by N. Michaels
“I don’t think this is very professional.” I avert my eyes, hearing my voice so husky and needy; I barely recognize it as my own.
Mr. Miller tightens his arms around me when I try to wiggle my way out of his domineering hold.
“No, it isn’t. This unprofessionalism will last until the song ends. After that, I am your boss and you are my employee.” He growls, his voice barely above a whisper.
My early hope of proof has died as quickly as it came. He just wants to show me he can dance.
Arrogant prick.
I swallow hard and slide my mask on, “All right then.” I look deep into his eyes, and my lips lift with a sweet deadly smile.
If all I have is this one dance, I will make sure it will be a dance he’ll remember.
I manage to slide my arms upward, out of his hold and turn to face him, still in his arms. I set my arms on top of his shoulders and link my fingers behind his neck. His silky hair brushes and tickles my fingers, feeling as silky as I had imagined. Mr. Miller’s arms tighten around my waist, pulling me even closer to him, molding my body to his. Driving me crazy with those sensual movements of his hips. My movements meet his perfectly, which makes me wonder about how amazingly mind-blowing we could be in bed. Not that I will ever get a chance to find out…
I push that thought aside and focus on driving him wild, rubbing my soft full breasts against his hard pectorals with each shift of my torso. I throw my head back and my neck arches. I close my eyes, letting the beat take control of my body, relishing the sinful way his body feels, how his hands hold me close to him, possessively. I feel Mr. Miller’s warm breath on my neck, right before he nuzzles it with his nose, then nips it quickly.
I gasp as my eyes fly open at the touch of his nose gliding up and down my slender throat.
“You smell so delicious. I can tell you’re turned-on.” He rumbles.
A soft moan escapes my lips, and I bite my lower lip to get myself back in control. I lift my head and look into his eyes, lifting my perfectly arched brow.
“I can feel you, you know.” I whisper.
And he feels big… God damn it. There is no winning with him. There is always some type of a rule to complicate things.
A quiet growl rolls in his chest as Mr. Miller’s mesmerizing eyes burn with pure and basic male hunger. His arms tighten around me and he lowers his face to mine.
I want to taste you so bad… kiss me!
I tilt my head back and run my tongue over my dry lips, but then his face hardens. Mr. Miller closes his eyes and takes a deep cleansing breath. When his eyes open, they are cool and calm, all the fire and lust gone.
I hate how easily he shuts me out. How strong his control is. It makes me feel weak, like some wild animal that can’t control it’s basic urges. It makes me want to break his precious control.
As the last notes of the song play out, Mr. Miller’s embrace loosens and he starts pulling away from me. Reluctantly, I slide my hands down his powerfully cut arms, feeling each muscle tense and the heat that is radiating from him, scorching my palms.
“You’re a great dancer. Your body surrenders itself to the music so completely…” Mr. Miller’s voice trails off as he leads me back to our table.
“I use to dance ballet since I was six. I stopped when I was fifteen. They wanted me on a strict diet that I couldn’t follow… I love food to much.” the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“That explains why you move like a professional dancer.” He smiles a genuine smile that pinches my heart.
“And you? How did you learn to move like a panther on prowl?” I ask.
I settle into my seat and pick up my Mojito, drawing the cool and minty cocktail into my mouth. I watch Mr. Miller’s lips move but I don’t hear him, instead I hear that song. My blood turns into ice and I feel my face pale. The drink halts in my throat then trickles into my air pipe. I cover my mouth and cough as hard as I can, feeling the burn of the rum at the back of my throat. Mr. Miller reaches out to me but I hold my hand up, stopping him and continue coughing, trying to breath through the fire and overly sweet aftertaste. I finally stop coughing and inhale rapidly, heaving for air. Slowly, I turn my head, looking for Mark. His eyes burn with rage and an ugly sneer forms on his lips. He did that on purpose. He must be beyond pissed.
Marilyn Manson’s voice still makes my skin crawl. ‘Tainted Love’... how apt.
