by Sage Rae
“Right down to the bright little smile,” Penelope sneered. She whipped toward the door, sauntering. Dan stood to follow her, reaching into his back pocket to draw out his pack of cigarettes. He winked back at Carter, as if that made up for everything.
But Carter sensed Winnie slipping through his fingers. Carter burned with a million things to say to his brother and his fiancé. He wanted to tell them to keep their fucked-up relationship to themselves. To stop tainting the world around them, just to enrage and play with one another. In the absence of any sort of sexual life, they turned outward—Dan with his cock, and Penelope with her wicked words.
Carter had had enough. He spun toward the back entrance, haughty and angry, his hands in fists. He strode down the street, his hand flashing through the muggy night air. A taxi steamed to a stop beside him, and he hopped in. Everything he did seemed instinctual, as if he was always meant to race after her. As if his body was a magnet, guided back to her.
Carter sped through the lobby, smacking his finger against the elevator button over and over again, so that it flashed orange, then grey, then orange again. “Come the fuck on,” he muttered, stabbing his hand on his fist. Behind him, an older couple, both wearing grey suits, frowned at him. Their lips were pressed together tight, wrinkles forming along the edges. When was the last time they’d kissed?
Finally, the elevator arrived, and he bolted into it, feeling sweat bead up along his neck. The elderly couple joined him, with the man grunting something to the woman in a language Carter didn’t speak. Was it German? It was hard and cold and abrasive, and yet, in response, the woman slipped her fingers into his. Was this the language of their love?
Carter hadn’t understood love. Hadn’t understood the spark between people that made you do enormous, colossal, strange things, and say words that felt heavy in your chest. But now, his eyes focused on the crack in the elevator. He counted the seconds, cursing that he wasn’t yet there. Cursing the distance between them.
“Alles gut?” the man asked him, his grizzled eyebrows lowering.
“Yes. Yes. No…” Carter grumbled, turning his fingers across his forehead.
Finally, the elevator doors snapped open. He shot out of them, down the hall, already lifting his hand to knock on her door. The blast of his knuckles echoed through her apartment. He huffed, praying he’d made it in time. In time to stop her.
He heard the light footsteps, and immediately sighed. The door unlatched, the knob turned. And there, in the crack of the doorway, was his pretty Winnie: already wearing one of her Texas sundresses, her hair down and curling along her shoulder blades. Her eyes swam with tears. Immediately, Carter’s arms ached to hold her. To give into what he’d longed to do to—and with—her since he’d first spotted her.
“What are you doing here?” Winnie asked, her voice a whisper.
“As if I could just stay at dinner with my brother when you’re obviously so upset,” Carter offered.
Winnie brought the door open slightly more, lowering her shoulders. She looked so fragile. Another tears slipped down her cheek, shining in the light from the hallway. “I just really don’t think I can stay, Carter,” she murmured. “I thought I could handle this business world, but it’s pretty obvious that it’s all above my head.”
“That’s nonsense,” Carter said. “You’ve been our most organized, most intelligent secretary we’ve ever had. You’re much smarter than Dan. I’d rather have you as my partner than him.”
“Ha. You’re just saying that,” Winnie stuttered. But she allowed a moment of eye contact. A spark ignited between them. Carter’s cock grew firm against his pants, stiff and tight and throbbing.
Calm the fuck down, he told himself. You can’t do this. She’s your secretary.
“I’m not,” Carter said. ‘There’s nothing back in Texas for you. Everything’s happening here, with the firm. And we—I—need you here to help.”
Winnie drew her chin toward her chest. After another sigh, she whispered, “But Carter, I’ve hardly touched the guitar since I arrived. The whole point of going into the world, of leaving the small town, was to make it as a singer. To write my own songs. And I’ve just fallen in line with whatever you and Dan want me to do. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed every single minute…”
Carter’s heart quickened. He pressed his hand against the door, taking a small step toward her. Now, his nose was only inches from hers. He could taste her breath, so sweet, and strangely salty from her tears. “Why don’t you play for me right now?” he murmured, hoping that this would calm her.
