by Ami Snow
He pulled away, though, a little breathless. “I did promise we would go to my house to talk,” he said, laughing slightly. I nodded, laughing along with him, although truthfully I felt a little disappointed. He didn’t make me tremble and ache the way Ethan did, but my blood was hot from his kisses, my body eager for more.
The cab pulled up along the sidewalk, and I insisted Brian let me pay this time. He deferred gracefully when he saw that I was serious, which I appreciated.
His rowhome, which he said he shared with two friends, looked very much like a bachelor pad. There was a sofa and a couple of armchairs, a giant television with multiple game consoles, and a kitchen that looked as if it wasn’t used all that often. “We can stay downstairs if you want, but my buddies will probably be home soon. Or we can go up to my room…no ulterior motives, I promise.” He raised his hand like a good Boy Scout, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Your room is fine,” I said, and I followed him up the stairs.
It was sparsely furnished, too, with a few posters on the walls, a made bed, dresser and nightstand, and one exposed brick wall across from the bed. He settled onto the mattress, piling up pillows for us to lean against, and I settled into the crook of his arm.
“So how much longer do you have here? I remember you saying that first night that you were here for an internship.”
“About five weeks,” I said.
“Are you ready to go home? Or do you like it here?”
“I like it here. This is where I thought I’d wind up after college. I like some of the people I’ve met here, too,” I said, giving him a cheeky grin.
He laughed. “So do you think you won’t wind up here now?”
I could sense that he was trying to suss out my intentions without coming right out and saying he might want to date me. It was a nice thing for him to do, I thought, to not put pressure on me to make a choice by insinuating that I would have someone here. But, I thought, if I said I was certainly coming back, I thought that he would probably make a move.
I didn’t know what I would say if he did. I liked him…I liked him a great deal. But there was Ethan, always hovering in the back of my mind. The knowledge that if I chose Brian, I would have to give up Ethan. The rush of excitement when I saw him, the way my heart started to pound when he was close to me. The furious fucking on my floor, in my shower, on his desk. What else does he give you? I thought to myself, but it wasn’t enough to make me settle on one side or the other. Not yet.
“I might come back here,” I said cautiously. “A lot depends on whether or not I have a job. If no one here offers me anything…I’ll probably go to New York or Chicago. Maybe Boston.”
“I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t get job offers,” Brian said, and I felt warm all over at his certainty. Of course, I thought, with a sudden rush of guilt—he also didn’t know that I was sleeping with my boss. And that if I angered said boss, I could wind up blacklisted from every marketing firm in Washington D.C. Maybe further.
These were things I didn’t need to say right now, though. Right now, I knew that the promise of maybe coming back was enough. That while Brian might not wait for me, if he was still single when I…if I…came back, he’d want to pick up where we left off. Later, if I did come back, that was when I knew I would need to make a choice.
We kept talking, talked for what felt like hours. And although I didn’t mean to, although I’d had every intention of following through on what we’d started in the cab, eventually I found myself lying next to him on the bed, my head on his shoulder, and I fell asleep.
Chapter 4
Ethan
I was watching the calendar days tick by. I couldn’t help it. Day after day, she spent her time in my office and at the desk outside of it, making calls, filing papers, listening to me as I instructed her on how to handle clients. Every moment, I wanted to drag her onto my desk, slide her skirt up again and fuck her until she screamed my name. But I refrained. I wasn’t sure why I refrained…but I did.
The tension was nearly unbearable. I called Anne more often, taking pleasure in denying her hers until the absolute final moment, enjoying lashing her to the bed, sometimes on her back, sometimes on her front, and pounding her until we both lost ourselves to complete oblivion. I enjoyed the sensation of my hand on her flesh, feeling it warm and redden under my palm. I knew that it was really Elizabeth I wanted there, Elizabeth that I wanted to punish for the way she pretended that nothing had happened between us.
I thought I saw, sometimes, the flashes of lust in her eyes. When she leaned over my arm to look at a report, or stood next to me in an elevator, I could see the desire there. It would be so easy, I thought in those times, to turn and bend her over the desk, or push her up against the elevator wall, kissing her until she begged for me to take her back to the privacy of my office.
But I wanted, more and more, more than just sex. I wanted to possess her. On the nights that Anne was busy, I took care of it myself, gripping my cock and stroking it as I imagined tying Elizabeth’s hands over her head and spanking her until she begged for release, or bending her over the bed and spanking her small, pert ass with a cane. I pictured the lines on her wrists from the ropes and the way she would beg for my cock before I finished, the way I would punish her by not letting her come until I felt she’d had enough. I pictured these things, over and over, until I would come violently, my body jerking and spasming, and leaving me unfulfilled in the end. Because just like my nights with Anne, I would lay awake afterwards, my body still throbbing, wondering what she was doing. Wondering if she were in bed with another man, letting him plunge into her until she cried out from the pleasure of it, or if she were alone, touching herself while she thought of me fucking her on my desk in front of windows that overlooked the whole city.
