by Jo Raven
“Fuck me, Parker. Fuck me now. Please. I'm begging you.” I want to reach down and guide him into me, but I know he likes being in control. I have to allow him to have control if we're both going to get the full pleasure out of this.
The shrill buzz of a phone ringing slices through the air between us. My heart stops as I stare into his eyes. Please don't answer it. Please don't leave me.
“I've got to take this,” he says, looking genuinely sorry as he steps away from me to search his blazer for his cell phone. I silently curse the thing, wishing I could snatch it from his hand, chuck it against the wall, and shatter it into a million pieces. He looks down at the caller ID, and his eyes go wide. “Shit. I've got to go. I'm running late. I'm so sorry.”
As he pulls off the condom and discards it in the trash, I feel like all of my lusty hopes went along with it. I've never been more disappointed in my entire life. What's so damn important that he would pass up sex? I just don't understand.
Shocked by my own intense misery, I just sit there while he dresses. My brain can't process what's going on, why he was so cruelly torn away from me. Not torn away from me—leaving of his own free will. Whatever that phone call was about, he could have answered it and canceled. This only cements in my mind that all businessmen are assholes.
CHAPTER SIX
“Wow, Kira, that's some story.” Yolanda takes a long sip of her margarita.
“Yeah. I still can't believe he did that to me.” I scowl at my Bloody Mary. After a day like this, I need a drink. Right now, I should be lying in bed, thinking about how my legs are so bowed they might not ever recover. But instead, I'm wallowing in misery, drowning my sorrows, and pouting over how it's going to be another long night with my favorite battery-operated toy.
“I still can't believe you almost fucked Parker Bernier.” The surprise in her voice is genuine. She's staring at the condensation on my drink, but looking more through it than at it.
“Almost doesn't count,” I sigh, gesturing into the air to swat away the too-recent memory. I wish I could go back in time and replay the entire afternoon. If I could do that, I never would have tried to seduce Parker in the first place. Hell, at this point, I wish I could rewind the entire month and never go to interview at Enkidu Industries in the first place. My heel breaking on the way into the building should have been a sign that it was nothing but bad news.
“So what are you going to do now?” She leans forward in interest, wrapping her hand around the small stem of her fishbowl glass to bring it up to her lips.
“Pretend it never happened,” I reply dryly. If only I could really do that.
“You don't think he's going to want to try for it again?”
“I really don't know, but I hope not.” It's only a partial lie. If he did advance on me, I doubt I could resist him, but I don't want it to happen. The sexual tension between us clouds our professional relationship. And more than I want him, I want to keep my job. It's hard to remember that when I'm in a room alone with him, but it's the truth.
“It's hard to come back from something like that.” She gives me a skeptical look.
“It is, but we're just going to have to. He said he's never fucked one of his employees before, something about it being against his policy. I'll just remind him of that, and that will be the end of it.” Surely, it will work. After all, he had very good restraint until I advanced on him.
“Aren't you a bit disappointed that it didn't happen though?” She arches an eyebrow at me. Obviously, I'm not very convincing when I say I don't want to have sex with him anymore. Perhaps I haven't even convinced myself yet. But having sex with him would be the worst career move I could make. It just can't happen. I need to see that, even if I have to force myself.
“I am disappointed,” I admit sullenly. Knowing how good he was with his mouth, I bet he could have erased Anders completely from my mind. He might have even been able to erase Asher. But I don't want to think about that. Those are dangerous thoughts. The man is a self-proclaimed womanizer. The only thing his dick would have erased is my sanity.
“Oh, well. You've got to do what you've got to do, I suppose.” She shrugs. I can tell she's a bit disappointed that I've decided not to pursue him anymore. Yolanda likes a good story, and what's more interesting than listening to your best friend tell you she fucked her very attractive boss? This is my life though, not hers, and the drama that having sex with Parker would cause isn't worth her entertainment.
***
The air between us is tense. At least, it's tense for me. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the silence when he's on the massage table and I'm standing over him. It seems a bit foreign when I know that fifteen minutes from now, he'll be interrogating me about my sex life like it's his business. It's not his business. I'm not his business.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” The question sounds so casual. Obviously, he wasn't listening to me when I told him it's been six months since I last fucked. Factoring that in, it should be pretty clear that I don't have a boyfriend.
“My personal life is none of your business,” I respond coldly.
“It's just a question.” He shifts his weight.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I counter.
“My personal life is none of your business.” His lips draw up into an amused smirk.
“Good. Then we both agree that our relationship is strictly professional.” I try my best not to sound bitter, but I know a hint of it shines through. I'm not sure why I feel it's so necessary to drive this point home. The ship that we could have fucked on has sailed right over a cliff and splintered into matchsticks.
“I'm sorry about yesterday.” He catches on to what I'm getting at.
“There's no need to apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry. You told me you don't have sex with your employees. I pressed the issue. It was fate that made sure it didn't happen.” I think about how his phone ruined everything, and I wonder who could have been calling that was so damned important. If he hadn't gotten that phone call, what would we be doing right now? Maybe we would be fucking again. Hopefully, we would be fucking again. Perhaps I would be sitting in my apartment scanning through the classified ads for a new job. There's really no way of knowing.
