SIR

by R. J. Lewis

  I am so weak.

  “But first, we should really rewrite some rules,” I add now that I have his attention. “I need you to be okay with me swearing. This is just a weakness of mine that I’m working on. I need your full support.”

  “In what world do you think you have the power to negotiate, Miss Montcalm?” he asks, bewildered. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge.”

  “You are,” I say, voice dropping lower. “You are in charge. I wouldn’t have it any other way, either.”

  “Then why are you standing in my way?”

  “Because, on a very deep—very, very deep level—I think you want me here, standing in your way.”

  He moves to me slowly. “You are infuriating,” he growls. “You’ve hardly been here a second and you’re driving me crazy.”

  I look up at him anxiously as he stops in front of me. “In a good way or bad?”

  He looks down at me, searching my eyes. “I haven’t figured that out.”

  I’m shocked when he raises his hand to my hair. His brows furrow as he takes the red strands and runs them through his fingers. He drops his head down to me, startling me when his mouth wavers closer to mine. I go still, holding my breath.

  “You need to be careful,” he warns quietly. “I can have you sacked for sexual harassment.”

  My eyes widen. “You feel sexually harassed, Mr West?”

  “Very.”

  “Was it my comment about assisting you in any way?”

  His gaze drops to my mouth. “That’s one example.”

  “What’s another?”

  He comes closer to me, caging me with his body. I feel every inch of him pressed against me, and I shut my eyes for a moment, flooded with warmth and memories. When I open my eyes, I feel like I’m looking straight at Aidan—my Aidan.

  My eyelids grow heavy as he whispers, “Another example is the way you’re looking at me right now, Miss Montcalm.”

  I stare at his lips. “What do we do about this?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  I swallow as memories flood me, remembering the sting of his hand slapping my ass, followed by his fingers slipping into my pussy, pumping me as I groaned in pleasure. “You can punish me, Mr West.”

  His breathing picks up. I can feel his excitement pressing against my hip. He’s so close to me, his mouth still hovers an inch from mine. His fingers move down the side of my body and then up. He trails his index along my left breast, all the while watching my face closely. He traces the outline of my breast before he settles his hand around it and squeezes gently. I let out a shocked breath, leaning into his touch.

  I can’t bear it anymore.

  “Sir…” I whisper, panting.

  I lean in and graze my lips against his. It’s a light kiss, but one he immediately reacts to. He kisses me back. It’s not the fiery kiss I had in mind. It’s slow and soft. He kisses me intimately, sucking my bottom lip, slipping his tongue between my lips, caressing my own. My entire body tightens. My heart beats in my ears as I grow warmer against him. He squeezes my breast again, but he doesn’t stop. He’s kneading it, his fingers squeezing along my nipples through the bra.

  “Sir…” I repeat, unable to hold back.

  He runs both hands down the length of me again, this time with more intent. They come up under my grey dress without hesitation. He squeezes my ass cheeks firmly, bringing me closer so I can feel every inch of his hard cock. He pulls up my dress until it’s around my hips, and oh, fuck, is this really happening? He pulls away to look down at my bare skin. He groans deep in his throat; I love that sound; it’s coated in need, and now I’m longing for his mouth, for a more eager kiss.

  His hands come around my thighs and he picks me up quickly. He takes my mouth with his own, and this time our kiss grows more desperate as he presses my back against the closed door, caging me. I moan in his mouth as he settles his cock against my center. It runs along my clit through my panties. I let out a harsh breath at the pleasure shooting through me.

  “Fuck, Ivy,” he groans, sounding shocked. He grinds his cock against my center, sending another thrum of pleasure through me. “Why the fuck does this feel so good? Hmm?”

  It always feels so good with you, I want to say.

  My arms wrap around him, holding on. I pant against his mouth as he continues to move against me, kissing me harder. He shows no mercy with his kisses. I know the language of his tongue—that hasn’t changed. I keep up with him, allowing him the lead before I pull back and take his lips in my own way. It sends him wild. He holds me tighter, groaning louder, giving away his surprise.

