Silver Lining

Home > Other > Silver Lining > Page 24
Silver Lining Page 24

by E. J. Shortall


  “Come on through. I think he is on a call at the moment, but you can come and wait with me. Would you like a drink or anything?” She leads me through the door into the management suite, which seems almost as large as the area on the other side of reception, only here the area seems to be private offices feeding off of a main corridor.

  All my worries about coming here are vanishing by the second. Margaret seems lovely and is completely putting me at ease. “A coffee would be great, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  “No trouble at all. In fact, I was just going to make Craig and I one before Jenny buzzed up. How about I make it, and you take it through to him. How do you take it?”

  “Oh, white, no sugar. Thanks.”

  “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.” She points to a white leather sofa opposite what I presume is her desk and looks at me with a smile before disappearing through a door on the right.

  I’m sitting fidgeting with the hem of my skirt when Margaret reappears, carrying a small tray with three cups on it. She places it on her desk and reaches over to her phone. “Are you ready for your coffee, Craig?” My breath hitches and my pulse quickens at hearing his name. I can’t wait to get in there to see him.

  “Okay, he’s ready. He doesn’t know you are here. Are you ready to surprise him?” She looks over at me again, her eyes laughing. My palms have suddenly become damp, and I’m scared if I speak it may just come out as a squeak, so I simply nod my acknowledgment. “Come and grab your drinks, and I’ll open the door for you. Yours is in the CAS mug.”

  I stand and walk over to her desk and pick up the steaming mugs, then make my way over to the door Margaret is standing in front of. “Take your time in there. He doesn’t have any appointments until three, and I’ll deal with any calls that come through in the meantime.”

  “Thank you, Margaret,” I whisper as she pushes the door open and I step into Craig’s office.

  If I had been impressed by the offices so far, they all pale into insignificance compared to Craig’s domain. It suits him; sleek, sexy, and powerful with a hint of playfulness. Along one whole wall are windows looking out over the river, with Craig’s large black desk sitting in front. The light from the windows shimmers off his glossy dark hair. To my immediate right is a plain white wall with two black doors positioned in the middle. Opposite that is another white wall, but that is broken up with framed pictures and what appears to be certificates. To my left, in the corner, a black and white leather sofa and two matching chairs sit around a glass coffee table.

  “Thanks, Margaret. It’s been a long morning,” Craig’s deep voice draws my attention back to him, and I look over to see he still has his head down reading something in front of him. Without saying a word, I quietly walk over and stand in front of his desk, pushing his drink toward him.

  His gaze remains on his papers, but I see his nostrils flare and twitch as though he is sniffing, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

  “Since when did you change your perfume, Margaret?” Since when does he notice intimate details, like smells, of his employees like that? When he starts laughing and finally looks up at me, I want to reach across the desk and slap him. Hard. What a git, teasing me like that.

  “What a lovely surprise, Pingu. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he says as he pushes his chair away from the desk and pats his lap in invitation.

  “I was bored. Daytime TV just about put me in a coma, and I was missing you. I thought I’d come by and surprise you. I was hoping we could maybe go out to lunch?” I sit on his lap and sigh in pleasure when he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair.

  “You only missed me when you were on the verge of oblivion so had nothing else to think about? And there was me thinking I meant the world to you,” he teases.

  “You know you do,” I say, leaning forward and planting a chaste kiss on his soft luscious lips.

  “Hmmm, so welcome to CAS Technologies, Miss Merchant. Would you like the guided tour?”

  Shaking my head, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. “No, it’s cool. I saw most of it through the glass as I came through. I wouldn’t mind a thorough investigation of what’s in this room though.”

  “Is that so?” he questions, his voice taking on that deep rasping tone that he only gets when he’s turned on. “And where would you like to start? Here maybe?” His hands move up from my waist and snake round the back of my neck and through my hair, pulling me forward until our lips are so close I can feel his warm breath on mine. “Yes, here is a good place to start,” he whispers, pulling me until our lips are well and truly welded together, and we sit there, lips touching and enjoying the comfort of each other.

