Ex-Con Times Two

by Jay S. Wilder

  “This is just the beginning,” I remind her. “We have Hermes, Laroche, Chloe, Lanvin, Balenciaga, Westwood, Saab…”

  She looks impressed. Maybe a little amused, too. “You’re learning names! I’m proud of you!”

  I shrug. “Something’s bound to rub off after a little while,” I tell her. Of course I spent time memorizing the names of the biggest designers, to impress her a little. I’d rather cut off my tongue than tell her.

  “So where to next?” she asks, all eager freshness. Her excitement is almost contagious.

  “I was thinking about ducking into a little café for coffee and croissants,” I tell her. “Then getting ready for the next show. At some point I want to see the latest stats on the social media accounts. We do have to get a little work done while we’re here.”

  Minutes later, seated together at a little table in Cafes Verlet, I review the graphs laid out on Anna’s tablet. “This is ridiculously impressive,” I tell her. She can’t hide the smile which spreads over her face.

  I pull fresh croissants out of the bag we picked up at the bakery down the street. I close my eyes in bliss at the first bite. Americans have nothing on French pastry.

  I look at the graphs again, gratified to see the trend is up, up, up in terms of the number of followers, the amount of interaction on each post and the number of shares we’re getting. “We were even shared by the Vuitton and McCartney accounts after LA,” Anna tells me. My eyebrows shoot up.

  “Talk about visibility,” I murmur appreciatively, proud of her. She nods. I scroll through the accounts, noticing she’s taken the time to interact with every comment—sometimes up to a hundred people per post.

  “Fuck me! Do you ever sleep?” I ask. “I can’t believe you take the time to do this. It must take you hours.”

  She shrugs. “It’s my job.” I know she’s not fishing for compliments, which is even more impressive. For the millionth time I remind myself not to be so endeared by her.

  “I hope you’ve set a little time aside to enjoy yourself this week,” I remind her. “I’d hate for you to spend all of your time in Paris replying to social media comments. How many people get the chance to see Fashion Week in the fashion capital of the world?”

  As always, she can see through me. “Give me a break,” she says, sipping her espresso. “You don’t give a sweet rat’s ass about fashion. You just want to find some excuse to have a little fun, and you want me to be in on it.”

  I try my best to look innocent, but I can’t. We both laugh.

  “So sue me,” I finally say. “I just want to have some fun. I mean, it’s Paris, for god’s sake. You’re a beautiful woman. You deserve to have a good time.” I had plenty of ideas for the sort of fun we could have together. Sure, we’d see all of the little touristy areas. I’d have to take her shopping so she could bring home some clothing of her own. But then there would be the evenings, with the fun we could have together in my hotel room.

  Hey—at least there’s a view of the Eiffel Tower from there, I tell myself. She can look out at it while she’s riding my cock. I instantly grow hard. I need to force myself to focus on business. It doesn’t help she’s not wearing a shell under the jacket of her suit. I can see the side swells of her perfect tits.

  She looks up at me from her tablet, mischief in her eyes. I’m sure my intent is clear, but she pretends not to notice. “Well, what can I say? You’re the boss, after all.”

  She’s damn right, I think. I can’t wait to show her what she can do with me.

  Chapter 19

  Anna

  It’s like a dream. It’s all like a beautiful dream come true.

  I know I should be sorry about Kelly missing out on Paris. I did tell her I’d have her back, after all. But there was nothing I could do about it. Adam knew she was planning on making the trip a personal vacation. He found out. It’s not as though she was keeping it a secret, anyway.

  I try to avoid thinking about her. There will be enough trouble with her when I get back to the office. There has to be some way I can make it up to her. I pick up a few souvenirs while shopping with Adam. He’s discreet enough not to inquire as to who’s getting them.

  Otherwise, I immerse myself in the beauty of the city. There’s more than enough to keep me occupied.

  For starters, there’s the fashion. I’ve been down this road, having attended so many events in New York with my mom. It’s almost like she’s sitting beside me sometimes. I wonder what she would think about the pieces on the runway. But for all my previous experience, I can’t help noticing a little flutter in my chest at the start of every show. Besides, back in the day I was hardly sitting in the front row right along with the heads of top fashion magazines. It’s a whole new world. An intoxicating one.

  Then there’s the opportunity to mingle with the editors from Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar and other publications. I sensed Adam wasn’t particularly pleased with me for chatting with who he saw as the enemy, but I knew it couldn’t hurt to make contacts. I didn’t see it as the zero-sum game he did. Besides…he was my boss, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t network.

  Then, of course, there was Paris. I’d been here once before, as a child with my father when he was researching one of his books. I remember being barely interested, wishing I could have been left at home to spend the summer with my friends like other normal kids. What a waste.

  As an adult, it’s a whole new world—and I’m in the center of it.

  “I can’t believe the week is just about over,” I murmur as we walk along the plaza outside the Louvre. It’s a beautiful night, absolutely crystal clear. I’m filled with a sense of reverence as we stroll the grounds together. “It all went by so quickly.”

