SIR

by R. J. Lewis

  I kiss him back, lapping my tongue against his. I can feel his other hand moving around me. He grips his cock and pulls away from my mouth as he situates himself at my pussy.

  Somewhere in my daze, I tense with fear. “Too fast,” I whisper quickly. “Too fast for you.”

  He chuckles wickedly. “Too fast for me? Are you crazy, Ivy? I’ve been wanting to fuck you since you showed up at my door—”

  “What if you’re not ready—”

  “I’m ready. Fuck, I am so ready for your pussy, Ivy Montcalm. It’s all I think about.”

  And then he pushes himself into me, groaning loud, sucking in shocked breaths as he sinks himself into me. I grow still, my eyes closing as the feeling of pleasure erupts inside me. He fills me whole, and it’s like…it’s like he was never gone. My forehead drops to his, unable to stop the groans coming out of my mouth.

  I wait for a moment of apprehension.

  I think it’s coming…

  I wait for it, but all I feel is him, moving inside me, and I want it, I want it so bad.

  It feels so right.

  He fucks me, moving in and out of me. His arms wrap around my waist. He keeps me pressed against him, unmoving as he fucks me hard and fast, his mouth buried against mine, but we aren’t kissing. We’re exchanging breaths, one pant after the other.

  He slows then too, moving so that I can really feel every inch of him inside me. My eyes adjust to the darkness. I can see his eyes on me, his face is full of pleasure and need. He kisses me properly this time, wet kisses, tongues clashing, his hands now cupping my ass as he moves me up and down.

  “God, yes, Aidan,” I whimper as he continues, rebuilding that spark inside me. “God, don’t stop.”

  He watches me intently, saying nothing, his breaths hard and fast. He fucks me at a pace that is so delicious, I’m going cross-eyed. Fast, but commanding, like he is in control of every stroke, and he wants me to feel him fill me whole every single time.

  I lose myself in his arms, in the feel all around me. He licks up my neck when I throw my head back; he sucks my skin like he can’t get enough of the taste of me. He fucks me, making sure my clit rubs against him, making sure when I come—I’m going to feel it everywhere.

  And I do.

  I cry out, every inch of me blanketed in warm, delicious pleasure.

  I pulse and pulse, gripping his shoulders as I ride through the wave, as he watches me from under me.

  I’m hardly finished coming when I feel him grunt deep in his chest. His cock jerks inside me as he comes, his mouth buried at my throat, his teeth grazing my skin.

  Fuck, that was good.

  I collapse against him, and he welcomes it, holding me in his arm, his hand stroking down my back. A few seconds later, he lays me down on the bed. He covers my body with his. His head is at my breasts and he’s sucking at them, playing with my nipples, kneading them both so they’re pressed together and he can’t get enough.

  Then he’s back between my legs and pushing into me, filling me with his half-hard cock. He lays there, propped on his elbows now, gazing down at me as his cock hardens slowly.

  Again.

  He’s going to fuck me again.

  This time he watches me, stares me in the eyes as he moves, his brows coming together as he studies my expression.

  I wonder what he sees.

  All my emotion has come undone.

  Because like this—us pressed together—feels like old times. It feels like he’s the same man I fell in love with. The fire in his eyes is the same, after all.

  I thought we weren’t supposed to be looking at each other. I thought we were going to hide behind our walls. I prefer to hide. I need to hide—

  He fucks me until I’m writhing beneath him, until I’m clutching him to me tightly, nails dragging down his neck.

  I say his name like I’ve said it a thousand times in bed before.

  Aidan. Aidan. Aidan.

  And there’s nothing impersonal about it.

  I’m clutching him to me like a lifeline, tears springing in my eyes as I’m being given the feel of him in the way I treasured and longed to relive.

  When I come, I’m a mess, heart hurting with every beat as he follows suit, his jaw tensing above me as he quietly rides through the wave, watching me like he knows.

  Like he knows everything.

  Twenty-Six

  Ivy

  It’s going to happen.

  The truth is going to be revealed. I can sense it. I would be a fool to deny it if he were to ask me again.

  And suddenly, I’m terrified of it.

  I grab my clothes and rush to the bathroom to clean myself up. I feel his eyes on me the entire way there. I take my time washing myself, putting on my clothes, and then sitting there, on the edge of the tub, waiting.

  Maybe he’ll be gone when I’m out and I won’t have to confront him.

  I give it a few more minutes before I eventually wade back out of the bathroom. I glimpse the bed, tensing for a split second. He’s not on there. I think he did leave—

  “Interesting response, Ivy,” his voice breaks through the silence, and I whip around. He’s standing by the door, back against the wall, watching me in the dark. “You can lie about many things, but never during the throes of passion. And you…you were very passionate.”

  My throat is dry. I clear it, uttering, “What do you mean?”

  He smirks slowly, but there’s no feeling behind it as he says, “I’ve been here before. This is…familiar. Something happened between us—something very profound. I am aching, hurting, I feel raw, as though I have been driven to the brink of pain, and you’re responsible for it. What did you do to me, Ivy Montcalm?”

