by Roya Carmen
I’ve told myself I can’t lay a hand on her because I’m her employer. However, if we could come to an arrangement, I’m sure we could get past this most frustrating obstacle. But how do I broach the subject? I don’t want to offend her, nor do I want to scare her.
I can’t betray Olivia’s memory, but there’s no reason why what I have with Ruby needs to be any different than what I have with Anita – a purely sexual relationship, an agreement to satisfy each other’s needs. I need to taste Ruby, breathe in her scent, touch every inch of her soft skin, bury my face in that gorgeous mane of hair, and sink into her warmth. I need her.
Ruby
HR Situation #3
Boss gets employee fuck-me heels and asks her to wear them. Employee loves said heels very much and wants to wear them to arouse employer.
God, this is getting worse, I admit as I abandon my keyboard to rub my forehead. My sex is still hot and wet from our encounter, and I know I won’t be able to get anything done for the rest of the day. Why doesn’t he just make a move and fuck me already?
I know that can’t happen. He’s my boss. I feel like banging my head against my desk. I check my watch – thank God, only one hour to go.
I don’t see August again. I sigh as I peel off my amazing new shoes to put on my boots – I don’t want to take them off.
When I get home, I’m happy to see everyone’s here: Amber and Aiden, Trevor, and my big brother Flynn, who has popped in for dinner. Sweet little Trevor hugs me at the waist as he always does. I need my family and friends right now. I need the distraction.
We have a feast of roast chicken, sweet potatoes, corn, salad, and homemade bread. The inn isn’t busy at this time of year, so Amber cooks and bakes to keep herself busy. These days, she also lives vicariously through me. She always asks me about my day, digging for dirt. I haven’t said too much because there’s just not that much to say, but today I have something. As I indulge in the final crumb of Amber’s delicious strawberry shortcake, I tell her I have something to show her.
After dinner, she follows me to the entry hall, and I pull out the brown box and show her the shoes.
She cocks a brow, confused. “Nice. I like the red soles.”
I roll my eyes. “They’re Louboutins.” But I’m sure she has no clue what that means. My big sister doesn’t read fashion or gossip magazines. “August gave them to me.”
She smiles with confusion written all over her face. “That’s kind of strange, isn’t it? Your boss giving you shoes?”
“I know, right? But he loves to see me in heels.” I bite my bottom lip. Just the thought of it arouses me.
“Jeez, Ruby! That’s totally sexual harassment. Your boss is a creep.”
My jaw hangs. “He is not. He’s a nice guy.”
“I thought he was just a weirdo who never leaves his house and likes birds, but this? This is wrong.”
I feel my temperature rising – she’s getting to me. “It’s not! It was a gift of apology. And it’s just shoes, for crying out loud.”
Flynn pipes in, towering over us. “What’s up? I can’t believe you girls still fight. This is just like old times.”
I glare at him. I hadn’t noticed him following us, and as much as I love my big brother, he’s always had a way of sticking his big nose in our affairs. He says it’s because he cares, but I think he’s just nosy. “None of your business, Flynn.”
“Oh, I think Flynn should hear this,” Amber says. “So you know how Ruby has this new job, right?”
He nods, his gaze travelling slowly from Amber to me.
Amber goes on. “Anyway, she’s working for the guy across the street – Hyde—”
“She’s working for Hyde?” Flynn blurts out, slack-jawed. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” He turns to me. “You can’t work for that guy. He was suspected of his wife’s murder, for Christ’s sake. Are you alone in the house with him?” Flynn is no longer just being playful. He’s serious as a heart attack, and I can tell he’s truly concerned.
“Uh…” I stammer a little, shaken. “No, there’s Millie… she’s his assistant. She cooks and does laundry and stuff, runs errands.”
“He was wrongly suspected,” Amber tells Flynn. “That’s what I heard.”
He seems to breathe easier when he asks, “How long have you worked for him?”
“Not very long, but he’s fine. He’s a normal man,” I say. “A little standoffish, but he’s normal enough…” Visions from his books fill my brain: the bondage; the physical abuse; the blood, and the filth and gore. “Uh, he’s fine.” I think instead about all the beautiful things: his cozy sweaters, the cheese, Johnny Cash, and Miko of course… sweet Miko. I know deep in my heart that August Hyde is a good man. “I’m not in any danger.”
Unfortunately, Amber isn’t quite done with me. She still holds my shoe when she tells Flynn, “He gave her fancy high heels because he wants her to wear them for him. Probably gets off on it.”
Flynn is literally at a loss for words. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him unable to speak.
Aiden walks by, beer in hand, and halts when he detects drama. I roll my eyes. Not another one. It’s three against one now.
“Hey, you worked for Hyde, right?” Flynn asks him.
Aiden nods and drains his bottle of beer. “Yeah, why?”
“Normal guy or serial killer?”
Aiden cracks up, but his laughter fades into a strange combination of a smile and a wince. “He’s a strange one. He’s a stickler – everything has to be exactly just so. He didn’t strike me as a people person. He was kind of a jerk actually.”
I practically growl when I say, “He’s not a jerk.”
