“No, no, well except I saw you this morning, watching Olivia, changing her shoes, over there.” He points to the corner where I saw her earlier, although I thought she was a look-a-like rather than it actually being her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap, unsure why I am so pissed off. “Unless you mean the ridiculous looking woman with trainers and a knapsack?” I ask, knowing exactly who he meant. Why did I call her ridiculous? She looked sweet and charming with her contradictive clothing, shoes and bag, but fucking gorgeous nevertheless.
“Sorry, my mistake,” the older man says and effectively dismisses me when he turns to a colleague, clearly disgusted with my faked sense of distaste for Olivia making me question whether he fancies her. Probably not, not in any way beyond appreciating a pretty girl. His concern seems more paternal or avuncular and most likely because she is a genuinely nice girl that smiles at him each morning and treats him with respect and fondness.
Driving the few miles back to my office I wonder how this is going to work, her, Olivia, being in my office, putting her stamp on my environment, a constant reminder of her, assuming her stamp is up to scratch, except I know it will be. I have been in her home and seen how she puts things together, the eclectic mix of contemporary and classic pieces that fit together perfectly in the same room. Her modern kitchen that sits alongside her classic bathroom complete with claw foot bath. Yes, her work will definitely be up to scratch, much like the woman herself. The other designer, Sean, he still bothers me. He seems a pleasant enough guy and knows what he’s doing, he’s experienced, but there’s something about the way he says Olivia’s name or shortens it to Liv that pisses me off.
I park my car in my reserved spot and grab the office lift thinking I should try and think of something not involving my little fuck buddy from last night or I might just have to revisit last night with her this afternoon or maybe let her blow me again. She must have been around the block a few times I think as I recall how good she did that, how amazing it felt. Why am I doing this, trying to paint her in a less flattering light because of how good things were between us? Because you want her, I admit, but ignore that thought as I relive the moment where she first tried to go down on me, the moment I stopped her.
Kneeling before me she reached for me while her mouth was slightly gaping, her big green and gold eyes staring up at me like a fucking goddess and then instead of just letting her do it I stopped her, asked if she deserved it? As I uttered the words, I thought she was going to tell me to fuck off or laugh, but she didn’t, she just nervously said,I don’t know.
I know that I love to be in charge, and I am as bossy as fuck, but even for me that was a first, a woman considering whether she deserved the honour of sucking my dick. It threw me, enough that I just stared down at her for long seconds before pushing her further, stroking my own dick so that it almost reached her moist lips she was licking and then she uttered one word,please.
I almost came in my own hand at her subservient word and tone. Then I told her to suck me and she did. On her knees with moist lips, eyes full of conflicting emotions she begged to suck my dick, pleaded with her expression alone, and how she did it.
The throbbing erection straining against my trousers and my balls that are surely blue by now are telling me to forget my rules when she arrives here and fuck her again or have her on her knees telling me how deserving she is of my cum in her mouth.
“Mase!” Arianna startles me as she calls to me when I leave the lift and my improper thoughts behind. “You okay? You look distant.”
“I’m fine,” I tell my assistant who happens to be my ex-wife too. I could tell her exactly what is on my mind because we are friends, no more, but I don’t and I think the reason for that is because Olivia is history although that inner voice of mine pisses me off again when it chips in with ayeah right.
“Tranter deal, you good to talk in about twenty minutes?” she asks.
“Sure. I need to be done by three. I have an interior designer coming to see me.”
“Fine.” Arianna frowns, meaning my words were as lame as I thought they would be. If only she knew.
At five to three I am agitated because Olivia hasn’t arrived yet and I did tell her that I didn’t like tardiness. I even offered to pick her up. What the fuck was that about?
I amuse myself wondering if the walk from the station or wherever she’s coming from is proving to be harder work than it should be. Maybe the soreness she was clearly suffering from earlier has slowed her down. I rub a hand across my own groin thinking of her sore and swollen, her folds rubbing together, reminding her of last night, of me.
“A Miss Carrington is here to see you,” my P.A. Nicola tells me through the intercom.
“Thank you, send her in please,” I reply and brace myself.
There’s a tap at the door, a polite, gentle one and then the door opens to reveal her standing there in her sexy, tight skirt and fitted blue blouse. Yes, this is going to be harder than I thought. She is carrying her rucksack which I believe I called a knapsack when I was being an arse to the security guy. She looks fantastic but her bag does look ridiculous and yet she works it.
“Miss Carrington,” I say with a curt tone. “Come in,” I add, pointing to a seat on the opposite side of my huge, dark desk.
“Am I late?” she asks nervously, clearly picking up on my angst.
“Almost,” I tell her and then seeing a genuinely nervous glint in her eyes I stop. “But you’re here now. So, tell me about yourself,” I say and wonder why. Do I want to know about her? Should I want to? I have no clue about anything other than the fact that seeing her in Christian’s office has thrown me a real curve ball I don’t know how to deal with.
She is talking about her design skills and experience having misunderstood my request as I meant for her to tell me about herself personally, not the design spiel, but I let her continue. It’s for the best.
She can certainly talk. I smile when I realise it’s almost four o’clock and she is still going strong, although I believe nerves are playing a part in her runaway mouth.
“Miss Carrington,” I say to pause her, and I am sure I see relief on her face. “Let’s talk specifics.”
“Okay,” she agrees and bites the edge of her lower lip nervously which is the cutest thing I have ever seen.
I really need to go out and get laid by someone who isn’t Olivia if only to replace her in my mind. My inner voice now chips in with a,who the fuck are you kidding? I ignore him and stand, circling my desk until I am resting on the edge of it staring down at her.
“I know Sean is the lead designer here, but I have a proposition for you.” I have no idea what prompted me to say that, nor what the proposition is until the words leave my mouth. “I will give you a blank canvas on two rooms of my choosing. You liaise with me on those two rooms and assist Sean with the others. What do you say?”
She is staring up at me with those eyes that could make a saint sin and then she fucking cripples me with a single word, “Please.”
I have no clue what I am doing as I stare down at her but am obviously wearing a lustful expression.
