by R. J. Lewis
It was mid-morning and he hadn’t showed up at the office. This was so unlike him. He usually tormented me at this point. I didn’t pretend that Friday night’s events hadn’t changed everything, but I certainly didn’t think it would have for him. In fact, I expected him to be here making smart-ass, egotistical remarks about our time together.
Maybe he regretted it as much as I did. That would be good if he did. That would be… Fuck, why would he regret it? Was I some kind of let-down in the sack? Was that why he didn’t want to be around me, because I repulsed him and ruined whatever allure he had for me?
I bit down on my lip, hating how shit that possibility made me feel. How dare he not show up! He made my vagina bleed for fuck’s sake. I deserved an apology for that! And for him propositioning me for sex! And for him tasting like heaven on earth! And for him taking me so hard and fast and giving me an experience I’d never felt before!
I groaned at my stupidity. One of those girls, Emma, you’re one of those girls now.
It was true. I had become one of those girls. I thought about our time together all weekend. I picked apart every tiny detail. He didn’t owe me an apology! I took him willingly. He didn’t proposition me for sex. He knew it would rile me up, and that’s what he wanted – that was his fetish. To rile me up so that I slapped him, and I hated how hot that suddenly made me feel.
I’d never felt power over a man before, yet he’d relinquished it in that moment, allowing me to pain him for pleasurable reasons. I’d come to the conclusion that I didn’t regret our time together. The tension had been thick between us for a while now. It was the kind of release we both needed.
From loathing him, to simply hating him, to suddenly wanting nothing more than to tear his clothes off and feel myself get shredded by him… This was the most epic whiplash I’d ever endured.
I re-adjusted myself in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position because I was still a little sore. It didn’t bother me. I’d finally gotten laid, and I’d never had these memorable bruises carried with me as a reminder in the days following.
“You’re going to remember I’ve been here. You’re going to hurt and remember how deep my cock was buried inside of you.” Job well done, asshole.
I looked over at the empty chair beside me. He should have been here ages ago.
What the fuck, Borden?
*
He showed up in the afternoon.
He strode into the office in a suit, which meant he’d been doing business all day. There was no ham and cheese sandwich on him for me. He didn’t have a lollipop in his mouth. He didn’t even look in my direction.
It suddenly felt like a dark cloud had settled over the entire room.
I sat up straighter, my hand shaking over my mouse as I watched him settle into his chair, not a word said to me. He opened a few files, sorted through some papers, and I practically felt invisible, which was alright because I was probably staring at him like a goddamn puppy begging for attention.
I needed to discuss what happened between us. I needed to tell him that I didn’t regret it, and that kicking him out was a mistake.
“Borden,” I whispered, nervously.
He didn’t turn to me. “What do you want?” he growled out irritably.
I swallowed hard, surprised by his tone. He’d never spoken to me like that before.
“Um…”
I didn’t know what to say, or how to put the words together. Especially when he was angry because he was usually a lost cause in these moods.
He finally looked up at me, an icy glare on his face. “Um what, Emma?”
I licked my lips and his eyes narrowed furiously at my mouth.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I pushed out.
“You wanted to talk about what?” he retorted.
“About Friday.”
“Is this regarding work matters?”
“Well, no.”
“Your employment?”
“No.”
“Then keep it to yourself.”
I frowned at him, my heart twisting. “Now all of a sudden we’re going to be professional?”
“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he shot back. “So you got it, Miss Warne. Return to your work and only speak to me if you have something informative to say.”
I blinked back sudden tears in my eyes. I looked away quickly before he could see them water and stared at the computer screen. I was flustered and hurt. I didn’t expect this reaction out of him.
He’d finally gotten what he wanted out of me, didn’t he?
I swallowed the lump, angry at myself for feeling emotional. Clearly it was that time of the month. It was not him, no. Not at all. Men didn’t make me cry. Never, ever did I give them the power to hurt me. Borden was no different.
Liar.
It was so hard trying to appear normal, trying to do work, when my mind was elsewhere the entire time. I was conscious of his movements, of his damn heated presence every second I sat there next to him. Without thinking, my eyes glimpsed at his fingers, and I saw the red mark I’d left on his index. Deep bite marks that made my heart rate skyrocket even more and my sex clench deliciously. It was proof of how far we’d gone, and now I felt like we were a million miles apart.
“Stare at your work, Miss Warne,” he bit out without looking up.
Red in the face, I turned away and stopped looking at him directly. Part of me was angry, the other part confused. I watched the clock tick, begging for time to hurry along so I could go home and ugly cry.
“Do you mind if I slipped out and grabbed something to eat?” I managed out. I’d been waiting for him all day, I’d trudged straight through lunch, and because he hadn’t gotten me a sandwich like usual, my stomach was swirling with hunger.
“Your lunch hour was two hours ago,” he snipped back. “If you didn’t get yourself something then, you’ve wasted your own time.”
“But I’m all done my work.”
“In that case, I can think of six toilets that need cleaning if you’ve truly got nothing else to do.”
