Soft Skills

by Cleo Peitsche

  “Guess you can’t get any lower stress than that.”

  “He could have left a month after he started. His father died, and Nolan inherited enough money for twenty lifetimes. But he stayed on.”

  “I bet the kinky sex games had something to do with it.”

  Cunningham laughed. “You’re probably right. Though lately he keeps trying to convince us to sell.” He stood and extended a hand to her. Elle took it, her heart pounding, her knees going weak the moment they touched.

  He always had this effect on her, and she wondered if it would ever fade. He led her to his bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I want to try something new tonight,” he said quietly. “After the day you’ve had, I think this is what’s best for us both.”

  Elle shivered. She couldn’t imagine what he had in mind. And when she found out, she was absolutely shocked.

  Because for the first time ever, Cunningham took her gently. He kissed her, caressed her, his fingers preparing her for his girth. “Elle,” he murmured, his dark gaze holding her hostage, “how do I feel about you?”

  “You like me,” Elle said, her voice trembling. She felt like she’d crossed a boundary, saying it like this, and she half expected him to scowl, to push her away.

  “I love you.” He cupped the back of her head and brought his lips over hers. “I love you, you silly, insecure girl,” he murmured into her mouth. He leveraged his knees between hers and spread her legs with a brusque movement. The heavy, swollen head of his cock came to rest at her entrance, and she shuddered; she wanted him inside her so badly it hurt.

  “Elle, do you understand how I feel about you?”

  “Yes. You… love me.”

  “I do.” He slowly moved forward, his cock entering her slick flesh, soothing the ache… but then he stopped, only the mushroom tip inside her. “So there will be no more doubting from here on out.”

  “No.” Her voice quivered along with her body.

  He rocked his hips until he was fully seated in her. Slowly, he retreated, his eyes locked with hers, and Elle murmured a plea. He waited a long moment, her cruel boss, then he drove deep again, slow and steady.

  His breath was warm against her lips. “I can make tender love to you every night for a year if that’s what it takes to convince you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you’re too smart to mistake gentle sex for love, Elle. I know you are. So believe me when I say that I love you. I do. And my way of expressing it is to fuck you hard.” He bit her lip, and hot pain flooded her mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, commanding. “I will fuck you mercilessly, to allow you to see who I really am, and to give you what you need. Make no mistake, lover. You need this, and I aim to see that you get it.”

  He slid his hand between their bodies and rubbed his thumb in tight circles around her clit, teasing her, keeping her on the edge. She arched her back until it hurt.

  “Beg for me.”

  “Oh, God, please. I need this. You’re right. You’re always right, sir. Please let me come.”

  “You can do better,” he growled. “Try again.”

  “Cunningham, I want to come with you deep inside me,” she gasped. “I’m… I’m a slave for your cock. It’s all I think about—”

  “I’m not convinced.” He pulled himself from her slick, grasping flesh and knelt over her, squeezing her shoulders between his thighs, pinning Elle’s arms helplessly against her body. He squeezed a fist around his glistening erection. “I could just come on your face.”

  He would do it, too, she knew, and he’d make her sleep without any release. She implored him with her eyes. “Please, give me another chance,” she begged, her voice trembling.

  He moved back and pulled one of her legs up and onto his shoulder. He kissed her calf and locked his large hands around her waist. When he drove forward, he stroked over her clit, and Elle screamed as hours of pent-up sexual frustration found release.

  The moment the orgasm started to subside, Cunningham’s fingers were on her clit, teasing her back to the razor-thin edge, then sending her crashing into the abyss again. He caught her nipple between his teeth and bit, hard, all the while maintaining complete mastery of her sex. Her body belonged to him, she knew, and he saw fit to make her come over and over again.

  Then he pulled back, a wild look in his eyes, and he grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide before shoving himself so deep that it hurt, and she loved every second of how he used her body for his own pleasure, loved that he knew she loved it, too.

  His orgasm seemed to last forever. His grunts echoed through the quiet room. At last he relaxed a bit, moving to the side so that he wouldn’t crush her under the weight of his dense, muscular body.

  “Feeling better?” he asked. Elle nodded. “Then what do you say when a man is kind enough to turn you out?” Cunningham prodded.

  “Thank you for turning me out, Cunningham, sir,” Elle said. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a control freak?” she whispered. He flipped onto his back, turning her with him, his spent cock still inside her.

  “Remind me tomorrow that you said that. I’ve got too many boring phone calls, and I seem to recall that you fit nicely under my desk.” He pulled her closer, and Elle soon fell asleep in his strong arms.

