Forbidden Desires

by Roberts, Jaimie

  If only she knew.

  I begin telling her about my recovery, how it gets easier every day now that the bruises are fading. I tell all about Ethan—who has only visited Patricia once in the almost three weeks he’s been here.

  When my story ends, as well as the tea and cookies, I call Brandon to come get me. It's well after three by the time he arrives, and I'm eager for him to get me home so he can do the same.

  When we arrive, I thank Brandon, planting a kiss on his cheek, and wish him a happy new year before walking into the house.

  All is quiet.

  Too quiet.

  "Mom…? Owen…? Ethan…?" I call out, my voice echoing through the house in the silence.

  Placing my bag down on the counter, I walk toward the stairs. As I'm about to climb them, a hand wraps around my waist, followed by another covering the scream tearing up my throat.

  Rescue Me

  Fontella Bass

  Four months ago

  That day in the hospital was a good day, and so has every day since. I seem to be on a constant cloud nine since Owen and I put what happened with his mom aside and concentrated on nothing but us…and sex. Lots and lots of glorious sex.

  "Fucking useless pricks, all of them!"

  Owen has been so stressed out since the manager in Jacksonville was fired. He's hired someone since, but it seems things haven't been running as smoothly as they should. If things continue, Owen may have to fly there soon to headhunt someone. We thought things were bad before, but now that Mr. James is gone, and the new person has been thrown in without supervision, things have been going from bad to worse. Shipments have been mixed up, cars delivered where they shouldn't, and others not showing up at all. It's making Montgomery Cars look unprofessional, which is making Owen a very stressed CEO.

  Tense lines already marring his forehead, Owen places his head between his hands as he sits in front of his desk. I round the side, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  "Don't let everything ride on your shoulders. This is what I'm here for. How can I alleviate your stress?"

  Taking his head away from his hands, Owen looks up at me, his eyes a fiery turquoise today. "You can give me a blowjob."

  I snort, taking my hand away from him and shaking my head. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

  "No, but it's what I meant. Every slither of anger in a man can be solved by a blowjob. Did no one ever teach you that?"

  I roll my eyes. "I guess I never enrolled in the right school of how to appease male jackasses." Owen shows a small hint of a smile. "See, I've just lightened up your day."

  "Yeah, for a second. A blowjob would last much longer."

  A beeping interrupts us, followed by Chelsea's cheerful voice. "Mr. Montgomery, it seems you have a one o'clock appointment with Gareth Falkes, and a one thirty with Lee Sowser. Gareth is currently waiting in reception."

  Owen frowns, looking up at me. "How the fuck did that happen?"

  "I don't know. Lee told me two days ago he couldn't make it. Maybe he forgot or changed plans. He certainly didn't tell me."

  Owen’s pen flying across his desk lands with a thud, making me jump. "For fuck's sake. The universe is having a real laugh at my expense today."

  Wanting so much to help him, I place my hand on his. "Listen, it's okay. It's a simple fix. Go to lunch with Gareth, and I will deal with Lee once he gets here. If he's angry he's dealing with me instead of you, I will just explain he cancelled two days ago and we made other arrangements."

  Owen brushes a hand over his face, sighing. He takes a moment to think about it, then nods. "That will work. Are you sure you're going to be all right dealing with him by yourself?"

  "Of course I will. Don't sweat it."

  Owen's shoulders droop in relief before he picks up his wallet and phone, pocketing them both as he stands. He presses the buttons for reception, and says, "Chelsea, let Gareth know I'll be right out."

  "Will do, sir."

  Adjusting his tie, Owen grabs his gray suit jacket and slides it on. How he can wear that in this heat and still remain as cool as ever is beyond me. I would look like a squeezed lemon.

  "Thank you for this," Owen says, heading for the door.

  "It's what I'm here for," I answer, cheerily.

  Owen reaches the door, but stops to turn before he opens it. His face lights up with a smirk, which sends my knees trembling. "I would still feel a lot better if I had gotten that blowjob." He gives me a cocky wink before opening the door. "See you in about an hour."

  He disappears, leaving me to shake my head in mild amusement. I'm barely at my desk five minutes when Lee Sowser bursts through the door.

