by Daphne Dawn
“Are you suggesting I need therapy?” Leon asks, incredulous and his surprise seems to trump has anger for a moment.
I shake my head. “I’m not suggesting, Leon. Sort yourself out. I would hate to see you leave us like this. A run as good as yours should end with a happy retirement, not with being fired for insubordination.”
“You won’t fire me,” Leon says.
I sigh. “I don’t want to, but if you push me hard enough, I will.”
Leon’s face is turning red as his anger flares again.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” he says, and he jabs a finger at me. It pisses me off when people point at me, but I try to let it slide. Leon is unstable right now. He needs to calm down, and if I rise to his anger with my own it’s just going to spiral out of control. I’m proud of myself for holding onto my calm for so long. If Leon keeps pushing me, I’ll snap at some point. But it won’t be today.
“Leon, let’s focus on the problem at hand, okay?
“Ha!” Leon barks a laugh. “The problem at hand? If you think I’m just going to let this slide, you’re wrong. I’ve been around here long enough to know what it looks like if something’s going on. I’ve seen it firsthand. And it never ends well. Mark my words, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
I sigh. I can only be calm for so long. I can’t suppress the anger forever. I have to either explode or let it drain away, so I do the latter. I feel the anger slipping away until all that’s left is fatigue. I’m so tired of this shit with Leon.
“I told you to go home, Leon. Take the day. Hell, take the week if you must. Pull yourself together before you come back to the office, okay?”
“This isn’t over, Wes,” he says. The anger in his voice is wound just as tight as before. He hasn’t calmed down at all. That’s what bothers me – that he’ll keep going like this until something blows up in my face.
“Yes, Leon, it is.” I look at him, my eyes empty. “Go home. I’m not going to say it again. If you make me repeat it, I’m going to tell you not to come back.”
Leon narrows his eyes at me. I see him wanting to challenge me like a defiant child, to test the limit. But I’m not joking, and I think he can see it in my eyes because he turns around without saying another word and storms to my office door. He lets himself out and slams it shut so hard the pen holder on my desk rattles.
I sigh and turn my swivel chair toward the window, looking out over San Francisco. I don’t know how to deal with Leon. He’s right; I don’t want to fire him. But he’s pushing me further and further, and he’s threatening to find out all these things about Kylie and me. There is nothing to discover, as far as I’m concerned. We’re careful now. Yes, we’re breaking the rules, but we’re doing it in private.
And with every day that passes, I’m growing more and more certain that there’s nothing to discover about Kylie. I’m starting to doubt my sources altogether about her ulterior motives. Yeah, there have been moments when she’s acted strangely. But that could just be nerves about losing her job, exactly like she says. What if she’s not out to get me or RidgeCo?
It’s what I want to believe. Because where I started out just wanting to fuck her over for messing with my company, now all I want is just to fuck her. Every day and every night.
I don’t think Leon will find anything. I don’t think I have anything to be nervous about if neither of us says anything about it to anyone. Not in the office and not outside of it. Secrets have a way of biting you in the ass when they come out, and I don’t want that to happen.
Leon doesn’t like Kylie. I’m not sure why – and strangely enough, I don’t think it’s actually about me and her at all. I think Leon is just grabbing for something to use against us. He’s hated the idea of promoting her to project manager from the start. He never liked the idea of having her around. I’m sure that even if she weren’t interested in me at all and we never slept together, he would have said the same things and been just as unhappy about the whole thing as he is, now.
I must deal with him, but I don’t know how.
At least, I know he has no proof of anything. Kylie was right to worry about Leon, but I know he won’t have anything to hold against us. It’s what’s saving us right now. If anything, it makes Leon look more unstable than he already is, and if it does go to the board, they’ll look at him like he’s crazy just like everyone else is.
I saw how Clive looked at him earlier when Leon went on about her spreading her legs. His lips were curled in a smile. He thought it ridiculous. Because that’s exactly what Leon is being.
