An Executive Decision (Executive Decisions Trilogy)

by Grace Marshall

  ‘I heard her bitching in the hall a couple of days ago that Dee was getting credit for all the hard work she’s done on the Scribal project,’ Wade added. ‘What?’ he said when they both looked at him. ‘The woman’s loud. Everyone heard her.’

  ‘But all she’s done is the projections, and she would have done those anyway.’ Dee massaged the nagging pain at the back of her neck that was now working its way around to her temples.

  Sandra pulled a small bottle of aspirin from her pocket and handed it to her. ‘What now?’ she asked. ‘Should I call Ellis?’

  A quick flash of Ellis reprimanding her after she’d overslept stiffened Dee’s resolve. ‘This is my problem. I’ll solve it without bothering Ellis.’ She looked down at her watch. ‘At 7.30 in a Saturday morning, if I were Tally, I’d be at home in bed. I hope she’s a light sleeper.’ She picked up the phone and punched in the number. There was no answer. Hanging up, she turned to Sandra. ‘I’m still hedging my bets that she’s home in bed. Do you know where she lives?’

  ‘I can find out.’

  ‘Do it, and get me Jeffries. Tell him we’ll need the limo.’ Dee knew that if a place was in either of the great States of Oregon or Washington, the driver could find it.

  She tried the number one more time to be sure, and was just ready to hang up when a sleepy Tally answered. She listened in silence as Dee explained the situation.

  ‘I knew I should have called you, or given Marston or someone the heads up.’ Tally’s voice practically oozed sympathy through the phone. ‘Dee, I’m so sorry. Wade seemed distracted Thursday when I left the projections for him. I just had this feeling he hadn’t really noticed what it was or how important. So on Friday, before I left, I went back on a lark and, sure enough, though everything was signed off on, they hadn’t been sent. I just went ahead and Fed Exed the packet to Marston. I left Wade a note. I guess he didn’t find it. Honestly, whatever it was he was working on, he barely knew I was there, and I’m sure he didn’t know how late it was.’

  Dee had worked with Wade closely enough to know that in spite of his absent-minded professor act, he most certainly wasn’t the type to forget something so vital. She chewed on her lip and listened as Tally continued.

  ‘I managed to get it in just before the Fed Ex place closed. Cost a little extra, but I knew how important it was. I should have called, but you’ve been so busy I just couldn’t bring myself to bother you on a Friday night. Really, I feel terrible about this, Dee. Please don’t say anything to Wade. I’m sure whatever he was working on was very important. I mean, it always is with him, and we all know that. The Fed Ex guy promised me Alan would have everything on his desk by noon today. If you’d like, I can call and try to smooth things over. For some reason Alan seems to listen to me, and I know what a bear he can be when he’s upset.’

  ‘Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of it,’ Dee assured her.

  Dee was barely off the line before her BlackBerry rang. It was Marston.

  ‘Fortunately, Ms Henning, not everyone who works for Thorne is completely incompetent. You should give that Tally Barnes a raise. She picked up on your little oversight and had the packet with the financial projections priority posted to me. It just arrived. There’ll be a meeting Monday after all, no thanks to you.’ He hung up.

  ‘I’ll be sure to thank her.’ Dee spoke between gritted teeth into the silent phone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  In spite of the late hour, there were still plenty of people milling around in front of the restaurant and in the lobby when Dee arrived at the hotel in New York. She was surprised to find Ellis was one of them. Dressed in the usual business attire, he still looked fresh enough to eat – a thought that sent warm shivers down her spine. He greeted her with a look reserved for a favourite dessert. After slipping the bellman some money to take her bag to the suite, he stood quietly at her side the few minutes it took her to check in.

  As they walked to the elevator, he slid a proprietary hand to the small of her back. She was certain his massaging fingers must be scorching tight little circles all the way through her skirt to the flesh below. The presence of a couple of tourists in “I heart NYC” T-shirts tempered her urge to rip his clothes off and ride him hard all the way up to their suite. On the second floor, an elderly couple and a large party of Asian businessmen crowded in, and Ellis and Dee found themselves relegated to the back corner.

