King

by Dee, L J

  The awards would be stressful and we’d find out whether we’d won, or not. From now until then I should be relishing the experience and floating on cloud nine, with abundant hope in my veins that I would pick up the prize that would secure me a great career and plum accounts for the rest of my days. But I wasn’t. I was thinking about Jason King, whose scent I caught on a gust of wind, and who was staring at me intently as I opened my eyes.

  His hand was beside my face on the wall as I looked into beautiful blue eyes, eclipsed by deep pools of the darkest black as he gazed down at me. “Please Jason don’t” I sighed, completely affected by the towering perfect male specimen leaning into me. “I’m sorry Charlotte, you have no idea how hard this is for me. I just wanted to come and congratulate you”. His voice was tinged with an undeniable sadness and he looked as torn as I felt.

  I couldn’t peel my gaze away, but as tears began to re-form in my eyes, thoughts turned to the people waiting for me inside. Katie was right, this wasn’t just about me, it was for them, for all of us. “You too” I whispered quietly, pushing gently past him and making my way into the bustling wine bar. He made no attempt to move or follow me, his body language betraying that he was just as cut up about this as I was, which made the whole thing infinitely worse. If he could just be King, arrogant, irritating, frustrating bastard, I could probably deal with it a damn sight better, but until he could open up to me, there was absolutely nothing I could do.

  I made a good effort of appearing happy for the rest of the evening, only Katie and Sasha detecting I was faking my euphoria as I plied the team with champagne to celebrate the nomination. “We’re in the Mercedes pitch” Alison leant into me towards the end of the evening “and Grayson and I both want you to do it”. I couldn’t help a beaming smile back. It looked like I was back in favour and back on the plum pitches. “When is it for?” I smiled, hoping it would be well after the forthcoming awards. “Just after the awards, the team have already had the brief” she winked and I knew right then she had rumbled my plan. After all, it was Alison and not Grayson who would be seeing the revenue from my small and medium victorious pitches adding up, and only she would know which exec was being put forward.

  “Who’s getting Mercedes” Ian interjected, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. “Charlotte” Alison said firmly as he eyed me over with disdain, shaking his head. “I’ll be speaking to Grayson about that” he spat, challenging Alison as though it were his God given right to work the big accounts. “It was Grayson’s decision” came her confident retort as Ian walked out of the door, Alison and I both watching the back of his well cut grey suit disappearing into the night. “I think you might have put his nose out of joint” I said, raising my eyebrows at her as she shrugged and walked away.

  This was welcome news, my little team would be delighted and I would make sure that as many of my loyal band as possible got to work on this one. It would be high end, big budget and the type of campaign that looked very good on the CV for a long time. The only downside, I knew it would mean going head to head with King again.

  By the following week, I began to feel slightly better. Things were coming together. I had secured Mercedes, been nominated for campaign of the year and I knew the little pitches I had been working my arse off to secure must have got me closer to Ian Anderson and in with a shot at Exec of the Year. The flurry of last minute jobs had all gone well, and my merry band of undercover helpers had proved beyond a doubt that when it came to brilliant creative, a workload that would challenge their superiors and a dedication to secrecy, that they were more than up to the job. Especially Sasha. She’d told me that King had questioned her mercilessly every night about what I was working on. I was glad he’d picked on her. The full Jason King charm offensive could be pretty irresistible as I knew to my cost, but unless he’d changed into a man who liked to be pinned down and submit to a woman in thigh high boots and a fetish for doling out pain, she wouldn’t cave, and that scenario seemed somewhat unlikely.

  I avoided the wine bar in an effort to avoid him, much to the disgust of Katie, but by late Thursday afternoon, failing to make pre boiled eggs seem like anything anyone might want to buy, I was no longer able to resist the calling of the cream cheese frosted carrot cake that had taunted me relentlessly from the window of the little cafe all week, and I headed over there.

