“That was not getting carried away. That was a kiss. If you want to get carried away, I can strip that white dress off your body right now and show you what getting carried away is all about.”
“That’s quite all right.” She motions up and down my body with her finger. “I know your kind. You have office fantasies that border erotica, and I will tell you right now, Rath Westin, they’re not going to come true. I came here to work and work I shall. Do you hear me?”
Loud and clear.
* * *
“Please, Rath, stop teasing me,” Charlee groans, as she’s presses up against one of the windows of my office, completely naked and writhing against the cool glass.
My pants are down, my dick is rubbing against her ass, and my shirt is undone so I can feel her heated skin against mine.
“Tell me you want it,” I growl into her ear while holding her jaw so she can’t move. “Tell me you were lying this morning, that you don’t just come here to work, but that you come here to see me.”
“You know I do,” she says, moving her butt back. The hand that’s not gripping her jaw is teasing her pussy, barely gliding over her slit, making her crazy with need.
“That’s not what you said earlier. You said this is a place for working, not fucking.”
“I was a liar,” she says through clenched teeth as my finger slips inside her briefly, but then pull out. “Rath, stop,” she begs. “You’re being mean.”
I still and remove myself from her body. She turns quickly, only to be pinned against the window again, but I do it gently, lightly taking her hands in mine and move them above her head. I rest my forehead against hers and gently say, “Charlee, I’m never being mean in the bedroom. Don’t say that.”
“You won’t let me come,” she says, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Because I don’t want you to simply come. I want you to feel your entire orgasm from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. When you’re with me, you are going to be pleasured. It won’t only be us having sex. There’s going to be so much more to that, which means, I’ll take my time when I want. I’m not being mean. I’m pulling every last ounce of pleasure from you.”
I lightly kiss her lips and let one hand go while linking our fingers with the other. I cup her cheek and move my mouth across hers while slowly grinding my dick against her center. She moans into my mouth and her fingers curl over mine.
Unable to take much more, I wrap her leg around my waist and position my cock at her entrance right before lifting her up against the glass and plunging deep inside her. Hands still connected with my other arm holding her up, I fuck her against the window with powerful thrusts, loving how she feels wrapped around me and how she gives her body over to my control so easily.
It’s sexy.
It’s exactly what I need from her.
Nothing has ever felt like this. I’ve never felt like fucking is coming home, like this is where I should have been my entire life. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at the same time, and with each increased thrust, I greedily want more and more.
Our mouths connect, our bodies heighten in pleasure together, as our breaths become ragged and labored. Together our orgasms start to rise. Her core contracts around my cock, I swell inside of her as a plunging euphoria rolls down my spine.
“Yes,” she whispers breathlessly. “God, yes, Rath. Right . . . there.” She tenses and her pussy contracts even more, making it almost impossible to thrust. “Keep going. Please. Rath . . . shit . . . I’m coming.”
I’m right there with her as my hips pump faster and faster, my balls tighten, and before I can pull out, I come inside her. Fuck, I love the feel of her around my cock. Bare. Us. I’m fucking grateful she’s on the pill.
I hold her against the window while we catch our breath, my mouth traveling up her neck and then back down. Lingering kisses allow me to taste her delectable skin. Sweet with a hint of salt from our exertion. Soft and smooth, my scruff mars her beautiful complexion, marking her as mine. Her hands fall around my waist and she tilts her head to the side, granting me better access to her neck.
“Okay . . . we really need to get some work done now,” she says on a laugh when I move my mouth to her collarbone, heading south one more time.
“I think I’m good with doing this all day,” I murmur, taking one of her breasts in my hand.
“Rath, I’m serious.”
Sighing, I stop my pursuit and lower my head to her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” Her hand still in mine, I bring it to my mouth. “You’re still coming over to my place tonight?”
“My grandma wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I press a quick kiss to her nose. “And you? You want that?” She smiles and it’s almost her coy smile.
