SIR

by R. J. Lewis

  “This is a list of shit I want done by the end of the day,” he says firmly, standing up.

  I look up at him, anxious. “Where are you going?”

  He doesn’t look back. “Out.”

  He storms out of the office and leaves me.

  He doesn’t come back the entire day.

  *

  It’s been five days of this bullshit. He’s never in the office. He’s never around me. I’m hanging by a thread, constantly questioning how long I’ll be here for. I haven’t once been able to breathe easy.

  For five days we’ve been under the same roof and yet I haven’t even crossed paths with him. I don’t know what he’s doing, thinking, feeling. I regret not going to him when I had the chance.

  In the evenings I hear the door slam shut, and I don’t know if that’s him coming or leaving. I think he’s been going on a lot of runs. He’s had a lot of idle time to think things through, but I wish he would talk to me so I can set things straight. Him avoiding me like the plague is a bad sign.

  My time here is coming to an end, I’m certain of it.

  I’m terrified.

  “Calm down,” Ana consoles me, hearing my pain. “He’s just processing.”

  I look out of my blinds, tucked into the windowsill. “He would process better if I was there—”

  “No,” she cuts in. “He’s gotta think first. Think of the space you needed when everything went down between you two. You have to respect his space. Don’t go to him—”

  “What if he takes that as me not caring?”

  She lets out a scoff. “Ivy, you put your entire life on pause to be there for him. You don’t need to prove you care for him at all, and if he walked away with that idea in his head, then good riddance to him.”

  I let out a breath, calming down. “You’re right.”

  She hears me breathe for a few minutes. “Ivy,” she whispers, concerned. “I don’t like that you’re there on your own—”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Alex is still gone, and you need someone.”

  “He’s wrapped up in his own emotions—”

  “I want to see you.”

  I go quiet, stunned. “You can’t just ditch work—”

  “I have lots of time off accrued. I can do it. Just say the word and I’m there.”

  I wrap my arm around my knees and press them to my chest. It’s very tempting having her here. But it’s also very selfish. “You wanted to go to Mexico.”

  “Mexico will always be there,” she says, and I don’t answer. She sighs, “Ivy, you’re vulnerable.”

  “I just want to know he’s okay.”

  “And he is okay,” she tells me firmly. “Aidan is okay, Ivy. He’s a big boy.”

  My eyes water. “I feel guilty, you know? Like I shouldn’t have come out and done this. I should have just told him how it was.”

  “He wouldn’t have believed you, or he would have pushed you away, like Alex said. You needed to be there. Aidan needed to see you, be around you, feel drawn to you. He said to you countless times he knew you. He just didn’t know the depths of it.”

  I recall an earlier conversation with him. “He laughed when I mentioned we could be madly in love with one another.”

  “Yeah, because he couldn’t fathom that. He doesn’t think he’s capable of loving someone so much, and then to suddenly be told he was capable of it at one point with the woman who’s been in his very office for weeks now?” She lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I get his confusion, his shock. He needs time.”

  But how much time?

  I just want to know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. It pains me that he might be broken somewhere nearby and I can’t reach out to him.

  This feels like hell.

  *

  Today is an important day. We have an appointment with a businessowner. He’s here to deliver his pitch, which means Aidan will be in the same room as me for the first time in forever.

  I’m so nervous.

  There’s a chance he won’t show up, but I don’t think that’s his style.

  And yet… Aidan doesn’t appear, not even when the doorbell rings and I have to welcome Abir in at the front door.

  “Hello,” he says, smiling.

  “Hi, Mr Abir,” I say, smiling back. “Follow me.”

  I lead him to the office, glancing back at him a couple times. He’s sweating already, and he’s got this weird long stick device in his hands. Ew.

  We enter the office and I take a seat behind the desk. He stands in the middle of the room, looking sickeningly nervous.

