Unsatiated with Dad's Best Friend: Taboo Romance

by Ami Snow

  ***

  I rolled out of bed before my alarm even went off the next morning, excited to get started at work. I had my clothes already laid out from the night before, a pair of wide-legged black pants, black heels, a cream silk shell and a black blazer. Very business-like, plain and serious. I pulled my hair back into a bun, applied some light foundation, mascara and lipstick, and slipped my ruby earrings on. I appraised my reflection in the mirror. Did I look like a girl on her first real day of work? I looked much more experienced, I decided.

  I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs to catch a taxi. In the future, I’d take a bus or walk in sensible shoes until I got to work, but the first day definitely deserved a taxi. I watched the morning commuters go past as we weaved through traffic, already thinking ahead to what I would need to do for the day.

  I was one of the first ones in the office. I’d just set down my bag at my new desk and sat down when a bright-eyed girl popped up, iPhone in hand. “What coffee would you like?” she chirped, and I had a sudden wave of unreality. This had been me, just a few months ago. Now an intern was getting my coffee. It all seemed very strange. “A large French vanilla iced coffee,” I said. “Whole milk.” The girl jotted it down on her phone and scurried off, and I watched her go, feeling as if I needed a minute to let the transition sink in.

  She’s probably gotten Ethan’s coffee this morning, too. The thought startled and surprised me. For one, it made no sense. I’d only gone outside of accounting because of my unusual relationship with Ethan. Otherwise, I would never have interacted outside of my department. For another, what did I care who got his coffee? Even if we had been a couple—which we weren’t—I was a full-fledged professional woman now. I didn’t fetch coffee, not even Ethan’s. I felt slightly disgusted with myself for that flash of jealously. I pushed the button to boot up my computer a little harder than was strictly necessary, feeling generally irritated. This wasn’t how I’d wanted to start my first day off at all.

  To my additional frustration, I spent a good portion of the 9 a.m. meeting wondering if Ethan would pop in. I needed to get a grip. This was precisely why I’d been reluctant to accept a job in his company. How much of my days would be spent thinking of him in his office, behind that desk, wondering when or if he might pop into meetings. I just would have thought he’d want to see how things were going on my first day, I thought, which only served to make me more irritable. Thankfully, no one seemed to expect me to comment yet on anything, which was good, considering my state of mind.

  As I was exiting the conference room post-meeting, I was so wrapped up in my jumble of thoughts that I nearly ran directly into Ethan, who was standing in the hall. “Ethan!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that a couple of employees glanced in our direction, and I coughed, trying to cover up my slip. “Mr. Sharpe. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  He looked down at me with a flicker of amusement. “Not a problem. I wanted to see how your first day was going, Ms. Matthews.”

  I winced at the inflection on my name. “It’s going well enough,” I said, trying to hide my general mood. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sharpe.”

  “I make it a point to know how all of my employees are doing,” he answered genially.

  “I should be getting back to my desk,” I replied, entirely uninterested in getting caught in his banter. “Have a good day.”

  I turned and headed down the hall before he could say anything else. I wasn’t a bit surprised when my phone vibrated a few moments after I’d sat back down.

  You’re very brusque this morning.

  How else, exactly, should I react when I nearly run into the CEO? I replied, hoping the message came across as crisp as I felt. I was in no mood.

  You can call me Ethan.

  Not in front of other employees.

  If we were dating it wouldn’t matter.

  If we were dating, it would be nepotism, and probably against company policy.

  It’s my company. I make the policy.

  I huffed a sigh at that, pushing my phone aside. I should cancel the date, I thought, but I knew I wouldn’t. He could irritate me all he liked between now and then, but I knew I wouldn’t cancel the date.

  Chapter 3

  Ethan

  That Friday evening, I must have looked through five different outfits before settling on one. I wanted to look different than I usually did at the office. Sophisticated, but relaxed. Handsome, but approachable. I wanted Elizabeth to feel comfortable, as if she were on a date with anyone. Not her CEO.

