Text Me, Tweet Me, Need Me

by Susie Medwell

  The warmth of his breath bathed her lips, the heat of his body reached out to her. She stretched up, closing the distance between them, her mouth stopping millimeters from his, her tongue wetting first her lips, and then slowly gliding over his. He groaned, his lips parted, his tongue met hers and then she could taste him. Taste the mix of caffeine, of mint, of sex. His warm hands were on her waist, holding her firm and for the first time in days nothing else mattered. She was dimly aware of the pressure of his thumbs against her ribcage, against her breasts, of the sudden thrills that were shooting lower and lower down in her stomach, the warm dampness between her thighs.

  “I want you so much.” He fumbled with the door to the ensuite, pushing it awkwardly open, stripped his top off. Then he pulled her close again so that the world narrowed down to the warmth of his skin, the satin smoothness dancing under her touch. She traced a finger down his chest, followed the arrow of hair down his stomach, his gentle groan deepening the ache inside her.

  “Sam.” He reached out to unbutton her top, but she stopped him. She had to do this herself; it had to be her choice. He slowly stripped the rest of his clothes off, flicked the jet of water on. Not saying anything.

  She could stop now. Ignore him and walk away. Or she could join him, in his shower, next to his office with his perfect secretary still typing away on the other side of the wall.

  He stepped in. She couldn’t help herself, she walked over and her gaze locked onto his back; broad shoulders and perfect slim hips. Perfect toned ass. As she’d known it would be.

  He stood perfectly still, his face raised to let the water stream over it. His eyes closed, only his erection betraying his awareness of her.

  Her hands shook as she unbuttoned her jacket and her skirt slipped on to the floor, her gaze never leaving him. Then it was his turn, a tremble running through him as she put her hands against his back, but he didn’t make a sound or move a muscle.

  * * * *

  Ben savored the moment, eyes shut, as her hands slowly traced their way down over his chest, rippling over his abs. Her warm breasts pressed against his back, the feel of her hardened nipples heightening his awareness of her. Warm, knowing hands had started off tentatively on his back, now slipped around him. Then she was turning him greedily and it took every last bit of his self control to allow the sweet torture, to let her take control, let her mouth explore his chest, feeling the surge of power it sent through his body. He gasped as her nails traced down his sides, as her lips scorched their way down. Her tongue traced the water down him and he watched mesmerized as her mouth opened, as the water dripped off him into her. It was a battle between the agony of waiting, of the need to take control, the ecstasy of letting her do what she wanted. His fingers raked through her hair, willing her to take him, needing to feel the soft, wet warmth. Slowly her lips closed around him and he gasped, fighting off the sudden rush of pleasure, and as her mouth slid up his shaft he knew he couldn’t stand it much longer. He tried to pull her up, to stop her before it was too late, and to give her pleasure before he surrendered to his own. But she was kneading his thighs with her hands, was teasing with her tongue, her teeth, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to say no, didn’t want to take control. And then he knew he didn’t have a choice. The decision had been made for him.

  When she looked up at him all he saw was the doubt in her eyes, a nervousness that jarred with what she had just done. For a second she looked lost, slowly standing, unsure of what to do next. He reached out, pulling her close when she would have moved away. Captured her sweet mouth with his. “You’re so beautiful you know.” He gently parted her thighs, stroked upwards, finding a dampness and a heat that aroused him all over again. Her soft moan sent his fingers probing deeper, exploring, seeking out the pleasure zones that would send her to a place he was sure she’d never known before. The deep hazel eyes that gazed into his were dark with desire, the doubts gone, the pleasure surrendered to. She threw her head back, trusting him to hold her safe, her leg wrapping around his hip and then she was there, exploding around his fingers with a cry that was almost triumphant ringing out in the tiled room. He paused, letting her take the moment, waiting for it to pass. Then slowly wrapped his arms around her, letting the water run over both of them.

