by R. J. Lewis
“You haven’t been yourself,” she said. “You’ve retreated into your old shell, and from past experiences, I know that’s not always a good thing.”
“Well, it’s not one of those times, I promise.”
“Then let me in, darling.”
I sighed, pushing away the plate. I stared at the dish for several moments before muttering, “You know how I said I took another job?”
She was nervous. “Yes.”
Another long sigh, another few moments. “I’m working for Marcus Borden.”
Her lips parted and her arms dropped to their sides. “You’re not serious, Emma.”
I nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Ugh. The eyes of judgement followed. I looked away, cringing because she’d been so happy to hear about me in a new job. Now it meant nothing.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No.”
“Has he hurt you?”
I snuck a glance in her direction. She looked pale, her eyes swimming in tears. It broke my heart.
“No, Granny,” I answered gently. “He hasn’t.”
“You have marks all over your body, Emma. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
How the hell did she notice those? I’d tried covering them up. They weren’t bad, though. Just light bruises around my shoulders, and bite marks on my chest and up my neck. I’d covered them with make-up before coming. Maybe the damn lighting gave it away.
“Those weren’t…” I paused, searching for the right words without seeming like a freaky hussy. “He hasn’t hurt me, okay? Just trust me on that.”
To be more specific: He hasn’t hurt me in a bad way.
“I just don’t understand how this could have happened, Emma.”
She threw her mittens off and abandoned the rest of the sausage rolls ready for the oven. She walked over, her steps slow, reminding me how frail she really was, and sat down next to me.
“Haven’t I warned you enough about that man?”
“Yes, you have, but he’s nothing like you’ve made him out to be.”
“You need to quit, Emma. As soon as possible before he sets his claws into you.”
His claws were already in my heart. “That’s not what’s happening, Granny.”
She blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Does this have to do with what he looks like? He’s gorgeous, I know that, but looks aren’t as they seem –”
“No, they’re not, and I learned that about Joel. Remember him? The guy you set me up with? He was crazy.”
Her dark eyes popped out. “What?”
“Yeah, he was Dr I-Love-Death. Kept going on about prison and circling an area some dude died in, Granny. My point is, sometimes you’re wrong about things. Now, I get that Borden has issues, but he’s treated me well, and I’m not going to quit the job because you want me to.”
It was hard being firm to her about it. I knew she was coming from a good place, but I wasn’t prepared to be told to quit. Because quitting meant quitting Borden and I couldn’t do that. I just hoped she’d let it go before I let that pathetic admission slip.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she told me simply, her voice giving away how rattled she was.
“I do.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Your mother said the same thing about your father, and look what happened. He broke into her soul and tore her apart until she was so threatened by him, she killed him. Men can bring out the worst in us, Emma.”
I tensed, like she’d jolted me. There were no words for that. I just stared at her, wide-eyed. She never spoke of her daughter, of my mother. It was a topic we’d silently buried years ago.
She drifted away from me for the next hour I was there. She hardly said a word. Instead, she stood back up and finished the rolls. She packed them away and gave me the Tupperware containers, all the while her eyes avoided mine.
“I’m going to bed,” she told me, lightly brushing her hand over my cheek before moving away. “You take care of yourself, Emma.”
She left to her room and I trekked outside a short distance to Moustache Man’s car, all the while feeling like crap. I regretted telling her. I could have lied and pretended all was good. She’d never have known about Borden, and she’d never have given me that look of disappointment.
“Smells good,” Moustache Man said after I’d climbed inside the car.
I gave him a container of rolls. “You can have a try.”
He munched on them all the way home, while I glumly stared out the window. Anyone would be frightened of my situation, but Borden eliminated my fear of him by bringing me into that office.
“How many women have you seen Borden with?” I wondered aloud.
Moustache Man paused mid-bite. “None.”
My mouth dropped as I turned to look at him. “Really? None at all?”
“Sometimes the men like to shoot a few women his way, but they’ve only stayed in his company for a couple minutes before he tosses them out.”
“Wait, where does he do this?”
“At his apartment. He wouldn’t dream of doing it at work if that’s what you’re thinking. Borden’s always been professional in his office with his head in the game at all times. Women haven’t really done anything for him since…well.”
“Since Kate Davenoth.”
He glanced at me, a grim look on his face. “Precisely.”
I wanted to pry for more, but I held myself back. It would be wrong getting information out of someone else other than Borden himself.
We talked lightly about other things after that. He dropped me off at my apartment, and I showered. Borden occupied every single space of thought that evening.
I ate some rolls and called Blythe for a catch-up.
“Wish there was good news to report,” she said, glumly.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Well, Denny’s talking about closing the diner down. He’s not making enough and he’s in a shit load of debt. I’ve started applying for other jobs, but…I don’t know, nothing’s popping up.”
“Is Tessa searching too?”
“Yeah, but she’s not in any rush. Says her boyfriend’s happy to float her for a while until something comes up. Frankly, I told her she shouldn’t depend on a guy’s word.”
