by Olivia Chase
Oh Jesus, she is talking about me. A slow smile creases my face, and I cross my arms and lean against the wall across from the bathroom.
“Shit, I gotta go. We’re gonna take off soon.” A pause. “No, I’m not touching him. There’s this little thing called ‘sexual harassment.’ Not a good way to start my first day on the job.” Another long pause, then a laugh. “Shush. Love you, Daria. I’ll text about how things go.”
I step away from the door and go to the far end of the plane to fix myself a drink and process the information I just learned. So Andrea was a fan of me after all. She just didn’t want to give it away. And she had a poster of me. Fuck if that isn’t making my own need and desire for her boil out of control.
I can admit it now—I’m overcome with wanting her. She’s so naïve, innocent, yet sexy and fuckable, and I want to bury my face in her tits…and between her silken thighs. I’m fighting my instincts, hard. I’m way too messed up from my past, from my demons, to ever be anything but a quick fling for this woman. And I’ve always subscribed to the theory that you don’t shit where you eat.
But God help me, my discipline and will are failing me now when I need them the most. Hearing her admit her attraction to me, it’s overwhelming my resistance.
When I turn around, coffee in hand, Andrea is making her way to a seat. Her cheeks are bright red, and she isn’t looking at me. Her plump lower lip is so round and tempting. Everything about her is calling to me.
She’s shy, but she’s definitely aware of me. I can see a pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. Her fingers are clenched hard, and she’s pressing her thighs together. She aches too.
Fuck.
Against my better judgment, I sit next to her and strap myself in. She stiffens, and her jaw tilts up as she stares straight ahead. I like how she tries to hold herself together. But I know her secret now. I can see the rapid rise and fall of those magnificent tits.
The flight attendant gives us her spiel, and then we’re rolling down the runway and left alone.
“You lied,” I find myself saying.
That gets her attention. She looks over at me. “Pardon?”
A half smile curves my mouth. “You said Boston was your favorite team.”
I can see the moment the oh, shit look crosses Andrea’s face. She knows I heard her. She closes her eyes and sucks in a shaky breath.
“You were aware of me during my pitching days,” I continue.
“Yes,” she manages to get out. Her lips are parted, and her chest is rising and falling with her rapid inhales and exhales. She clenches her thighs. Her nipples are hard.
Fuck. Me. I want to draw one of those rigid buds into my mouth so badly right now. I can practically smell her arousal. She’s pushing me closer to the abyss.
“Have you ever fantasized about me?” The question slips out, and there’s no going back.
Andrea swallows and doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, except for her lips parting even more.
I lean toward her, and her body melts at my proximity. Fuck. “It’s a simple question,” I reply. “Yes or no.”
Her eyes drift open, and she turns to look at me. “Yes,” she admits softly.
“How many times?”
She shakes her head and her gaze tears away from mine. That delicious flush on her cheeks deepens. My dick is swollen and my blood is roaring louder than the jet engines.
“More than a dozen?”
Andrea squirms and sucks in a rapid breath. I can tell she’s turned on by the way her body is responding to me, but she is too afraid to admit it. Her hands are admitting it though—they’re rubbing her thighs in small circles, inching closer to her apex. Oh, she’s fucking aroused as hell, and I can’t let it go.
I lean even closer until my lips are brushing the delicate flesh of her ear. “I’m going to whisper what I think you fantasized about. I want you to touch yourself just the way you used to, when you’d lie in bed staring at my poster on the wall.”
Her eyes close and her head falls back as she responds beautifully to my coaxing. She tugs her skirt up her thighs, exposing the beautiful golden flesh to me. Her panties have to be soaked—I can smell the scent of her wetness.
“I think you used to imagine me coming to you, sliding my hands up your legs and spreading you wide open for me.” I don’t touch her other than my lips against her ear. I suddenly need her to do this. “You think about what my mouth would feel like on your pussy, my fingers diving into you and curling in that way that gives you such delicious pleasure.”
