by J. A. Huss
My hand acts on its own accord. One second it’s perfectly still by my side, the next it’s wrapped around her waist. My palm looks big next to her small body. My thumb’s on her hip bone and my fingers are splayed across the top of one ass cheek.
“What are you—”
I kiss her. I kiss her like the guy in that gif she sent me a few minutes ago. My other hand palms her throat as I grab her ass and press her hips up against my rock-hard cock.
How the hell did I get hard so fast?
She puts up a small fight. But in my defense, it’s a very small fight. Her lips press together and her hands fly up to my chest and push, but it just drives me even crazier.
I know I should stop, but just as I’m about to back off and apologize, her mouth opens. My tongue slides in as she teases me with hers. I reach for her silk blouse and pull it apart, exposing the pretty pink bra as her flimsy tie holding the kimono shirt together unravels until the entire front is hanging wide open.
“I want this,” I hear myself saying into her mouth. And then I grab the sides of her bra and yank the cups down, exposing her nipples to the chilled air. I push the silky shirt down her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor in a puddle of fabric, and then rid her of the bra by ripping the fabric so hard, the hooks give way and it slides down her arms to join her blouse.
“Yeah,” I moan, squeezing both her breasts as I continue to kiss her. “You like it rough, don’t you, Miss Hatcher?”
“I don’t,” she says. “I don’t usually.”
I take that as a yes and get to work hiking her skirt up her thighs. I lift her leg and say, “Take out my cock. I want your mouth around it, Ellie.” Two fingers find their way inside her wet pussy and I pump her a few times. This makes her throw her head back and moan.
Her small hands unbuckle my belt and tug on the button and zipper until her palm wraps around the fat girth of my dick. She goes very still as she looks down at the prize in her hand.
Why did she stop? Shit, don’t fucking stop. “Squeeze it, Ellie,” I say. Her eyes dart up to meet mine and she nods as her hands obey.
“Ah,” I say. “Fuck, yeah. Harder. Squeeze me harder.”
My attention goes back to her mouth as my fingers play with her pussy. I rub her in small circles, completely avoiding her clit on purpose. I slide one wet finger back to her asshole and press. She mews into my mouth, but doesn’t ask me to stop. So I push it in a little more as two other fingers enter her pussy. “Do you like to be full?” I ask, still kissing her between words. “When I get you in a proper bedroom I’ll shove my cock down your throat and play with your ass and pussy and then you will be completely full. How does that sound, Miss Hatcher?”
She comes. Her ass and pussy squeeze against my fingers. Her muscles clamp down so hard as she bucks her spine and throws her head back, I have to wrap my free hand behind her waist to keep her from falling over.
“I want your lips wrapped around my cock, Ellie. Wrapped around so tight it feels better than your pussy.”
I push on her shoulders until she gets the hint and drops to her knees. She looks up at me, her eyes wide with surprise.
Why is she surprised? This is what she wanted, right? Maybe the message was to Heath, but she can’t be attached to him. She has to know he’s the ultimate player.
She must like being bossed during sex from her reaction. But hell, she did her share of telling Heath what she wanted. Even so, I’m happy to boss her around.
I grab her blonde hair and grip it tight, pushing her head towards the tip of my cock. She licks her lips, like she can’t wait to get me in her mouth. Can’t wait to—
“Hello?” someone says from above. The heavy door on the floor above smacks closed as heels click on the concrete landing.
Ellie stands up, shock on her face. She picks up her blouse and hurriedly wraps it around herself, tying the swath of fabric acting as a belt back together.
“Fuck,” I say, shoving my fully hard dick back into my pants and zipping back up. My belt jingles as the tapping of shoes continues down the stairs.
I look at Ellie, but she’s not paying any attention to me or the approaching shoes. She’s looking at her destroyed bra on the ground.
We both reach for it at the same time and each of us has one broken strap in hand, tugging like two dogs fighting over a bone.
“Let go,” she growls through her teeth.
