by Ami Snow
I closed and locked the door behind me, and before I could say or do anything else, Ethan had me pressed up against the door, his hands on my waist as his mouth crashed down on mine again.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I’d never felt so wildly sexual before, never felt this intense need to touch the skin of another person. I ached, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him inside of me, right that second.
He seemed just as urgent. He was hard against my thigh, the heat of him searing through his pants and mine into my flesh as my hands went to his shirt, tugging at buttons, slipping them loose. His hands were sliding under my sweater, and I cursed my practicality, knowing that I was wearing a very comfortable but entirely unsexy flesh-tone bra that I’d bought from a lingerie shop that specialized in bras for women with large busts. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands were hot against my skin, smoothing up my waist and pushing my sweater up as I finished undoing his buttons, sliding his shirt over his shoulders and tossing it to the floor.
We were mad with lust, grabbing kisses in between tugging at articles of clothing. His hands found my bra clasp and made short work of it, throwing the garment aside. He bent his head to my throat, his lips skimming the column of my neck, his teeth setting gently into my collarbone before his hand cupped my breast and his lips found my nipple, sucking it into his mouth as his tongue flicked over it.
I moaned aloud, my back arching, pressing myself into his mouth as my hands skirted over his shoulders, down his back, needing to touch him. I reached for the waistband of his pants, undid the clasp and pushed both pants and boxers down together, my hand wrapping around his stiff, hot shaft.
His groan of pleasure vibrated through my breast, and I pulled away, falling to my knees and grabbing his ass with one hand, pulling him closer as my mouth went to his cock. I’d only done this once before, and I hadn’t really liked it all that much. But something made me want him in my mouth. I slid my lips over the tip, flicked my tongue over it, tasted the salty liquid beading there. He was silky smooth, hard and throbbing between my lips, and the sounds that came from his mouth as his fingers wrapped in my hair sent shocks of pleasure through my body. He tasted good, warm and salty and clean, and I slid my mouth further, taking him deeper, until the tip was lodged in my throat and I had to slide back up, my tongue pressing into the underside of his shaft. I could feel the veins, pulsing against my tongue, and I slid down once more before I heard him groan and felt his hand grip my shoulder.
“For the love of god, Elizabeth, I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
I let him go then, wanting him…needing him to fuck me, and he sank down on the carpet, pressing me back into the floor. He undid my jeans, pushing them down, not even bothering to see what panties I had on before his hands were on my inner thighs, his fingers slipping between them.
I was beginning to believe that Victoria’s Secret was lying about the necessity of lingerie.
He was between my thighs then, his mouth going directly between them, and I realized what he was going to do. My heart pulsed in my throat, and I started to tell him no, that no one had ever done that to me before, and then I felt his tongue slide into the damp, hot place between my legs, and I couldn’t believe I’d never asked anyone to do this to me. I was definitely not a virgin, but it had never occurred to me to suggest to any of the college boys—all of whom requested blowjobs—that they go down on me.
His tongue was hot and pliable, sliding over me in long, slow strokes that made the muscles of my thighs tremble, and then all at once focused on my clit, flicking over it quickly until I felt that I was going to fall apart at any second.
“Tell me when you’re going to come,” he said, his voice deep and thick with desire. “I want to feel you around my cock when you do.”
The sound of his voice uttering those words drove me even closer to the brink, and when he sucked my clit between his lips, his tongue fluttering against me, I cried out: “Now, now, oh god, Ethan!”
He wrapped my legs around his waist and plunged into me, his cock stretching me as his fingers went to work on my clit. One hard thrust and the orgasm washed over me, my back arching and my muscles spasming. I could feel myself clenching around him, grabbing his cock as he buried himself inside of me. His fingers kept working on my clit until I grabbed his wrist and pulled it away, suddenly too sensitive for any touch at all.
