by Jessica Ashe
I shook my head and whispered “never.”
“I’m going to fill your mouth with my cum. You’re going to gulp it down like the greedy little girl I know you are.”
I whimpered, and closed my eyes to surrender my body to Barton.
Then I heard a laugh outside the door. Tasha. The door opened and she stumbled through with another random dude I didn’t know.
I didn’t know whether to appreciate her timing or curse it.
Barton and I quickly parted on the sofa, while Tasha was busy kicking off her shoes, and dragging her ‘date’ to the bedroom.
“Hi Tasha,” I called out. I wanted her to remember I was in the apartment. Otherwise things had a tendency to get… loud.
“Oh, hey,” she said, stopping and pushing her man into the bedroom. “I’ll be right there,” she said to him. She was clearly a little tipsy, even though it was still early in the evening by her standards. Her smile disappeared when she laid eyes on Barton.
“Hi Tasha,” Barton said politely.
“Hey. Um, that’s just a friend. From work. We’re just going to work on a story.”
Barton nodded, and Tasha walked off sheepishly. There was no way that guy was a work colleague. Tasha refused point-blank to sleep with anyone from work, and she wasn’t attracted to other journalists anyway. And she’d never bothered to lie to me about what she got up to in her bedroom. I wished she would, mind you. There are some things even close sisters shouldn’t share.
“That was weird,” I remarked. “She almost seems embarrassed.”
“I probably wasn’t supposed to see her tonight,” Barton replied.
“Why not?”
“She’s going on a date with my friend Clyde tomorrow.”
“Tasha’s going on a date? My sister Tasha?”
“Yep. Clyde’s quite excited about it.”
“I don’t—”
Tasha’s bedroom door opened and quickly slammed shut again. Tasha’s man came out looking angry. “Fucking cocktease,” he muttered, grabbing his shoes and quickly leaving the apartment.
Barton and I exchanged confused looks
“What was that about?” Barton asked.
“I have no idea.”
“If he hurt her, I can catch up with him and kick his ass if you like?”
“I don’t think that would help your image,” I replied. “I’ll go talk to her. Perhaps we should call it a night.”
“I had a bad feeling you were going to say that.” Barton reluctantly stood up and headed to the door. “How do you feel about double dates?”
“Depends who with,” I replied.
“Me.”
“I meant, who would be the other couple?”
“Oh. Your sister and Clyde. I have a feeling they might need us around.”
“Okay.”
Had I just agreed to go on a date with Barton? Did double dates count as dates? There was one way to answer that question—would I shave my legs before going out? Yes, definitely. Then it was a date. Holy shit.
Barton leaned in and kissed me gently on the cheek, before sneaking a hand round behind me and squeezing my ass. I didn’t even flinch.
The second Barton left, I felt a desperate urge to get under the covers with some electronics, but the silence from Tasha’s room had me worried.
“Everything okay?” I asked, knocking on the door.
“I’m fine,” Tasha replied over-enthusiastically.
She wasn’t fine. I opened the door and walked into her room to find her sitting by her dresser removing her makeup.
“What happened back there?” I asked. “If he hurt you, Barton is more than happy to go kick his ass.”
“No, no, it wasn’t that. I just changed my mind.”
“About sex?”
“Yeah. I didn’t care for it tonight.”
I stared open-mouthed at the sister I thought I knew better than I knew myself. Apparently not.
“He seemed like your type,” I said. “Muscles, tats, general mean edge to him.”
“Tonight just wasn’t the night, okay.”
“Fine, fine. Barton told me about your date with Clyde tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I should probably cancel that. I don’t know why I agreed in the first place.”
“That’s a shame, because Barton and I were hoping to tag along with you and make it into a double date.”
Tasha’s eyes widened, and she jumped up off her seat, one half of her face still covered in makeup and the other clean.
“You are going on a date with Barton Fenner? You’d better not be shitting me.”
“It’s not a date; it’s a double date.”
“What’s the fucking difference?”
“I don’t know, but there most definitely is one.”
“Oh my God, my little sister’s going to fuck a football star. I’m so happy for you.”
Tasha threw her arms around me like I’d just announced I was married. “I’m not going to fuck him,” I insisted. At this rate, even if we both wanted to fuck each other, it wouldn’t happen because we’d get interrupted by Tasha, or the repairman, or an earthquake. Something would spoil the moment.
“Let’s have a spa day tomorrow to prepare,” Tasha insisted. “Massages, facials, and a full waxing.”
“I don’t’ want to wax my legs,” I replied. “I’ll just shave.”
“I’m not talking about your legs, sweetie. We need to get you ready for the night of your life.”
Chapter Twelve
Barton
Clyde was usually the awkward, nervous one around women, but when it came to preparing for formal dates, he was in his element.
I, on the other hand, was like a fish out of water.
“You can wear jeans,” he instructed, “but nothing with rips in it. And wear a shirt.”
Clyde refused to change the restaurant to a more expensive place that would keep out the gawkers, but he did at least ask for a table in the corner where we might have a semblance of privacy.
