by Author Quinn
I uncross my legs and squeeze them together. How long are you going to punish yourself, Ingrid?
Is that what I’m doing? Punishing myself? For what purpose exactly? For reminders of how deep he was inside me? For how many orgasms he’s given me? For not letting myself give in?
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a frustrated groan. “This is not going to work out.”
“Ingrid.” His finger stops drawing circles on my fired-up skin.
“Sorry, Henrik.” I can’t even look at him. Sliding out of the booth, I push through the crowd and practically run back to the office building, cursing myself the entire way there.
To my surprise, or not, I guess, I find him leaning against my car. “You’re persistence knows no bounds or are you turning into a stalker?”
He crosses his ankles and relaxes more against my Mercedes convertible. “Just give me one solid reason.”
“What reason? What do you want from me? God, Henrik! I’m sorry I was so good in bed that you can’t forget about me. I’m sorry that I am just so irresistible that you can’t imagine not having me again. I’m sorry that…”
The rest of what I’m about to say turns into mumbles when he claims my lips—punishing, deep, primal.
He pushes a hand through my hair while his tongue plunders my mouth. He gives my hair a little tug and my neck arches, followed by my entire body. Heaving chest against heaving chest, heartbeats drumming in quick unison. Body molding, my panties melting.
I fumble for my keys and somehow find a way to unlock my car. There isn’t enough room in it for him to get on top of me, he knows this. I know this. He slides in and pulls me on top of him before closing the passenger door.
“Fuck,” he groans out when I grind my hips on his lap, on that impressive hard-on. He hasn’t let go of my hair, and he nips under my chin, sucking, biting, marking me.
I grapple for the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head. He presses the button on the seat and the back slides down, making enough room for me to take my jeans and shoes off, and him to slide his trousers and boxers enough to release his cock.
“Sorry,” he says and before I wonder why, he rips my camisole into pieces, and delves on my breasts, suckling at my tender nipple. I arch my body forward, letting him taste more. All the while, I’m rocking over his lap, my slick, wet folds lubricating his length. His other hand finds my ass and grabs a handful of one cheek. I jolt when he follows this with a smack on my butt. And I squeal. No man has made me squeal before.
I don’t apologize when I rip his shirt off, and tug it back and down so I can scrape my fingernails all over him—on his taut abs, the planes of his chest, his arms, over his neck. He finds my lips again, in the dark, in the tiniest vehicle I own, and bites down on my lower lip. He doesn’t apologize for it, and I’m glad.
“Fuck me,” I order him, but I’m the one who grabs a fistful of cock under me, and lead it to my entrance. I take him slowly, a mere inch at a time. It feels different this time, without the help of the water in the shower, he feels bigger, so big I’m afraid he’ll rip me apart.
I’m watching my pussy swallow his cock until it disappears altogether and I’m full inside. I look up and we lock gazes. Panting, not saying a word, just feeling.
He releases my hair and drags his thumb over my lightly pressed lips, then he slides it between them, and I suck it in. I taste his skin. At the same time, I move my hips, slow at first, then match it to the rhythm inside my ribs. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me. Muscles on his jaw twitch, and he’d wince every now and then.
He slips his thumb out of my mouth and drags it down the middle of my torso, all the way to my swollen clit. With his other hand, still splayed on my ass, he guides me on him, until we’re moving to the same beat. His thumb playing with my clit, my hips rocking on his crotch, my pussy sliding up and down his shaft. I dig my nails into his shoulders, and when I can’t take it anymore, I close my eyes and roll my head back.
My own strength is dissipating, but he holds me tight with one arm and ruts into me by lifting me over his lap. I’m leaning back so much when I stretch out my hands I reach and touch the cool glass of my window. He alternately takes my nipples in his mouth, one at a time. He’s doing everything now, and I am just a heap of melting flesh ready to explode. When I do, he pauses for a second or two, letting me ride it out, and then he keeps going until I feel him throbbing inside me.
When it’s over, I fall forward, my head hitting his chest and I’m lulled by the beat of his heart to a sense of peace. Short-lived as it is.
All the back and forth arguing, push and pull earlier is nothing but foreplay. As much as we snap at each other at work, when it comes to sex, we barely talk. I’m fine with that, even when we re-dress in quiet. I fling a leg over the central panel of my car and settle in the driver’s seat. A second after turning my engine on, I say, “Goodnight,” without really acknowledging his presence. From the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand through his hair and tug at it. Then he reaches for the door and he’s gone.
Chapter Five
We manage to be civil at work for a couple of days. During our meeting with Tomlinson, he presents his additional, new concept, and even adding that he’d been inspired by what I’ve already done. Of course, Tomlinson ignores that part and pats him on the shoulder.
“Ass,” I say between clenched teeth. Apparently not quiet enough as I raise my head and see Henrik with a cheeky grin on his face. I roll my eyes at him and walk out of the conference room.
We—or I—evade him throughout the day and the next morning. I make it until about five in the afternoon on day two when I shoot Henrik a text message, giving him my home address and telling him to be there in a couple of hours, but not to expect a home-cooked meal.
