She dips her chin in deference, recognizing the gift of power I just bestowed on her. “We need to be discreet and careful. Neither of us wants our professional career marred with some office romance scandal. I’m here to learn, and you can teach me so much. I don’t want to lose that opportunity. Nor can you allow your apparently tenuous hold on the board to be muddied by it coming out that you’re fucking your intern.”
I grin. She’s not wrong. But I didn’t get to where I am now, sitting in this leather chair at the head of an international business empire, by playing it safe. Risk is inherent. Risk is what begets reward. When calculated correctly, risk is the stepping stone that jumps you ahead of all safe moves. “You’re right. But I’m not fucking my intern . . . yet,” I say, using her sexy crude language right back at her. “And I do have so much to teach you, Ms. Hunnington. For example . . . come here.”
“What?” she sputters, unsure at the game I’m playing because my plan is so counterintuitive to her own well-thought-out, responsible choice.
“Come. Here. Arianna.” I let the authority I have over her, both professional and intimate, filter into the words, giving them a heavy weight of command. She rises, slowly but surely walking to my side. I lean back in my chair for a moment, head tilted as I scan her up and down, intentionally pausing on the curves of her ass and tits. I can see her chest rising as her breathing gets faster. Without warning, I grab her hips, yanking her between my legs once again and pushing her back on my desk, just like she was before we were interrupted. Her gasp of surprise is like a shot of adrenaline through my veins. Her hands on my shoulders as she works to steady herself from the fast movement is the only thing holding me to earth.
“Lift.” She puts her palms on the desk, lifting her hips so I can slide her skirt back up to her waist. Her bare pussy is still wet for me, maybe even wetter, I realize, as I see the wetness spreading along her thighs from where she’s crossed her legs.
“I agree we need to be on our best behavior over the next couple of days while I smooth some ruffled feathers.”
She looks down at me, the fire back in her eyes. “You don’t strike me as a man who lets people tell him what to do.”
“I don’t,” I reply, spreading her legs and pulling her to the edge of the desk so that she’s right in front of my hungry eyes. “I do what I want. I’m just taking a few precautions. The long game. And even I know when some rules should be followed.”
She gasps as I grab handfuls of her lush thighs, pulling her pussy wide open so I can see every inch of her pinkness. “Doesn’t that mean—”
“And when some rules can be bent or broken. Don’t worry, doll, I still intend on giving you more than you can handle,” I continue, bending down to lick the seam where her leg joins her center. “I want a buildup . . . because I have something special planned.”
She practically melts for me, her ass grinding against the desk as she nears her edge again . . . but I have no intention of letting her come. Not yet. If I’m waiting, she can damn sure wait, following me into lust-induced madness too. “What’s that? Oh, God, this feels good.”
“This weekend,” I whisper, teasing her clit with feather-light flicks I know will torture her but not make her come, “you will stay at my place . . . and I’m going to give you what you want. You’ll like that, won’t you? Coming to my place . . . to learn what coming really means. Like you want to now.”
My clever girl fights back, though, chasing my tongue, and I’m so very tempted to give in and let her come all over my mouth. But then she speaks around her moans. “I don’t think . . . I shouldn’t.”
Fuck, this woman. I’m damn-near out of my mind, and she’s riding my face like it’s heaven she’s never imagined, but she still holds back from me, still has her faculties to doubt this. I promised her I’d impress her enough to earn the space between her thighs, but I didn’t know I’d have to work this fucking hard for it. I’m verging on saying fuck it and just giving in so she comes all over my mouth, but I hold back, knowing that my initial idea of teasing her until she crosses the line where need rules her body is still my best course of action.
I lay a sucking kiss on her clit, and her thighs clamp around my head, trying to keep me there. But I press her legs open with my elbows, spreading her pussy with my hands. She’s right there on the edge. I know one touch will send her over. I look up at her, waiting for her eyes to snap to mine in impatience. “This weekend . . . we’ll see.”
