Please (Please #1)

by Willow Summers

  “Oh!” I blasted apart. Pleasure crashed through me. I quivered, scraping my nails down his back in ecstasy.

  He groaned a moment later with his lips near my ear. He snaked his hands under me and around, holding me tightly in his strong arms as he shuddered. He dug his face into my neck, giving a last few thrusts as he finished inside me.

  The room was silent except for our breathing. I was still wrapped tightly in his arms despite the awkwardness of the hard table. Panting, I just lay there for a moment, hoping the table didn’t break under our weight.

  After a moment, longer than when he’d taken me on his desk, he unraveled himself and straightened up. Without a word, he stared down at me for a moment, his gaze as soft as before we started. Bottomless.

  He took my hands and pulled me up to standing. “Do you need help putting on your clothes?”

  I smiled sheepishly, glancing down at my panties. “No, I think I can manage.”

  He looked at me for a moment longer, his expression blank. “I’ll hold on to the jewelry for now. I trust you don’t have a safe?” He raised his brows as he fastened his pants and started working on his shirt.

  “No. I barely have any gold, let alone diamonds. My mom kept all the family heirlooms my grandmother tried to pass down.”

  He nodded like he’d thought as much. It didn’t take a genius, after all. He’d seen my room.

  Hunter turned toward his desk.

  I stood for a moment, wanting to argue about the purchase and wanting to coax more conversation out of him. But he’d shut off again. He sat down at his large desk and turned toward his big screen, ruling his empire with an iron fist and exceptional business sense. I no longer registered as a presence.

  My gaze drifted back to the table. I could barely feel the uncomfortable clenching at the innocent-looking packages in black velvet. Nor the uncertainty over how he could just shut off. Not in the aftermath of that glorious climax, and how long he took to disconnect this time around.

  Was he starting to open up just a bit? Was he letting down his guard enough to enjoy being with someone, even for just a little while?

  I had no idea, and there was no way I was asking. Instead, I shook my head at the craziness of the evening and walked toward the bathroom to get dressed. I needed to stop trying to do the right thing. It was more fun being bad.

  The next few weeks went by in a blur. The charity dinner turned out to be an excuse for the leaders of various organizations to get together and talk business while also donating large amounts of money they would then use as a tax write-off. Hunter planned to approach the CEO of a smaller, and mostly limping, company with a possible plan to buy out.

  Brenda was nearly pulling her hair out with the arrangements and scheduling, since this was an out-of-town affair, but I was doing okay. I hadn’t been out of college long enough to forget times of intense stress. Having been a member of several clubs and groups, as well as taking a large load of classes, I was pretty used to having no life.

  Time passing meant a looming deadline for me. The charity dinner was tomorrow, and a few days after that lay my deadline. I had to choose if I would stay or go.

  On one hand, I was having the time of my life. I learned something every day. I was picking up on how Hunter handled business, manipulating and pulling strings at will, and how Brenda organized and balanced the workload of a major CEO. The job was challenging, rewarding, and great for my career.

  On the other hand, there was Hunter. I hadn’t made an advance since the day in his office, but Lord how I wanted to. Every time I was near him I felt surges of electricity. I wanted to touch him, or lean into him, or just stare.

  I could tell he was suffering from the same affliction. When I put a hand on his arm, or he touched the small of my back to direct me, his body would flex and his jaw would clench, and he’d stare at me with raging heat infusing his eyes.

  Neither of us made a move. We were ungodly busy with something extremely important to him. He rarely had the business mindset turned off, and I refused to be with him if he didn’t. This was put to the test a couple times when he pinged me.

  Hunter Carlisle: Come in here. Remove your panties. I need to fuck you.

  A zing of excitement had gone through me. And, like the douche I was, I couldn’t help myself. I walked into his office with a fluid body. When I got in there, though, he stood robotically, undid his belt, took out his manhood, and stroked it to life as he continued to look at his computer.

