“Which one?”
I shifted my gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Loosening the buckle on her utility belt, I nudged Collette toward the desk with my hips. Then I dropped to my knees and unzipped her boots. Everything came off in quick succession and soon she was completely naked, backlit by the city lights.
Taking advantage of this position, I spread her thighs and brought my mouth to her center. Her head kicked back on a groan. “You always taste so good.” Unlike the last time I’d given attention to this area of her body, I took my time. Oral was only as good as the guy who gave it. If he rushed, the experience wasn’t as satisfying. But if he took his time and properly worshiped his woman, she would be more than willing to show her gratitude in other ways.
Like letting him fuck her against a window.
Using my lips and tongue, I teased her folds and flicked her clit. Then I sucked on the little bundle of nerves, humming as her thighs quaked. Her hands scrabbled for purchase as the tremors intensified, one landing on my shoulder and the other fisting in my hair. “Two,” I growled as she cried out, frantically unfastening my belt.
I half-dragged her over to the windows and raised her arms, placing her palms on a thick pane. “Hurry,” she pleaded as I whipped off my shirt and shucked my pants and boxers. “Need you so badly, Ryan.”
“I know, sweetheart.” I rolled on a condom and took myself in hand, kicking her feet further apart. This would be fast and hard, the only way to satisfy the beast she’d unleashed. My tip met her opening, and with one smooth thrust, I was fully seated. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that. You know how much I like it.” I braced myself with one hand on the sill for leverage, watching as I slid out of her. Reaching down, I circled her clit to help her along. My pace increased, and I grunted as our flesh slapped together every time I drove into her.
“Close,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the single syllable. Her ass bobbed as she met me move for move. Damp handprints decorated the window, outlined in white from her hot breath clashing with the cold surface.
With every single stroke came the risk of blowing my load. Sheer male pride and willpower I didn’t realize I possessed held the urges at bay. But they, too, would fail me if I didn’t take drastic measures. Soon.
Time to pull her trigger.
“Sweet, dirty girl,” I whispered in her ear, nipping the shell. “What would people think if they saw your tits smashed up against the glass? Would you care if we had an audience? I don’t think so. You’re too far gone to give a damn. Too full of cock to notice anyone but me.”
She moaned, her knees wobbling as they turned to jelly. Her inner walls clenched, and my balls drew up in response. The intimate hug broke the last of my willpower.
“Three.” I barely got the word out before my own orgasm hit. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled down my spine. Her name echoed off the walls, my fingers digging into her hips as I jerked involuntarily.
We sank to the plush carpet in a boneless heap. I kissed Collette’s neck and grinned at the dreamy look on her face. “One more to go.”
“No, Ryan.” She giggled as I playfully bit her shoulder, the girlish sound music to my ears. “I’m tapping out. I should go downstairs and make sure everything’s okay.”
“Uh-uh.” I scrambled to my feet and tossed the condom in a waste basket. “You’ve got one more in you. And like I said before, relax and let the others handle the party stuff.” Faking left as she tried to skirt around me, I snagged her by the wrist and pulled her in for a long, heated kiss. “Because I’m such a nice guy,” I chuckled when she snorted, “I’ll give you time to recuperate while I get some ice for my hand.”
Pulling a thick robe out of the closet, I helped her put it on. “If you really are hungry, call room service and order something to eat,” I suggested, retrieving my pants from the lampshade.
She shrugged and opened the menu. “Hmmm… oysters on the half shell. Aren’t they supposed to be aphrodisiacs?”
I chuckled, tugging my socks on. “Try them and find out.”
“There’s only six of them in an order. Will that be enough?”
“For you? Yeah.” I palmed the key card and snagged the ice bucket from the bathroom counter, eyeing the cavernous shower. We’d have to make use of it before checking out.
“You don’t want any?”
“I already have a foolproof aphrodisiac,” I said, giving an exaggerated wink while opening the door.
Her laughter followed me out of the room.
21
Ryan
The conference room door banged shut as Diana made her way to the only empty chair at the rectangular table.
She plopped into the brown leather seat and gave me a contemptuous look, snapping her gum as though she hadn’t just breezed in ten minutes late. “Sorry,” she muttered, not sounding the slightest bit sincere.
I stared her down from my spot at the head of the table, pissed at her childish behavior and lack of professionalism. As tempting as it was to say something, I refused to stoop to her level with a snide comment in front of our peers. Someone had to be the bigger person, and in this case, it was the team leader.
Me.
Darren had surprised the department in an email this morning by announcing a department-wide reorganization to “streamline operations and optimally utilize employee strengths.”
What a crock of shit.
The use of fancy corporate jargon to prevent widespread panic in the wake of a shakeup did nothing to stop the rampant circulation of layoff rumors. Nerves frayed, and paranoia spiked every damn time, even though pink slips were rarely handed out. I personally thought these “reorganizations” occurred whenever the head honchos got bored and decided to screw with the lowly peons.
I gained two new subordinates in their latest power play, one of whom clearly was not happy to have me as her boss.