No, everything Leon points out only makes him look worse. It does nothing to us, not without proof. Everyone knows that Leon is hurting, that since he found out about the cancer, he’s slowly been slipping into some form of madness. I keep him on because he is still good at what he does, and I feel sorry for him, but that’s not going to last forever. I don’t know which way to turn to sort this out, to fix it.
Kylie
The Fireplace Bar is full tonight. I don’t come here often but Paris and I were out on the town, and it was pumping here. Usually, I don’t go out on Fridays with how hard I work, but I needed to get out and see my friend for a change, let down my hair, blow off some steam.
By the time we arrive at the Fireplace Bar, we’re already well on our way past the legal limit. We drank at two bars prior to this one. The crowds were dying despite the alcohol flowing freely, which was why we left.
Fireplace isn’t a club. It’s a chill bar. But they’re playing great music, and the alcohol burns through my veins. When Paris grabs me and pulls me into the middle of the dance floor with her, we both start to dance.
It’s been too long since I’ve seen Paris. She doesn’t work, so she can go out all the time, and it makes me feel left out sometimes, but she’s loyal and always willing to compromise. Her rich daddy still gives her an allowance, which funds her lifestyle and our nights out.
She’s a stunner, too. Dark hair cut into a pixie style, ice blue eyes and an athletic body. She’s the opposite of what I am. Maybe that’s why we work so well together. We don’t have the same hobbies, taste in music, food, clothes or men. It’s one of the reasons our friendship has lasted longer than most other people’s.
Only our dresses are remotely similar. Mine is black and clings to my body. Hers is blue and does the same.
“This music is awesome!” Paris shouts above the noise. She moves to the music like she’s making love to it. I can’t dance like that. I notice that all the men in the bar are staring at her, and they should. She’s sexy when she dances.
I nod and move awkwardly next to her. I’m drunk, but that doesn’t mean I can suddenly dance.
“What’s up with you?” Paris asks, leaning closer so I can hear her over the music. “You’re so distracted tonight.”
I shrug. I’ve been thinking about Wes a lot. He’s on my mind constantly, lately.
“Let’s a get a drink,” I say. “I’ll tell you about it at the bar.”
Paris nods, and we push our way through the crowd to find an open space next to the bar. I order a cocktail. Paris goes straight for the shots. When she’s paid for our drinks – Paris takes her shot. I take the other one she ordered before chasing it with my cocktail. The rooms swims around me, and I feel deliciously light and airy. All my problems are back behind the wall of alcohol, and I can enjoy myself.
“Remember I told you about my boss? Wes?” I ask.
Paris nod.
I look at my drink. “Well, I fucked him.”
I glanced up at Paris to see her reaction. She looks stunned for a moment.
“Oh. My. God.” She blinks at me. I shake my head, laughing. “Wow.”
I nod. “Yeah, wow is about right. I would use that to describe him, too.”
Paris smiles, finally digesting the information. “This is the guy who runs the company? The CEO?” I nod again, and she furrows her brow. “But your plans. I thought you wanted to—”<
br />
I shake my head to cut her off and look around. Logically, I know nobody is going to overhear us and blow my whole secret. But I’m irrationally concerned. Mostly because I’m seriously considering dumping the whole idea. Now that things are progressing well with my job and Wes has turned out to be so amazing, I feel like my old vendetta against RidgeCo is just that. Old. Not worth dragging out again when there are so many great new things I need to be focusing on. Like Wes.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she cries out, dropping the topic of my so-called revenge and returning to the crazier one of me fucking my boss. “That’s something I would do. You know, if I had a job and an insanely hot boss.”
I laugh again. Paris is the wild one. She goes home with strangers for one night stands and breaks every rule she can find. She’s all about having fun and living for the moment. One day, she’ll settle down. One day. She always says that.
“You have to tell me everything,” she says. “Is he good?”