  "You fucking bitch!"

  Two inches smaller than seven foot, size fourteen shoes, and hands that could cover my whole face, Mr. Sowser is not a man you want to come across angry. Nevertheless, I keep my cool, especially when I find a very upset Chelsea running in after him.

  "I'm sorry. He just ran past me."

  The scared look in Chelsea's eyes angers me. She should not be made to feel this way while doing her job. It's not her fault this ignoramus barged his way in here.

  "It's fine, Chelsea. Honestly. Just go back to your desk. I will take it from here."

  She looks from me to Mr. Sowser, then back to me, unsure. I nod, trying my best to smile as anxiety gnaws away at my insides. She disappears soon after, shutting the door quietly.

  I return my attention back to a very irate client. "Mr. Sowser, what can I do for you?"

  Immediately, he comes up to my desk, slamming a piece of paper on it, and forcefully points his finger to the middle. "Two hundred cars I ordered!"

  "Yes, that's right." I remember specifically he ordered two hundred Jaguars for his executives. Lee Sowser is CEO of Feel Good Insurance, which has several franchises scattered across the United States. His executives are always out seeking, or speaking, to clients and he wants them all to be seen in the nicest possible car—hence the order.

  "So why the fuck did I only receive twenty!"

  Frowning, I get up and walk toward him. "That can't be right.” I snatch the piece of paper from under his finger, almost ripping it. It's a shipment invoice to the headquarters of Feel Good Insurance, and when I look at the quantity, my heart sinks. He's right. Only twenty cars arrived.

  "This can't be right," I say out loud, rubbing my temple. I'm still looking at the invoice, daring the right amount to pop out, but no matter how much I stare, the number twenty is still there, mocking me.

  "Of course it's not fucking right. You fucked up, and now you've cost me. Something has to be done now!"

  Placing the paper down, I move toward the filing cabinet to try to find the original details I faxed over to Lee Sowser's secretary. "Of course, but I'm sure there's a simple explanation for this, if you just let me look into it further."

  I pull the filing cabinet open, only to have it violently shut back into place. Trembling slightly, I risk glancing up only to wish I hadn't. Lee Sowser is mad. Teeth bared, double chin wobbling, redder than I’ve ever seen anyone mad.

  "I'm not going to let you cover up the mess you created so you can get away with this. You fucked up, and I want compensation." He leans forward, and I lean back. Inches from my face, his breath stinking of garlic, he shouts, "Now!"

  Trying my hardest to ignore him, I concentrate on the filing cabinet again. "Mr. Sowser, how can I sort your problem out if you won't let me figure out what happened in the first place?"

  I'm a millisecond away from pulling the drawer out when his huge hand wraps around my wrist, twisting it slightly. I cry out, releasing the handle, and he pulls me away from the cabinet.

  "Listen, you incompetent bitch, either you sort your mess out right now, or I will call my lawyer and sue your fucking ass," he sneers, gripping my wrist so tightly, I wince in pain.

  "Mr. Sowser, please. You're hurting me."

  "Good, then maybe you'll get something done right around here."

  Angered
by his humiliation, I suck in a breath. I'm about ready to knee this fucker in the balls, when he spins violently away from me, dropping my hand. An almighty crack echoes, before Mr. Sowser crumbles to the floor.

  Frozen in silence, I look to the now unconscious Mr. Sowser, then to Owen, shaking his right hand, his face flushed with anger. He winces, holding the hand he used to punch the asshole in his left.

  "Son of a fucking bitch, that hurt. I would kick the fucker on the ground if he wasn’t already unconscious." He looks down at him, a sneer on his face. "See, not so fucking big now, are you, you fucking prick? See how easy it is to pick on a woman? I'll fucking kill you, you motherfucker!"

  And then, he does it. He kicks him once, twice, three times, and he's about to do it a fourth when I shout out his name. Tears prick my eyes. I place my hands over my mouth, shaking my head in shock.