He leaned forward then, his lips coming down gently on mine, and his thrusts slowed, suddenly going from hard and urgent to long, slow strokes in and out of me. My exquisitely sensitive flesh seemed to feel every ridge and vein as he thrust, and I arched against him, my breasts pressing into his chest as he kissed me and I moaned into his mouth.
I hadn’t known sex could be this good. My body was thrumming with pleasure, the aftershocks of the orgasm still rolling over my skin as I felt the next one building. The carpet was rough under me, the abrasiveness of it only adding to the overall experience. His hands were on my upper arms, pinning me as he began to move faster, and he groaned against my lips. “I can’t last much longer, Elizabeth. Oh god,” he murmured, and I felt his hips buck and his body stiffen. “Oh, fuck!” he said aloud, and then he began to pound into me, his thrusts hard and fast and he pressed his pelvis down into mine, the bone rubbing against my clit, and suddenly I was coming, and a second later I felt him, hard and hot inside of me, and his face buried in my neck as his hips bucked and he let go of my arms, pressing his hands hard into the carpet on either side of my head.
There were several moments of silence as the pleasure drained out of us, and he lay against me, our skin hot and sweaty. Finally, he rolled away, and I sat up. “Maybe a shower?” I suggested, and he nodded, following me into the bathroom.
I stood with my back to him, waiting for my breathing to return to normal as we stepped into the hot shower, the water sluicing over us both. I could feel it stinging the small abrasions on my shoulders and ass from the carpet, and he slid his hands over my waist. I heard him open the shampoo bottle, and a moment later his fingers were in my wet hair, his hands lathering the soap into my scalp, and I moaned in bliss, leaning back against him as he turned the showerhead and sluiced the water through my hair.
I turned, rubbing soap over his skin as he washed his own hair, feeling the ripples of his muscles under my fingers. It was strangely intimate to be showering with a man that I’d only met a few hours before. I rubbed my hands over his thighs, and his cock began to swell again, thickening as my hand brushed past it.
He did the same to me, rubbing soap over my skin, pausing as his hands went over my breasts, his fingertips skimming my nipples. I took a step towards him and felt his cock brush against my thigh, hard again, and the tip of it poked between my legs, seeking me out.
He leaned down to kiss me, one hand sliding down my hip, reaching under my thigh. I raised my leg up, propping my foot on the small seat in the shower, and he growled low in his throat, grabbing my ass with one hand and his cock with the other, angling it up into me.
I gasped at the sensation of him inside of me again, my sensitive flesh parting for him, and I opened my mouth under his, letting his tongue slide between my lips as his cock thrust into my body. He felt thick and hard, each stroke so pleasurable it was nearly painful. His mouth went to my neck, nipping at the skin, his free hand reaching for my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into my throat, his hips thrusting against me, his cock pulling me closer and closer to another exquisite orgasm. “I can’t stop fucking you,” he groaned, his hips speeding up. “I want to make it last, but I…” he bit out each word at the end, his thrusts speeding up. “I can’t slow down.”
He pulled out then, leaving me aching and empty for a moment as he spun me around to face the wall, his hand on my shoulder as I flattened my palms against the wall of the shower, and his other hand pushed his cock deeply into me from behind.
My fingers curled again
st the tile as he began to fuck me, hard, the hot water pouring down on us both as I arched my back and thrust back against him as well as I could without slipping on the tile floor. I was moaning aloud now, and then he reached around me, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing it firmly as he thrust into me, his lips on my shoulders as he groaned, and I knew he was close. I could feel how hard he was, and I arched my back so that he slid into me as deeply as he could go, and the sounds that spilled from his mouth were immensely satisfying.
I felt the orgasm crash over me a moment before his did, and all I could focus on was not slipping, not falling as my body trembled. I felt his teeth in my shoulder as he came, felt his hips pounding against my ass, and then his body was rigid against mine, curled firmly against my back as I sighed with pleasure.
He slid out of me, his body trembling, and he straightened. “God, Elizabeth,” he muttered.
I was feeling much the same way.
