by J. A. Huss
I can barely breathe, but I’m panting hard at the same time. That makes no sense. Nothing makes any sense at all.
He lifts my dress up, the air bathing my bare skin with a coolness that both excites me and makes me panic. “Wait,” I say.
His hands caress me. Over each round ass cheek. Down the front of each thigh. “Don’t waste my time, Miss Hatcher. Get up and pull yourself together, or lie still and take it.”
My mouth falls open at the audacity of this man. But he hooks his fingertips into the lace of my panties and slides them down. Not all the way down. Just far enough for him to get access. Just enough so they are positioned right in the crease where my cheeks meet my thighs.
“Goddamn,” he whispers, stepping back a pace or two.
His touch is gone and I turn my head a little to look over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying the view.” He grabs the thick bulge beneath the fabric of his trousers and squeezes. “I’ve barely touched you, but you look ready to me.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a condom. The crinkle of foil and the small rip as he opens up the package make me swallow with a little bit of fear and a whole lot of anticipation.
“You keep them on hand, do you?”
He places one hand on either side of my face and leans down, the weight of his body pressing against my back, the heat of his breath flowing over the sensitive skin on the back of my neck, his hard dick pressing right at my bare entrance. “I found them in Heath’s desk, Miss Hatcher. Now do you want this or not?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping I don’t regret it. “Yes.”
He stands back up and I want nothing more than for his body to cover me again. I want to feel him against me.
I am crazy. Why am I letting him do this?
A moment later his belt jingles and the zipper on his trousers makes a ripping sound. I wonder how big he is. I didn’t get a good look yesterday.
I feel the tip pressing against my opening and let out a soft moan.
“I hope you’re not a screamer,” he says, easing himself inside me a little bit. “Because Stephanie is only a few feet away on the other side of that door.”
His hands grip either side of my hips and he pulls my whole body towards him, making me slide on the sleek wooden desk. Oh, God. I might come right now.
Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come. Don’t let him get you so quickly again.
But then he leans down over my body again, one hand pressing on the desk next to my face, one hand sneaking under my thigh as he begins to caress my clit in small, slow circles.
He thrusts into me, hard. Hard enough to make me gasp.
“You are a screamer, aren’t you, Miss Hatcher. I can tell. But if you do it now, I will gag you with my tie and that will take away the few minutes I have left to fuck you good and make you come. So don’t.”
Holy shit. I have never been so turned on in my life. And everything he says is so stupid and caveman. I can’t help it though, it’s hot as hell.
He starts fucking me hard, and even though I try to control it, I can’t. I can’t. I start moaning loudly as the wave of pleasure quickly turns into a building climax.
“Shh,” he says, whispering the words close in my ear. That just sets me off more. He pulls my head up off the desk by my hair and cups his other hand around my mouth, pumping himself into me so fast, so hard, I—
“Shit!” I yell into his palm.
“Fuck,” he says. And once I stop yelling, he takes his hand away, places both of them back on my hips, and grips me so tight as he fucks me from behind, I fully expect to have bruises.
When he comes, he collapses down on top of my back again, his chest heaving with effort. Mine is doing the same because his full weight is pressing me against the wooden desk.
“I’m going to need you to sign a release form for this, Miss Hatcher. You won’t mind, since you’re already familiar with them. Stop by my office after you’re done playing Life Coach to the Stars and we’ll get the legalities of a workplace sexual relationship out of the way.”
And then he stands up, puts himself back together, and walks out of my office by way of our connecting doors.
Chapter Eleven - Ellie
Well, call me cheap and stupid.
Ellie Hatcher, you brought this on yourself.
I huff out a breath and stand up, pulling my dress back down over my hips and searching through my purse to find my compact.
Great, just great. I look well-fucked.
Did he pull my hair? It’s all messed up.
My phone buzzes and I search around for that, groaning as I see the caller ID. I press accept and exclaim, “Adeline! You’re here!”
“And you’re not,” she says in her sweet sing-song voice. “Where are you? Ming says you got an office in the Atrium.”
“I did, but hold tight. I’ll be there in five minutes.” I end the call, smack a new layer of lipstick on, and exit my office.
“Oh, Ellie?” Stephanie calls. “Stonewall said six o’clock is good for him.”
“Good for what?” I ask, cursing her for derailing my getaway.
“Your meeting tonight. He just left and said he’d be gone all day, but he’d be here at six for your appointment. His office, he said, not yours.”
“Fine,” I say, making a dash for the elevators.
Once the doors close and I’m alone, I let out a long breath. I just let my boss fuck me on my desk.
Heath’s desk, to be accurate. His smoking desk, because that’s what it was. A place where he entertained clients with drinks and cigars.
Gross. I’d rather be in the greasy airplane hangar than up there on the seventh floor with the executives.
It feels like the train takes forever, but I look at my phone and it’s not forever, just six minutes.
When I burst throughout the door to the hangar Adeline and Ming are laughing in my old fishbowl office.
“Hey,” the mechanics call to me. “How’s life up on the executive floor, Ellie?”
