by Stacia Stone
If the overweight security guard sitting at a little podium near to the door as he flipped through a bodybuilding magazine noticed me at all, I'd be hard pressed to say.
What if I was here to kill him, was my darkly morbid thought. There wouldn't be anything standing in my way. Of course, I wasn't here to kill Julian.
I wasn't letting him off that easy.
The elevator climbed the floors agonizingly slowly, stopping at nearly every floor as people got on and off. Some of them glanced at me where I stood in the corner of the elevator with my crossed over my chest and glared off into space.
Whatever they saw in my face clearly didn't merit comment and they quickly turned away, smashing the button for their floor, obviously eager to escape quickly.
I'd never felt like this before, like I could do anything. I'd burn the building down around us if that was what it took.
"Dalea?"
I broke through the haze of angry determination to see Trina staring at me, her expression wide-eyed and confused. The door was already closing behind her before I could decide between shoving her off of the elevator or escaping myself.
"Hey, Trina."
"How're things going? You just disappeared after that first day, I heard you were transferred."
I glanced above us to the display that slowly counted the floors. We were still over a dozen away which was plenty of time for me to be caught by her questions.
"It was something like that."
"Is everything okay."
I pretended to consider that. "I'd have to say definitely not, but I'm working on it."
She raised her eyebrows. "I don't understand. Do you still work here?"
I pursed my lips and tilted my head to look at her. I liked Trina. We had a history together and she'd helped me out when she didn't have to. But right now, she was a distraction that I didn't need.
"No, I don't work here anymore and I haven't since the last day you saw me."
"Dalea, what are you talking about?" She turned to look at the array of buttons on saw that only the one she'd depressed and the top floor were lit. "Where are you going?"
I smiled serenely. "I'm going up to Julian Berkmore-Hathaway's office, locking us both inside and beating him mercilessly until he begs for his mother."
The shocked look on her face was almost enough to make everything worth it.
She sputtered a bit, obviously searching for an appropriate response to my outrageous declaration. "Are you insane?"
"By now, definitely." I glanced up at the display and hit the button for the next floor. When the door dinged open, I grabbed her an impromptu hug. "I'm sorry, really. Come visit me if I go to jail for assault and battery."
I stepped off the elevator just as the doors closed so she couldn't follow me. It was better that I didn't make it her problem to try and stop me. She shouldn't have to get in trouble for me.
The stairwell was next to the elevators and I pushed open the door, bounding up as quickly as I could. It had been reckless to tell Trina what I was up to. I didn't want Julian to have any warning. Although by now, the fake Velasquez's had likely already told him that the jig was up.
Two flights of stairs stood between me and the top floor. I took them quickly, ignoring pangs from the muscles in my legs. I knew I'd be out of breath by the time I got to the top but there was no stopping me now.
Julian's secretary was sitting behind the desk in front of his office. She was blonde and thin with light makeup that was just artful enough to make it clear she'd spent hours to make it look like she had nothing on.
I wondered if he was fucking her. The thought made me angry — at myself for caring and at him for making me care.
When I strode past her, the receptionist made some sort of strangled protest, but I ignored her. Thankfully, the frosted glass doors leading to his inner sanctum weren't locked. I would have looked more than foolish banging on them like a beggar hoping to be let in from the cold.
My eyes scanned the room, spying the empty desk. It hadn't occurred to me that he wouldn't be here. How stupid was I going to look forcing my way in here and then being dragged out without even getting the pleasure of kicking him in the balls first.
Life was cruel.
But no, there he was. Standing casually by the long window and staring out over the city as if he didn't have a care in the world.
The blonde receptionist came up sharply behind me, nearly bowling me over. She obviously hadn't expected me to stop short in the doorway.
"Mr. Berkmore-Hathaway, I am so sorry. She just barged in."
I resisted the urge to shove the woman right off of her tottering heels when she gripped my arm, obviously intending to forcibly drag me out of the room.
"It's all right, Meredith." Julian did turn then and I had to resist the answering clench low in my belly when his gaze met mine. "Just shut the door."
The shocked surprise on her face almost made me like him again. I wanted to say bye, Meredith in my best bitch voice but resisted the urge. I didn't actually want the police to be called.
Julian moved to sit at the expansive desk, his movements leisurely and restrained as if we were sitting down for a business meeting. Powerful hands clasped in front of him and rested on the desk. Hands that were capable of providing exquisite pleasure and pain.
I shivered and immediately suppressed the erotic thoughts that ran through my mind. Forcing myself to drive away the memory of his fingers on my skin.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He raised an eyebrow at the question, unmoved by the vitriol in my voice. "Are you making a list?"
"Was it someone from the adoption agency?" I asked sharply, ignoring his laconic question. "Or are you tapping my phone."
Julian picked up the blotter from his desk and moved it to the side. "I've made a number of donations over the years to the free clinic."
"I'm pretty sure there still not supposed to give out patient information."
"I didn't ask for your information, just a list of the adoption agencies that they normally offer to patients."
