Beautifully Sinful

by Blazie James

  “Me, too,” I whispered. Wait. Was I declaring my desire for sex right then and there or for something else? Was he?

  “But we need to get through this week,” He said. “And we’re at each other’s throats.” It was kind of him to say that. We weren’t really at each other’s throats as much as I was at his throat. “And I have a job to do and you have a job to do and—”

  I imagine I felt stung that he’d stopped things. “Yeah,” I said. “You’ve got a historic restaurant to destroy and I’ve got to make it hard on you.”

  He scowled at me. “Maybe I don’t fucking want this after all.”

  He turned and walked away and if I felt stung before, this was like a nest of wasps had been unleashed on me. I stared at the door for several minutes after it closed. I probably would have kept staring if Sharr hadn’t stepped into the office.

  "Why don't you just sleep with him and be done with it?" she asked. I glared at her and she lifted her hands. "Never mind, then. Hey, am I still tracking tabs? I never told him about them but some of the regulars are here."

  I groaned. “God, I don’t know. You know what, tell them all if they settle up by Friday, we’ll cut the tabs in half. Then Friday we’ll have to tell them no more tabs. Corporations don’t really go for that kind of thing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’m not going to tell Charlie. He’ll buy drinks for the house just for the deal.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Don't tell anyone anything. We'll just cut off tabs on Friday. Do you want… Jesus.”

  She sat down across from me and said, “What the hell is going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” I said but there was no real confidence in my voice and she knew it.

  “We all love The Mill, Hillie,” she said. “But everything changes.”

  "Gee, thanks, Sharr. For a moment there, I thought life would always stay the same forever and there would never be anything that made me unhappy ever. Thanks to you, I know that life isn't going to be sunshine and lollipops forever. Why, with that brilliant wisdom, I'm sure to succeed now. You can call me Miss Suzie Prepared. Hell, I should probably go home and get my old Girl Scout uniform out."

  “Are you done?”

  There was probably nothing in this world more effective at sending someone off their self-righteous rant than a friend who somehow managed to convey tolerance and exasperation with the same expression.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  "Two things then," she said. "Neither of us needs to stay for closing tonight. Come nine o'clock, I'm dropping you off with a bottle of wine."

  I nodded. “Second thing?”

  “You were never a Girl Scout and I think it’s the Boy Scouts who did the whole prepared thing, so stop using that, Suzy."

  I smiled. “I had an aunt named Suzy.”

  "No, you didn't."

  "No, I didn't."

  She smiled and said, "What the hell did I come back here for anyway?"

  “Bar tabs.”

  She nodded.

  “Why weren’t we friends back in high school, Sharr? How do we both grow up a block from each other and not become friends?”

  She laughed and said, “I was busy being popular and screwing popular guys in the backseats of cars. I didn’t have time for all you losers.”

  I stood up. “Well, I guess I have to make it until nine and we can tackle a bottle.”

  “I’m dropping you off with a bottle,” she said. “I was only volunteering the wine. I’m afraid a popular guy already has my evening claimed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I hope he has a huge backseat with as big as your butt is getting.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That was sheer brilliance. Absolute genius.” She winked at me. “While I’m in the big backseat with my huge butt, you can think of ways to make that wine bottle fun.”

  I wasn't sure if that was a crude comment or what, so I just said, "I said your butt was big, not huge." It was lame but she gave me a pity laugh and walked away. "What kind of wine are you giving me?" I called after her. She called back over her shoulder that it would have to be a surprise.

  I hurried after her, so me leaving the office would be connected with her, and by that time, the first few customers were wandering in. I noticed there were a couple of the lunch regulars at the bar and smiled at them as I walked past. They smiled back and I wondered if those smiles would disappear once Fieldscom had done its work with the place. I wondered if Sharr would even stick around once the impact of the big conglomerate became clearer.

  It wasn’t easy to get through the day, and I found myself looking at the clock time and time again. And at Robert, damn it. I found myself looking at him time and time again, and that wasn’t acceptable at all. By the time Sharr grabbed my shoulder and led me to the door, I was desperate to leave.

  “We need to meet at eight tomorrow morning,” Robert said as we left. I didn’t reply but Sharr told him I’d be there.

  “You didn’t need to answer for me,” I said.

  She held up a bottle. “This bottle sells for more than that outfit you’re wearing, and I got Robert to let me take it home.”

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  She smiled. “I told him you needed Chardonnay therapy and grabbed a cheaper bottle. He said since we were getting rid of some of the premium bottles to get one that didn’t taste like vinegar. I think he might like you.”

  "Oh, great," I said. "Satan likes me."

  She stared at me for a moment and said, “Oh my God. You like him, too.”

  I frowned.

  “Dreaming of kissing the billionaire boy? Dreaming of—” She stopped suddenly and I realized my face had given it all away. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You already have.”

  I held up a hand. Wisely, she let it go but when she dropped me off, she said, “We are going to talk about this later.”

  "Go find your backseat," I growled. I slammed the car door but then I opened it again and grabbed the wine from the backseat. She just smiled at me and I groaned and stomped to my front door. I had to get my mind to win the battle.

