by K. D. Black
After I’ve switched back and forth between her rose buds a few times, the pressure releases and Brooke suggestively wriggles her hips.
I want what she wants more than she does. Kissing my way down her stomach, I slowly work off her jean shorts as I go down. And, since I’m impatient, the moment the shorts disappear into the darkness of the floor next to the bed, her underwear follows.
For the first time, I can see Brooke—all of her. She’s silky smooth and her lips are like folded origami that just needs a slight touch to reveal what’s hidden inside. Just looking at her most womanly spot makes the little instinct-driven me almost unbearably hard.
Maybe I’m masochistic, but I usually like to take things slow during sex. Drag it out, make it last, enjoy every second as long as I can force myself to wait.
I can't hold back with Brooke. Everything about the lithe, feminine body beneath me is so seductive, so alluring, that all I want to do—all I can focus on doing—is feeling what she’s like on the inside.
My fingers pull her apart and my tongue swirls around her opening, then plunges into her. I have to move my hands to her hips to hold her in place as she moans and moves her hips, urging me to fuck her with my tongue.
“You taste so good,” I whisper into her as I take a second to breathe. Without warning, I start to lick and suck at her sweet little pearl.
“O-oh God, H-Hayden!” Her words come out as broken gasps between licks. A weight falls around my neck as her thighs lock me in place.
After a few moments of employing all the little tricks I know, her movements are getting desperate and I know she’s close. I redouble my efforts with my tongue and, at the last moment, slip two finger inside her.
Her back arches, her hands grip fistfuls of bedding and dig painfully into my arm, and for a few seconds I can’t breathe as her thighs contract around my neck.
For a moment we both lay there, gasping, but Brooke isn’t done. She scoots out from under me, pushes me onto my back, and goes to work exploring the hard curves of my abs and chest with her lips, tongue, and hands.
She places her knees on either side of my hips, deliberately grinding her wetness into my arousal as she alternates between trailing her fingers and nails across my body. All I can see is Brooke’s hair sweeping across my chest as she kisses me, her round, hanging globes swaying as she slowly drives me insane with lust and desire.
Then, one hand wraps around my length and the other pulls at my sweatpants and underwear. I raise my hips slightly to make them easier to remove, and my breath hitches at the friction between her hand and my manhood at the movement.
Now, it’s my turn to grip the bedcovers as Brooke slowly wraps her lips around me. She teases at first with gentle, slow kisses and licks, then senses my near desperation and takes as much of me into her mouth as she can. Just as she establishes a steady rhythm, she stops and leans her weight against my chest. “Fuck me,” she whispers into my ear.
A girlish shriek tears from her mouth as I flip us over before she finishes speaking. I kiss her neck as I line myself up at her slippery folds. We both gasp as I push myself inside, and her walls contract around my member and intensify the pleasure.
My hips start moving, slowly at first, but gaining speed, passion, and rhythm as the sounds Brooke makes beneath me drive all other thoughts out of my head, all except one—release.
“Brooke—” The word tears from my throat. We cum at the same time, both of our bodies tensing, then relaxing as one. For a moment, I just lay half on top of Brooke, listening to my heavy breathing matched by her own, then I pull out of her and roll onto my back beside her.
After we just lay there for a moment, remembering how to breathe, Brooke scoots closer to me and lays her head on my chest. “That was….”
“Amazing,” I finish. The passion is gone, replaced by a blossoming affection I’ve never felt before. “You’re amazing.”
Brooke smiles, tracing lazy circles on my chest. “I scratched you,” she murmurs as her fingers touch a raised welt.
“And it felt really fucking good.” I kiss the top of her head, breathing in deeply.
She smiles sleepily, her eyes drifting shut. I don't know how I can ever take my eyes off of her, but eventually, I too slip into the best slumber I’ve had in a long time.
Chapter Eleven: Brooke
Footsteps echo from around the corner of the hallway on the clean white floors. Nearly tripping over my own feet, I fall through the closest door. A cart of cleaning supplies and I squeak as one, but I manage to avoid falling yet again and pull the door closed behind me.
The shoes approach the door, flit across the gap at the bottom of the door, and fade away.
Sighing, I blindly search for the door handle. Emerging into the light blinking like a bear out of hibernation, I glance after the steps, but their owner has disappeared.
I don’t know if it was Hayden, but the shoes were definitely men’s dress shoes. At the moment, I don't need anything more than that to duck into the nearest dark corner.
I hate this. Well, a specific part of this. Not even that, actually. Just one single choice that I made.
Sleeping with a man I’m not technically involved with isn’t a new thing for me; I don't consider that a mistake and I don’t regret having sex with Hayden. Finding out information on Hayden, getting to know him better—in other words, the things I promised my father I’d do—none of those things had been a factor in my choice.
I’d wanted Hayden for myself and for my own reasons, no one else’s. Even so, I already have bitter, bitter regrets.
Why, oh why, did I have to run out this morning? I missed a chance when I snuck out of Hayden’s penthouse, and now I don’t know how to get it back.
Everything happened so fast last night. Hayden kissed me, then I kissed him back, then I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him to stop—I didn’t want him to stop. But then afterward, we were exhausted, we fell asleep….
