look up at him cheerfully, and his face would turn sour as he slipped past. It broke your heart, and it broke Paul’s too. This went on for several weeks. The tension was thick, but you remained formal. You continued to take calls and do whatever little tasks Paul assigned to you. You would sit at your desk and daydream about Paul taking you away from it all, traveling the world, and being his muse. It bright you comfort only until the real him would brush past you without a word.

Paul continued to write and record his songs, but he was struggling. All he could think about was the pain filled face you would make each time he was near you. The guilt was driving him insane; he knew he had to do something to fix it.

.        .        .

By the end of the month you had accepted the way things had been going. You showed up to work and only spoke to Paul when absolutely necessary; you gave up on small talk with him. He was never all that receptive anymore. This position was temporary, you kept reminding yourself.

One afternoon while at work, you were snacking on some apple slices while staring out the grand lobby windows, bored out of your mind. It had been a slow week and you had too much time on your hands. Suddenly, a thought floated through your mind.

‘It’s 3:30, and I haven’t seen Paul come out of his studio a single time. Has he eaten at all today?’ you wondered. ‘Maybe I could bring him some food…’

You toyed with the idea for a moment before getting up and walking to the kitchen. You went straight to the fridge and pulled out your lunch bag, an uneaten sandwich sitting inside. You unwrapped it and put it on a plate, then made your way all across the studio to the recording room.

The ‘LIVE’ sign was off, meaning it was okay for you to enter. A wave of anxiety washed over you as your hand touched the doorknob. You hated being near him; his emotional distance made you oh so heartbroken. But you needed to overcome it eventually. You entered the room.

Paul was lost in a notebook, scribbling down notes and lyrics. He didn’t notice you as you walked up to him, and only when you cleared your throat did he jump and scramble to cover his notebook.

“_____! Sorry, I was distracted. Erm, did you need something?” His eye contact was near non-existent as he greeted you. 

You set the plate with the sandwich down on the coffee table in front of him.

“You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

Paul looked down at the sandwich and waited a few seconds before responding.

“No… I haven’t,” he admitted.

You gestured your hand toward the sandwich.

“Please, you’ve got to eat something.” You felt like you were practically begging.

Paul didn’t react, much to your dismay.

Abruptly, the singer stood and walked up to you, intensely gazing into your eyes. Your heart dropped to your stomach, completely unable to read his emotion.

“_____, dear, would you like to accompany me to dinner tonight? That is, if you’re not busy.”

You froze.

‘What? Dinner?? After weeks of avoiding me, he’s inviting me to dinner? Where’s this coming from?!’

“Uhhh…” You mumbled, quite taken off guard.

Paul’s eyes softened, now looking a bit worried.

“N-No pressure or anythin’,” he backpeddled. 

“No—I mean yes! Yes, of course, I’m not busy at all. I’ll join you…”

Paul dropped his shoulders, visibly relieved.

“Thank you… Meet me at Scott’s at, say, 6:30?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed quickly. You were thoroughly confused and delighted at the same time.

The brunet returned to his desk and picked up the sandwich you left.

“I appreciate you thinking of me,” he murmured in a tone that hid a deeper meaning.

You smiled. “It’s what I’m here for.”

After that interaction, the rest of the day went by in a flash. You spent the rest of your shift trying to make sense of what could possibly be going through Paul’s mind to no avail.

Once 5 rolled around, you raced home to start getting ready for your dinner. You spent a while picking out an outfit and even longer doing your hair. It had to be perfect. You were being seen in public with the Paul McCartney, after all.

You picked a blouse and dress that complemented the curves of your body. It took you a while to find the perfect pair of tights. You were careful with your makeup to accentuate your best features. You were all dolled up and ready to go.

You stood outside your apartment building anxiously waiting for a taxi to arrive. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, but you yearned to see Paul and finally have his undivided attention.

You soon arrived at the restaurant. It was nicer than you imagined, a beautiful older building with many people dining inside. You sat in the waiting room, nervously clutching your purse while habitually looking at the door to see if Paul had yet arrived.