“Great, guys!” I call back, then push the doors open.
Adeline and I rush together for hugs and squeals.
“You bitch!” she says. “You got a promotion! Finally!”
“Ugggh,” I say. “Don’t remind me. It’s not what you think. Let’s go have breakfast and we’ll talk.”
Ming gives me a knowing smile as I open the door for Adeline. She knows this won’t be easy. I admit, Andrew’s call to McAllister was a surprise. We’re friends, I know that much, but I never expected him to stick up for me like that. Adeline and I are very close. She will not be happy to hear I am quitting.
“So spill, chick,” Adeline says as soon as we enter the stairs to the train station. “What’s going on? Ming kind of filled me in on the new boss. What happened to Heath?”
“Honestly,” I say, “I don’t know. I have no clue. We were pretty good friends. I mean, I thought we were dating.” I push the call button for the train.
“Ellie—”
“I didn’t say we were dating, but I think we were close. And then one day he doesn’t show up and there’s an announcement that he’s taking over some sister company in China.”
“Ming told me what you were doing. Sending him delusional messages, Ellie? What’s that about? You’re not desperate, girl. You’re smart, beautiful, and don’t need to be chasing a douchebag like him.”
“He’s not a douchebag.”
“No?” Adeline asks. “Then why does Ming think he is? She says he was stringing you along to keep you from quitting.”
Hmmm. “Well…” I don’t have an answer for that. Thankfully the train comes and it gives me a moment to get my thoughts together. “I did try to quit last year too. And it’s not that I don’t love my job. I do, actually. I just think I’ve outgrown it, you know?”
“I’m all for you quitting.”
“You are?”
“Of course. You’re meant for bigger things. And they have been taking advantag
e of all your talent for years. You need to break away and rise up, Ellie. And Heath’s promises were just a ploy to keep you here.”
“Well…” I sigh. “Now his brother has taken over and it seems to be playing out the same way. Only he’s much more aggressive about it.”
“The office? And promotion?”
“Yeah,” I say. And the sex. But I don’t say that part.
“Well, don’t let him smooth-talk you into staying. Stick to your guns.”
“I turned in my notice last night but he refused to accept it.”
“Who is this guy?” Adeline asks, annoyed.
“McAllister Stonewall,” I say. I might even sigh his name a little. This doesn’t get past Adeline, because she cocks a knowing eyebrow at me. “What?”
“Is he dreamy? Because you just said his name like he is.”
“He’s very good-looking,” I admit. “And a little bit… overpowering.” That’s an understatement. “And I just don’t know anymore. He kind of flipped my world upside down yesterday.”
We get off the train at Building Eleven—that’s where the executive restaurant is—and I fill her in on how he humiliated me at yesterday’s meeting as we take the escalator up to the dining room.
“What a dick,” Adeline says.
I hold up two fingers to indicate the number in our party to the host at the front and then we follow him to a private table in the back where I bring the celebrities. Once we are seated I get back to the conversation. “Right? I’m not overreacting? I mean, maybe I overreacted in the meeting and my escape down the slide was ridiculous, but I was just… shocked. It was stupid to put all those personal things in Heath’s message stream.”
“And delusional,” she adds.
“Maybe a little,” I admit. “But McAllister Stonewall could see they were not meant for him and he not only read them, he responded. A man with class would’ve ignored them. And a boss would’ve sent a polite email about it. Not humiliated me in front of the entire executive staff.”
She nods, putting on her pouty face in sympathy. “He handled it wrong.”
“I did too. I understand that. But… but how do I look him in the eye for the next two weeks?” I pause for a moment, wondering if I should tell her the rest. Yes. I better just come clean. “And there’s something else on the phone too.” I screw up my mouth a little to indicate this is not good.
“Spill it,” Adeline says.
“I have this Pinterest board, right?”
“Riiiight…”
“And I post my delusional things on there.”
“OK.”
“Plus, I might’ve made a board with workplace gossip on it. I have these nicknames for everyone, like Jennifer Sluts-around, and Clarisse Takes-all-the-credit, and Marty Brown-nose.”
Adeline bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny! And I sent the link to Heath. Which means…”
“Oh, my God, why would you do that?”
“Because I’m stupid?”
“So he saw you being Ellie Office-bitch?”
I smile. “Yes.”
“The board was public?”
“No! That’s what I don’t understand. It’s private, just Ming and I can see it.”
“So how did he see it?”
“I sent him the link, I guess?”
Adeline shakes her head. “He can’t see it, Ellie. If a board is private, then it’s not available to anyone unless they are added to it. Did you add Heath?”
“Of course not!”
“Then McAllister didn’t see it.”
“He said he did. He used it to threaten me last night. Said he’d blast my gossip board all over work if I didn’t take back my resignation.”
“He’s lying. What is the name of the board?”
“Work Bitches and Other Cunts.” We both burst out laughing now. “I know, I’m terrible, but…” I have no excuse.
“Am I in there?” Adeline asks.
