Tell Me You Want Me

by Willow Winters

  It only takes one motion from Adrian for the doorman to bring around a taxi for me. The night has fallen dark and the chill brings me closer to Adrian as the car pulls up.

  “Phone.” He says the one word and I hand him my phone without question. Adrian frowns down at the screen while he types something. It’s his number. His fingers fly across the screen. I’ll probably find out he’s sent a text to himself with my number.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, handing it back to me. “Perhaps you’ll give me the opportunity to play with you once the clock strikes six.”

  Adrian

  It takes great effort not to let on that my pants are tight from my little vixen’s text messages. I’m certain Wyatt wouldn’t appreciate that fact.

  With that being said, it’s my office. My meeting.

  And if I want to read the filthy things she’s messaging, I’ll damn well do as I please.

  I’ll have to scold her when I see her. Not now, while she’s working, when I’m not buried deep inside her and she has nowhere to go.

  Scrolling through the last messages she sent, I have to readjust in my seat.

  Suzette Parks has a very dirty mouth and I want to do very dirty things to it.

  It’s work hours, though, so I don’t respond to the three she’s sent me.

  This morning was one thing, and technically I started the “sexting games” as she called it.

  No panties today. I want to fuck you without having to rip them off.

  Yes, sir.

  That’s my good girl.

  You say that now but if you tell me to crawl under your desk, that will be a firm no from me.

  Why do I think you’re lying?

  I remember when I sent the last message, I watched both the clock and the security monitors that kept track of her entering the elevator. It was nearly 9:00 a.m.

  Tell me what you would do then, if I wanted you to keep me company in my office.

  Did I set her up? Fucking right I did. Am I going to fuck her hard and rough to punish her for the unprofessional behavior she’s displayed? Hell yes I am. And we’re both going to enjoy it.

  It’s all talk from her. I know it is. So, scolding her will have to wait.

  “I don’t know, man,” Wyatt says, nudging the container of lo mein closer to me. Piling the bit of it left on his plate onto a white plastic fork he tells me, “I prefer the place on Fifth.”

  “Shing Kwong?”

  He nods, still shoveling the Chinese food into his mouth. Wyatt is tall, lean, and three years younger than me although it feels like there’s a decade between us. He’s naive, positive about far too much and riskier than he should be.

  I didn’t come from money. We were slightly well-off, but not like the Pattons, Wyatt’s family. It shows. He makes deals like there will always be a safety net beneath him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t resentful of it at one time in my life. As the end of a noodle slaps his chin, sauce dripping down his amber skin, the corners of my lips turn up.

  Wyatt is a puppy dog in the elite groups I run in, but he’s damn loyal.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to bring your own takeout next time you decide to swing by then, rather than having Andrea order it.”

  “So I’ll have that contract for you in just a little bit.”

  My brow arches at the very sudden change in topics. “I knew you’d bring it up.”

  He smirks, not looking back at me, and says, “I can’t help it; I’m excited.”

  “I haven’t said I’ll sign, and I’m still waiting on my lawyer to look over the clauses.”

  “It’s been a year in the making,” he comments, finally putting down his plate.

  “I’m not sure it’s the right time right now.”

  It’s silent for a moment and Wyatt finally looks up at me, running his hand over his curly, jet-black hair. It’s cropped close to his scalp with a slight fade on the sides. “’Cause of this,” he says and motions behind him with his thumb.

  Because of the eight-figure company I just bought? Yes. That would be why. Although I’d never admit it out loud. My funds aren’t typically tied up in so many holdings. The timing was right for Holt & Hanover, though. He was desperate and I had the last bit of cash flow I could manage.

  “You know I don’t go into these things lightly.”

  One thick black brow raises as he leans back in the chair, pointing a finger at me. “You know this is a good deal.”

  “It could be a good deal,” I respond, correcting him and before he can say any more, I tell him, “Let the lawyers talk out the details.”

  “They’re minor,” he presses, his insecurity showing as he grips the armrest of the lounge chair. “The merger is going to be a hit and I know you want in on it.”

  I mirror his posture, leaning back in my seat as I ball up my napkin and toss it onto my empty paper plate that’s stained from lunch. “A number of events need to go accordingly.” In this business, there are ebbs and flows. Some people can’t handle the wild swings. Some don’t prepare for the crashes.

  “You sound like my father,” Wyatt quips.

  I merely grunt, checking my phone again and see she hasn’t messaged any more. I’m tempted to send another text regardless. My thumb taps on the desk, my attention very much focused on the last line she sent an hour ago.

  “Who is she?” he asks and I stare back at him blankly.

  “Of all the—” Just as a grin stretches across his face, ready to lay into me, there’s a knock at the door.

  “Come in.” I’m grateful for the interruption.

  “Mr. Bradford,” Andrea says, stepping into the room. If it weren’t for the faint wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, she’d look two decades younger than she is.

  “Andrea could look it over?” Wyatt suggests and then huffs a laugh.

