Before she could protest, I spun her and pushed her face down, ass up against the white duvet. She moaned. I nudged her limbs apart to stabilize her position. "This happens when bad girls arrive late and don't obey the rules."
I bent down and kissed her exposed ass cheek. "I hate to do this because I know you like it."
Thwack!
The slap reverberated in the hotel room.
She gasped and moaned loudly. I watched the red blush bloom against her creamy white flesh. "You are such a naughty girl." She moaned while swinging her hips. She pushed her ass back toward me. She wanted more, and I happily obliged.
I murmured, "This is for being a smartass and not appreciating my plans." My hand landed against her ass again.
She inhaled and turned her head to face me, "The Drake Hotel didn't have Veuve Clicquot?" She pressed her lips tightly to disguise her smile.
"Just for that, I don't care if you come or not." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a condom. I unzipped my pants and tugged out my rock-hard cock.
The chime of a cell phone went off. She leaned over and reached for her purse.
"No. Let it go to voicemail," I whined and moved to stop her from pulling out her phone.
She ignored my protests, holding the phone out of reach, and pressed the answer button before she wiggled away from me and took the call in the bathroom. The sound of running water echoed in the small space, muffling her words.
"Great. Just great." A frustrated sigh hissed through my teeth as I fell back against the mattress, adjusting my slacks to make room for my cock. What have I gotten myself into? First, she showed no respect for my time. Now, she took a phone call when we were about to fuck.
Nothing compared to the exhilaration from an illicit tryst. We met in dark corridors and bars or luxurious hotels. We spent our brief moments together, impressing each other with sexual tricks. She enjoyed sending nude text messages—the tops of the silk stockings she routinely wore to work or an upskirt photo taken in front of the window. She'd flash me her tit when we passed each other in the hallways, and I took photos while jacking off at my desk.
The more time I spent with her, the more desperate I became. Once she discovered that she was my weakness, she exploited it. Like a sick game of romantic chicken, we run headfirst toward the other and swerve when we are millimeters apart. It was a dangerous game for two people hungry for power and domination. I found myself in a spiral of desire, need, and denial.
I was no longer an equal or at least a worthy opponent. I was her plaything, a human sex toy for her benefit. When she felt like it, she took me out of the box, manipulated me as she saw fit, and tucked me into the deep recesses of her closet.
There was a shred of dignity that lived in my chest. I needed to take back control. I needed my life back.
It was time to tear down the walls, enclosing me and my heart. I sat up in the bed and waited for the water to stop.
"Colette!" I called out. When she didn’t answer, I yelled, "Nic, when you finish, I would like to talk.
Garrett
ER Wallace finding the balls to fire Jasmine had Nic's name written all over it.
No company in their right mind would terminate a top performer without pressure from somewhere. I talked with Parker Wallace and believed him to be a smarmy prick. He was so hell-bent on making a dollar that he'd bend over and kiss his own ass if I bet him. I wouldn't be surprised if Nic held the post IPO work over his head.
I asked Hunter to meet me at HeidelBurger for drinks. The after-work crowd was lighter than usual. I settled at the bar and watched the replays of the recent Bears versus Raiders game. I mindlessly stared at the screens while sipping a Macallan 12 on the rocks.
"What's up, Hoss?" Hunter nodded a greeting before lumbering onto the neighboring barstool. His body was too large for the room. He held out his hand, and I shook it. "What are you drinking?"
"The usual,” I grunted, hating that I wore my emotions like a tattoo on my forehead. I was angry and could do nothing to make it go away.
He flagged the bartender and ordered a double along with another for me.
"We miss having you on the job. Someone needs to take care of that damn place. No company should depend on one person. I've been running around like a madman trying to keep the systems and network operational and fielding random questions and requests. I didn't realize everyone was so high maintenance. I'm a gnat's length away from turning in my notice. I deserve hazard pay. How did you do it?"
"Some men aren't built for the job." I shrugged and tried to hide the smile behind the words.
"Good to see your sense of humor is back. Are you shocked by any of this?"
"Not my circus. Not my monkeys." I looked at the televisions above, taking a sip of the amber fluid in my glass.
"And Jasmine? How is she?"
"She's in Atlanta for meetings. Once she got over the initial shock, she put together a list of next steps."
"She's Type A for sure." Hunter chortled and slowly moved his cocktail glass from side to side. "We've spent the last month dancing around the subject of Jasmine. Are you prepared to discuss?"
"She's a wonderful woman. I like her."
There was so much more that I wanted to say, but Hunter would have looked as if I'd sprouted a second head. Jasmine was more than wonderful; she took my breath away. She was everything that a man could want in and out of his bed. Aside from the beauty and the heart of gold, there was a touch of challenge that I found appealing. She was never one to back down from a conflict. She handled adversity with ease and sophistication.
She’d returned to Atlanta to speak with an employment attorney, schedule time with the outplacement agency, and wrap up a few things with Wallace. She'd left four days ago, but I missed her.
Jasmine had all the qualities that I envisioned for a future wife and mother to my children. That's why my admission to Hunter was important. His guidance was always simple, yet pragmatic.
"I need advice. I'm in a situation that I can't figure my way out."
"Okay. Shoot."
"Remember that mentally draining relationship that I had earlier this year? I never told you her name because it was Nicolette." The words had wings and flew out of my mouth. The stress of holding in the secret dissolved. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for my friend's reaction. "It started after I received the Outstanding Performer of the Year award. The timing was bad, and it just didn't look good. I earned that award. I didn't want my fling with Nic to detract from the years I spent working long hours and busting my ass."
He didn't answer for a long time. His jaw ticked before he guzzled down the drink. "That's the reason for the weekly status meetings and your foul mood after?"
I nodded and directed my attention back to the overhead televisions.
"Nic believes the board wants to use the IPO to oust her. Every single fucking week, she threatened to expose our fling. It became worse after Jasmine arrived. Nic said she would fire me, and you, if I didn't agree to sabotage the Wallace team."
"Fire me? Why didn't you say something?" He frowned, an expression of absolute fury. His shoulders squared, and he sat taller, pushing his chest out. He clenched a fist and shifted in his seat. I tensed, readying myself for a fight. He took a deep exhale as he tried to control his anger, but he didn't have a poker face. "Man, you should have fucking said something."