Well, too damn bad for her. This arrangement was our reality, and she could either pull up her big girl panties or let the front door hit her in the ass on her way out. Regardless of our friendship status, or lack thereof, I intended to treat her the same as the others on my team. And in return, I expected some common courtesy.
I held myself to a set of high standards and made no bones about the fact that they also applied to my people. Yet I remembered my own shortcomings, such as nodding off at my desk, and tried to use that experience to not act like an iron-fisted dictator.
Which was why I bit my tongue instead of shooting from the hip with a sarcastic comment and decided to request a private sit-down with Diana.
The sooner we buried the hatchet, the better. I could set aside lingering anger from the coffee shop blow-up if Diana could do the same. We’d never be close friends again, but it would behoove us both to at least have a decent working relationship.
Once I had finished explaining my expectations to the group and reminding them that my door was always open, the meeting ended. As everyone rose from their seats and headed for the exit, I said, “Diana, could you please stick around for a few minutes?”
Her cheeks pinked up as she pivoted on her stilettos and sat in the chair closest to the door. One guy murmured, “Ooooooo” under his breath as he strode past her, the way schoolkids do whenever someone gets called to the principal’s office.
I closed the door after the last person and sat down next to her. “We need to talk.”
In the days since our spat, we often crossed paths around the office. But unlike before, there was no idle chatter or playful ribbing while standing in line to use the copier or while passing each other in the hallways. My attempts to be cordial–tight-lipped smiles and nods of acknowledgement–went unreturned. Diana stared right through me as though I was invisible. After a while, I tossed in the towel and didn’t bother to even look in her direction.
This snotty, dismissive behavior could not continue. I didn’t expect her to bow down and kiss my wingtips, but Diana sure as hell needed to treat me with a modicum of respect. Starting no
w.
Her fingernails drummed on the polished mahogany, her gaze focused on an object across the room. The cold shoulder she gave me squashed any hopes I’d had of starting this conversation off on a positive note.
Sighing inwardly, I loosened my tie. “Message received, Diana. Loud and clear. Can you please ease up a bit on the silent treatment? There are things we need to discuss.”
“A discussion involves two people. And since I have nothing to say to you, I’d like to go back to my hovel in Pissantville,” she said in an icy tone.
With my best poker face in place, I casually rested my elbows on the scalloped edge of the table. “Look, I realize this situation is far from ideal.” Ignoring her no-shit-Sherlock look, I continued, “This new arrangement is awkward for me, too. But it is what it is, and we have to find a way to come to terms with it. Happy employees produce happy clients. Part of my job is to facilitate goodwill on both fronts.”
She rolled her eyes, huffing out a sharp breath. “Singling me out in front of everyone does not make me happy.”
Hell would freeze over before I apologized. Especially since she was in the wrong. “Tardiness makes me unhappy. Be on time and we can avoid conversations about this subject in the future.”
“Fine. I’ll just drop whatever I’m doing from now on when you ring your bell to summon me.”
I damn near rolled my eyes at the ridiculous way she twisted my words. I did not view the accountants under my supervision as my servants. Outside of delegating tasks, I did the same work as them. Managerial positions like mine sat on the lowest rung of the corporate ladder. Maintaining your own projects while overseeing others either made you or broke you. It all came down to how well a person multitasked.
“Team meetings are at two on the nose every Thursday afternoon. I expect you to attend either in person or via conference call if you’re at a client site.”
Her jaw clenched, anger darkening her features. “Is that an order?”
“No. It’s a requirement, the same one everyone else is saddled with, including me. This is no different than what you’ve dealt with in the past. Just a different person doing the talking.”
“Right.” The corners of her mouth turned up. She shifted in her chair, crossing one leg over the other at her knee and leaning forward until her chest was parallel to the table. “Is it difficult to keep your thoughts together during a meeting when attendees do things to…distract you?”
My eyes darted to the closed door, away from the thighs and cleavage on brazen display. Whatever game Diana was playing did not have the effect she probably hoped for. Even when we were on good terms, she’d never rang my bell due to the differences in our personalities. And I was too clean-cut for her scruffy, bad-boy tastes.
Rolling backward, I reached over and twisted the handle, giving the door a hard shove to open it as much as possible. The receptionist’s desk sat only two or three feet away, putting her in earshot of any conversation taking place in this room. Sherron’s owlish hearing would come in handy if Diana ran to HR with a bullshit sexual harassment claim.
“No,” I said, raising my voice a few decibels. “Not at all.”
“Mmmhmm.”
I kept my gaze trained on the Pollock print hanging on the wall next to the frosted double doors, tracing the lines one color at a time. “Are we clear on the timeliness issue? I have to hop on a call in a couple of minutes.”
“Yes sir,” she drawled, rising from her seat. “I’ll be here on time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, next week.” Tugging her rucked-up skirt into place, she chomped on her gum like a cow chewing its cud while sauntering out the door.
Air whooshed out of my lungs in relief as I erased the dry board and unplugged my laptop from the power outlet in the middle of the table. Pinching the bridge of my nose to alleviate the dull ache in my temples, I flicked off the lights and left the room.
“Bad day?” Sherron asked with a sympathetic smile.
“Nah. Just a speedbump.”