“_____,” You heard his sweet voice call out from behind you.

You whipped your head around to see him beckoning you from within the restaurant. He was dressed up too, you noticed. He wore a white collared shirt under a bright, colorful vest paired with light blue slacks. His hair was neat and fluffy, exactly how you liked it.

You stood up and immediately walked towards him. For the first time in weeks, he offered you a sheepish smile as he guided you to the table, which was perfectly secluded from the rest of the restaurant, where you sat on opposite sides from each other.

“...”

“...”

You fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt, acutely aware of your posture, facial expressions, and overall how he may be perceiving you in that moment. You hadn’t a clue where this dinner was going, what his intentions were, or if you would have an appetite to finish your dinner.

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” he began quietly. His droopy doe eyes peered deeply into yours, an expression of hurt and guilt on his face.

“Of course,” you replied gently.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “... I think I owe you an explanation.”

You gulped, holding your tongue.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I have been a bit… Closed off, lately.” He waited, gauging your reaction.

“A little…?” You felt as though that was a gross understatement. Your face twisted despite your effort to conceal your emotions.

“Very closed off,” he corrected himself. “And I need you to know that it’s not your fault, love.”

Your expression softened. You had been hoping to hear those words for a while now.

“I’m a bit shy to admit this, but erm,” You noticed his cheeks were rapidly flushing.

“I’ve been rather lonely recently… Well, with the band breaking up and all, not much is going on in my life anymore. The only real thing I have to look forward to is…” He bit his lip. “Seeing you each day at work,” he nervously giggled.

You gasped, heart skipping a beat.

With perfect timing, the waitress approached the table right then. She was young and had her eyes glued to Paul.

“Good evening! My name is Jenny, I’ll be your waiter this evening. What can I get started to drink for you?” She chirped.

You just stared at Paul in awe. He, however, had the incredible ability to code switch and answered her swiftly.

“Your finest bottle of wine, please. And for you?” He kept his eyes on you, purposefully ignoring the waitresses oogly eyes.

“Water’s fine.” Something about seeing her so fascinated with Paul made your eye twitch. You knew entire crowds of girls would wet their pants at the sight of the Beatles, but this was more personal. More intimate.

“You got it. I’ll be right back with those,” She grinned, staring at Paul for just a moment too long after she turned away. You were glaring at her menacingly. Paul took notice, finding your distaste for an adoring fan cute.

You looked back at him smiling at you. You blushed, then remembered what he last said.

“You look forward to seeing me? You kinda have a funny way of showing it…”

Paul grabbed your hand that was rested on the table with both of his hands. You were shocked by his forwardness, but at the same time delighted. Your adrenaline was up through the roof.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve acted, love. You didn’t deserve it. I’m battling things within myself, and I shouldnt’ve taken it out on you.”

Something about him apologizing to you and being so vulnerable gave you a total rush. It reassured all of your worries that you meant nothing more to Paul than just an employee. You were someone he cared about, and he was finally letting down his walls.

And the way he called you love ignited something inside of you. Deep inside. You tightened your crossed legs.

“I know we aren’t very close, Paul. But I’d like to be. I’m here for you if you need someone, and we all need someone.”

Paul’s chest tightened, his affection for you growing tenfold in that moment.

‘She’s an angel,’ he thought.

Once your wine came, your conversation deepened. Paul, now loosened up a little, talked about himself this time. You came loaded with questions, which he seemed delighted to answer. It didn’t feel like an interview, but like a genuine curiosity about him as a person.

You asked about his childhood. His favorite things to do. What music he listened to. And he gave thorough answers to each of your burning questions.

happy valentine’s day!!! here’s some paulie art

paul in my art: 🥰

- 70s Paul McCartney x reader

- pt. 3 / 7

- fluff/angst/smut

-

-

Paul’s phone rang a single time before he promptly picked it up.

“Hello, this is Paul. Oh yes, hello there, how goes it…”

You held your breath.

“… … … Yes, I know, I know. I really wish I didn’t have to, but what he did was not alright. Wouldn’t stand for it. … … …”

You anxiously bit your lip, heart pounding.