  So I picked out a pair of dark brown pants and a navy pinstriped button-down in a soft fabric that looked worn-in and vintage. I added a plain leather watch, and looked in the mirror, hoping that I looked like any other guy in D.C. taking a girl out on a Friday night.

  The driver probably didn’t do much for that image, I reflected, as I slid into the car and we pulled out into traffic. It certainly didn’t reflect the “average guy” image that I was hoping for.

  I wasn’t an average guy, though. And if Elizabeth ever did finally start to date me, I’d want to take her to nice restaurants and expensive plays, out to exclusive parties and bars. I’d want to bring her home to my penthouse loft and make love to her in my expensive bed. I’d want to buy her presents for holidays that she couldn’t afford to buy herself. I didn’t want her to be put off by my lifestyle, I wanted her to enjoy it. I wasn’t sure what about that was so difficult.

  The driver pulled up to the curb of the address she’d given me, and I couldn’t help but frown. She’d picked an area that wasn’t too bad, thank goodness, and I’d heard that a lot of young professionals were moving to this area, so it would pick up soon. But I knew these particular apartments were tiny—I’d looked at acquiring the building about a year ago—and I hated the idea of her having to live there. I knew she wanted to go through all the steps, but I could give her so much more.

  I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, she took my breath away. She was wearing a knee length skirt in a blue pattern, and a white sheer top tucked in with a camisole underneath. She had on heels, and she’d redone her makeup since work. I noticed the silver hoops in her ears, and wondered how big of a fit she’d throw if I tried to buy her diamond ones for Christmas.

  Probably a pretty big fit.

  “Hi, Ethan,” she said, and I couldn’t believe how good it was to hear her say my name after all of the Mr. Sharpe business at work. I knew she was just trying to be professional, but it irked me to no end. I liked hearing her say my name.

  I took her hand, and she didn’t say a word. My driver held the door open for us, and as the car pulled out into traffic, I turned to her.

  “Thank you for coming on a date with me, Elizabeth.”

  She smiled. “I figured I’d give you a chance.” Her tone was cheeky, and I couldn’t help but smile back, some of my anxiety lifted. “Since this is a date,” I said, “you can’t complain about me paying. No matter where I take you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Just wait and see.”

  Traffic in D.C. on a Friday night is always terrible, and it took nearly twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. When we pulled up, I didn’t have to look at her face to know what she was thinking. I’d gotten reservations at one of the most exclusive French restaurants in town.

  “Please, Elizabeth,” I said softly, taking her hand. “Enjoy the evening with me.”

  She started to say something, then nodded, sliding out of the car and following me through the carved mahogany doors into the restaurant.

  “May I choose the wine?” I asked once we were seated in a velvet-backed booth near the back of the restaurant, where a low banked fire was burning on the opposite wall. It was very private and romantic, exactly what I’d requested.

  Elizabeth laughed. “You are good at it,” she admitted, and I knew she was thinking about the “business dinner” we’d had at the Italian restaurant. I ordered a Bordeaux, an
d when it came and she took a sip, she closed her eyes for a second. “You’re going to make a wine snob out of me,” she laughed, and I laughed too. “I can only hope so,” I remarked, taking a sip of my own wine. It was delicious.

  The dinner went wonderfully. I convinced her to try escargot, which she hated, and later rabbit, which she loved. We joked and laughed and talked about things that had nothing to do with work, and I felt more and more certain that I’d made the right decision. That it was more than just desire that had kept me thinking about her for months.

  We shared a crème brulee for dessert, with fresh blueberries on top, and when she delicately licked away some cream that had clung to the edge of her lip, I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward, my fingers under her chin, turning her face towards me, and I kissed her. Nothing inappropriate for public, nothing too passionate. It was a gentle kiss, my lips brushing over hers, and I could smell a faint whiff of her perfume, and the sweet scent of the vanilla custard.