  He wanted so much to push her back against the wall, wanted to drive deep inside her until her nails were raking his sides and her mouth desperately seeking his. Tongue forced upon tongue. Her cry muffled as he felt her legs open wider, willing him deeper, as he saw the ripples build, felt her body start to contract around him. But he could wait. Today was about her, not him.

  ****

  “Coffee?” He was putting his cufflinks on, looking immaculate in a charcoal business suit. No sign of sex in the shower man. That could have been an illusion, except for the slightly damp curls at the nape of his neck.

  She did need the coffee though. A whisky would have been good too. She couldn’t stop her hand trembling as she flicked through the pages of the file. It would help if he went away. Except it was his office. And she was supposed to be shadowing him, building up material for her profile. Problem was so far it was all X-rated. At least there was a hairdryer in the bathroom, but he would have one wouldn’t he? Be prepared. No doubt he had been in the boy scouts.

  He was watching her she suddenly realized.

  “What?” She knew she sounded defensive.

  But what was she supposed to sound like? Grateful?

  “Is there a problem? You’ve not said a word.”

  “Look, I’m trying to prove to you I can do a decent job.”

  “Oh I think you just proved that.”

  She glared. “I’m being serious.”

  “So was I.” He studied her, his head tilted. “I know you can do a serious job, or believe me, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “We haven’t done anything yet and it’s nearly lunchtime.”

  He raised an elegant eyebrow, which she chose to ignore.

  Safer.

  “Are you always this serious?”

  “Yes.” She shot him a glance. “I like my job, it’s important to me.”

  “What happened to the girl I met online?”

  “She’s a fantasy.”

  “Hey.” He paused by her desk, his voice soft. “She just felt real enough to me in the shower. I’m not sure if you’re running from yourself or me, but its time you slowed down. The Sam I met needs to live a little and not always play it safe. If you’re not careful you’ll lose her.” He brushed the hair back from her face with a touch that was almost too gentle to bear. “And that would be sad.”

  * * * *

  “What the hell is all this crap about online dating, Dave?” The anger had simmered in Sam during the drive over and was now bubbling closer to the surface.

  After Ben had gone to his meeting she admitted defeat and gave up on the pretence of working. She needed to get out of there and so the obvious solution would be to go and tackle the next thing on her ‘to do’ list. Challenge her editor about the tweet that could have dropped her in it and ruined everything.

  Dave blinked at her with goldfish eyes behind the thick glasses and rubbed his weak chin to buy time.

  “Who gave you this, Dave? You promised me it could wait, and now you print this crap.” He edged back slightly and the shutters came down. “You don’t need a teaser if I get the profile, do you, you idiot?”

  “It won’t do any harm.” His ‘there there’ voice grated on her nerves. What he’d done was bad enough, listening to his platitudes was just the icing on the cake. And she didn’t want decorations, she wanted the truth.

  “It will if he tears my contract up and throws it away.”

  “Look Sam, why should he care? It’s all publicity for him.” If he shrugged just one more time she’d explode. Or give in to the urge to slap him.

  “He doesn’t really do publicity though, does he? Hadn’t that thought crossed your mind? Duh! Who suggested it?”

&n
bsp; “That doesn’t matter, dear.”

  “It does to me and don’t dear me.”

  “Just forget it, come for a beer. We’ll sort it all out in the morning.”

  “Delete that post now. And tell me who wrote it.”

  He was weak and a bully and he’d worked in this business long enough to know how to lie and squirm his way out of anything. And boy was he trying now. “I’m freelance now remember, I owe you nothing. I’ll walk.” She ground the heel in, wanting him to squirm, just a little. “I’ll find someone else to sell this profile to.”

  “You wouldn’t Sam. You owe me.”

  “Fuck that. You sacked me!”

