I had to turn away from her in that moment. If I continued to look at her with that determined expression on her face, I was going to pull into the nearest alley and let loose. She was the most unusual, interesting, mysterious woman I’d ever known. I was excited to see where this evening would lead us.
What I neglected to share with Sascha that she was now learning very rapidly, was that this particular Cirque du Soleil show specialized in exploring sexuality. The performers did their sets to different genres of music to display how sex in music transcends type of music and that it’s at the core of everyone’s thought process. Different scenes depicted hard sex, soft sex, bondage and BDSM and intimate expression without sex. I’d been to the show before, so I was used to the highly sexual nature of the show, but Sascha kept shifting and pressing her legs together; she was aroused.
Instead of immediately getting back in the car after the show, I took her by the hand and we walked to a small cafe nearby. I hadn’t been there before myself, but it seemed like it had perfect items for a stimulating conversation. We grabbed a table when we entered and ordered sandwiches and coffee; simple and sophisticated.
“So, what are your thoughts?” I asked, taking a drink of my coffee.
“Someone had some repressed sexual energy,” she replied and I nearly spit out my drink.
“Repressed? That’s what you got from that?” I asked. “It was obviously about someone’s extravagant and illustrious sexual journey.”
She shook her head. “All those moments where things were just nearing the end and then the scene would suddenly change. Obviously this person had often dreamed of having many sexual experiences they never got to have. They could only dream of what they were like and never actually knew, so there were no endings to any of those experiences.”
I sat staring at her in silence for a moment. I was far more in her crosshairs than I originally thought. I could lose myself in her. “Hm.”
She laughed. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t be upset that you’re wrong,” she spat.
I gasped. “I’m no such thing.”
“Please. I knew it the moment I met you, you don’t like to be wrong,” she explained.
I took a breath. I had to concede. “You’re, perhaps, not far off.” She smiled and I returned the gesture. “I’m sorry for all of that by the way. I know I come off as a douchebag. I promise I’m a good guy, I just appreciate accuracy, efficiency and, yes, being right. But I give respect as it’s earned. I think that’s fair.”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
Suddenly, a blush rose to her face. I tilted my head to the side. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, just thinking more about the performance,” she explained.
Now she was in my crosshairs. “And?”
“Well, to be honest. It made me kind of horny,” she replied with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Is that right?” I responded. “Well, I wonder what we can do about that?”
* * *
I didn’t remember paying the bill. I didn’t remember leaving the cafe. I didn’t remember driving. The only thing I knew was that I had Sascha pressed up against the huge bay window in my loft overlooking Las Vegas and was smoothing my hands over her bare skin. Her dress was a thing of the past, and I was laying soft kisses across her back. Her breath hitched as I pinched a bit of her skin between my teeth, but followed it with a lick. I, myself, was shirtless and admiring her beauty against the Vegas skyline.
“You’re so beautiful,” I commented.
“I feel so exposed,” she replied.
I kissed her shoulder blade. “Do you dislike it?” I asked.
I ran a hand over her ass, reveling in the smoothness of her skin in my hand. I caressed ever lower until I could cup under and start to poke my finger at her opening. She let out a yip and I used my other hand to work the only remaining article of my clothing, my pants, off of my body. I wrapped a hand under Sascha’s chin and tipped her head back to rest against my shoulder. I kissed her and hugged her close, setting my unsheathed dick against her pussy.
“I want you,” she murmured at me, and it was delightful that she was a woman who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted.
“And I want you, sexy,” Ryland replied, “but let us not rush this.”
I pulled one of her arms behind her and moved it to grip my dick. She did exactly as she was told and started to stroke it, the position allowing my head to poke at her entrance while she stroked. I reached my hand around and placed a couple of fingers on top of her clit and started to rub. I moved in slow, intense circles, enough to tease her, but not enough to make her orgasm just yet.
“That feels so good,” she sang in my ear. “Don’t stop.”