“Yes, Rath. I want that too.” I smack her ass and say, “Good. Get back to work.”
Clearly offended, she points her finger into my chest and says, “I suggest you don’t do that again.”
Chuckling, I hold up my hands. “No slapping the ass and sending you on your way. Got it.”
* * *
Sitting on my lap, wearing nothing but one of my button-up shirts . . . unbuttoned . . . Charlee plays with my hand as music plays in the background and the fireplace casts a light orange glow on her. Full and exhausted from our small fuck fest, we relax in each other’s arms, simply enjoying each other’s company.
Honestly, I don’t think I can remember a time I’ve ever felt this relaxed, this calm. It’s almost like Charlee is my drug, and she’s able to help me release every worry and stressor in my body by sitting on my lap.
“Come on, you have to have an embarrassing story to tell me.” She plays with the hair on the back of my head. “You’re so stoic all the time, but I see how you are with Bram and Roark. Tell me another story about your college days, something other than peeing in a hamper.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “You don’t want to hear that shit. It’s frat-boy crap that’s stupid and really demeans my image.”
“Well, I think you need to be brought down a peg or two in my mind because you’re being held in high regard right now. It’s not good.”
“Not good? I would say that’s pretty honorable. Why would I want to change that?”
“Because.” I run my hand up her thigh and try not to get excited when I glance down and see one of her breasts completely exposed. She continues on a heated breath, “If you tell me an embarrassing story, it might make you more human, which in return will be good for you, because then I might like you even more.”
“I don’t know, I don’t want you to get too clingy.” She tugs on the back of my hair, making me yelp. “Watch it. You don’t want a bald groom, do you?”
She shrugs. “There’s still time to call off the wedding. If you don’t reveal your secrets, how do I know if you’re the one for me? I can’t have dirt being brought up after I say I do.”
I clutch her thigh tightly and say, “First of all, there is no joking about calling off the wedding, do you hear me? You either want to get married or you don’t.” My voice comes out harsh, and I can’t help it. I’ve put a lot on the line here, including my heart, and I don’t want it being threatened.
Her face softens and she lifts one hand to my jaw where she carefully caresses the thick stubble. “I’m sorry.”
I kiss her palm and then I say, “Second, the only dirt you’ll dig up about me is in the bedroom.”
“Are you saying you’re kinky?”
I move my hand to her stomach and travel up to her breasts where I lightly massage them, and then roll her nipple between my fingers. Her breath hitches, but that’s the only indication she gives that she can feel what I’m doing to her. I draw circles over her nipples, turning them into perfect little peaks. I love the feel of them hard against my fingers, turned on, ready for my next move. Makes me feel fucking powerful, as stupid as that sounds.
“I know what I like,” I answer.
“Yeah.” Her other hand runs up an
d down my chest. “But you weren’t always like that. Tell me something embarrassing you did in the bedroom.”
“Yeah, okay,” I scoff. “No way in hell.”
“Please?” She pouts, causing me to laugh.
“You’re cute, you know that? But it’s not going to work. Sorry, babe.” I continue to rub my thumbs over her taut nipples, reveling in the simple touch that’s making us both a little heavier.
“Fine, I’ll tell you something about me and maybe it will get you to share.”
“I can guarantee it won’t.” God, her breasts are like candy to me, fitting in my palm sweet and tantalizing. What I wouldn’t give to bring one to my mouth right now, suck on her nipple until she’s undulating beneath my touch.
“But what I have to tell you is really good. Like . . . really good.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re a bit of a weirdo.”
“What?” Her eyes shoot open but then, she thinks about it and laughs. “Hmm, maybe I am a bit of a weirdo. But if I’m a weirdo, that means you’re stuck-up.”
“I’m not stuck-up.”
“Yes, you are. You’re very stuck-up.”
“Then you clearly don’t know me well enough because I’m anything but stuck-up.”
