by Lexi Larue
Barely able to keep my eyes open, I lay down on the couch and dozed off. When I woke up, it was 7:15, and acting on impulse, I got up and ran to the bathroom to get ready. Jackson had come to me in my dream, and it was even better than the bookstore bathroom. He was sweet and gentle in his caresses, promising to cherish and take care of me forever. But it was only a dream.
While I was changing into a black wrap dress with tiny polka dots, and slipping a black lace thong underneath it, I was imagining him discovering how little I had on. I thought about him letting out a small growl in my ear as his hand found my bare thigh under the table. I could already feel wetness pooling between my legs just from the thought of his sexy voice.
I had to force myself back into reality as I applied some black eye liner, creating sexy, smoky eyes. I added a few curls to my long hair, making sexy waves fall down back. If I was going to tell Jackson Harter that we had to end this tonight, I was going to look damn good doing it.
I finished off my look with a pair of red stilettos and a black sweater. I threw the necessities into a little black clutch and headed out the door at 7:45. I barely made it down the stairs in my sky-high heels, and when I walked out of the lobby, I prepared to treat myself to a cab. There was a black car I didn't recognize parked in front of the building, and I was surprised when a man called my name.
"Ms. James?"
"Yes?"
"I was asked by Mr. Harter to wait here to see if you came down, and if you did, to give you a ride to Antonia's for your date." I hesitated before stepping any closer. All of the alarms from the past were going off in my head. I should never accept a ride in a car from someone I didn't know. He did say he was here on behalf of Jackson, but I still didn't trust him.
"Can I ask for your name and some identification please?" The driver was an older man, probably in his late 40s or early 50s. He didn't look threatening, and he seemed a bit amused by my request.
"Of course, Ms. James. I should only hope that my daughters will be as street smart as you and not just get in the car with some random man." He handed me an Illinois driver's license and a Harter Communications ID. His name was George Gibson, he was 49 years old, and he was indeed one of Jackson's employees, just like me.
"I'm sorry to be so demanding. I just don't trust anyone but myself. Thank you for picking me up."
"My pleasure, Ms. James." He opened the back door of the expensive black car, and I stepped inside. It was just starting to get dark, and I took in the lights of downtown Chicago. It was mid-September, and the trees were just starting to show hints of orange, yellow, and red on the tips of their leaves. People were out enjoying the still-warm air of the last few days of summer. I rolled down my window a bit to let that air help with the chill that was running down my spine.
I knew Antonia's was a few short blocks away, and I tried to summon all of the courage I had inside to resist Jackson's charms. In just a few minutes, I would have to tell him face-to-face that I could not see him anywhere outside of work again. I didn't know if I had it in me to do this, but I had to try. It wasn't fair to either one of us to start something that I couldn't finish.
George came to a stop in front of the restaurant long before I was ready. He came around to my side of the car, opened the door, and offered me his hand. I took it and stepped out onto the curb, smoothing my dress down so I didn't flash everyone on the street.
I had never been to Antonia's, but I knew it was one of the best family-owned Italian restaurants in the city. It had started as a tiny place run by a husband and wife and had grown to a huge eatery that could easily hold 150 diners on any given night.
I said goodbye to George and declined his offer to walk me in. I could handle that part on my own. From the outside, the place looked ordinary, but inside, it was like stepping into the Italian countryside. There were vines and white lights everywhere. Italian love songs streamed through the air, and even the wait staff fit the part. It was beautiful, and I took a moment to look around before approaching the hostess stand and sealing my fate with Jackson Harter.
"Hello, welcome to Antonia's. How many?"
"I am meeting someone. Is there a table reserved under Harter?"
"Oh yes, you must be Ms. James. Sorry, I was expecting someone blonde and not nearly as beautiful as you! Mr. Harter is waiting for you." She led me through the main dining area where many well-dressed people were enjoying course after course of authentic Italian food. We reached a spiral staircase, and I carefully maneuvered myself up it, holding the railing tightly.
If I thought the downstairs was gorgeous, it was nothing compared to the private balcony area that overlooked the rest of the diners. The hostess made her way to a table for two, and when she stepped aside, I saw Jackson sitting there waiting for me.
He stood as he saw me approaching, proving that he had manners and was chivalrous to some extent. He was still dressed in his impeccable work suit, but he had removed his emerald green tie. The half-smile that made me come undone adorned his face, and it suddenly seemed as if there was no one else in that huge restaurant but the two of us. Jackson approached me and reached for my hand.
"Allie, I'm so glad you came."
"Thank you for sending the car. It really wasn't necessary."
"I saw you getting on the bus when I came running out of the building trying to catch up to you today. I can't have you traveling that way. God only knows what could happen to you on one of those buses. The only way I knew you would get to me safely was to send my best driver, George."
"I have no problem taking the bus, Jackson. I've been taking the bus my whole life. There are much scarier things in this world than public transportation." A picture of a fist flying toward my face flashed in my mind, and I must have flinched because Jackson gripped my hand tighter.