  “Either Mr West turned into a beautiful lady, or he isn’t here yet,” he jokes, but it’s such a nervous joke, and it doesn’t help that he follows it up with an over-the-top laugh.

  I laugh along, too, because I feel bad. You can’t leave a person hanging on a bad joke. It’s just not cool, and I don’t want to go to hell.

  “I’m just the personal assistant,” I explain.

  “Yes, I spoke with you on the phone. Miss Mantcamp.”

  I don’t correct him. “Mm.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “That looks like a cool invention,” I say next.

  He raises the stick, showing me the scooper on the other end. “I designed it myself.”

  “Amazing,” I force out.

  His cheeks go red. “I like to think so, too.”

  Awkward, awkward silence.

  “The weather good?” I ask next, sighing internally.

  “Raining.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you found your way here just fine?”

  “GPS did the work. Bless those things.”

  “Good to hear.”

  More silence.

  Sweet mercy, the door opens then, and Aidan strides in. His steps are quick and brisk. He moves across the room, buttoning up his grey suit jacket once as he rounds the desk and settles in next to me. His cologne is like a burst of fresh air, and I’m sitting upright now, eyes trained on him because it feels like forever since I last saw him.

  “Mr Abir was just showing me his invention,” I begin to tell him on a weak smile. “He was—”

  “Mr Abir,” Aidan interrupts me, staring coolly at the man. “You may begin.”

  I close my mouth—he doesn’t like me today—and redirect my gaze at Mr Abir as he comes to us and settles the stick on the desk and moves back, clasping his hands. When he begins, nervous and sweating, I take the opportunity to glance back at Aidan.

  Aidan’s eyes are drilled on the man, which isn’t helping matters. His stare is penetrating, intimidating. He is not making Mr Abir feel very good. Abir stumbles at times, forgetting his lines, and for a moment I feel like I’m on an episode of Dragon’s Den, and Aidan is the asshole Dragon.

  Aidan spins a pen between two hands, literally giving nothing away. I keep smiling at Abir, hoping it’ll encourage him to continue, but it’s not really working.

  “If you’re doing so well, why are you looking for an investor?” Aidan asks by the end in a gruff tone.

  “Mr West,” Abir begins, “I want to bring my costs down. I need a man with connections.”

  “What sort of connections?”

  “I need…well, I need…”

  I watch Abir patiently as he starts to stumble again.

  “Perhaps you want Mr West to open some doors,” I encourage him. “Find a factory you can produce these at a lower cost.”

  “Yes!” Abir says.

  Aidan frowns. “I’m not asking you what Mr Abir wants, Miss Montcalm.”

  “I understand Mr Abir, is all,” I tell him quickly.

  “I don’t care what you understand. Once again, I’m not asking you.”

  “I know.”

  “So be quiet.” Redirecting his gaze to Abir, he asks, “What am I getting out of opening doors for you, Mr Abir?”

  Abir is going to have a nervous breakdown. “Uh…well, you-you get—”<
br />
  “Because that requires a lot of work on my end,” Aidan ruthlessly cuts in, “expending time I simply don’t have in abundance to help you—”

  “But you have plenty of time,” I interrupt, feeling a little frustrated.

  Aidan’s dark eyes flash to mine. He is pissed. “Miss Montcalm, I am not speaking to you—”

  “I know that—”

  “Then it’ll do you well to stop answering on behalf of Abir—”

  “But I know what Abir wants—”

  “Miss Montcalm—”

  “He just wants you!” I say, passionately, my eyes pleading for him to understand as my heart picks up. “He just wants you, Mr West. That’s it. That’s what he’s here for. That was his intention from the start. He gave up everything to come here, carrying the faintest hope in his heart that you would look at him and want him, too.”

  Aidan stares at me, understanding my poorly delivered message. Meanwhile Abir looks confused and a little uncomfortable.

  Aidan clenches his teeth. “That’s all well and good, Miss Montcalm, but Abir’s pitch was filled with lies. He had every opportunity to be truthful with me from the start.”