She leans in and presses a kiss against my cheek. “Thank you for making my point about needing you to share more.”
Damn . . . she’s good.
Dragging my hand over my face, I say, “Fine. I’ll share, but you go first so I know the level of embarrassment we’re going for.”
Excited, she straddles my lap and places both hands on my shoulders as she rubs her bare center up and down my boxer-covered lap. What the hell is she doing? And I hope she keeps doing it . . .
She pauses, glances down and then chuckles. “Honestly, Rath, how can you possibly have a boner right now after everything we’ve done?”
Looking her dead in the eyes, I say, “You’re hot as shit, wearing nothing but my unbuttoned shirt, and you’re straddling my lap. I’m going to get hard.”
“I mean . . . I’m flattered.” She smiles and then says, “Okay, are you ready for this?”
“Hit me.”
Hands on my chest, she says, “So I was drunk—”
“As all good failed sex stories start.”
She laughs. “Absolutely my undoing. So yes, tequila had a hold on me that night and there was this guy I was totally jiving with on the dance floor. One of those guys who has no problem pelvic thrusting his erect penis on the dance floor on any ass that comes within a foot of his hips.”
“A classy man.”
She bops my nose. “See? Stuck-up.” I roll my eyes. “So, we were dancing, he was cannon thrusting me in the throes of the bar, which then turned into some rather public making out. I climbed the man like a tree and whispered in his ear, ‘Bathroom.’”
I frown. “You know, I don’t think this was a good idea . . . to share.”
“Oh, hang up your jealousies for a second, this gets good.” Sighing, I let her proceed. “So, we meet in the bathroom but the handicap stall was taken so we went into one of the small ones. I faced the toilet, he was behind me. We used a condom, don’t worry, but I was wearing a skirt and basically just bent over, gripped the toilet, and let him have at it.”
“Jesus, Charlee.”
She shrugs. “I was twenty-one. YOLO. Anyway, this guy was just going to town, and of course, being the drunk lady that I was, I occasionally let out a giant whoop and waved my arm around.”
I cringe, wondering where this is going.
“Well, I timed my whoop at the wrong moment, and just as Cannon Cock blasted me from behind, the force was too powerful, I was too drunk, and I ended up flying forward, slipping, and thrusting my head straight into the toilet. In my scramble to get back up, since good old CC had no idea I was drowning in toilet water, I grabbed the handle to stand, yanked and . . . gave myself a swirly.”
What . . .
I mean . . .
Wait . . . I can’t.
I throw my head back and laugh so hard that my chest aches.
“Oh shit.” Tears stream down my face as I picture it in my mind, Charlee’s head completely soaked from toilet water, a swirl on the top of her head. Oh fuck, it’s too good.
I laugh even harder, my stomach starting to hurt.
She grips my shoulders, shaking me to look at her. Eyes blurry, I give her the attention she desires.
“The worst part of it was, he came when I was flushing myself so I didn’t even get to finish. Instead, I did the walk of shame back to campus with drenched hair, running makeup, and a sore vagina from the blasting I took. Not my best moment.”
I snort.
I chortle.
I try to hold it in, but I let out the biggest guffaw you have ever heard.
“That’s right, let it all out. Picture it, visualize it, and know that no matter how bad you want it, I will never fuck you in a bathroom stall . . . ever.”
That makes me stop and straighten up. “The fuck you won’t. Now we have to fuck in a bathroom stall to change your experience.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Not happening. Sorry.”
We’ll see about that.
“Okay”—she pats my chest—“your turn and it better be good. I told you about my sex swirly, so you need to tell me something excruciating.”
“Hell, I have nothing like a sex swirly in my back pocket.” Still chuckling, I say, “I wish I did.”
“Okay, then tell me something else. A family story or a fear. Something,” she says, eyes pleading.
I think back to the promise I made myself, the one where I make this girl stick around, make it impossible for her to leave. I want her to start falling for me the way I’ve started falling for her, so I take my hands in hers and let out a deep breath.