  I wanted her so badly I ached.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered, and I knew she wanted me, too.

  I struggled with it the whole drive back to her apartment. Her fingers were laced with mine, the tension thick between us in the car. I could have pulled her to me, could have dragged her onto my lap the way I had that first night, coming back from the bar. I could go up to her new apartment and be the first man to fuck her in her new bed.

  I wanted more.

  I wanted to do this right.

  So when the driver pulled up to her curb, and we both slid out, I let her move close to me, feeling the soft brush of her blouse against my arm as she tilted her head up, looking at me with wide, desirous eyes. I looked down at her, and I kissed her again, soft and gentle, my tongue just brushing against her lips. I felt her breathe in, felt her body tilt towards mine, and my cock surged up, hard and aching, and I wanted to take her upstairs.

  I held back.

  I let go of the kiss, my fingers still wrapped around her hand, my other hand on her waist. “So, about that second date?” I asked, my tone light. My heart was pounding.

  Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you want to come upstairs?”

  Oh god. My cock throbbed, telling me that we absolutely should take her up on it. I forced the thoughts down. “I do, Elizabeth. But I’m not coming upstairs. I told you I want to date you. Like any other guy. So I want to take you out again. But I’m not coming upstairs just yet.”

  I could tell I’d caught her off guard, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “Another date, then.”

  “Sunday afternoon?”

  She laughed. “Eager, aren’t you?”

  I tried not to think of my rock-hard erection. I was very eager. “A little,” I managed to tease playfully. “Is it a date?”

  She nodded. “It’s a date.” She leaned up on her tiptoes then, and kissed me; a quick, chaste kiss. “See you Sunday.” She turned then and went up her steps, and I slid back into the car. I contemplated, for a long second, calling Anne to take care of my current problem. I looked at my phone, my finger on her contact, and then I set it down. I’d take care of myself tonight.

  Chapter 4

  Ellie

  The next morning, I woke up feeling at a loss. I’d thought for sure that our date last night would end in the kind of passionate, mad sex that we’d had the first night we’d met. But he’d been the very picture of a gentleman. The date had been sweet, romantic…chaste, even. There was no trace of the man who’d pinned me down on the floor or fucked me atop his desk.

  Well…that wasn’t entirely true. There had been some trace of him. I’d felt it in the tension on the ride back, in the way his tongue had traced my lips when he’d kissed me outside my apartment building. I’d felt his desire, too, how hard he’d been. He couldn’t hide that. But he’d refrained. Why?

  It all pointed to him wanting more than a fling…maybe even a real relationship. The thing was…I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, or if it was even what I wanted. Dating him—really dating him—opened up a whole world of things that I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with. His extravagant lifestyle, which I couldn’t begin to reciprocate…the talk that would surely start at work. Did I really want these complications?

  The wine from the night before had left me with a little bit of a headache, and I decided to throw on a pair of jogging pants and a college t-shirt, pulling my hair back into a ponytail, and go get a coffee from the shop down the street. I’d hardly gotten in line when I heard a disbelieving, familiar voice call: “Ellie?”

  I turned, knowing already who it was. Brian was sitting at a table a few feet away, laptop in front of him, his eyes wide. I got out of line quickly and went over to him. “Hi,” I said, a bit sheepishly, not sure what else to say.

  “I didn’t know you were in D.C.”

  “Yeah, I…um…well, I just moved back. I got a job here.”

  “At the old firm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s great!” Brian looked genuinely excited for me, and now I truly did feel guilty. “Why didn’t you let me know you were back in town?”

  “It’s been a pretty crazy week,” I said honestly. “I meant to…”

  He shrugged. “I understand. But now…” he hesitated. “Could I take you out sometime? I’ve missed you, you know.”