  He’s going to fuck me right here and now. It’s too fast. It’s probably really wrong. This isn’t how I’m supposed to be helping Aidan find himself, but I’m wet and wanting, and it feels so fucking good to be touched by him again.

  All those looks; endless days of painful needy looks…I can’t fight against this anymore.

  He pulls his face back to look down at me. His mouth is red and ravaged. There’s curiosity in his eyes now as he regards my flushed face.

  “I can see every inch of your body in my mind without having seen it entirely bare,” he rasps heatedly, squeezing my ass again as he gazes at me. “Why is that, Ivy?”

  I shrug weakly, wanting to bring his lips back to mine. “Maybe you have powers.”

  Now his face cools as he pulls further back. “When are you going to tell me the truth?”

  My heart jumps. “There’s no truth to tell.”

  His eyelids are still heavy when he demands, “Have you worked for me in anyway before?”

  “No.”

  He frowns, like he’s disappointed by my response. Then he counters, “Of course not. You know next to nothing about business. You’re deplorable at what you do.”

  “I am,” I agree in earnest. “But I am trying, sir.”

  He drops his head back down to me, lips grazing mine again. “Have I ever fucked you before, Ivy? Because every time you say the word sir, I keep thinking of you sucking my cock with that sinful fucking mouth you have.”

  I swallow hard, face burning. “I think that’s just your dirty mind.”

  “I’m hard as fuck right now.”

  “I can feel that, and frankly I’m a little disappointed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you haven’t told me how I may assist you with that.”

  He stills. I catch the hint of a smile on his lips, but he’s past the point of smiling. He’s going to kiss me again, I think.

  “You like me rubbing my cock against your pussy, Miss Montcalm?”

  I nod, shamelessly. “I do.”

  “Would you suck my cock until I came?”

  “Happily.”

  “How do you think I like to be sucked?”

  “You like it deep,” I say without thinking, and then after catching myself, I weakly add, “I think.”

  He suddenly puts me down and tangles a hand into my hair, pushing me down. There’s so much hunger in his glare. “On your fucking knees, Ivy,” he tells me in a strained voice. “Show me how you think I like it.”

  I drop to my knees, feeling a sting in my scalp as he grips me tighter.

  “Undo my belt.”

  My fingers are shaky as I bring them up and start to undo it. I look up at him, and he grips me harder like he’s punishing me for it.

  “Unzip me.”

  I follow his instructions, unzipping his pants. He pulls his briefs down and before I can even think, he pulls his cock out and brings my mouth to him. I open for him as he shoves himself between my lips and goes still, letting out a hard, shocked breath. He behaves the same needy way as he did in the car. It’s almost like…he’s unused to pleasure, and while I know that’s not the case, it riles me up. Sparks shoot through me as I hungrily take his cock into my mouth, sucking him, unable to stop my eager lips as I move, taking him in as deep as I can.

  His groans rip from his throat above me. I hear his forehead knock aga
inst the wall behind me. His hand is still tightly gripping my hair, helping me move along to his pace, which is fast and deep.

  “Fuck yes,” he curses, moving his hips now. “That fucking mouth feels so good…”

  Now both his hands are in my hair, and he’s moving even faster, telling me to suck him, to bring him in deeper. “Deeper than that,” he growls.

  I try to keep up, but it’s almost like he isn’t himself. He uses me, uses my mouth, his eyes glazed, his lips parted, his face in utter disbelief. I catch the way his legs shudder as he approaches his peak. His groans are louder, turning into throatier growls as he uses me for his pleasure.

  Then he suddenly pulls out of my mouth and grips his cock, jerking a few seconds before he comes hard, cock pressed against my parted lips. My face is coated with him, and there’s so much of him, I’m stunned. You don’t get this sort of build-up by fucking all the time.