I feel Mark’s eyes piercing mine, trying to remind me of that disgusting night, but I need no reminder. I force myself to restart my brain. I’m not upset… no, this is not me feeling horrifying fear or sadness, this is me feeling pure, undiluted rage. I’m pissed off. I find my clutch, holding it so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“Excuse me.” I say to Mr. Miler without even a glance.
He had to do it… had to mess with me one more time. Well, I’m not going to sit here and reminisce. This is not a walk down memory lane. Swiftly I rise, escaping to the top floor as quickly as I can without running. The moment I clear the stairs, I feel an arm wrapping around my middle, yanking me to a side corridor I’ve never noticed. It’s dark and a flash of panic flares in me. I scream, but my voice is drowned by the thundering music.
“Shh… it’s me. Relax, it’s just me.” Mr. Miller says softly into my ear.
His firm body presses me against the wall in a dark corner. I notice now a small lamp that’s mounted on the wall, providing a weak illumination and release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know it was you.” I keep my eyes on everything but Mr. Miller’s face.
He really affects me. Damn it.
All the furious thoughts of Mark and that night vanish from my head as Mr. Miller grounds me to the wall. His intoxicating scent surrounds me like wisps of smoke, slowly stealing my sanity. He lifts his hand and caresses my cheek so softly; so tenderly, I feel my eyes prickle with unshed tears.
Why are you being so fucking tender? So fucking perfect, when you won’t let me have you?
Mr. Miller’s fingers move to my chin, picking it up slightly so I have no other choice but to look into his hypnotizing eyes. I find them stormy with too many emotions. It’s impossible to decipher what’s going on in his mind. Slowly, his fingers make their way back to my cheek.
“Are you all right? You just stormed off…” his voice fades away as his eyes study my face, finally settling on my eyes.
“I’m fine… I just don’t feel so good. I’m going to… to head back.” I manage to say while his long fingers caress my cheek unfalteringly.
“Your eyes are so beautiful, you are so beautiful,” he whispers.
Mr. Miller’s brows furrow slightly and I see emotions passing in his eyes, like some sort of internal battle he’s having with himself. His eyes keep changing their focus from my eyes to my lips, and I feel the air thinning as I breathe shallowly in anticipation.
Just kiss me already!
I wait and wait but Mr. Miller does nothing but press me against the wall, his eyes settling on my lips and in a moment of pure insanity, I throw my arms around his neck and pull his sinful mouth to mine.
His lips are soft and warm and he tastes like his drink and his own unique flavor that makes me want to devour him for eternity. I drop my clutch to the floor, my fingers knot in his soft and silky hair. Mr. Miller stiffens, but doesn’t pull back, so I tilt my head back, giving him a better angle. I run my tongue over the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open up but he remains frozen. Impatiently, I bite his lower lip hard and tug it back, forcing his lush lips open.
A deep moan rises in his throat but it sounds more animalistic than human and surprisingly, it ignites my blood and my insatiable desire for him further, making me want him even more, and then Mr. Miller is kissing me back. Really kissing me, possessively, powerfully, claiming my mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and the world disappears. The booming music fades away and all I hear is the desperate inhales we sneak through our imp
assionate kiss, all I feel is Mr. Miller’s tongue delving into my mouth, massaging mine with wicked skill. His hand moves from my cheek to the nape of my neck, holding me the way that he wants me, while his right hand grabs my thigh, pulling it up and around his hips. Opening me so he could press his hardness into my now damp sex. Yes, yes… finally. Let me have you…
Mr. Miller swallows my gasps and moans as our kiss intensifies, consuming every part of me. His expert tongue strokes mine with such hunger I lose myself, completely at his mercy and it makes me want to lose myself in him forever. All my thoughts are on Mr. Miller, on his hard body rubbing against mine, his strong hands holding me captive and his lust that’s burning through me and around me. My skin is burning up under his hands and every erotic caress of his relentless tongue, drives me wilder, making me think about his seductive tongue between my thighs.