I frowned. “Why? Not all guys are terrible, Blythe.”
She paused on the other end, and then, “Is that right? You used to go on about being single and how great it is, and now your tune’s changed? Tell me how that happened.”
I was itching to let her know about Borden. I needed a sounding board, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, sceptically.
We talked for a little while longer before she had to go. I browsed the internet for a while, exhausting more Borden searches. My body weakened at the pictures of him, and I wondered how the hell I’d gone from hating the man to feeling like this for him.
*
Tuesday arrived after a long night from hell and there Borden was, sitting behind his desk, hard eyes on me the second I stepped into the office. Casual clothes today: black long sleeved shirt with the sleeves pulled up, revealing the tattoos on his tanned skin. I tried to smile politely at him, but his lips didn’t flinch in response.
“Good morning,” I said cheerfully, shutting the door behind, wondering if my tone was overdone since I was faking it.
“It’ll be a good morning with you dropping to your knees,” he replied severely.
I froze. Well, that escalated quickly.
I looked at him, waiting for him to crack a joke, order me to sit down – something. But he just stared, waiting.
“Um, what?”
“Drop to your knees. I haven’t seen you in over thirteen hours, and I’ve got blue balls from hell. And don’t look at me like I’m being crude. You’re a little minx when you want to be, so stop pretending this isn’t what you want.”
I glanced dow
n at the plush red carpet, debating silently just how far I wanted us to go. Did I want him to order me around like this? And dropping down on my knees?
“Do it, Emma.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I asked, pushing my boundaries.
He chuckled condescendingly. “Is that what you want to play at? Trying to show me you still have one apprehensive bone in your body? We’ve long passed that point, doll. Get on your fucking knees.”
“I’m not that kind of girl,” I replied, enforcing strength into my tone. “I don’t go on my knees for anybody just because they tell me to.”
“Then I guess I’m the exception.”
I should have been offended and angry – yeah, more angry than offended, really. But I knew what it felt like being taken by him, and it was exquisite…and addictive.
Plus, I’d gone on my goddamn knees the first time he took me. This wasn’t so different.
He didn’t repeat himself, but I saw the demand in his eyes as he continued to watch me internally debate with this. Only, I was fighting the inevitable. He’d get his way, and not because he’d force it, but because I would ultimately succumb to the want of being possessed by him. It was a rush, firing every nerve-ending with adrenaline.
My face heated as I slowly let go of the nagging voice in my head. I dropped to my knees, setting my purse down beside me. I kept my eyes focused on the floor, part of me uncertain, the other coiled in anticipation.
I heard him standing up and take a few steps, and when I risked a look, he was leaning back against his desk, arms crossed over his wide chest, the move stressing his bulging biceps. He appeared both intimidating and mouth-watering all at once, and I felt a lick of fire at the pit of my belly.
“Crawl to me,” he ordered softly.
Jesus, was he obsessed with pushing me out of my comfort zone?
I hesitated again, some deep part of me dismayed by the idea of actually having to move on my knees and hands. I let out a breath, and without thinking, I started to move slowly in his direction. I could feel the burn of his gaze on me, on the movement of my hips and shoulders.
I imagined what I must look like to him, this tiny little body dressed to impress, hair up, black tendrils falling and framing a half-cast heart shaped face, crawling in a straight line to a man more than double her size. Strangely enough, I felt sexy and wanted. His desire for me was written all over his face and it was that look alone that gave me strength to carry on.
I stopped in front of him and slowly looked up. He dropped his arms to his sides, one hand resting on the top of my head.
“You’re too fucking perfect,” he murmured in astonishment. “Hard yet adaptable. It’s the biggest turn on seeing you submit, and you like it, don’t you?”
“Only when it’s you,” I whispered, my throat closing up at the admission. I averted my gaze, not wanting him to see the affection that lurked in the depths. Caring felt like a weakness, yet I wanted to confront that emotion and share it with him.
He silently watched me, and maybe seconds passed, maybe minutes.
“Unbutton me,” he breathed out shakily.
On my knees, my hands flew to his jeans, eager in my movements. I unbuttoned him and pulled his zipper down, glancing up at his heavy smouldering eyes as he watched me fixedly. He didn’t need to give me more instructions. I pulled his briefs down and wrapped my hand around his length, slowly stroking him. He was hard already when I took him into my mouth. His hand fisted in my hair, and his body tensed. A soft guttural grown escaped his lips as I sucked him. The lick of fire inside of me burst into flames, and I squeezed my thighs together, searching for some kind of relief for the throbbing I felt there.
I took my time savouring him, licking a trail up and down his shaft. He rolled his hips, thrusting himself in and out of my mouth, squeezing hard at my hair as he shuddered above me. He was impossibly thick by the time he pushed me away, holding me a foot away from his cock, staring down at me in a fog of lust and hard-pressed lips.
“You like sucking me?” he asked heatedly.
“Yes,” I answered.