Andrea shudders, and one hand grips her thigh. The other slides to her apex. I can see her fingers working as she touches herself. I’m so fucking hard and hungry for her that I could scream.
“I want to lick you,” I find myself saying. “Suck that hard clit into my mouth, grab your ass and keep you wide open for me.”
“Yes,” she murmurs as her fingers fly faster. I can hear the juicy sounds of her wetness now. I want to touch her. I know she wants me to touch her too.
“Someday soon, I’m going to do exactly what you’ve been dreaming of. I’m going to do all of it. But not yet. No, right now, I want you to push yourself over the edge for me. I want that orgasm. It’s mine.” The words are little more than a growl now, but I’m barely holding on to my control.
I can’t remember the last time I craved something as much as I crave her coming for me. I want to lick her fingers clean when she’s done, but I can’t lose my last shred of restraint, despite my impulses.
“Are you swollen for me, Andrea?” I murmur. “Are you going to explode thinking about all the wicked ways I could please you?”
“Oh God,” she says in a strained whisper, and then her whole body tenses and I can tell she’s over the edge. She’s clamped her mouth shut to keep from crying out, but the veins in her neck are prominent, and her back is arched.
Watching her fall apart so beautifully, I vow that next time, I’ll be the one taking it from her.
It’s taking everything in me to keep from shoving that skirt all the way up and plunging my cock into her. Again and again until she creams all over me.
Finally she stops shaking, and her breathing seems to get back to normal. Andrea nudges her skirt back down and gives me a wide-eyed look. I can read all the questions in her eyes—and I have the same questions too.
A big line has been crossed, but it’s clear neither of us knows what it means, or can really even process it.
What do we do now?
Andrea
Holy. Hell. I’m so flustered by what just happened that I don’t even know how to wrap my mind around it.
Did I really just do that? Masturbate in front of my longtime crush—and boss? Thinking about all the naughty things I want him to do to me? Listening to his voice in my ear as I exposed myself and came for him?
It’s so difficult to remain cool when I’m torn between hiding in the bathroom for the rest of the trip and jumping all over him.
My first day of work, and I’ve already crossed a line. Where will things go from here? Will he hold to what he promised—to do all that and more with me?
Ryker grabs his laptop and works on a spreadsheet quietly beside me. I can’t tell if he’s trying to give me space to get myself together or if it really didn’t faze him as much as it did me.
I can smell me on my fingers though. And I bet he can smell me too. I’m both mortified and even more turned on by the thought of him scenting me. So dirty. I barely even recognize myself.
I can’t believe he overheard my conversation in the bathroom. That’s what I get for calling Daria and checking in with her. I should have waited until I got to my hotel room. But if I had, that wouldn’t have happened. And even if it’s insane, I’m glad it did. I’m going to fantasize about that for a long time to come.
God, he’s insanely sexy. And I work for him. Where is this going to go? And where would I even want it to go?
The flight attendant brings me a coffee, and I’m gla
d for something to focus on. I open one of the magazines in the seat pocket in front of me and flip through it idly.
“Here,” Ryker says, handing me a folder. “Information on Cade Thompson. Study up on this before we meet him for dinner. Normally this will be emailed to you, but we don’t have you set up yet, so I printed a copy.”
I give him a grateful smile—both for helping me go in more educated and giving me something else to think about besides how absurdly hot he is. “Will do.” I pore myself into the material. Study his stats, his background, the news clippings Ryker included gushing about Cade’s potential.
Impressive stuff. He’s only in his twenties as well, but he’s making a name for himself. Enough that Ryker is interested in him. I can see why. He’s attractive and wholesome, and he’s on the rise.
The flight lands, and we exit the plane and hop in another limo. As someone who only rode in a limo once in her entire life—senior prom—I can’t believe I’ve been in one twice today.
My family would be shitting bricks if they could see me now.
I sent them a text message last night letting them know I got the job. My brothers gave me generic congrats. My dad at least was a bit warmer, though he makes sure to caution me about being on time and other menial things I already know. Mom was the warmest, gushing that she couldn’t wait to tell her friends.
