by B. B. Hamel
My head whips back to Mitchell. “What’s that?”
“Conference,” Aaron fills me in before Mitchell can speak. “North American Solar Expo, one of the biggest. I go every year, but this time around we want to bring a techie person to help out.”
My eyes go a little wide. “And I’m the techie person?” I ask, still directing myself to Mitchell.
He smiles apologetically. “Honestly, Riley, since you have the least seniority, you’re stuck with him.” Mitchell pats Aaron on the back and the two guys grin at each other like lovers. “You’ll be in good hands, don’t worry.”
“It’s only for a weekend,” Aaron adds. “Think you can make it work?”
I look between the two guys, both of them grinning at me, and I know I have no other choice. They’re practically lighting each other’s cigars right now, and I know they don’t want to hear any complaints out of me.
I’ve been at Sunrise Limited for just about a month, and I’m the youngest engineer on staff. They poached me right out of undergrad, offered me a ludicrous salary in exchange for some of the ideas I’ve been floating around online about solar panel storage and efficiency. I know solar panels aren’t exactly sexy or exciting, but I think they’re incredible and have the potential to change our world for the better. All I have to do is figure out how to make them cost effective and strong enough, which shouldn’t be so hard. But even if I do have some novel, important designs, I’m still the newbie, and I’d better play ball if I want to advance in this world.
I thought I’d be behind a desk or in the lab, but apparently I was wrong. Apparently, I’m going to be stuck at some stupid conference with Aaron and his smug, stupid grin and his attractive suits and his muscles. It’s just about the last thing in the world I want.
“I can make it work,” I say.
“Great!” Aaron gives me a huge smile. “We’ll have lots of fun, I promise.”
I smile back and nod as Mitchell refers me to someone in HR for the details, but all I can think about is having fun with Aaron.
Turns out, there are a lot of people in the solar panel business.
The hotel is packed with them. Aaron seems to know everyone, so I follow him around like a stupid puppy as he shakes hands, grinning the whole time. He introduces me as the “young and brilliant engineer” every time, which makes me blush at first, but just gets annoying as the hours wear on.
“What am I doing here anyway?” I ask him after maybe the fiftieth old guy calls me ‘sweetie.’
“You’re here to represent Sunrise,” he says, giving me a grin.
“Yeah, I get that, but you’re doing all the talking. Why am I even here? You don’t need me.”
He hesitates a second and sighs. “You’re the young face,” he says. “Look, let’s be real for a second. There aren’t a lot of female engineers, let alone ones your age. I don’t need you to say anything, because you’re already impressive.”
I blink for a second before glaring at him. “So I’m your token girl, huh?”
“Pretty much.” He grins at me and shrugs. “Lighten up, Riley. Who cares? We’re just here to sell solar panels.”
“I care,” I say. “I’m not some show pony. I don’t want to trot around on command, you know.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re not a pony? Strange, all I’ve been thinking about all day is riding you until you’re panting and sweating.”
Without another word he strides off toward another booth, already greeting some overweight guy with graying hair, and I’m left there to gape after him.
Did he just say what I think he said? I mean, that’s so totally inappropriate, it’s insane. And yet here I am, standing in a busy hotel conference hall, imagining what it would be like if Aaron fucked me until I was left dripping sweat and groaning his name.
I shake my head, getting that image out of my mind. That slimy bastard wants me to think about that, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.
For the rest of the day, we go from booth to booth and talk to people. Sometimes they ask me questions, and I do my best to dumb it down for them without giving away any trade secrets. Mostly the men just ignore me, though, and my annoyance grows hour after hour as Aaron keeps on shaking hands, making small talk, laughing at bad jokes, and charming everyone in spitting distance.
He’s a glorified salesman, I realize as we finally break for dinner. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Maybe it’s the title, or maybe it’s the way he acts like he owns everything around him. We go to the hotel bar and squeeze into the last two stools available, the space already starting to fill with panel people.