  I was still thinking about him, but it wasn’t a five sugar day, so I stuck to two, grabbing a complimentary magazine in an effort to distract my brain from eggs. It was usually when my best ideas would come, but today it wasn’t enough to distract me from other thoughts that would flash involuntary into my brain, and were certainly not helped by the glossy full page photograph of Tamsin Lloyd looking up adoringly at Jason King that now confronted me. He looked utterly beautiful and was sporting an ‘I’ve bagged a supermodel’ expression. I shut the magazine and flung it unceremoniously across the table, pushing away the cake I could no longer stomach and put my head in my hands.

  The truth was that even the damned photograph bothered me a lot more than it should, and all thoughts of Jason King were proving harder to shake than I’d ever imagined. “It’s not what you think Charlotte” came the soft low voice behind me, pulling me from my thoughts, as I raised my eyes straight into the gaze of the man himself that hit me with such an intensity it felt like my heart exploded. He sat beside me without permission, tucking into my discarded carrot cake, a small smile tickling the side of his lips.

  This had to be a wind up, he didn’t even like cake. “Please sit down and help yourself to my dessert” I muttered sarcastically as he watched me, chuckling softly. “You owe me cake” he grinned, winking as my stomach flipped at the memories of the fateful evening spent in the creative space of King Marketing where I had eaten chocolate and vanilla decadence, and he had eaten me.

  It provoked the most exquisite feelings, leaving me even more confused about my emotional entanglement with my nemesis and his emotional attachment to me. Or rather lack of it. I also remembered how he’d left me and run to Tamsin Lloyd, supermodel. I gazed at the floor, blushing slightly and unsure of how to handle this, humiliated at what had happened since.

  “What do you want King?” I said eventually, turning closely to assess his reaction. “You’ve already said you don’t want to take things forward with me, you won’t introduce me to that lifestyle, so what the fuck are you doing here?”

  The fierceness and longing in his eyes were like a call to my body, and I forced myself to slide further away from him, down the seat in an effort to quell my responsiveness. “It’s not easy to stay away” he purred sexily, his low seductive voice, melting my insides whilst my logical brain wanted to slap him.

  I stood, grabbing my handbag. “Well I’ll make it easy for you King, because you’re being a dick and this just isn’t fair” I said firmly, making my way out of the little cafe and one hundred yards down the street outside, before I was grabbed by my elbows and tugged around, straight into the rock hard abs of Jason King.

  The truth of it was, when I was that close, feeling him, the masculine woody scent invading my senses, my defences were powerless to resist, my body responding involuntarily, arching into him even as I screamed at myself internally to pull away. The conflict of emotions threatened to overpower my resolve and tears began to glaze my eyes as he cupped my face gently, forcing me to meet his gaze.

  “We need to talk” he said firmly, beckoning the dark black car with tinted windows parked further down the street. “There’s nothing to say” I responded quietly, looking away as his eyes burned into me. It wasn’t true and I knew it. There was plenty to say and I was desperate for answers about why he wouldn’t or couldn’t introduce me to his lifestyle, why he wouldn’t take things forward, not to mention what the hell was going on with Tamsin Lloyd, but I was equally as sure there was no point discussing any of it. I was under no illusion that he had absolutely meant what he’d told me at the party.

  “Like hell there isn’t Smit
h” he growled, opening the back door to the vehicle as his driver sat stoically in the front seat, ignoring the scene unfolding on the street outside. “Get in” he growled, his tone brokering no argument as I stood shaking my head. “I’ve got work to do for tomorrow King, I haven’t even started the pitch”. I knew he wouldn’t argue with that. He was at the pinnacle of his game and a man that took work and money very, very seriously.

  “What is it?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously, increasing his grip on my arm. “Pre boiled eggs” I whispered, embarrassed, as he looked at me incredulously, his open mouth and furrowed brow betraying his disdain as he picked me up, carrying me into the car and placing me gently on the seat, closing the door and locking it behind us, before he released me.