  “Actually, I don’t have time to get you wet. Get under the desk and give me a blow job.” He’d motioned toward the floor.

  I hadn’t known what to say. I just stood there, mouth open and rigid.

  His eyes met mine. For the first time I could ever remember, he flushed.

  He had forgotten it was me at the admin desk. I could’ve been a stranger for all he cared. He just wanted to stick his dick in something warm and wet.

  It was a wake-up call.

  Completely embarrassed, I’d turned around and gone back to my desk. Emotion welled up in me, that old feeling of being used. Oh how I hated it. It turned my heat to ice. It turned my eyes into aqueducts.

  “I apologize,” he had said later that night. “I…wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Olivia…” He’d stared down at me for a time. Neither of us spoke. Then he’d put his hand in his pocket and walked toward the elevator. I had no idea where he was going, nor did I ask.

  He’d done it one other time. When tensions were high and report due dates were looming, he’d sent me another sexual ping.

  Hunter Carlisle: Come in here. Take your top/dress and panties off. I need to fuck.

  Olivia Jonston: Come out here. Bring flowers and chocolates. Prepare to recite Shakespeare. I need to laugh.

  Nothing had happened. He hadn’t responded.

  Olivia Jonston: FYI. That was a no.

  Hunter Carlisle is typing…

  No message came.

  Olivia Jonston: Pop quiz, hotshot. What am I wearing today?

  Hunter Carlisle: Pink blouse, black skirt with a small slit up the back, black shoes of terrible quality that still give you blisters, hair with no product, and no makeup.

  Hunter Carlisle: I apologize about my ping. I was on autopilot again.

  Olivia Jonston: I feel sorry for your future girlfriend. You’ll cheat on her without any recollection of doing so.

  Hunter Carlisle: Impossible. I won’t have a girlfriend.

  I’d rolled my eyes and gone back to work, stupidly flattered that he’d paid so much attention to me even though, at the same time, he’d forgotten I was there entirely. Most guys wouldn’t notice an outfit. As busy as we were, the fact that he noticed I came to work was amazing, let alone that he paid enough attention to notice the Band-Aids on my heels from where the shoes rubbed.

  A moment later I got another ping.

  Hunter Carlisle: Regarding the fuck, though… Still a no?

  I’d blurted out laughter. Brenda looked over with a quirk in her brow.

  Olivia Jonston: I never did get those flowers and chocolates. Or the Shakespeare. So…tit for tat. I’m waiting for my tit.

  Hunter Carlisle: You have great tits. I’d love to tease them.

  Olivia Jonston: I need my tat, then.

  Hunter Carlisle: I can give you a white tramp stamp. Come in here to collect.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “What?” Brenda looked over.

  “Nothing.” I didn’t fancy telling her that her boss was extremely horny at the moment. And that was making me extremely horny.

  Hunter Carlisle: Did I go too far? I wasn’t serious. Mostly.

  Olivia Jonston: No, but…you’re a bit wound up.

  Hunter Carlisle: Yes. This is my sole outlet. And you’re beautiful. Yet I am forced into abstinence.

  Hunter Carlisle: FYI. I will settle for pity sex.

  I had contained the laughter that time. Brenda w
ould want to be in on the joke and I didn’t feel like explaining.

  Olivia Jonston: No time. I have to get some reports out. Too bad.

  Hunter Carlisle: Yes. It is. I apologize again.

  Olivia Jonston: No worries.

  I’d wanted to keep up the banter, but I had a million things to do and it was already late.

  He hadn’t slipped up again. He had also kept his distance.

  Then there was the contract. It was like a black cloud directly over a picnic. I kept looking up at it as I ate my sandwich, wondering when it would ruin my day.

  I’d talked to Kimberly about it, and she said I could try to get around signing it, but it was unlikely. Hunter liked things laid out and squared away—I was a huge loose end.

  She was absolutely right.