And I never got a chance to ask him why, because I when I woke up, remembered where I was, and saw Hayden’s firm, muscular chest rising and falling steadily beside me, I just grabbed my clothes and slunk away like a scolded dog.
Now, I can barely even look Hayden in the eyes. I just stand there long enough for him to tell me what to do, then excuse myself and jump into my work before the question in his eyes can burn a hole through my soul. I hear the caution in his voice every time he speaks to me, and he’s even been failing all day to be his usual dickish, commanding, alpha-male boss self.
And I have no clue if I want Mr. Nicholson back or if I want Hayden to stay.
If I hadn’t run off, maybe I’d at least know what Hayden wanted. He’d told me I was amazing, but that could mean just about anything, coming from a guy. Is my body amazing? Is sex with me amazing? Or am I—everything about me, in other words—amazing?
I may not know the answer to any questions my overactive mind has proposed so far, but I do know one thing: everything about my promise to my father, this job, and Hayden Nicholson has just gotten a thousand times more complicated.
Because last night wasn’t enough. I want more, so much more of Hayden. But I have a plan, and this was part of it. Maybe not the sex, but I managed to gain Hayden’s trust and his… affection? Obsession? Either way, some sort of feelings for me had gotten me into his penthouse, and if I’m still sticking to the plan….
I should tell my father about the letter with the Cyrillic writing and official-looking seal I saw last night on the kitchen counter. Even the quick glances I managed to sneak of it while Hayden wrote information in on the form had been enough to tell me the contents of the typed document were probably in Russian.
Having illegitimate, overseas accounts has been the downfall of plenty of CEOs, and I happen to know AutoVS doesn’t operate in Russia. This letter could end my search for information, promote my father to CEO, and save NYAR.
The idea of telling my father about it makes me feel physically sick.
Back in my office, I glance at the time. It’s 4:56 and I get off at 5:30, so I only need to avoid Hayden for another short half-hour.
A knock sounds on my door. I wish I could tell the owner of it to leave because I’m busy, but since I know I can’t, I call out, “Come in!”
Hayden enters before I even finish the first word. I click to the calendar on my screen so I have an excuse not to look at him. “Can you send out a couple emails to the list of applicants for the IT department? It’s split into two lists, those chosen for second interviews and those we’ve decided don’t fit the position.”
“Schedule second interviews and let the others know they won’t be a good fit for the company,” I sum up. “Can I send the emails from home, Mr. Nicholson? I’d like to leave a little early, if you don’t need me for anything else.”
“Brooke,” he starts, reaching for my arm, but I stand quickly and grab my purse and jacket.
“Thank you, Mr. Nicholson,” I say formally before I practically run out of the office, knowing he’ll just nod without saying “you’re welcome” anyway.
I just can’t talk to him here, not surrounded by the walls of the corporation’s building. Here, Hayden is my boss, I’m his assistant, and I feel like if I don't keep things professional within AutoVS walls, I’ll lose the only sense of normalcy I have left.
During the ride back home, I watch the passers-by, cyclists, and cars as I always do. This time, however, the hot sting of tears pricks at the corners of my eyes.
Angrily, I swipe at my eyes, take a few breaths, and control myself. Why shouldn’t their lives go on as usual? Hadn’t I said just last night that the city is beautiful?
“How was work?” Dad asks absentmindedly, glasses trained on a notepad on his lap.
“Good.”
“Did you come home last night? I didn’t hear you.” His eyes follow me into the kitchen.
“No. I stayed at Sam’s.” I’ve had this lie ready all day.
“Oh.” He goes back to his notepad, brows drawn together and tired.
Seeing him this way finally tilts the favor of my conflicted mind. I’m sticking to the plan. “Found something out about Hayden,” I say, trying to inject a little enthusiasm into my voice.
“Really?” Dad takes off his glasses as I sit down beside him on the couch.
“Yeah. Yesterday, I took a form for him to sign to his penthouse. Before I left for Sam’s, I saw a letter with an official seal, and I think it was written in Russian.”
Dad surges to his feet and paces the room, his excitement genuine and much more palpable than my own. “A letter in Russian! This could be exactly what I need. Was there anything you recognized about it? Any English you could read?”
“No,” I admit. “And the address side was upside down, against the counter.” Damn it, I just realized that I could have stopped to look at the letter more thoroughly on my way out this morning.
I’ll just add that to my list of wasted chances, shall I?
“Hayden does speak and read Russian, so I doubt any of it would be in English.” Deep in thought, Dad leans against the couch. “Without seeing it and getting it translated, there’s no way for me to know if I can use it. Just informing the board that Hayden has a Russian contact won’t be enough—especially since he speaks the language.” Dad trains his serious gaze on me. “Do you think you can get back into his apartment and take the letter?”
I expected this question too. “I think so. It might take me a couple days to find a way, though.”
“The longer you wait, the more likely it’ll be gone,” my father warns me. “If it is something that could hurt his position as CEO, he won’t leave it lying around for long.”
“I know. I’ll figure something out.” The promise echoes hollowly, spoken through the hesitancy in my heart.
