by Cheri Wood
My eyes snap open with the vibration of an incoming message, yanking me out of my fantasy.
Lose the towel
“Patience, Mr. Hush,” I click my tongue, trying to regain some semblance of control. As I undo the knot, though, I know I’m already lost to him. My nipples are stiff beads and I’m soaking wet, not from the shower, but from the inside out.
Tell me how I make you come
Well, that won’t be too hard. I’m halfway there already. “Mm. Your hands. Your mouth. When you kiss me, I melt. I’m yours. Your hands are like branding irons on my skin, I feel like I’m on fire wherever you touch. When you let me go, I feel numb and cold. I don’t want you to let go, I don’t want you to ever stop touching me.”
As the words leave my lips, they seem to grow, to fill the space in my empty bedroom. Then they bounce off the walls and slam into my gut, taking my breath away. I’m in love with him. Crap. I stare at the screen, paralyzed, and as another message comes in, I end the call and power off.
I don’t know for how long I sit curled up with my back against the headboard just staring at the dead screen, but eventually I pull the covers over me and fall asleep.
VII
I look around the filled-to-capacity conference room and marvel at how every single person in attendance is focused on Nick. His voice and manner demands attention, and he keeps it by being witty and engaging. A natural born speaker.
My feet are killing me from running around all day to make sure everything is set up and that everyone leaves with an information packet on the Nova Corporation. How am I going to stay alert for the banquet when I’m already ready to crawl into bed?
“He is too gorgeous,” I hear a female voice say, followed by a dreamy sigh. I look over to see two young women – probably college girls – walking close together, their focus on Nick.
“Can you imagine what he looks like naked?” the other girl joins in, sounding very much like she’s on the verge of swooning.
“What do you say we find out?” the first one says. “There’s no way he’d turn down a threesome, right?”
My jaw drops. Those girls are probably fifteen years younger than Nick. As they drift out of earshot I can’t help but think about their plotting. Would Nick go for something like that? A freebie Cindy/Mindy experience, if you will. It’s supposedly many men’s fantasy, right? Is it Nick’s, too?
I shake my head to rid my mind of dirty thoughts about my boss. What Nick Astor does or does not get up to in the privacy of his own bedroom is none of my concern. However, my dirty mind is quick to return its focus and I feel my cheeks heat as it conjures up all sorts of scenarios taking place in the privacy of his bedroom. Luckily, I’m saved by a round of applause breaking through the haze of my steamy thoughts. I quickly join in and watch as Nick leaves the stage, shaking hands as he goes like a politician on tour. He weaves his way through the crowd in much the same manner until he reaches me.
“Well done,” I tell him, smiling broadly. “You had them eating out of the palm of your hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if we run out of promotion packets.”
“Speaking of, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you in charge of the promotional material. They’re doing a panel judging of start-up ideas and I’ve been asked to sit in and evaluate investment potential. I won’t be able to join you until the banquet.”
“That’s fine. It’s what I’m here for, after all.” I pat his shoulder. “Go. Evaluate.”
“Thanks, Callie. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says and pecks my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” The small gesture makes my smile linger and warmth spreads through my body. It’s been a long time since I felt appreciated.
GCS
After handing out the last of our promotional material, I have time for a quick shower before I have to head back down to the conference hall, which has now been transformed into a banquet hall. A hostess asks for my name and I’m shown to a round table with six high-back dining chairs. I’m the first one at the table, so I wait behind the chair, looking around the room as more and more diners are shown to their seats. I sneak a glance at the seating cards. To my left is a Mr. Gordon Bromwell, and I recognize his name from one of the trade organization rosters. If I’m not mistaken, he’s chairman of the board. To my right, Nick’s name stands out in gold print.
My thoughts go to another dinner party where I was seated next to Nick, the one where we first met. A chill goes through me as I realize there’s a strong possibility that past clients may be in attendance. Nick is pulling me into the spotlight in a way Tom never does. As Tom’s wife, I am only occasionally required to attend functions, and those are usually only attended by other lawyers. As Nick’s assistant, however, I’ll be thrust into a throng of prominent businessmen, many of whom I’ve offered services to in the past. If anyone recognizes me, will they say something to Nick and embarrass him? Or will they laugh at him behind his back for not knowing what kind of woman he has working for him?
A warm hand settles on my lower back and I look up to see Nick looking back at me with concern. “Are you all right?”
I nod and plaster on a smile. There’s no point in crying over milk that hasn’t even been spilt yet. “A little tired. How did the panel thing go?”
“It went well. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine. I can wait for dinner to be served.”
“All right. You look beautiful, by the way,” he says and pulls out my chair for me.
I’m pretty sure I’m blushing, if the sudden heat is any indication, but I manage to murmur a thank you. The dress I bought for the banquet is pale lavender with a pleated bodice and a silky skirt. I’ve put my hair up so that only a few curled tresses frame my face. It looked all right when I last checked the mirror, but you never know when an updo might cave in on you.
GCS
About an hour into dinner, I’m feeling relaxed. Not because of the wine, but because I haven’t spotted a single former client of mine, and because Nick is doing his best to include me in conversation. It’s hard to resist comparing him to Tom.