  Panic seizes me, fear clenching my heart. “You said you wanted to figure it out on your own—”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he interrupts. “Tell me.”

  But I don’t answer. I just look back at him, holding my breath as I stare into his eyes. He’s drowning in mine, searching for an answer. I’m not ready…

  He moves off the wall and strides to me. I take a few steps back, keeping the distance between us. When he sees me move away, he stops in the middle of the room and raises his hand out to me.

  “Let me come closer,” he says softly. “Please.”

  I’m perfectly still, staring at his hand as he moves to me slowly, closing the gap. My heart is racing, anxiety pooling at the pit of my stomach. His arm wraps around my body, bringing me flush against him. I melt against his warmth as he raises his other hand and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. He gazes at it as he does so, and I shut my eyes, clouded in his scent and warmth. He holds me for a few moments, breathing steadily as I hold my breath.

  “I’ve owned these lips long before now, haven’t I?” he then says, and it doesn’t sound like a question. “They’ve tasted me, too. Every part of me.”

  He redirects his gaze to me. “End my misery. Tell me who you are.”

  I try to be strong, weakly responding, “I’m your assistant.”

  “If you’re telling the truth,” he murmurs, dropping his head to graze his lips against mine, “then what we did meant nothing to you, and as I recall, you don’t have meaningless sex, and even if you did, you would never have gotten so hung up on those women coming to my door, or Nina being here—”

  “Nina is a snake,” I retort, opening my eyes to look at him. “She would never have satisfied you, Mr West. She had you wrapped around her finger—”

  “She didn’t,” he says calmly.

  “She drugged you—”

  “Only after I cast her out.”

  “She should never been cast in to begin with. You let her back into your life, into your bed, so she did. She did have you wrapped around her finger,” I tell him, unable to hide the bite in my words. “It would have been easy to sit back and watch her wreck you. She loved your destruction, and she fueled you, and you were okay with that because you loved the feeling of burning. You’re both ch
aos, and if that truly suits you, then you deserve each other.”

  His eyes don’t waver, searching mine. “Did I tell you that once, Ivy?”

  I go still.

  He notices. “I did, didn’t I? Is that because I discarded her for good? Please give me that. I’d like to know that for a time I lived free of her. That I was thriving.”

  I close my eyes tightly. I feel the hurt in his voice.

  “Ivy?”

  I turn away. “Good night, Mr West.”

  “I’d rather you tonight, if you don’t mind.”

  I whip back in his direction. “What?”

  “I’d rather you in my bed this time.”

  “Yeah, for another meaningless fuck.”

  “So what?”

  My heart jumps as I furiously say, “I can’t do meaningless. You saw it in me just now. I can’t use you. I am not like Nina, or those desperate idiots wanting a piece of Aidan West, the billionaire tech god, Asshole of the East. I am nothing like them.”

  “Something tells me you’re more.”

  I stand my ground, giving nothing away.

  He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Maybe I should invite any of those women back here. Would that bother you?”

  I swallow back a curse, saying nothing.

  He raises his brows, expectantly. “Tell me not to and I won’t.”

  I press my lips together hard.

  “Come on, Miss Montcalm,” he urges quietly. “Let’s stop playing around.”

  “I’m not playing,” I retort.

  “Then answer my question.”

  “Who you fuck is not my concern.”

  “I’m worried it is,” he whispers thoughtfully. “And you’re not telling me because you’re not allowed to.”

  He’s too smart, or I’m too obvious.

  My eyes are shining with fear, sadness, anger. I’m a mess, and he’s starting to really see the cracks.

  “You want to know something?” he says then, voice softer now. “I never took Nina to bed. I didn’t lay a finger on her. I didn’t feel the slightest bit of inclination to, either. I know what she was like to me, and I may not have had the fortitude before my accident to turn her away, but waking up to those white walls, it was almost like being reborn.”

  I don’t say anything. I’m trying to process his words, trying to believe he didn’t touch her this entire time. “You didn’t touch her?” I whisper.

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No,” he repeats. “For what purpose would I lie?”

  I’m trembling now because it’s almost too good to believe.

  “I never took a single woman to bed save for you.”

  I swallow, unable to speak.

  “What I find bizarre is you,” he continues. “The way you’ve reacted to it all…it has me wondering something…” He tilts his head to the side as he watches me carefully. “The way you’re looking at me with those doe eyes, I’m coming a little undone. I need to know…”

  “What?” I let out.

  With a faltering breath, he asks, “Are you mine?”

  My shoulders fall in defeat and my face breaks. My eyes water and a tear falls slowly down my cheek. I’m done. Utterly done. I can’t hold it in any longer. I look at him, breaking apart in front of him and whisper, “Yes.”

  His face falls in shock. He’s horrified, like he didn’t expect my response. He takes a moment, his mind blazing. “Did you hurt me?” he asks me next, peering at me intently.

  I nod once. “Yes.”

  He nods back, looking paler. “I knew it.”

  “Then why do you look so shocked?”

  “Because you’re the first person who’s given me a straight answer since I woke up in that hospital.”

  I should regret telling him this, but I feel freer already. I couldn’t keep the façade up. It felt unnatural. I failed, but it doesn’t feel like that. Aidan looks equally relieved but lost.