“God, yes.” I round my mouth into an O and she laughs.
“We did it twice,” I say.
“What?”
I nod. “In his office and at his place.”
Paris is still grinning. “In his office? God, that’s dirty. And hot! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I’m still smiling but my stomach twists. I’m still a little unsure about what we’re doing and that someone might catch us. Especially if I’m contemplating keeping my job and forgetting all the shit in the past. And Paris is right; it is dirty. I’m surprised to find out just how dirty I like it. But I don’t tell her that.
“I don’t usually do this,” I say. “But there’s something irresistible about him.”
Paris nods. “I totally get that.”
I sip my drink while Paris cross-questions me about facts. When my cocktail is done, I need to pee.
“I’m going to the restroom,” I say. Paris nods, and I leave her at the bar. I do my business, wash my hands and check my hair. I feel good that I told Paris. I’ll fill her in on the rest, later, but I needed to get that out. My head still spins a little, and I don’t look the same as I usually do when I look at myself in the mirror. Alcohol does that to you.
When I go back to the bar, Paris is talking to some guy. She gets male attention all the time. She’s flirting – I can see it from a mile away. When she spots me coming back to the bar she frantically waves at me.
“This is Brad,” she says. “Brad bought us celebratory shots.”
“Why?” I ask. “What are we celebrating?
“You!” Paris cries. “You, and your bold step to fuck your boss.”
I glance at Brad who is grinning ear to ear. He’s staring at Paris likes he wants a piece of her. He lifts his shot and nods at me. Paris does the same. I laugh and accept the shot they offer me. We throw the shots back together and slam our glasses down on the bar. Paris is drunk, and Brad only has eyes for her.
“We’re going to sit down for a bit,” Paris says to me. “Do you mind?”
I shake my head. I know she wants to make out with him. If he’s a good kisser, she’s going to go home with him. Her list of requirements isn’t all that long.
I stay at the bar and order another cocktail. I sip it, looking out at the people drinking and talking around me. Everyone looks so chilled, so happy. Am I the only one with a complicated life? Maybe not, but it feels that way sometimes.
By the time I’m done with my drink Paris still hasn’t returned. I dial her number, and she answers just before I get her voicemail.
“I left with Brad,” she says right away.
“Be safe,” I tell her and hang up. I almost expected this to happen. I push my glass away and decide to leave, too. I’m not interested in the men, here. I only have one man on my mind.
I flag a cab outside and give him Wes’s address. It’s late, almost midnight, but I don’t think he’ll mind. The cab ride is quick to his place – I’m not sure if I dozed off a little – and the driver drops me in front of Wes’s place. I make my way to the front door and ring the bell.
Wes opens not much later. He looks a little surprised.
“Kylie,” he says.
“Are you alone?” I ask, and I’m not sure why I do. I guess I just want to know that it’s safe to come in and take him.
He’s wearing only boxer shorts. I let my eyes slide down his body. His abs are defined, his skin is smooth, and he has a smattering of chest hair across his pectorals. I look down at his boxers. He’s not as hard as I like him. Yet.
That can be changed. And he’s already getting there fast.
I step into the house without being invited and wrap my arms around his body. I press myself against him, feeling the line of his body, and I feel his cock harden against me. I grind my crotch against his cock.
“Are you drunk?” he asks against my lips.
“Just lubricated,” I say.
He grins at my joke. My body responds to his immediately, and I’m wet right away. I feel myself melting into my panties.
“You look like sex on a stick,” Wes says between kisses.
I don’t answer. I don’t have anything to say. Wes doesn’t have much clothing to get rid of so I don’t start undressing him the way I was planning to when I arrived. Instead, I kneel before him and pull down his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and eager. The tip is slick with lust. I press my lips against the tip and lick him, tasting him. He’s salty. The skin is smooth, stretched over his hardness. Silk over iron.