  “I thought you might like to spend a quieter night together now. Quieter than the rest of the week has been, anyway. I mean, hell, even I’m worn out.” I smile at his insight. While it’s been amazing, running around from one party to another, being wined and dined by the organizers of the event throughout the week, it’s also been exhausting. He was right. I needed this time to decompress.

  We stand here, together, watching a light show in front of the museum. I’m sure I’ve never had a more romantic moment in my life. I find myself reaching for Adam’s hand without thinking about it. I can’t help but smile to myself when he squeezes gently.

  Another fun part of this week has been the way we’ve slept together every night. I can’t help myself. He’s impossible to resist, and without Kelly here to potentially ruin things it’s like he’s been unleashed. I’ve tried to fight him, god knows, but it’s like trying to swim upstream. The harder I stroke and kick, the further downstream I seem to be pulled. On the first night, after dancing together at a kickoff party, I decided to just enjoy my time with him.

  It’s been magical. I have no idea how I’ve managed to stay awake during the shows, honestly. Must be all this strong French espresso. Because Adam and I have been up until nearly dawn every day, with him doing things to me I’d never imagined.

  He touches something inside me, something deep. Primal. Necessary. I didn’t know I was so hungry, but I realized after the first time we were together that I was starving for him. Unlike a physical hunger which can be sated after eating, it’s like my hunger for him grows after we’re together. It’s dangerous, thrilling, sexy. Hypnotic.

  Just now, as though he’s reading my thoughts, Adam’s fingers begin stroking the inside of my wrist. He knows how sensitive I am, how turned on I can become just by having a little patch of flesh gently stroked. My knees turn to jelly, right here in front of the Louvre. When I turn to him I see desire on his face.

  We walk on, down one of Paris’s winding alleys. The sky is dark, lit only by stars. We kiss under the cloak of darkness. His hands are in my hair. I sigh into his mouth as his tongue makes slow, languid circles. I melt into him, the heat between my legs already sparking and growing. It’s like there’s a switch which he knows how to flip to instantly turn me on.

 
; Our kissing grows deeper, more urgent. He takes me by the hips to pull me toward him. There’s no mistaking the hardness pressing against my hip.

  “I need you,” he whispers raggedly, pressing his forehead to mine. Every muscle in his broad back is tensed under my hands. He’s breathing rapidly. His heart is racing just as mine is.

  “Maybe you need to take me back to your suite so you can fuck me senseless,” I murmur. He presses his erection harder against me as he groans.

  “You’re becoming a sex addict,” he accuses. I can’t help but laugh.

  We hurry back to the hotel, only a few blocks from where we stopped to make out. Before I know it I’m falling backwards onto his bed. He lowers himself on top of me.

  There’s a truth to this, an inevitability. His hands creep under my blouse, tracing already familiar patterns over my skin. It’s as though we’ve always been doing this. He knows just how to touch me to make me burn for him. But there’s a deeper pleasure, a deeper certainty in my heart almost sweeter than anything my body feels.

  My blouse is unbuttoned, his mouth and tongue attacking the curves of my breasts before reaching underneath my lacy bra to access more of me. I sigh, clutching the back of his head, desperate for more. The clasp is in the front. He opens it expertly to take one breast in his hand while sucking on the other.

  “Jesus…” I whisper, the heat between my legs intensifying. I watch as his tongue traces a slow, soft circle around my nipple. It’s so hot, watching him as he teases me. He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly over the nipple. I gasp, hissing between clenched teeth, my eyes closed to soak in the sensation.

  “So sensitive,” he whispers teasingly before trailing his tongue from one breast to the other to lavish the same attention there. His thigh is between my legs and I begin moving against it. I’m still wearing my panties and tights, but the ache is threatening to kill me if I don’t find some relief for it. He presses his thigh closer to me, drawing a groan from my lips.

  His tongue begins trailing from my breasts down my torso. I arch my back to greet him. “More,” I gasp, desperate for him. He licks my navel. He laughs gently at me when I whimper.

  “You’re so eager,” he taunts me. “Always wanting to rush through.”

  “I need to come,” I pant as his tongue torments me again. “Oh, please!” I beg. I’m on fire, all reasoning lost to need.

  “Please what?” he asks, slowly working the leggings over my hips, down my legs. I reach down to help him, to hasten the process, but he holds my wrists to the bed. I grip the sheets, twisting them in my fists as he continues the torturous process of undressing me.

  “Please, take me,” I moan, my head thrown back. I don’t care about anything right now other than having him inside me.

  “You don’t want me to taste you?” he asks. I look down to see his tongue dart out to sweep over my slick, throbbing lips. I gasp.

  “Not now,” I manage to say between breaths. “I need your cock. Inside me. Now. Please.”

  I see a look of lust on his face as he quickly strips off his clothes. I sit up, touching every inch of exposed skin as he reveals it. I run my tongue over the muscles of his abdomen while I rake my nails down his back. I dig my nails into his ass, making him hiss. His head tilts back, the veins on his neck sticking out.