  His eyes and his shoulders were waging.

  But his eyes and his shoulders won out, damn it. In the bath, in an effort to relax, I let my hands run over my body because I had to but I did everything I could to fill my head with images of someone, anyone other than Robert. I thought about my boyfriend in college and my boyfriend in graduate school. Robert's face just ended up on their bodies and then his body ended up there as well. I thought about a professor back in college and the same thing happened. I thought about every reasonably attractive guy I'd ever known but they all turned into Robert in relatively short order until I finally gave up and just thought about him with his impossible eyes and perfect shoulders.

  When I climaxed in an explosion of images of Robert, I finally felt guilt that seemed pretty damned justified indeed.

  Chapter Five

  I sat in my car for a good ten minutes before I finally decided being late would only make things worse. I reminded myself that I only had to suffer through this for a few more days and that would be that. As I stepped into the restaurant, I realized the truth was that I had more than those few days. There were a few days left of this trip but he'd be back again. Maybe he'd send someone else. Hell, I didn't know.

  “Hillary, thanks for coming in.”

  I turned around and he stood in all his glory. The expression on his face was a little different, though. It was still a hard look, of course, but it wasn’t quite the same. It almost looked like pain on his face.

  “No problem,” I said softly.

  "Have a seat, please," He said and again I noted a different tone. He was still very professional but it didn't seem like he was barking orders, demanding anything at all from me. I sat down and looked at him, warily.

  "My great grandfather founded Fieldscom, and back then, there weren't any real chains. Maybe none. Way back then, quality control was a real issue. There weren't brands, really, at
least not any…" He sighed. "What I mean is, I know this sucks. I don’t like my job. I don’t like doing this.”

  This was completely unexpected. “Why don’t you quit?’

  He laughed bitterly. “Robert Kensington III not working for Fieldscom? That’s not really an option.” There was something behind his eyes, resignation. “I don’t like it, this is the point but if I don’t do it, someone else will come here and do it.”

  “That’s a lame excuse,” I said.

  His eyes flashed with anger and then he regained control. “One of these days, you’re going to choke on all your moral authority and there will be nobody left to perform the Heimlich maneuver.”

  I stared for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Did you… Did you just say that?"

  He laughed, too. “The Heimlich maneuver? Really.” Through his laughter, he said, "Hey, it was a clever and ominous warning."

  “It belonged on a sitcom!” I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks and I wondered when I’d last laughed like this or when I’d last needed a laugh like this.

  “No!” He almost choked as he tried to talk. “It was high drama. One of the clips they play for the nomination for best screenplay.”

  We both laughed for a while and he finally said, “Look. I need to get through this. I can’t stop what the company is going to do but I can make it easier on the staff.” He reached forward and put his hand on mine. “We can put in raises, contracts and such. We’ll document everything before I leave and even if The Mill isn’t what it once was, at least everybody here has some security.”

  “You think that makes everything okay?”

  “God,” He said, shaking his head. “Is it even possible for you to stop being a… to stop fighting for five minutes?”

  I was ready to snap back but I realized the anger wasn't in it. So, I said, "I thought if I kept pushing you, we might get another Heimlich joke."

  He smiled. "So, can we get started on contracts and bonuses?"

  I nodded and stood. I felt the absence of his hand.

  "Go ahead and bring the payroll files."

  “Payroll is handled by an outside HR firm.”

  “Hunter and McCall?”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty impressive. Do you know every vendor?”

  He stood. “Come on. We have to go to the hotel. They delivered all the paperwork there this morning. I thought they were just the accounting firm.”

  We took separate cars because I had a meeting with the bank later. The whole drive over, I felt pretty damned excited and pretty damned stupid. I was excited because it finally felt like I was doing something, anything that could mitigate some of the helplessness the sale of the restaurant had brought on. I felt stupid because I'd misjudged Robert and treated him horribly. I felt a little better when we got to the hotel because it was hard to muster up sympathy for someone staying at the most expensive place in town.

  He didn’t have a room. He had what the hotel called a suite but it had more floor space than my whole damned house. There were boxes on the table right past the door and we got right to work. I learned a little about wealth while we worked because we needed folders and some printing and all it took was a call to the hotel concierge to get everything we needed. When we finished about two hours later, we had fresh employee files for everyone with new contracts set up and ready for the employee signatures right next to where I signed and where Robert countersigned.

  I stared at the stack and smiled. "It would be nice if The Mill could stay like it is but this is a great consolation prize." I looked at him and felt a desperate need to crack a joke. I couldn't, though. He had an expression that was somewhere between a proud little kid and a far too superior asshole like he was happy that I was happy but also completely shocked I ever would have doubted his superiority.

  God, that was sexy.

  I stared at his face and it was only when I saw him take a deep breath that I realized neither of us had spoken for a minute or two. When he stood, I all but leaped from my seat and a moment later, our mouths met once again. There was none of the anger or aggression this time but there sure as hell was plenty of energy. He yanked my shirt up and off, and I was glad I hadn't worn a button-up blouse this time because the buttons would have sprayed everywhere and he'd already cost me one nice shirt. My bra followed. He didn't unhook it. He just pulled it up and off as he'd done to my shirt.