“How about a fear?” I ask.
“That is way more than I was expecting, but yes, please. Anything, Rath.”
God, she’s so desperate to know more, to know me. I make a mental note to try to tell her more.
I twist her hands together with mine and say, “Failure is a fear of mine, something that will cause me to stay up until all hours of the night. But it’s never business failure that plagues me.”
“Oh, really?” she asks. “What kind of failure.”
“Failing the person I’m interested in. Letting them down, not following through, failing at being the person they need me to be.” I stare at our hands. “I already failed someone and it’s eaten me up since. I think about how I could have changed things. How I could have been a better person, more attentive, and to this day, I’m still not quite sure where I went wrong. But I know I failed, and I don’t want to do that again.” I look up at her. “Especially with you.”
“Rath.” Her chest rises and falls quicker than before. “Why do you think you’re going to fail me?”
“It’s always in the back of my mind. I can be guarded as you know, and sometimes I forget to drop the shield and just feel.” I grip her tighter. “Help remind me?”
“Of course, but”—she bites her bottom lip and seems nervous—“is there more to us than just . . . having sex?” She chuckles. “And getting married?”
“Kind of out of order, I know, but I mean . . .” Fuck, I’m nervous too. If she’s not sure that this is more than just fucking, am I taking a huge risk here? If she could laugh at that, will she laugh at me declaring my heart? Do I take this risk? I swallow and look her in her beautiful eyes. “I like you, Charlee, more than I care to admit this early on, but it’s there, the feelings, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be devastated if we didn’t give this a shot. That’s if you want to.”
“As in not a fake marriage, but an actual relationship?”
I nod. “Yeah, an actual relationship.”
Smiling, she cuddles in closer and says, “Why, boss man, are you asking to date me?”
“Yeah, I am.” I cup her cheek, and press a lingering, sensual kiss to her mouth.
When I pull away, I say, “I’m breaking every rule I’ve ever set for myself and asking if you won’t only take my hand in marriage, not just fuck me, but if you’ll actually date me?”
“Oh, Lord help me, you’re so romantic.” She nods, turning serious. “I would love to date you, Mr. Westin.”
Relief spreads through me and I relax into the couch, not realizing how tense I was, waiting for her answer. Does she realize how happy her answer has made me? That I’m more to her than a means to an end? That I’m actually a man she wants to pursue?
Pride surges through me as I clutch her even tighter.
“Mmm, I like when you say Mr. Westin like that. Calling me Mr. Westin in the bedroom is completely acceptable.” I release her hands and grip her hips under the shirt and start rocking her up and down on my pelvis. “Care to meet me in the bathroom?”
She laughs, the sound music to my ears. “No. Not happening.”
“That’s what you think.” Before she can move, I lift her up off the couch and take her to my bedroom, with her laughing the entire time.
She could not be more perfect . . . for me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHARLEE
I pace the conference room, hands twining together in front of me, as I wait for my company to join me.
Prototypes are beautifully displayed in the middle of the table as if they’re primed and ready for the perfect Instagram picture. I had the art department create giant poster board sizes of my daily pages of the planner I’ve been putting together for the last few weeks. I kept the design modern and gender neutral despite wanting to decorate it with pretty flowers and hearts. Like Linus, there are male assistants within Westin Enterprises and I’m sure they’d appreciate something unadorned.
I glance at the fruit and pastry platter I put together early this morning, very pleased with how I was able to organize it by color coordination, fading into a rainbow of hues. It’s a marvel to look at and calms my nerves.
This morning, I woke up to Rath’s large palm spread across my stomach, his head buried in my hair. For such a strong, stoic man, he’s a squishy cuddly bear in bed. He’s unwavering when it comes to separating at night, always needing a hand on me. That means I have to sleep naked because he’s a heat box, which then results into him spreading my legs first thing in the morning and not letting me leave the bed until we both come.
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