  “Craig.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I want to continue my investigation,” I say seductively. He sucks in a deep breath, and I feel the stirring in his trousers at my words.

  “Investigate away then, Pingu,” he croaks as I move onto my knees in front of him and trail my hands slowly down his chest, over the firm pecs and abs beneath his crisp white shirt.

  “This is very interesting, but I need to take a closer look.” My hands are now at his waist, and I slowly move my fingers to unbutton his trousers and lower the zip.

  “Pingu, what are you doing?” his breathy response encourages me to continue, safe in the knowledge that it is me turning him on like this. It’s a powerful feeling, like a drug, and one I am fast becoming addicted to.

  “I’m exploring CAS, getting a taste for how things work around here.” I tap the side of his thigh to get him to shift so I can pull his trousers and underwear down slightly. When his cock springs free, standing tall and broad like a Spartan warrior, I stare in unabashed awe and slowly lick my lips. I was never one for oral sex with David, mainly because it was always take from him. He never gave back. With Craig, though, I crave it. I crave his taste, the smooth velvety feel of him on my tongue, and the sounds he makes as he loses control and gives over to the pleasure; pleasure that I am giving him.

  “Amber, baby, you don’t need to do this,” his words sound weak even to me. I can tell he is already losing control, and I haven’t even touched him there yet. That just bolsters my confidence, and I go in for the kill. Dropping my head forward, I poke the tip of my tongue out and run it over his tip, scooping up the bead of moisture that has already escaped. Peering up at him through my lashes, I see he is looking down at me with heavy lust filled eyes. His chest is rising and falling sharply as his breathing accelerates, and his hands are holding the sides of his chair in a death grip.

  “Hmm, I really like the way things feel around here.” Wrapping my hand around his shaft, I start to slowly stroke him along his entire length before moving my lips back over him. I lick over the tip and down the heavy vein on the underside all the way to his balls, which I tease with light kisses and gentle suction.

  His moans and groans become louder and more desperate as I work my way back up to the tip and then suck him in deep.

  “Fuck, baby, that feels good.” Peering up again, without losing my rhythm, I watch as his head drops back and his lips part as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

  Pulling back so he drops out of my mouth with a pop, I turn away from him and lean across his desk to take a quick gulp of my coffee before returning to my ministrations. “What are you doing, Pingu… oh Fuuuck, the heat, baby, that’s…” he trails off as I suck him in again with a deeper and faster rhythm. When the tell-tale whimper escapes his throat and I feel his balls tighten, I know he is close, so I grip his thighs tightly and suck harder, letting him know I fully intend to see this through. “Baby, I’m gonna… Fuuuck.” Thick warm liquid shoots down the back of my throat, and I take deep gulps to swallow all he offers as his release consumes him and he falls back limp in his chair, panting to catch his breath.

  Licking up his length to ensure I got everything, I place a final kiss on his tip and stand up. “Holy shit, woman, you seriously are going to kill me
. The next time you do that, you’re going to put me six feet under.” He reaches for me and pulls me back onto his lap before attacking my lips with his. This time, the kiss is demanding; a fierce battle of tongues, clashing teeth, and possessive lips. By the time we pull apart, my chest is heaving and I feel like I’ve run the London Marathon. Twice.

  Placing his hands on either side of my face, Craig holds me in place as he stares into my eyes. “I fucking love you, Amber, so much. You’ve swept into my life like a tornado, turning everything I thought I knew and wanted upside down and leaving behind a trail of clarity so bright I finally see exactly where I want to be, what I want to do, and who I want to do it with. You have become my life, baby, my everything.”

  Tears puddle in my eyes, and I begin trembling as his words sink in. “I love you too,” I whisper as my throat clogs up with a ball of emotion.