  Owen's mouth parts, his frown tainted with despair as he steps over the still unconscious Mr. Sowser and approaches me. "Savannah, I'm sorry…" When I step back, looking away, he says, "Fuck! What can I do to make it right? I'm not the bad guy, Savannah, I swear. I would never hurt a hair on your head."

  Tears roll down my face. "I swear, I never made a mistake."

  Owen’s eyes snap to mine. "You really think I give a shit about that right now? I came in the office to witness this asshole," he points at lump on the floor, "thinking it's okay to lay a hand on you and get away with it. I don't care who he is, how much money he can make the company, or who fucked up—that shit doesn't fucking happen with me around. Plain and fucking simple."

  He rounds my desk, snapping the phone up and pressing a button. "Chelsea, get security in here, pronto." He slams the phone back down before coming back around to face me. He places his hands on my shoulders and maneuvers his head so I’m forced to look him in the eye. "Are you okay?" His eyes show nothing but kindness, allowing me to finally calm a little. I nod, smiling. His eyes travel down toward my arm, picking up my right hand and inspecting my wrist. It looks red from where he grabbed me, but other than that, it seems fine. When Owen snarls again, I wrap my hand around his.

  "Owen, I'm fine. Honestly. I appreciate your concern, but I've dealt with worse." And I have. In school, a boy named Darren had it out for me the moment I started. When I grabbed the last muffin from the counter at lunch one day, he decided enough was enough and punched me in the stomach. I was only ten at the time, and felt so sick, I couldn’t eat for two days.

  "You shouldn't have to deal with that shit at all."

  As he finishes saying this, two security guys walk in, taking in the scene before them.

  Owen points to Lee Sowser. "Take him to the locker rooms downstairs and try to revive him. The moment he's conscious, he's out of my fucking building and never to return again. Got it?"

  "Yes, Mr. Montgomery," one of them answers, before they pick Lee Sowser up from the floor. He moans in response, but doesn't fully awaken. Once they've closed the door, Owen puts all his attention back on me.

  "Are you able to tell me what happened?" I take in a breath, then nod my head, telling him what he accused me of. Owen flits his eyes toward the filing cabinet. "Were you able to retrieve the original instructions you faxed over?"

  I shake my head. "I tried to, but Mr. Sowser wouldn't let me."

  Owen grits his teeth. "Son of a fucking bitch.” An angry exhales escapes him. “Are you up to looking for it now?"

  "Of course," I answer. I want to get this mystery solved as much as he does. "How did you get back so fast?" I ask, opening the cabinet.

  "Chelsea called and told me she was worried about you. There was no way I was going to lunch knowing Sowser was throwing his weight around and you were alone to deal with it."

  I glance up from my perusal for a moment and smile at him. "Thank you." His smile in response lights up my heart so much, I forget why I'm hovering over the filing cabinet. Owen is too much of a distraction, and I need to find this document. "Ah-ha!" I cry, whipping it out and placing it on top for both of us to read. On this invoice faxed to Lee Sowser's secretary four weeks ago is an order for two hundred Jaguar F-Type Spiders.

  I frown, turning to Owen. "I don't understand. How can we have ordered this on our end but only twenty arrived?"

  Snatching the piece of paper from the cabinet, Owen walks over to my phone. "I don't know, but I'm going to fucking find out."

  His grabs the phone and starts dialing. When the call gets through, he asks to speak with the manager.

  "Kris, it's Owen Montgomery." Owen goes quiet for a moment. "I'm fine, but listen. We have an emergency. One of our clients ordered two hundred Jaguar F-Type Spiders and we specifically instructed that on the order sheet." He pauses a moment, then says, "It's for Feel Good Insurance. Yes, that's right."

  Owen remains silent, listening intently as his frown deepens. "What do you mean Mr. Sowser’s secretary rang to amend the order?" Owen looks toward me, his face a mask of confusion. "Why didn't you tell me?" Closing his eyes, Owen shakes his head. "I wish you had called." He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "No, that's okay. It's fine. I'll sort this shit out and get back to you. Thanks, Kris."

  Owen places the phone down and immediately sinks into my seat. "Fuck."

  "What happened?" I approach his chair, sitting beside him at the edge of my desk.

  "For some fucking reason, the prick's secretary called the dealership and told them it should be twenty, not two hundred."