“Of course not! Don’t be silly. I love my celebrity clients. Even that dumbass Brutus has grown on me a little. OMG, I almost killed him yesterday with a peanut butter sandwich. It was not even on purpose, I cross my heart.”
“Jesus, yesterday sucked.”
“Right? What do I do?”
“Well,” Adeline says, “I’m not the best advice-giver on the planet, which is why I always come to you. But I’d get that phone back and erase the whole message stream. Just press that little delete button and get rid of the evidence. And then you shove that resignation in his face and say goodbye.”
I nod as the waiter comes asking for drinks. We order two mimosas and split an order of French toast. “Then that’s my plan. I need to get into his office and find that phone.”
“Well,” Adeline says, pressing her index fingers under her chin and giving me a devious smile. “That plan has been dealt with. On to the one we’re really here to talk about.”
“Adeline, look—”
“No,” she interrupts me. “You look. You were the one who told me to walk away from my last label and strike out on my own. Indie, you said, right? It’s all about being indie. So I took your advice, and do you know what happened?”
“Of course I know,” I say, smiling. “Four number one hits in twelve weeks. More than two million songs sold, more than a million new subscribers, and seventeen million dollars. But—”
“No buts, Ellie. We made a deal.”
“I just don’t think I’m ready.”
“You’re ready to quit though?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Definitely. Stonewall might not have accepted my resignation, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t really resign. I’m outta here in thirteen days. No exceptions.”
“Then push publish,” Adeline says.
“I need a plan first. Some kind of release schedule or something.”
“Bitch, you work for the biggest fucking entertainment network on the planet. You know every one of the producers on—how many shows do you guys manage here?”
“I don’t know. I lost count.”
“Plus bloggers and YouTubers. All you have to do is go ask for help and everyone will be happy to pitch your release. If I thought professional people looking for a coach would listen to me, I’d pitch you to them. But sweetie, I can get you eyeballs but I cannot get you the right eyeballs. These people here, they can and they owe you. Don’t walk away without asking for a favor.”
“I don’t want to use my position here to get exposure, Adeline. It makes me feel dirty.”
“How many times have you come through for them? When guests canceled? You pulled out your phone, made a call, and that spot was filled.”
“But that was my job.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve their help.”
I make a face as our French toast is served.
“Just think about it,” she says as we dig in and eat. “And even if you don’t ask for help, you have to put it out there. Push it out of the nest and let it fly. Don’t wait for someone else to create your success. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“I did,” I say, smiling.
“Then take your own advice. Leave the nest, baby bird. And fly.”
Chapter Twelve - Ellie
After breakfast I drop Adeline off at her studio where she will be singing live in two hours, and I promise her I’ll be back in time to see it. Then I go back to the airport hangar just as Paul Sabon’s jet lands and taxis towards us.
Ming comes out of the fishbowl and greets me. “How was breakfast?”
“Good,” I say, still worrying about my promise to Adeline about the book. Not to mention the sex I had this morning with my boss, my resignation, being kicked out of the office I’ve had for the past seven years, and how I’m going to get that phone back so I can erase those messages.
“Did you…” Ming trails off.
“Did I what?” I ask, crabby now that I realize I have a lot on my mind.
“Did you guys talk about the book?”<
br />
“We did, Ming. I’m sure you were telling her all kinds of things while she was waiting for me earlier. And I know you guys mean well, but I’m just not ready to put it out there yet. I need more time.”
“Time to do what?”
I ignore her and walk into the fishbowl. Paul’s plane is waiting for something down at the end of the runway. “I’m going to check my email real fast. I didn’t have time to do it this morning.”
“What were you doing up there then?” Ming asks, following me in.
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. And then I realize she will catch on way too fast and I need to distract her. “I need to get Heath’s phone back from McAllister.”
“McAllister? You’re on first names now?”
“It’s his name, Ming.”
“What happened to Mr. Stonewall?”
“There’s more than one Mr. Stonewall. It’s confusing. Anyway,” I say with a sigh. “Will you help me try to get that phone tonight? I have to meet McAllister at six for a meeting, so maybe I can get him in my office and then you can slip in and look for the phone in his desk.”
“What if it’s not in his desk? What if Stephanie Guards-the-door is there? What if we get caught?”
“We won’t get caught, Ming. We’ll get Adeline to make a big commotion. Anyone left on the floor at six o’clock will be treated to an impromptu appearance. Maybe she can break out into song or something. She’ll come up with something. Then I’ll have my meeting with McAllister in my office and you slip in his, look around, get the phone, slip out. Voilà. Crisis over, we all go out for happy hour drinks and forget our problems.”
I sit down at my old desk and pull up my email as Ming thinks this over.
“You know, your boyfriend came in here while you were at breakfast.”
“Who?” I ask, sighing at all the unread emails. I have seven scheduling issues to deal with, one guest canceled for the end of the month—not my problem—and an official welcome to the “executive newsletter” courtesy of Jennifer Sluts-around.
“McAllister Stonewall,” Ming says. “He came in here and looked around. Sat at your desk and everything.”
“What? Why the hell would he do that?”