He sighed and leaned back into the water, letting it run through his hair. He did another cursory wash before stepping out, and I did the same. He tossed me a towel, and we dried off in silence. I felt painfully shy all of a sudden, unsure what to say to him. What we’d just done—the urgency and the lust in it—felt strange to me to have had with someone I knew so little about. I felt like I should fall into bed with him, curling myself around him as we fell asleep, but I knew he was going to leave. I knew that he should leave. Nonetheless, I felt strangely bereft by the idea.
He got dressed, reaching for his phone. I knew he was texting Bill to come get him. I felt more than a little awkward as I pulled on the robe I’d brought, not wanting to bother getting dressed again only to go to bed.
I walked him to the door, and he turned to face me. I’d given him my number earlier in the night and he remembered it as he bent to kiss me one more time. It was a chaste kiss in comparison to the others we’d shared that night.
“I’ll call you,” he said. “When I have a chance.”
He was a busy person, I knew that. I was sure he did something very important and high-powered somewhere. I doubted he would actually call me. But part of me wanted him to, very badly.
***
Chapter 4
By 6:30 a.m. on Monday morning, as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror feeling entirely unlike myself, he still hadn’t called.
It felt like a dream. I tried to conjure up the image of us tangled on the same carpet where my new high heels were currently laying, or him bending over me in the shower I had just washed my hair in. It felt unreal.
I’d picked the pencil skirt and a wine-colored silk blouse with the navy blue blazer over it. I had pearl studs in my ears and a gold bracelet that I’d received as a Christmas gift on one wrist, a rose-gold watch on the other. I’d done my makeup conservatively and straightened my hair, and I looked exactly the part of a finance intern. Maybe even better. Maybe someone with an actual job.
I slipped my feet into the high heels and resolved to put Ethan out of my head as I went to work. The night had been fun—more than fun—but I wasn’t here to chase men or have wildly exciting sex. I was here to do well at the internship, impress my bosses, and have a job waiting for me when I graduated in a few months. D.C. was full of men. I needed to focus on my career.
That resolution made, I busied myself looking through my planner and checking my iCalendar as the city whizzed by, feeling very adult and businesslike.
There was an orientation first thing, and I felt slightly less special, sitting alongside Catherine and Billie and approximately twenty other interns. I also felt very intimidated. We were all vying for the same few positions, and whoever got them would be someone who really stood out. I suddenly wasn’t sure if I had what it took for it to be me.
My morning, after the orientation, was full of fetching coffee and making copies. I met some of the other accountants, as well as the vice president of the division in the building, who seemed nice enough. She was younger than I expected, maybe thirty at most, and dressed very stylishly. She was, in short, who I hoped to be. I wondered if I could somehow get her to mentor me. It seemed unlikely.
That day, and the rest of the week flew by. I hardly had time to think about Ethan and the silence of my phone, but Friday night it was all I could think about. It had nearly been a week, and I’d heard nothing. I’ll call you when I get a chance,” he’d promised. I knew he was certainly a busy man. But a whole week without a chance to call for even a few minutes?
I went out for dinner and drinks with Catherine and Billie that night, but my heart wasn’t in it. Tom and Eddie showed up again, but Brian wasn’t there. Apparently he’d found a girl to date, and I felt both happy for him and a little jealous. Not necessarily because I was interested in Brian, but because I had hoped very much that I’d be going on a date this weekend…with Ethan.
I tried to picture us going to the movies or grabbing a burger and beers at a pub. More likely, we’d be dining at a five-star restaurant and going to the theater, and I had to admit that the idea of it made me a little uncomfortable. I knew I couldn’t possibly afford to pay on a date like that, and I didn’t like the inequality of the situation. I liked the even ground we’d been on the weekend before, where I could have paid for my drinks, and we’d both been eager to fall into bed with each other.
Catherine and Billie both noticed my reticence, and they didn’t argue when I opted to stay in Saturday and Sunday. I spent some time reading one of the books I’d picked up on Ashley and I’s shopping excursion, and some time just watching Netflix and catching up on shows that I’d missed in the bustle of the school year. I tried not to think about Ethan. I tried not to check my phone.