I stilled in shock and anger before turning back to my computer. “I’ll just go through the account register again.”
I could feel his smug smirk from where I sat, and I had to take breaths in so I wouldn’t lash out. What a dickhead. Did he really think that he could turn into an asshole after fucking me?
I’ll fix you.
I opened my internet browser and went straight to work.
If I couldn’t go out for food, then the food was going out to me.
*
Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the office door. I resisted smiling because I knew who it was.
“Come in,” Borden said, looking up from his paperwork.
The door opened and one of his men, Gerry, came striding in holding two bags of food.
“Got a food delivery, Mr Borden,” he said, standing infront of his desk.
Borden shot him a face. “For who?”
Gerry opened the bag and pulled out one of the Tupperware containers and read the name on top.
“Says it’s for…Boss Man Emma.”
Borden’s jaw clenched and slowly he turned to me, his face grim. Ignoring him, I raised my hand up to Gerry and said, “Oh, that’s for me. Thanks, Gerry.”
He set the two bags down on my desk and left the room. I could feel Borden’s glare as I went about opening the bags and removing the containers. There were ten of them, and I spread my giant expensive feast out all over my desk, a content smile on my face.
“Since when do you like Chinese food?”
“Well, I don’t,” I explained, “but because I’m not on my own lunch break, I’m on company time, and this place was on the company account for catering. And don’t worry, you left a nice tip. Thank you, Mr Borden.”
He didn’t respond. I was sure he was twitching like a rage-case that he was, and I loved that. I went about eating as I worked, all the while ignoring him watching me take a bite
out of everything.
“I’m going to go out and get something to drink,” I told him after I’d finished. “Unless…I’m not allowed to.”
I glanced at him expectantly, and I saw the wheels turning in his brain. If he didn’t allow me this, I’d fucking fix him again. Maybe I’d buy a vending machine and place it in the goddamn office. The thought actually thrilled me.
“Just go,” he muttered, fuming.
I did, and after I had something to drink, I went to the toilet and took a long ass time brushing my teeth and pacing the room. Pretty much, I did what I could to prove to him that I’d always find a way out of his reins, and he wasn’t happy about it.
The animosity in the room was so palpable after that, I felt nervous through my façade. I was doing this whole thing because I was hurt, and I didn’t want to be stepped on. However, I was quietly aware that I might be doing more damage between us, and the last thing I wanted was for him to hate me. The thought unsettled me so much, I found myself trembling, searching for ways to mend the bridge but coming up short at how unapproachable he was.
When it was time to go, I couldn’t have been more relieved. I began packing away my things. I was slow, unsure of how the kiss on his cheek was going to go. I stood up, awkwardly turning in his direction. My palms were sweaty, I didn’t know what to do. Go to him? Leave? With his awful demeanour, I decided it was best to just go.
I made it three steps to the door when his voice rang out.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I stopped, and my lips curled up. So much for professionalism. I turned around and went to him, a tsunami of emotions taking over. I bent down to his side and kissed his stubbled cheek. It wasn’t a peck, though, not this time. My lips stayed there for several seconds, kissing him like I meant it with everything inside of me. I felt him go still, and I pulled away, when he abruptly grabbed me around the back of my neck and forced my face back to his. He brought me inches away and he stared at me, his eyes so blue, I swam in their depths, my head dizzying with lust.
I breathed harder, and every part of me stirred alive. That same thrilling feeling when he kissed me before emerged, and I silently pleaded for him to do it. To bring me back to his mouth and ravage me.
Suddenly, nothing about the day mattered. All of that anger and frustration was utterly forgotten.
There was hunger in his eyes, but also conflict. It was as though he was fighting to keep me at a distance.
“Do it,” I whispered to him.
If there was a switch, I’d just flipped it.
He pulled me to him quickly, taking my mouth against his. I sank into him, sucking at his lips and tongue, feeling like a crack addict getting a fix. He kissed me with such depth, I was lost to him, incapable of thought or reason.
His whole body moved instantly, shoving me back, situating me on the edge of his desk. He hiked up my skirt, his fingers shoving aside my very nice pair of thongs – because a part of me wanted this to happen – and lightly stroked at my clit. I bucked under the touch, and sparks flew through me at his touch.
Yes, yes, yes. My body chanted.
Then…
RIP!
He tore the thong off and stood up, kicking back his computer chair as he leaned into me. His hands were everywhere. Groping my breast, unbuttoning my shirt, bringing my skirt up over my thighs and around my hips, skimming over my bare sex with just enough pressure to make me moan.
I couldn’t explain my excitement in that moment. There were no words. I felt my heart explode in my chest as I kissed him, savouring that beautiful rush between us. My hands ran up his chest, tugging off his suit jacket. I ran my fingers into his hair, yanking at the ends.
All the while I was vaguely aware of him shifting things behind me. Paperwork and containers flew off the table, and the computer monitor got shoved to the other end of his desk. Abruptly he grabbed me around the neck and shoved me away from his mouth, until my back was against the hard desk. I opened my eyes to look at him and saw the raw heat radiating out of his gaze as he hurriedly unbuckled himself.