We ride to a posh hotel and are dropped off. California is full-on sunny and warm today, and I can’t help but be riveted by the sight of the ocean right behind the hotel. Unreal. Guess it’s good to be a billionaire. I grip my two carry-on bags and follow Ryker inside. He strolls in to the front desk and the clerk waves him right over.
“Mr. Baldwin,” the man gushes as he takes Ryker’s bags and then mine. “We’re so glad to have you back. We have your usual suite, plus the one next door for Miss Bradshaw.” No standing at the front desk waiting in line to be checked in. They practically rolled out the red carpet for him.
“I’m a regular here,” Ryker murmurs as we walk behind the clerk. We get in the elevator, which is probably the fanciest one I’ve ever seen. It’s posh and brass and covered in expensive fabrics and mirrors. Hell, I could probably sleep in here and be happy and comfortable.
When we get to the top floor, we head left. Ryker strolls toward the door of the room he must use often, and the clerk whips out a card key and offers it to him.
“Meet me back here at four,” Ryker says. “Lunch is on your own. I have work to catch up on. Matthew will show you to your room.” It’s like nothing happened between us on the plane. Boss Ryker is back.
I keep my chin high. I can do that too. “Will do.”
Ryker digs into his wallet and hands me a wad of bills. “To cover your expenses while you’re here in case you decide to not eat in the hotel. If you do, charge it to your room.”
I can see hundreds folded in his hand and blanch. “Um, it’s fine. I don’t need that much.”
He sighs and takes my hand, dropping the money in there. “Be back here at four,” he repeats, then turns and goes into his room.
Okay then. I flush as I tuck the wad into my purse and follow Matthew to the room next door.
When he opens the door for me, a small gasp escapes my mouth. “This…is for me?”
It’s incredible.
The room is massive, with a fireplace tucked in the corner. The floor-to-ceiling windows show a magnificent view of the ocean. The bed is the biggest I’ve ever seen. The fabrics are creamy and decadent, with tasteful décor.
“We’re pleased you like the suite,” Matthew says as he hands me the key card.
I reach into my purse to pull out money for him, the way I’ve seen people tip in the movies. But he waves me off.
“Mr. Baldwin takes care of us generously,” he says with a smile. “If you need anything, here’s my direct cell phone.” He hands me a business card. “You’re welcome to have lunch delivered here, or we can have a table ready for you.”
“I’d like to eat down there,” I say. When am I going to get this chance to people watch again? Though I’m tempted to stay holed up in this incredible room, I want to see more of the hotel.
Matthew makes a reservation for me and then leaves.
First, I explore my room. Suite. This place is crazy big. The bathroom is larger than my apartment, and the tub beckons me. Oh, I’m taking a nice, hot soak tonight in there. I lay out my fresh clothes and hop in the shower.
It’s sheer luxury. I’ve never felt so pampered in my life. I know I’m only experiencing this because I’m tagging along with Ryker, but I’m humbled and overwhelmed. Will I ever be a big enough agent to warrant this type of treatment, or anything close?
I snort as I lather my hair. Not likely. He’s also a billionaire, I remind myself. He’s offering a fair base salary that’ll pay my expenses, but the bulk of my income will be commission-based. And that means working my ass off to get those clients.
I’m gonna charm the socks off Cade Thompson and show him why he should work with our company. This is one helluva chance I’m being given, and I’ll prove to Ryker why he was right to hire me.
When I’m done and showered off, I fix my hair and makeup, get in my clean clothes, and head downstairs with the folder on Cade. Perfect chance to review it more over lunch.
I spend the next hour and a half memorizing everything I can about Cade. I use my phone to look up more interviews with him and to see what sports channels have had to say about his potential.
The food is fantastic. I ordered a chicken sandwich and fries—sorry, pomme frites—and devour it as I read. I’m already envisioning what sorts of endorsement deals we could get that would be suitable for Cade. I could easily see him doing a sports drink or sneaker commercial.