“Fate?” He quirks a brow, though his eyes are closed.
“Yes. Fate. If we were supposed to have sex, it would have happened.” I'm determined about this. That phone ringing was like God thumping us both on the head and saying a stern, No!
“You're upset about it, aren't you?” The way his smile broadens only pisses me off.
“I was last night, but I'm not anymore.” There's no point in hiding the truth. Who wouldn't be upset about something like that?
“Kira, I'm a very busy man. We'd already been in here longer than an hour. I had a business meeting to go to, and I got caught up in your body. It was a meeting I couldn't miss, and one of my associates was calling to see where I was at.” He's right. I put in about thirty minutes of overtime yesterday. It didn't matter to me though, because the reason was supposed to be worth it. His dick was supposed to be my bonus. Now I'm wondering if I'm even going to get paid for the extra time. Probably not.
“I get it. I really do. And now I understand why it's imperative that you stick to your policy.” He can't get distracted. I can't get distracted. It's best if we don't mess around anymore.
“You make me not want to stick to my policy,” he purrs, opening his eyes and reaching a hand up to trace his fingertip across my chin.
I jerk my head out of his reach. “When are you sending me to massage school? You said you were going to, but we haven't spoken about it since.” The sooner I graduate, the sooner I can quit this place and find a legit job. If he thinks that I'm sticking around once I get my massage license, he's out of his mind. I don't even care if that's a shady thing to do. Nothing that has gone on inside this room so far has been anything but shady.
“I wanted to see if you lasted the week before I registered you,�
� he replies with surprising honesty. “This is a very demanding job.”
That's an understatement. The sexual tug and pull of being around him is more than demanding, it's absolutely torturous. I don't see how all the women before me were able to handle it.
“Oh,” I grunt.
“Time to switch places. Lie on your stomach this time.” He sits up, and I groan internally at the onslaught of questions I'm sure I'm about to be subjected to. As soon as I'm in place, and he's standing over me, he says, “If you haven't had sex in six months, then I can only assume that you're single.” Maybe his memory isn't as shitty as I thought it was.
“We're not doing this anymore.” My tone is firm. We're not. I don't want to talk about this stuff with him. If he forces me to, I might not come back tomorrow.
“It's just conversation, Kira.” He starts with my back today, and it feels absolutely heavenly.
“The questions are too personal. Ask me something normal, like what my favorite color is.” Is it even possible for him to hold a normal conversation? I'm beginning to wonder.
“What's your favorite color?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Blue. What's your favorite color?” I'm amazed that he didn't give me some bullshit excuse about why we should keep talking about sex. It almost feels like he's luring me into a trap.
“I still want to have sex with you.”
I knew he couldn't divert from the subject for more than a few seconds. “That's your problem,” I respond harshly.
“I thought you wanted to have sex with me too.” His palms press into my ass cheeks, putting all of his weight on me.
“I did want to. Past tense. Now, I just want you to be my boss.” My sex aches with his hands so close to it. I can't tell if this is another one of his seduction tactics or if he's actually seriously massaging me. He's kneading my ass like a cat kneads a blanket.
“What changed between yesterday and today?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“I decided I don't want to get involved with any more rich assholes.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. They're raw and true and can potentially get me fired.
***
“You really said that to him.” Yolanda nearly chokes on a bite of overpriced burrito. The disbelief is clear on her face. Who tells their new boss that he's an asshole? It's a recipe for a pink slip.
“I was just so upset.” I frown at my enchiladas, poking at the cheese on top. These are extra gooey, and they look absolutely delicious, but my appetite just isn't there.
I have to look for another job. Even though Parker didn't fire me, I know that this isn't going to work. He frustrates me way too much, both sexually and emotionally. All the free tuition and pay raises in the world aren't enough to put up with his sexy, arrogant ass.
“And did he fire you?” She teeters on the edge of her seat. I can tell she expects the answer to be yes thanks to the scowl I've been wearing ever since we greeted each other. The memory of those last few minutes in the massage room plagues me. To be honest, I'm still not completely sure that he hasn't decided to fire me. Maybe he'll wait until tomorrow.
“No, but it doesn't matter.” I shake my head. “I'm going to start looking for a new job as soon as I get home. Things are too awkward between us now.” Perhaps Subway will take me back. I worked there before running off to college. The manager always ogled my breasts though, and one time he even unzipped the front of my shirt. That's the only reason I haven't tried going back.
It was sexual harassment to the tenth degree, but now that I think about it, it's nothing compared to what I'm dealing with at Enkidu Industries. The manager always flirted with me, but he never outright asked for sex. Maybe he knew he was too old, and I didn't find him attractive. That makes a huge difference. If I didn't find Parker so devastatingly handsome, I would have walked away the first day I met him. My addiction to seeing his naked dick is what keeps me coming back, and the distant hope that I'll one day get to take a ride on it. I curse my body for being so needy.