  That was when I realized I wanted to get involved in the whole process. When he reached for my pants, I ducked out of his grasp and then fell to my knees in front of him. As I unbuckled his belt, I fought back a giggle because he kept starting and stopping. He didn't know what to do with his hands. I opened his fly and he figured it out. His jacket hit the floor as I got his pants down around his ankles. He unbuttoned his first button just as I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxers.

  When I got them down to his knees, they stayed there for a while because I stared at him, just admiring his manhood. I didn’t have a lot of experience. My gaze ran down the length of his cock. It looked like every perfectly drawn or sculpted penis in every perfect work of art. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

  When his shirt hit the floor; I woke up from my admiration and leaned forward. I closed my mouth over him and he moaned, a caramel and cinnamon moan that I felt deep inside of me. I felt a familiar surge of excitement. With my prior boyfriends, I always enjoyed giving oral sex. Total power trip every time. I loved being in complete control and I loved the way I could turn the boys into complete putty. Nothing made me feel as powerful. He gasped when I pushed all the way forward until his entire length was in my mouth and I felt like a superhero.

  His undershirt hit the floor, and that was when Robert figured out what to do with his hands. It was also when any sense of control I felt disappeared. He held tightly enough to my hair, almost pulling it and I yelped a little around his length. He immediately let go.

  “Jesus!” He exclaimed.

  “I’m sorry.” I said, “God,”

  “Shut up.”

  I put my mouth back on him and grabbed his hand, lifting it back up to my head. He got the other picture and his other hand joined the first. A moment later he was back at it, and so was I.

  It wasn't until he lifted me and put me on the bed that I realized I would have been perfectly happy finishing with my mouth and letting it end with that. At that moment, I stared at the ceiling and felt him pull my pants off, though, the idea of the afternoon passing without feeling him inside of me was pretty damned insane. A moment later, my panties were off. All I wore were my socks and I wondered if his pants were still bunched up at his ankles.

  I didn’t wonder about anything at all after that because he decided to repay the favor and if he'd been a magician with his fingers before, he was a damned sorcerer with his mouth. I was twenty-seven-years old and this was the first time anyone ever went down on me. It surpassed all expectations, even though, at twenty-seven, I had pretty damned high expectations. Almost immediately, I was very close and I didn't know if that was because of how sexually charged everything had been over the last few days or if he just had that kind of skill. I tangled my fingers in his hair and held on tightly.

  The back of my mind kept trying to talk to me but there was no way in hell I'd let it. I was right in the middle of Heaven at a hotel and if the whole situation was illusory or unwise, I didn't give a damn. I moaned loudly as my climax hit, and he seemed to have perfect knowledge about how to extend the orgasm with his mouth until I grew too sensitive. Then, he was inside of me and I gasped and threw my arms around him. I realized as we moved that I was surprised because I imagined he’d want me to take care of him the same way. I was surprised but not disappointed and as he moved faster and harder, I clung to his shoulders and wondered if my orgasm would ever end.

  It ended about ten or twelve minutes later but we remained in bed for about fifteen minutes. Then, he called room service and they brought up a cheese and fruit plate and a bottl
e of champagne. We ate and talked about everything other than work and what we’d just done. I made fun of his taste in music—classic rock, and he made fun of my favorite book, The Yearling. We wore thick, terrycloth hotel robes, and it all felt wonderful until my phone beeped with a reminder for my meeting at the bank.

  "Oh, damn it!" I leaped up. "I forgot about the bank."

  I disappeared into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later, dripping and smelling of the lavender shampoo the hotel provided. I gathered up my clothes and felt a bit foolish to feel the need to get dressed in the bathroom after all that happened. When I came back out, presentable enough for my meeting, he had the rest of the fruit and cheese packed up for me.

  “Take this,” He said.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

  He smiled, somehow self-assured rather than cocky now. "Sure, I did. I'm bribing you." He handed me the tray and grabbed hold of a box. "These are all the contracts and bonus authorizations. Drop them off at Hunter and McCall and this remarkable fruit and cheese is yours.”

  “Dork,” I said.

  “Not enough?” He opened up the box and I saw a bottle of champagne. I was pretty sure the bottle cost more than I would have budgeted for enough champagne for a wedding.

  “Well,” I said. “How can I refuse when it’s cheese and champagne both?”

  I would have said something else, something hopefully as brilliant as it could be, but my phone beeped again and I went into panic mode. He put the cheese in the box and I rushed off, positively aglow. I stopped at home and put the bottle and the tray in the refrigerator and then rushed to the bank.

  I handled the meeting almost on autopilot. It was just boring arrangements for their Spring National Meeting, which was a silly name because they had a total of four branches and two non-branch automated teller machines. We’d hosted their banquet for the last three years and there was nothing new or special about the upcoming meeting. I dropped the paperwork at the human resources firm and they told me Robert had called ahead and they’d have the bonus checks delivered with payroll. I thanked them and headed back to The Mill.