by Aimie Grey
“You want to wipe the counter clean? Reset the three-night limit?” I could definitely go for that. It would give me a little more time to decide on my amendment.
“I want to start over as colleagues, nothing more. I don’t even think we can be friends.”
“I’d be much more likely to believe you if it weren’t for the quiver in your voice and your dilated pupils.” Her barely contained lust was so fucking hot.
As I continued to back her up across the room, I grabbed on to her waist and pulled her slightly closer to me. With each step, her resolve faltered a little more until it was virtually non-existent.
When she couldn’t take another step back, I leaned in and whispered, “You want me to press you up against this thin piece of glass and fuck you until you can’t walk. You want to feel me inside of you again, don’t you?” I was an asshole for exploiting her weakness, but if she honestly didn’t want it, she would have been able to say no. She just wanted an excuse to give in.
With my cheek flush with hers, I felt rather than saw her slight nod. “You’ve gotta say it out loud, baby. I’m not going to let you try to blame this one on a misunderstanding.” Still fully clothed, I lifted her into position and rubbed my cock against her lace-covered pussy. I briefly wondered if she always wore dresses or only when she wanted to give someone easy access. “Tell me you want my cock buried inside of you.”
“Y-yes,” Juli said breathily.
“That’s not going to cut it.” Reaching between us, I slipped my fingers beneath the wet lace and gave her a little extra nudge in the right direction. “Say, ‘Thomas, will you please fuck me?’”
“Fuck me, you fucking asshole!”
“Close enough.” As with the previous two times we were together, I didn’t bother to get undressed. I didn’t have anything to hide—far from it—I just didn’t want to waste time. After grabbing a condom, I tossed my wallet in the direction of my desk. Once my fly was open, I rolled the latex on in one quick stroke of my hand as she adjusted her panties to clear the way for me.
“So fucking good.” I groaned as I sank inside of her. “Why do you fight this?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Your body craves mine, doesn’t it? You’re the one who’s become addicted, and you’ve been dying for another fix since last night.”
“I hate you so much.”
“You may hate me, but you love my dick.”
“N-no.”
“You don’t love it? So you wouldn’t mind if I pulled out?” I slid out of her until only the head of my cock remained inside.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Juli squeezed her deceptively strong legs, shoving me back inside her.
Leaning in close to her ear again, I whispered, “You love not knowing if Steph can hear us, don’t you? Maybe she can see the outline of your ass pressed up against the glass.” Slamming into her harder than before, I continued, “Maybe we’re shaking the whole fucking wall.”
The moan my words drew from her body was nearly enough to throw me over the precipice, but I had to hold on. After her jab at my stamina, she needed to go first, and it needed to happen soon.
“Maybe Stephanie’s pissed because you’re getting my cock and she’s not. Maybe she’s been wanting it for years, and you strut in one day and take what’s hers.”
“Not hers,” she stammered almost incoherently. She was clearly no longer able to form a rational thought, which was the only reason the possessive game we played didn’t freak me the fuck out. Neither of us meant it, but I could use it to prove my point. Julianne Griffith wanted me, and she would no longer be able to deny it.
“Nope. Not hers. Never has been. Never will be.” Rolling my hips, I tried to feel every inch of her pussy with each stroke. Damn, it was good. “Why do you think that is?”
“Not hers,” she repeated.
“Whose is it?” I asked as I snaked my hand between us and flicked the hardware rubbing up against her clit.
“Mine!” she screamed and violently convulsed around my dick.
Not even the Hoover Dam could’ve held back the orgasm erupting from my cock, filling the condom to its maximum capacity.
Yours.
Fuck. Me.
CHAPTER TEN
Juli
There was no denying Thomas Ramsay would be the end of me. Crushing my resolve seemed to be an innate talent of his, and he left me weaker each time. I used to always win the game, but with him, the score was now two-to-one.
“I have to go.” Taking just enough time to make myself presentable, I strutted out of Thomas’s office with my shoulders square in an attempt to conceal my unease. If he could get me to repeatedly break rule number one, what else could he get me to do? There was no way I’d stick around to find out.
What the fuck happened to his rules? Maybe I had it backward. It was far more likely he was the weak one and his mental impotence was rubbing off on me. Most days, my clever choice of words would amuse me, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
Once in the safety of my car, I slid my Burberry sunglasses into place and pressed the button on the steering wheel to activate the Bluetooth connection to my phone. “Call Marina.”
My friend picked up after three rings. “How’d it go?” she asked in place of a standard greeting. I hadn’t spoken to her since before I’d left for the club the night before.
“I need out. Find someone else.”
“Is this about Thomas?”
My silence answered her question on my behalf.
Sighing, she said, “You know I don’t ask you for many personal favors, but I need you. Tate needs you. The kids need you.”
“You know I don’t like kids,” I said with a small laugh in an attempt to divert the conversation.