"What just happened? Are you okay?" I shook myself back to the present and tried to regain my composure. The last thing I needed was for him to pity me because of my past.
"I'm fine. Just a little tired. I'm sure George will tell you all about how I asked for his ID before I would get in the car with him. I don't take any chances. And how did you know that I would even come tonight?"
"All I could do was hope for the best. By the way, you look absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you. Apparently, I'm nothing like your usual dinner guest. The hostess said she was surprised that I wasn't blonde." I smirked at him as a puzzled look crossed his face.
"Well, all I can say is that you are by far the most gorgeous woman I have ever brought here. As of this moment, none of them matter anyway." I found myself feeling quite jealous of women I had never met as he pulled out my chair so I could sit down.
Jackson took the seat across from me, and a waiter appeared immediately. Jackson ordered wine, salad, bread, and whatever the night's special was before I could get a word in. This angered me because it reminded me of a time when I was forced to stay quiet and allow a man to rule my world. I didn't notice how tense I was until I felt my own nails digging into my palms.
I had to stop and remind myself that this was Jackson. I barely knew him, but so far, he was nothing like the man in Omaha. I had to stop making comparisons. Soon it wouldn't matter anyway, because after this dinner, Jackson would be nothing more than the man who owned the company I worked for.
"So, now that you've honored me with your presence, let's talk. I'm sorry for my actions last night. Maybe if I had known you worked for my company, I wouldn't have done what I did. But part of me is happy I didn't know. You were like a magnet, and when I saw you run off to the bathroom, I had to follow you. I've never done anything that crazy before, but it was like you were pulling me with you. And once I found your mouth, I was done. Every second I haven't been able to kiss your lips since then has left me feeling empty."
"Jackson, please stop. I'm not denying that what happened was incredibly hot. I felt exactly what you felt the second I looked into your unfathomable green eyes. How any woman could walk away from you once sh
e sees those is beyond me. But it has to end here. I can't get involved with the owner of the company. I can't let everyone treat me differently because I sleep with the boss. I have worked too hard to become independent. I will never be happy just being someone's arm candy and occasional lay when he is in town on business."
"Wait, what? Do you think I asked you here to be my mistress? That's not true and not fair at all. Have I assumed you were a certain type of woman because of last night? Have I not treated you with respect? I asked you here tonight because I think you are the most intriguing, beautiful, smart woman I've met in a long time. You wanted me for me before you knew I was Jackson Harter."
"Last night definitely had nothing to do with who you are. Powerful, successful men usually turn me off. They strike fear into those around them, and I left my fear behind the day I ran away from Omaha without looking back." A shadow passed across his perfect face, and I knew that I had said too much once again. Luckily, the waiter was back with our wine, bread, and salads.
I tried to avoid his gaze, but my body responded to it without my permission. I could feel him watching me as I ate, and I tried to concentrate on each bite instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing the hunger in my eyes that matched his own. Before I knew it, my wine glass was empty, and the ever-eager waiter was there refilling it. I needed the liquid courage, but I didn't need to get too tipsy to stand my ground. While I concentrated on my salad, he finally spoke.
"It saddens me to think that anyone or anything ever hurt you so much that you felt the need to run. I have no intention of hurting you. My imperfections are there, and I have some darkness in my past, but I am not an unkind man. I just want the chance to know you. I don't want this to end here."
I finally felt brave enough to meet his gaze. I was ready to tell him thanks but no thanks. I was going to stand my ground. But then I saw the pleading look. He was showing his youth instead of his power, and my heart opened a tiny bit to him. Deep down, I knew that he wasn't the man from my past. I knew he wouldn't starve me or make me run endless hours on the treadmill. But how could I ever trust him? And how could I ever have a real relationship after what I'd been through?
Eventually I would have to tell him about my past. Would he still want me then? And what about my job? My heart and my body wanted to eliminate all of the space between us, but my mind was still pulling me in the other direction.
"You don't understand, Jackson. I'm not just some young woman who got out of college and came to the big city to find a good job and have fun. I'm on my own here. I have no family anymore. I have nothing to fall back on. All I have is this job and my little one-bedroom apartment. If I lose that, I have nothing left. I'm not privileged like you."
"You haven't been on your own since we bumped into each other at the office this morning. Even last night I knew I had to find you again. I was planning on going back to Hawthorne's to find you. I will be here for you in whatever capacity you’ll allow. And as for me being privileged, you only know me as what you see on the outside and what other people have told you. My life has been far from perfect. Give me the chance and I’ll tell you about it. But you have to trust me."
He put his hand across the table and offered it to me, and after that speech, I offered mine back. That was the best answer I could give him at that moment.
Our food came shortly after that. It was rigatoni in a red cream sauce, and it tasted wonderful. I ate a few bites, and then reminded myself not to pig out. Jackson ate a larger serving and then ordered us a chocolate mousse for dessert.
"I don't think I can eat another bite. That was the best food I've had since I came to Chicago."