  The businessmen had clearly been partying. Though Dee didn’t understand the language, she could tell by the loud laughter and ribald gestures the group had imbibed enough to reach the point at which rude jokes were the order of the evening. The elderly couple smiled demurely the way people do who don’t understand what’s being said, but are quietly suspicious they might be the topic of conversation.

  Amid the noise and laughter and jostling of sweaty bodies, Ellis and Dee were pushed ever deeper into the corner. Mantling her protectively with broad shoulders and an open jacket, Ellis slid his hands under Dee’s blouse. With one deft motion, he found the clasp at the front of her bra and opened it. Acting on instinct, she leaned forward into his embrace until her breasts were completely freed into his hands.

  Whatever the joke was, it had the businessmen’s full attention, and the couple and the tourists were too far to the front to notice anything.

  ‘I can’t believe you just did that,’ Dee whispered, applying plenty of tongue to seashell hollow of his ear and inhaling sharply as he ground himself against her, forcing her back still further into the corner.

  ‘If the damned elevator doesn’t hurry up, I’m gonna do a whole lot more than that.’ He took time out from his kneadings to guide her hand into his pocket, then shifted just enough to impress on her the urgency of the situation.

  ‘My God, Mr Thorne, I’m amazed you can even walk.’

  ‘Actually, I was hoping for a ride, Ms Henning.’ He guided her hand to mirror and intensify the tight, almost undetectable rocking of his hips.

  Oblivious to their actions, the businessman produced a bottle of something volatile and passed it around while singing a version of Yesterday that would have brought tears to Lennon and McCartney’s eyes. Once assured Dee knew her way around the inside of his pocket, Ellis retraced the route to the closest breast. His other hand snaked up under the front of her skirt and, with a slight tilting of her hips to open a path, he manoeuvred into her panties. In the subtle but intense rubbing and stroking that ensued, she nearly forgot where they were until the door opened and disgorged everyone but themselves and the elderly couple. Ellis quickly pulled his hand from beneath her skirt and licked wet fingers, the way a chef might test his favourite recipe. In a vain attempt to look respectable, they rode the last two floors straightening clothing and breathing heavily, finally making a quick escape to their suite.

  By the time they got inside, Ellis’s shirt was undone and he was working on his belt. Dee yanked down the zipper of her skirt and stepped out of it.

  Standing with his trousers around his ankles, Ellis shoved her blouse and the unhooked bra out of the way, and reintroduced her nipples to his enthusiastic tongue. ‘Come on,’ he gasped, when he finally pulled away and kicked aside his trousers. ‘My bed’s in here.’ Hooking a finger into the waistband of her thong he pulled her at a fast trot through the sitting room.

  At the door to his bedroom, she grabbed his boxers from behind, nearly tripping him as she tugged them down, freeing his erection, and giving herself a mouth-watering view of his ass.

  Struggling to regain his balance, he turned on her. ‘So, that’s how you want to play, is it?’

  ‘This is how I want to play.’ She pushed him against the wall and dropped to her knees in front of him before he could take the initiative. Then she dragged the boxers down still further so she could cup the weight of his balls in one hand while the other closed around his erection.

  ‘Dee.’ His voice was tight, edgy. ‘Dee, what are you doing?’ He ran a hand down to cup her chin and lift
ed it until she met his gaze.

  ‘I told you I wanted to taste you. You said you’d put it on the calendar. You didn’t forget, did you? Of course not. Ellison Thorne would never forget such an important meeting.’ She took him into her mouth, afraid if she waited she might lose courage, she might remember who she really was in this relationship and not be able to do what she so badly wanted to.

  ‘Jesus, Dee.’ He sucked breath between his teeth and grunted. ‘I won’t be able to hold off long with you doing that. Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive.’ She pulled away from him just enough to speak, running her fisted hand down the length of him, slickened and shiny with her saliva. ‘I want to taste you. I want to see your pleasure.’