  There was a nervous edge to his laugh. “I’ll get the post deleted now.” He shouted a brief instruction over her head to one of the juniors. “Okay? And you know it wasn’t anything to do with you, it was just last in first out. Someone had to go Sam, I had to let you go and I have found freelance stuff for you haven’t I?”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” Freelance stuff that a monkey in a coma could do. “Who posted it, Dave?’”

  “Oh we were just chatting about it in the meeting; a few of the guys thought it would be fun, spice things up.”

  “Fun?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot you don’t do fun do you? Lighten up, girl.” The cocky edge was back in his voice. Crisis over, he had already moved on.

  “It was Andy, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh come on, girl, you can’t blame him for everything.” His voice wavered, just a jot, and his gaze flicked away from her face. Confirming without a doubt that she was right, it was Andy.

  “No one else knew. Well if Solway rips up my contract you know where the blame lies now, don’t you?” Her stomach was churning again and she bit the inside of her cheek so sharply that the sweet taste of blood filled her mouth, which was better than the sharp bile that was biting the back of her throat.

  Andy was determined to mess up her life and he was doing whatever it took. Even stalking her by the looks of it, which was the only explanation for him being in that wine bar, on that day, at that time.

  Getting the truth from Dave was like drawing blood from a stone, but he knew she’d guessed the truth and she knew he’d pass the word on. Now maybe Andy would get the message, and maybe, just maybe she could convince Ben she was up to the job.

  * * * *

  The file on Mike was sparse, which was strange considering how thorough Ben was about everything. He had done a small amount of work for Mr. Solway senior. Nothing outstanding, just some research, mainly on the state of publishing, rather than news stories. Facts and figures about sales, about e-publishing, and about social trends. She snapped the file shut and threw it on the floor, which doubled as her home filing system.

  There was something not quite right, something didn’t add up. Sherlock Holmes she definitely wasn’t, but it was almost as though it was a smokescreen, put together just for her, in case it was needed. There was something missing and she didn’t know what, or why it mattered. She tucked her feet under her on the couch and stared at the paperwork. Maybe he knew how Mike had died, why Mike had died. Maybe that was what this was about, he felt sorry for her. Or he was covering something up. Like a guilty conscience.

  Whatever, she couldn’t work for him. She wasn’t taking this amount of shit from any man ever again, not even if it meant losing work. It had been one lie after another. He’d set her up, lied about knowing Mike. Lied once then lied again. Like every man she’d known, even Mike himself. He’d almost made her believe that the whole Mike thing didn’t matter, that she was worth something. And what was all that about, sex? And she’d fallen for it, she’d trusted him, had sex with him. Or as good as. And it had been mind blowing, but now he probably just thought she was a complete slut anyway.

  The lump in her throat grew and she swallowed hard to clear it. Hadn’t she been told by Andy often enough that she shouldn’t try and take the lead, that only prostitutes did that? But she’d forgotten, been carried away with the moment, the craving to give pleasure, to receive it. Hot tears threatened to spill over and she twisted her fingers together and took a deep breath. She’d thought he’d just been shocked, but maybe it had been disgust.

  And he knew Andy. Which was bad. She could take the coward’s way out and text him. Or she could call him. She knew she needed to ring him, so she did, and when he didn’t answer, for the first time in years she took the easy option. Her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she left the voicemail, “I can’t work for you.” Then she opened a bottle of wine.

  Chapter 5

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She was hanging on to the door, staring up at him and swaying slightly. And he wasn’t quite sure if it made him more angry, or less.

  Her gaze dropped to his feet and she giggled. “Big feet, big dick.”

  “Sorry?’ Now he was confused. She was either totally drunk or had completely lost the plot.

  “That’s what we used to say at school, and I know all about your big feet don’t I?”

  “Sam.”

  “There was a song called Ben wasn’t there?” She switched her gaze back to his face and her green eyes seemed bigger and darker than ever, eyes you could get lost in. “About a rat if I remember. Are you a cute rat or a lying rat Ben?”

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Well done, Sherlock.”

  “What does that message mean?”