"Oh, you have to save room for the mousse. It is the best part of the meal here." When the waiter dropped the dessert off at the table, it had two spoons. There was a small dollop of homemade whipped cream on top of a large serving of rich mousse. I reached for my spoon, but Jackson pushed my hand down gently.
He took a small portion of the chocolate and cream onto his spoon and lifted it to my lips. It tastes cold and creamy and smooth against my tongue, and I took my time taking it in. A look of pleasure crossed his face as he watched me enjoy my first bite. I figured it was my turn, so I picked up my spoon and lifted the mousse to his full lips. I saw his tongue dart out to get everything off the spoon, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. How did I ever think I could resist this man?
We continued to feed each other in silence until the dessert was gone. Our spell was only broken by the waiter as he left the check for us. I reached for it, but Jackson was quicker.
"This is my treat. I asked you here as a favor to me."
"But I feel bad taking your charity. I can contribute."
"It's not charity. Your presence is a gift to me, Allison." He placed a credit card in the slot and the waiter processed it in a matter of minutes. Jackson came around to my side of the table and pulled my chair out so I could stand up. Then he led me to the stairs, guiding me down each one so that I wouldn't fall on my red heels.
When we reached the front door, two men held it open for us. I turned to say goodnight to Jackson, and I found that he was standing dangerously close.
"Thank you for inviting me to dinner. I'm not sure where this leaves us, but I should be getting home. I have to work early in the morning. I know there's a bus stop nearby."
"Didn't I make myself clear earlier? I will not allow you to leave me on a bus. George will take us both home. We can ride together. I will see you home, then he will take me to my place."
"If you insist, but I would be just fine on the bus. I'm only saying yes because I made the foolish decision of wearing these shoes."
"I think wearing those shoes was actually one of your better decisions, Allie. Don't think I didn't notice them or that dress the second you walked into the restaurant. I could see you from the balcony."
A heated look passed between us, but right at that moment, George got out of the car and opened the back door for us. Jackson took my hand and helped me into the car, and he followed shortly after that. When we were safely inside, Jackson leaned forward and spoke quietly to George. Then a black partition went up between the two seats. We were alone for the first time that night.
Jackson's hand found mine on the seat between us in the dimly lit car. The only light was coming from the streetlights and other cars as we drove through the streets. The second I felt his touch, every part of me came alive, and I craved more contact.
He brought my fingers to his lips and kissed them. I moved my hand to the side of his face and inched closer. I wanted to touch him. I needed to close the space between us. Outside of this car we were the CEO and the intern, but here we were equals.
I suddenly felt a newfound bravery take over, and I pressed my mouth to his, immediately pushing my tongue past his lips. I moaned into his mouth as I tasted the mousse. His hands moved to my hips, and he pulled me onto his lap, facing him. I wondered if people could see into the car, but at the same time, I didn't care if they did.
As I straddled him, his hands ran up and down my outer thighs. I was already soaking wet just from kissing him. His mouth broke from mine just to kiss up and down my throat. Then his hands made their way to my almost-bare backside, and he made a small sound of approval.
"Even more perfect that I remember, Allie. You have the curves I crave. I could spend hours exploring every inch of your perfect body." When he said that, I pushed myself down into him, letting him feel what he was doing to me. In return, I was met with a rock hard surprise, straining against the cotton of his expensive suit pants.
Jackson reached between us and cupped my sex, feeling me for the first time over the top of the thin lace. I needed the contact and silently pleaded with him to give me more by pushing against his hand. He responded by pulling the material to the side and rubbing his middle finger against my swollen clit. I cried out against him, no longer worried about who could hear me. This felt far too good to hold back.
"God
you're already so wet, baby. Do you like it when I touch you like this? I'm just getting started. There are so many things I could do to you. Just let yourself go."
I leaned in and sucked his bottom lip into my mouth again. He tasted so damn good, and I was trusting him to give me what I needed. Without warning, his middle finger moved lower and slipped all the way inside of me. He hooked it upward and started to rub my g-spot with each thrust. Then his thumb worked my clit. I was already so close to coming that I was digging my nails into his shoulders through his suit jacket.
"Fuck! Jackson, please don't stop!" He didn't stop. He just kept a steady pace, kissing and licking me as he made me wetter with each thrust of his talented finger. Within a few seconds, I pushed hard into his hand, coming undone all over him. My entire body was shaking from the force of the orgasm, and I had to hold onto him to stay upright.
I immediately felt the loss when he pulled out his fingers, but then I felt and heard him undoing his pants. I reached down to help him pull his throbbing member out of his boxer briefs, and it was just as big and swollen as I remembered it. Holding it firmly in my hand, I ran my thumb up and down the large vein that ran down from the bottom of the head to the base of his shaft. It was by far the biggest one I had ever touched, let alone had inside of me. I positioned it at my slick opening and slid all the way down, taking it slowly to give myself time to adjust to the size.
All of the confusion of the past two days washed away as soon as he was inside of me. I could feel how hard he was, and I squeezed myself tightly around him. I started a slow grinding movement, teasing him a little bit. I wanted to savor every second of this connection.