  “Drive” he said firmly to the capped chauffeur, closing the partition for privacy as I glared at him stunned. “You’re a caveman King” I screamed in annoyance at my partial kidnap, the throbbing between my legs alerting me to the disconcerting fact that I’d also found it a major turn on. “You have no fucking idea” he grinned wickedly. Sexy, irritating bastard I thought, as we stared each other out.

  “I want to talk about us, Smith. But firstly, why on earth are you pitching eggs?” A statement which immediately got my defences up. There was one reason I was reduced to pitching pre boiled eggs and he was sat right in front of me. “Because I can’t afford to be a glory hunter King when you keep outpitching me. It’s not getting me anywhere, ask Ian Anderson” I spat back coldly, as he studied me closely. “I’ll help you with the pitch if you hear me out”. “Fine” I replied, trying to sound a lot more nonplussed than I actually was. I may get my answers and I’d hit a brick wall with the eggs, I bet he could even make those sound deliciously sexy. He was the best there was and I needed his help, but he wasn’t about to get it all on his own terms.

  “What’s the deal with the supermodel King, are you fucking her?” “No” he said sternly, offering no more detail, as I pulled a scowl in exasperation, irritated and gazing out of the window at the familiar London sights.

  “Are you going to go to another party Charlotte?” he asked gently as I turned to look at him. My initial decision had been to go for Jason, but I couldn’t deny I was intrigued and wanted to explore the opportunity. Our recent encounters had reminded me exactly what I’d been missing for the last twelve months and there was no way I was about to leave it as long again. “Yes” I answered, certain that someday I would, unsure where the conversation was going, my stomach somersaulting with the small hope he may have changed his mind. But I couldn’t rule out the possibility that he was simply revelling in my prolonged irritation and frustration.

  “I have a lot of reservations about introducing you to this lifestyle Charlotte” and his voice was low and firm as I turned to face him, stunned by the level of genuine honesty and openness etched across his dark, handsome features. “I’ve only done it once before and it didn’t end well” he said, deep blue pools burning into mine as I looked at him puzzled. “Why?”

  He gazed at me for a long time before addressing me again. “I can’t go into details, it’s not my confidence to share. I promised myself that I’d never, ever do it again, but the thought of you at a party with someone else...” He couldn’t finish the sentence and my heart flipped as I swallowed hard. I didn’t know the details but I knew he was torn and I saw my chance. I was desperate not to be humiliated again, but I craved the feelings he gave me more than I valued my pride right now.

  Something about the look in his eyes betrayed a deep hurt. He wasn’t being King, arrogant and cocksure, and I knew in that instant he needed this as much as I did, only neither of us could say it albeit for different reasons. “Slowly?” I asked simply, a thousand questions encompassed in one simple word as I held his gaze. The conflict and tension etched across his brow was palpable. “Fucking Hell Charlotte I swore I would never...” and that was as far as he got before he was across the car, his mouth possessing me aggressively, pulling away from me just long enough to growl “home” into the speaker system and we were lost, kissing fiercely, limbs entwined and he didn’t release me until the car stopped. He helped me out, guiding me, his strong firm hand on the small of my back as we ascended the familiar brown stone steps of his elegant Victorian town house.

  Chapter 7

  “You’re slightly more friendly than the last time you were here” he grinned as I followed him into the front room giggling. “I wanted to tie you up on that couch, gag your smart mouth and fuck you into submission for your attitude” he smiled wickedly as I gasped, gazing up at him, slightly shocked but undeniably turned on. “Maybe I’ll do it tonight” he winked, licking his lips as I followed the trace of his tongue across his soft full mouth “but first we need to talk. If we are going to do this, we are doing it right Charlotte”. I nodded, hoping we could make the chat part quick.

  “You haven’t done this before so I presume you don’t really know what you’re into yet” he said firmly as I shook my head, gazing at him wide eyed. “Have you done any research Charlotte?” he said eyeing me intently. “A little” I admitted as he nodded. “Good. Is there anything that you’ve seen that you definitely don’t want to try, a hard limit?” he said and his tone was so serious I was finding it hard not to giggle.