  “It means what it says.” The slur kind of spoilt her attempt at dignified but made her that bit harder to resist.

  “You’ve got to work with me, we agreed.”

  “Got to?” She laughed and staggered slightly, letting go of the door her grip transferring to the front of his jacket to steady herself. “Hey, mister rat nobody ever tells me I’ve got to do something.”

  “You’re drunk.” He sniffed at her breath, totally unnecessary seeing as she was clutching a half-empty wine glass in her free hand, but it gave him an excuse to move a bit closer.

  “Yay.”

  “Do you want to sit down?”

  “I think I might.” She sank down onto the hall carpet, which wasn’t quite what he had in mind. He pushed the door shut, stepped over her legs and squatted down beside her.

  “Mm… nice aftershave, did your last girlfriend buy it?”

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about or not?”

  “Probably not.”

  Ben sighed, a sudden urge to run his hands through her long hair shot through him, to pull her close, to take advantage of her drunken state. But that would be despicable. Tempting, but despicable. And she’d probably pass out.

  “Did you want a drink, or did you come here for another screw? A commitment-free one, of course. Seeing as you don’t do women, you just do sex.”

  “I came to find out what that message was about.”

  “Oh yes.” She put a hand on his thigh, and then took another sip of wine. He had jeans on, but the way the heat shot through him he might as well have been naked.

  “Tell you what.” She was squeezing now, and he really wished she wouldn’t. “You help me finish this bottle, then I’ll explain why I never want to see you again, then you can go. How’s that?”

  To give her credit, even drunk her mind seemed to be working in its own semi-logical manner.

  “Sure if that’s what you want.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, even if it was lame. He clambered to his feet, escaping her hand before it made other parts of him stand to attention. She was looking up at him as though expecting assistance. All doe-eyed, tousled. Ripe for bed. “Shall we go and sit down on the couch, or do you want to stay here?”

  She shook her head, hair cascading around her delicate features and it suddenly struck him how ethereal she looked, almost too delicate for this world. He was losing it. She was real and she was tough. And she was causing him all kinds of problems right now.

  He took one hand and she rose gracefully to her feet, h
er breasts brushing against his chest, her dark eyelashes masking her eyes for a moment.

  “I’m not falling over drunk, just a bit wobbly that’s all.”

  He smiled, took a step backward while he still could. The wine was good, but probably he decided not that good for his self control.

  * * * *

  “When Mike was doing that work for you it was the same time he started publishing those leaks.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, curling her feet under her like a cat.

  “True.” He missed the warmth of her body pressed against him. It had been cosy in the hallway.

  “You knew what he was doing.”

  “Maybe.” He stretched his feet out, relaxing into the couch, not quite sure where this new tirade about Mike was leading. But it was obviously going somewhere from the intense concentration on her face.

  “You paid him to do it.”

  “Nope.” He took another swallow of the wine, enjoying the coldness in his throat. Chablis, he should have known. Except it was bringing disturbing memories back of the last time they’d shared a bottle of wine, stirring his body even more.

  “Don’t just say nope like that.”

  “I wasn’t paying him. We got on, discussed stuff, he was good at what he did and that was that. Mike’s crusade for good against the evil of the world was a sole crusade. He was a big boy. It was up to him what he did.”

  “You knew what he was doing and you could have stopped him.”

  “Is that what this is all about? No one could have stopped him. You know that as well as me.”

  “Someone managed it.” He looked at the suddenly forlorn face. Little girl lost, fighting too many demons. Mike had been playing a dangerous game, leaking secret documents, telling the world not to believe everything they read, telling the world that every politician, every media man had his price and could be bought. Tweeting like some out of control budgie.

  Not a route to popularity. He had been threatened yes, but killed? With a lifestyle like Mike had, any number of things or people could have been responsible. But Ben had a feeling that greed and a woman were the key factors. Even Mike wasn’t impervious to either of those.