“Fuck,” I say again. I wanted that bra. But I let go. I’d be on her level of crazy if I had a fight over who gets to take her ruined bra home when someone is about to catch us.
“As I said, Mr. Stonewall, I’m quitting. My resignation will be in your inbox this afternoon announcing my two weeks’ notice.”
“What? You can’t quit now, Miss Hatcher.”
“Hello?” the strange voice says.
I look over and see a tall red-headed woman in a very short skirt, middle-aged, standing on the bottom step of the stairs. She’s flashing me a hand in a wave and her thick eyelashes are batting at me in amusement.
A door slams and when I look over, Ellie is gone.
“Oh, ho, ho,” the redhead says. “Did I interrupt something?” She covers her mouth in some kind of fake oopsie move from a Doris Day flick, and then winks at me.
“Uh, no. Well, if you call that”—I wave my hand at the door—“crazy bitch quitting something, then yes. You did. How can I help you… Sorry, I don’t have your name?”
“Ellie,” she squeals.
I turn and look over my shoulder at the door, wondering why Ellie came back. But there’s no one there.
I turn back to the redhead. “What?”
“Ellie, Mr. Stonewall. I’m Ellie Abraham. Your brother Heath and I, we're very good friends.” She gives me a wink and then adds, “If you know what I mean. But I must say, you are far more handsome than he is.”
Wait. “Your name is Ellie too?” I point at the door to indicate my Ellie who just walked out.
“Oh, I know. She’s nuts, right? Don’t assume all of us Ellies are that way. So… is Heath coming back anytime soon? I really, really miss the fun we used to have.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Abraham, I have work to do.” I take the steps three at a time and burst back into the bustling Atrium lobby. I pull out Heath’s phone as I jog up the steps to the seventh floor and open up the messages.
Ellie: Look, did you see this house? It’s only fifteen minutes from the Tech Center. And no traffic. We could take side roads all the way into work each day. It’s perfect, right?
Ellie: I want to kiss your cock with my pretty lips, then swallow you whole as you spill your come down my throat.
They are two different people. Jesus fucking Christ. Dream-House Ellie and Fuck-Me Ellie are two different people.
What have I done?
Chapter Six - Mac
By the time I get back up to the seventh floor, I’ve forgotten all about the meeting.
The glares coming from my executive team through the glass walls of the executive conference room remind me quick enough. Shit.
I straighten my tie as I walk through the doors and slide them closed behind me. “OK, where were we?” I scan their faces. They’re all looking at me like I’m a pariah. Even Sowards, who didn’t seem to like Ellie much before her meltdown.
“Is Ellie OK?” Jennifer, the Communications Director, asks.
“Um…” Shit. “I’m sure she is.” I give Jennifer a weak smile. “I’m sure whatever is bothering Ellie will pass and she’ll be fine. Look,” I say, hating the fact that I’m the one who has to do this. Hating that Heath is off in China so I am forced to deal with the company. “Obviously all these changes are happening for a reason. We’re restructuring, but not because we’re having capital issues or unexpected profit reports.”
There’s an audible sigh from all eight of my top team.
“But because…” God, I’m so bad at this. “Because we’re selling.”
Dead silence for a count of three. Then
everyone is talking at once.
“Parceling it off by division?” Jennifer asks.
“Where is the organization chart for that?” Sowards asks. His tone towards me is more like the tone he had with Ellie earlier. Impatient.
“Will we still have jobs?” Clarisse asks.
“Who is courting this sale?”
“Does your father know about this?”
That’s my favorite. Yeah, no. I think I’ll sell off a multi-billion-dollar business without approval.
“That’s all I have to say today, so if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. We’ll talk more as information comes in.”
I walk out the doors and turn left towards my wing of the seventh floor. Of course, it won’t hide me for long. All eight of the people in that room have offices up here too. But I’ve done what I came to do.