  The evening before the dinner, I sat at my desk staring at the computer, thinking about that contract and what I might be able to change to make things more reasonable. I didn’t notice the powerful stride of my boss until he was suddenly right in front of me.

  “Oh. Ah, hi.” I shuffled papers in front of me, belatedly trying to look busy.

  “Why are you still here?”

  I glanced at my computer. The time read 8:53 p.m. “Crap. Where’d the time go?”

  “Do you have everything for tomorrow?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I think so. Everything you requested is done. It’s just a day trip, so I don’t need much.”

  He stared down at me for a moment before dropping a folder on my desk. “I’ve revised a few things. I figured I’d give you a couple days to look it over and ask any questions.”

  I realized what was in the folder. “Is this negotiable?”

  “Signing the contract? No. Not if you want to work in this role. I work a certain way, and I need my admin to support me in that. I like her role clearly defined.”

  “What about my needs?”

  “You have a social life to fulfill your needs.”

  My heart dropped. He knew very well I didn’t have much of a social life. “So, you get to list all the things that would make your life perfect, and what do I get?”

  He paused for a moment. “You get access to me.”

  Angry tears surfaced. “Black and white, huh?”

  “Olivia, that’s how I work. You know that. I need the chaos contained.”

  I tossed up my hands. “Well, I just don’t know if I can sign something like this. I don’t know if I can give away my freedom.”

  “I’m not throwing you in a jail cell, Olivia. Nothing would change.”

  “Except for you being able to tell me when and how often I am to fuck you.” I wiped a tear from my face as I stood.

  “You didn’t have a problem with that the last time we were together.”

  “I was calling the shots the last time. I didn’t get a summons to walk into your room, fall to my knees, and blow you.”

  Hunter’s eyes darkened. “Are you saying you wouldn’t like that?”

  His words pierced me. Unexpectedly, my core tingled. Playing dominance games was hot. I ignored the fantasy, though. “It’s not about the sexual act, it’s about the collar you want to put around my neck. It’s about the leash you want to hold.”

  “It wouldn’t be like that.”

  “Oh?” I stuffed my computer into its bag and slammed a drawer closed. I brushed hair out of my face and grabbed my handbag. I stared at him defiantly. “And how would you know? When did someone make you sign a contract like that? As I recall, your admin can’t ask anything of you. She just has to do as she’s told. Like a dog.”

  I snatched up the contact and stuffed it into a pocket of my computer bag. “I’ll be ready by one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be out front of my apartment, so text if you’re going to be late.”

  “Mr. Ramous is waiting downstairs to take you home.”

  “Mr. Ramous can shove that car up your ass, for all I care. I’m taking the bus, and you can just fuck off.”

  I stormed out of the area and stood in a temper waiting for the elevators. If he came to stand with me and insist on taking me home, I had planned to berate him loudly all the way through the lobby. He hated calling attention to himself, and since I was slightly hysterical at the moment, I wouldn’t mind making a scene.

  He didn’t approach, though. If he stood and stared, or went back into his dungeon, I couldn’t say. I kept my eyes straight ahead, and when the elevator chimed, I walked in without a sideways glance.

  I didn’t even know what things Hunter had changed. He might’ve very well calmed down the things that I had an issue with. But the problem with misplaced tempers was that they weren’t rational, and often, they had to run their course.

  When I stepped onto the sidewalk a few moments later, I saw Bert waiting for me, the door open.

  “Not today, Bert,” I said, passing by. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Livy, please let me take you home. Mr. Carlisle won’t be pleased…”

  “I’m counting on it, Bert. Kiss the wife for me.” I kept walking like a woman with a purpose.

  I didn’t know if I planned to say no to Hunter yet—I’d read the contract, check his revisions, and weigh the implications. Maybe he really was leveling things out. Maybe he was thinking with fairness in mind.

  I scoffed at my own thought. And maybe he was a spoiled little brat that always got what he wanted. Because if that was the case, he was just about to learn what “no” felt like. I’d found my courage to stand my ground again, and I would use it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The door buzzer sounded at ten a.m. the next morning. I cinched my robe around me as I pushed the intercom button. “Hello?”