  "Why in the hell would she do that?"

  Owen opens his hands. "Fuck if I know. When I asked why he didn't call me, he said he thought we had made a mistake and didn't want to embarrass us or get anyone in trouble. Since we're good clients of his, he let it slide." He sighs, shaking his head. "What a complete and utter fuck up."

  "At least I know it wasn't my fault."

  Owen takes my hand. "Whether it was your fault or not, that asshole was way out of fucking line, and now he's gotten himself on my shit list."

  I frown. "He might sue you for assault."

  "I'll sue his ass for defamation—not to mention the assault on you. Believe me, he's going to be in far more trouble than I will. It won't be worth his time."

  "But now you've lost a big client."

  Owen's eyes widen in disbelief. "You really think I give a shit after what he did to you?"

  "He only grabbed my wrist."

  "I don't fucking care," he growls. "Did he frighten you?" Having to admit it, I nod. "Did he make you feel vulnerable?" I nod again. "Did he make you feel small?" Again, I nod. "No amount of money is worth that shit, Savannah."

  Biting my lip, I can't help but smile. It warms my heart that he cares so much. When he looks up, spotting my smile, he asks, "What are you smiling at?"

  I laugh. "I don't know. I guess…it's just nice that you care about me."

  Owen smirks, leaning forward and grabbing my hand to pull me toward him. "Does it make your belly all warm inside?"

  I giggle. "Uh-huh."

  "Does it make you feel happy?"

  "Yep."

  "Does it make you appreciate how awesome of a boss you have?" Sincerely, I nod. “Good… Now, give me a blowjob."

  No Ordinary Love

  Sade

  Present

  I thought I had felt fear when Terry beat me that night at the party all those months ago. I thought I had felt fear when Lee Sowser grabbed my wrist, twisting it until I felt like it would snap like a twig. But nothing…nothing compares to how I terrified I am now. Vulnerable and alone, in a big old house with no one but me and my would be attacker.

  The instant a hand covers my mouth, I try to scream, try to wriggle my way out of his hold.

  "Shhh, it's only me."

  My shoulders slump, the relief immeasurable. My heart rate still soars from adrenaline, but at least it doesn't feel like I'm going to pee myself. I close my eyes and try to ask him what he's playing at when he starts to pull me in the direction of his office. I have no idea why he feels the need to trap m
e, practically dragging me there.

  I mean…he could have just asked me nicely.

  Then I remember. Owen doesn't do nice. He does domineering, assertive. He does tyranny and carnage.

  Once he has me in the office and the door is closed he finally takes his hand away from my mouth. "Owen, what in the hell are you doing?"

  With his hand still clutched around my stomach, he tugs me closer, until all the air in my lungs whooshes out. The hardness of his length digs in my ass, and his hot breath dancing across my neck. He's turned on, and the thought of it turns me on too. I'm supposed to be angry at him, but after that conversation with Patricia, my heart has softened to him a little. If I told him he would be mad, so I'm keeping that little nugget of information to myself.

  "For three whole fucking weeks you’ve avoided me. Three fucking weeks of no pussy. Do you know how deranged I am right now?"

  "Practically certifiable," I tease, trying to pull away. He tugs me back, holding me in place. I can't escape, even if I try.

  Not that I want to.

  The fact that it seems to be that way for him only sets a fire dancing between my legs. How long it's been since I savored his touch, kissed his lips, and felt his cock inside me.

  “You're not getting away from me, Savannah. At least not until I've had my fill of you. I told you, remember…" He leans forward, his hot breath tickling my ear, "consequences."

  I turn my head to ask him what that means when he pushes me toward his desk, shoves all his files until they fall to the floor, and throws me down face first until my breasts hit the hard wood beneath me.

  "Owen," I say, breathless, ready for what he has to offer.

  "Shhh, you don't get to talk. Spread your hands until they grip the other side of the desk. I don't want you to move a fucking muscle."

  He pulls at his belt, followed by his zipper, then he's unbuttoning my jeans, tugging them down along with my panties. He swipes his finger along my wetness before swirling it around my hardened nub.