  Elle changed her outfit eight times. No matter what she put on, she knew her mother would find something to criticize about it.

  Eventually she settled on a knee-length floral dress with a wide, brown belt. She’d bought it herself and hadn’t had a chance to wear it. She dug out a pair of modest heels.

  Nolan had wanted her to pick up her mother in the new car, but Elle declined. If Mama got wind that Elle had any kind of extra money laying around, she’d be back on Elle’s doorstep, hand out, guilt trip all queued up and ready to play nonstop until Elle caved in.

  It would only be Mama; Savannah couldn’t make it. She called to ask if it would hurt Elle’s career if she didn’t show up, and Elle did everything in her power to give her sister the impression that the dinner would be boring.

  Elle adored her sister, and they got along extremely well, but the men meeting one family member was more than enough.

  She hadn’t meant to arrive early, but she was so jittery that she couldn’t bear to sit at home waiting any more. The loft didn’t have a doorman, and Elle slipped into the lobby as a tenant was exiting. She fidgeted in the elevator, biting her lip so hard that she could taste blood. She wondered what would happen if she just didn’t show up. The punishment couldn’t be worse than going through with the dinner.

  Nolan answered the door before she even rang the bell. His dark hair was slightly neater than usual, and he’d recently shaved. The overall effect made him less prep school dropout and more prep school valedictorian.

  “You are stunning,” he said as his blue eyes took her in. “I don’t remember picking that dress out.”

  Elle kissed the soft spot under his chin. “You didn’t.”

  “Careful.” His voice was a low, deep growl. “That dress is already giving me ideas.”

  Normally Elle would have done everything in her power to entice Nolan, but she was too nervous. She entered the loft, taking care not to rub up against him. “Mama’s not here, is she?”

  “The driver called when she got in the car, so I guess we’ve got thirty minutes.”

  Jonathan walked by. He stopped, surprised. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.” He handed Elle the glass of wine in his hand. “Lovely dress.”

  Soft jazz music played through invisible speakers. Elle was pretty sure that Mama hated jazz; she pretty much hated everything except for early 80s music, which had been popular during Mama’s adolescence, and fast food. And Cunningham was highly unlikely to provide either.

  “Have you decided who you want to live with?” Nolan asked.

  Elle nodded nervously. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

  “And?”

  “I’ll tell everyone a
t once. Where’s Cunningham?”

  He was in the gigantic kitchen; plenty of room for all four of them without anyone cramping his workspace. Even with the exhaust fans quietly running, the tantalizing aromas of onions and fresh basil were impossible to ignore, and despite her nervousness, Elle realized she was hungry.

  “What can I do to help out?”

  “Nothing.” Cunningham handed a bowl of cherry tomatoes to Nolan, who began slicing them in half.

  “Elle made her decision,” Nolan said between chops.

  Cunningham and Jonathan looked at her, and Elle hopped up onto one of the unused counters. “You decided?” Jonathan asked. His permanent joking smile faded.

  Elle nodded.

  “Don’t forget that I have two pools in my building,” Nolan said. “I was thinking about moving someplace where I could have a pool actually in my apartment. Can’t get approval for the penthouse. Something about crashing through the floor. I don’t see the problem, but the condo association keeps refusing.”

  “You own the building,” Cunningham said.

  Nolan ignored him, dumped tomatoes into the bowl and began chopping the next batch. “I just need someone to go house shopping with me…” He was teasing, but Elle suspected that if she agreed, he would prove himself amenable to relocating. She took that as a sign that her plan might work after all.

  “Actually, you read my mind. I’m sure there’s a really good reason you guys didn’t suggest this, but here’s what I want…” She took a deep breath. “For all of us to live together.”

  Silence. Nothing.

  Nolan noisily scraped the tomatoes into a salad bowl. Jonathan splashed wine into a glass and took a sip.

  The doorbell rang, and everyone froze for half a second.

  Elle threw her arms up. “Seriously? No one’s going to say anything at all?”

  “This is a discussion for after dinner,” Cunningham growled.

  The bell rang again. That was Mama, impatient as hell. Jonathan went to answer it, and Elle slid off the counter, poured a full glass of wine and took the indirect route to the open seating area of the spacious loft.

  She was sure that Mama would be complaining that they left her standing in the hallway where she could have been attacked by gangs of hoodlums. Never mind that this neighborhood was probably as secure as the White House. Mama lived in her own little world. Elle just hoped she’d wait to start the worst of the bellyaching.

  Mama and Jonathan entered the room. Mama was looking up at him, starstruck. Elle watched in horror as Mama giggled like a little girl.