“That speedbump needs to learn some manners.”
I chuckled. “Couldn’t agree with you more.”
“No, I’m serious. She can’t strut through here with her middle finger waving back and forth like a metronome. What if someone important was sitting here and got offended? If she does it again, I’m going to report her.”
Any hope I had for a positive change in Diana’s attitude faded in tandem with my smile. A tendril of unease snaked through my chest. I didn’t really believe in omens and bad tidings, but something about her brash behavior made my nerves prickle and bumped my DEFCON alert level up a notch.
Diana was still skating on thin ice from her blunder last month. Her job-related skills were already under the microscope. If her conduct became an issue, Darren would not hesitate to fire her at the earliest opportunity.
My misgivings about her half-hearted promise to behave were validated when she called in sick the next day. Of course, Darren noticed her unscheduled absence and asked me about it. I parroted the message she had left at three in the morning about feeling under the weather. But I left out several details, such as the fact that loud music and laughter had been in the background and that she had spoken in one gigantic run-on sentence punctuated by hiccups. For some odd reason, perhaps the last holdout of friendship-based loyalty, I didn’t want to rat her out.
On Monday morning, another voicemail awaited when I got to the office. Diana sounded fine but claimed she still wasn’t feeling well. A quick check confirmed she had sick days to spare, a fact Darren begrudgingly accepted. He was suspicious of any employee who called off on Fridays or Mondays, branding it as a shady way to extend the weekend.
Half of my team, including Diana, was scheduled to spend half-days for the next two weeks at a hospital in the northern suburbs. Not wanting to upset a new customer with deep pockets, I hightailed it home to grab my car and drive out to the client site. I walked in two hours late, thanks to road construction on the interstate. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.
The pattern continued over the next three days. She always called at some off-the-wall hour to avoid actually speaking to me and sounded perfectly fine. On Thursday afternoon, right after I wrapped up a team meeting, Darren pulled me into his office for a powwow with him and one of the founding partners.
“We’ve had enough of Miss Walsh’s shenanigans,” he announced.
Thatcher Karoll nodded in agreement, adjusting his diamond-encrusted cufflinks. “This nonsense has gone on long enough. Someone from HR will call her this afternoon to inform her of her termination. We thought you should know.”
I nodded and went back to my office, stunned that the situation had escalated to this point. For a split-second, I considered calling Diana on my own to give her a heads-up. I quickly dismissed the idea after reminding myself that she’d brought this upon herself.
Darren popped in to give me an update while I shut down operations for the day. I had to get out the door to make it to the community center on time for basketball practice.
“Diana didn’t answer when HR called her. They’re sending a termination letter by messenger tomorrow with a required signature option to cover our asses in case she tries to claim she never got it.”
Damn. The managing partners must have been fed up if they were taking this non-traditional route. I couldn’t blame them, though. Diana had crossed several lines and erased them, making it impossible to go back and pick up where she’d left off. She hadn’t just passed the point of no return, she’d blasted it to smithereens. Too many people in authoritative positions were involved now. And they were angry.
“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” I muttered, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder.
“This is what happens when you screw up and don’t take your second chance seriously. We’ll wipe our hands clean of her tomorrow morning. Have a good night.” With a nod, he picked up his briefcase and left.
A knot formed in my stomach at his callous attitude. I pictu
red Darren literally dusting off his hands after the elevator doors closed to whisk Diana away from the office for the last time after she came in to pick up her personal effects. Or would someone from HR toss them in a file box with her termination letter taped to the lid? What a horrible way to find out you no longer had a job.
Dread weighed me down at practice, causing me to trip over my own feet and miss easy shots. Les noticed how I was off-kilter and asked if everything was okay while the boys practiced layups. I gave him the CliffsNotes version of what bugged me. He quickly took my side, muttering unkind words about Diana, and sent me home early.
I went to my condo instead of Collette’s house. Much as I loved the atmosphere there, I just needed to be alone for a while to calm down and let some of my agitation dissipate. With only four weeks left in the semester, Collette was in the midst of crunch time, bogged down by projects and papers. I wanted to be a source of comfort and support, the foil to her stress and anxiety. Which meant doing my damnedest to project a positive vibe in spite of my crappy mood.
A five-mile run, hot shower, and change of clothes later, I got in my car and drove to the brownstone. Collette had given me a key when copies were made for the new locks, so I let myself in. My mouth watered at the first whiff of tomatoes and spices. Oscar jauntily trotted around a corner, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he dropped his stuffed raccoon at my feet. I flung it into the dining room and took off in the opposite direction.
Neil jerked his chin at me in greeting from the kitchen table. In his hands sat the biggest meatball sandwich I’d ever seen. My stomach groaned in response to the food porn. I snuck up behind the prettiest chef on the planet and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “What possessed you to go all Mama Luigi on a weeknight?” I asked, sliding my arms around her waist in a backward hug.
“Ray,” Collette replied, cutting a slit into an oblong Italian roll. “He was supposed to take care of printing up the brochures for our business, but…” She lifted a shoulder while ladling thick marinara sauce over a row of meatballs.
More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Page 17