  “She looks over all my contracts,” I’m quick to tell him. She may only hold the title of secretary, and she looks the part, but Andrea Anderson is sharp and has a legal background that could rival the best. Times were different back then and instead of a firm, or the head of an academic department, Andrea left law altogether and I was lucky enough to meet her before someone else got ahold of her.

  “Sir.” Andrea folds her hands in front of her pencil skirt. “Your one o’clock is seated in the conference room.”

  All traces of humor are gone and dread seeps in.

  “Thank you, Andrea.” As I stand, Wyatt watches me button my jacket and take a mint.

  Everything feels stiff and uncomfortable.

  The moment the door closes gently, Andrea disappearing behind it, Wyatt comments, “Uh-oh. I’m guessing someone is about to get a harsh scolding from their new CEO.”

  I huff a humorless laugh, striding around him and tossing what’s left of lunch into the trash.

  “Can you clean up on your way out?”

  “Yeah, you all right?” he questions as I open the door and glance through to the conference room. There’s a reason there’s only one office up here and then that room.

  I get a glimpse of some of the employees seated around a table, my hand still on the doorknob. My hand is clenched so tight, my knuckles have gone white.

  “You going to fire someone?” Wyatt makes another guess and this time he’s right. I look over my shoulder to inform him, “An entire department. A very inefficient, very much unneeded department.” I feel sick to my stomach just saying it. Knowing how in a single meeting I’ll change their lives forever. But it’s the right decision. The company is bleeding money with these cookie-cutter executives. Their pay increased while tasks were delegated and as the company grew, their roles diminished as new employees took on tasks that came with new demands. A dozen men and women walked into this building today overlooking tasks they barely comprehend.

  “Shit,” Wyatt says and he doesn’t hold back on the misery. “I know if you’re doing it, it must be done.” His large brown eyes look sympathetic
.

  “Tell that to them.”

  Suzette

  Adrian is most of the reason I couldn’t sleep. Those dreams were too hot to forget and they made me twist and turn in the sheets until morning. There was plenty to keep my mind occupied between replaying what happened on his office desk and the way he treated me after. The man himself is a whirlwind and I can barely hold on. There’s an ache between my thighs still, even though it’s been hours and hours.

  The tall macchiato does nothing to help the bags under my eyes, but with a deep breath in, I prepare to make my way to my office like nothing happened.

  Stepping foot inside feels illicit in a way it never did before. I’ve always come in with my chin up, ready to do battle for another day. Today that kick-ass persona is nowhere to be found. It’s somewhere between a childish puppy dog love and the feelings that accompany the walk of shame.

  In all those hours of tossing and turning, I came to one conclusion: I have, what feels like, a crush. Back in high school I used to get this fluttering-heart feeling for some of the guys in my class … that ended less than well. Pining after men in college led to my ex-husband. So all of these feelings can fuck off. It’s against everything I stand for to have that kind of feeling for Adrian. It’s forbidden to have sex with your boss on his desk. It’s wrong to daydream about it so much you lose focus on your work.

  It’s a no go. A hard pass. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t text him the second he messaged me. Those giddy little feelings are my kryptonite. I suppose there’s always an exception to every rule and Adrian Bradford is just that: exempt from every boundary I’ve spent years defining. Even as I sit at my desk, the tapping of keys and hushed chatter around me, I can barely keep from looking toward the elevator. All I want to know is if he’s up there. I want to know if he can’t stop thinking about what happened on his desk either.

  Hours pass slowly through the day until I get a text message from him at four. His name on my phone makes the temperature of my body kick up a notch. I swallow hard, trying to subdue it all.

  Adrian: Meet me at the elevator at six.

  The hours went by slowly before but now they drag on and on, each tick of the clock taking forever. I stare at my computer screen, rereading every email twice. Triple-checking my responses to clients and sending back nearly every design I’m given from the graphics department. Not because they need changing or that they don’t fit the branding for said clients. But simply because I can’t focus and there’s no way in hell I’m approving anything when all I keep imagining is my boss’s expression when he calls me good girl.

  At four fifteen there’s a meeting in one of the smaller conference rooms downstairs. It’s all I can do not to stare at Adrian through the large paned windows. In the glances I do steal, he appears less than thrilled. Every expression is dour as they leave one by one, Adrian leaving last and not looking back.

  At ten to five, half a dozen executive assistants and senior executive assistants, some of whom I know but most I don’t, move through the office in a clump. It’s a relief that something has happened to break up the routine of the day.

  “Fired,” Gail whispers to me. I nearly spill my coffee when she does. I didn’t realize she was standing so close, also spying.

  “What?” I question. I’ve known Gail for years now. She’s a damn good resource for client retention, but also the lead watercooler gossip. “Did you say fired? Are you sure?”

  Nodding, she sweeps her curly dark brown hair back over one shoulder and then holds her coffee cup with both hands. In heels and leaning against the wall, the modelesque Latina in her late twenties towers over me. “I bet there will be an email going out soon.”

  All of them? Fired? She leaves me with a sick feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach as she bids her farewell. “It’s what he does. No one should be surprised.”

  I know he has a reputation, but how the hell can a company run if every executive is severed?