I scoffed. "And you just knew which one that I'd pick?"
His voice was silky soft. "I'm very thorough."
The thought stopped me cold. Would he really place plants with every adoption agency in the city, just to ensure that I'd choose a couple that would hand my baby directly over to him.
"You're sick."
Julian ignored me. He was busy at the desk, moving objects — pens, a picture frame and other items — from the center to the sides until a large space was cleared directly in front of him.
I watched him in confusion, the fight draining out of me at his methodical movements. It was difficult to maintain my anger when he was so controlled. It made me feel like a stereotypical woman, hysterical while he regarded me with cold amusement.
"What are you doing?" I asked, unable to stand the silence.
He leaned back and gestured to the empty space on the desk in front of him. "Come sit here."
I shuddered slightly and knew he saw the movement. "Fuck off."
"That would be the idea."
The erotic threat in his voice nearly undid me. I swayed towards him in an infinitesimal movement before I caught myself.
His dark chuckle told me he knew exactly what his voice did to me. But I wasn't going to give into him that easily. This wasn't about sex, it was about every other way that he couldn't give me what I needed.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, anger warring with desire and something more.
"I told you a long time ago that I wouldn't let you run from me."
"I'm not running." I glared at him. "You sent me away, remember. You're the one who can't admit what you feel about me."
"That was a mistake."
"What was a mistake, sending me away or refusing to admit that you love me?"
His expression shuttered, hiding whatever emotion simmered underneath the surface. "Come here."
"No. I'm not doi
ng this with you anymore." The hurt and sorrow that I'd so carefully hidden behind bravado threatened to overwhelm me. "I'm not your plaything."
"Don't make me ask you again, Dalea. If you force me to come and get you, I will make you regret it."
"Your secretary is outside," I whispered, aware enough to know that I was losing this battle.
He moved to stand and I rushed forward, acutely aware of how creative he could be in his punishments. Because I had walked right into this, hadn't I? I was the idiot fly who strolled into the spider's web like she owned the place. Now I was trapped and I had no one to blame but myself.
Julian slid back in the chair as I maneuvered between him and the desk, the wheels of his office chair moving silently along the floor. I gingerly lifted myself onto the edge of the desk, my legs shaking.
But he didn't touch me. He still reclined in the chair, his pose relaxed and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world.
"Spread your legs."
I hesitated and he slapped the outside of my thigh, hard enough that I felt it even through the tights I wore under my sweater dress.
"You're not my plaything, is that what you said?" He slid his hands up the sheer nylon covering my legs. The heat of his touch through the thin fabric was nearly enough to send me over the edge. "Allow me to suggest an alternative hypothesis."
In a harsh movement, he ripped my tights at the waist until they fell away from me in tattered strips of fabric and floated to the floor.
"I'm going to be over you and inside of you and you're going to be whatever I want you to be."
"You could have anyone."
Julian pinched the skin of my inner thigh and I jumped. "I want you."
"But you don't love me."
He stood abruptly and I shrank back, suddenly afraid of the intense expression that had descended over his features. Wrapping a fist in my hair, he wrenched my head back and pressed sharp teeth into the curve of my neck.
"I love the feel of your pussy when its wrapped around my cock. I love tying you up and paddling your bottom until you beg me to stop. I love the idea of wrapping my hands around the throat of any man who's ever touched you." He bit the curve of my jaw and I yelped. He immediately sucked on the tender spot to chase away the slight pain. "I love that I'm going to be able to watch you grow my child in your belly. "
And what was the word for that if not love, I thought blearily as his hands roamed over me. He laid teeth-sharpened kisses along the column of my throat and up my cheek.
I looked down at the hand kneading rhythmically on my bare thigh. "Where's your wedding ring?"
His voice was barely audible through his low growl. "I took it off."
He might never say it, I realized with the suddenness of a lightning strike. But that didn't mean that he didn't feel it.
My hands rose to cup his face and he pulled back far enough to look into my eyes.
"Someday I'm going to make you say it," I whispered.
"And today I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight. But first—“ He yanked me off the table and into his arms. Before I could mount any sort of defense, he was seated in the chair with me draped facedown over his lap. "I think we should discuss your disrespectful tone."
I flailed my legs experimentally but my resistance was rewarded by sharp slaps on the backs of my thighs. His grip remained as strong as iron. I felt the first curl of fear as his hand smoothed up my bare thigh and flipped up my wool skirt. He kept his legs wide so there was no pressure directly on my belly.
A shiver worked over me as his fingertips traced along the edge of my cotton panties. In an easy movement, he pulled down my underwear so that my backside was exposed to the cool air.
How could something feel safe and terrifying at the same time?
I forced myself not to think about the fact that his secretary was just on the other side of the doors.
"Would you like to keep count, or shall I?"
I didn't answer quickly enough and another punishing slap landed on my bare thigh.
"You count," I gasped.
"If you insist, though I have been feeling easily distracted lately. I'm sure that I'll figure it out somewhere around fifty."