“You should really go back to dinner,” Winnie offered, her voice cracking. “I really don’t have what you’re looking for.”
“Winnie. Yes, you do. You might be the only person in the world who has what I’m looking for,” Carter said. He brought his hand toward her cheek, slipping his thumb over the smooth curve of her face. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes shone, looking up into his. She bit her bottom lip, which shuddered beneath her teeth.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her. Wanted to taste her. Yearned to have her body against his, to feel the cinch of her waist, the tears against her cheek. He leaned toward her—his motions slow, delicate, and he pressed his lips against her soft, warm ones. Immediately, her lips responded. They parted, allowing her tongue to curl from between and meet his. A soft whimper escaped her throat.
She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. Of this, Carter was sure.
He stepped deeper into the hotel room, clicking the door closed. Only one light was on, a lamp in the corner. It cast an orange glow across the pressed bedspread, on which Winnie had placed her rickety suitcase. Winnie’s eyes remained closed, post-kiss. Her chin was lifted toward his. She smelled of lilacs, somehow, as if she’d never left her little Texan farm.
Delicate. Intimate. Quiet. Carter’s motions were soft, slow. The buttons on the top of her sundress were flimsy, easily undone. He drew back the top of her sundress, revealing the lace bra beneath. Her breasts glowed, bulging up, so that a small sliver of her nipple could be seen beneath the fabric. Carter moved his face toward her tits, pressing his lips along this small brown sliver. Again, Winnie moaned, a bit louder this time. Her fingers dragged through his coarse, black hair. She tossed her head back, allowing his hands to explore her back, drawing her dress back from her shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. She fell against him, lifting her thigh along the edge of his waist. His fingers flickered across this intimate, soft thigh, inhaling the smoothness of her skin.
It was too late to speak about what they were doing. It was too late to weigh the pros and cons. Carter’s cock was firm, dripping against his boxers. As he led Winnie toward the bed, he flicked his belt off and dropped his pants to the ground. God, he didn’t want to scare her. As he draped her across the bed, her large eyes turned toward the bulge in his boxers. They were filled with fear, longing. She brought herself up, lifted her hands to his abs. They explored, drawing over the muscles, before flickering over the edge of his boxers. It was impossibly beautiful, watching her see him—really see him—for the first time. She tugged at the boxers, allowing them to fall toward his knees. And there, before her face, his thick cock sprung up. It was coated in thick veins, pulsing, with drops of cum dribbling down toward the bedspread. Winnie inhaled and exhaled, her breasts bulging out of her bra.
In any other setting, Carter would have expected a blowjob. He would have expected her lips all the way up to the hilt of him, while his cock throbbed against the back of her throat.
But Winnie’s fear kept her almost paralyzed. She pressed her lips together, waiting in stunned silence. Carter dropped his boxers the rest of the way, to the ground, and pressed his knees into the comforter. He reached around her back, unhooking her bra. Her tits remained perky, pointed upward. His hands held onto them, with the thumb drawing a line from one end of the tit to the other.
Nobody had ever handled her like this before. Just him.
“
Are you ready for this?” Carter asked her. Her eyelashes fluttered. She looked like she was halfway between reality and a dream. Carter wanted to exist with her there, too.
“I think so,” Winnie whispered. She kissed him, her lips light. “I think I really am.”
“Okay,” Carter said. He reached for her panties—little thin white lace things, barely there—and dropped them toward her knees. She kicked them off with two light, playful motions. With his hands on her thighs, he drew her legs apart, wide, and dotted a kiss above her belly button.
He couldn’t possibly imagine wanting anything else in the world but this.
Winnie stared up at him as he moved over her. He pressed his finger against her, slipping it into her and then drawing it up toward the most sensitive area. She seemed to surge with desire for him, arching her back to draw his finger deeper into her. It was like her body was made for him. It had been waiting, anticipating.
And then, he pressed himself into the wet darkness, moving slowly, feeling her give into him. She allowed a sharp moan to escape her lips, but then pressed them together tight. Her eyes met with his as he thrust deeper into her, an impossible tightness. And then, she arched her back even more, so that her tits drew tight against his chest.