We were both panting, and along with my quickening heartbeats, it was the only sound I heard in the room… until the head of his cock brushed against my entrance, and I moaned low in my throat.
“Beg for it,” he demanded.
“Just fuck me, Borden.”
“Say ‘please’.”
I paused, and then I pushed against his hand still around my throat and slapped him across his cheek.
Always that stunned look on his face.
And hunger.
My God, the hunger in his eyes gave me chills.
Suddenly spurred on, he thrusted hard into me, filling me up in one smooth glide, and I tensed beneath him. That damn blessed piercing rubbed against my g-spot, and I saw stars. I wasn’t sure how loud I was moaning. I was too busy feeling to know, and bloody hell, what a feeling it was. I’d never go without a pierced cock again, I knew.
No, no, I’d never go without his pierced cock.
He pulled out and then pounded back into me, hard. The desk jerked beneath us as he slowly started to move faster, squeezing at my throat to keep me firmly in place. And just like before, all of it was animalistic, both of us searching for that release, uncaring of how hard and rough we worked for it. None of it bothered me this time. I loved every second of him inside of me, didn’t care at all about how dirty it was, because I wanted to be dirty. I wanted all of his filthy ways. The dynamite ignited inside of me, and I gasped at the euphoric wave that followed. I grasped at his arm, digging my fingernails into it as the feeling warmed my body.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
“Oh, my God,” I breathed out, shaking around him.
He didn’t stop moving inside of me, but his hand went up my neck, gripping a chunk of my hair. He leaned over me, his hot mouth skirting along my skin, sucking and biting at my shoulder, neck and mouth.
“Fuck yes,” he muttered.
Then he looked at me, and I saw the vulnerability in his eyes as he reached the edge and flew over, stopping abruptly inside of me as he came. The pleasure washed over his features, and I saw them clearly in the light as he whispered, “Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.”
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
And in that exact moment, after seeing those vulnerable pained eyes, I felt my chest crack a little. Felt the gap he’d created and wormed himself through.
The asshole had just touched my soul, and my eyes glistened at the realization.
I didn’t understand why, but my touch went from rough to gentle. I lightly ran my fingers through his hair as he came down, taking control of his breathing. I was tempted to hug him to me and keep him there, even long after we were aware of what we’d done, just so we could confront our strange relationship.
That didn’t end up happening.
Awkwardly, he pushed off of me – and out of me – and buckled himself up, his eyes for once avoiding my own. I sat up, a little dizzy and wobbly, and he steadied me with a hand on my arm, helping me off the desk. I pushed my skirt down in place and buttoned up my blouse, all the while watching him flounder around. He seemed genuinely out of it, picking up the papers, fixing up the monitor that had somehow crashed to the ground, although I couldn’t remember when in the midst of our fucking that had happened.
In silence, I helped him tidy up. We both saw the torn up thong at the same time, and we hesitated for a moment before he bent down and picked it up. I went to reach out for it, but he shoved it into his pocket without a word and continued the clean-up.
Oh, my God, that had been exquisite. Another mind-blowing anger bang.
Afterwards, he collapsed into his chair, looking nothing like the confident pissy Borden I knew. He stared down at his desk, and I couldn’t read him, couldn’t know what he was thinking. But I had a feeling he wanted to be alone. I grabbed my bag and turned to him. Without thinking, I bent down and lightly brushed my lips against his cheek.
>
“Good bye, Mr Borden,” I whispered shakily.
I escaped the room straight after, not brave enough to see his reaction.
Borden
Borden was fucked.
Truly and overly fucked.
How? How had he let it get this far? He couldn’t say no to her. The little alley cat had somehow knocked his defences down, for once making him feel powerless.
Borden could still smell the sex in the air an hour after she’d left. Could still smell her fucking passionfruit body spray she doused herself in. Could still feel her decadent lips against his. Could feel the red-hot pain she left on his cheek after she slapped him.
She was fucking perfect, and that was the damn problem. He didn’t want her to be perfect. Fucking hell, Kate was the only person meant to be perfect for him, and yet Emma replaced his idea of perfection without him even realizing it.
I’m sorry Kate.
He’d always told himself he’d never move on. That would be a serious insult to Kate. She was the only one meant to have possessed his heart. Fucking hell, after her death he wasn’t meant to even have one anymore. Yet he felt an ache there, and more colours surfaced. Colours fucking everywhere with that black-haired doll around.
Panic set in.
He couldn’t lose himself to another woman again. He’d never survive the pain of it if something happened. He’d be to blame, and the blame would physically kill him.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Twenty-One
Emma
“Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” Granny asked after pulling the sausage rolls out of the oven.
I looked up from my mud cake and at her. I could decide to play dumb, or I could just tell her the truth and face her scorn.
“Like what?” I replied with instead.
She crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter as she took me in. Her face was grave, and I knew she was waiting for me to let it out.