  We continue staring into each other’s eyes for a couple of minutes, no words needed, our eyes saying everything we need to. Eventually, though, Craig shifts me off his lap and walks over to one of the doors on the far wall. He steps into a bathroom and shuts the door behind him. I reach over for my now lukewarm coffee and settle back onto Craig’s chair, inwardly smiling at the strength of my feelings for him.

  With my coffee in my hands I look around the office again, trying to spy any personal items of Craig’s that might give me any more clues about who this man I have fallen in love with is. Looking down at his desk, I see a spreadsheet of some sort open on his PC screen and various pieces of paperwork scattered across the desk, but no photos or anything personal. I am about to look elsewhere when a piece of paper grabs my attention. It’s difficult to see properly because other papers are partly obscuring it and there is a large amount of smaller typed text on it, but what captures my gaze are the words, “Ms Aleisha Williams.” Aleisha? Isn’t she the old flame? Why would he be having dealings with her? I thought he hadn’t seen her in years.

  “Do you have plans for the Saturday after next?” Craig’s voice startles me as he walks back out of the bathroom, and I nearly drop the mug in my hands.

  “Um, no I don’t think so. Why?”

  “I’ve received the invitation for our annual end of season reception, and I’d like you to come with me. Dinner, drinks and dancing - it should be a good night.”

  “Where is it at?” I ask. I’m not used to events like that, so although I have some nice clothes for work and general evenings out, I don’t have anything fancy.

  “The Petersham.” Oh God, I definitely don’t have anything suitable to wear. I went to a wedding there a few years back, and the place is seriously posh.

  Craig must see the worried look on my face because he walks over and crouches down so he is looking me straight on, concern etched on his features. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to go?”

  “I do, it’s just…”

  “It’s just what, baby?” I don’t want to sound like a whiney girl, but I really don’t have anything and can’t afford to go out and buy a whole new outfit. I wonder if Becki has something I could borrow?

  “I don’t have anything to wear to something like that,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush and have to look away, checking out what I can see through the windows from where I am sitting.

  “Baby, you could wear a potato sack and still look stunning, but if it worries you that much, I’d like to buy you something nice to wear.” I shoot my gaze back to him, shaking my head vigorously.

  “No, no you don’t need to do that. I’ll see if Becki has something, or I’ll buy something.”

  “I’d like to. I want to buy you something nice. What better excuse?”

  I see the genuine look on his face. He wants to do this, but I can’t accept his offer, especially not for something like clothes. “Thank you, Craig, that is really sweet, but it’s okay. I’ll sort something out.” To ease the sting of rejection, I lean forward to place a kiss on his lips.

  “You can’t stop me buying you presents, you know?” he snaps, looking like a small boy who has been told he can’t go and buy an ice cream.

  “I know,” I reply with a giggle and kiss him again.

  ***

  “You really can’t do lunch? Margaret said you didn’t have any meetings until three.”

  “I’m sorry. I was on the phone just before you came in and arranged a teleconference with a client.” Now it’s my turn to pout.

  “Damn, I was hoping we might at least get lunchtime together.”

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you take my card and go off into town and buy something nice for the reception, then come back here about five and we’ll go out to dinner instead.”

  “Ha, nice try, buster, but no. You are not buying me anything. How about I take my own card into town to buy something and come back at five.”

  “You are one frustrating female, you know that?” Despite his words, his tone is playful, and his eyes reflect it.

  “And you love me for it.”

  “Damn right I do. Now shoo, I need to prepare for this call, seeing as someone waltzed in here and distracted me.”

  “Oh yeah? Who was that? Want me to bitch slap them for you?”

  He laughs loud, and the sound is music to my ears. I love the sound of his deep throaty chuckle. “No, you’re fine, but thanks. She’s behaving now, but if it happens again, I might just have to punish her.”

  “Yeah? Sounds interesting.” And hot

  “You really are something else. Now shoo before I bend you over my desk,” he chuckles, releasing me from his arms.

  “Hmm, decisions, decisions.”