  He was thick and heavy, more than she could take into her mouth. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the base of his erection, where it rose from the soft mass of pubic curls. She sheathed him with her lips hard-pressed around his girth, her tongue stroking and caressing the underside of his penis, taking in the shape of him, the rounded tip, the tight slit, the path of veins coursing beneath the skin. His flesh was warm and the scent of was slightly yeasty, like bread baking. It was a scent that made her hungry in parts of her that had nothing to do with her belly. His large hand cupped the back of her head and controlled her movements, and she let him, yielding and opening more to him with each controlled thrust of his hips. All of him was hard, like he was one giant muscle waiting to flex, waiting to explode with power. And she felt all of his need as though it were her own, building between her legs where she gaped hungry and begging and wet.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked again, his voice forced up the back of his throat with an effort she felt at the base of his spine, where she now rested an open palm. ‘Because I can’t … Because I won’t be able to …’

  She murmured and tried to nod, intensifying her efforts to match the crescendo of his need, tightening her grip until her cheeks ached, until her tongue thrust, until her eyes watered with her efforts to breathe around his assault on her mouth, the assault she had encouraged, the assault she had demanded.

  His control slipped. She gagged, then placed a hand against his hip and forced herself to relax as his fingers curled in her hair, as his breath caught in his throat, as his control slipped again then vanished. He shuddered his orgasm into her mouth in a strangled cry that could have been pain as easily as pleasure. At first he tried to push her away, but she clung to him, taking his semen, all of it, taking the taste of him, the rich, thick taste of him onto her tongue, into her throat, swallowing back the heat and the tension and the power of the man she admired most in the world until she was weak and giddy from the act, until she was euphoric and drunk from the feel of him. Then he slid down the wall onto the floor next to her, taking her into his arms.

  ‘Now you know how I taste.’ He took her mouth like he wanted to possess it, like he wanted to devour it. When he pulled away, he forced a laugh that tightened his abdominal muscles beneath her open palm. ‘And now I know how I taste.’

  Then he shifted and rearranged himself until her back rested against his front, his penis pressed, still wet and still at half-mast, against the side of her spine. ‘You need to come now, Dee. It’s your turn.’ He kissed her nape, then wrapped both arms around her, one hand kneading and caressing her breasts, the other moving down over her belly, down to cup her pubis. And as she arched into his palm, his middle finger found its way first to circle the sheened pearl of her clit, then to push into the slick, swollen folds of her. ‘God, woman,’ he whispered against her neck, ‘how can anyone feel so damn good?’ He slipped a second finger into her and began to thrust and stroke while his thumb circled and pressed her clitoris. ‘Just a quickie to make you feel better, then I’ll be ready for round two.’ As if to demonstrate, he thrust his already burgeoning erection playfully against her back. One last hard stroke of his thumb sent her over the edge, nearly knocking him in the chin with the top of her head as she spasmed against him.

  ‘There. That’s better, isn’t it?’ He kissed her ear. ‘And now that we’ve cleared the calendar and taken care of the more urgent business, we can play.’ He helped her to her feet, turned her to face him, then lifted her onto his erection. He pushed in deep, filling her to capacity. She wrapped her legs around him. For the first several thrusts, she ached from the grudging stretch to accommodate, then she forgot about the ache and felt only the building friction and the promise of more pleasure to come as he carried her, fully impaled, to his bed. There, he rode her deep into expensive linens, putting the mattress to the test. It soon became evident that he was up for the long run.

  It was much later when he collapsed on top of her, both of them spent and glistening from their efforts. When he could manage enough breath to speak, he whispered against her ear between not-quite-painful nips. ‘I think I’m starting to understand just why we need the Executive Sex Clause.

  She nipped him back. ‘I’m amazed we got anything done without it.’