  “But he didn’t mean to lie. He truly didn’t! He was told to, Mr West. Not that it forgives the lie, per se, but it was never meant to be dishonest or manipulative.”

  “For what purpose was the lie to begin with?”

  “To bring the real you back.”

  “The real me?” he returns sharply, sounding angry. “This is the real me, Miss Montcalm. If you don’t like this form of me, the door is right there—”

  “You’d let me leave?” I suck in a breath.

  He pauses, his face strained. “If that’s what you wanted—”

  “That’s not what you said! If you want me to go, if it’s so easy for you to discard me, then I’m wasting my time here.” I stand up and he throws the pen down.

  “Sit down, Miss Montcalm,” he demands, standing up.

  “No,” I retort as he towers over me. “I’ve been waiting around long enough to know when it’s my turn to get tossed out of here—”

  “Just sit back down—”

  “Should I leave?” Abir cuts in, uncomfortably.

  Aidan doesn’t look away from me. “Wait in the hall, Mr Abir, just while I sort out this little hiccup.”

  “Little hiccup?” I repeat, raising my brows as Abir flees the room and shuts the door. “Like my heart bleeding in front of you is such a small thing—”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “You disappeared on me for five days—”

  “I needed to think—”

  “But you could have gone away after we properly talked to each other first—”

  “I needed to time to get over the fury I felt—am still feeling! You sat under my nose the entire time, playing a part like a character in a play—”

  “There was no malicious intent behind it—”

  “I don’t care why you did it!” he explodes. “It’s my life, Ivy—”

  “You said you wanted to figure out who I was!”

  “Because I thought you were somebody insignificant—”

  “Sorry to disappoint you!”

  He shakes his head furiously. “You should have told me.”

  “I should have,” I agree, “but would that really have made a difference?”

  “How could you think it wouldn’t have—”

  “It’s not like you were letting anyone in—”

  “Because I didn’t want to get manipulated! Because everything I worried would happen did happen with you—”

  “It was different with me!”

  “What was the difference?”

  “I wasn’t using you, Aidan. I wanted you to remember!”

  “I will never remember,” he seethes. “Can’t you see? It’s gone—my memories are gone! You’ve been erased from them!”

  Angry tears prick my eyes. “Don’t say that!”

  “I just did.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  “You romanticized a bullshit outcome, Ivy. This isn’t a movie. You wasted your time—”

  “Then why am I still here?” I throw my arms up in the air.

  “Enough, Ivy. No more.”

  “No, Aidan! I want to know! Why am I here—”

  His jaw ticks. “You are infuriating—”

  But I don’t let up. “Can’t answer the tough questions all of a sudden? Well, they’re not going to stop coming! If I’m wasting my time here, why haven’t you marched me to the door and discarded me—”

  He takes a step forward and smashes his lips against mind mid speech, silencing me. His kiss is hard, angry. He grips my hair with one hand, angling my head up as he deepens the kiss. His other hand is pulling up my skirt, and then he’s grabbing a chunk of my ass, squeezing it to him. I feel his cock hardening through his pants, and I gasp in surprise as he runs a finger between my ass, brushing against my pussy.

  “That’s why,” he growls against my lips, silencing me. “I want you. I fucking crave you. I can’t watch you leave. That’s fucking why.”

  My head is spinning by the time he pulls away and lets me go, taking a step back. I’m wobbly, lips puffy as I stare at him in awe. He’s panting, looking angry when he says, “Turn around, Miss Montcalm, and bend over the desk.”

  My body is pulsing. “Why?”

  “You know why,” he booms impatiently. “Turn around.”

  A bolt of pleasure travels to my sex. I don’t even think about it—where would I even begin? I spin around and press my hands on the desk. He comes to my side, and shoves everything in front of me out of the way. It crashes to the floor, loud and sudden. Then he presses a hand against my spine.

