by Cecy Robson
Yet what ultimately caused Wren to embrace the house is the security it represents. I’ve forced Bryant out of her life, blocking any calls to her desk with careful screening and assigning my car service to drive her home when I work late.
“Yup, they’re all coming,” she says. “Including, Teo and his family, his sister Lety and her fiancée Brody. Which is why I had to order so much food. I won’t learn to cook anything decent between now and then, especially for all the mouths we have to feed.”
“That is a large number of people,” I agree, my hands gliding to her lower back and further yet. “Perhaps I should prepare something as well?”
“No, you already do enough. Besides, if my brothers find out you cooked, they’re going to make you get a tattoo on your face, ride a bull, wrestle an alligator, or some other shit so they don’t revoke your man card. This way everyone eats, everyone is happy, and no one gets inked—unless you want ‘Wren O’Brien is hot and rocks my world’, scribbled on your ass. If so, I’m cool with that. I’ll get one that matches.”
“And what will yours say?” I ask.
“‘Damn right’ with an arrow pointing,” she says. “What else would it say?”
I laugh, sweeping my lips along her neck. She groans and pulls away. “Babe, I have to get to the caterer before they close.”
“Very well,” I grumble, causing her to giggle.
I loosen my hold, allowing her to stand and rising slowly. She seems in a rush and is already dressed by the time I pull up my trousers.
“Where are you going?” she asks, pausing as she finishes applying her lipstick.
I slip my arms through my white dress shirt. “With you,” I reply.
“No way. There’s only one thing I want you to do while I’m gone and that’s relax.” She stops in front of me, her nymph’s demeanor returning as her stare passes along my torso. “Okay, maybe one more thing.”
She crouches in front of me, parting the sides of my shirt and swiping her lipstick across my skin. “Uh, uh, uh,” she says when I try to see what she’s doing. “No peeking until I’m done.”
The muscles along my chest twitch as she passes the lipstick in slick, smooth motions. She falls to her knees, focusing hard on her task as she moves to my stomach.
I’m trying not to think about how she’s inches from my groin, yet with her so close and in this position, it’s a challenge.
I gather her hair, whispering low. “What are you up to?”
“Just letting you know what to do while I’m gone.”
Her voice trails as I harden and she sighs with longing.
“What the hell,” she says. “I have time.”
She wrenches my trousers down, breaking the zipper and pulling me in her mouth. I stumble forward, clamping my teeth.
Her lips fasten around me and her hands aggressively play. With the camera fixed on us, I have a full view of Wren’s profile and her skilled mouth, and how obsessed she is with pleasing me.
I don’t last long, not with everything I see, feel, and the audible pulls from her mouth and hands resonating in my ears. I double over, gripping the side of the couch.
Bloody hell. How does any man stand a chance against her?
She takes her time, her strokes decreasing in pace, her eyes never abandoning mine. It’s only when she knows I’m satisfied that she stands, scanning my chest.
“Nice,” she says, seemingly pleased with herself. “Later, bossman.”
Her hips twitch as she tosses her purse over her shoulder and walks away.
“Wren, wait.” I yank up my briefs and black trousers, swearing like madman when the fabric rubs against my throbbing tip. I pause when I finish fastening my belt and catch my image along the giant screens.
The corners of my lips tug into a smile as I spread the sides of my white dress shirt and read the two words written in hot pink across my torso. Two words that tell me exactly what she wants me to do while she’s gone.
CRAVE ME
She wants me to miss her, to crave her touch and her smile. She didn’t have to write it. It’s something I do every time she leaves me.
CHAPTER 22
Evan
When Wren started working for me and our relationship developed, I knew it would be impossible not to touch her. And when she moved in, I knew it wouldn’t be long before we began having sex in my office.
My office.
The place where brilliant minds gather, deals are made, and the sexiest woman alive spends the day swooping in and out, assuring I have everything I need.
Everything.
After getting a taste of watching us make love, I was looking forward to seeing our images on the twenty-eight screens in my office. Apparently so was she. “Adeptus is redefining the way all medicine is delivered,” I tell her, my words releasing with each pound of my hips.
Wren’s exposed breasts push through the opening in her blouse. I only managed to open the first two buttons and shove aside her bra before she hiked up her skirt and rubbed against me.
“Don’t stop,” she moans, whimpering as I tighten my grasp and thrust upward. “God, I love it when you speak nerd.”
I chuckle and nibble her ear, watching our enhanced images collide and discussing the engineering within the micro robots, all the while surrendering to the primal urges her body stirs.
She slumps against the conference table as she climaxes, sending the stack of reports in front of her flying across the marble surface. I steady her, hooking her waist and slowing my pace.
I lift my chin when we finish, meeting her grin reflecting back on me on the screen.
“I didn’t like this thing when I first saw it,” she reminds me. She wiggles. “But now, it’s not so bad.”
“It has its advantages,” I gasp, struggling to slow my breaths.
I kiss her and separate us carefully, swearing when I catch sight of the digital clock. “I have a meeting in twenty-two minutes, don’t I?”
She adjusts her thong and smooths out her skirt. “You do, but don’t blame me if you haven’t had time to prepare.”