  Curled against each other, they drifted in the place between sleep and wakefulness, surrounded by the smells of sex and body heat. He rolled to one side to ease his weight from her, but he was still nestled inside her, almost as hard as he had been before he came the last time. The lingering physical connection was reassuring in its intimacy. His breath slowed to the deep, even rhythms of sleep, but she found herself waking up and wondering whether she should stay or sneak off to her own bed. The idea of severing the connection wasn’t appealing, but she reminded herself he was her boss, and sex was now just a part of her job. Sex with Ellis was not a complication, she told herself. It was simple, really, a part of their working arrangement that would make them both better at their jobs. Like exercise, she told herself. Still, she could never remember her workouts at the gym with Kendra or their Sunday morning runs in the park being anywhere nearly this exciting, nor had thinking about them ever given her butterflies down low in her belly.

  Ellis roused from the dream world like a great cat, stretching the full length of the bed, breaking the physical connection in a warm flood of moisture against the inside of her thigh. Kissing her ear, he slid out of bed. ‘I’ve gotta pee. Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.’

  In a few minutes, he returned with a towel, crawling back in next to her. ‘What is it, Dee? Something’s on your mind. I can tell.’ His efforts to clean her with the towel made her squirm with ticklish pleasure, made it hard to focus on what she wanted to say.

  ‘Just wondering if you want your bed back now that we’ve … Now that it’s … Should I probably go?’

  He tossed the towel and scooped her into a spoon position. ‘I want you right where you are. If I hadn’t, I would have finished the job in the sitting room.’ His words vibrated soporifically against the nape of her neck. ‘Besides, what if I need you again before morning?’

  ‘It’s already morning,’ she said.

  ‘And so it is.’ He ran a hand down over her belly and fingered her clit, causing her to jump and gasp and rearrange herself just enough for him to push into her from behind. ‘It’s a good thing you stayed then, isn’t it?’ The serpentine shifting of his hips, combined with the stroking of his thumb, had her full attention, and suddenly it wasn’t really complicated at all, suddenly it was all about two people helping each other come. Again! As she reached back to grasp his hip, to pull him still deeper into her, she couldn’t keep from smiling. Even her fantasies hadn’t been this good.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dee’s first day at Scribal was a circus, and she was performing without a net. Alan Marston hadn’t even bothered to be present for the meeting. The reps he’d sent in his stead were nothing more than Scribal cheerleaders unwilling and unable to progress the negotiations without Marston at the helm. They all listened enthusiastically, but Dee knew for all the good she was doing, she could have been standing in front of a class of third-graders.

  When the session ended with still no sign of Marston, Dee made an unannounced pilg
rimage to his office on the 25th floor of the Scribal Tower. His secretary phoned him while Dee waited quietly. It really wasn’t necessary to pass on what Marston said. She, along with half the office personnel on the floor, could hear every colourful word he yelled into the poor secretary’s ear, especially the parts about Dee being an incompetent, irresponsible pain in the ass. Just when Dee was seriously considering a quick escape, the woman hung up red-faced, and forced a smile.

  ‘He’ll see you now.’

  Dee took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the lion’s den.

  In an office bigger than her house, Alan Marston sat in a burgundy leather chair, burgeoning belly keeping him a safe distance from the formidable mahogany desk that kept her a safe distance from him. He didn’t bother to get up, nor did he offer her his hand. In fact, he didn’t even speak. He just glared at her.

  ‘You weren’t at the meeting.’ She felt stupid the minute she said it, and Marston didn’t miss her fumble.

  He folded pudgy hands on the blotter, which was the only thing on his desk other than the phone and a very expensive pen. ‘If you came to tell me what I already know, Ms Henning, don’t waste my time.’

  She forced herself to speak around the desert her mouth had become. ‘If we’re planning to negotiate this alliance to everyone’s benefit, I’m going to need a little input from you.’

  He chuckled. ‘You need input from me?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  With an effort that made the chair groan and creak, he stood and adjusted his belt. ‘Ms Henning, I just heard a rumour that your boss is in town. Seems a bit strange to me that he’d not head up these negotiations himself, since they’re so important. Thorne and I go way back. That’s no way to treat a friend.’ Marston hailed from Atlanta and no amount of Ivy League schooling could completely rid the man of his southern twang. But then a man of Marston’s wealth could intimidate inferiors in whatever dialect he chose.