“I know. You’re so close, Brookie,” he adds earnestly. “I can’t wait to give you a position in AutoVS you really deserve.”
“And save New Yorkie Animal Rescue,” I add meaningfully.
“Of course, honey.”
Sad puppies and kittens. I head back to my room, shed my clothes down to my underwear and bra, and flop on my bed. Sad puppies and kittens.
But happy puppies and kittens mean sad Hayden.
For the first time, I lay in the cool darkness of my bedroom, stare up at the ceiling fan, and really, really think about what I’m doing. If I succeed in my plans and Dad becomes CEO, I’ll ruin Hayden’s life. Everything he did in the past to start up the company, every sacrifice he made for it, every choice he struggled to make for AutoVS—I would take that all away from him.
Even for NYAR, Ashley, and the sad puppies and kittens… am I prepared to do that? Can I even do that?
When I agreed to help my father, I didn’t know Hayden. When my doubts began to surface, my father talked them back into the depths of my mind, and I agreed with what he said at the time. Now, I don’t think I believe Hayden needs to be replaced.
Hayden doesn’t micromanage for the fun of it or because he has nothing better to do—he does it because he expects the best from every employee and he cares deeply about the quality of work done by AutoVS. He avoided hiring an administrative assistant for so long because he didn't want to put so much trust into another person, not because he thought his methods of scheduling and such were better. The moment I proved to him that I could handle myself and do my job, he backed off and he let me. I was just too caught up with his irascible and impolite attitude to notice.
Hayden is a good guy, and not just because he’s handsome, muscular, and good in bed.
My heart refuses to open the floodgates and allow the guilt to spill in, no matter how much logic my mind pounds against it. I’ve known Hayden for like two weeks. I’ve volunteered at NYAR and known the people and animals there for years and years.
In a battle of the heart, NYAR beats Hayden. I have to do this. I have no other choice.
The plan is the only way, and for tomorrow, I have an idea how to put it into motion.
Chapter Twelve: Hayden
It’s about 6:45 AM, and I’m sitting on my balcony with a hot cup of coffee in my hands. The sun commenced its daily appearance over the horizon about 30 minutes ago, and now the blinding circle has just cleared the tops of the most distant and highest buildings. The air hasn’t yet heated to the smothering temperature of a late August morning, and a cool, gentle breeze ghosts across my bare chest.
I’m actually slightly chilled, but I know that the moment I go inside and put on a shirt, the rays of light that bathe my torso and closed eyelids will lose their wanness and become a scorching, unforgiving coat of heat.
Anyway, if I keep my eyes closed like this and forget where I am, I can imagine that the touch of the wind is Brooke trailing her fingers across my skin.
I had expected one of two outcomes from the night before last, but I’d been hoping for one. Either sleeping with Brooke would leave me satisfied the next morning, meaning my feelings for her had just been a brief obsession that had passed, or…
Or I’d realize that I can’t lose Brooke. The agony crushing my heart from her clear desire to avoid me yesterday ruled out brief obsession. I don’t know how or when, but sometime over the past few weeks, I started genuinely caring for Brooke.
And two nights ago, I might have ruined everything.
Yes, I had wanted Brooke so badly I thought my muscles would snap if I didn’t do something, but I hadn’t just been an insatiable animal. If Brooke had ever told me to stop, or said “no”, or shown any signs of not wanting me at all, I would have listened.
But she said nothing. Actually, better—she asked me to show her what else I wanted to do. And I want to do so much more with Brooke. That night, I would have sworn she wanted everything we did just as much as I did.
Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, I woke up that morning to find her gone, and at work, I could hardly get her to say full sentences to me, and I was always “Mr. Nicholson”.
I dr
ain my coffee cup, leave it on the table for housekeeping to deal with, and begin my morning routine of getting ready for work.
The entire time I’m preparing to leave, my eyes keep fixing on various places in my apartment. The wraparound counter in the kitchen, the chairs and table visible through the glass door leading to the balcony, the rustic, king-sized bed— Brooke had touched all these places, and the ghost of her presence remains in each of them, reminding me of a chance I probably destroyed. The speed at which I get ready to leave gradually increases until I slam the door behind me, leaving the mocking what-could-have-beens behind.
I’m going to talk to Brooke today and she’s going to talk to me. I’ll corner her in her office, order her as her boss, get on my knees and beg—okay, maybe I’m not ready to stoop to the last level yet. Almost no matter what it takes, I’m going to find out what that night meant to Brooke.
After the ride to the building in my new AutoVS model and a second, vertical ride up the elevator to my office, a comforting thought soothes my mind. She would have just quit her job if she couldn’t handle what I did, right? Right. Right….
Businesslike knuckles rap on my office door. “Come in,” I say, shaking the weights of worry off my shoulders so I can sit up straighter.
Brooke lets herself in. “I sent those emails you requested last night,” she tells me, stepping just inside onto the luxurious rug. “I’ll be receiving calls and emails over the next few days and scheduling those second interviews for you.”
I couldn’t care less about the interviews. “Brooke—”
Brooke cuts me off again, but this time not by excusing herself. A thrill runs through me as she shuts the door behind her and steps closer to my desk. “Hayden.”