  At least, I don’t think.

  His face crumbles before me as he takes one look at me. His eyes run along my face, along his pleasure, and then he’s buckling himself up. I start to stand up on wobbly legs while he hurries to the desk, grabbing the bin and tissue box. Then he returns; his face is flushed as he pulls the tissues out one by one and cleans me. He runs the tissue over my face, looking guilt-ridden.

  “Sorry,” he whispers through his heavy breaths. “I should have asked…”

  My eyes soften as I watch him go about cleaning his come off my face. He won’t meet my eye, and his hand trembles. He throws the tissues in the bin and runs a hand over his hair, looking momentarily lost, like he doesn’t know how to react after that.

  I like seeing this polished man come undone.

  I push my dress down and walk past him, saying, “I’m glad I got to assist you, Mr West—”

  He grabs my arm, cutting me off. He pulls me back to him suddenly, and as I turn to look at him, surprised by his action, his lips are back on mine. He coats me with tender kisses, kisses filled with fervor. It’s so sudden, I’m unprepared.

  Love builds in my chest at the feel of so much emotion behind his kiss. I feel pressure build behind my eyes as he grips my dress again and brings it up and around my waist. Then he’s picking me up and moving us back to the wall, pressing my back against it as his mouth never leaves mine.

  My skin heats as his hand finds my center. He pushes my panties aside and drums his fingers along my clit, rubbing me slowly as his mouth explores my skin. I jerk at his touch, at his tongue lapping at my throat, gasping at the feelings he’s pulling from me.

  I’m utterly absorbed by the pleasure when he pulls his mouth away, whispering in my ear, “I know you. I think I know you better than most, in fact.”

  I don’t respond. My eyes are too heavy, my body is wound up tight, longing for that release. For that short moment, I’m transported back to the past. His soft movements, his hot breaths, his familiar kisses—I’m back there with him again, the man that pledged to love me forever.

  I come hard, my mind completely obliterated. His movements stop and his hand is no longer buried between my legs. He holds me, peering at me, waiting for me to finally open my eyes and look back at him.

  When I do, he searches my gaze, his lips pinched together as he studies me. I shift my eyes away, feeling remarkably transparent. My orgasm is long gone, and replacing it is great unease. I’ve gone and done it again. I dropped my walls and let him into me, believing so heartily that there was a shadow of his former self in his kisses.

  I’m invested in this—in his touch, in his kisses, in him. And I feel foolish, because he doesn’t do love. At most, he guessed I might be his lover, and that conversation still stings, and I shouldn’t bring it to the now—

  “Is that regret I detect, Miss Montcalm?” he asks suddenly in an attempt to read my emotions.

  I shake my head weakly. “It’s not that…”

  “Pity then?” There’s a bite there in his tone, and I shake my head again. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” I lie, shutting my eyes briefly, adding, “Maybe it’s not nothing. I don’t know. This…doing this, with you, is hard for me.”

  Sadness builds inside me as I try and work through my emotions. Meanwhile Aidan has retreated into himself, appearing cooler as he replies, “Then why does your body want it so much?”

  I swallow. “My body wants it very badly…”

  He waits for me to continue, but this time I can’t because my words are choked up.

  “Then this was another mistake, I presume,” he says carefully, pausing for my response.

  “Is that what you feel?” I ask, holding my breath, as I lay my hand flat against his cheek.

  My heart beats quickly as his eyes blink shut at my touch, and then they open again to study me. He’s searching for something, and it’s unnerving. I don’t know if he finds his answer in my expression, or if I’m hiding myself well.

  Then he speaks. “You told me just this morning to trust my gut.”

  I simply nod, returning his gaze, guarded now. “I did.”

  What is his gut telling him right now?

  He hovers there, contemplating as I wait, holding my breath.

  He frowns and slowly sets me down. My body feels cold when he steps back from me. I quickly push my dress down as uneasy feelings pool inside me. I shouldn’t have done this—God, I should have been stronger.