It wasn’t fucking. Not the way Carter had ever had it. As he made love to her, she was soft, curving to his every move, drawing her arms around his back in a tight hug—one that demanded his care, his attention. When she grew tired, panicked, he dotted kisses on her cheeks, waiting for her to nod once more. Then, he knew to keep going, to speed up. Slowly, she grew more insistent, grinding her hips tighter against him and surging up, so that his cock dipped deeper into her. They were one united being, suddenly in tune with one another’s wants and physical needs. Sweat dripped down their chests, between Winnie’s breasts, mixing and dotting the sheets beneath them.
When Carter first made Winnie come, her head dropped back on the pillow, her sweaty hair scattering across the sheets. She moaned, then gasped, digging her fingernails into Carter’s back to hold on. Watching from above, cradling her—it was a remarkable feeling. Like he was protecting her, while also knowing her more than any other man ever had, across the world.
They collapsed, just after Carter came. His cum dribbled across the sheets. Winnie’s slim frame curled against him, her brown nipples dotting his upper stomach. Her fingers traced over his chest, drawing lines over the coarse hair. When she blinked, she allowed another tear to escape.
“Why are you crying?” Carter asked, surprising himself with his own voice. There hadn’t been words for almost two hours, as they’d given themselves over to complete feeling.
Beside him, Winnie quaked with laughter, with tears. She shivered against him, wrapping her arms tighter around his chest. She just shrugged her nose into his chest, unable to answer. Perhaps there wasn’t a correct thing to say; nothing that would make any sense, anyway.
Winnie drifted off to sleep, and Carter dug his head deeper in the pillow. His thoughts were lazy, lined with a sudden feeling of melancholy. Winnie: this girl, this youthful, beautiful thing—she had now given him all she possibly had.
Now, Carter had to face the truth. This feeling, this depth of emotion—could he actually take it with him, become the kind of boyfriend Winnie deserved, even while maintaining his business with Dan? Boyfriend. It was a title he hadn’t had in a long time; hadn’t wanted to bother with it. Before, every woman had been at his fingertips. But now, the only one he wanted—the woman he’d been waiting for—slept alongside him, her lips parted and her eyelashes fluttering with dreams.
Yes. Maybe he could find it within himself to be that for her. To be a stable, strong man, a man worthy of Winnie’s high morals. The kind of man who fit into Winnie’s version of the world.
Certainly, Dan didn’t fit there, too.
The Meeting
Winnie stretched out beneath the sheets, feeling her nipples tip up into starchy fabric. Immediately, her eyes broke open, blinking around at a foreign, unrecognizable world: a brightly lit hotel room, a large television stretched out along the wall, a modern-art painting looking intimidating from the corner. After a few moments, memory swarmed her brain again. New York City. A secretary’s position, for the architecture firm.
And of course. Carter Russell, that dark-eyed, handsome man. Her boss. And, the man who’d been her first. How tenderly he’d made love to her, without words, stroking her hair as he kissed her and entering her slowly, filling her. Making her understand what it meant to feel loved by a man.
Winnie flipped to her side, gazing at the empty dip in the mattress beside her. She lurched up, realizing Carter was gone. Her eyes flashed toward the bathroom door, then the floor, noting that the clothes had been picked up.
Shit. The realization hit her like a brick. The alarm clock’s red numbers reflected back 10 AM. Which meant that she was already a half-hour late to the meeting with the Short brothers, about breaking ground on the new build. She tore the sheets from her naked body, hopping toward her closet and reaching for a maroon suit jacket, a pair of black heels. Did she have time to shower? Could she reapply makeup?
Jesus. She shot a brush through her hair, shaking out her curls. First, she slept with her boss. Now, she’d shown him just exactly why he shouldn’t have slept with her: she was lovesick and distracted, proving herself apt to fuck up the moment he trusted her. And still, the nagging voice of Penelope remained in her brain: telling her that this was what the Russell brothers did with every secretary.