“Not the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Aiden goes on. “But no, not a serial killer. Actually, he was pretty cool when the renos were all done. He paid me well and said he’d recommend me.”
I wave. “See? He’s a nice guy. He got me the damn shoes because he knows I like shoes. That’s all.”
Flynn nods. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, Rubes,” he says with his usual soft voice, and I just can’t be upset with him. “And if he does anything weird, get out of there fast and come to me, and I’ll go set him straight.”
I smile. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
He shrugs. “I’m always here. You know that, right?”
He pulls me to him and wraps me into a big bear hug. I melt because a girl needs a hug from her big brother once in a while.
Flynn and Amber’s words swim in my head like talking decapitated heads in a horror movie.
The guy was suspected of his wife’s murder.
I heard he was wrongly suspected.
I toss and turn. I can’t fall asleep. The clock flashes 12:11 a.m. Pulling my covers with me, I drag myself out of bed. I reach for my laptop, fire it up, and take it to my bed with me. A little Googling is in order.
After my Googling session, I feel a hundred pounds lighter. When I’d searched for August Hyde, there was no indication of a murder trial or investigation or anything of the sort. There were tons of results: his Web site, podcasts, blogger reviews, articles in the New York Times, National Post, Macleans magazine, USA Today. And there was an article about a movie deal with some big movie studio. I’m shocked. I’d had no idea his books were so popular.
Then I devour his Wikipedia page. He studied at McGill University and went on to be a high school history teacher. He then published a series of dark romance stories on a popular fan fiction site. The stories were extremely popular and garnered interest from a large publisher, and the rest is history.
Personal information. His wife: Olivia Hyde – deceased.
With a smile, I picture August wearing an Oxford jacket and wielding a yardstick in front of a classroom of unruly teenagers. Sexy…
I log on to Facebook, distracted. I’m happy to see I have messages waiting for me. My heart stops when I click on the small speech bubble icon and see two messages – one from Sonia and the ot
her from August. I completely ignore Sonia’s message and jump right to August’s.
Thank you for all your feedback on my manuscript. It was quite appreciated.
I don’t quite know how to reply. I opt for something courteous and businesslike.
My pleasure! I enjoyed it
I debate for ages whether I should conclude with a smiley face or a winky face… or nothing. What to do? What to do? Finally, I opt for the smiley face – friendly but not too flirty. I hit Send.
I check Sonia’s message – some long-winded rant about her sister again. I roll my eyes as I read her profanity-filled ramblings.
Another message pops up. Strange… I’m completely shocked when I get another message from August. It’s twelve thirty in the morning. Why is he not in bed? Or working? What’s he doing on social media at this hour?
Your feedback was spot-on actually
I smile, biting my lip. I think Mr. Hyde wants to play. I struggle to think of a flirty, witty reply but come up short.
I’m happy to hear that
So lame.
I particularly enjoyed all the hearts you scribbled – next to all the filthy parts. You enjoy the dirty bits, don’t you?
My core fills with heavy arousal. He’s much better at this than I am. My stomach is queasy with anticipation when I reply.
I do. ;)
You wicked girl…
He quickly responds.
Oh my God… Yes, the man definitely wants to play, but I’m not as good at this as he is. I wonder if he does this often. With other women? With his fans? I decide that I don’t care. He’s all mine tonight.
I love your books… I love how filthy they are…
But he leaves me hanging. I wait and wait, but there are no dancing dots. There is no message coming. And disappointment fills me to the core.
Ginger and I startle when my laptop rings. A window pops up.
Incoming call – August Hyde is calling
My heart pounds as I consider the options for a fraction of a second: Decline or Answer. My finger is shaking as I click on the blue box.
“H-hello,” I say nervously.
“Hi…” His voice is softer than usual, not the deep-toned, authoritative voice I’m used to.
I almost melt. I can’t see him – I only see his profile pic of the mysterious dark-suited man. “Hi…”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been writing all day. My fingers are about to fall off.”
“That’s okay, August.” I love the feel of his name on my lips. “I like talking like this. I like the sound of your voice.” I have no idea where this conversation is going, but he can take it anywhere.
Anywhere he wants to go.
Ruby
“I enjoy the sound of your voice too,” he says softly. “I seem to hear it even better like this.”
I smile. “Well, Miko’s not there to drown me out.”
He laughs, and even his laughter is arousing me. Truly, I’m a hopeless cause.
“Where are you? Are you in your bedroom?”
I’m taken aback by his question. If there was any doubt, it’s pretty clear now – this call is not about work. “Yes, I’m in my bed.”
He lets out a sigh but doesn’t say a word.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I’m in bed too.”
I instantly picture him. I wonder if he sleeps in boxers or completely naked. I picture him in classy, dark silk pyjamas. Any way you slice it, he’s sexy. I bite my lip, wanting to take this conversation to the edges of impropriety. “What are you wearing?” I joke with a chuckle.
He laughs… and pauses. “Nothing.”
Oh my sweet heavens… I hope he’s not kidding.
“What are you wearing?” he asks without a touch of humour in his voice. It’s pure seduction.
Oh my… “Hold up.”