“What do you think?” I asked, showing him my outfit. “This is the best I had available.” I neglected to mention that I’d actually gone shopping especially for an outfit after deciding that none of my current ones were worthy of the occasion.
“You look good,” Clyde said. “But when I said you had to wear a shirt, I meant you’d also have to do the buttons up. I’d rather not look at your chest over dinner.”
“What’s the point of having a body like this if you can’t show it off? Anyway, where are the girls? I thought I was late, but it appears they’re even later.”
“You’re early,” Clyde replied. “I told you we were meeting a half hour early because I knew you’d be late.”
“Did I mention that Tasha hates smartasses?”
Clyde smiled awkwardly, and I could tell he was nervous about this one. I couldn’t blame him. He had his work cut out with Tasha. They hadn’t even been on a date yet, so it’s not like they were in any way exclusive. Still, I knew Clyde, and he would have been gutted to know that she brought someone home last night. That’s why I didn’t mention it. And nothing had happened anyway. I just hoped he didn’t end up regretting all this.
We waited at the table until the girls showed up, right on time. One thing I’d already learned about dating—no matter how much effort the guy puts in, he is always going to get shown up by the girl.
“You look stunning,” I said to Kristi, as she sat down. Should I have pulled out her chair? I’d seen that on television, but it always looked a bit stupid. Clyde hadn’t bothered, so I was probably safe.
She wore tight jeans, and a glitzy halterneck top, with a large necklace hanging down between her breasts. I usually focused on the chest, but right now I couldn’t look away from her face. It was glowing, and she wore a bright red lipstick that illuminated her skin even more. I wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, but my oafish hands felt too insensitive for such a delicacy.
“Thanks,” she replied. “You look g
ood too.”
“I looked better before Clyde made me do the shirt buttons up.”
Kristi and I stared at each other for a few moments, until we both realized that our friends were silent. I turned to see Clyde looking surprisingly uncomfortable, and Tasha looking more shy and embarrassed than even Kristi.
This was a double date, and we were here for a reason. Kristi and I tore our eyes from each other and spoke to Clyde and Tasha. They both quickly warmed up, and I saw the chemistry between them that must have led to this date in the first place.
“So Tasha,” I said, “Kristi told you me you wrote that scandalous piece about the Senator who cheated on his wife. Tell us all the details you had to leave out because you didn’t have proof.”
“With pleasure,” Tasha said with a smile. Clyde never stopped staring at her as she spoke. He was lovestruck. Poor bastard.
“We’re going for a drink,” Clyde said after dinner. “Want to come with us?”
It was impossible to tell from Clyde’s expression whether he actually wanted us there as support or not, but that didn’t matter. I had plans of my own, so he would have to fend for himself now. Besides, after the initial awkwardness, the two of them had definitely hit it off.
“No, I’m going to walk Kristi back to her place,” I replied.
“You are?” Kristi asked.
“Yes,” Tasha chipped in. “He is. Don’t let our efforts today go to waste.” I saw her wink at Kristi, and knew I’d missed a conversation between the two of them that I probably didn’t want to know about.
“They make a cute couple,” I said to Kristi on the walk home.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up just yet. Tasha isn’t really the settling down type.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “I always pictured journalists as being sensible and married.”
“Tasha had her heart broken pretty badly a few years back. Since then, she’s embraced the free spirit side of her.”
“Ah. Makes sense.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t tell Clyde that Tasha brought a guy home the other night?”
I shook my head. “No, didn’t seem much point. They’re not exclusive, so she’s not doing anything wrong.”
“No,” Kristi said softly. “I guess not.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with other people,” I quickly added.
“It’s none of my business.”
“Sure, but in case you’re interested, I haven’t slept with anyone since I met you.”
“Have I put you off women entirely?” Kristi joked.
“They don’t hold as much appeal as they used to,” I admitted.
That was scarily accurate. Even now, as we walked home at night, passing many scantily clad women, my eyes never wandered or thought about taking any of them to one side for a quick fuck.
It reminded me of being a quarterback in high school when I learned to block out all the opposing players rushing at me and just focus on making the pass.
No other women existed right now—only Kristi. I just had to complete the pass.
Kristi didn’t ask me up to her apartment, but she didn’t stop me from getting in the elevator with her either. Was this the night? There were only a few days left for her to beg me for sex. I regretted making that bet. She was stubborn, and I wouldn’t put it past her to hold back on sex just to prove me wrong.
Kristi stopped by her apartment door, but didn’t open it. It wasn’t going to happen. She turned round and I could tell she was about to say goodnight. My balls immediately felt heavy with frustration.
I had to at least try.
I pushed her up against the door and smashed my lips up against hers. I expected her to turn her head, or try to push me away. Neither of those things happened.
Kristi’s lips parted as I forced my tongue into her mouth. Her warmth had my cock twitching in my pants in anticipation, and thinking back to the fantasy I’d had of Kristi sucking my dick like her life depended on it.
