by Skyla Madi
Adrenaline courses through me at the thought of getting caught for something so uncharacteristic. I pause, stilling my mouth and tongue against her soft flesh. This is not appropriate behavior for a Vice President of a billion dollar company. This is not appropriate behavior for a boss with thousands of employees worldwide. If we’re caught, and the details leaked… it could ruin me. It could ruin everything my father has worked for.
Alix growls as I let her slip from my mouth. “What is it? Why are you stopping?”
With a small pang of disappointment in a hard place I really don’t want to think about, I roll off her.
“We’re not doing this.” I tell her as I fish my phone from my pocket.
Sand sticks to the screen and I bet it’s filtered in between the cracks too. I try to ignore her as she sighs dramatically and conceals her breast behind her top. I type out a quick text to my personal assistant, Jamie. I don’t think I’ve ever bothered him so late before… then again, I pay him enough not to feel bad about it. Jamie texts back almost immediately, telling me he’ll meet me at the steakhouse in twenty minutes. I slip my phone back into my pocket and sit up.
“My PA, Jamie, is coming to pick us up. He’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” She rebuts.
The bitterness in her tone doesn’t pass me by. In fact, it sits rather uncomfortably on my chest. “I’m not leaving you on the beach alone, Alix.”
She shoots me a look—an aggressive look. “Unless you’re going to drag me kicking and screaming all the way back to the steakhouse then yes, you are.”
I set my jaw nice and tight to stop myself from taking her up on her suggestion. It’d be almost too easy to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back, but if that’s not what she wants, fine. She’s not going to get a reaction out of me. I’m a grown ass man and I’m not going to let some… some girl try to make me feel bad. I push myself to my feet.
“You might not have much to lose in the mix of all this, Alix, but I do.”
I turn away from her and head back to the ramp. I kick at the sand as I walk. I’m mad for allowing myself to fall into this mess. I’m mad I let someone like Alix into my head, and I hate the fact she has the power to manipulate me into doing things I’m certain I’d never do. How I let one woman with long brown hair, a snarky attitude and no respect for the comfort of others, completely throw me overboard without a paddle, over and over again, is beyond me. One more dinner, one more lunch and one more intimate moment and I’m done. For the sake of my own sanity, I’m done.
Chapter Eight
Alix
The taxi ride home sucks. The driver has his weird techno music up too loud, the air conditioning on too cold, and the seats are too hard. Who listens to techno anymore, anyway? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a great selection of taxis to choose from. You don’t get many of them out here this time of night. Most of them are patrolling the busier parts of the city looking for drunken people to scam.
I rest my head against the window and sigh. I hate myself—not because I let Jesse put my nipple in his mouth—no, that was fun. I hate myself because I didn’t think to bring a book with me. I should have known he’d bail on me and, quite frankly, I’m pissed he took it so far and then freaked out. That’s twice now I’ve been disappointed by him. Twice.
Even as the driver nears my apartment, I replay the moment between Jesse and me, over and over. A stupid idea, really. The more I think the about it, the more dissatisfied I feel.
Although he didn’t say what bothered him, I know exactly what it was. He doesn’t like public displays of ‘affection’. He prefers discretion. It’s his father, his career and his inability to enjoy himself that ruin all of our intimate moments. Despite that—despite his refusal to open up sexually—I still want to try. I could end this any day. I could pleasure myself, get it over and done with and move on (let’s be honest, it’s always better when you do it yourself anyway).
But…
That would be too easy, and as a woman, the easy road is something I mentally tend to bypass. And besides, no great romance can occur if one person takes the easy way out. I tighten my hands into balls against my thighs. Do I think what Jesse and I have is a budding romance? Is that what I want from Jesse now? I ponder the thought of being in a relationship with him and immediately quash it. Not only is he my boss, but he’s much too uptight and prudish for me. Who doesn’t lose their mind in the throes of passion, and who the hell wears a suit to a steakhouse? I don’t care how fancy the place is; denim fabrics and leather boots are always the way to go. Strangely, I find myself smiling at the fact he showed up in a full two piece suit. He looked good—crazy good—like Tom Hardy on your TV every second of every day kind of good. Jesse is something else entirely—a whole new species of male almost. I’ve never met a man that can arouse me and then piss me off all in the same minute.
As thoughts of him, and Tom Hardy, bombard me one after the other, I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together. It turns out, Jesse O’Ryan and Tom Hardy together in my mind is an aphrodisiac not even the damp smell and crap music of this taxi can destroy. It’s then, as my hormones race around my body and pool in places Jesse has yet to touch properly, I decide tonight is not over.
The driver pulls up outside my apartment and his chin duplicates as he turns his head in my direction. Before he can tell me how much the trip costs, I demand he keep the taxi running. I unclip my seatbelt and practically dive from the car. I don’t bother closing my door, and head for the stairs instead. As I walk, I can’t help the mischievous smile that pulls at my lips. For the first time ever I can finally say, ‘the night is still young’, and feel as sexy as I’m sure Scarlett Johansson does when she plays Black Widow.