By Sunday night, I’d given up. A week was too long to go without calling if he was interested, right? I felt a little let down, but at the same time, I told myself…this meant that nothing could ever go badly. We wouldn’t date…but that meant no losing the spark, no finding out that we had dissimilar interests, no fights, and no breaking up. We would forever just be that one perfect, lustful night straight out of a movie, fucking on my carpet and in the shower. I sighed. I would really have enjoyed getting to do that once or twice more, though.
I got ready for work Monday morning without thinking of Ethan much at all. I wore the gray floaty A-line skirt and a long-sleeved emerald-green blouse with a bit of a v at the neck. I slipped on my high heels and my pearl earrings, swiped on my lipstick, and determined to start off my second week at the firm on the right foot.
To my surprise, I was invited that morning to sit in on a meeting. “You’ve done really well,” the accountant who was overseeing me said. “You show a lot of interest, and I think you would benefit from seeing how these things are run. Sit in the back, and take lots of notes.”
I nodded, and meekly followed her into the room, feeling intimidated and excited all at once. The grouping of people around the table was varied, about half men and half women, most in their thirties and forties. A few were older, and two appeared to be in their mid-twenties.
“As soon as Mr. Sharpe arrives, we can begin,” my boss said, laying her papers down on the table and taking a seat.
The door swung open a few moments later, and I couldn’t help but turn my head to see who came in. I knew Mr. Sharpe was the CEO of the firm, and I expected an aging man, white-haired and respectable, to walk through that door.
The man who entered, shutting it firmly behind him, was tall and handsome and maybe in his late twenties.
“Oh god, Elizabeth, I can’t last much longer.”
“I can’t stop fucking you.”
“I’ll call you when I have a chance.”
The man at the head of the table, Mr. Sharpe, was Ethan. The same Ethan that a week ago had pulled me into his lap in his car, pushed me down onto the carpet and slid his tongue between my legs, bent me over in the shower and fucked me like it was his last night on earth. He scanned the table, as if making sure that everyone was present, and then his eyes landed on me.
I wanted to slide under the table and disappear into the carpet. Instead, I sat upright in my chair at the back of the room, my hands folded. I met his eyes, unblinking, refusing to show the embarrassment I felt right that second.
“Ms. Brooke,” he said, addressing my boss. “Is this one of the new interns?”
My boss nodded. “She’s done quite well her first week. I thought it might benefit her to sit in on a meeting.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Ethan…Mr. Sharpe…said, and turned to the PowerPoint that had come on the projector screen, beginning the meeting.
***
If anyone had asked me what was discussed in the meeting, I couldn’t possibly have recounted it. I sat through it for as long as possible, finally excusing myself as it was wrapping up and rushing to the ladies’ room. My fingers were trembling, and I tried to calm myself by taking long, deep breaths.
It’s going to be okay, I tried to tell myself. He’s not going to say anything. You just have to stay clear of him. He couldn’t possibly come to that many meetings, right? He didn’t call. He’s probably not interested. It was a one-night-stand. Don’t let it affect your job.
My job. That was what was important. Ethan wouldn’t want anyone knowing that he had fucked one of the interns…even if he hadn’t known then that I was interning for his company. And I certainly didn’t want anyone knowing that I had slept with the CEO…it would damage my reputation and I couldn’t have that happen. It was mutually beneficial to us to keep it quiet. So it would stay quiet. I straightened up, and turned to head back to my desk. Everything would be okay. There was nothing to worry about. I kept telling myself this as I headed back, as I sat down, as I opened my email to see what tasks I would need to do that morning.
My boss’s email was the first in the list. Important, was the subject line.
I opened it.
Elizabeth,
Mr. Sharpe wants to see you in his office. I told him you would go there as soon as you were back at your desk. Please let me know how the meeting goes, it’s very unusual for him to meet with interns.