  “All the way,” he orders, voice strained. “I want your cheek against this fucking desk, Miss Montcalm. Got it?”

  I bend over all the way, whispering, “Yes.”

  He grabs my ass suddenly and squeezes. “Yes, what, Ivy? Stop playing about.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  I shut my eyes, aware of how familiar this feels. I feel tears spring to my eyes because I have him for a moment, my Aidan. At least, I think I do. But his touch is different. It’s rougher, lacking all reverence. I’m not sure I’d want to be worshipped right now, either. Emotions are too high—too raw.

  He shoves my underwear aside and runs his touch along my folds, causing me to jolt in shock as he finds my clit and rubs it. I hear him unbuckling his belt with his other hand. His pants come down, his breathing steady now as I hear him stroke himself.

  “Sick of you sitting beside me, Ivy,” he says tightly. “Sick of you running that impertinent mouth, talking back at me, disobeying me. I’m going to fuck that mouth again just to silence it, Miss Montcalm. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, sir,” I breathe out weakly.

  “Sick of wanting back in that tight pussy. Sick of you looking at me like you know me. You don’t. You fucking don’t, Ivy, but I’m going to let you get a taste. I’m going to let you get fucked by this version of me. Do you understand?”

  I shut my eyes, trembling. “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Plead for it. I want to hear you beg. I hear it in my dreams. I call you temptress, did you know that? Did I ever call you that, Miss Montcalm?”

  I suck in a breath, nodding. “Yes, sir, you did.”

  “I can see why.” His sex voice is back and my skin prickles. “Ever since you showed up at my door, you’ve been tempting the fuck out of me. You wear these fucking skirts with your ass hanging out. You swear with that sinful fucking mouth because you know it travels straight to my fucking cock. Isn’t that right, Miss Montcalm?”

  Before I can respond, he spreads my ass apart and runs his cock along my crease. I suck in another breath,
closing my eyes tightly as he teases around my pussy.

  “Please, sir,” I let out, groaning. “Please, fuck me.”

  “You want it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me ‘please, sir, I want your cock inside me.’”

  “Please, sir, I want your cock inside me, please—”

  He pushes inside me hard, splitting me open unexpectedly. I gasp in shock, a shooting pain throbbing between my legs. He fits inside me completely, stretching me, another aching reminder of how big he is.

  He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t allow me to accommodate him. It surprises me how fucking good that feels. He grips my hips, pulls out of me and sinks into me with the same harsh stroke. I let out a rough breath, feeling a sting mixed with pleasure shoot through me.

  “Like that, Ivy? Is that how you want it?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I moan.

  He fucks me like that, moving in and out of me with hard, powerful strokes. My eyes roll to the back of my head because there isn’t a spot he isn’t filling inside me. I press my forehead against the desk as his fingers dig deeper into my hips. I let out a breath, groaning as he hits that button inside me, tiny fireworks bursting everywhere.

  “So good,” he groans, moving in and out of me at a steady pace. “You said you were mine. Is that still right?”

  “Yes, sir,” I moan, distracted by the feeling of him fucking me slowly.

  “Say it to me again.”

  “I’m yours.”

  He grabs my ass and really begins to move now. His breaths pick up as he slams into me. The desk jerks with his movements. My arms stretch out. I grip the edge of the desk and hold on, crying out as he fucks me fast and hard.

  My body aches for him to stay inside me, to fuck me until I’m hurting. I need to know this is really happening. But it is. He hits the end of my channel, causing sparks to fly through me. He doesn’t stop. I’m getting closer to the edge. He moves in and out of me, stretching my ass apart. His thumb presses against my other hole. He pushes his finger in, not deep, just far enough I can feel the pressure of him invading me.

  “You like that?” he groans.

  “Yes,” I whisper, trembling.

  “You want me deeper?”

  My breaths tumble out of me unsteadily. “Yes, sir.”