“Stop it,” I whisper to myself. “You don’t even like that weird spanking stuff.”
At least I don’t think I do.
When I get home, I bang through the front door and drop my backpack next to the long row of shoes and skates in the hallway — rollerblading is kind of a big thing in our apartment. The smell of onions sautéing fills the entire place, and I immediately cross the living room to open up a window.
“You’re gonna kill someone,” I say over my shoulder to Crystal, who’s standing in the kitchen stirring something on the stove. The main area is an open space, with the living room bleeding into the kitchen. There’s a mess of pots, plastic wrap and onion peelings strewn all over the counter. Her waist length, blonde hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing her usual apartment outfit of yoga pants and a tank top.
“I’ve got a date coming over,” she says, winking at me.
“Ooh la la. Who is it this time? The guy you met at Target?” I walk into the kitchen and take a peek at her veggie stir-fry before opening the fridge and grabbing a beer.
“Nope. Turns out Target Man is married.”
I spin around from the fridge and look at her. “What? Damn.”
“I know. But at least, I found out from him, and not his wife.”
“You’re gonna have to tell me the whole story.”
“I will, but not right now.” She grins at me. “I’m too excited about Joleen coming over. I met her at Runyon when I was pretending to work out. She’s got abs of steel.” She starts dicing pepper, then abruptly turns around to squeal at me. “Oh my God, how was your first day?”
I lean against the counter and pop the beer bottle’s top. “Don’t get too excited. My career in film is as good as over. Wait till you hear this.”
“Hear what?” a voice asks as Eryk, our other roommate, walks into the kitchen. His messy blond hair is slightly darker than Crystal’s, making me the only brunette in the apartment. He’s also inarguably handsome, but the real untypical thing about him is his height — several inches above six feet. At this moment, he’s even taller than usual, towering over us like a literal giant.
“Um, why are you wearing heels?” I ask, momentarily distracted by the six-inch stilettos he’s teetering on. The top of his head is nearly brushing the ceiling.
“Because I’m doing my first night of drag next month, and I have to practice walking like a queen to own it like a queen. What do you think?”
“You look like a five-minute old giraffe,” Crystal offers.
“Haha,” Eryk dryly snaps at her before turning to me. “What’s your story? Spill.”
I take a big swig of beer. “Okay, well, first of all, the head of Mulroney Pictures? As in, the man who is my new boss? Hot. Like, melt your panties off with a look hot.”
“Yesss,” both my roommates say at the same time.
I hold my finger up to signal for them to wait for the best part. “But I almost ran into him with my car. Then I walked in on him spanking some lady that was bent over his desk.”
Crystal shrieks and covers her mouth with her hands.
“You naughty girl!” Eryk croons as he playfully slaps my shoulder. “So what did you do? Ask to join?”
“What? Oh my God, Eryk, you’re not serious, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
“I think he is,” Crystal giggles, moving back to the stove to turn the heat down.
“No, I did not ask to join. But what am I going to do? I’m totally going to get fired.”
“Nuh-uh.” Eryk shakes his head. “He’s not going to fire you.”
I tilt my head back to look up at him. “Why not?”
“Because now you’ve got the power, girl. You walked in on him doing the naughty-naughty. If he fires you, he risks you running around town and talking about what you saw.”
I bite my lip and take a moment to think about this. It does make sense, after all…
“Okay, well… should I apologize for walking in on him?”
“Apologize for what?” he asks, baring his teeth at me. “You’re not getting my point.”
I sigh, finally conceding. “Okay, I’m just going to forget about it.”
“Or don’t,” he grins, the dimples in his cheeks popping out. “If he’s as hot as you say, it sounds like you’ve got a memory to cherish till the end of time.”
My stomach jumps at his words and I take another drink, trying to cool down the rush of fire that’s suddenly coursing through my body.
“I want to see his picture,” Eryk says. “Do you think he’s on Facebook?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm,” Crystal says from the stove. “Isn’t Facebook bourgeois?”
Eryk peers at her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the man is, like, a CEO, right? If he were on Facebook, women would be hitting him up nonstop.”
“Maybe that’s where he found the woman in his office,” I say.
Eryk scrolls rapidly through his phone. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Forbes says he made about forty million last year.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “And here I am barely making enough to pay off my student loans.”
“Or even buy Ramen with,” Eryk adds.
“Ha ha,” I dryly say. “I can afford Ramen, thank you very much.” I take another drink of beer and turn for my bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Eryk asks and I hear the clop clop of shoes behind me.
“My room.”
“Have fun masturbating.”
I flip him the bird and keep walking.
CHAPTER TWO
I’m sitting in the corner of the office finishing up the filing from the day before when there’s a buzz from Dana’s desk and Mr. Mulroney’s voice comes over the line.
“Send the new girl in.”
I freeze, my hands glued to the papers in front of me.
“You heard him,” Dana says, not looking up from where she’s busily typing on her computer. She knows nothing about what happened the other day when I walked in on Mr. Mulroney and his, uh, lady friend, and I don’t intend to tell her.