And with that, I lay one last chaste kiss to her bare mound, avoiding her clit where she desperately wants me, and then sit back in my chair. Never breaking eye contact, I wipe her juices from my lips, slipping a finger into my mouth to taste her once more. She huffs, confused for a second, and I see the moment her orgasm falls away, the lust clears, and she glares at me. It might be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
She shoves me out of the way, jumping from the desk and shoving her skirt down. “Mother fucker. Ugh, I can’t believe you.” She keeps murmuring, and I hear my name a few times as she gets closer to the door.
Right as she reaches for the doorknob, I call out. “Arianna.” She stops, barely turning her head to look at me. “Negotiation lesson. Everyone comes to the table with something of value, some more valuable, some less. But everyone has something. You have what I want . . . that hot, virgin pussy that I know will feel so sweet coming on my cock. I have what you want.”
I pause and her eyes spark. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. “Not that, Arianna. I’ve already told you I know you’re no whore. I won’t be trading business for pleasure. What I bring to the table . . . is me. My desire to fuck you, show you what your body can handle, teach you about all the wonders the flesh can offer.” Even I know there’s more to it than that, but physical pleasure is all I can promise right now, and I hope it’s enough.
“I do want that,” she says, but the confession isn’t the soft admission I’d expect it to be. “But I want that with one man, The One. Nothing more and nothing less. And though you tempt me . . .” She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, do you tempt me. I know the value of what I bring to the table, Mr. Blackstone. Sometimes, the real thing is worth the price you have to pay.” She says the words like she’s quoting something or someone, like she found a hidden well of strength deep within her to resist my charms.
But as she leaves, defiantly looking at me with a glare I’m sure she thinks is frosty, I can see the heat, the desire burning hot inside her. I’ve already got her. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Chapter 7
Arianna
Dear Diary,
It’s been insanely hard behaving over the past few days. Every day, Liam looks at me like a starving wolf, ready to devour my body. Though I tried to stick with the cold shoulder, he quickly wore me down. I’m such a sucker, but the way his eyes track me is heady, making me feel simultaneously at his mercy and powerful, and when I get close enough, he brushes against me, subtle touches that make me burn at the contact.
Every word carries sexual undertones, and I have to admit to trying to give as good as I’m getting. I tempt him, whether to look down my blouse or to see that I’m wearing a thong. I know it makes his dick hard and hungry, and I can’t help but leave these encounters with a smile, feeling victorious even though I’m playing with fire.
The power dynamic between us is constantly changing. One second, I’m teasing him, feeling every bit the vixen I’m really not, and the next, he’s got me shoved up against the window as he demands ‘just a taste’. And even though he hasn’t let me come since that first day, I obey every time, futilely hoping he’ll let me come this time but enjoying the way he tortures me regardless.
The only thing not making me lose my mind is that he’s letting me use mine, staying true to his promise to teach me. We’ve discussed his business evaluation of Morgan, past, present, and future. We’ve talked about negotiation tactics and management techniques, and I’ve been lucky enough to sit in on several meetings to take
notes, though Jacob is always there too since he’s Liam’s right-hand man and has a rather amazing business mind of his own. The three of us even went to lunch yesterday, and just listening to them talk about their experiences was better than any college lecture I’ve ever had.
It’s all been this tightrope walk of balance, professional and personal, intimate and formal, business and pleasure. And while I know I’ve impressed Liam a few times with my thoughts as he’s questioned me, I’ll admit that he’s impressed me too.
But is that enough? Enough to give in on a rule I made for myself? Even if it wasn’t for some big moral, ethical stance, but rather a fear-induced boundary to keep my heart safe from further hurt. But giving in might lead to exactly that, a much deeper pain than I’ve ever felt before. The folks back home who said shit, I didn’t really care about them one way or the other.
But Liam? I am starting to care, especially as I get to know him better and see the good inside him that he dresses up in the cocky asshole business façade. It’s a good front and gets the job done, because it’s not like a ball-busting CEO can be a nice guy who politely asks for things. But the real Liam is a good guy just trying to make a difference and succeed.