‘Is he talking about what happened with Phil?’

“… … … Now who told you that?” Paul gasped, seemingly embarrassed. He let out an exasperated huff.

“… … … What do you take me for? I didn’t hire her just because she’s got a pretty face; she’s a really sweet girl. Besides, it’s none of your business, is it?” Paul snarled.

You gasped, stood up, and bumped your head on something. It didn’t make much noise, but you still froze in place.

‘Pretty?? Sweet???’ (que background turning pink and sparkly)

Your heart raced even faster than before. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He really reciprocated your attraction? Someone who had been with many women in his time surely had higher standards…. But now it was an undeniable truth. Paul thought you were pretty. However, you weren’t even supposed to know that. You weren’t supposed to be there, in that closet.

“… … … Right. Yes, will do. Take care…”

You heard him hang up the phone and sigh. Then, a looong silence.

Many thoughts floated in Paul’s mind.

‘I s’pose it does look like I’ve hired a hot young girl to be my secretary. I mean, I have. But I’m not a sleaze!’

Paul rubbed his temples with his hand

‘Maybe I am. I can’t even help myself from staring her up and down.’ Paul groaned. ‘No girl has ever made me feel so… So… CONFUSED.’

The singer gripped the edge of his desk and squeezed it with sweaty hands.

‘Normally, I can enjoy a bit of flirting with a girl. Even when I’m not supposed to…’

He turned his head to peer out the window, picturing Jane Asher, his ex-fiancée, in his mind. The image of her walking in on him sleeping with his old mistress, Francie Schwartz, haunted him. He was ashamed that he couldn't control himself, that he needed the gratification. That he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

‘I don’t deserve to have another woman if I'm incapable of controlling my lust. I would just hurt her…’

Suddenly, Paul thought of you, and something sharp struck his heart. An unaddressed feeling lay dormant, entirely unwilling to come to terms with it.

McCartney stood up from his seat abruptly. You heard his footsteps exit the room and disappear. You finally exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You waited a few moments before slowly opening the closet door to let yourself out. You looked around, making sure he was really gone, before hurriedly sneaking out of the man’s office and back to your desk undetected.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By the time 4:45 rolled around, you were exhausted. Your feet were sore from your flats that were a half size too tight, and your breasts were practically begging you to release them from their imprisonment (bra lol.) You wanted to wait to leave until Paul ‘dismissed’ you, so to speak, but hadn’t seen him since earlier. You were starting to get worried.

“It’s about closing time. Bet you’re ready to go home,” you heard Paul’s deep, smooth voice echo throughout the lobby. Every time he spoke, it was like music to your ears despite him not even singing.

You turned your head to him, watching as he approached your desk and leaned forward on it. You stared at his hands, then up his arms to his chest, where the top few buttons of his button-up were undone, then his lips, then his face. The more you looked at him, the more ravenous you became. You blinked the thought away, realizing you had to respond.

Paul picked up on your staring. The was a sparkle of something naughty in your eyes that Paul could recognize from a mile away. Maybe his horniness wasn’t one sided after all??

“Oh wow, 5 o’clock already?” You yawned and stretched your arms. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

Coats in arm, you and Paul made your way out of the grand front doors of the studio. You waited as Paul locked up the doors, and you walked down that long concrete path once more. The evening sun pleasantly warmed your face, and when you looked up at Paul his eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight. He was getting prettier by the second.

Once at the front gate on the side of the main road, you both stopped. This is where you had to say goodbye. Once again, the two of you were faced with this difficult hurdle. Neither of you were going home to a loving family; you were going home to a quiet, empty house. Who would want that?

“So, how’d I do on my first day?” You inquired cheerfully.

“Wonderfully. Best secretary I’ve had by far,” Paul smiled, buttering you up. It was working.

“D’awww, you’re just saying that.”

“No, really! You… Have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“No…” You sighed.

“Neither do I,” Paul admitted.