I kissed her cheek and then nibbled the cartilage of her ear. “As you wish.”
I was amused, not annoyed when Sascha’s hold on my cock started to loosen. Her hips started to rock back and forth, drenching my shaft and her own hand in her juices and she started to whine as she came. I let my eyes dance over her bare reflection in the window, watching her chest rise and fall. I’d done a masterful job up to that point keeping myself at bay, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have her.
With only the glow of Las Vegas illuminating our lovemaking, I pushed myself inside of her, letting out a small huff as her heat surrounded me. She worked herself backwards, pushing to get as close to me as she could. I started out at a calm pace, sliding myself back, almost to the point of dropping out, and then doing a long stroke back in. Sascha moaned, and myself along with her. She turned her head and kissed me again, slipping her tongue between my lips. I kept my pace slow and intense, and Sascha reached her arms behind herself to grab my head. She gripped my hair between her hands, as her moans got louder.
I felt as she started to shudder around me, an orgasm gripping her body. I pulled out of her, and carefully turned her to face me. I backed her up against the window again and kicked my pants off and away entirely. I crouched down until I could face her pussy and stuck my tongue out and began to lick. Sascha’s hands flew to the back of my head and massaged my hair as I licked her, tasting the juices from her orgasm still lingering. She whined as I worked, writhing in response to my movements. I continued to lick and suck, alternating between poking my tongue in and out of her entrance and licking her clit. I waited until I could feel her gyrations worsening, right as it seemed like she may come again, I stopped.
“No, Ryland, please!” Sascha moaned.
I stood up, placed my hands on either side of her neck and dragged her into a passionate kiss. I was thrilled when I felt her hands grab my cock and guide me back to push inside her. I grabbed under one of her knees and pushed it up, keeping my lips fastened to hers. I thrust into her, after my own goal now. I continued to opt for full, but slower strokes to completely feel everything as our bodies moved together.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, gripping onto me as I moved in and out of her, and soon, I started to grunt. I could feel an orgasm galloping towards me. She let out a scream of pleasure as I pulled out of her just as my seed came spurting forth. We continued to hold onto each other, breathing in the afterglow.
Sascha started to giggle. “That was amazing.”
I kissed her, a smile of my own. “Glad I could be of service.”
Sascha
Once I was back home after spending the night with Ryland, I couldn’t seem to get my mind straight. In less than a week, I’d fucked both of my bosses. What the hell was I thinking? They were my bosses. Was I really doing this? My mind started to compare Ian and Ryland’s bedroom styles. They were both amazing at it, but Ian was more rough and tough, while Ryland was more soft, but intense. Ian was all right in the moment, while I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ryland had been working on seducing me from the second he picked me up. It made me wonder how things were going to go with Carson.
* * *
Monday came along wit
h its own set of dread. I felt conflicted about this bizarre arrangement when it first began, but now after being out with Ian and Ryland, I feel even more conflicted. Was it fair to confuse my mind with a third person, let alone someone like Carson with very little patience?
We went directly from work, as opposed to him picking me up at home. I was originally concerned about what I would wear that would satisfy both work professionalism and date attire, but Carson assured me that, as long as I was comfortable, I’d be fine. Still, a date was a date, and I decided to go with a pair of dressier pants, some stiletto heels, and a blouse. When Carson saw me, he asked with concern if it was what I was wearing that evening. When I confirmed that I was, he gave me a curt snicker and continued on his way. It became obvious why he was so amused when we got to our destination.
We went to a less-than-reputable looking part of town and Carson held open the most run down doors for me. Nervous, I entered, but was surprised by what I found on the inside. It was a warehouse that had modern lights hanging from the ceiling. The huge, open space had a collection of mini-bars dotted around in a few rows and columns. Some of them had pairs of people behind them, others didn’t. There was some contemporary pop music thumping through the space and everyone was chattering and laughing.
“What is this?” I asked Carson.
He, who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a jacket over it, placed his hand on the small of my back and led me forward. “It’s a mixology class.”