Ryker’s probably thought about all of this though. I remind myself to not get ahead of my level. I’m here as his assistant and to learn, not to butt in. He’ll likely not appreciate that. So I take notes in the margins and write down ideas that might be useful, but I’ll keep mum unless I feel the opportunity is there to share my thoughts.
After lunch, I slip the folder into my bag and stroll around. Head to the beach behind the hotel and savor the feel of sand between my toes. Watch families together, smiling and laughing and loving.
A small pang hits my chest. I never had that. I know my family loves me, but I’ve never felt like I measured up, like I was good enough. My two brothers, on the other hand, could do no wrong in my father’s eyes. Because they happened to be born with penises, whereas I was not.
Well, who cares? I’m here, on my first day at my dream job in California of all places. I’m going to travel. Going to meet famous sports stars. Going to make dreams come true—for me and my clients.
I let the thought buoy me as I meander around, then head back to the room to freshen up before meeting Ryker at four.
When I knock on his door, my stomach is jittery. I don’t know why. It’s not like he’s going to bring up what happened on the plane. It almost seems like I dreamed it.
The door opens, and he gives me a nod of approval, then lets me in. We sit in the living room area and have a quick meeting, discussing what he expects of me. Which is basically to smile and be friendly and personable. We want Cade to see what kind of treatment he’d get with us if he signed with our agency.
As he’s talking, my nerves grow stronger and stronger. I’m really doing this. And now I’m anxious as hell. What if I mess this up somehow? Ryker would fire me. Plus I’d bear the guilt of knowing I caused more damage to his company.
He eyes me. “You okay?”
I swallow and nod. Fake it ‘til you make it. Paste on a smile. “Totally fine.”
Ryker gets up from the chair across from me and slides beside me on the couch. I feel the heat of his thigh pressing against mine, and I’m reminded of earlier today. I draw my lower lip between my teeth and try to maintain my cool. “I know what you’re feeling,” he says. “Your first meeting is intense as hell. I ran to
the bathroom and puked halfway through.”
I blink. “Whoa.”
“Thankfully there was mouthwash,” he said in a wry tone. “Came back to the table and signed him. Use your nerves as energy. You’re going to be fine. I’ll do most of the talking. Just watch what I say and do. This is a good learning opp.”
I’m touched by his effort to help me feel more relaxed and comfortable. “Thank you,” I murmur. The fact that he understands and isn’t embarrassing me about it eases my anxiety some. “You ready?”
Ryker stands and offers me his hand, tugging me toward him. I’m scant inches away. Those brilliant eyes pierce me, and I find my breath catching in my lungs again. He seems to impact me this way, making it hard to breathe. To think.
Off balance, but deliciously so.
“Let’s go,” Ryker says. “It’s game time.”
Cade Thompson looks in person just like he does online and in pictures. No, actually, he looks better. Dusty blond hair, tanned skin, blue eyes. He’s a strapping all-American guy who seems like someone straight out of the 1950’s. Even his choice of a polo shirt and jeans reflect this style.
I can see why Ryker’s eager to get him on our list.
Cade is standing near the bar, sipping on a soda. Not even a beer. God, is this guy for real?
“Cade,” Ryker proclaims as we walk over to his side.
He spins around and faces us. The two men clap backs as they man hug. Then his gaze lands on me. “Ma’am,” he says in a slow drawl, giving me a nod of acknowledgment. He holds out his hand, and I take it in a firm shake. “So pleased to meet ya.”
I like him instantly. The discomfort and anxiety I felt earlier melts away. “I’m pleased to meet you too.”
Cade smiles at Ryker. “Y’all wanna go have a seat and talk?”
“Would love to.” Ryker’s smile is so big it’s all teeth. His whole persona has changed. He’s relaxed, warm, but definitely in control. It’s interesting to see him shift. Is this what he’s really like, or is he just putting it on to make Cade feel comfortable?