  “You never do anything I say,” Mama said when she stopped ogling Jonathan long enough to notice Elle, “but if you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll grab this one and never let him go.”

  Jonathan winked and disappeared toward the kitchen.

  “You realize that he’s my boss,” Elle hissed.

  “He’s a man. No wedding ring. If you don’t snatch him up, someone else will.”

  Instead of giving Mama the full glass of wine, Elle took a deep, fortifying sip.

  By the time dinner was over, Mama had suggested that Elle marry each of the men. Mama couldn’t make up her mind.

  Elle sure knew what that felt like.

  And to her surprise, not only was Mama relatively well behaved, but she seemed to genuinely like all three of them. After dinner, Elle accompanied her to the lobby.

  “You seem different,” she said hesitantly.

  Mama nodded. “Been seeing a therapist.”

  Elle was stunned into silence for a long moment, but when she realized that there wasn’t a punch line, she found herself tearing up. “That’s great. For how long?”

  “Since you got your new job. And I owe it to you. Don’t look so flabbergasted. If you weren’t paying my expenses, I never could afford it.”

  Elle spontaneously squeezed Mama, who went stiff for a moment, then returned her hug. “I’m so glad,” Elle said.

  “My therapist says I need to be grateful for what I have. I’m grateful for you, Elle, and I’m sorry that I’ve been so hard on you. Though seeing how well you’re doing, maybe I wasn’t completely wrong.”

  Elle decided not to answer that. She watched Mama get into Cunningham’s limo, then she hurried back to the loft.

  She hadn’t closed the front door behind her, so when she heard the men loudly discussing something, she stealthily moved toward the dining room.

  “Absolutely not,” Cunningham snapped. “She can’t marry all three of us. She’ll have to choose one, and it will be easier for everyone if she shows a preference sooner than later.”

  Elle’s heart jumped into her throat. She can’t marry all three of us. He hadn’t been kidding when he said they were in it for the long haul.

  “I don’t think this is fair,” Nolan said. “Not to us and not to her.”

  “Hold up.” It was Jonathan. He sounded upset. “I agree with Nolan. Besides, she’ll choose you, Cunningham. You’ve set up a game that you’re guaranteed to win.”

  “For Elle, I’d do anything,” Cunningham snapped. “You would, too.”

  Elle was stunned. They were fighting over who got to have her. She remembered the day of her interview, the tension in the office. She hadn’t seen much evidence of that in the intervening months.

  But here it was.

  She had thought they were going to destroy her, but in the end, she was the one who would tear them apart. She shook her head. She wouldn’t allow it to happen.

  Clearing her throat, she returned to her seat at the table and gracefully sat in her chair. She picked up the fork and took a bite of apple cake.

  The men stared at her, clearly wondering how much, if anything, she’d heard. “Mama’s gone. Let’s discuss where I’ll be living.”

  Her statement was met with silence.

  Nolan slouched in his chair, staring miserably at his glass of water. Somehow, his hair had gotten mussed up and he looked every bit the petulant, spoiled playboy that he was, and Elle wanted to kiss him until he smiled.

  Jonathan, on the other hand, looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and Elle knew that whatever she decided, he’d make the best of it.

  Cunningham was poised but tense, ready for war like always.

  Elle looked at each of them. Choose? Impossible. “Either we live together or I stay where I am.” She smiled. “Nolan? Yes or no?”

  She held her breath. If he answered honestly, she could get what she wanted and end this squabbling. But if he held rank, things were going to be messy.

  Cunningham stood, glowering.

  Elle stood as well and faced him, chin up. He knew her? Well, she knew him. Dominant, sadist, control freak… with a soft side that he probably thought made him weak.

  “I love you guys, but if I don’t get this, I’m out.”

  Cunningham closed his eyes as if he had a headache, and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “Ok. Fine.”

  Elle beamed. “We buy a home together. A new place.”

  “Great,” Jonathan said, rubbing his hands. “I’ll have my real estate agent put something together.”

  Cunningham, though, stared at Elle. He knew that she’d heard. She swallowed, but she didn’t flinch under his penetrating gaze. Whenever he turned his full attention on her like this, it made her hot, hot, hot… but she didn’t allow the tsunami of lust to cloud her judgement, either. She couldn’t. Everything depended on this moment.

  Cunningham nodded, then he reached for her with one hand, shoving away dishes with the other.

  Moments later her head hung over the end of the table. Someone pushed up her dress and spread her thighs.

  “My poor mouth is so very empty,” Elle whimpered.

  … And then it wasn’t.

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