I whipped my head towards him. “What?”
“I thought to myself, ‘There has to be something this woman isn’t amazing at.’” He cast me a mischievous glance. “I’m hoping this is it.”
I attempted to scowl at him, but a smile poked through. “Sorry if I disappoint you.”
With a smile that seemed oddly warm for him, he led me forward towards one of the stations. I could see as we got closer, that there were a couple of nameplates on it that had Carson and I’s names scrawled on. As we got settled behind the station, a tall woman with short, pixie-cut, red hair and a flirty cocktail dress on, walked over.
“Hello. I’m Mamie,” she announced in a high voice.
Carson grumbled. His warm expression disappeared and he didn’t even acknowledge her presence other than to offer a quick, “Hi.”
I was slightly taken aback by how dismissive he was; it was rude. “Hi,” I greeted, holding out my hand. “I’m Sascha.”
Mamie took my hand and shook. “Hi, Sascha. That must mean that this is Carson?”
“He is,” I said. I looked over at him, but he’d pulled out his phone and had his head down, completely ignoring the interaction. “Sorry, I’m not sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden.”
Mamie’s joyful attitude didn’t waver. “No problem. We’ll get some liquor in him and I’m sure he’ll loosen up.” She winked at me and twirled away.
“That was rude,” I hissed. “What’s your deal all of a sudden?”
“It’s nothing,” he said back. “I just didn’t want to talk to her.” It didn’t seem truthful. There was something specific that he wasn’t saying, but I decided not to press it for the time being.
More people filed in over the course of the next ten minutes, and then eventually the music dimmed and Mamie walked to the head of the row of minibars, taking place beside a pseudo-bar in an L-shape, that was open so everyone could see what was behind it. She began to lead the class in teaching everyone how to make a variety of cocktails, shakers and mixed drinks. Carson and I followed along, using our matching materials, practicing how to make each drink she went over ourselves. Once everyone had gotten enough practice, she set us off to practice making and consuming drinks on our own. It was during this time that a batch of well-dressed waiters walked around and delivered finger foods to be munched while working. They were presented based on which drinks they paired best with. We nibbled the food and worked together to practice the drinks. It was lovely.
“Sorry, about before,” Carson said suddenly.
I was confused. We were having a really great time. “For what?”
“The way I treated the teacher at first. She, uh, reminds me a lot of my ex,” he explained. “I won’t say anything else about it. One’s ex is not good first date conversation.”
“It’s clearly still hanging on to you though. Talk about it. Trust me, it won’t change my opinion of you,” I assured. “Get it out.”
He looked up at me and my heart stopped for a moment. There was true pain behind his eyes, the kind that shattered his confident exterior and made him look like a child who’d just received his ‘do you like me’ note back with the ‘no’ box checked.
“Alia Creer,” he said, with a waver to his voice. “We were together for,” he hesitated, “some time. I was madly in love, and to be fair, so was she, with sleeping with every man in town besides myself.”
I cringed, wondering how someone could have someone as good looking as Carson and stray. “I’m sorry.”
“I ended things with her. She kept my head tied up in knots. I didn’t have control over myself. It was terrible.” He poured a shot from one of the bottles of tequila and knocked it back. “The last guy I found out she was with, after she swore they were just friends, I finally lost it.”
“Good,” I told him. “You deserve better than that.”
“I know how I come off, but it was weird. I just liked the domesticity. Having someone to come home to. It’s life-changing,” he said.
I was shocked. It was such a soft, emotional side to him that I wasn’t expecting. He was afraid that it would ruin the date, but it had done quite the opposite. I found myself more attracted to him. More than things with Ian and Ryland, though, he was even more vulnerable. He was so attractive, and I did want him, and part of me really wanted to take him for a test drive the way I had the other two, but that felt unfair and I wasn’t sure how’d he react. I decided in that moment that I wasn’t going to sleep with him no matter how much I wanted to, and turned the conversation towards lighter topics, and back to practicing our new skill.