“That feeble excuse is a load of crap, and you know it. Just because you don’t like being around anyone who isn’t legally old enough to get hammered in this country, doesn’t mean you want them to suffer.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” I whined. “I’ll find a highly qualified replacement and double my personal donation.”
“You’re the toughest person I know, and I can’t imagine someone like Thomas causing you this much distress.” I couldn’t decide if I should take pride in the compliment or be offended by the implication I was weak for letting Thomas get to me, even though I’d had similar thoughts. “Just think about it, please.”
“Why the fuck are you being so stubborn?”
“This will be good for you. I have a feeling you’ll be thanking me one day.”
Not a chance in hell. “Thanking you for what? Making me spend time with someone who wants to…” I had no idea what he wanted to do other than fuck. I just know I didn’t want whatever it was. “I don’t have time to deal with him. If I constantly have to thwart his advances, when will I have time to do my job? What if the distraction throws me off my game?”
“Haven’t we talked about this before? You’re allowed to have a life outside of work. We appreciate everything you do for us, but we don’t want you to miss out on anything.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” Before she had an opportunity to respond, I repeatedly stabbed the button to end the call, breaking a nail in the process.
Before pressing the button to start the engine, a meeting request popped up on my phone. Since the car was still in park, I took a moment to glance at the details.
Finn Ramsay
Strategic Planning-Rescheduled
Wednesday, 4:00 p.m.
Had it come from Thomas or Blondie, I would have declined immediately. Unfortunately, I was still in a bit of a work slump and didn’t have any prior engagements that would have given me a legitimate out. My thumb hovered over the word “Maybe” at the bottom of the screen when a text came through.
Marina: Are you going to accept?
Ugh. Marina, Tate, and I shared our business calendars with each other, and the nosey brat must have decided to poke around. Why did my best f
riend have it out for me?
Me: Shit like this makes me wish I had more clients.
Until I could convince Marina and/or Tate to let me off the hook, I had no choice but to attend. They knew I refuse to fail at anything, and that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I quit without their blessing. Assholes.
Since it was Thursday morning, I had a week to get my shit together. I could either reaffirm my rules or change the game. Having proven he could make my panties drop on demand, I either needed to start wearing pants or take them off on my own terms before Thomas could get close enough to cast his spell.
The only bad thing about being a workaholic was when I couldn’t vent to Marina, I didn’t really have anywhere else to turn since my job didn’t leave time for friends. Tate would listen, but he was almost as mushy as his girlfriend and wouldn’t understand either. If Thomas weren’t my dilemma, he’d be the perfect person to talk to. Gotta love irony.
Me: I also wish I had more friends.
Marina: You know you love us.
Me: I hate you.
Marina: Then go to the meeting and make new friends.
Reluctantly, I tapped “Accept” before starting the engine and shifting into reverse. As I backed out of the parking space, I was alerted to an incoming call. The in-dash display read “Mom” and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to answer or not. Having ignored her last three calls, I figured I’d better see what she wanted before the state troopers came looking for me.
“Hey, Mom, how are you?” I asked, only half-caring about the answer. I loved my mom, but I had a lot of distracting things on my mind I absolutely could not discuss with her.
Instead of answering my generic question, she said, “You’ll never guess what happened,” in a tone that made it clear gossip was imminent.
“What happened?” Might as well humor her. Not like I had anything better to do while I was driving, and hopefully, it would help take my mind off of other shit.
“Uncle Leo was caught with his pants down in the wax museum on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“Was he alone?” That question would determine if my father’s brother was a creepy pervert or awesome.
“No, he was with his blonde of the week.”
So that’s where I get it from, I joked to myself as I gave Uncle Leo a mental high-five followed by a slap on the back of his head. My mother didn’t need to know I’d done the same thing. At least I’d been smart enough not to get caught. “That’s…interesting,” I said, not sure where to go from there.
“I haven’t seen you for a while. I’m making your favorite meatloaf tomorrow night—the one with the bacon wrapped around it.” Yeah, my favorite cause of severe gastrointestinal distress. Not even bacon could save that monstrosity. “There’s a boy at church I think you’ll hit it off with. I’ll invite him over so you can meet him.”
Oh, fuck no. “Listen, Mom, I don’t think I can make it tomorrow night.” She wasn’t one to dig for an explanation. Having known me my entire life, she probably figured it was something she didn’t want to hear.
Apparently, she wasn’t above guilt. “But it’s been so long, and I miss my girl.”
Stopping at a red light, I pounded my forehead against the wheel. Since a meeting with Saul was the only thing left on my schedule before noon, I decided to compromise. “How about I come over for a little while now?” Blowing off my annoying coworker was an added bonus.
“That would be lovely. I’ll go cut up the watermelon I bought at the farmer’s market this morning.”
“Sounds good,” I said, smiling at how she always seemed to have my actual favorites on hand. Although, maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe she knew the threat of meatloaf-induced indigestion and a setup with a church boy, not to mention the strategically placed guilt, would have me rushing over to avoid the proposed hell. If that was her intention, it worked.