  “Amber,” he tries to look stern, but the barely contained humour is still there, so I wink and turn to walk away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Shopping, like we agreed,” I reply confused. He just said he wants me out, now he wants me to stay. What is it?

  “Not before I get a proper goodbye, you’re not.” He wraps his arms back around my waist and pulls me tight against him. Turning in his arms, I tilt my head to give us the perfect angle, and then his lips are on mine, giving me a thorough, proper goodbye.

  ***

  I have never been one to enjoy shopping, especially for fancy evening wear. Knowing whatever I choose is for an evening out with Craig, somehow the experience becomes enjoyable as I wonder through various boutiques and stores, looking and trying on different dresses. I end up with a gorgeous floor length, one shoulder, chiffon, beaded dress with a scooped back. It’s in a deep green that makes me think of Craig’s mesmerising eyes every time I look at it.

  Choosing some black strappy sandals, new underwear, and a new clutch bag to complete the ensemble, I head over to the checkout without any guilt about spending the money I now have from the sale of the house. I had wanted to save every penny of it, because one day I want to get back on the property ladder, but this is retail therapy at its finest, and I can’t wait to see Craig’s face when I’m all dressed up for him.

  With my items bagged up and paid for, I decide to sit in a little coffee shop and enjoy a Panini and coffee before I head back to Craig’s offices at five.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  At four pm, I have had enough of shopping and sitting in the coffee shop, so I decide on a slow stroll back to Craig’s offices.

  When I reach the office building, I still have time before I have to meet Craig. Walking a little further down the Thames Path I sit on one of the benches that line the water. I make myself comfortable and watch the world go by. The river is quiet today with no boats passing, just a few people strolling along the banks. Sadly, the peace is interrupted by the steady hum of traffic crossing the nearby Hammersmith Bridge. On the opposite bank, a few people are sitting or standing on the balconies of their apartments, people watching just like I am.

  My thoughts wander back to that piece of paper I saw on Craig’s desk, and I rack my brain for reasons why he would be having dealings with her if he hasn’t seen her for so long. Maybe she’s a new cli
ent or something; I couldn’t tell what was on the paperwork. No, that doesn’t make any sense, because then surely he would have spoken to her. That is, unless he lied to me about being in contact with her. Ugh, what am I doing? What does it matter? I trust him, and whatever that paperwork is has nothing to do with me.

  At quarter to five, I decide to head in. Perhaps I can chat with Margaret while I’m waiting for Craig to finish up. Walking through the front door again, I glance over at Jenny and give her a tight smile. I still have my visitor’s pass so don’t bother going over to her. As I approach the bank of lifts, one of the doors opens and a woman walks out. I glance at her briefly, thinking she looks familiar, but can’t place her so carry on my way.

  “You’re Amber, right?” I hear as I pass her.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I say as I turn to face her and look at her more closely.

  “Right, Craig’s friend,” she is smiling at me but it’s a cold menacing look, and the way she emphasises the word friend immediately puts me on edge.

  “Yes, I suppose. I’m sorry, you are?” I reply as I stretch my hand out to her in formal greeting.

  She lifts her hand and shakes mine with a little more strength than is necessary and holds on longer than is comfortable. Now that we are closer, I look at her features again and recognition slaps me in the face.

  “Oh sorry, let me introduce myself. I’m Aleisha Williams-Silver, Craig’s wife,” she says politely, but I hear the undertone of venom in those words.

  His wife? He’s married? No, no, he can’t be. He lives alone, doesn’t he? He’s never mentioned being married, and he doesn’t wear a ring. He … he said he loves me.

  “His… his wife,” I barely manage to mutter the words for fear that if I say them aloud it makes them true.

  “Yes, we’ve been married for twelve years. Just thought I would pop by and see my husband. What are you doing here?” She has just speared me directly in the heart and is twisting it for good measure. How could I have been so stupid? All those mysteries, the strange phone calls, the refusal to tell me about some of his history; it all makes sense now. He was playing me.

 

‹ Prev