I wasn’t good at making drinks, much to Carson’s delight. I have always had poor coordination, so anything that required shaking in a tumbler, I was spilling all over the place. Several of the drinks required thinning using a strainer that was meant to be held in the same hand as the tumbler, but I could barely hold it with two hands. Lastly, there was the salting or sugaring of glass rims, which for some reason just didn’t work for me. It wouldn’t stick to the glass, looked spotty when I did it, and I kept mixing up which ones needed which rims.
“Alright!” Mamie clapped her hands. “Now that you’ve all got the hang of it and had a bite to eat, why don’t we have a bit of friendly competition?”
Carson leaned over towards me. His dusky cologne filled my nostrils and threatened to send me away from my resolve not to pounce. “I wouldn’t classify what you do as ‘having the hang of it.’”
I elbowed him gently, a snicker slipping out. “Shut up.”
“I’m going to draw the name of one of the drinks we’ve learned tonight from my martini glass at random.” She held up a martini glass with folded slips of paper in it. “Once I say the name, you and your partner work together to get the drink crafted as quickly, but as accurately as possible. Once you’re done, applaud your work, and I’ll come over for a taste test. The first pair to three points, designated by finishing first and tasting of passable quality, will win a gift certificate for our partner restaurant in downtown Las Vegas.”
To say we lost this competition would be a severe understatement, we didn’t even get through the first drink. Carson did most of the work, but left it up to me to sugar the rim of the glass. As I was dipping the glass into the sugar, hoping for my first success of the evening, I dropped the glass. Not enough to break it, but enough to catch the edge of the tray the sugar was on and flip it, sending it all over me.
Carson let out a full, boisterous laugh. He set the tumbler down on the co
unter, flipped the tray back over, pulled the glass from my hand, and doubled over on our workstation, laughing so hard it dragged the attention of others.
I laughed along. “Shut up, you ass.”
Carson picked up a towel and handed it over to me, tears in his eyes. “Here.”
I tried to wipe myself off, but the sugar was everywhere, already settling into the fabric of my blouse. “I’m having a blast, really, but I officially need to get this off.”
Carson looked at me dead-pan. “I’m in.”
I shoved him. “Stop. Come on.”
We waved goodbye to the people we’d gotten to know over the course of the class, thanked Mamie, including Carson apologizing for the way he behaved in the beginning, and left. He drove me home and when he climbed out of the driver’s side of the car, I didn’t protest. He opened my car door, a new chuckle rising when he saw me covered in sugar again. I just laughed along as I climbed out. I led him up to my apartment, and entered, hoping he would walk in behind me, but was actually a little relieved when he didn’t.
I turned around and smiled. “I had fun tonight.”
He nodded. “I’m glad. So did I.”
“Thank you for being honest with me about that stuff with your ex. I appreciate your honesty. I feel like I know you much better now,” I said.
He stood staring at me for a moment and then finally he leaned down, wrapped his hand around my back and pulled me into him. I expected him to go for a kiss, but instead, he hugged me. My heart started pounding. It seemed so much more intimate, and as a result, much scarier. As he pulled away, it was I that hung on tight, keeping his nose hovering just centimeters from mine.
Shit. I was so close.
After Ryland and Ian and especially after learning Carson was still getting over his ex, I was going to be good, but with him so close to me, his cologne beckoning to me like one of those smoke fingers from a cartoon, and just his general broad shoulders, smoldering face sexiness, I lost all my willpower to keep myself off of him. Carson closed the distance and kissed me and I backed into my apartment, taking him with me. Our movements were hurried and desperate, the culmination of spending the night dancing around our attraction to one another, mixed with the liquor from the class. He undid my blouse and I threw off his jacket, as I backed us towards my couch and we collapsed down onto it. He tossed my shirt aside and then kissed along my breasts before biting the front clasp to my bra to snap it free.
Three Bosses’ Assistant: Love by Numbers Book 2 Page 6