Blinker on, I changed lanes so I could get onto the freeway instead of heading to the office. “I’ll be there in forty minutes or so.”
As we said our goodbyes, I merged into the light traffic that would accompany me to Burbank.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Juli
“There’s my girl,” my mom gushed when I emerged from the car. She acted as if she hadn’t seen me in years instead of weeks. Engulfing me in a hug, I wrapped my arms around her long enough for it not to be awkward, but also not awkwardly long.
Growing up, I received hugs from my mother on a regular basis, but after witnessing interactions between my classmates and their parents, ours didn’t seem natural. After a while, I noticed they occurred on a loose schedule and seemed more like a requirement than a sign of affection. I don’t think Mom realized it, though. From what I gathered, she had grown up the same way, which is why she never thought it was strange.
When I was about twenty, we got into an argument about something stupid, and I foolishly pointed it out. Now, it seemed she was trying to make up for lost time. If I had a choice, I’d go back to the perfunctory hugs that accompanied “hello” and “goodbye.”
As expected, I found my father camped out in his chair across from the TV. “Hey, J.J.,” he said as I passed by. My middle name didn’t begin with a “J,” but he’d always called me that anyway. I didn’t mind. Whenever someone asked, I’d jokingly tell them it was a stutter.
“Hey, Dad.” My dad seemed to be content watching his police dramas for hours on end. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I retired as young as they did, so I planned to work until the day I died.
Following Mom into the kitchen, the massive heap of watermelony goodness greeting me made me wonder just how long she expected me to stay.
“So, what have you been up to?” I asked as she scooted the entire platter toward me as I took my usual seat. There was a time I would have attempted to eat every last bite, but that time had passed years ago.
“Not much. Trying out new recipes.”
Before I could make the request, she handed me a salt shaker. As I took a big, unladylike bite, I decided to tell her all about the charity to fill the time until I had to leave for my afternoon meetings.
“Who’s the young man?” the sneaky bitch asked while my mouth was still full.
My eyes jerked away from the melon rind in my hand and widened as I processed her question and then swallowed. “W-what do you mean?” Did I smell like Thomas or look like I’d recently been fucked within an inch of my life?
“Don’t try to hide it, young lady. You know precisely what I mean.”
“I don’t date, Mom.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Maybe if I shocked her enough, she’d let it go. “Your little girl grew up to be a slut.” Not a word I’d usually use to describe myself, but I was going for maximum impact.
“No, she didn’t. My little girl grew up to be a woman who knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to go after it.” As if fearful I’d bite off her fingers, she quickly reached over and snatched a slice of fruit for herself.
“That’s true,” I said proudly. Sitting up a little straighter, I reached for another piece of melon.
“Then what’s the holdup with this boy? Why haven’t you gone after him?”
“What boy?” My mother could frustrate me like no other.
“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“What makes you—” Fuck. “Marina called you, didn’t she?”
“No comment. I’m not as prudish as you seem to think I am, you know. You can talk to me about these things.” We were about to find out whether or not she was right.
“You really want to know?” I asked, giving her one last out. She quickly nodded, so I gave her what she asked for. “I’ve slept with him on three separate occasions when my limit is one. That’s all.”
“Do you want to do him again?” she asked casually.
Kill me now. Had she forgotten she was my mother? “He’s good at it,” was my non-answer. “Even
if I wanted a boyfriend, which I absolutely do not, he’s not interested either.”
“Sounds like a perfect match,” she mused. “Neither of you want more than what you’ve been doing. If he’s offering something you want, why not take it?”
“Why is everyone shoving me toward him? I don’t need a relationship. It hasn’t exactly worked out well for you.” Cringing at my outburst, I added, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re absolutely right. There’s no reason you should want what I have.”
“I only remember seeing you and Dad kiss once, and it was the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever witnessed. It looked like some sort of punishment. You don’t hug, you don’t hold hands. You barely ever touch, and when you do, it’s accidental.”
“Parents always want more for their children than they had themselves. We were fortunate enough to be well off financially, but I missed out on love. Your father did too. We love you with all of our hearts, but Dad and I have always been more like good friends.”
“Maybe you misunderstood; hell, I’m confusing myself. I don’t want any of those things. Unless we’re naked, or on our way there, I don’t want someone to hold my hand, or hug me, or kiss me, or touch me in any non-platonic way. I think what you have is fine, for the most part, but I can have all of those things without being stuck with the same person. I never have to worry about someone wanting things I don’t, I can fuck on my own timetable, and I don’t have to deal with anyone else’s needs or wants.”
I took a breath, hoping my mom would understand the things that were hard for most people to grasp.
“Maybe you don’t want any of that stuff because you don’t know how good it could be?” she asked. “If I could go back, I wouldn’t change the events that brought me you, but I’d do a few things differently. I definitely would have tried to set a better example for you.”
Objectively, I knew people could be happy together. I had a prime example around me all the time. It just wasn’t something I wanted for myself. “Then why stay together? If you want love so much, why not divorce and go look for it?”