He shoved me forward again, and I opened my mouth to bring him back into it, but he grabbed at his cock before I got there and shoved the head of it in between my lips. He pumped a few times, his breaths growing heavier, and then he pulled out, slapping his cock against my cheek, wetting it.
“Fuck,” he cursed.
Then he pulled me up on my feet and forced me to stand in front of the desk. He moved behind me and carefully pushed my upper body down until my cheek was resting against his desk. My heart was battering in my chest, my breaths were unsteady, and my sex wet and needy. I heard him shuffle behind me, felt his hands roaming up my legs, and my skin tingled deliciously under his hot touch. He pulled my skirt up, bunching it around my hips, exposing my backside to him. I wore another pair of sexy thongs – score on me – and he delicately peeled it off of me.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered.
I spread them inch by inch, and that rush of adrenaline only intensified as I waited for what was to come. I felt breaths on my thighs, and I squeezed my eyes shut, unbearably anxious. His hands settled on each of my cheeks, and then I felt the sweetest thing.
A long and soft lick along my sex. It was almost too much. I shook, moaning out. My hands fisted against the table as he did it again and again, torturing me with his incredible mouth. It was the most intense oral sex of my life. He moved deliberately slow, at a pace that intensified the feeling. So experienced, he drew out my pleasure, sucking at the right time and with the right kind of pressure.
“Please, please,” I begged.
“You want to come?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“I want you inside of me first.”
Because as much as I loved the thought of coming against his mouth, I wanted to come around his dick more. He wasted no time standing up, positioning me against him. Gripping my thighs, he thrusted inside of me. I jumped at the abruptness, and then grinded my ass against him. He growled in pleasure and drove himself in and out of me, hard and fast, filling me, stretching me, until I was aching in pain and pleasure.
“Put your arms behind your back,” he demanded, gruffly.
When I did, he gripped both my wrists in his large hand, fucking me hard as he gripped them to him. The other hand felt my ass, and too lost in my quest for pleasure, I didn’t notice what he was about to do until it happened.
SLAP! Right across my ass, making my sex clench tighter around his cock and driving out more feverish moans from me. The pain morphed to pleasure as he did it again, and the shock turned to anticipation. Every slap drove me closer to that sweet escape, and just as I was about to approach the peak, he pulled me off the table, pressing my back against his front and rubbed my clit, sending me straight over. My head fell back over his shoulder and I cried out. He slowed down for me to feel the pleasure in all its intensity, and then he sucked at my throat, sharply thrusting only once, twice inside me before he stopped and came hard, cursing like he always did.
Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
Yeah, holy fuck was right, Mr Borden.
There was no awkwardness after he pulled out of me this time. He brushed my hair aside and neatened up my skirt. When I turned to him, he stared at me in a way that left me breathless.
“You’re insatiable,” he whispered, lightly brushing his fingers across my cheek. “I think I’m a little attached to that mouth and body.”
“Likewise, Mr Borden.”
Leaning a little closer to me, he kissed me lightly on my mouth and uttered, “Don’t fuck another man when you’re in my bed, okay?”
Staring into his serious blue eyes, I ignored the warning in them and nodded. “Okay.”
*
To say we were very unprofessional was an understatement. Borden fucked me every day at his office that entire week, and the more he took me, the more we craved one another. At first, it was rough and hard, but as the days wore on,
Borden eased himself into me with a growing gentleness, savouring my body slowly, as he pulled me against him, kissing me through my orgasms and holding me to him long afterwards.
Sex with him had grown into something different. Every time he took me, something grew there between us. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, and I thought it was in my head, but his eyes spoke of a warmth that was reserved solely for me, and I blossomed for him.
I was entirely at his mercy.
I was weak, and I didn’t mind it.
I’d let a bad man into my heart, and I didn’t want the bad man to leave it.
Twenty-Two
Borden
“You keep staring at me like that, and I’ll fuck you again.”
Her face flushed and she turned back to her computer, smiling. Borden smiled too because she was that infectious. She still looked like a downright mess. The just-fucked look suited his alley cat to a tee.
He hadn’t grown tired of her once. It was baffling. His curiosity only grew, his need intensified too, and he was finding himself desperately powerless in her company. He liked the feel of her around him. His body warmed every time she gently smoothed her fingers over his hair after he’d roughly fucked her.
One could get used to that kind of touch.
“I’m not sure you can go another round after all that strenuous effort,” she muttered, tapping away on her keyboard like she was busy. But she wasn’t fucking busy.
“Don’t test me,” he warned her, smirking. “This dick is capable of pulling off a lot of miles on that sweet body.”
She pressed her lips down hard, resisting another smile. “Mr Borden, I am trying to work. Stop sexually harassing me.”
He couldn’t help the laugh escaping his mouth. “Is that what I’m doing?”
“Yes, and you can get into a lot of trouble.”
“And who do you think is going to want to fuck with me, babe? There’s not a single person I can’t buy off.”
Emma paused. “There are good people left in this world, you know.”
“I wish I were that gullible.”
Now she scowled at him. “Cynic.”
“I prefer the term realist.”
“Yeah, well, fuck your term.”