"I'll count, sir," I amended quickly. "Please."
And I did, dutifully rattling off the numbers until the entirety of my ass and thighs felt like it was on fire.
I was crying by the end of it — tears of pain, shameful pleasure and relief, because I was back in his arms again. I almost hated myself for how much I wanted him. But I'd tried to get away and what good had it done me?
"Say you'll never leave me again," he commanded.
"I'll never leave," I repeated and was rewarded with a hard slap to my upper thigh.
"And whose baby are you carrying?"
"Yours," came my gasping reply.
"Tell me you'll do whatever I want."
"I'll do whatever you want, sir."
That last seemed to send Julian into a frenzy. He didn't bother with more words, devoting himself fully to punishing my backside. Each strike of his hand was like catharsis. I felt myself loosening and relaxing into the pain of it.
For better or worse, I was home.
His hands turned soothing, moving in gentle circles from the center of my back and down to my thighs.
"Always such a good girl." He gently touched my cheek and caught a tear on the tip of his finger. "Are you ready for your reward?"
I let him pick me up and set me back on the edge of the desk, my body heavy-limbed and malleable. What was left of my stockings and my underwear were still pulled low on my legs and he pushed them all the way down so I was completely bare from the waist down.
Julian stood so his body slid between my spread legs and his still clothed erection pressed into me. He kissed me hard as his hands worked quickly at the fly of his pants.
"What about your secretary?" I murmured as his lips slid over my cheek and down to my chin. I was barely able to think but the fear of being discovered in this very compromising position was enough to temper the edge of my desire.
He bit gently at the lobe of my ear. “She knows better than to disturb us. Relax."
And then he pushed his way inside of me and I lost my ability for rational thought. We moved together in the hushed, semi-dark of his office. He obviously liked working in low light. The only illumination was the desk lamp that cast our long shadows on the wall.
I wondered distantly if he'd set up the mood lighting on purpose. Would his receptionist be able to see our dark shadows moving through the frosted glass. We were still mostly clothed but the dance of our bodies moving together was unmistakable.
"Stop thinking so much," he growled into my ear.
Julian gripped my hips hard enough that it would probably leave a bruise and pounded into me. My hands wrapped around his shoulders as he forced our bodies together. I wanted to shove off his suit jacket and rip off the crisp dress shirt underneath, but he left me no room to maneuver.
I tried to grind against him, do something to increase the friction but he held me nearly immobile — merely a receptacle for his pleasure.
That thought — so dirty and demeaning — is what sent me over the edge into screaming orgasm.
I clung to him as waves of pleasure rolled over me and I had the nearly-lucid thought that I would do anything to stay right here forever.
Epilogue
"Daddy!"
Lucas wobbled on short legs across the polished wood floor toward the tall figure that had just stepped through the front door. The toddler firmly attached himself to his father's legs.
Julian swept his son up into his arms as our son’s laughter filled the penthouse apartment. Even after almost two years, the sight of them together still caused my chest to go tight and made me breathless.
Julian tilted Lucas so that the boy rested on his hip and smiled at me, making my knees go weak.
"Dora! Dora!" Lucas began to shout, pointing chubby arms at the fla
t screen television. I knew exactly what the little minx was trying to do.
"Don't let him fool you," I murmured as I approached them and Julian placed a chaste kiss on my cheek. "It's time for his nap."
"No nap!"
"I'll take him." Julian grinned over his son's escalating protests. "You look like you could use a break."
I collapsed onto the couch as he carried the struggling child in the direction of his bedroom. I was relieved that Julian had managed to come home early, it seemed like I was spending more and more time alone recently. I loved Lucas and being a mother, but sometimes chasing after a crazed toddler was more than I had the energy to deal with. And it didn't leave much time for Julian and I to be alone together.
Although it wasn't as if I had anything to complain about. My mother's cancer was in complete remission. I had managed to finish my degree, taking classes online and doing my homework at night when Julian was home to watch Lucas. And I sent enough money home that my brother was able to quit working at the restaurant and focus on his own education.
And Julian had turned out to be a more devoted father than I could ever have imagined. He was patient and loving and I could see the joy in his eyes every time his gaze rested on his son.
I leaned against the couch, lightly dozing and enjoying the rare moment of respite. Eventually, I would have to get up and start putting something together for dinner.
It was funny to me that the popular saying advised against turning hoes into housewives, because it seemed like I was way better at one than the other. I giggled at the thought.
"What's funny?"
Strong hands coasted up my sides and I felt my arms being lifted and pinned over my head. I opened my eyes to see Julian's beautifully stern face floating above mine.
A familiar shudder ran through me at the feel of his skin on mine. "I was just thinking that I make a terrible housewife."
He pinned me back against the cushions with the force of his body. "Maybe I like the idea of you here waiting for me…barefoot and pregnant."
"Oh, not this again."
His leg slid easily between mine and pressed hard against the throbbing heat at my very core. "I want another one."