  I failed myself again.

  When I catch Aidan’s eye, they linger on mine, but they’re filled with a totally new emotion.

  Hurt.

  Where does it come from?

  My heart drops in my chest because I wonder if he’s feeling an emotion I put there. Like his gut answered, and he hates me still.

  I’m sorry. I want to say. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready and hurt you.

  He turns away, cutting the moment, and moves back to his desk. He sits down and lets out a heavy breath. He’s conflicted, like he’s lost and trying to find himself.

  I haven’t moved from my spot beside the door. I stare at him, waiting for him to decide what to do next. This wasn’t planned, but we can salvage this. We can pretend nothing happened. Again. I press a hand against the door, steadying myself.

  “I need you out, Miss Montcalm,” he suddenly says in a strained voice.

  My chest sinks. “But we’re not done.”

  “We are.”

  “We have more work, Mr West.”

  “I can do the rest on my own.”

  “But—”

  “I’m dismissing you.”

  “Mr West—”

  “Leave,” he hisses angrily. “I don’t want you here, Miss Montcalm. I want you gone.”

  He’s done with me.

  Just like that.

  What…

  Now he’s peering at me coldly and seeing all my hurt. The difference is he doesn’t look like he cares about it. He split me open, filled me with hope, kissed me like he cared, and now there’s nothing there. How lucky he is to shut himself off when he wants to. If only I had the luxury of doing the same.

  “You’re so cold,” I choke out, tears springing to my eyes. “Up and down all the time, you’re hot and then so fucking cold, Mr West.”

  He looks back at me, saying nothing. There’s no emotion in his expression as he gapes lifelessly at me, waiting for me to go.

  With a heavy heart, I leave.

  Twenty

  Ivy

  I don’t just leave.

  I keep leaving.

  The house is suffocating, and I can’t bear it anymore.

  Feeling tremors of anger, I storm out the front door. I walk for ages down the long driveway under the sun. I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to feel like I’m getting away.

  I’m running from him, from that cold rejection. From feeling like I am legit getting nowhere, and my time here has been utterly pointless. I let him touch me. Let him get to me. Let him kiss me and, as a result, he felt my passion. He used it, tasted it, and then told me
to leave because he didn’t want me there.

  Every beat of my heart hurts, and I rub at my chest, trying to soothe it better, but it’s not going away. I can’t stand being here. I’ve gulped all the anger, pain and poison down my entire time here and now it’s all clawing back up and out of me.

  I dig my phone out of my pocket and call Steven, panting because I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

  “Ivy,” he answers straightaway.

  “I can’t do this!” I let out, feeling the pain intensify. “I can’t fucking do this anymore, Steven! I am done! Do you hear me? The Aidan we know is gone!”

  “Calm down, Ivy,” he says soothingly, his breaths picking up. “Tell me what happened. Has he hurt you?”

  “He hurts me every single minute I’m inside that fucking house,” I cry out, running a hand through my hair. I’m wigging out. “He’s breaking me.”

  “Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Everything! And nothing! Nothing because I’m not getting anywhere. I never will at this rate.”

  “We don’t see the progress being made when we’re living it, Ivy,” he assures me.

  “Don’t go all poetic on me, Steven.”

  “I’m not…but I’m certain you’re wrong. You’re getting somewhere.”

  I don’t agree. Not after that brutal discard. Thing is, it might have been fine any other day, but this time it came after those soft and intimate caresses. He basically flayed me open and then told me to take my aching, pained self out of his room.

  I continue walking.

  The distance should be making me feel better, but when I look back at the house growing smaller, I feel like I’m betraying Aidan by abandoning him.

  “I should have left the second I saw Nina,” I say.

  “I’m sorry you endured that.”

  “You don’t know what this has been like.”

  “I’m sorry, Ivy.” I hear the pain in his voice.