I greet him with two fingers of single malt in a crystal tumbler, and me in a plum satin and silk lingerie. He takes my drink offer and downs it in one go, breathing heavily as he lowers the glass on my hallway table. He reaches into his back pocket and hands me a pile of condoms.
“Seriously?”
“I thought—“
“You think if I’m not on the pill I would have let you come inside me however many times already?”
“Well…it’s not just for that.”
“Henrik.” I grab his hand and dump the condoms on his palm. “I haven’t been with a man for almost six months before I met you. And I know I’m clean.” I point at the condoms. “Should this make me worry?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to worry about that. Honestly before you, I’ve always worn protection. I was coming from a month-long trek up Kilimanjaro when I met you. So you bet I haven’t been with anyone for a while too. I just thought…” I send him what I hope is my best resting bitch face. “Forget it.” He drops the pile of prophylactics on the marble floor and in one swoop, picks me up, my legs automatically wrapping around him.
“You can be a brat, you know,” he tells me.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He leans his head away from me. “Not until we get to your bedroom.”
“Fuck the bedroom.”
And we do just that. I let him screw me in every room, pretty much on every surface in my apartment. I’m already half asleep in front of the low burning fireplace, atop faux fur blankets and embroidered pillows when he whispers ‘goodnight’ and leaves my apartment.
The next day is a different story altogether. I’ve never felt like such a fool. Even when I’d dated older men, despite knowing it won’t lead to anything lasting, I hadn’t felt this disgusted over a man’s actions.
Just hours ago, he was pumping into me, groaning against my pillow, and releasing his sticky come inside me.
After meeting with my new clients for lunch—a habit I’d learned from my Dad and Theo—I head to the restaurant’s bathroom, relieving myself, then re-applying my lipstick. I would’ve missed it—them—if I hadn’t almost bumped into one of the waitresses. We both apologize t
o each other, but my mouth stays open when, across the room, I spot Henrik with a woman. His arm hangs behind her and they’re both laughing. As far as I know, Henrik doesn’t take out his clients for lunch like I do. And if he happens to be out with them, Tomlinson is always around his golden boy.
I can do one of two things—ignore them and hate him for the rest of my life, or…
Before I can stop myself, I find myself in front of them, with a twisted grin on my face. “Henrik, hi!” My voice is an octave too high. “Fancy seeing you here.” I let my eyes drift to the woman—young, blonde, stylish—just his type. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Henrik, who at first was shocked to see me, suddenly morphs his expression into amazement. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before tightening his arm around his…date. My left eye twitches but I fight through the annoyance with a forced smile. “Would love to. Paris, this is my unbelievably talented colleague, Ingrid. Ingrid…” He turns to her and gazes at her adoringly. “Meet my little brat of a sister, Paris.”
“It’s great to finally meet you. Henrik has told me so much about you,” Paris says, extending a dainty hand to me.
My mouth gapes and we all wait until I say something back. But all that squeaks out of me is, “Oh.” Then I bolt.
Embarrassed to no end—and my mother would be turning in her grave right now since I’ve just forgotten all those years of charm school—I run straight to my office and lock the door. I jump when I hear the knock behind me.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Talia.” I exhale loudly and open the door for her. “Where’s the fire?”
I walk to my desk and slump on my chair. “What?”
“You’re red and puffy. Did you just run back from your lunch meeting?”
“Ah, yeah…I…” I don’t know what to say. One thing I’ve communicated intently to Henrik is that I don’t want anyone finding out about us at the office. I don’t want to be another woman fueling the gossip mill. Without a complaint, not that he has a choice, he agrees to keep us quiet, as long as he gets to see me naked.
So it’s a surprise when the next words come out of my mouth, “Are you dating, Talia?”
She sits with one of her legs crossed over the other on a white modernistic chair in front of my desk. She snorts and laughs. “Dating and I have an understanding right now.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“That we won’t understand each other and it needs to stay as far away from me as possible, because men are no good.”
They’re useful sometimes, I want to say, thinking about Henrik. “Some guys are good,” I argue.
“Well I haven’t met him if he exists.”
“Maybe you will soon.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Whatever, girl. Fairy tales don’t always happen to people like me.”
I want to argue her point further, but my office door opens and Henrik stands there like a Greek God in a Gucci suit. “Quick chat?” he asks.
Talia uncrosses her legs and stands, still clutching the files against her chest. “I better get back to my cubicle.”
“Did you have anything for me?” I ask her before she steps out my door.
“Nope. Just making sure you’re okay. See yah.”
Henrik closes the door behind her and prowls toward my desk, head lowered, eyes hooded, a teasing grin on his lips. “My sister thinks you’re…nice.” He stops in front of me, and I’m ever thankful for the desk between us.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks?”
He places his hands on the glass surface and his smile widens even more. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”
I tuck my loose hair behind one ear and turn away from him. “If that’s what you think.”
“That’s exactly what I think. C’mon, admit it. You were jealous of my little sister. You thought I was on a real date.”
“Whatever.” I can be so mature sometimes.