Slowly, I stand up. My right leg is asleep and there’s a massive sore spot in my neck from bending to inspect the tiny type on the papers. Still, I’d rather sit in the corner and sort boring-ass documents for another twelve hours than go into that room, because to do the latter is to walk straight into the lion’s den.
The door creaks ominously as I slowly push it open. He’s standing, facing the window, his back to me, and a tingle — from fear? anticipation? — goes down my back. He knows I’m in the room. He’s got to. He doesn’t turn around though. He keeps facing the window, his hands in his pockets, the same as when I walked in his office for the first time the day before. The view through the glass isn’t any better than the one in the outer office, so I don’t know exactly what he’s looking at. There’s nothing but a wall and a golf cart puttering by.
The whole thing is rather dramatic, but perhaps that’s the point.
I hover by the door, one palm on the handle.
“Come in,” he finally says in a voice that’s smoother and deeper than I remember.
I shut the door but don’t enter the room more than a step. Finally, he turns around. I have to force myself to maintain my balance as he takes me in, his eyes traveling up and down my body much as they did the day before. I shouldn’t allow a man to look at me that way, I know it, especially when that man is my boss. But God, I can’t help but like it. I swear I can literally feel his gaze on my body, his eyes gently grazing my skin as they travel up my waist and across my face.
“What do you think of what you saw yesterday?” he asks, staring straight into my eyes.
I force myself to not glance away. What is he looking for here? Weakness? If that’s the case, he’s not going to find it.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice coming out surprisingly strong. I’ll have to
remember to give myself a pat on the back later for maintaining such good composure.
I’ve decided to drop Eryk’s advice to get the most out of having something juicy on my boss, and just play dumb, acting like I saw and heard nothing. Perhaps that tactic will not only preserve my job but a bit of both mine and Mr. Mulroney’s pride.
He lightly smirks. “Did you like it?”
I blink heavily. The room seems to be slightly spinning, and I’m not really sure if I’ve heard him correctly or not.
“Did you like it?” he repeats when I don’t answer.
Good God, he’s flat out hitting on me.
I have to admit; it feels kind of good. I wasn’t exactly Miss Popular in high school, and I had the same boyfriend not only for most of those years but for half of college as well. My style is pretty minimal. I hardly ever wear makeup or do anything to my hair other than run a brush through it. In other words, I’m plain. As the bitch at the front desk made perfectly clear yesterday.
Having the attention of someone as attractive as the man in front of me makes me feel almost… giddy.
The bubble pops a second later when I remember that the man is my boss.
Even though I did like it, no way in hell will I ever admit it. For all I know, he could be baiting me; trying to get me back for almost hitting him with my car. If I fall for his advances, he could accuse me of being inappropriate and have every right to show me the door.
I may be easily distracted by dimples and nice teeth, but I’m not stupid.
“No,” I respond simply.
“You’re lying.”
I want to laugh out loud. Not because this man is reading me fairly well, but because this whole conversation is unbelievably pompous.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I respond. “It’s none of my business.”
“I think you’re missing my point.”
His words cause my heart to quicken, and when he takes a slow step towards me, my pulse doubles. He continues to move slowly forward, never taking his eyes off me. He stops a foot away, so close I can feel the heat coming off of him. Cedar and the faintest whiff of leather float towards me, and I have to look up slightly to meet his eyes.
“What happens in your personal life is none of my business,” I press.
He bites his lower lip ever so slightly, and I can’t stop myself from swallowing hard. I know he can probably read the lust that’s written all over me. Heck, my pupils are no doubt dilating at the speed of light. I’ll never admit to it though. Not in a million years. This guy is used to power, used to getting his way, and that really irks me. I don’t like men like that. Men who think they can just take whatever they happen to see and like.
“It can be your business.”
And suddenly that’s it. He truly is hitting on me, but I’m no longer flattered the slightest bit. I’ve had enough of the one-liners that he’s spewing in — I’m pretty sure — an attempt to seduce me and make me one of the many girls he probably keeps on call. I cross my arms and stare him down. There’s soft blond stubble growing on his jaw, and a slight cleft in the middle of his chin that I hadn’t noticed before. I hold my ground, my eyes locked onto his.
“I’m here to work. That’s all,” I say. “No disrespect, Mr. Mulroney, but I don’t like to combine my personal life with my work.”
He pauses, slightly pursing his lips, and he seems to be thinking over what I’ve just said. Finally, he slowly nods. “I’m always here in case you’re interested.”
Yes, I’m fucking interested! My vagina screams. My lady parts are clawing at the zipper in my jeans like a monster trying to break free. An image flashes across my mind… me stretched out across his desk, my shirt pushed up, my pants on the floor, and his face burrowed between my legs.
He might be a player, but I’m willing to bet he knows his way around a woman’s body. A man as handsome as him is usually blessed with experience. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve only been with a few men, and none of them were even close to being on the same floor as Mr. Mulroney when it comes to the looks department.
And it’s been a while — over six months — since someone has explored my own curves and crevices.