***
The Tempt Hotel is quiet, much quieter than it’d been when I was working this morning. I pull on the hood of my black coat to shield more of my face as I make my way through the lobby. I don’t want to risk the security crew or the employees seeing me… which is kind of stupid now I think about it. If I don’t want what Jesse and I have to be exposed, then this is the last place I should’ve come. On second thought, no good story starts with following the rules; just ask Rose Hathaway (who has broken more rules than any other heroine). Her story was epic… and not as stressful on her sexual organs, I’m sure.
Luckily for me, I learned which room Mr. Jesse O’Ryan was staying in while he was away for a few days. I’m not proud of snooping, but I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I’d be running around like a chicken without a head right about now. With my head down, I manage to make it to an elevator. After I press the button to the penthouse suite, I hide in the corner with my back to the door just in case someone who knows me hitches a ride.
I swallow hard as my heart beats rapidly in my chest. I’ve never been so nervous about anything before. My palms sweat, my stomach churns, and my throat dries. This, whatever I’m doing, is a bad idea. The beach didn’t end on good terms. He probably doesn’t even want to see me right now—not after the attitude I gave him. Then the real thoughts kick in. What if he’s sleeping? What if he has company already? Not the sexual kind, of course, but someone important? When we first met, he was finishing up at a meeting and that was only slightly earlier than it is now. I contemplate pressing another button, and riding the elevator back down to the first floor until I remember just how much I spent on this underwear set. It’s in blue, too. Outside of this occasion, I know I’ll never wear it again.
Finally, the elevator dings and the doors pull open. I peer over my shoulder at the white double doors at the end of the hall. In all my years of working here, I’ve never ventured this far up. In fact, I rarely go past the lounge bar.
I drag in an unsteady inhale and push forward, despite my legs best efforts to freeze up on me. As I reach the door, I pause and listen. Through the wood, I hear a low murmur. Jesse talks, but there are no responses, or at least none that I can hear, so I knock on the door. It’s too soft for him to
hear the first time, but when I knock the second time, I’m certain those two floors down can hear it. I cringe, hoping it didn’t sound too demanding. A few minutes pass and the door opens. I try not to gape as he stands before me in a tight, white tee and the black slacks he wore to dinner. The shirt tightens over his bicep as he holds his cell phone to his ear. His brown eyes are wide, but tired as he surveys my black, hooded coat. All nervousness I felt earlier drains from my body and is replaced by sheer determination.
“Alright. Yes. Look, I’m going to have to call you back.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “No, I know it’s important, but something has just come up.” He exhales and steps to the side to let me in. “I’m sure it can wait till morning.”
I slip inside of his suite and again, I try not to gawk at all of the nice stuff. It’s clean too… outstandingly clean. While it looks a lot like the other rooms in the hotel, it’s much bigger and the furniture is much, much more expensive.
“Yes, Peter. I am taking this seriously,” Jesse declares as he shuts the door behind me.
I twirl on the spot, analyzing all of the beautiful things. Beautiful white, stone ornaments adorn shelves on the wall and decorate low set tables. I could never bring such a gorgeous piece of embellishment home. Four loves to jump and walk along small edges. It’d become a not-so-expensive pile of dust on the floor in minutes.
I slip out of my black flats and kick them to the side. The carpet beneath my feet is comfier than any surface I’ve ever stood on. Jesse stalks across the room and into the living room. I follow him and watch as he approaches a sleek corner bar, grabs a bottle that shines like crystal and pours its contents into a small glass. He holds it out to me and I take it. The effects of the wine have long since worn off, so having a little whiskey to take the edge off won’t hurt. I press the cool glass to my lips, open my mouth and pour it down the hatch. The liquid burns my throat, but I don’t stop till it’s all gone. As I hand Jesse the glass and he takes it, his brows furrow.
“Peter,” he says sternly. “I’m going to have to call you back in the morning.” His fingers tighten around my glass and he turns to look out the large window behind the bar. “It’s late. What do you expect me to do right now? The system is offline until the morning.”
I finger the buttons on my coat, one by one. They make no sound as they open and expose my warm skin. Jesse, still wrapped up, and growing increasingly frustrated by his conversation, continues to look out the window. As I open the last button and shrug out of my coat, he glances over his shoulder. Even on his countenance, I see his heart stop, stutter and then pick up at an erratic pace. It’s nice to know the blue piece I bought at Victoria Secret wasn’t a waste of money after all. His suddenly hungry eyes roam me from head to toe as I stand in front of the couch in nothing but his favorite color. Heat blooms between my legs and I lower myself onto the couch. With a light expel of air, I run a finger along the hem of my panties, teasing him and myself.
“Peter,” he warns the man on the phone again and my lips pull at the sudden hoarseness in his voice, “I have something more important I need to take care of right now before it gets out of hand.”