Or maybe, I thought sometimes, glumly…maybe she was just sleeping, in those wee hours when I lay alone in bed. Maybe she wasn’t fucking anyone or dreaming of fucking me. Maybe she was just sleeping. That thought depressed me more than anything else. I would rather her be longing for me or fucking someone just to get rid of the tension, the way I was. Anything but apathy.
Although, I longed for apathy. Never had a woman gotten under my skin like this. I wondered if it was just the chase, the fact that she hadn’t given in to me completely, hadn’t begged for me to fuck her of her own accord. She’d only begged once, when I’d already had her pinned to my desk, my fingers inside of her. Then, she’d begged. But she’d never come seducing me.
So I watched the days tick away on the calendar, and I wondered when something would give. Either she would give in, or she would leave. I wondered what I would do if she simply left, and nothing happened. It would be so anti-climactic, after everything that had passed between us.
But on her last day, it looked as if that was what was happening. I’d gotten to work early, unable to sleep again, despite having fucked Anne a record three times the night before, to the point where she’d very nearly looked as if she might ask to stay, simply so as not to have to make the effort to get home.
Elizabeth came in an hour after I did, a coffee in each hand, one for her and one for me. She set mine down without a word, and went to her desk to start working through her list of calls for the morning. She’d brought a box with her, I saw, for her things, and at lunch she was starting to pack them as she ate the sandwich she’d brought from home. I’d ordered in from the deli, and I thought of asking her if she wanted anything, but I didn’t. We’d barely spoken to one another all morning, only brief work-related questions or statements, and the tension between us was tinged with awkwardness. After all the heat and struggle and denial, neither of us seemed to know what to say at the end. All I could think of was that I wanted to tell her not to go, but I knew she had to, at least for now. She had to go back to school.
By four-forty-five in the afternoon, her desk was packed, her call list was checked off, and she walked into my office with a stack of files. “Here’s the finished ones, Ethan.” I’d
nearly expected her to call me Mr. Sharpe, her demeanor was so stiff, and I was strangely grateful when she didn’t.
I stood up, and walked around the desk. She stuck her hand out. “It was nice working with you,” she said.
I took her palm, felt the heat of it, the softness. I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed her upper arms, bent my head, and kissed her. There was no gentleness, no caution. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, parting her lips, my grasp hard on her arms. I’d expected fight, expected her to push me away, but her mouth simply opened under mine, her tongue brushing up against mine, and I groaned, my cock hard in an instant. She pulled away, starting to say something, and before a word could come out of her mouth, I spun her to face away from me and pushed her up against the wall. I reached around her for the closure of her pants, my mouth on her neck.
“If you don’t want this, Elizabeth, tell me. You can go, of course. But goddamn it, I want you, and I don’t want to let you leave without fucking you one last time,” I growled in her ear, getting her pants loose. They dropped to the floor, and I tugged her panties down, plunging my fingers between her legs. She was wet, dripping for me, and her legs parted without a thought. She moaned as I flicked a finger over her clit, pulling her hips back and nudging her legs apart. “Do you want me?” I asked again.
“Yes,” she moaned. I could feel the tension in her body, knew that she was telling herself that she shouldn’t. I didn’t care. She’d said yes, and that was all that mattered to me. She wanted me.
I pulled my cock out faster than I could ever remember, and in a matter of seconds I was inside of her, to the hilt, my cock surrounded by her wet heat, throbbing around me, and I thought I might come on the spot.
She was pushing back against me, her hips grinding into my groin, and I reached for her clit, rubbing it with my fingers as I began to fuck her. It would be fast and hard, I couldn’t hold out for long. I knew she wouldn’t, either.
Somewhere in my thoughts was still the desire to hear her beg for it, to have her lashed and tied and spanked, her pleasure dragged out in degrees while I took mine as I willed. But for now, all I wanted was to feel her come on my cock, to feel her body shake while I fucked her and poured into her.
It didn’t take long. She was moaning, her fingers curled against the wall as she thrust back against me, amazingly balanced in her heels, and then I heard her murmur: “Oh, fuck!” and I knew that she was about to orgasm. I felt it, the fluttering followed by the grip of her muscles, and she was pushing back against me, her back arched and her legs trembling, and I grabbed her hips, fucking her harder than I ever had before, my cock all the way inside of her, and I felt it swell and throb, and then I was coming too, my hips jerking as all of the tension and frustration of the weeks prior poured out of me.
When it was done, I pulled away, gathering my clothes. I watched her stand up, legs still shaky, putting herself back together. She straightened, and faced me. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Goodbye, Ethan,” she said finally.
“Wait!” I called out. “Elizabeth, I…I want you to come work here. After graduation. Not as my assistant…in accounting. I think you have done a great job, and I want you to come back here.”
She looked at me for a long moment, and then she shook her head. “I can’t work here, Ethan. And you know why.” She looked pointedly at the spot where a moment before, I’d had her up against the wall, my cock buried in her. “Thank you for the opportunity. Goodbye, Mr. Sharpe.”