“Thank you,” I say, unfolding my arms and giving him a nod. Thanking him kind of feels like a sign of weakness. I really don’t want to express gratitude that I don’t have. I need a transition out of this conversation though. I nod again. “I should get back to work.”
He takes a step back, finally looking away from me. When he speaks again, his voice is sharp. “You do that.”
Asshole, I want to say. Just because I didn’t accept his advances, he’s going to turn into a class-A jerk. Then again, what can I really expect? I turn around and leave the room, but I already know it’s going to be almost impossible to get any real work done.
*
“Don’t stop,” I moan, my fingers winding through his hair. In response, Mr. Mulroney picks up the pace, driving into me with swift, upward strokes.
I moan, then close my mouth on his neck. Sweat slips onto my tongue, salty and sweet at the same time.
“Sydney,” he gasps, and the sound of my name on his lips sends a tremor through my body that has nothing to do with my impending orgasm.
His bare skin slaps against mine and I feel the sheets underneath my body rumpling up. With each stroke, the pleasure in me builds, more and more, until I think I’ll surely explode.
And then I’m staring at the ceiling. It’s daylight and I’m alone in my room.
“Jesus,” I mutter, pressing my palms against my face. The dream felt so real. My legs are shaking, and there’s a harsh drumming between my thighs. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so turned on. And over what? A dream about my douche bag boss, that’s what.
“Don’t stop on account of me,” someone says.
I whip my hands off my face to see Eryk standing in my doorway. He has the stilettos on again and he has to squat as he shimmies his way into my room.
“Eryk! What the hell are you doing there?”
“Listening to you have a wet dream, apparently. And it’s not my fault if you don’t close your door before you go to sleep at night. What if a rapist breaks in?”
“What?” I mutter.
“What if a rapist were to break in?” he repeats, biting his thumb. “You should close and lock your door.”
I squint at him, thinking if I can see him better, his words will make more sense. “Is that what you do?”
“Yes.”
“What if this rapist gets in through your bedroom?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Why do you think I put my wardrobe in front of the window?”
I rub my eyes, wondering where all the rape talk is coming from. “No one’s going to rape you, Eryk. You look like a Viking. They’d be too afraid of getting stabbed by your sword.”
His face brightens. “That’s not usually what the boys call it, but I like that nickname. I think I’ll go with it.”
I groan and roll over to close my eyes and hug my body pillow close. I just want to go back to sleep. Go back to that place where Mr. Mulroney’s fingers were tracing their way along my hips and his mouth was finding its way to my breasts…
I snap my eyes open. Wait. Hold on. No, that is not what I want to be doing.
The bed sinks as Eryk sits down on it. “So did you bang him yet?”
I roll back over. “Cut it out. What do you think?”
He kicks the heels off. “Why not? Hasn’t it been, like, a million years since you’ve had sex?”
“Since when is six months a million years?”
“When you’re twenty-two it is.”
Hm. I can’t say I really disagree with that.
“Are you going to invite your new friends at work to my show?” he asks, referring to his first-ever drag show at Micky’s West Hollywood, a nightclub not far from us.
“I don’t really have friends there yet, but yeah, I’ll invite them. Will you get out of my room now so I can get d
ressed?”
“Psst. Trust me, I am not interested in seeing your titties.”
“Still. Out. Goodbye.”
“Fine, fine.” He puts the heels back on and stands up, nearly falling back onto the bed as he does so. “I’ll leave you to masturbate while you think about your boss.”
“Goodbye, Eryk.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him.
For a moment I lay still, staring at the wall. I think of my vibrator, tucked away in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. It’s been weeks since I’ve taken it out. I bite my lip, considering…
“No,” I say out loud. “Wrong, Sydney. Wrong, wrong.”
With a groan, I peek at the bedside clock, then throw the sheets off and roll out of bed. Crystal’s already left for her job at the rec center, which means I might actually be able to snag the bathroom for a shower. All three of our bedrooms are off the main hallway, but you have to walk across the living room to get to the one bathroom. It can be a pain — especially if you have to take a pee in the middle of the night while one of your roommates is on the couch making out with a date.
Eryk sits curled up on the couch eating cereal and watching a morning talk show. I book it into the bathroom and shower as quickly as possible, thinking I might be able to get to work early.
Now that Mr. Mulroney hasn’t fired me, I’m going to do everything in my power to prove to him that I belong at the office. It’s not ass kissing. In fact, I like to think of it as ass kicking. I’m more than another throw-away assistant.
To save time, I leave my wet hair to dry in the car. Hopping back into my room, I get dressed in leggings and the long green button-up Crystal gave me for Christmas. Eryk’s still on the couch, channel surfing. Working at a restaurant, he runs on a late night schedule.
“Bye.” I wave at him and snatch up my backpack.
His fingers flutter back at me. “Have fun.”
I shoot him a look. “Eryk. Stop.”
He still stares at the television. “I mean it. Geez. What, you never have fun at work?”
I roll my eyes. “Lock the door after me. We don’t want you getting raped.”
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 27