I smile and bite my lower lip as I slip a finger under the fabric. Panic flashes ever so briefly over Jesse’s face and it’d be a lie if I said it didn’t turn me on. I pull my panties to the side and run two fingers over my wet center. I gasp at the sudden friction—a friction I haven’t felt in a long time because of the man in front of me. I circle my little bundle of nerves. I’m so turned on, so needy for him, I’m soaked instantly. I think of the beach and of him between my legs with my nipple in his mouth. I move faster, letting my head drop against the back of the couch. Since he’s on the phone, I try to be quiet. I bite my lip and grit my teeth marveling over how quickly I’m climbing. I fall into a haze and at some point… Jesse ends his conversation. I don’t realize my eyes are closed until I feel large hands on my outer thighs. He kneels and slips his body between my legs and I’m startled by his sudden nearness. I open my eyes, and the sight of his handsome face so close to mine, is enough to throw me over the edge and into the abyss of overwhelming pleasure. With my free hand, I grip his bicep and fall further and further with each torturous second. Against his waist, my legs squeeze him with a weak, shaky grip. His breath is hot and fast on my face and his darkened eyes never leave mine. I feel relieved… my whole body is tired and feeble, but at the same time, my climax is both underwhelming and unsatisfying. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to hold out long enough to coax him into doing it himself. As the effects wear off, the sound of our heavy breathing in the quiet room becomes almost unbearable and I feel an embarrassing heat spread over my face. I shift my position, pulling myself up so that my spine is flush against the back of the couch, and straighten an invisible skirt against my thighs. Perhaps, I didn’t think this through enough… though it wouldn’t be the first time.
I survey Jesse’s face. There’s an intensity I’ve never seen before, and it both thrills and terrifies me.
“If you want to do something, do it.” I tell him, curious for his response.
“I want to do a lot of things.” He replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it wouldn’t be right.”
“Nothing we’re doing is right. Lunches, dinners and an orgasm? Tell me how often a boss and his employee make a deal like that?”
A new found heat rises in the pit of my belly and I can’t ignore it as it forces me to slip closer to Jesse. Lifting my legs, I lock them around his hips and squeeze him closer to me. Through his slacks, I can feel hid hard cock. It presses against my center and it takes everything I have not to grind myself into it.
“There’s no point trying to pretend you’re not doing anything wrong, Jesse. You’re bad—just like me—only I have the balls to admit it, and to do something about it.” I slip my fingers into his hair and pull his face closer to mine—until my bottom lip grazes his. “There’s more to what we’re doing, isn’t there?”
I run my tongue along his dry bottom lip and his breath hitches.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles, and I look him dead in the eyes.
“Figure it out.”
I plant a soft kiss on his lower lip and push on his shoulders. He sits back on the heels of his shoes and watches me, confused as I slide off of the couch and reach for my coat. I try not to make eye contact with him as I slip it on and handle the buttons. I’m confused too. Did I ask him for a relationship? I don’t think so, but I’m sure it can be interpreted that way.
Oh god.
How did he interpret it? I clear my throat and try not to think about it as I turn away from him and march over to my shoes. Without a glance over my shoulder, I slip them on and exit his suite before I can say or do anything else I’m not certain of.
I pull my hood up as I walk to the elevator and as soon as I’m inside and descending the floors one by one, I close my eyes. While I definitely enjoyed myself, I know I should’ve forgone this whole plan and stayed home with a book. You can re-read a chapter, but you can’t redo a real life situation.
Chapter Nine
Jesse
I roll onto my back with a sigh, and glance at the digital clock above the wall mounted flat screen. It’s been two hours since she left and I’m still awake thinking about her, and what she did. I never expected her to show up here; not in a million years. I mean, I’ve dreamt of it, and I’ve imagined it during meetings, but I never thought it would happen. In my imaginings of it, she never had to please herself and she would never orgasm just the once. Over and over I would make her break apart—on my hands, on my tongue, on my cock—fuck! My hard erection aches and I wince as it tents the bed sheets.
Defeated, I reach for my phone off the side table and squint as I unlock it. Despite my better judgment, I scroll down to her name and click the message icon. I hate texting… mostly because I don’t have the time or the patience to read the damn things. Regardless, I type one out anyway.
To:
Alix. Time: 2:24 am
Did you arrive home safe?
I wait barely a minute for her response but the minute seems to drag on forever.
From: Alix. Time: 2:25 am.
I left your place hours ago and you’re texting me that now? Ohh… wait a minute. You’re lying awake in bed, aren’t you?
Her cocky arrogance comes through clearly, even in text, and as badly as I want to ignore her now that I know she’s at home safe… I don’t.
To: Alix. Time: 2.29 am.
I’m not the only one lying awake in bed it seems. What are you doing?
My phone buzzes. Man she texts fast—much faster than I can. I ignore the thrill that zaps my organs as her name flashes up on my screen. In the back of my mind, her previous question nags at me. There’s more to what we’re doing, isn’t there? I suppress it, refusing to think about it right now.
From: Alix. Time: 2:30 am
I think ‘what are you wearing’ is the sexier term… I’m reading. What about you?
To: Alix. Time: 2:34 am.
I’m trying to sleep… trying being the key word. Thanks for that. You should sleep. I checked your schedule. You start early tomorrow.