  “Miss Jonston, it’s Pat—I’ll be doing your hair and makeup, and helping prepare.”

  “Come on up.” I pushed the button to let her into the building.

  I opened the door and stood in the doorway. A tall, sophisticated woman in black slacks and shirt crested the stairwell. She had enough luggage to travel to Europe for a week. She turned my way without prompting. When she neared, she asked, “Are you showered?”

  “Yes, I’m all set. Aren’t we a little early—” I cut off as Bert stomped up a moment later with another couple of bags. “Jeez. You have more?”

  “Women prepare for an event in style, Miss Jonston.” Pat waltzed into my apartment. “We do not get ready. We pamper. Please, let’s get started.”

  Bert stopped in front of me with a concerned look. “You okay?”

  I shrugged. “Meh.”

  He grinned. “Whatever you got going with Mr. Carlisle, you sure had him surly yesterday. He left right after you did, saw me standing there, and gave me that look. You have some balls, girl—excuse the language.”

  “It’s only a job, Bert. A great job, with great benefits, but if you let yourself get pushed around, who are you then?”

  “His bitch. You’re right.” Bert laughed and motioned me through the door ahead of him. “I don’t think he’s used to it.”

  “Rich people rarely are, are they?”

  Pat was setting up in the living room. Makeup of all kinds and shades spread across the coffee table. Hair products and tools littered the couch. A chair from the kitchen table had been brought over and was waiting for me to sit.

  Pat straightened and looked me over as Bert headed toward the dining table in the corner.

  “Can I clear some of this off, Livy?” Bert asked as he set bags down.

  “Yes, go ahead. We’ll just have to put it back, because it’s my roommate’s. And I wouldn’t leave the car too long—DPT are pretty fierce with issuing tickets during normal working hours.”

  “Mr. Carlisle said he wants to enhance your natural beauty, not overshadow it.” Pat gazed down at her tools and colors. “He was absolutely right. Bert, bring up the dress, if you please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Bert put down a bottle of champagne he was about to open and headed for the door. “I just have to grab it fr
om the car.”

  “He’s so helpful,” Pat mused as she glanced at my face again. “So much sweeter than the last driver. I hope he stays for a while.”

  “How long have you worked for Mr. Carlisle?” I asked as Pat picked out a couple shades of concealer.

  “Oh, I don’t. No offense, but I would never work directly for that man. His moods would drive me insane. I have my own shop. I usually wouldn’t do house calls myself—I have girls for this kind of thing—but saying no to Mr. Carlisle is not wise if you want to keep his business. And I would certainly like to do that.”

  “Here we are,” Bert said as he returned. “I’ll just leave it here. I saw a space open up across the street. I want to go grab it so I can sit in on the fun.”

  Pat waved him away as she turned to the dress. She took it out of the garment bag like she might an old relic, before hanging it on a picture frame in the middle of a white wall. She tsked. “My, my, that is something. Absolutely gorgeous. You have great taste.”

  “I was just the model. Hunter picked everything out.”

  “Ah. Well, he chose well for you.” She sucked her lip as she surveyed her makeup options again. “My instinct would be to use bold colors. To really play up the glamour of the dress and make your eyes pop. Hmm.” She crossed her arms and spun around, looking at the ground. “Where are the accessories?”

  “I don’t know. Hunter was keeping them.”

  “Yes…” She crossed to the table and bent for a small black box. As she brought it over, I realized it was a strongbox. “Locked.”

  Pat laid it on the couch. “Well, we’ll have a mimosa while we wait for Bert. No sense in standing around idly.”

  We were halfway through our glasses when Bert trudged into the room with a sheen of sweat on his face. He huffed as he closed the door. “Had to fight someone for the spot. I got there first, but he tried to nosedive in. Sneaky little…”