“Having fun so far?” he asks me after ordering us both drinks.
“Not really,” I say, trying not to sound too grumpy and failing miserably. I’ve been such a downer lately, but this is so far outside of my comfort zone that it’s really hard to stay positive.
He laughs a little as two glasses of whisky arrive. I pick mine up, skeptical, but I follow his lead and take a sip. I’m surprised when it’s not totally awful, smoky and with a strange, earthy aftertaste. It’s warm on the way down and stays warm in my belly, but it’s a nice warmth, not at all biting.
“I can’t blame you,” he says. “And for the record, the whole ‘token girl’ thing wasn’t my idea.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Mitchell?”
He nods. “Yep. He’s pretty old school when it comes to business.”
“Meaning, he’s not afraid to use my gender for his own benefit.”
Aaron grins at me. “Bingo. Look, you’re doing great.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I can tell I’m borderline whiney, and probably shouldn’t drink, but I knock it back anyway. “I mean, I’m just standing around and smiling while you do your best to make everyone like you.”
“Mostly, yeah,” he admits. “But you did impress me back there at least a few times.”
I hesitate. I shouldn’t be so excited, and I shouldn’t care if he’s impressed. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirms. “When that guy from Miller and Sons asked about how you’re solving the storage problem, you gave a really impressive answer.”
I cock my head at him. I have this strange feeling in my chest and I can’t decide if it’s alcohol or just the way I feel when I’m around this man. “I just told him what I’m thinking.”
“But you did it without making him feel stupid.” He leans toward me, eyes locked on mine, and I can feel my pulse starting to pick up. “There are a lot of smart people in this business, Riley, but most of them need a guy like me.”
“An asshole?” I ask, surprised to hear that coming out of my mouth.
He just smirks at me, one eyebrow perfectly quirked above his deep, gorgeous eyes. “Yeah, exactly. A talker, someone who can explain things, make them understand.”
“You think I don’t?”
“No, you still need me,” he says slowly. “You know, to polish up the rough edges.”
“I don’t have rough edges,” I grumble over the noise of a drunken woman two seats to my right laughing louder than strictly necessary.
He ignores my comment. “But you’re much, much better than any other engineer I’ve met. I actually find myself wishing they’d ask you more questions instead of hoping you won’t say anything.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or annoyed.”
“Be both.” He finishes his drink before ordering another.
I want to ask what he means, but he’s already turning away and talking with the guy next to him, this thin man with an absurdly thick mustache. I pull into myself, trying to figure Aaron out, and totally failing. He goes from insulting me to telling me how well I’m doing to ignoring me completely, and it’s like a roller coaster ride. I should hate it, but for some reason it’s leaving me hooked and excited. I want to lean toward him across the bar, touch his muscular arm, smile and laugh at his stupid jokes, even though that’s not me at all. Maybe it’s just this envi
ronment, but I want to flirt with him.
I shouldn’t feel so proud that he just complimented me. His opinion shouldn’t matter at all, and I hate myself for flushing every time he’s around and getting excited for any little smile. I’m not some puppy dog hanging on this guy’s heels. He’s not the cool guy I used to have a crush on anymore. He’s just some glorified salesman. I need to keep reminding myself of that. I’m an accomplished engineer, and he’s a guy selling what I build.
A glorified salesman with a suit that fits him like a glove and the deepest, greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.
I nurse my second drink while he chats up the people around him. At one point he turns to me with a little knowing smile and winks, which makes me want to puke in my own mouth. Instead, I just smile back like a moron and pretend like I understand what’s going on, when I couldn’t really care less. I just want to get through this whole experience without making an ass of myself at this point.
I start on my third drink as the night wears down. People start to filter out of the bar, and Aaron turns toward me, stifling a yawn. His big hand rests on the bar and he rolls his shoulders, head cocked in my direction.
“So, what did you think of your first day?” he asks.
“Boring,” I say. “This isn’t my thing.”