“Good morning, Mr. Stonewall,” a cheerful woman with long black hair and a cream-colored dress calls out as I approach the outer office. “I’m Stephanie,” she says with a smile. “And if you need anything while you’re here, just let me know.”
“Where is the new office for Ellie Hatcher? I was told my father promoted her and she was to move her office up to the seventh floor immediately.”
“Oh, yes,” Stephanie says. “We only had one spare. Well,” she corrects. “We didn’t have any spare offices, but Heath’s office had an annex, which inventory has resupplied with something that should work temporarily. Until Ellie can order something to ‘make her happy’.” Stephanie’s fingers do little air quotes around that last part. I must look puzzled because she adds, “Your father’s instructions. He wants her pampered for once. Again, his exact words.”
“Hmm. My father has a sweet spot for Ellie Hatcher?” Why? She’s clearly crazy.
“Oh, he loves her to death. Everyone does.” Stephanie laughs. “She is so sweet. She and Heath were close too.”
“Then why is her office still in the aviation maintenance hangar? In fact, why the hell is she working down there to begin with?”
“Um, well,” Stephanie says, perplexed. “Logistics. The guests fly in, she greets them, escorts them to their appropriate studios, and then brings them back to their plane.”
“She’s getting paid an executive salary?” I ask. “To match her executive status?”
“Well, um, I have no idea,” Stephanie says. “I’m not privy to salaries. But your father was always generous to his employees. And Ellie was brought in while she was still in college. I think your fathers were friends, right?”
It’s my turn to be perplexed. “Were they?” Jesus Christ, how did I allow myself to get so removed from the family business?
“They were,” Stephanie says with a smile. “And IT is still down in the maintenance hangar too. That was the first building completed after the Atrium eight years ago. People just settle in, you know? I’m sure if Ellie wanted a new office she’d have gotten one. But I don’t think she’s that kind of employee, Mr. Stonewall.”
“You don’t think she wants this office?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled when she sees it. But she’s not the type of girl to demand things. Not things like an office with a view, anyway.”
I ponder this for a moment. “Does it have a view?”
Stephanie smiles. “A very nice view. And it will be ready this afternoon. Would you like me to invite her up and show her around?”
“No,” I say, absently looking down through the courtyard to the waterfall as it spills out over the sixth floor. “I’ll handle Ellie Hatcher. Thanks, Stephanie. If you need me I’ll be in my office.”
I walk to the door with my name on it, still trying to wrap my head around my new life as the CEO of Stonewall Entertainment. Thank God my office is not made of glass like everything else around here. And my desk is not a picnic table, for fuck’s sake.
I open the door, step in, and close it behind me.
The window is magnificent. Floor to ceiling. But at least it’s got a view of the hills and not of the city. I can’t even take a city view right now. I get enough of that from the penthouse I will call home while I’m here.
The rolling hills are bright green and dotted with cows. That makes me smile. The Tech Center is huge and growing bigger every day. But it was an afterthought. The downtown area was far too crowded to support the sprawling campuses of the many tech companies that now call the city home. Our campus alone is more than a hundred and fifty acres. You can’t get that in a city. You have to create it on the edge of something.
My father’s words spill over into my thoughts. This campus is his dream actualized and now I’m walking away. It’s not the ideal end, is it?
My phone buzzes in my pants, but when I reach in to get it, I remember that I have two phones now. Mine and Heath’s. It’s Heath’s phone that is buzzing. It’s always Heath’s phone.
I don’t even bother unlocking the home screen to read it. I can’t imagine it’s anything important. Just one of the many, many girls on his daily schedule of inappropriate business.
Instead I sit at my large glass desk and bring the oversized computer monitor to life, then do a search for all women at Stonewall named Ellie.
I get no hits. Which is weird, since I know damn well we have at least two of them.
Maybe Ellie is short for something. I try Eloise, because it was my grandmother’s name and pops into my head immediately, and my Ellie’s face pops up.