  “Nothing that draws blood, and I’m not sure about whips and canes”. He wasn’t laughing, just gazing at me and taking it all on board and my stomach flipped, exploding with a thousand butterflies as it suddenly dawned on me that we were actually going to do this. Me and King. “Anything else?” he smiled encouraging me to continue. “Yes those rubber masks that cover the whole face with the zips. I’m way too claustrophobic for those” I whispered, which raised a smile. “You’re far too beautiful to be covered with a mask Sweetheart” he laughed gently. “I think that’s it then. Everything else I’m willing to try. I guess I’ll just have to suck it and see” I smiled, his eyes burning into mine. “What a delightful thought” he grinned broadly.

  “This whole thing is based on trust Charlotte and I will push you and test your limits and you are new to this. You have to communicate your feelings with me and I promise I will look after you and take it slowly, OK?” I nodded, desperate to be in his arms again and see just how good Jason King could be. If past experience was anything to go by, I would not be disappointed, the man was an expert at doling out pleasure.

  The hardest thing would be to suspend my preconceived beliefs enough to dive in, and trust that he knew what he was doing.

  “You’ll need to pick a safe word, something to use that will make me stop if it goes too far, something you wouldn’t use during sex” he smiled as I smiled back. “Mercedes” I grinned as he quirked an eyebrow at me. “You got the pitch?” he laughed, genuinely delighted as I nodded happily. “Good girl” he whispered, tracing his finger under the hem of my skirt and over the tops of my stockings as I gasped audibly, parting my legs to allow him access and raising my mouth to his. “Maybe that deserves a treat” he grinned, sliding his hand further up my thighs as I opened myself to him, moaning as his fingers explored me, his mouth possessing mine, before he pulled away leaving me gasping and panting for more.

  “But first I’ve got to deal with your rude behaviour. Stand up” he ordered as I swallowed hard. “The last time you were here Charlotte, your behaviour was unacceptable” he said sternly, his eyes burning so deeply into me, I felt it in my core, shuddering deliciously under the intensity. “Tonight you will make up for it. Take off your clothes”. I stood, part of me wondering what the hell I was doing, the other part desperate to please the beautiful alpha male who was radiating sexual intensity from every pore and towering over me.

  Normally I would come back with an icy retort, but I had agreed to leave ‘Smith’ at the door in this whole thing and concentrated every effort I had to blank out our past, and my attitude, and submit to his demands the best I could. I hoped it would be worth it.

  I undid the buttons one by one, slowly a
nd provocatively, following the trail of his tongue across his bottom lip as he watched me closely. His stance had shifted and I had never seen him look so brooding, so magnificent. He was different to the Jason of our first encounter that had seen us lustful and frenzied, and much less tender than the Jason I had witnessed in the creative space. He was controlled, powerful and utterly dominant and I had never been so turned on.

  I stood there silently as my dress fell to the floor and he walked around me slowly, assessing me carefully, my skin igniting under his intense gaze as he studied every inch of me, eyes dark and his lips curved slightly in appreciation as he ran his finger gently over the curves of my breasts and I was desperate for him. In his office, I had yanked him to me by his tie, but today was different.

  He was in control, he was making the decisions and as my shallow breathing got slowly louder, I knew I had to wait, to be patient and follow his lead. The feeling of submission was unique and slightly intoxicating, in such contrast to my everyday life, and if the deep arousal between my thighs was anything to go by, I was already enjoying the hell out of it.

  He moved behind me slowly, unclipping my bra and sliding it off me, reaching around to cup my breasts omitting a low moan of desire, and I gasped as he grazed his expert fingers over my nipples and pinched them hard, nuzzling into the side of my neck and kissing my throat. It was slow, considered and deliberate and the pulsing between my legs was extreme as he caressed and pinched my tender breasts mercilessly.

  “When you were last here, you walked out, didn’t you Charlotte?” and I nodded, moaning under the intensity of his delicious attention to my hard nipples, pleasure tinged with pain, igniting me like nothing I had known before.