“I know, you’ve been making that clear.”
I sip my drink, avoiding eye contact. I have to stop being such a bitch. “We can’t all be gifted salesmen like you.”
He chuckles a little bit and leans back in his chair to look at me. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Like what? I just said it’s boring.
“Not the conference. This.” He gestures at me, waving in the air between us. “Your whole, ‘fuck everything’ attitude, our little interplay. You have fun with it, right?”
I glare at him. “I don’t have an attitude. And we definitely don’t have any interplay.”
“Oh, you absolutely do. I mean, I thought you were just a moody kid when we were younger, but maybe I was wrong.”
“You dick,” I say. “I wasn’t moody. I was a teenage girl.”
“I knew lots of teenage girls that were happier than you.”
“I was perfectly happy!”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” I want to argue, but he talks over me. “The thing is, all this crap is the reason you can do what you do. It just makes practical sense to try and give a shit about it.”
I glare at him for a second, but I realize that he has a point. I hate to admit it, but maybe he does know what he’s talking about. We’re here to do a job, and maybe I haven’t been the best about it. Time for me to sack up and make the best of this.
“Fine,” I say grudgingly. “I can try harder tomorrow. But we don’t have any interplay. Whatever that is.”
He smirks at me, leaning closer, eyebrows raised. “We absolutely do. It’s what I like about you, though.”
“What you… like?” I blink at him, taken off guard. I grip my glass harder, the condensation dripping down my fingers.
“I haven’t forgotten you, you know,” he says softly. “I pretended not to recognize you, but I remembered the second I laid eyes on you. The hot younger sister of my best friend, the girl that was always off limits. Your bad attitude is part of what makes me want to fuck you so badly.”
I outright stare at him now in complete shock. I can’t believe he’s saying all of this to me, but more than that, I can’t believe he thinks I’m hot.
It’s pathetic, I know. He just told me he wants to fuck me, which is like borderline workplace harassment or some crap like that, but all I can think about is that he thinks I’m pretty. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t help myself. I’ve had a crush on this guy for years, and now suddenly he’s coming on to me, and I don’t know what to do.
He smiles again, cocking his head. “You think I don’t know?” he asks insistently. “You used to stare at me when we were younger.” He arches an eyebrow, daring me to disagree, but I stay silent. “And now you can barely keep your hands to yourself. Isn’t that true?”
I open my mouth, close it, open my mouth, close it, and finally work up the nerve to respond. “What do you want?” I ask him, like a moron.
I know what he wants. His expression tells me everything. He wants me to take off my clothes, get down on my knees, and suck his cock until he’s ready to fuck me into a coma. And frankly, that doesn’t sound so bad.
“I want you to come back to my room with me and let me do what I’ve always wanted to do to you.”
I’m dripping wet. I hate myself for it, I really, truly do, but there it is. My heart’s racing, my nipples are hard, and my eyes are wide. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused in my entire life, not to mention this nervous, and I don’t know what to do. I think I might faint or vomit or run away, or maybe all three, which would be pretty awkward.
But I don’t have to do anything. He reaches out and takes my hand. He stands and walks toward the elevator, pulling me along behind him. I stumble along, wishing I had finished that last drink as I realize I’m not nearly drunk enough to be making this mistake. Soon though, after a quiet elevator ride where he stands close to me, his hand gripping mine, I find myself outside of his door as he glances back, a smirk on his lips, and I know I’m going inside. I know it’s happening for real. I follow him like a robot, but quickly all my stiffness melts away as he turns and pins me back against the door, his lips against my neck, his breath warm against my cheek.
“Tell me you’ve been picturing this for as long as I have,” he breathes into my ear, his hands on my hips, his body crushing mine.
“I have,” I admit, and when he kisses me, it’s even better than I pictured.