  Not long after that, an assistant director, Daniel Prath, who I spotted in the conference room earlier, has a screaming fit at the elevators with another man I don’t know. Including the phrases, “this company would have gone under without me” and “good luck staying in business.”

  They must be fired, then.

  Although the whispers that spread, in part largely to Gail, include fears of the company running with so many leads laid off at once, most don’t mind seeing them leave. I’m certain a few who were under the executive assistant in finance will cheer in celebration to that prick’s departure. All I ever heard about him were complaints.

  It doesn’t take more than an hour to pass before there’s a conclusion among the majority of whispers: Those men encompass all that is wrong with the corporate world. They let people go rather than compensating them in the manner they should have been paid. They hired new employees and paid them less, pushing more onto everyone else’s plate. They demanded more and more from all of us, wanting everyone to take one for the team while increasing their bonuses every year.

  It’s not good for a business to run that way, and it’s not good for people to live that way. The management here uses up employees until they break, then fires them and starts over. They’ve never acknowledged or paid their respects to the employees who made the company what it is.

  And now they’re walking out the door.

  Five o’clock comes and nearly everyone is gone already. Most taking the day off to “readjust” to new procedures from their higher-ups. I stay, like I always do. The last hour, when everyone’s left and it’s quiet, when the emails stop and calls go to voicemail, are my most productive. Judging by Adrian’s statement yesterday, and his message from today, six is when the clock strikes midnight for him as well.

  Somehow, that makes those giddy, girly feelings all the headier.

  It’s six on the dot when I press the silver button with the arrow icon pointing downward for the elevator. I don’t know how I’m able to stand upright, with the nervousness that runs through me.

  It isn’t like me, none of this is. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t thrilling.

  When the doors open, my heart races at the sight in front of me. Adrian is already there waiting for me. Forcing myself to move slowly so he doesn’t see my anxiousness, I move to his side and turn to face the doors. “I expect there will be a company-wide email shortly,” I say to him as if it’s casual conversation. We both stare straight ahead, the doors still open, making each second pass by at an achingly slow rate.

  “Why is that?” He moves to press the button for the foyer and I note the way his bespoke suit wraps around his broad shoulders. And the way he fills the not-so-small cabin with his presence alone.

  “I hear heads will be rolling.”

  As the elevator door closes, he smirks at me, a devilish look that brings an overwhelming heat to my cheeks. The elevator begins its descent and he asks, “Is that the talk at the watercooler?”

  “More like the profanity Prath screamed on his way out.”

  He chuckles, then reaches for the button again. One strong knuckle pushes in the emergency stop button.

  Tick, tick, tick, my heart rages in my chest. Desire fills me, moving over my skin and pinning me in place. I should know better than to do this but I don’t. He’s a fantasy come to life and I won’t deny myself. How could a lowly sinner say no when the devil himself tempts her?

  Confined in a small space together with no way out unless he decides and presses that button … all I feel is want and desire.

  With one decisive stride, Adrian towers over me and personal space is nonexistent. My heel slips back half a step before I think better of it. He was calm and collected when I stepped onto the elevator, but now his eyes burn with a hunger I know all too well. With my next breath, the scent of his cologne fills my lungs.

  “I’ve had a rather difficult day,” he rasps. “And it’s well after six p.m.”

  He pushes me against the wall all at once and it’s just li
ke when he put me on top of his desk. Reasoning becomes impossible and pushing him away is even more unlikely. Adrian slides my dress up, his hands hot and his touch sending every nerve ending beneath it into flames.

  His hands roam in every place I’ve thought of him touching, of him claiming, since I left him last night. He’s rough and commanding, gripping my curves and devouring my neck with openmouthed kisses. Every sensation is ignited and all I can do is hold on. With my arms around his shoulders, I can barely breathe, the heat suffocating me.

  I don’t doubt he’s missed this as much as I have. Maybe he did spend his day like I did, obsessed with the idea of continuing what we started yesterday.

  With ease he spreads my legs, standing between them and undoes his buckle. My back is pressed against the hard metal. I hook my knee around his hip and drop my head back against the elevator wall. “Suzette,” he growls against my neck. It’s even hotter now in the small space, because of how much I want him and because of the need in his voice.

  He strokes his fingers between my legs, teasing me and I can barely stand it. “You were hot and bothered all night, weren’t you?” he says, his piercing gaze staring deep into mine. He smirks while he asks the question, confident that he’s right.

  “No, I barely thought of you.”

  He chuckles at my response and then calls me a liar as two of his thick fingers push inside of me. “Tell me how much you want me.”

  “I want you,” I moan, and rock as much as I can to feel more of him inside of me.

  When he tsks, stilling his motions, I open my eyes. “Uh, uh, uh. If you’re going to move your hips like that, it won’t be for anything but me.”

  He takes his cock in his fist and lines it up with my wet slit, then thrusts in. The movement is so hard and controlling that it takes my breath away. I gasp at the size of him and he pauses, buried deep inside of me, as I adjust to his girth.

  “That’s my good girl,” he says in a breathy voice against my neck. It doesn’t take long for him to move again, and I meet him with every thrust, my heels digging into his ass.