You avoided eye contact. Both of your heads were telling you to make the obvious decision and hang out, maybe grab dinner. But you were unsure how the other would react. Paul was afraid to come off as too forward; that you would feel like your boss was being predatory. He wanted you to make the first move. And you were afraid to impose, thinking he wouldn’t want to spend time with you outside of when he had to for work. You wanted HIM to make the first move.

You were at an impasse.

You said your goodbyes and begrudgingly made your respective ways home.

.

. (some paul pov)

.

Paul tossed his keys onto his marble entry table without looking, quickly making his way to his living room. He was rushing to take off his coat, and within a few strides it was already thrown onto a recliner. He fell onto his baby blue leather couch with a sigh, resting his arms on top of the cushions and leaning his head back.

Paul stared up at his ceiling for a long time. He was thinking of everything and nothing at the same time. He thought about the continuing inner struggle that he had been battling all day; his attraction to his new secretary.

After months of being unable to pull himself out of a dark hole he felt he had dug, something was finally helping him crawl out. Or rather, someone. For two days in a row now he found himself lying in bed unable to fall sleep because he was thinking about you. Your face. your smile. The way you flipped your hair. The beautiful curves of your chest, waist, and ass.

A deep feeling was growing from within his chest, slowly overcoming him both physically and mentally. It started as a tingle in his core that made its way through the rest of his body. He felt himself grow hot, blood rushing to his cheeks and to his…

“Oh for christ’s sake…” Paul groaned under his breath.

Paul was very familiar with this thrilling sensation, it was one that once it overtook him he couldn’t control it. This had led to him hurting his lovers in the past, the very reason why he wouldn’t allow himself to feel that way for you. Because not only was he physically attracted to you, but his feelings were intertwined as well. This led to a lot of pent up sexual tension and guilt.

The brunette lifted his head with a furrowed brow and lazily focused his eyes down at his lap. He felt his cock twitch and grow, little by little. He reached his left arm down to lightly grab himself through his pants, squeezing himself as his semi developed into a full on erection.

“Mmmph… Don’t do this…” he whispered.

He disobeyed what had just come out of his mouth, unbuckling his belt and stroking himself through his underwear. Paul shut his eyes tight and tried his damndest to picture you in his mind. There was a fuzzy image of you sprawled out across his desk, crawling on top of him. His cock throbbed, pushing against his cotton underwear.

He thought about the naughty look in your eyes when he leaned up onto your desk. It stroked his ego and reassured his worries knowing that he gave you that sort of reaction. His strokes became faster and he leaned his head back again, losing himself in the pleasant sensation rushing through his body. However, the cotton was becoming uncomfortable. He lifted the underwear off his warm cock, pulling it down and out of the way. He gripped his member and stroked up and down slowly, gradually increasing the pace. Continuing this fantasy, he pictured you straddling him and passionately sticking your tongue down his throat. He tried to visualize you grinding your hips on his bulge, a sigh escaping from his parted lips.

“Fuck… If she knew I was doing this…” he murmured pathetically.

He toyed with the idea that maybe, just maybe, you would enjoy it. That despite how it sounded, your mega-famous boss of 2 days who was thinking about you while waking off was actually sort of hot. He knew he was being unreasonable, but it felt so good that he didn’t even care. All his previous thoughts and worries seemed to have melted away to make this moment all the more enjoyable.

Paul’s breath became shaky as he began to pump faster. And faster. And faster. His face twisted and he bit his lip as the sweet release rapidly built up. He pictured your breasts pressed up against his face as you gripped the back of his head. The sound of your panting and soft moaning. And thats what sent him. With his unoccupied arm he gripped the cushion, fingertips turning white.

All in one moment, his once steady strokes now stuttering and his hips caught in a half-twitching-half-thrusting motion. He moaned your name as a thick warm liquid erupted from his bright pink tip, shooting up onto his shirt and coating his hand entirely. It was raw, it was messy, it was so fucking hot.

Once the feeling washed away Paul was left laying on the couch covered in his own seed, panting and sweating like a dog. That’s when the guilt set in, this time ten fold. He let out a very deep sigh and got up, washing himself off and going right back to his mental battle.