To Tom, I’m arm candy, the little lady that is best kept out of conversations with important people. Nick, on the other hand, is treating me like an equal, despite the fact that I’m merely his assistant.
“What?” He shoots me an inquisitive look. Was I staring?
I blink. “Sorry?”
“You just had an odd look on your face, that’s all,” he says with a bemused smile.
“Is it gone?” I joke.
“Yup. All gone. Listen,” he leans in to speak close to my ear, his five o’clock shadow rasping my cheek. “If you’re bored stiff, you can fake a headache and go on up to your room. I’ll stay and represent.”
“Like I’d leave my boss to fend for himself.” I click my tongue and pull away from him. We’re sitting way too close together for people not to think something’s going on between us. I turn away from him and focus on Mr. Bromwell, who apparently recently bought himself a second yacht. I know next to nothing about boating – or yachting, for that matter – so he has the perfect excuse to give a lecture on the topic.
Our plates are eventually cleared away and the band starts to play dance-friendly music. Well, for couples over the age of 50, at least. I’m blinking away exhaustion, trying to stay focused on what Mr. Bromwell is saying about flags, when a hand squeezes my shoulder. I look up to see Nick standing just behind me and when he has my attention, he holds his hand out, palm up.
“May I have this dance, Mrs. Norton?” he asks and I nod, putting my hand in his. I excuse myself to Mr. Bromwell and then I’m swept into a pair of strong arms. He holds me at a proper distance – ensuring a dance space between our bodies that would make Johnny Castle proud – but it still feels odd to be dancing with him.
“You looked like you were in need of rescuing,” he says after a few turns. “Once you get Bromwell going about his yachting, his off-button tends to malfunction.”
“It’s been a long day for you, hasn’t it?” He tilts his head as he searches my face. Can he see the bags under my eyes or have my eyes turned as red as they feel?
“I’m fine. I’m grateful for the room, though. I don’t know how I would have stayed awake all the way out to Long Island tonight.”
“You should call it a night. Take a late checkout tomorrow, really get some rest. I don’t want you working yourself too hard.”
“You’re sweet.”
“No. Just selfish. Go on, get out of here,” he says just as the music stops and people applaud the band.
“Okay. Thank you,” I smile, feeling the exhaustion taking over my body.
I ride the elevator up to my floor, barely able to keep my eyes open. When I step inside my room, there is a vase of roses sitting on the dresser and I pick up the card. Thank you for all your help – N/A. I smile at Nick’s way of initialing his note and stop to smell the roses. They’re a beautiful pale pink with long stems and they fill my nostrils with their delicate scent.
Stretching, I head into the bathroom for a sorely needed shower. When I return to the room wrapped in a luxurious towel, I notice my cell phone blinking on the dresser. If this is Tom checking up on me… I shake my head and pick it up.
Are you alone? –Hush
I feel a jolt of excitement go through me. I haven’t met with him for a couple of weeks now, being unable to get away from work on weeknights and working through most of my lunch hours to get everything in place for this seminar and banquet on top of my regular workload.
You’ve caught me in a towel again, I type back, sitting down on the edge of the bed to comb through my hair with my fingers.
*groans*
I laugh. Wish you were here. It’s true. It’s like all – well, most – of the exhaustion has been swept away by the torrent of anticipation that his text brought.
Me too. Guess the neighbors would get suspicious if I showed up at your house – or apartment.
I smile. He’s fishing. How do you know I have neighbors? Maybe I live in a cave.
Give me directions and I’m there
I’m in a hotel, actually, I type, feeling naughty.
Can I come?
I bite my lip, holding back a giggle. It’s a dangerous game, but I’m already on the river, there’s no folding now. Only if I can, too.
Which hotel? Which room?
The Marquis. Room 12050. Yeah, definitely no turning back now.
30 minutes
My pulse increases exponentially with his confirmation. I look around the room, scouting for articles of clothing lying about or documents that might reveal my true identity. I do a full sweep of the room and bathroom and dress in my bra and panties.
Neither my work clothes nor my banquet dress seems right to wear for a meeting with Mr. Hush, and I don’t have a silk robe or sexy sleepwear with me. After all, I fully intended to spend the night alone. Luckily, the dress I wore for the banquet required a push-up bra to complete the silhouette and I wore the matching string panties, lace and silk in pale lavender, so I don’t have to be embarrassed about my outfit.
I wait for him on the edge of the bed, my heart beating a faster tattoo than what is probably healthy in the long run. It’s almost like the first time I took a meeting, filled with nervous energy.
I was in conference room H, standing in the middle of the room wearing only a silk robe and spikier heels than I’d ever worn before. When the door opened I thought I was going to have a heart attack or pass out, but the client didn’t seem the least bit fazed. He simply sat down in the chair and spread his legs, making a gesture for me to disrobe and get on with it.