I take him into my mouth and Wes groans. His hands automatically go for my hair, and I bob my head, taking him into my mouth sucking him off.
“What’s gotten into you?” Wes asks.
I look up at him, my mouth still around his cock. I let him go just long enough to answer.
“Hopefully in the next couple of minutes, you.”
I don’t give him much time to digest my joke before taking him into my mouth again. I hum while I suck him off, sending vibrations into his cock and he moans.
“God, Kylie, I’m going to come if you do that.”
I keep doing it because I don’t care. Let him come. I keep bobbing my head, fucking him with my mouth. I want him to shoot his load down my throat.
He pulls out at the last minute, and I look up at him, pouting.
“Don’t do that, baby. Don’t pout,” he says. “I just makes me want to fuck your mouth that much more.”
He pulls me up and against him. His cock presses against me and I want it inside of me.
Wes reaches for my dress and pulls it up, peeling it off my body. I stand in front of him in the black lace underwear ensemble I chose to wear tonight. He stares at me like he’s drinking me in with his eyes.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he says. He steps closer to me. One hand goes around my waist, the other to my pussy. He cups me over the material of the thong I’m wearing. I know I’ve soaked through my panties. He rubs me through the material, and I moan.
He moves his other hand around as he rubs my breast through my bra as well. My nipples are erect, and he pinches one, pulling, never moving my bra. He’s teasing me, and I love it, and I hate it, all at the same time.
I’m breathing hard, gasping. The mixture of alcohol and Wes makes me so horny I feel like I will spontaneously combust.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I say to him.
“Why?”
He’s asking me just to hear me say it. I’ll say it if that’s what he wants. I’m not shy, tonight.
“Because I want to fuck you.”
His face changes, hunger dominating his features. He pulls me against him, hard, his hand groping me roughly. He pulls the bra away and pinches my nipple. His other hand finds its way under my thong, and he pushes two fingers into my entrance without warning. I cry out because it’s exactly what I need.
He finger fucks me for all of two seconds before he lets me go again. He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs. I follow him, feeling like a porn st
ar walking there in lace underwear and high heels.
In the bedroom, Wes turns around. He strips himself of the boxers, and his cock seems bigger than before. He helps me get rid of my underwear, and I step out of the heels before he takes me to the bed. He pushes me so that I lie down, and he dives between my legs.
Wes
Eating Kylie out is one of my favorite things. She tastes like heaven. Heaven and sex. Her pussy is small, and when I stick my tongue into her, she’s so wet. I lick along the length of her slit, flicking my tongue across her clit and she writhes on the bed.
She’s naked, and I run my hands over her body while her sex is pressed into my mouth and her legs are over my shoulders.
I didn’t expect her to come over, tonight. I’m not at all upset that she did. I was ready to go to bed when she appeared like a vision in a tight black dress and a hell of a lot of sex appeal. Stripping that dress off her body was one of the most delicious things I’ve done. Everything with her, though, is fucking fantastic.
I work my tongue over her clit, alternating licking with sucking but I don’t want her to come. Not yet. I want to deny her an orgasm until she’s so close to exploding that it becomes sensational. I listen to how she sounds, her gasping and moaning, I feel her body contract beneath me, and I know when I should let up.
The third time I stop her from coming she whimpers in protest, but I have other things in mind for her. I grab hold of her hips and flip her onto her stomach. I pull her up so that her ass points at me and get onto the bed behind her. It doesn’t take a lot of guidance to get my cock to her entrance, and I push into her.
She cries out. I pull out and do it again, a little harder this time. I love it when she cries out. Her moans are sexy as fuck, and I want her to scream for me.
I hold her steady with my hands on her hips and start fucking her, hard. I slam into her and pull out again, pushing myself into her as deep as I’ll go. Her body rocks back and forth. Her chest is on the mattress so that her body is at an angle and she has the covers gripped in both fists. She cries out every time I slam into her, and I love the sound.