He tastes like grass and rain and whisky. I pull him closer, needing to feel him tight against my body, not sure if any of this is real at all. But it must be real, because he’s kissing my neck and pulling off my blouse, and I’m fumbling at his belt before he turns and walks me into the room. He pushes me down onto the bed and drops to his knees in front of me, tugging off my jeans with a grin that drives me wild.
His tongue between my legs feels like something I’ve never experienced. I’ve had guys go down on me before, but that’s usually just inept, awkward fumbling before we get to the good stuff. This, though, this is something else. It’s tongue and teeth and lips all working my clit, and I feel him slip fingers inside my pussy, fucking me as he licks and sucks, driving me wild. I writhe my hips and press his mouth tighter against me, needing to feel it all so badly I can barely breathe.
I grip the scratchy hotel sheets tight as his tongue slides inside of me, moving in circles and making waves of pleasure run down my spine. He moves back suddenly, smirking at my moans, and slowly unbuttons his shirt.
“I can be very patient,” he says softly while I watch him, my chest rising and falling rapidly, “but right now I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
He finishes taking off his shirt and stands. I sit up on the edge of the bed and pull down his pants. When he’s just in his boxer briefs, I unhook my bra and let it slide off. He makes a little groan that drives me crazy as he cups my breasts. I tug his briefs down and off, surprised by the size of his cock. He’s thick and long, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cock like it before.
He smirks, taking the base of him in his hand. I look up, hands on his thighs, before I slowly lean forward and take him into my mouth.
His groan makes me suck him harder and faster. I love his taste, a little precum on my tongue, as I bob up and down faster. I take as much of him into my mouth as I can, but he can hardly fit halfway. I want to feel him in my throat as I push deeper and deeper, his hands lacing into my hair, his grunts of pleasure making me even more excited.
“Fuck, girl,” he says, pulling me back. I gasp, a string of spit connecting my lips to the tip of his dick. “You’re fucking incredible.”
He pulls me up and pushes me down onto the bed, spreading my legs. I look o
ver my shoulder at him as he grabs my hips and pulls me closer. My pussy’s aching, throbbing with desire for him.
“Hold on,” he says, reaching for his pants. “I have a condom.”
“Wait,” I moan. “Please. You don’t have to.”
He stops, eyebrows arched. “Better safe than sorry.”
“I can’t get pregnant,” I blurt out. “I have this, this, uh, this thing. It’s not a big deal. I just can’t get pregnant.”
He stares at me for another second before pulling me close again. I feel his cock tease me for a second before he plunges himself inside of me, his bare cock spreading me wide open as he fills me to the brim.
I moan and shudder. He pulls me against him, hands on my breasts, kissing me over my shoulder. Slowly we start to grind together, his cock fucking me tight and deep, pleasure wracking my body.
He takes me like that, fucking me from behind slowly at first before moving faster and faster. He slaps my ass, pulls me hair, makes me come once before turning me onto my back and fucking me again. I look into his eyes, moaning his name, sweating and writhing and twisting my hips under him as his cock slams into me, and I come for a second time, just as he grunts his own orgasm.
I feel him fill me, his cum warm and deep. I groan and kiss him slow for what feels like a long time. I don’t want it to end, but eventually we shower together, and I head back to my own room.
It feels like a dream. I can’t believe I let Aaron Ward fuck me, that cocky asshole salesman, but holy shit. It was the best sex of my life by far, by a freaking huge margin. Things are a little awkward at first the next day, but he cracks a joke and the tension eases, and soon we’re back to work like nothing happened between us.
I can’t stop thinking about it. For weeks afterward, it’s all I can do to stop myself from jumping him. I don’t see him that much around the office, but when I do, he always comes by and we chat for a little while, catching up.
I stare at his lips. I can picture them between my thighs, making me feel incredible.
At night, I think about him, but this time I have a better frame of reference. This time, the feeling of his huge cock stretching me out is fresh in my mind, and as I wrap my legs around a pillow and gyrate my hips, I pretend that I’m humping his thick shaft.