Henrik slides his hands further and captures mine, holding them tight in his warm palms. “Just to let you know…I came to this city because of her.” He leans forward and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he only talks in a low voice, the type of tone that wets my panties each time. “I stayed because of you.” He brushes an index finger against my parted lips as I gasp at his…confession. Then he’s out the door. And I’m left with emotional whiplash.
By the end of the week, the office is abuzz with the news. I should be celebrating but all I can think of is when I’ll see Henrik again. And not just at work, although we’ve managed to sneak in a couple of afternoon quickies without anyone noticing. Perks of living near the office.
Theo has successfully taken over the company. My plan is coming along smoothly. What I’m struggling with is do I let Henrik know about it or not?
Theo’s name flashes on my screen when my phone vibrates on my desk. This is the fifth time he’s called me this morning. The first time was when Henrik’s head was between my legs, on my bed, when he’s supposed to just stop over for breakfast. He had me instead.
I pick up before Theo gets my voicemail, otherwise he’ll worry. “Yes, your royal pain in my ass?”
“I was about to call Chicago PD and file a missing person report.”
I lean an elbow on my desk and prop my chin on my closed fist. “Don’t be so whiny, it’s unbecoming of a CEO.”
“I thought you’d be happier.”
I sigh. “I am.”
“Sure, your tone is very convincing.”
I clear my throat and straighten on my chair. “I am. Honest. It’s just that…”
“That what? Don’t tell me you changed your mind.” Theo’s tone changes into business mode, but the scary, I will see you in court and prepare to file for bankruptcy tone.
“No, I haven’t. It’s just…”
“Spit it out, Ingrid. Time’s money.”
I walk to my door and lock it, ensuring that no one comes in when I’m about to spill my guts to Theo. “I’ve kinda been seeing someone,” I say, enunciating each word. He stays quiet for a beat or two.
“Let me guess, someone’s been dipping his company pen in your ink.”
What? Men. “That’s one way to put it.” I roll my eyes and continue to watch the hubbub in the office through the glass pane beside my closed door. “I know what you’re going to say. I’ve been careful. No one else knows.”
“Not yet.”
“No, no one’s going to find out. I know how you feel about office relationships. This is different. He’s…different.” Again, Theo remains quiet on the other line. “Say something.”
“Whatever I say won’t make a difference. You’re an adult. You live your own life the way you want to. I just don’t want to see you hurt. You’ve come so far since jerk face there.”
“Charles.”
“I don’t give a shit what his name is. He’s old enough to be your father. How about this one?”
“He’s my age.” And he’s handsome, considerate, great in bed…excellent in bed and other places. “He’s one of the architects here.”
“Wait a second. Didn’t you tell me there’s a new guy in the firm and he took over the position you’ve worked hard for?”
Right. And here I am hoping he’d forget about that. “Well…I kinda don’t mind him doing that anymore.”
“Of course you don’t. Listen I have to go. And do me a couple of favors, Ingrid.”
“Yeah?”
“Watch your back with this one.”
“Okay. And the other thing?”
“Get yourself a girl friend. I feel like I’ve grown a vagina just now. Bye.”
“Good bye, Ass!”
I hang up with a smile on my face. Although there’s a bit of worry still left over in my mind, I can’t take Theo’s warning too seriously. Henrik is different. He’s honest in so many ways. As much as I want to ask him about his confession—that he stayed for me—I’m truthfully afraid what it could mean
. I still don’t know much about him. I’ve just found out he has a sister, and that they live together right now until she gets her own place. That she works on the fourth floor of our building. That he came to the city because he promised his mother he’d check in on her, and watch over her until she’s ready to venture out on her own. She’s twenty, working her first grown-up job after college. It can’t be easy having a big brother hovering over you all the time. Which is exactly how Theo’s acting around me, I realize.
Well, if I need to find a friend to confide in, Theo’s gonna need someone too. And I know just the person…I wave at her through the panel as she passes by my office.
Chapter Six
“Are you sure you want to wear that?” Theo asks when I greet him with a solid smile. He’s right, I need girl friends. Women would cheer me on wearing this little number. Sure it’s a bit revealing, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel sexy. And I sure do in the gold sequined, backless micro dress.
I grimace at him. “It’s not for you.”
“I didn’t think it was. What time is he going to be here?” He reaches for two flutes of champagne out of a long row on his kitchen counter, and offers me one.
“He’ll get here when he gets here.” I raise my glass to him and he clinks his to mine before we both take a big gulp of crisp champagne. It’s safe to say I’m a bit nervous. I’ve convinced Theo that he’d take a liking to Henrik, but I still haven’t told Henrik who Theo is to me.
We stand next to each other, looking out at the twinkling lights of downtown Chicago, and waiting for the guests to arrive—all of ARC’s designers, architects, and management. Tonight, Theo welcomes them all in his new home, or as he puts it, his home away from home, which is New York City. We’ll see about that.
I finished his penthouse design end of last week despite how busy my extra time has suddenly been occupied by other matters. When Theo did the walkthrough, I could see the pride in his eyes. I didn’t disappoint. It’s my job as an interior designer to listen to my clients, meet them halfway if necessary, or in Theo’s case, wow him.