  “Was I free of her then?” he asks again, seeking an answer as he looks at me. “Was I free of Nina?”

  I hesitate.

  His voice is demanding. “Tell me, Ivy.”

  My voice is small. “Yes.”

  “She claimed I loved her.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I wasn’t with her?”

  I shake my head slowly. “No.”

  “I was with you?”

  “For a time.”

  He won’t tear his eyes from mine, searching. “You’re being truthful?”

  “I would never lie to you about this,” I tell him. “And with Nina, you said what she did to you—”

  “The stealing?”

  “Everything.”

  “What else?”

  I clasp my hands together tightly, feeling nervous. “Does it matter?”

  His face goes hard as he shakes his head once. “No, I always knew she was lying but…I had her around because she was familiar…familiarity gave me comfort among all this uncertainty. They kept telling me to find myself, and all I wanted to do was cling to what I knew.”

  Now that I could understand.

  “You closed that chapter on your life for good,” I try explaining.

  “What chapter?”

  “The partying…the boozing and the drugs…and her…all of it. You never felt so satisfied, you said.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper just then.

  This is a huge information dump.

  He looks at me one more time, breathing steadily now. There’s conflict in him.

  He’s coming apart, and he wants to run.

  I realize he didn’t expect me to actually answer him—neither did I, to be honest. I know how important it was for him to relearn everything on his own, but this never felt right.

  “Aidan…” I start, but I have no words.

  He simply nods, but not at me.

  He’s nodding to himself.

  Then he turns away and strides to the door. He leaves without looking back once.

  Aidan

  I run, mind oddly still. My entire body hums with every step. People run and don’t stop until their bodies ache; I run until the pain ebbs from my body, until I’m hurting no more, until my lungs are burning instead of my soul.

  I run until I can’t physically run anymore, and then I sit down on a park bench, watching the sunrise.

  I search my mind, piecing together those fragments, understanding things now.

  They were real.

  They were of her.

  Of Ivy.

  She was—is—mine, and I almost can’t fathom it.

  My eyes ache. I stare at the sunrise, whispering Ruth’s name. “Take away this pain…Guide me.”

  Ruth is no more.

  She is gone forever, and all I have are these…memories of her. All those moments I took for granted; moments that are now memories I treasure and would give anything to relive.

  I wonder what sort of moments I had with Ivy, and then I can’t bear to think about it anymore without feeling a wave of sudden rage—

  They all lied to me.

  For good reason. My mind whispers.

  But they lied, and she stood before me—mine, all mine—and I had treated her like she was nothing more than a hopeless employee.

  I rip my phone out of my pocket and dial him. I feel the pressure in my chest grow, and for once, I wish I were numb again.

  “Yeah?” Alex answers. “What’s going on?”

  “You knew,” I simply say, my voice strangely calm. “You fucking knew.”

  Alex is silent for a moment, and then he says, “And now you know.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Ivy

  I don’t sleep.

  I lay in bed the entire night on the off chance he comes to my door. I worry he’ll discard me like he did Nina. It’s a scary thought. My mind races as I spin the bangle around my wrist anxiously.

  The night is long and dreadful.

&n
bsp; The sun comes up, and I watch every inch of it flood into the room. My raw eyes ache, and I feel like I’m going to puke from exhaustion.

  I quickly rinse in the shower because I didn’t get to the night before. I wear a black pencil skirt with a tanned body suit. I picked this top because it shows off a bit of my cleavage, and I’m sort of desperate to impress West any way I can.

  Please, do not discard me.

  My hair is wet and loose around me. I try to dry it but I’m running late to his office. Leave it to me to live in the house I work in and still show up late.

  I don’t even get to have my coffee.

  My head is pounding as I trudge to his office. There’s not a peep in the apartment, and I suddenly wish Tilda was here.

  My heart is going BOOM, BOOM, BOOM as I open the door and step in.

  He’s in the office, fresh suit on, hair wet and tousled to the side. He looks solemn, unreadable. His eyes flicker up to mine as I step in. I’m feeling awkward. He doesn’t say anything as I force a smile in his direction and make my way to the chair next to him.

  Oh, man, this just feels really weird.

  I take a seat and don’t know what to do. I’m so nervous, I want to vomit. I pick up the pen and open the drawer, removing the binder. I open it, pretending to act busy. I even lean under the desk and turn on the computer because I’m learning how to do spreadsheets (and sucking hard at them).

  This is uncomfortable.

  His head is turned in my direction and he’s watching me but saying nothing. Maybe he’s waiting for me to break the ice.

  I turn to him, swallowing hard and force another smile. “I feel like perhaps we need to discuss certain things.”

  His eyes are completely void of emotion as he stares at me. I don’t expect it.

  “Is it pertaining to work, Miss Montcalm?” His voice is detached.

  “Well, no—”

  “Then no.”

  Okay.

  I look away, fingers shaking as I pretend to look over the papers from the day before. Now he’s scribbling something on a notepad. I feel his tension—his anger. He tears the sheet and slams it in front of me loudly.