I shudder at the thought of standing on those hard tile floors making sandwiches for picky customers all day, but it would be the fastest way to get me out of Enkidu Industries, and I could just work there until I found another job. I had already been considering it before Parker hired me, but only out of sheer desperation. At this point, a job is a job, and anything is better than playing a dangerous naked tango every day with a guy who is built to drive me insane.
“That's understandable.” She gives me a sympathetic nod before scooping up a bite of rice with her fork. “Have you heard anything from Asher lately?”
Ugh. Is she really asking me about him? It's been six months since I last saw the guy, and I'd rather keep him in the past. The ending of our relationship was so tumultuous though that Yolanda seems to find it entertaining to bring him up. Maybe she holds on to some thread of hope that we'll get back together. That's not going to happen.
“No,” I grumble, trying to make it crystal clear that I don't want to talk about him.
“I swear, Kira, you attract rich guys like shit attracts flies. I really don't know how you do it.”
I nearly spit out my soda, coughing as I laugh. “Wow, you couldn't have worded that any worse.”
“Well, it's true. I was going to say how honey attracts bees, but that wouldn't have been right.” She shakes her head.
“I think you meant how honey attracts flies. You know the saying you can attract more flies with honey than vinegar? Bees make honey, so saying it the other way wouldn't exactly make sense.” The broad smile that's etched across my face won't go away, and I'm glad. It feels like it's been so long since I last smiled.
“Well, the point is”—she gestures at me with her fork—“you keep snagging the attention of one rich guy after another. Parker. Asher. Anders.”
“I'm not ever sure Anders was rich. He could have been feeding me some bullshit.” I roll my eyes, remembering how dashing he was in an expensive-looking suit. His cologne even smelled exotic.
“He took you to the Marriott, Kira. The Marriott. The dude had money.”
“He probably did, but I didn't exactly get him. He was more like the one who got away.” They're all the ones who got away, now that I think about it. Rich men are easy for me to get, hard for me to keep. I'm like the mistress on the sidelines. I'm too underclass for a real relationship.
“Asher you would have married though. You would have married him if that bitch hadn't been in the picture.”
I cringe as Yolanda pulls his name across her lips as casually as if it's nothing. It's definitely not nothing to me. His name carries so much weight in my heart. It will always bring me pain.
“That bitch was his wife,” I reply curtly. Yolanda knew that I found out he was dating someone else when he was with me, but she never knew it was his wife. I kept that to myself to save me from the embarrassment of Yolanda knowing that he was secretly married the entire time we were together. It's far enough in the past now that it doesn't hurt quite so much to say it.
“His wife,” Yolanda gasps, her eyes going wide. “You never told me this. How did you find out?”
I shrug, feeling a bit guilty for keeping it from her. “He told me in a text. In the end, I was his mistress. I was never supposed to find out.” I can still vividly remember when I caught the two of them together. My aunt and cousin had taken me out to eat at Gary Danco to celebrate me finishing my first semester of college. We were halfway through our meal when I spotted Asher sitting with a woman a few tables away. They were deep in conversation, with him holding her hand on top of the table. The way she looked at him spoke volumes about her feelings for him. When he finally leaned in to kiss her, I was completely destroyed.
It wasn't until they were about to leave that he noticed me sitting there staring at them. I'll never forget the blank look on his face. He knew he had hurt me, and he didn't care. What was worse was that he walked out of the restaurant hand in hand with her without even ac
knowledging me.
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces that night, and I still haven't been able to put it back together. Maybe I never will. I certainly haven't thought of dating since. No one has ever damaged me that badly in all my life.
“Oh my God, Kira. That's horrible.” Yolanda's mouth is still hanging agape, and I'm wondering if I should reach across the table and close it for her. Maybe now she understands why I don't like talking about Asher. He made a complete fool of me for nearly six months of my life.
“Yeah, that's why I'd rather not discuss it any further. I feel so fucking stupid. All of these rich guys are assholes. You should be glad your boyfriend is a bum,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. She's been dating her boyfriend Jason for almost a year now. They met at the movie theater where he works. The guy has no ambition, but he's sweet, and he treats her right, so I guess that's okay.
“He turned down the manager position again,” she groans, deflating from the news. “He says he doesn't want the responsibility… or the hours.”
“I hope that guy knows he can't live with his parents forever.” I quirk an eyebrow at her. Jason has to be one of the most immature guys I've ever met. I doubt he'll move out of his parents' house unless they force him.
“I keep telling him we should get an apartment together, but he says he's saving up for a better car.” She rolls her eyes.
“What's wrong with the one he's got? Isn't he driving the Monte Carlo?” Last I remember, the car is perfectly fine. Hell, it's even newer than my Buick.
“He is, but he says he wants a new Camaro, and he doesn't have enough money saved back to where the payments would be reasonable.” She stabs at her burrito. I can't blame her. The guy's priorities are all messed up.
“If he gets a new car, you can bet you guys will never move in together,” I tell her.