  He reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and hurriedly unrolling it. I lay back, ready to accept him. When he slides home, filling me with his thick heat, it’s like heaven.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders as he settles his body over mine. He begins moving as we do the dance which has become so familiar to us. Our bodies fit together perfectly. He drives himself into me again and again, touching me deep inside.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper. He raises himself enough to look into my eyes. He holds my gaze as he moves. We watch each other as the pleasure builds between us. We go slow so I can feel every inch of him as he rocks back and forth. Occasionally our lips brush together, our tongues touching gently.

  Eventually, though, the heat overtakes us. We both pant and gasp as we reach the peak. I push my hands, palm-first, against the headboard to push down against him as his thrusts become stronger, driving on and on into the very center of me. I scream into his shoulder as I come. When he strains against me, I know he’s found his release as well.

  I sigh heavily, my arms wrapping around his shoulders again. I kiss the side of his neck where his pulse is pounding like a freight train.

  I’m falling for him, I realize as I hold him in my arms. It could jeopardize my career. But right now, nothing matters more than keeping him close to me.

  Chapter 20

  Anna

  It’s awfully cold in my little closet of an office, but it has nothing to do with the thermostat.

  I tell myself again to focus on my work instead of on Kelly clearly being pissed off at me. I tried to give her the little presents I bought for her in Paris, but as far as I know the perfume and Hermes scarf are still sitting, untouched, on her desk. Exactly where I left them when she turned her back on me.

  Could I have helped being assigned to the Paris job? I don’t think so. Adam was being stubborn, as always. He was determined I go with him. Fabulous sex aside I think it was the right instinct. I can’t keep up with all the activity across our social accounts, I’m getting complimentary emails from several of the contacts I made during the week. They’ve been checking out my work with nothing but glowingly positive feedback for me.

  Would Kelly have been able to do this? I doubt it. Nothing against her, of course, but I know she would have been too caught up in schmoozing with the VIPs to make the sort of headway I’ve been making. Not to toot my own horn, but I managed to have fun while boosting Trendsetter’s online presence. I simply understand this sort of thing better than Kelly does. I won’t begin to pretend she doesn’t have strengths I lack.

  If only I could get her to see it the same way.

  I force myself to turn my attention back to the copious notes I took throughout the week. I’m working on the lead-in articles to our Paris Fashion Week spread. Excitement builds in me despite my conflict over Kelly.

  She’s not the only person who has me conflicted, either. I can’t deny what I felt on our final night, when Adam and I made love—which was exactly what we did. We didn’t just fuck or have sex. We made love. It was beautiful. I know I didn’t imagine it. I didn’t imagine how it felt to look into his eyes as he moved inside me. I felt like we were staring into each other’s souls, as corny as it sounds.

  Of course, now when I’m not immediately post-coitus I can think a little more clearly. While at the time I hadn’t cared much about how this could jeopardize everything I’ve been working for, now the stakes are clearer. I know this could be big trouble. My hands shake a little just thinking about how this could blow up in my face.

  Am I willing to give up my career for this man? Everything I’ve been hoping for, for as long as I can remember? I sit back against my chair, folding my arms against my torso. Is this worth it?

  Does he even feel the way I do?

  I stand to stretch, rolling my head on my neck, raising my arms above my head then extending them out to the sides. I can nearly touch the walls of my office when I do. It might be a small office, but it’s all I have right now—with hard work, I know I can do better. Or I can continue down this path with Adam Gerome, playboy of the fashion magazine world. I could lose even this little foothold—making it even harder to climb any higher.

  I lower my arms with a sigh. How did things get so complicated?

  I see Kelly walking down the hall, toward me. Her face is stony. I try to smile at her, to get her to come around, but she’s having none of it.

  “He wants us both in his office,” she says, shortly. She turns, directing her footsteps toward the office in question. I don’t even have time to close my documents before I trot after her.

  I walk in just after Kelly. Adam is standing behind hi
s desk, looking out the window. He turns when he hears us enter. I can’t help the little flutter in my stomach when my eyes land on him. He looks impeccable, as always, his tailored white shirt with a dark blue tie setting off his tanned skin and blue eyes.

  “Ladies,” he says with a smile. Those flashing white teeth set my heart a-flutter along with whatever’s happening in my stomach. Settle down, girl. But I can’t help smoothing a self-conscious hand over my cashmere rose sweater and grey pencil skirt. I touch a hand to the set of pearls he presented to me while on the flight home. He notices the gesture.

  We take a seat opposite Adam’s chair. He walks around to our side of the desk to perch on the edge, between us.

  “I’m sure you know by now, Kelly, what a success Paris was,” he starts off.

  She barely suppresses a snicker. I hear it, but Adam ignores it. “I’m sure it was,” she says, her bright smile in contrast to the meaning beneath her words.

  He continues. “Our online presence is stronger than it’s ever been. We’re starting to see the sort of engagement magazines like Vogue and Elle have had for years.” I can’t help blushing a little when he says it, because every word is true. I honestly can’t believe how well things are going.

  “I had a long meeting with my father over the weekend, after returning from Paris,” he says. This gets my attention. I had no idea he was having this meeting. Then again, why should I have? It wasn’t as though he needed to check in with me. He was my boss, after all, not my boyfriend.