I pull up my pants and shove my shirt inside. “Do I have to remind you this was your idea, my love? Not that I’m complaining.”
Her cheeks redden as they do every time I refer to her as “my love”. She turns around, her fingers moving quickly to button her blouse. Aside from her flushed skin and a few misplaced strands of hair, no one would suspect what happened between us.
She brushes her hair in place with her fingers, reaching for the reports scattered across the table. In another few minutes her skin tone will return to that fair shade, erasing the lingering evidence, not that I’ll forget as I look forward to the next.
I work on the buttons of my light blue shirt and straighten my tie as she stacks the folders into neat piles. “We didn’t get to play last night or this morning,” she reminds me. “My period is due in another three days and my fucking hormones are out of control.” She reaches for my jacket and passes it to me, watching as I slip it in place. “You were stressed when I brought your coffee.” She shrugs. “I was trying to help you relax. Besides, you know I don’t stand a chance when you wear your glasses. Don’t want me to straddle you, don’t wear the glasses. It’s a simple solution.”
I pull her against me, her body welding against mine when I kiss her. Despite my urgency I give the kiss the attention it deserves. “I’ll never deny you,” I tell her, slowly pulling away and frowning as I take another look at the time. “But now, I have to prepare.”
Her wavering smile reflects the extent of her emotions. These past few weeks, I’ve worked entirely too late, limiting our time.
She misses me. I miss us too, so consumed with the wheels I set in motion to fully enjoy the rare moments we’ve had alone.
“I know,” she says. “Can we have dinner alone tonight? Sometime around nine? I can have them hold a table for us at that steakhouse you like.”
“I can’t, I’m reaching out to my contacts in
Europe to give one last push for Ork and Adeptus.” I press a gentle kiss against her lips, releasing her slowly and wishing I didn’t have to.
There’s a great deal I need to read through before my meeting if we’re to implement the changes to our latest prototype. But I wait, watching Wren leave before returning to my desk.
As I lower myself into my chair, I realize how empty my office is without her. “Alfred, sleep room,” I say.
“Sleeping,” he calls, shutting off the multiple screens and blanketing that half of the room in darkness. I usually command Alfred to open the electronic shades the moment the sun rises. Wren’s visit gave me a good excuse to keep them closed.
She thinks I’m pulling away although that couldn’t be further from the truth. Everything I’m doing, all the aggressive steps I’m taking are for her and our future. I want to commit to her without the added weight of my business troubles. The time to strike is now. I can’t stop. Not if it risks my losing what I want for us.
I smile as I think how stunning she looks in that floral print blouse and skirt, and how her mere presence holds me in place.
With a sigh, I reach for the report I need to read before meeting with my engineers. I skim through it, frowning when something catches my attention on the second page. I cross out the microcontroller Keller chose, subbing it out with the newer model I’ve been researching, that is thinner, lightweight, and the material is stronger.
Someone knocks on my door as I scribble a question in the margins. “Come in,” I say, not bothering to glance up. The wiring the new lab intern suggests appears promising. I make a note to speak with John about hiring her, upon the completion of her doctorate.
“Hello, Evan.”
Ashleigh’s voice stops my pen in place. I remove my glasses and set them on the desk, cocking my head when it occurs to me how much she’s changed. If she hadn’t spoken, I wouldn’t have recognized her straight away.
Instead of her hair pulled up and away from her face, it hovers above her shoulders, held in place by the sunglasses perched on her head. The color is different too, dark yellow in tone rather than the white blonde I was accustomed to.
I only remember Ashleigh in suits, but today she’s in a sundress, the thin straps appearing to dig into her slender shoulders. She’s lost a fair amount of weight, though it’s not her appearance that makes her look softer. It’s her demeanor.
She’s not scowling, and her posture, while straight, isn’t as rigid as it once was, the familiar sense of superiority replaced by a quiet calm I would never expect from her.
“Still working hard, I see,” she says, motioning to the pile of work in front of me.
I don’t’ reply, waiting for her to explain why she’s here. “I, ah, thought I’d have trouble seeing you,” she says. “And I changed my mind about coming here more than once.” She looks around. “I expected you to revoke my clearance, which I assume you have, but you never banned my access into the building.”
“No,” I agree. My human resources and tech supervisors made sure Ashleigh was removed as an employee and that any attempts to take information would be blocked. But while she angered and insulted most of my staff, I never took that extra step to bar her from the premises. I couldn’t ignore the fact that I’d unintentionally hurt her, or that my father had insisted I show women kindness, regardless of how my mother had used and mistreated him.
Not that I miss Ashleigh, or welcome her presence. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you still seeing Wren?” She glances down when my features steel. “I thought you might be.”
I stand, prepared to come to Wren’s defense.
Ashleigh doesn’t go on the attack. At least not as I expect. “I’m here for you, Evan. To caution you,” she says, her palms opening. “She’s not who you think she is.”
“You’re referring to the woman I plan to marry. I warn you, watch what you say.”