Although no one in the house ever ventures up here to the attic, I scurry down my stairs and lock my door. I bound back up, and when I reach my bed again, I’m winded. My heart beats a little faster, and the arousal grows.
“Nothing. I’m wearing nothing,” I say with a chuckle. I’m giggly, and I don’t know why. I suppose I’m just not very good at this phone sex thing or whatever the hell this is. All I know is that I like it… very much.
“I like you in nothing…” he says, his words slow.
I stare down at my flannel pyjamas, feeling like a big fat liar. “Actually, I’m not really naked… I’m wearing PJs.” Nice, Ruby. Way to ruin the fantasy.
“I see…”
I smack my palm against my forehead. I’m so not good at this.
“Tell me about them,” he says. “Tell me about your PJs… and your bed too. I want to visualize the scene. Paint me a picture with words.”
Paint me a picture with words.
“I-I’m afraid I’m not quite as good as you as painting pictures with words,” I say, “but I can try.”
“Try,” he whispers.
I drown in arousal. My heart works harder too – I can feel its beat everywhere. My belly feels heavy as a wonderful heat fills my core and makes my nipples tighten. Suddenly, I want to tear off the flannel and be naked for him. “My bed is an old wrought-iron bed… very vintage.”
I can almost hear the smile on his face when he says, “I like that. I bet you can’t get too wild on that – I’m sure it would be noisy.”
I laugh because it’s true. “You’re right, but it’s quite lovely. It has large brass posts and is covered in a thick, colourful quilt my grandmother made.”
I hear his smile again when he says, “That’s nice… but I really don’t want to talk about your grandmother at the moment, Ruby.”
Yes, my filthy boy wants to play. “My pyjamas are pink flannel with cute little penguins all over them. And underneath, there’s nothing…”
“Nice, but I hate penguins.”
I laugh. “You hate penguins?”
“I despise them. Odd, abominable creatures.”
I laugh, knowing he’s kidding.
“I’m afraid they must go,” he says.
“I think you’re right…” I say breathlessly.
His voice is stern yet softens when he says, “Take them off.”
I close my eyes and reach for the top button. I undo it eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
As I undo all the buttons slowly, my breath runs away from me. With each button undone, I become more aroused. I hear nothing from him, but I know he’s waiting. “I’m undoing my buttons. Now I’m peeling off my pyjama top.”
“Are your breasts bare?” he asks, so soft and sweet. There is nothing lewd or crass about his tone.
“Yes…”
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Stroke your breasts.”
I close my eyes and do as I’m told. My touch feels amazing, and I’m more aware of it and sensitive to my own touch than I’ve ever been before.
“Tell me what you feel.”
I swallow hard. “My nipples are hard… my breasts are soft.”
He groans, the sound surprisingly loud. “God, I wish I could touch you…”
I trail my hand down my torso and reach for my sex. My hand rubs over the thick flannel of my pyjama pants – the man is driving me crazy. “God, I wish that too.”
“Take off the bottoms now,” he orders. I can tell he’s aroused, and that only turns me on more.
“Yes, sir,” I say as I slide my hand over the curve of my hip.
As I hike my rear off the bed, the bed clanks against the wall. I peel off the flannel pants as fast as I can and wiggle my feet out. The room is cold, but I’m hot like fire. I stretch out on the bed and arch my back, awaiting his commands. I wonder where he’ll take me next. My sex yearns for the soft, sweet sound of his voice.
“Are you fully nude now, Ruby?” he asks, his voice ragged.
I wonder if he’s truly naked. If he’s stroking his cock as he bosses me around. I hope he is. I want him to get off on this as much as I am. �
�Yes…”
“Perfect. You’re beautiful,” he says softly.
I laugh a little. “How would you know? You can’t see me.”
His voice is playful when he says, “I just know. I’ve imagined you a million times. And you’re absolutely exquisite.”
Fuck… I drag my hand to my sex, desperately wanting to touch myself.
“Ruby?” he says.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
I laugh. “You know what I’m doing.”
“No, no, no,” he scolds. “Bring that hand back up. Right now.”
Yes, boss.
“You do as I say,” he says. “Even if I can’t touch you, I still control your pleasure.”
“Oh, is that so? Who says you’re in charge, sir?”
“Me,” he deadpans. “If you don’t want to play by my rules, we can stop playing right now.”
I don’t want to stop playing. I want this so badly I can almost taste it. “Yes, sir. I’ll play by your rules.”
“Good girl. Now, I want you to listen carefully and do exactly as I say.”
I’ve been with my share of men, but I don’t think I’ve ever been bossed around. I’ve always considered myself a strong, independent woman, yet I find myself wanting to be submissive for him, wanting to be at his whims.
“Suck your finger,” he says, and suddenly he sounds like the man I work with – his voice is deep, authoritative, and all-consuming.
I suck my index finger, awaiting his next command.
“Now trail your finger to your breast and trace your nipple softly. Tease yourself.”
I close my eyes. I want him to keep talking all night. I like the idea of teasing myself because I want this to go on forever – it feels so sinfully delicious. I’m extremely responsive as I touch myself, and a war breaks out at my core. My body wants to climax, but my mind reins me in because I don’t want to let go of August.