  I felt reckless, suddenly, seeing a way to assuage my guilt over not contacting him, and my date with Ethan the night before. “How about tonight? Are you free?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Sort of. There’s an event at my brewery. If you want to go with me…as my date…”

  I grinned. “That sounds great.” It actually did, I’d wanted to see his brewery since we first got together, and I was looking forward to the opportunity.

  “Well…good!” Brian said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. “I’ve got some work to do, but I’ll pick you up at six.”

  I hugged him quickly and got my coffee, heading back to my apartment. I was looking forward to an afternoon curled up in my chair reading, and nothing else.

  ***

  I dressed somewhat casually for the night, with dark skinny jeans, a floaty button-down black blouse, and heels. I pulled my hair back in a high ponytail, and did my eyes a little darker than usual. The expression on Brian’s face when I opened the door after hearing him knock was clearly one of approval.

  “You look great,” he said.

  “So do you,” I replied honestly. He really did. He’d combed back his hair in a dapper 40s style, and was wearing dark straight jeans, a nice pair of dark brown sneakers with patches of tweed, and a cream button-down with faint pinstripes. I followed him out to his waiting taxi, and we drove across town to his brewery.

  The space where the event was being held was industrial-styled, with hanging antique Edison bulbs, a metal and copper bar at one end where a bartender was pouring beer, and a long metal table loaded with food. Some of the guests were already mingling and eating, and he brought us two beers. I took a long sip, and smiled appreciatively. “This is really good,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Brian replied. “I’ve got to do some mingling, but get some food, and I’ll be back around soon.”

  I did as he suggested, and tried to do some mingling of my own. There were a couple people I recognized from the firm, and I went over to talk with them.

  The night went more quickly than I expected, and as it started to wind down, I turned to see Brian walking towards me, looking a bit sheepish.

  “I’m sorry I got caught up,” he apologized. “There was a potential investor I was talking to. We can go out somewhere else if you like?”

  I was about four beers in, sexually frustrated, and feeling generally careless. I turned to him, my hand brushing his waist, and murmured as seductively as I could manage: “Let’s just go back to my apartment.”

  He looked at me for a long second, clearly surprised, and then he nodded. “Whatever the lady wants,” he said playful
ly. “I’ll call a cab.”

  I couldn’t help but mark the lack of tension on the ride to my apartment, though. Whenever I rode with Ethan, there was always a lingering knowledge that we were just a move or two away from being on each other, from touching, kissing, fucking. With Brian, even though I knew perfectly well what we were going to my apartment to do, there was a sort of calm complacency that left me feeling restless.

  We wasted no time going upstairs. Brian took a quick look around my apartment. “You’ve done a good job with it,” he said.

  “Thanks. Do you want a drink? I have some wine,” I offered, and he shook his head. “Come here,” he murmured, reaching for my waist. I went with him, leaning my body towards him as he bent to kiss me.

  It was like I remembered it. He kissed me thoroughly, his desire evident in the way his lips pressed against mine, and I could feel him stiffening already, his hand hard on my waist. His tongue plunged into my mouth the moment I parted my lips, and I breathed in, lust surging up in my body. I thought for a moment how it never took any time at all for me to want Ethan, and then Brian maneuvered me towards the bed, and I stopped comparing them.

  He undid my jeans, pulling them and my panties down and tossing them away. His hands were strong and firm on my thighs, pushing them apart, and I felt the soft tickle of his beard against the soft flesh of my inner thighs as his lips slid up my skin, his breath warm, and then I felt his tongue between my legs, and I moaned, my thighs falling apart of their own accord as my hips arched up, seeking out the pleasure from his mouth. His fingers slipped inside of me, stroking as his tongue worked over my clit, and I tossed my head, back arching as I felt an orgasm quickly start to build. I hadn’t had sex since I’d left D.C., although I’d come close a few times, and I was ready for it. Brian seemed to be able to tell, and he sucked my clit into his mouth, fingers moving faster, and I tensed, groaning aloud as the orgasm suddenly washed over me.