My hands grabbed her perfect, firm ass, and lifted her into the air. Kristi’s legs quickly wrapped around me as we pressed our fully-clothed bodies against each other. I let her go, because it was either that or fuck her in the hallway.
Kristi fumbled with her key, but we eventually made it back inside. Every time we’d gotten close, something had happened to interrupt us, but not this time. This time we would—
Kristi’s phone vibrated in her bag.
“Leave it,” I growled.
“Calm down,” she said with a seductive grin. “It could be Tasha letting me know she’s not coming home tonight.”
“That would be helpful,” I admitted.
The phone vibrated twice more before Kristi had even dug her phone out of her bag. Her face turned sour as she read the messages.
“Does this mean Tasha is coming home after all?” I asked. “I hope she’s not bringing Clyde back here. I don’t want to show him up.”
“It’s not Tasha said. It’s my boss. She wants a meeting with me tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, well I promise to let you get some sleep.”
I went to kiss Kristi again, but this time she turned her head to the side, and placed a hand on my chest.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she said.
“You worried about the meeting?”
Kristi nodded. “That’s not all. We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my client.”
“Kristi, you’re an intern. What’s the worse that can happen?”
“I can lose my job and get blacklisted,” she said. “I would like to have a career one day.”
“Then we won’t tell anyone. Or I’ll hire a new firm. I want you, Kristi. I need you. My balls need you. Seriously, I’m about to explode here.”
“That’s sweet,” she replied, with a smile. “But you need to leave.”
I could have convinced her. Her eyes didn’t hold any conviction. If I kissed her again, she would give in and we would spent the night fucking. She’d come again, and again, and again.
But then she’d hate me.
“Okay,” I replied. “You’ve hung on for another day.”
“I’m not going to beg you, Barton.”
“Yes, you are, Kristi. You’re going to beg, and I’m going to give you what you want. It’s just a matter of time.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kristi
Just seen pictures of you having dinner with Barton. We need to meet first thing in the morning.
I barely slept after reading that message from Leona.
She’d seen us on a date. I’d been so focused on Barton, and a bit on Tasha and Clyde, that I hadn’t even noticed anyone taking a photo. I’d forgotten that I was eating dinner with one of the most famous people in the city.
Now my boss knew, and she was going to go absolutely bananas.
Reading that email had been the coldest of cold showers imaginable. I’d been so ready to take Barton into my bedroom that I’d allowed myself to ignore our working relationship. I couldn’t pretend I’d forgotten; I was just conveniently pretending the problem didn’t exist.
Leona’s email had been a stark reminder. I couldn’t bring myself to kiss Barton again, no matter how much I wanted to. And boy, did I want to. He could have had me up against the door, and I wouldn’t have stopped him.
I went into the office at eight in the morning. Leona wouldn’t be there yet, but I wanted to be waiting for her when she arrived. Besides, I couldn’t sleep at home, and I needed to think of an excuse.
I could say it was a work dinner, I suppose. If I did that, I’d have to charge my time, so Barton would be paying to take me to dinner. What did that make me? Nope, that wouldn’t be a good excuse.
Perhaps I could use Tasha as an excuse? She’d used me as an excuse to get out of dates before, so I wouldn’t need to feel guilty about it. That might work, but it depended on just how mad Leona was. Regular mad? Or mad mad?
“Kristi, my office, now.”
The scree
ch came from the other end of the hall, but she often communicated that way. I couldn’t read too much into it just yet.
“Morning, Leona,” I said politely. If I could convince myself I hadn’t done anything wrong, then perhaps I could convince Leona too.
“Mind telling me why you were on a date with our client last night?” Leona asked. She’d never been one for pleasant formalities.
“It wasn’t a date,” I insisted. “Turns out my sister is friends with one of Barton’s friends, so we hung out just the four of us.”
Leona swung her monitor round to face me. “These pictures make the two of you look fairly cozy.”
The amateur photographer had captured me looking longingly at Barton, and in another I was laughing at a comment of his about lawyers. It did look like a date, and helpfully Tasha and Clyde had been completely cut out.
“My sister is sitting right next to me. And I’m not even laughing at Barton,” I lied. “I’m laughing at a story Clyde told about my sister from college.”
Hopefully Leona didn’t know who Clyde was. If she did, she’d quickly figure out that he was younger than her and they couldn’t have gone to college together.
“It doesn’t even matter what the truth is,” Leona said. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in this position.”
“The sponsors like to see him out and about wearing their clothes.”
“Except he wasn’t wearing any clothes from sponsors.”
“Oh. Well, it’s important I maintain a close relationship with Barton. That way he’ll trust me.” And he’ll end up even more hurt when he finds out I’ve been lying to him this entire time.
“He’s already got good reason to trust you—the work you’ve been doing for him has paid off. He looks good—a little too good. You’ve got him going out in the evening looking respectable, and saying boring things on Twitter. No one wants this.”
“Except his team,” I snapped.
“Don’t get smart with me, Kristi. Do you want to keep working with Barton?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Then do as you’re told.”