Eloise Hatcher is a graduate of some private Catholic college in the Midwest I’ve never heard of. She has a perfect smile and a short bob haircut in this photo, a lot shorter than it is now. And she’s wearing a pale pink sweater with a pearl button at her throat.
Jesus, can that girl be any more sweet? What exactly was her relationship with Heath? Were they dating?
It makes me sort of sick to picture her with Heath.
We have exactly one Eloise. So who is this other Ellie? The dirty one? The one who practically offered to suck my dick in the stairs just moments after Eloise Hatcher got up off her knees?
Ellen. There are seventeen Ellens. But Ellen Abraham is the only one with red hair, fuck-me eyes, and tits pitched up so high on her chest, her cleavage is showing in her employee profile picture.
Ellen Abraham is in the employee outreach department and runs the internal communications network, reporting directly to Jennifer Sanders from the meeting I just left.
She is not my type at all.
Neither is Eloise Hatcher. But while Ellen Abraham likes to wear her personality like a coat, Eloise Hatcher likes to hide hers. She has no hobbies listed. Ellen’s employee page reads like a dating site profile.
Eloise has two sentences to describe herself. I enjoy helping people. And dogs.
I actually laugh out loud. Because sheepdogs. She has been sending Heath pictures of sheepdogs. Who owns a sheepdog these days? Most women want little designer puppies. Things that fit in purses. Living accessories.
Eloise wants a farm dog.
I shake my head. She’s captured my attention for sure. And even though I mistook her for Ellen, and even though it was Ellen’s dirty messages to Heath that sparked that interest, the pearl button at her throat is the reason I’m still thinking about her now. That crazy outburst in the conference room was way over the top, but not in the way Ellen’s cleavage showing in her employee photo is. And that trip down the slide, holy shit. I think I will laugh about that for years. Her skirt all bunched up at her hips. Her shoes coming down the slide ahead of her. The hands and knees.
Fuck.
And then I realize how long it’s been since I got a kick out of something.
My phone beeps and I pick it up. “Yes,” I say.
“Mr. Stonewall?” Stephanie asks on the phone. “Mr. Lewis is here to see you.”
“Thanks, send him in.” I hang up the phone and close out of the employee profile program, then stand, button my suit coat, and walk to the door just as Stephanie opens it and Lewis walks through.
&nb
sp; Time to get back to the business of dismantling my father’s company, I guess.
Ridiculous girls with pearl-button sweaters and outrageous outbursts will have to wait.
Chapter Seven - Ellie
“Andrew!” I say, hugging him tightly when he embraces me. “How have you been?” Andrew Manco is a twenty-something former child star who now heads a giant multi-million-dollar virtual reality corporation.
“Ellie!” Andrew says warmly as we break apart. “Fantastic, chick. Just fantastic. I have to tell you, that advice you gave me last year was the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ells. Seriously. You’ve been there for me since I was sixteen and I don’t have enough words to thank you for sticking by me all these years.”
“Oh, Andrew,” I say, blushing slightly. “It’s your potential. I’m just the one who saw it first, that’s all.”
Andrew starts gathering his equipment, but I wave him off. “Leave it, Andy, the guys will bring it over for you and help you set up.”
We lock arms as we make our way off the tarmac and down to the train station. I push the call button as Andrew talks a mile a minute about his new venture. He was messed up as a teenager. And when he first started coming here when he was sixteen for interviews, I didn’t even like him. Such a jerk. And his career as an actor was already over. I’ve seen a dozen child stars come through here over the past seven years who fell into the same trap. They think everything is permanent. The money, the fame, the shows. But it’s not. You have to adjust to the times. And that’s hard to do when you’re still a child and no one is willing to tell you the truth. No one is willing to disrupt the gravy train when they are riding down the tracks with you.
Well, I’ve had my share of fights with Andrew over the years when he came through for interviews and appearances on the children’s side of Stonewall Entertainment. And last year we had it out in a big way. I forced him to see the truth.