But no. It was different, this time. She and Carter actually had things in common. They bantered. There was life between them—the potential for love, maybe. At least, all of Winnie’s life, she’d equated love with sex…
That had probably been foolish.
Winnie stabbed her feet into her heels and clacked down the hallway, feeling tears bleed from her eyes. She had to hold it together, fight it. Keep her head up high. Remain that professional secretary she’d masqueraded as the entire trip.
Still, she couldn’t train her brain to calm down.
Why hadn’t he woken her for the meeting? Had Carter decided she was trash, now? That her services were no longer necessary, since she’d given over to him? She shivered on the street corner, despite the summer heat. Her hand flashed through the air, calling a cab that she couldn’t quite afford. Maybe she could charge it as an expense? But then again, how could she possibly charge anything as an expense, now that she was more than a half-hour late to the meeting—and her skin still smelled vaguely of Carter’s cologne?
This was why you weren’t supposed to sleep around. She shrugged into the back of the taxi, gripping her knees as the taxi sped them toward the office. The taxi driver couldn’t decide on a radio station, and flicked through countless—ones that bumped and popped and fizzed with bad reception. Winnie’s head ached. Her stomach dropped out. She tried to read her body’s reactions like some kind of story, like trying to peg what her intuition was telling her. But her brain wouldn’t calm long enough to give her any sort of understanding.
Winnie gave the driver several bills, feeling as though she was chopping off her arm. When she ultimately had to leave this job, how was she going to survive? She thanked him and darted out onto the sidewalk, her right heel faltering as she fled. She paused, slipping it back on and gazing up at the thirtieth floor. Somewhere up there, the meeting continued on without her. Had they grabbed a secretary in off the street? Had Carter taken notes in that sprawling handwriting of his? Maybe they would discover they’d never needed her, anyway.
“Move it!” A brash New Yorker blasted past her, making her fall out of her shoes once more. Suddenly, the entire city seemed charged with anger. Back on the farm in Texas, the sunlight had awoken her, dotting over her bedspread. Everything had been delicious, slow. She hadn’t had a reason to frown in 24 years.
After a horrific, slow elevator ride, Winnie found herself back at the offices. Sweat flicked down her cheeks as she
marched toward the boardroom, preparing to grin and make some sort of excuse for her tardiness. But when she reached the doorway, she stared into the hollow space. Dan Russell, dressed in an immaculate suit, stood near the corner, with a whiskey stirring in his right hand. Winnie’s heart sputtered with confusion. But Dan just leered at her, his eyes sloppy and wet.
“There she is,” Dan said. He looked her up and down, inhaling her. “Wow. Always a stunner, no matter what time it is.”
Winnie shifted, yanking her folder against her chest. She shook her head lightly, hunting for words. “The meeting. With the Shorts…”
“Went off without a hitch, darling,” Dan said. “The men loved my brother’s architectural plans. That weird brain of his, filled with art and graphs and images… They were speaking a language I didn’t even understand. That is, until they got to the money part.” Dan cracked every knuckle on the hand that didn’t hold the whiskey, arching his left eyebrow as he spoke.
“Oh, good,” Winnie whispered, stuttering slightly. “I was so worried, since I’d missed it…”
“You know, Winnie,” Dan said. He stepped toward her. His body seemed strangely bigger than Carter’s, although Winnie knew they were exactly the same in size and stature. He seemed to have an extra shadow to him. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. My fiancé, Penelope, she can really be a trip sometimes. Ha. I fucking never know what she’s going to say next, that I can tell you for sure.”
“Oh, um. That’s okay—“ Winnie began, her voice light. Truth be told, she’d nearly forgotten about the incident with Penelope; her mind still raced with thoughts of her night with Carter.
“But dammit, Winnie. I hate to feel that you like and appreciate my brother more than me. People always said I was the likeable one,” Dan said. He took another step forward, dotting his whiskey on the table between them. He seemed more uneven than normal. “Plus, you probably know this, honey, but Carter and me—well. We share everything.”