And with that, she turned and left, the door shutting firmly behind her, leaving me standing in my office.
I knew I had to do something. But what?
End of book 3
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Royal’s Confession
An Alpha Billionaire Series: Book 4
By: A.J Madison
The Royal’s Confession
Chapter 1
Ellie
The morning of graduation was bright and sunny, with a clear blue sky, the kind of day that everyone had been hoping for. It meant graduating out on the football field, instead of crammed into the musty auditorium.
It was the exact opposite of how I felt.
If I opened my email right now, I knew I would see no less than half a dozen job offers from accounting firms and banks. Chicago, Boston, New York, San Francisco. Nothing from Washington D.C. I thought I had resigned myself to the idea that I probably wouldn’t end up there, but it seemed that I hadn’t, really.
It had been three very long months since I had left and come back to school. In that time, I hadn’t heard one word from Ethan since that afternoon when I had walked out of his office. Not a text, a phone call, or an email. It was as if he’d forgotten about me entirely, the cover of our story shut and closed without another thought on his part.
It hadn’t been that easy for me. I’d thought about him for days, itched to call him, and talked myself out of it over and over again. I’d driven myself half-crazy over it. I’d dreamed about him, mostly about us together, the night in my room, the afternoon on his desk. I’d woken from those dreams disheveled and aching, wanting to buy a ticket straight back to D.C. and tell him that I’d been wrong. I didn’t.
I had, on the other hand, heard from Brian. He’d sent me a sweet message the day after I came back, asking if the trip had gone alright and if I had gotten settled. I’d let him know that I had, and not much more. He’d texted me a few more times, asking how the job search was going, and if I’d heard back from any of the firms in D.C. He didn’t ask about us, or our fledgling relationship—if that’s what it was—or mention the night we’d spent at his apartment just talking until we fell asleep, or any of the nights that had followed it, both talking and not. It was as if both of the men I had been involved with had forgotten that we had been involved at all.
Or maybe they had just been flings. Maybe I had made too much out of all of it, and I should be putting it all behind me and moving on.
I hadn’t answered any of the job offers. I knew that I would need to soon. I would need to decide which city was going to be mine, where my new, adult life would start. I would need to decide it without any lingering thoughts of Brian or Ethan, without disappointment that I wouldn’t be going to the city that I had thought I would be living in. Life didn’t always work the way that you planned, right? There were always curveballs and unexpected plans. Maybe moving to one of those cities would turn out to be the best decision I had ever made. I couldn’t possibly know for sure.
I turned away from the window, digging in my closet for a pair of flats to wear with the plain black dress I’d chosen to wear under my graduation gown. I’d staunchly refused to buy a new dress or even entertain the idea of shopping for one. It was just a day. One that I would get through, receive my hard-earned piece of paper, have lunch with my family, and come back to my dorm room to sit and make one of the biggest decisions I would ever make. All I really wanted was for the day to be over.
As I sat in my row of seats, waiting for my name to be called, absentmindedly scanning the bleachers for my family, I thought for a flash of a second that I saw Ethan’s face in the crowd. I knew I must be imagining things. It made no sense for him to be there. I hadn’t even heard from him. There was absolutely no scenario in which him being at my graduation ceremony made sense. And yet, in that m
oment when I’d thought I’d seen his face, my heart had leapt up just a little. It was foolish. But it had happened.
I made it through the ceremony, making it up the steps and shaking the dean’s hand, my rolled-up faux diploma in mine. By the time the ceremony was completely over and I’d made it out to the central fountain to take pictures with my family, I’d almost forgotten about thinking that I’d seen Ethan.
Which made coming face to face with him all that much more of a shock.
Ethan
That morning, I’d stood in my hotel room, putting on my suit, and wondered if this had all been a mistake.
I knew that an emailed offer of a job wouldn’t do it. If she’d turned down my offer the first time—although admittedly, I had chosen very poor timing—she was certain to do it again if I only sent it through the typical channels. If I showed up in person, I’d thought, that would show how very much I wanted her at the firm, not just as someone I couldn’t stop thinking about romantically, but as an employee. It would show that I valued her enough to make a professional, in-person offer, I’d thought.
Now, on the day, I felt foolish. Stalker-ish, even. Her family would be there. She might be embarrassed at my presence. She might even be angry.
I briefly considered backing out, heading back to D.C. She’d never know the difference. I could save myself from what was likely to be a very embarrassing situation.
I knew I would never forgive myself if I did, though. I’d always wonder if my gesture might have meant she’d come back. For good this time.
So I finished putting on my suit, called a driver, and headed over to the giant collegiate football field that was hosting Elizabeth’s college graduation. I sat among the bleachers, feeling out of place among the proud parents and bored siblings and screaming friends, and scanned the rows for Elizabeth’s face. I saw her, in one of the back rows, staring straight ahead, her face impassive.