Late one night, when it was just the two of us in the office, he even told me the story of how his dad didn’t want him taking over the family business. He’d said that the critical words gave him the push to fight harder, work longer, and be stronger, but I could see the cutting pain his dad’s careless words had caused.
That Liam, vulnerable and sweet, mixed with the business one, cold and calculating, and topped with his heavy-handedness with me, dominant and sexy, is doing a weird number on my mind, my body, my heart. And I’m actually considering going to his place this weekend.
* * *
Grabbing a stack of papers out of the ‘work’ box Jacob set up for me, I see they need to be copied and collated for the board meeting on Monday. It’s busy work that’ll at least keep me occupied. Anything is better than the quiet humming office white noise.
Just as I round the corner to the copy room, I run into someone, startling me so much I drop my stack of papers. “Oh!”
“Sorry about that,” the guy says, bending down to pick up my papers before I can move. Thankfully, the stack was double-binder-clipped together so it’s not a scattered mess.
“Me too . . . sorry. And thank you,” I say as he stands back upright and hands the papers to me. I realize I know this guy. Though he’s not particularly attractive, his black slightly dorky glasses are memorable. “Uhm, Melvin, right? I mean, Mr. Jackson.” Shit. I totally just collided with the VP who’s helping Liam.
He smiles. “You remembered?” He seems genuinely surprised. “Call me Melvin, please. Arianna, right?”
I nod. Usually, I’d be thrilled that a VP remembered my name, but though his eyes are solidly on mine and completely appropriate, there’s something a little off about the guy. Like he’s not checking me out, thank God, but he’s analyzing me somehow. Though I remember now that he is a number cruncher, so maybe that’s just how he is?
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, finally giving me a cursory head-to-toe glance.
“No, not at all. Just surprised me. Sorry again.”
Feeling like the accidental interaction has reached a reasonable end and sure that Melvin has better things to do than chat with an intern, I turn to the copier and begin placing the stack of papers into the feed tray.
“Oh, I can show you a little trick for that,” he says, coming over to my side. He doesn’t wait for me to move, just reaches in front of me and starts pushing buttons on the big copy machine.
“I’ve got it. Thanks, though. I’m sure you have stuff to do.” I try to argue politely.
“I insist. This will save you tons of time. See?” He taps on the screen, where the expected job completion time is now four minutes instead of the nine it had been when I’d set up the job differently.
I smile politely. “Thanks.”
And cue . . . silence. Awkward silence.
Finally, he breaks the quiet. “So, are you enjoying your work for Liam?”
It strikes me as odd that he calls him Liam since he was all ‘Mr. Blackstone’ when they met before, but I guess I switch in and out of the casual name usage as well. Come to think of it, so does Jacob. So maybe that’s just the norm around here.
“I am. I’ve spent the majority of my summer internship manning the front desk, which was great. But I’m definitely learning more with Mr. Blackstone and Mr. Wilkes.” It’s a great rah-rah, nothing critical answer, but still truthful.
Melvin smiles, but his eyes narrow. It’s an odd expression, like he can’t decide what the proper response should be. “I’m sure. But I do feel I should warn you . . .” He pauses, looking over his shoulder at the empty doorway. “Be careful, Arianna. Liam has a huge ego and a tendency to be an asshole.” He flinches, like the word was hard for him to say, and I get the feeling he doesn’t curse much. That’s kind of refreshing these days when folks drop F-bombs like nothing, myself included in that group. “He’s not particularly well-liked around here, so while you may be learning from him, you’re at a disadvantage because not many people will want to work with you after knowing that Liam provided your business education. I’m sure you’re hoping to get hired on in the fall—interns always are—but don’t get too close or your image will be tied up with his and that could be disastrous.”
I’m shocked, first that Melvin is telling me this stuff. I know he’s supposed to be Liam’s top-secret information mole or whatever, but sharing all that with some intern seems rather loose-lipped if I’m honest. Plus, it feels vaguely threatening, like I won’t get hired on because I work with Liam, but I figured working for the CEO would help make me a shoe-in for a fall position. I’m not sure how to respond, so I hedge. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Jackson. That’s definitely something to keep in mind.”