My hands shook as I unzipped him and I used too much lotion, but he just looked up at the ceiling and groaned as I worked him as best as I could. He didn’t say much except for a couple of expletives here and there until he was on the cusp of orgasm. Then he pushed me away and took over, spilling himself across my breasts. I gasped at the act but his eyes were closed, his mouth open, and I realized I had brought him pleasure just by being there. When he’d drained himself, he grabbed a tissue and cleaned himself off, telling me to rub his jizz into my skin. I did and he left.
Mr. Hush has never done that to me. He doesn’t seem to take pleasure in defacing my body or in getting some faux porn star performance out of me.
A knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts and I wipe my hands on my knees, walking over to answer. Before I can, though, an envelope slides underneath. Curious, I pick it up and open it. It’s a white lace blindfold. I put it on and open the door. He’s wearing the mask and a white dress shirt with his black tie undone around his neck.
“What took you so long?” My teasing comment comes out more like a seductive whisper and he cups my face like water in a mountain stream, drinking me in like a man parched. I mewl as he backs me towards the bed, kissing me deeply. It’s safe to say no man has ever touched me like this, never made me feel this way.
My fingers deftly unbutton his shirt so that I can smooth my palms across the expanse of his chest. The white lace lets me see more of his absolutely gorgeous body than before and I can’t wait to get a close-up of his magnificent cock.
He showers me with kisses and I caress his strong back. I long to feel him inside me again, but I also need something else, something to make this encounter different from all those he’s paid for in the past.
“I want to tie you up,” I whisper in his ear, one hand cradling his neck. He stops and pulls away, and I worry I’ve scared him off, popped our little fantasy bubble with my request. Then he kneels on the bed, pulling his tie from around his neck and handing it over. I take it with nothing short of reverence. He’s relinquishing control to me. I could take off his mask if I wanted to. And I do want to, but it has to be his choice.
I gently push on his chest to have him lie down, and then I loop the tie around his wrists, attaching them to the metal headboard. It’s more for show than anything, because I don’t actually know how to use a tie this way.
I rake my fingernails down his chest, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for him to feel it. I straddle his hips and reach behind me to unclasp my bra. Then I lean forward again so that he can feel my pointed nipples against his skin. I raise myself up, place my hands on his abs, and start to rock gently against him. I feel his bulge growing under the fabric of his pants and I increase the pressure until he’s groaning and bucking.
When I decide he’s had enough friction, I ease down his legs and carefully free him of his pants and boxers. His cock is long, hard and throbbing as I close my hand around it. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip and I run my thumb over it. With a firm grip around his base, I take him in my mouth, alternating between licking and sucking until I can tell he’s close to erupting.
Then, I crawl off the bed and, while he watches, hook my thumbs in the waistline of my panties and with my back turned, slide them down my legs so that he’ll have a good view of my best asset. I pick the panties up and give them a theatrical twirl before tossing them over my shoulder and crawling back onto the bed, once again straddling his hips.
This time, however, I hover above him so that his head nudges my entrance. I can tell by the tension in his body that if his hands were allowed free reign, he’d be gripping my hips hard right about now, driving himself inside. I grin and move a little, teasing him. Unfortunately, by holding him off, I’m also depriving myself of the feel of his hardness buried deep in my soft core. Unable to take it any longer, I sink down on him, letting out a moan in tune with his guttural groan. Once he’s buried to the hilt, I have to collect myself before I start moving on him. It shouldn’t feel this good. The lines are all blurred. I’m having an affair with this man and I don’t even know what he looks like or what his real name is.
He bucks and I take the non
-verbal cue to ride him properly. The faster I move, the more I lose touch with reality and enter a haze of pleasure until I’m mindlessly driving us both to completion. He erupts like a volcano and I feel the lava from my own core leave my body in a pulsating flow. I collapse on top of him with him still inside me as my walls tremble in the aftershocks. I undo the bonds and kiss him deeply.
“Heaven help me, I can’t get enough of you,” I sigh. He caresses my arms and slides his hands down to cup my buttocks, and damn, I can feel him harden inside me. He rolls me beneath him and pulls out, scooting down my body until he’s between my thighs with his tongue parting my folds. There is an unusual pattern to his strokes, and I realize he’s spelling out two words. Me too. I come with my legs wrapped around his neck.
GCS
I must have dozed off, because I wake up lying in his arms, his half-masted cock nestled between my butt cheeks. His hand is cupping my breast, rolling and pinching the peak in between simply ghosting his fingers across my skin.
I push back against the cradle of his hips and his hand moves to grip my hip. His leg urges mine forward and I go willingly, leaving him enough space to fit himself inside me. He rocks his hips against me and I groan. When he urges me onto my knees, I happily follow his lead. I grab a hold of the metal headboard to brace myself as he picks up the pace, slamming into me.
Unh. Unh. Unh. I can’t believe I’m about to have my third orgasm of the night. Orgasms aren’t exactly guaranteed in my line of work. Then again, I’m not working right now.
Mr. Hush reaches around me to strum my clit and my body explodes. It’s so intense I don’t even realize he’s not right there with me, tumbling over the edge. So completely loose are my limbs that I barely tense up as he withdraws and reenters me through the much tighter channel. Holding me up by my hips, it’s there he takes his pleasure.