Ashleigh’s lips part in shock. She straightens, her voice quivering. “Evan, she’s an amateur porn star—”
“What?” I storm around the desk. “Of all the lies you could spew and your attempts to disparage her, this is what you choose to tell me?”
“It’s true,” she says, angry tears forming in her eyes. She fumbles through her purse and removes a jump drive, holding it out at arms-length. “The link to the site is on here. Take it. You can see for yourself.”
My glare lifts from the jump drive to her face. “For crying out loud, Evan,” she says. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help. The firewall and all the protection you have will detect any virus before it can infect the system. There’s nothing you have to lose by opening it, so look.” Her voice softens as her tears spill from her eyes. “Please. Do this for yourself before you make a mistake that will cost you.”
I’m ready to throw her out, this time the right way, with security escorting her off the premises. Yet everything about Ashleigh is different, reinforcing that at the very least, she believes what she says.
I take the jump drive from hands, not because I trust her, but because I trust Wren. The moment I insert it into my computer, Alfred’s program latches onto it, searching for anything that can harm.
“Alfred status,” I say.
The system opens to a file titled “Evidence”.
“Safe passage, no malware detected,” Alfred says. “Open document and follow link?”
I frown in Ashleigh’s direction. “It’s the only thing on the drive,” she says. “It will show you everything you need to see.”
“Follow link in safe mode,” I say, my annoyance surging and my patience running thin.
“Safe mode initiated, iCronos systems blocked, opening link.”
My computer monitors light up one by one when Alfred reaches “Delicious Divas”. The name alone has me rolling my eyes, my distaste growing as each projects women in multiple positions and locales, their images fuzzy from poorly lit rooms and antiquated lens quality.
My gaze skips over each one. I scoff, wondering why hell I bothered to placate Ashleigh when my eyes fix on the bottom right corner.
“Come on,” the lovely brunette with sparkling eyes teases. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”
I lean in, my palm pressing against my desk when I realize that it’s Wren. My Wren. She looks younger, thinner than she is now as she strips down. I click onto the image, certain I’m wrong, assuring myself it can’t be her. But as more images of her scatter across each monitor, I know it’s her face I see.
There is a GIF of her with her legs open, touching herself, the image repeating each time her head lolls back. In the upper corner, I watch her back slide against a wall as a man, who isn’t me, rams his hips and lifts her body.
At the center she’s sprawled naked across the bed, one leg bent, the other straightened, her preferred position when she sleeps. Comments as recent as a week ago are typed below: requests to meet her, remarks that she’s their favorite to jerk off to, and detailed descriptions of what each commenter wants to do to her.
Another GIF flashes to my right. In this one, she’s tugging on her nipples, mouthing, “Touch me, touch me, touch me,” But it’s the video at the center that shatters my world.
This image is more recent, her body more like it is now, thin, with definition to her arms and legs. Her face lights up as she licks her lips and smiles, those few and familiar freckles gathered along her nose and cheek lifting as she opens her mouth and . . .
“Alfred, sleep,” I stammer, barely getting the words out as I straighten.
Nausea and fury roil for dominance in my stomach. The room becomes a vacant hole, devoid of sound and depleted of air. Inside me, a storm born of those vile images of gathers momentum.
“She goes by a different name,” Ashleigh says. “Ivory O’Malley or something like that.”
Ashleigh’s words stab at my brain. Ivory . . . the name her Grandmother O’Malley wanted her to have.
My lungs are pained as I work through
what I saw and heard. I want to break free of this mind-numbing fog I’m trapped in, find something to explain her actions away. But instead of finding a moment of clarity, of fucking reason, I remember her admitting how desperate she was for work when she graduated high school and how I wouldn’t believe what she had to do to make money. I stare at the screen protector as it passes along each monitor. It’s the one of me holding the Wren I know in my arms.
I don’t move, I can’t. Rage and humiliation prod me like blazing metal, branding me in agony.
I don’t know how long I stand there before there’s another knock on the door and John steps in. Behind him, the cluster of robotics engineers I am scheduled to meet halt in place, their enthusiasm and conversations dwindling when John blocks their passage.
He stands, frozen by the ire chiseled into my features. His attention hopping to Ashleigh briefly before returning to me. “Evan?” he says.
“Get out,” I respond, my voice unrecognizable.
He backs away. I barely register the sound of the closing door when Ashleigh edges closer. “I’m sorry, Evan,” she says. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, that wasn’t my intent.”
I shake my head in disbelief that Wren could ever engage in something like this. But I can’t deny the fact that it’s her.
“I’m sorry,” Ashleigh says again. “I didn’t know—” She clears her throat. “I didn’t know how hard you’d take this.”
“Get out,” I tell her, this time the words carrying all the weight of the devastation I feel.
“I don’t want to leave you like this,” she says.
I can’t imagine what I must look like, my pain as real as the day my father was buried in dirt, and remembering all the lies my mother fed him.
“Get out,” I repeat in that same dull tone.
I can’t look at Ashleigh, the images of Wren blinding me to my surroundings. The way Wren acted in the most recent image wasn’t the woman I recognize and love. Her motions were exaggerated and overtly vulgar, lacking the passion I’ve known so well.