He blinks three times in rapid succession, his face blank. “Do remember and be careful, Arianna. I’d hate to see a young professional get side-tracked. I could put in a good word for you. I usually have a fall part-time staffer in my office to help with end-of-year report preparation. You’d like that. We should get coffee and discuss it.”
Working with Melvin sounds like the ninth ring of hell, awkward and boring, but I try to be polite. “Thanks so much, Mr. Jackson. I’m really busy for Mr. Blackstone right now, but I’ll talk to Mr. Wilkes about my fall placement.” I have no intention of doing so unless it’s to beg Jacob to not place me in the Business Analysis department.
“Melvin, please,” he says, catching on that I’ve been calling him Mr. Jackson to distance myself a bit.
Thankfully, there’s a commotion in the hallway, and I see Liam and Jacob walk by, lost in conversation as several other people in suits follow behind them. The copy machine beeps, and I think saved by the bell to myself. I grab the stack of printouts and turn. “Thanks so much, Melvin,” I say, emphasizing his name, which makes him smile wanly. “But I’d better get back to the office and see if Mr. Blackstone or Mr. Wilkes needs anything.”
“Of course,” he says, stepping away, and I realize just how close he was. “Remember to be careful. Coffee next week?” he calls out, but I’m already out the door and down the hallway.
I hustle down the hall, catching up to Liam and Jacob. Jacob veers to his desk, and I follow Liam into his office, biting my lip as I watch his tight, firm ass flex in his pants. His suit today is especially slim-fitting, probably Italian, and making him look like a GQ model. I swear he gets better-looking each day that passes.
I don’t bother telling him about the encounter with Melvin. I don’t want to get involved in office politics. Besides, Liam seems rather exasperated post-meeting, much different from the usual cockily assured self he was this morning.
“How’d the meeting go?” I ask as Liam pours himself a soda water. “Anything interesting that you can tell me?”
He shakes his head, drain
ing his glass in a swallow. “The usual. Someone proposes an idea, and the board squabbles over it, trying to pick it apart. Problem is, most of their ideas would’ve been great twenty years ago. Now, not so much.”
“So, what happens in the end?” I ask, and Liam chuckles, setting his glass down and walking toward his desk. He drops into his leather chair, looking like the frustrated king of a wayward country.
“Either they get with the times or I come up with the solution myself. It was a waste of precious time as they argued the pros and cons of useless ideas.” I walk over to his desk, retracing his footsteps, but instead of the chair, I perch on the desk next to him.
“Tell me about the ideas. Maybe it’ll help to go through them methodically to see if there’s anything salvageable. Maybe you can combine a sprinkle of this and dash of that and create something the board will appreciate but still gets you the result you’re looking for.”
He nods and begins talking through the various proposals that were presented at the meeting. Usually, I’d be tuned in closely, absorbing every word and learning. But right now, I’m distracted. I’m enveloped by the masculine scent of his aftershave as he gestures with his hands. I watch as he scrubs a hand along the scruff on his jawline before threading his hands through his hair, mussing it, but somehow, it only looks sexier when it’s slightly rough.
The frustration is palpable in his words, and as he gets to the end of his rant, I cross my legs. His eyes snap to my thighs. “I could think of a million other things I’d rather be doing than rehashing that meeting.” He skims a finger along my thigh, the skirt not hiding the heat of his touch. “Or whom I’d rather be doing.”
The fact that he shares with me, wants my opinion, wants me, makes me feel so powerful. Turning to him, I do something I haven’t done before, take control. I don’t give myself time to have second thoughts or doubts about the intelligence of my actions. I just go with it, wanting to follow my own desires and see where that leads. I rise, moving to stand between his spread legs, and place my hands on the armrests of his chair to bend forward, invading his space. “You seem stressed. Maybe I could help you relax?”
Leather and Lace Page 7