The peaks of my breasts harden and beg for attention, so I press them harder against his chest to relieve the ache. Mr. Miller groans and rolls his hips into mine, while my hands move on their own accord, sliding down to his ass and pressing him tighter against me. Slowly, the hand holding my nape lowers to my breast. Kneading the heavy weight gently then firmly. Mr. Miller dips his fingers into my bra and rolls my stiff nipple between his fingers, toying with it softly and roughly, alternating the maddening sensations that I feel all the way down to my needy clit. I grind my swollen slick flesh against his raging erection, trying to relieve the pressure that is building up in me like a wild fire. Mr. Miller releases my mouth and lowers to my neck, continuing to kiss and suck my skin, ravishing me with his scorching hot mouth. Desperately, I gasp for air. My heart is pounding and I feel so alive, like never before.
If Mr. Miller would’ve wanted to take me right here in this dark corner, I don’t think I would’ve minded, or even stopped.
I let out a needy moan as his teeth bite my earlobe. And then the hand on my thigh squeezes me painfully, which turns me on even more. Definitely will leave a bruise.
Abruptly, Mr. Miller stops moving. He presses his forehead to my shoulder and I hear him panting just as hard as I am. Gently, he lowers my thigh and removes his hand from my bra. Mr. Miller pulls away and leans against the wall across me. He runs his hands through his now mussed up hair and takes a deep breath.
I’m barely standing on shaky legs and out of breath. I look at him, trying to understand what just happened. I feel devastated at the sudden loss of his touch, and what a touch… if before all I could do is imagine how Mr. Miller would feel like pressed against me, what he would taste like, the warmth of him and my God… his hardness… well, now I know. And now I’m fucked. Royally.
Because now… well, now I know what I can’t have, and I know I’m going to go insane trying to maintain a professional relationship, when all I can think about is how Mr. Miller felt against me and how he might feel inside me. I try to tame my breathing and lean my head against the wall, closing my eyes.
“Why do you fight it?” I whisper.
“Because this is wrong. I lost my head for a moment. I’d blame the alcohol but that would be a lie.”
I open my eyes at the tone of his voice, looking at his lovely face that’s now marred with disappointment. Mr. Miller straightens and takes a step forward, “We can’t do this, Katherine. Not if you want to keep your job. It’s a line I’m not willing to cross.”
I pout lightly, hurt and annoyed.
We’ve already crossed the line… but whatever makes you feel better, boss.
“Ok. But just so we’re clear, it takes two to tango. If you want me to be professional, you have to stop behaving like Casanova. You’re not helping.”
Mr. Miller’s lips pick up into a rueful smile, “I know.”
I lift an eyebrow and slightly shake my head. “I’m not a toy to be play with.” I snap and he takes another step forward, looming over me with a sharp gaze.
“I know, and I’m not playing with you. I told you, it’s hard for me not to react to you. You seem to know every button of mine that needs to be left alone, yet you press them regardless.” He frowns.
“I’m going to head back to the suite.” I look away from Mr. Miller’s penetrating eyes.
I can’t believe he just said that. Total player line.
I pick my clutch off the floor and start walking out of the dark corner.
“I’ll come with you.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “You can’t. Eliza is still here and I’m sure she’s not feeling well. You need to take care of her.” I lie.
I could care less how she’s doing at the moment. The truth is, I just want to be left alone right now. I know a player when I see one, and I know when is the right time to walk away.
CHAPTER NINE
I enter the suite and sigh with relief. I need to be soaking in the tub, relaxing. As I strip down and remove my jewelry and make-up, images from tonight flash in my mind. Patrick’s white rose – which I forgot in the lounge - dancing with him, Mark’s note and song dedications. Blocking that song out, I focus on the memory that shook me the most, physically and emotionally, the way my body responded to Mr. Miller’s.
I settle down in the tub, filled with hot water and scented oils and try to relax, but my body is too worked up. My skin hums with phantom caresses that glide over me, where Mr. Miller’s hands touched me, where his hardness rocked against me. My breasts still heavy and my aching clit is demanding relief.
I try to unwind but the visions of the way we swayed together flash before my eyes. The way Mr. Miller’s breathe heated my ear as he whispered to me, his possessive hold around me, the tantalizing sound of his animalistic growls and the way he grabbed my thigh that turned me on so bad. I have never been kissed with that much intensity that I forgot where I am, forgot everything but the desperate need to have him.
I remember the press of Mr. Miller’s soft lips against mine. Instinctively, the tips of my fingers reach to my mouth. I touch my swollen lips, gently running my fingers back and forth. I close my eyes and I can still feel his demanding kiss, feel the hunger in his movements. I focus on that memory and my breathing quickens with my heartbeat. If I concentrate enough, I can even feel the lustful pressure of his hardness pressed against me, those maddening hip rolls that drove me wild.
My left hand leaves my lips, sliding down to my firm breasts. I knead them, pulling gently on the rose pink nipples, thinking about Mr. Miller’s hand rolling and pinching them instead. My right hand drops from the edge of the tub into the water, slowly making its way down, gliding lower from my stomach, past the pubic bone until finally finding the soft, sensitive flesh.
Lightly, I circle my clit with the pads of my fingers. I focus on the memory of the sensation of Mr. Miller’s body pressed against me, the feel of his muscles flexing under my hands, his tongue in my mouth, tasting me, stroking me with an all-consuming erotic rhythm.
I bite my lower lip as I feel the pleasure building slowly inside my body, making me breath shallowly, producing small moans and gasps as I relive the most erotic kiss I ever received. Needing relief, I lower my hand slightly and push two fingers inside my clenching sex, circling the hard knot of nerves with my thumb. My hips circle as the blazing sensation rises, I picture Mr. Miller’s fingers inside me, teasing and fucking me while his lips take mine in lustful hunger. My mind is overflowing with glimpses of Mr. Miller’s stormy eyes piercing mine, his reddish lips after our kiss and his mussed up hair. The visual is so vivid, it pushes me to the edge and I come with a slow deep moan.
When I come down from my post-orgasmic high, I realize there is no future to ever having him if the desire to have one another, does not come from both sides. I shake my head, trying to rid of those sexy as hell memories and steady my breath. I have to stop thinking about Mr. Miller… but how can I? He’s destroying me, undoing me inch by inch. His damned control pushes me forward, driving me to break it.
Oh God… I’m too tired to think about all of this right now.
After
my sating bath, I pull on a silky, cream lace applique slip with a matching thong and surrender to my sleepiness, burying myself under the sheets. I’ll figure out how to handle this situation in the morning, when my mind is clear and my energy is replenished.
The loud pounding on the door pulls me out of my deep sleep. I rub my eyes and try to understand what’s going on. As I become more and more alert, I realize the banging is real and not a part of my dream as I first thought.
Worried, I spring out of bed, grabbing my matching silk robe and tying it quickly. I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand and the horrid feeling in my stomach intensifies as I read the time, four twenty three a.m.
Something must have happened.
I rush to my door and open it wide. Except, there is no one there. Frowning, I walk out of my room and follow the sound of the knocks, which are changing in rhythm and intensity. I come to a full stop in front of the entrance door of our suite and without a second thought, I open a small crack, trying to peek outside but the door is flung open from the other side, sending me back a few good feet away from it. I look up at the man that is filling the doorframe with alarm. I try to move but I realize I’m frozen, paralyzed with fear.
“M… Mark?” I manage to whisper pass the tightness in my throat. “What… what are you doing here? How did you even know I’m staying here?”
I watch as he walks inside, slamming the door behind him. I notice that his eyes are foggy and he reeks of hard liquor.
God dammit!
“You thou’ you coo walk away jus’ like tha?” slurring his words, Mark tumbles down towards me and I move back instinctively.
“Mark, you’re drunk. Go to your room, you need to leave.” I hold up my hands, saying the words slowly and calmly as if I am talking to an upset child.